I was shitting myself. Nearly nine hundred clean little faces looked up at the stage as the Headmaster talked. You could have heard a pin drop as he explained how the gang rapes and teen pregnancies and the Year 11 outcall escort service were all going to stop. How he was going to institute a new regime that would contain and focus the sexual energy of the school into appropriate behaviours, and how they were all going to have a complete sex education that would empower them to make appropriate sex positive choices, and not engage in dangerous sexual practices.
But I wasn't listening. I knew the gist anyhow; after all, I had been on the Steering Committee. So I was sat primly on a hard wooden chair, directly behind the Headmaster, lined up with the rest of the staff, and I was shitting myself. My heart thumbed, I felt flush and almost faint, I hoped I wasn't sweating.
I turned my head to look at Mr McVicar (Head of English) sitting next to me. He gave me a leery smile that made me want to crap myself even more. I think if he'd winked at me that would have been it, I'd have fled. Of course, that was why I was sandwiched between Mr McVicar and Mr Brown (Design and Technology) - they were the biggest, broadest teachers in the school.
We'd all agreed that someone had to do it, and I had sort of volunteered - in a kind of, not actually putting my hand up and saying, OK, sort of way. It was more like, a consensus forming that I'd be the best at it and then presuming that I'd do it, for the good of the school. But McVicar and Brown were there just to make sure I didn't change the mind I hadn't been aware of making up.
The pit of my stomach - not a place I'm too familiar with - found a new spot to tie an extra knot.
I'm not sure why I didn't say, "Now hang on a minute". I must have been completely bonkers. What was I thinking? Was I thinking? How could I ever imagine that this was going to be a good idea? It was insane. Beyond insane. You know those stories that tell you that truth is often stranger than fiction, well this was a double dose, if not actually an overdose.
A hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I looked up with a start. McVicar looked down from an altitude of 6'-2". For a dizzy moment I thought he was trying to look down my front, at my small a-cups propped up by my gallery bra that did it's very best to give me a bust. And then I realised, the Headmaster had finally grown tired of his own voice. It was time.
The Headmaster was looking straight at me, waiting. My colleagues were looking straight at me, expectant. The whole school, from pre-pubescent 11 year olds to oh so very grown up 18 year olds, was looking straight at me, stunned.
I rose on wobbly legs. Mr Brown lent his arm and I gripped it to steady myself. Mr McVicar placed his hand in the small of my back to guide me forward. There was a shadow of respect in his face, as I hadn't fled, or fainted, or crapped myself.
Haltingly I stepped forward.
Spookily, a pin dropped, and everyone heard it. Well, OK, it was a pen ... who carries pins these days?
I stepped up to the Headmaster, and for a moment, gazed into his watery grey eyes.
His eyes undressed me. My long yellow blonde hair was tired in a neat ponytail that danced across my back as I turned my head. I was wearing my pretty crocheted olive green cardigan, with a simple low round neck white cotton top showing through the patchwork of delicate lacy stitches.
The tops of my titties wobbled slightly as I moved, unused to the elevation they'd been pushed up to. My top ended an inch above my skirt, exposing a sneaked expanse of firm belly flesh round by small waist. My grey conservative skirt hugged the curves of my bottom and sleeked down to just above my knees. Under that, a light white cotton thong stretched round my sex - all clean and snug.
I realised that I was wearing some comic little socks my daughter Laura had bought me for Christmas, "Little Miss Naughty" they read, and for a moment, I felt more embarrassed for my 37 year old girlishness than for lowering myself to my knees in front of the Headmaster.
The Headmaster reached down, and slowly unzipped his flies.
I reached my slender fingers inside the Head's trousers.
Nearly a thousand mouths gasped as I dragged the Head's stiffening head towards my open mouth. Imagine a sound made up of 'Fuck', 'Shit' and 'Christ' pronounced by hundreds of voices in a sharp in take of breath.
I lowered my lips round the Head's head and dragged his foreskin back using my teeth.
I pushed my face towards the base of his cock. He rocked his hips to push his pulsing cock deeper down my throat.
Then slide it out.
And then back in again, to fuck my face up to a full erection.
The Head pulled his hard penis out of my mouth - a long strand of my saliva linking my mouth to his cock. He took a firm grip of his cock, and slowly, deliberately, began to aggressively jack himself off at my face.
I slanted a sideways glance at my audience - a ghostly sea of drawn white-faced children (yes, even the Asian and Afro-Caribbean ones), ripples of confusion and shock lapping across their uncomprehending faces. I smiled at them. A sweet fond indulgent smile. I noticed a couple of the older girls smile back.
A fat hand on the top of my head swiveled me round to face the bulbous cockhead of Mr McVicar, as he joined the Headmaster in tossing himself off at my sweet face. McVicar hadn't been named Richard for nothing. Dick's dick was a long bendy banana covered in Amazonian rivers of veins, made gleaming by his hand rubbing his mucous pre-cum down the long length of his impressive tool. I looked up at him. He looked down at my small face, impassive, focused, glazed eyes fixed.
Just behind him Mr Brown started wanking himself off too. Three large men semi-circled round one kneeling demur slight woman, up on stage in front of hundreds of teenage school children. It is a quite spectacle. And it was me making it.
Several of my colleagues, men and women, stood-up off their chairs to peer round the vigorously masturbating men.
A hand takes my chin and swings my face into the centre of a fat purple cock about to blow its creamy juice. I stare up at the Headmaster with clear challenging bright eyes. He likes that. He gets off on me being defiant. It makes the humiliation of publicly cuming over my face all the better. He grunts and gasps and beats his truncheon cock as he stares triumphantly down at me.
But it's a sudden slap of hot slimy jizz against the side of my face - down the side of my pulled back hair and across my ear - that jolts me. I turn to see McVicar's banana fountain towards me, pumping cum out of the head of his enflamed cock. I open wide and he stuffs his ejaculating penis in my mouth. It quickly fills with hot cum. I push it out of my mouth with my tongue, so everyone can see it dribble down my chin.
The Headmaster's hand pulls my head back as he starts violently spunking over my face: my left eye and nose and mouth get covered in thin long lines of sticky cum.
A scattering of uncertain applause ripples round the Assembly Hall. I turn to face the pupils and see grinning boys and wide-eyed girls all around.
I felt so alone. Even though Mr Brown was diligently beating off a few inches away. It was me the pupils were staring at. It was my cum splattered face that drew the cocks of my colleagues - like flies round a turd, the whiz of unzipping filled my ears.
Smithy (French) came and stood next to Mr Brown. Smithy, who used to tease me so much in the staff-room, was just short of 60, considerably short of a full head of hair, and totally short of being able to se his genitals without the aid of a mirror. Which must be a pity. 'Cos Smithy's bits were well worth a peek: his cock was like his belly - fat, protruding, and so were his balls - swollen, heavy, massive. Some men have pistols in their pants. Smithy had a howitzer.
I craned forward towards Mr Brown, poked out my tongue and fluttered it across the tip of his jerking cock - just to help him along.
Mr Brown looked down at me with wildly blazing eyes. I tickled the top of his cock again. Smithy grinned at me, and with an unexpected grunt the fat-guy started firing shots of cum in all directions. Down my neck, across the top of my tittles, over my cardigan - pretty much everywhere, except my face - including spurting over the top of Mr Brown's cock. Mr Brown came too - a few thin squirts that dribbled over my high cheek bone. (At least I realised what really punched Mr Brown's hot button).
Don Clark (Science), Andy Hill (Science) and Mr Caswell (Head of Physical Ed) stood up to the mark. I tried to do the maths: 4 down, 3 up, 17 to go. Oh God - this could take forever and my knees were already starting to hurt.
A warm presence knelt beside me. I looked round and was surprised to see little Joanne Braithwaite's ginger bob right next to me. One small reassuring hand gave my shoulder a squeeze, her other held a bowl under my chin, catching the dribs sliding down my face.
I wondered how she had "volunteered" for this duty. Was there some unsubtly coded message that two friends had to be publicly degraded in this way? Or perhaps it was simpler - Jo worked in the same department.
She pressed her bony little body against mine, propping me up. And reached forward and planted a pecked kiss on my cum smeared cheek. The school assembly, reeling in shock after shock, wavered in another gasp.
So did Clark, who jizzed all over my forehead as Joanne kissed me. Not a sustained performer, Clark. But he grinned with a stupid happiness nonetheless, watching his cum dribble down over my nose, round my mouth, down my chin and into Joanne's bowel.
He stepped back as my Rob (History) - my semi-secret lover - took his place beside the furiously jerking Hill and Mr Caswell.
Rob beamed at me, undid his belt, and let his trousers fall to his ankles. He scooped his boxers down, and gave the whole school the benefit of seeing his cute bum. His cock was already hard. He took hold of my head with both hands (ignoring the cum splats) and thrust his cock straight into my mouth. He knew I could take it, and continued to push his cock deeper and deeper until my nose was buried in Rob's curly pubes.
Those children who could see round Rob's pert bottom gasped again. And a murmurs waved across the echoy school hall as kids who hadn't seen pleaded with those who had what had happened. "Miss deep-throated Sir's cock" the whisper ran in ripples along the tidy lines. With a few of the younger heads dipped to lend their ears to whispered explanations of what deep-throating was.
Rob was loving it. He pulled his long cock all the way out of my mouth, and held it just out of reach from my lips for moment, so that the school could admire the slight downward curve of his cock - a curve that made it so easy for me to swallow completely - before pushing it steadily all the way back down my throat.
It felt good to have Rob fuck my throat. I took hold of Rob buttocks, and began to give him a right royal sucking off before the whole school, twisting my mouth lovingly round his cock - spit slipping out of the corners of my hungry mouth and dribbling into Joanne's bowel.
Andy Hill looked on enviously, as he wanked himself steadily, watching Rob get the full treatment. It got him off though, and he showered me with thick loops of cum which creamed in sudden spurts over my nose and mouth (and Rob's gliding cock on its fleeting trips out of my mouth) in one ... three ... six ... eight, nine spouts! I was impressed. I'd never thought much of Hill before. A loud man with an excessive confidence in his own abilities - it had never occurred to me that this confidence might be justified.
McCarthy (Geography) joined Rob and Mr Caswell, rubbing his cock friskily - his cockhead largely hidden by his thick foreskin. But almost as soon as he'd stepped in, Mr Caswell blew his load over me and then over wee Joanne. The bright blobs of creamy cum really standing out on her short ginger hair.
While Rob enjoyed sailing his cock in and out from between my red lipstick lips, McCarthy came in a jerked spurt that splashed all over my cardigan. Joanne used her finger to scoop up the sticky mess and wipe it carefully into her bowl.
I realised ... dopey I know ... but I realised that all the guys who hadn't cum over me were masturbating now. While Mr Gordon (Head of the Upper School) and O'Neill (English) joined Rob, I clocked half a dozen guys wanking away happily. It was so weird - some guys I'd know for years and never seen their cocks, were beating off their stiffies.
I turned and looked at the children. I felt sure they must be getting bored by the parade of teachers walking up and spunking in my face. But there they were: shiny faces goggle eyed, watching O'Neill shoot all over my pony tail and down the back of my neck. And Mr Gordon shoot his thick creamy over my left eye. And I always thought he was gay.
And then Rob pull his cock out of my throat, wanked his cock a couple of times, and from long range, shoot up and over, showering the top of my head, the front of my face, and poor Joanne's freckled face in hot splashes of thin runny cum. Very runny. I looked at Jo - thin trails of long cum ran all down her face. She smiled at me. I smiled back.
Rob barely had time to pull up his trousers when I'm surrounded by five guys: Jenner (German), Ash (Biology), Pinner (Head of Year 10), Cocker (Physical Ed) and Holdsworth (Design and Technology). I thought the guys at the back of the queue were beginning to get impatient. These guys had been wanking for a while now, and I felt their need to cum was getting urgent.
I tipped my head back a little, opened my mouth wide, and shut my un-cummed right eye tight shut. Sure enough, a volley of cum splattered across my face. It was an odd feeling - the new cum is really warm, but it soon cools, and you can feel it join the cold scum of old cum as it slowly slides down your face, and dribbles off your chin, or slides past your ear, down your neck. Ohhh, icky. And then more spurts of cum.
You never know when its going to hit you - even with your eyes open - a snatched grunt milliseconds before the ejaculation is pretty much your only warming. And when it comes, you never know if its going to be a splash, a squirt, a dribble or just go all over the place.
More grunts, more slaps of cum. I don't know who's coming over me now. I'm feeling sort of timeless now - except for me poor knees - I don't know how long it's going to last, I don't know how many are going to cum on my face. I don't when they're going to cum. The only thing I do know is that the cum is coming. And it cums, and cums again ... and again.
I feel cold cum flow down between my titties. It tickles.
Another grunt, another creaming of my petty little fair wet face.
And then a whisper ... it's Joanne, "they're finished, that's all of them".
I my face feels nearly disappointed it finished. But my knees scream yipp-bloody-ie!
Big hands grab my small arms and lift me up ... oh God, my legs and knees ache, Feeling me sag, the hands keep me up. Tissues are wiped across my face "hold on Emily" Joanne coos, as the tissue dabs gently into the cum filled corners of my eyes.
The headmaster's pompous voice is droning on again about true sexual liberation and other stuff he knows nothing about, but I'm listening to Joanne's reassuring whispers. "There you go honey ... hold on a mo ... OK, now try opening your eyes ... Hello sweetie, is that better?"
The world comes back into a soft cum stained focus. The Headmaster's voice rises to an over excited peak and stops. Joanne hands him the bowel, and he hands it to me. I'm not absolutely sure what he said - my mind was elsewhere, but obviously I'm meant to drink it ... or may be pour it over the top of my head as a cleansing gesture?
I hesitate - I try and remember the last bukkake porn film I saw. I raise the bowel to my lips, and drink the puddle of cold cum collected there with an exaggerated throw back of the head (which nearly unbalances me but for the firm holding hands).
For a long moment there is silence, nearly a thousand people and not even a cough. Then the headmaster starts to slowly clap, and quickly my colleagues join in, and in an instance, the clapping infects the whole school. It's like thunder, with some screaming whistles piping in over the top.
I smile, as the holding hand guides me to the back of the stage with Joanne. They both help me down the steps and out the back. The main doors of the school hall burst open and hundreds of kids trample their way out into the fresh air.
Joanne takes my arm firmly. "Come on sweetie. We'll go to the gym. We can use the showers to get cleaned up."
My mind says, "sure, that's a great idea, lets go" - but my mouth
mumbles something quite different. My mouth is still too full of cum to speak
properly.