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Subject: {ASSM} LOVEBRIGHT ACADEMY: The Real Story 2 (mF, mf, Ff, MC, preg) Homver Vargas
Date: Thu, 10 Feb 2000 16:10:01 -0500
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LOVEBRIGHT ACADEMY:
The Real Story
by Homer Vargas
Part II
"So then. This is what discipline has come to," Mrs.
Baxter said, scowling across the big oak desk. She
tried to recapture the sense of furious shock and
outrage that had propelled her into the headmaster's
office. Retelling her experience with the amorous
students had unexpectedly refreshed the memory in her
mind, and she found herself getting very warm. She
could feel her nipples pressing against her bra. "Sex
right here in the building! Students coupling like
animals! Where does this fit in your new educational
theories, Mrs. McLeod? Did *this*idea come up at one
of your Student-Teacher Committee meetings? This
situation must not be tolerated! Those students must
be punished for such scandalous behavior, and you,
madam --are you listening to me!?"
The headmaster's eyes were unfocussed. With her head
rolling loosely, she was making little thrusting
motions with her hips, still largely hidden behind the
desk. "Hmmmm? Lis-listening?" she said
indifferently. "Oh! Oh yes! And I love it. It's so
good. I want to--, to hear it. Please, don't stop
now!" She was breathing through her mouth.
Mrs. Baxter stared at the clearly aroused headmaster
in wonder. Had her report about the two oversexed
students turned her on so much? It was a hot story,
she had to admit, the way Leanne looked so sexy in her
super-short skirt and striped stockings, the
confident, masculine way that Johnny guided her onto
the sofa and worked his . way into her.
With an effort, she forced her mind away. She
regretted not having let Arthur at least try to fuck
her this morning before she came here; maybe she
wouldn't have been so horny. This was no time to be
caught in an erotic daydream! This was an outrage and
something had to be done! And you would think, with
all the money she paid for this dress, they could have
cut it a little shorter so it didn't cover the best
part of her legs and make it so dammed difficult to
... to get her fingers in her pussy! Wait, what did
that have to do with it?
She came back to the present when the headmaster
emitted a little gasp. Jimmy's hand had succeeded in
reaching the top of her silk stockings. Now he was
teasing lightly over the little space at the top of
her thighs, between the dark bands of her garters and
her black bikini panties. She had succeeded, while
the Baxter bitch was rambling on about Johnny and
Leanne, in hitching her skirt up over her bum, so it
no longer impeded Jimmy's questing fingers. She
gasped audibly when one finger found the wet spot on
her crotch and slid along the length of her silk-
covered lips. The presence of a Board inspector, and
the impending disaster to her career, were becoming
less and less important.
*****
Thinking back, Mrs. McLeod remembered when she had
first decided to dress like a real woman and started
wearing stockings instead of the triple protection of
baggy slacks, panties and pantyhose to school. Her
husband had thought it a little strange at first,
since she had always been so conservative. He also
objected to the cost when she started buying the
expensive silk ones, and then insisted on wearing them
every day. Eventually she had mentioned her husband's
concern to Jimmy, before a Committee meeting one day.
He suggested she invite him over for supper. Her
husband thought that was odd too, but he didn't
realize that Jimmy was an exceptional student.
On the evening of Jimmy's visit, Mrs. McLeod had drunk
too much wine with supper and tottered off to bed
early. Jimmy and her husband had stayed up very late
talking, but not too late to give her a delicious
sleepy fuck when he eventually came to bed. Jimmy
must have explained things to him very well because
the next morning her husband made no objection at all
when, after another quick fuck, she slipped into a
pair of red fish-net hose and a matching red garter
belt. In fact it seemed to turn him on quite a lot.
Jimmy came back for supper once more a week later,
just when ...? Something important that slipped her
mind. This time all three of them stayed up late,
drinking and talking and laughing, until her husband
fell asleep, glass in hand, in his favorite stuffed
chair. Mrs. McLeod herself was feeling no pain from
the drinks and soon she was howling with pleasure as
Jimmy gave her had a delightful little doggie fuck on the
living room rug while her husband dozed. It was so
much better than the quickies she was used to in her
office when Jimmy just turned her over a chair between
classes.
After that night her husband started helping her
choose her underwear each morning. He often helped
her slip on her stockings and shoes, while Mrs. McLeod
sipped the fresh orange juice he made for her and
enjoyed the feeling of being petted and pampered.
Dressing her seemed to get her husband awfully worked
up. He was usually rock-hard by the time he was done.
Sometimes she let him make her late for school.
Lately she preferred to make him wait until she came
home at night and he had spent the day suffering.
Sometimes he even called her from his law office just
to tell her how hot she looked. When he did, she knew
she'd have no trouble being on top that night.
*****
Not surprisingly, it was Jimmy who responded to Mrs.
Baxter's last complaint, and now he became very
serious. "Mrs. Baxter," he said intently, "I do not
mean to minimize the seriousness of this incident, but
I think there are two sides to the issue." He leaned
forward in his chair, at an angle which incidentally
gave him better access to Mrs. McLeod's panties.
"These are young people, full of emotions, and they
sometimes make mistakes. We get carried away
sometimes, I admit it. That's why we need direction
from adults, from teachers and parents. Those
students are classmates of mine, I know them well.
Perhaps they shouldn't have been skipping classes, but
they are very much in love." If that were the case
then Johnny had been very much in love with at least
three other girls that week, but once again Jimmy's
sense of tact prevailed.
"They went some place to make out and they got carried
away. An unfortunate scene. But what about you, Mrs.
Baxter? You saw what they were doing, why didn't you
interrupt them? These kids needed moral guidance at
that moment, and you just stood and watched. Why?
Why didn't you stop them from doing something they
will both regret later? Why did you just stand there
and watch an unplanned pregnancy occur?" This time it
was he who glared across the desk accusingly.
Mrs. Baxter was taken aback. "Well, I never--I mean,
I couldn't... there was no time to..."
Jimmy interrupted her. "It's easy to come in here and
complain afterward, but I can't help thinking you had
a chance to do the right thing and you blew it. Could
it be that you actually enjoyed watching the girl
getting knocked up? That you were spying from the
corridor while these two innocent kids made a baby for
your amusement?"
The pretty blonde's face was red. "No! No, of course
not. It wasn't like that at all!" She looked about,
trying to collect her thoughts.
There was no use appealing to Mrs. McLeod for support.
The headmaster was lolling in her chair, quite
obviously lifting herself on her arms to thrust her
hips behind the desk, gasping "Hunh! Hunh! Hunh!" in
time with the thrusts. Jimmy now had two fingers
inside her panties. The freckled brunette was
shamelessly goosing herself on his digits, very nearly
oblivious to her surroundings.
"It wasn't like that, not like you're saying," Mrs.
Baxter said defensively. "The point is they shouldn't
have been there at all! And if proper discipline had
been maintained from the outset they never would have
come to such a compromising position! Letting the
boys strut around like little kings, and the girls
wearing their skirts so short..."
Not that there was anything wrong with a fashionably
brief skirt. Not, that is, if it were worn
tastefully, by a woman with dynamite legs. Like hers.
Maybe with shiny nylons and a new pair of shoes Arthur
would fuck her more often, or the new Jamaican
gardener - now there was a man who could send a woman
to the maternity ward!...
She shook her head. Where did these thoughts keep
coming from?
"Mrs. Baxter," Jimmy said again, pausing to slip a
third finger inside the panting headmaster, "I think
we have answered your complaints well enough.
Lovebright's is going through some growing pains to be
sure, but the Academy is still in good shape. And as
for Mrs. McLeod, well, we are all taken with her
openness and ability to accept new ideas." His arm
pistoned steadily as he spoke.
"Oh fuck yessss!" the headmaster gasped, slumping down
in her chair. "Gimme some more...more Ay-ay i-deas!"
Mrs. Baxter was confused. The headmaster was acting
just like a woman who was getting a dandy little
finger-job, and above the desk she could see Jimmy's
arm moving back and forth, in and out. She knew she
should be terrifically upset, outraged in fact, but
the poor woman clearly needed to come, and badly.
Besides, she had succeeded in getting a finger into
her own hole and it seemed harder and harder to hold
onto her sense of anger.
Jimmy had more or less dismissed her, but she knew she
had more to say. It was just so difficult to keep it
all straight. Flighty, irrelevant thoughts kept
slipping through her mind, flipping against her
consciousness the way a really short skirt would flip
against her thighs as she walked, reminding her with
every step of just how deliciously sexy she looked,
how much she needed a good...
Shaking off the wandering thoughts again, she cried
out, "Wait! There's more! There are other things! I
just can't quite..." Concentrating hard to keep her
head clear she tried to remember what else she had
seen that had shocked her so. The suspicious-looking
plants growing in neat rows in the greenhouse; the new
selection of books and magazines in the library, and
the foxy young librarian more concerned with combing
her hair than the laughter and necking going on around
her; the male teacher sitting behind his desk between
classes, yakking and flirting with two pretty,
provocatively dressed students who were sitting on the
arms of his chair; the obedient, identically dressed
young girls walking behind the seniors.
That was it!
*****
Classes changed again shortly after Mrs. Baxter, her
heart still pounding from her orgasm, returned to the
main hall from her side trip to the stairwell. Once
again she found herself engulfed in a swirl of
boisterous, cheerful students, laughing and talking as
they ambled to their next class or stopped at their
lockers to comb their hair or change books. In the
old days noise at this level would never have been
tolerated. Once again the rich young housewife was
amazed by the shameless uniforms the girls were
wearing, the revealing tops, thigh-baring skirts,
fancy nylons and sexy shoes. Once again she marveled
at the male students, each with his steady gaggle of
giggly girlfriends.
Several boys had seized the few minutes between
classes for a quick session of making out, or more, in
some darker corner. The senior male students, of
which there could not have been more than a dozen,
were particularly popular. As she watched, Mrs.
Baxter found herself thinking there was something
different about them. Then she saw it.
The senior boys were not carrying any books. In
addition to whatever number of female companions he
happened to have, each senior was accompanied by
another girl, juniors by the looks of them, that
patiently followed him around as he made his way to
the next class. These girls were all dressed in a
foreshortened version of the school uniform. They all
wore navy blue, garterless stockings that stopped just
at the edge of the mini-length kilt, and simple black
pams. The trailing girl carried the boy's books, and
sometimes his jacket or whatever else he handed to
her. They didn't seem to mind at all.
Mrs. Baxter drew in her breath in shock. Why, those
girls were being used as servants! This was beyond
belief! Appalled, yet fascinated, Mrs. Baxter
followed one girl as she in turn puppy-dogged her
senior. She stayed with him faithfully, making way
for any other girls that came over to talk to him.
She waited patiently in the hall, without setting his
books down, when he ducked into the washroom. While
she waited, she chatted amiably with another girl,
similarly burdened, who was waiting for a different
senior. After a few minutes the boy came out, bent
down to give his girl a quick peck on the lips, and
headed off to his next class, the girl still following
brightly.
It was all too much. Mrs. Baxter's anger, which had
been building steadily since she entered the school,
finally boiled over. How could anyone tolerate what
had happened to the school? She would not stand idly
by while her beloved alma mater was reduced to a
mocking nonsense of a prep school with no moral fiber
or discipline whatsoever.
It was that new headmaster, McLeod, she was
responsible for this, and by God she would pay. Mrs.
Baxter swore she would have her head! Her fists
clenched in anger, so red and heated that smoke nearly
billowed from her ears, the slender blonde turned
about and marched down to the main office to vent her
rage on the headmaster.
*****
With the memory Mrs. Baxter's composure, and some of
her anger, returned. Ignoring the steady moans from
the sexed-out headmaster and interrupting her own
masturbation, she glared at the complacent student
sitting behind the headmaster's desk. "Let's see you
explain this away, Mr. smart-ass scholarship
student," she challenged.
She was certain by now certain that he was somehow
responsible for Mrs. McLeod's descent into panting
delirium. She snarled at him: "Treating young women
like servants, Mr. King. Like servants! I am
speechless with anger. You and your hellish headmaster
have destroyed the integrity of this once fine school
and you will pay. Heads will roll, I promise you.
Mrs. McLeod, I guarantee you will be fired before the
week is out, and I will see that you, Mr. King, and
all of your ilk are expelled!"
The student raised his free hand. "Mrs. Baxter, do
try to stay calm. Those seniors you are referring to
are prefects. They have been appointed to lend a hand
to maintaining the rules and guiding the younger
students through academia. This is a long-standing
tradition at Lovebright's.
"And, as the saying goes, those that are given the
most have the most to give. We, the privileged
members of society, must not forget we are bound to a
lifetime of service to the community. The sub-
prefects, not servants as you mistakenly called them,
are learning the importance of service to a greater
society by spending a little time in the service of
others. They compete scholastically for the
privilege, and in time many of them may become
prefects themselves."
Once again Jimmy was being tactful. The junior girls
did indeed compete for the limited number of sub-
prefect positions. Scholastic aptitude, however, had
never been a strong suit with Lovebright students. It
had proved simpler to substitute a bathing suit
competition and a petting contest and then let the
senior boys each decide on their preferred proteges.
It was rumored that a number of the wealthier but less
well endowed girls had undergone medical enhancements
just to improve their chances of making the list.
Mrs. Baxter became aware that she was staring. It was
all too unbelievable. The boy spouted this nonsense
as if it were actually true. For a long moment she
was simply dumbstruck. She could feel the press of
her slim dress against her legs, and for some reason
that got her thinking that the nice thing about short-
short skirts was that you could wear them with
anything. With heels or flats, sandals, slip-ons or
even a pair of slick, knee-high boots... She was
aware of just how badly she needed to get off again.
The sleek blonde fought off a panicky feeling. "Mrs.
McBoots!" she shouted at the headmaster, "I mean, Mrs.
McLeod, do you, do you believe any of this?"
The overheated headmaster looked at her unseeingly,
her wild eyes half hidden behind the hair that had
fallen across her face. "Oh fuck it, I'm going to
come!" she cried. Pushing back from the desk, she
threw one leg over the arm of her chair.
Mrs. Baxter rose to her feet, eyes round in
astonishment. For the first time she could see
clearly what was going on behind the desk. The
headmaster's legs were spread wide, her tiny black
panties pushed aside. Jimmy's fingers were slipping
in an out, quickly now, pausing occasionally to
lightly tickle her clitoris as they went by. The
headmaster's black lace garter straps stretched across
her thighs. On her feet were shiny black sandals with
towering platform heels and spaghetti-strap laces that
wound across her foot up to the big bow knot at the
top of the ankle. "Jimmmy!" she whined, thrashing
about in the overstuffed chair, "Oh Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy
Jimmy Jimmmmmmy!" Her voice rose higher and higher,
finally fading out as her body arched and shook in
orgasm.
Standing before the desk, watching the other woman
climax in her chair, Mrs. Baxter clung desperately to
her senses. Suddenly she realized how wet she was as
a whole new set of memories flooded her mind,
perceptions that had been there all along but had
somehow been held back. There was more to each of the
scenes she had so recently recounted. The girls'
uniforms, for example - they were not only obscenely
short and provocative, but most of them were cut to
accommodate various stages of pregnancy. Crystal
Sexsmith's tummy poked so far out, it looked like the
young teacher might have triplets before the day was out!
Ms Libertina's strange class was teaching nothing more
than a erotic version of Lamaze exercises. She'd
better know; the instructor looked like she herself
was due any day now. And the rutting woman before
her. No wonder Jimmy's fingers had so easily aroused
her; the headmistress was at least six months pregnant!
Pregnancy! The infirmary! That must explain it. A
final repressed scene burst into her consciousness.
****
Of course! Just after seeing Johnny filling the
helpless Leanne, Mrs. Baxter had fled into the hall
trying to make sense of her reaction to what she had
just seen. A "Lovebright Infirmary" inscription
caught her eye. Well, at least she was pleased to see
one innovation she approved of. After so many
horrors, a sense of fairness impelled her to look in
on the infirmary so she could at least season he
report with something positive. The door was
partially oven, so she walked in.
"I don't know what is happening to me, Dr. Fecunda,"
the slim, dark-haired girl was sighing. "It seemed to
start when I transferred to this school."
"Just tell me what exactly is troubling you, dear" a
busty blonde in a short white smock replied
sympathetically.
"It's like I have always been so good in school, top
of the class. I'm going to be an astrophysicist and I
just don't have time for boys. They are so stupid;
you can't talk to them about anything serious! All
they are interested in is trying to grope you, anyway.
And here it's even worse. They expect you to enjoy
it!"
"Don't you?"
"That's the problem, Doctor, I think I'm starting to! I
ride the bus and every day a different boy sits by me
and tries to put his hand in my blouse and up under my
skirt. I fight them off but it's getting harder and
harder. And by the time I get to school, I'm so horny
I can hardly think. My grades are starting to
suffer."
"Well, Britney, you are a very pretty girl and you do
have a nice set of, er . you are well developed for
your age. It is rather natural for young men to
become excited and your reaction is not that unusual
either. You have reached an age when your body is
starting to give you some new priorities. Well built
girls like you just naturally need sex; it's nothing
to worry about. I suppose you have begun to
masturbate more frequently, right?"
"Masturbate?" the innocent teen asked.
"Play with yourself, you know, get yourself off."
Britney turned red. "Oh, no Dr. Fecunda. I'd never
do anything nasty like that!"
"There's nothing wrong with having a nice come by
yourself, even if there are much better ways. Maybe I
should take a closer look at you," she said and gently
pressed the confused girl back onto the examination table.
"What are you doing, Doctor?" the girl exclaimed,
taken aback.
"Just checking the sensitivity of your breasts,
Britney. Perhaps you respond too much to simple
fondling. How does that feel?" the doctor asked,
starting to massage first one then the other of the
teen's pert and now quite hard tits.
"Please, don... Oh, doctor. . I ."
"You like it, don't you, Britney? Looks like you have
the makings of quite a hot little girl. No wonder, a
little feel-up gets you so horny you can't think!"
"No, Doctor! I'm not ."
"Not fooling anyone, you little tart. I'll have to
check you down here, too." The woman smirked, pulling
up the girl's skirt. "My god! Still wearing
pantyhose? Soaked, though, just as I expected. Let's
get you out of those!"
"Ahh!," the confused teen gasped as the garment
gathered around her ankles and she suddenly felt fresh
air hit her soggy twat. "Uuuuhhh," she exclaimed
again as Dr. Fecunda's fingers began trailing lightly
over her pussy lips.
"How do you expect to let the boys diddle you if you
don't allow them access to this pretty little pussy,
Honey? You do like being diddled, don't you?" The
helpless teen only moaned in reply as the older
woman's expert fingers pushed her nearer and nearer to
orgasm.
Mrs. Baxter was transfixed. She knew she should rush
in and stop this terrible perversion, but she couldn't
quite bring herself to do it. Her own hand was too
busy in her own pussy, her fingers mimicking those of
the lascivious doctor with similar effects on her own
arousal. Again, she was so close...
"Of course a little sexpot like you enjoys being
diddled," the grinning doctor cooed; "but that's not
what your really need is it?" Not waiting for a reply,
she reached beneath the table and withdrew a large
dildo. Teasingly and then more determinedly, she
began sliding it into the teenager's well prepared
twat. "This is soooo much better, Honey, big and
thick, almost exactly what a horny girl like you
needs."
"No, No" the panting girl gasped, but her thrusting
hips belied her feeble protests.
"Yes, dear. You need to come. Just relax and I'll
get you there."
Little mewing sounds escaped the pretty girl's mouth
as she closed her eyes tightly.
"You are soooo horny, baby. Just relax and let me
make you feel good." Dr. Fecunda's voice had become
very soft, almost a whisper and she was working the
dildo deeply but slowly in and out of the almost
unconscious girl "That's it, honey. You need this
bad, but I'll take good care of you. Relax. Sooo
sleepy. You need a good come help you go to sleep. A
. nice . sleepy . Come!"
A final flick of the doctor's thumb and Britney
shrieked, bucked several times, and collapsed
unconscious. The teen's noisy orgasm covered similar
sounds from just outside as Mrs. Baxter almost passed
out from her own orgasm.
"Very good, dear. Have a nice nap. Now listen
carefully to what I'm going to tell you, but you won't
remember it when you wake up."
The next thing Mrs. Baxter heard was, "Time to wake
up, dear."
"Wow! What happened?" Britney asked.
"I was just examining you, honey and you got a little
excited. You had an orgasm, in fact. Nice, wasn't
it?
"Oh, god, yes."
"I've got a feeling you will be having a lot more
before long."
"Really? How?"
"Well you can get yourself off, of course, but it's a
lot more fun with boys. And there are plenty of them
that would love to help you. You're not going to pass
up any chances now, are you?"
"Not anymore! But if I start letting boys, er . be
with me, couldn't I get pregnant or something."
"You're a very smart girl, Britney," replied the
doctor proudly. But I can give you something so you
don't have to worry about that.
"Like a contraceptive, you mean?"
"Not exactly. The law does not allow me to give you a
contraceptive without your parents' permission," the
doctor explained. "And I'll bet you don't want them
to find out what you'll be doing, do you?"
"Oh, no!" she giggled.
"But if you take these pills, I guarantee you no
unwanted pregnancy."
"I don't understand."
"Just take one every day and in a few weeks you
will, Sweetie"
*****
But Jimmy was speaking again.
"Look, Mrs. Baxter," he said intensely, withdrawing
his hand from the sighing headmaster, "I know you mean
well, but if I may say so, I wonder if you are seeing
the situation here with unbiased eyes." He sucked the
headmaster's sex juices from his fingers, while beside
him Mrs. McLeod, still out of breath, began to slowly
tug her dress back into place over her bulging belly.
"I wonder if you are really prepared for the sexual
awareness of the young generation. In fact, I wonder
if you are not just projecting your own sexual
insecurities onto the school."
"Now just a minute! How dare you --"
"It isn't unusual for a woman of your age and position
to be a little bit uptight. After all, any kind of
sexual liberty threatens your own cozy little world,
doesn't it? A supportive husband, nice home, and no
need at all to confront your own debilitating fear of
sex lest it result in another pregnancy."
Mrs. Baxter lost her temper completely. "Sexual
inhibitions! Why you impertinent little fucker! You
haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about!
I'll show you who's afraid of pregnancy, you little
twerp!" Reaching behind her she unfastened the button
on her designer dress and pulled the zipper down.
Staring fixedly at Jimmy she pulled the dress down her
arms and off her torso, then pushed it down her hips
and onto the floor. "How's this for sexual
inhibition, asshole," she taunted, pulling off her
slip. "I bet you haven't seen a body built for baby
making like this since the last time you drooled over
Playboy!"
The fuming blonde took a deliberate step toward him.
Without hesitation she unfastened her bra and let it
slide down her arms. She held out the brassiere in
one hand and posed in the middle of the office, one
leg thrust forward, wearing only panties, pantyhose
and heels. "You were saying something about fear of
pregnancy?" she challenged. The bra joined the pile
on the floor. "What's the matter, smart-ass. Nothing
to say? What's happened to all your glib
explanations, huh?" She cupped her small, upturned
breasts in each hand. "I had my period two weeks ago.
So I should be fertile as a turtle. Let's see if
you're man enough to knock up a real woman, you half-
baked kid."
For once Jimmy looked abashed. "Why, uhm, Mrs.
Baxter, I'm, I'm amazed. I guess I misjudged you
completely. I'm terribly sorry about what I said. I,
I just had no idea." He got to his feet, looking
contrite, but there was a definite bulge in his school
pants.
"Course you didn't, you little fool. You're just a
kid. You need someone to show you how a real woman
takes charge when she chooses a male to get her
pregnant." She took another step toward him,
deliberately swinging her hips. "Ready to put bun in
THIS oven, youngster?" she cooed, playing with his
tie.
"Well, I, I guess so. How do I start?"
"Like this," the blonde husked. She pulled him toward
her by his tie and locked his lips in a deep and lust-
inspiring kiss. "Mmmmmmm, not bad for an amateur,"
she whispered a little while later. "Keep it up!"
They kissed again, longer, while Jimmy's hands
explored her tight, smooth curves.
After a few minutes of heavy necking Mrs. Baxter was
breathing hard. "Wow, you learn fast, baby," she
whispered. "Let's move on to the main event."
He pinched her left nipple. "Great idea."
"Oh! How do you want me?"
"Here, turn around. We need to get these off." While
the trim blonde giggled above him Jimmy knelt down and
slowly peeled down her pantyhose, making generous
contact with her skin as he went. She let him pull
the material off her feet, then impulsively stepped
back into her Italian-made shoes. "Now lean over the
chair, OK?"
"Lover!" Mrs. McLeod said with amusement, "You're not
going to take her from behind her are you?"
"Why not? She's up for having a baby, aren't you Mrs.
Baxter?" He slapped her buttocks playfully.
The rich housewife wiggled her hips in return.
"Course I'm up for it, kid. You think I've never had
a simple doggie-fuck before? ?S perfect for
conception!"
With a resigned smile, Jimmy unzipped his pants and
let them fall. He heard a sharp intake of breath from
Mrs. McLeod when his dick sprang free. Mrs. Baxter
was well lubricated and he had little trouble slipping
into her. She fell into his gentle, unhurried rhythm,
the blonde leaning over the arm of the overstuffed
chair and bucking back at Jimmy to drive his strokes
deeper. Little groans of contentment came from her
mouth.
Jimmy spoke without breaking his stride, "Headmaster,
I uh, think you had, ooof, better call, call Holly in
with, uh, the re-report. I'm not sure how long, I
can, l-last."
Mrs. Baxter's head was lowered over the chair arm.
"Ooooh, you kids," she teased. "No staying power."
But she was panting for breath.
The headmaster, who had been watching the proceedings
with open fascination, calmed herself with a deep
breath. She retrieved the telephone that Mrs. Baxter
had been gripping unknowingly. She looked at her
watch. "It's three-thirty. I hope she's not too
drunk." She punched a single digit. "Holly? No,
everything's under control, Jimmy's here and he's
taking care of everything." She leaned against the
desk and idly stroked Mrs. Baxter's hair. "Did you
finish that report we gave you? Good girl. Can you
please bring in the good copy. Yes, right now.
Thanks."
"Oh lord you fuck good! Give me that baby!" Mrs.
Baxter cried. She raised herself on her hands and
lowered her head, trying to look back to where Jimmy
was doing his best. He leaned over her and reached
around to toy with one breast. "I'm going to be
pregged up so fucking good," she wailed.
The door opened and a tall, long-haired brunette came
in. She had the slender good looks of a model,
exaggerated by a short black maternity dress and
platform sandals in soft black suede. Her large,
expressive eyes went wide when her gaze landed on the
couple beside the desk. "Lover!" she squealed when
she recognized Jimmy. "You're putting one in her
right here...I mean, like, right on the chair, oh god
that's sexy." She brushed back her hair and bangles
glittered on her wrist.
"Do you have the report, Holly?" Mrs. McLeod asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, the report. Sure, here it is." She
handed the headmaster a slim sheaf of typed pages.
The front page read "Mid-Term Report on Lovebright
Academy"
"The date's wrong," Mrs. McLeod observed. "The girl
wasn't supposed to come till tomorrow." She shrugged.
"It'll do."
Without dismissing Holly, who was clearly getting
turned on herself, Mrs. McLeod approached the chair
where the blonde housewife was still getting plugged.
"Mrs. Baxter, I thought we could save a little time.
We took the liberty of preparing a report on your
visit. It's dated tomorrow but that's not a problem.
It just needs your signature." She slid the report
beneath Mrs. Baxter's perspiring face.
"Signature? What? Wha signatuuuuuuure?" Mrs. Baxter
burbled, uncomprehendingly. "Ohmygod does he ever
know how to use that thing. I'm going to have
triplets!"
Mrs. Baxter sat down on the edge of the desk in front
of her. "Perhaps you would like to read it first.
"Here, I'll turn the pages for you." She flipped
casually through the ten-page report. Mrs. Baxter's
sex-fogged mind caught the words "academic
excellence", "innovative and imaginative",
"maintaining high standards" and "extremely favorable
impression".
The headmaster flipped to the last page. "Just sign
it here." She pointed to the line above Mrs. Baxter's
typed name. Uncaringly, Mrs. Baxter took the
proffered pen and scrawled her name across the page,
then tossed the pen away. "Wheeee! I'm coming!" she
shouted as her climax swept across her. Somewhere in
the ensuing convulsions of pleasure she heard Jimmy
cry out behind her and she realized he was coming too,
shooting his virile load far up into her. She vaguely
wondered if she might be ovulating, but the prick
inside her felt too good to worry.
At length the couple separated. Mrs. Baxter collapsed
happily into an overstuffed chair, keeping her legs
raised so the boy's baby juice would stay where it
would do the most good while Jimmy caught his breath.
"Well, we have the signature," Mrs. McLeod said
proudly, showing him the report. "Just as you said we
would. I'll make sure this gets to the Board." She
looked over at the naked, sweating housewife, still
basking in the afterglow of her climax. "Do you want
to give her another go round?"
Holly spoke up from across the room. "Hey, No! I
wanna be next!" She had one hand up under the hem of
her short dress.
Jimmy grinned. "No hurry, ladies. I think I have
enough for everybody this afternoon. I'm sure Mrs.
Baxter will want to stay a while. Let's have Dr
Fecunda check her into the infirmary for a few days,"
he smiled benevolently. "After all, we don't want her
to leave here with an unwanted pregnancy."
The headmaster looked admiringly at the father of her
next baby. Such a remarkable boy!
*****
The Board of Governors had ample time to read Mrs.
Baxter's glowing report before the next regular
meeting. The other men and I could hardly be
unreceptive. Mrs. Baxter herself led the discussion,
laughing and teasing and flirting at the front of the
room in her high heels and loose smock, hiked
provocatively by her proudly protruding belly.
The End
Comments welcomed at
Vargas111@ yahoo.com
or
the_story_writer@yahoo.com
--
You can read Homer Vargas stories at
http://www.storiesonline.net (Thanks, Lazeez.)
and
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Vargas/www/ (Thanks, Kristen)
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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