The Home Ec Lab was full of teen girls, dozens of them. Freshman girls, sophomore girls, and junior girls; among the senior girls were Stephanie Eklund and Diane Young.
There were teachers there, besides Mrs. Williams. My English teacher, Ms. Mott, was sitting next to Kristin’s former lover, Mrs. Ashcroft. Also present were several former teachers of mine, which puzzled me until I remembered that I had “always” looked like this.
Most of the freshman girls looked at me like I were a rock star; all of the teachers looked at me like I were Casanova. I decided that the reason was that many freshman girls were still virgins, while none of the teachers were.
The older schoolgirls were imitating either the freshman girls or the teachers—they were looking at me either with worshipful admiration or with blatant desire. Interestingly, both Stephanie Eklund and Diane Young were showing virgin(?) expressions. Hm.
Natasha looked at the crowd in confusion. “Why is all girls did comink, Harold to seeink? Basketball team is more tall, and red-haired boy on soccer team—”
“Football team, Anya,” corrected Ilyana from across the room.
“—on football team is bigger muscles havink.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Elena. “I can’t tell you why Marvin is the biggest stud muffin in the school—”
“—but he definitely is Plato Smith’s number-one, Grade-A Prime stud-muffin,” purred Kristin.
Mrs. Williams slapped her forehead. “Speaking of muffins, we have some in the refrigerators. Would you like some, Marvin?”
Anna Kay looked at me and asked, “Does any of this make sense to you?”
I shrugged. “It’s not because I’m driving a babe-magnet car.”
By now, Mrs. Williams was standing nearby with a plateful of muffins, looking eager to please. If she had a tail, she’d be wagging it.
I shook my head. “Maybe after the measuring. Where do I change?”
“We have our own bathroom,” Mrs. Williams said. She pointed.
The bathroom was painted pink, and there was not a urinal to be found. I made sure to put the toilet seat back down.
Dozens of throats gasped when I stepped out of the bathroom, in all my six-foot-tall, flat-abs, wide-shoulders glory. Mrs. Ashcroft blurted out, “Oh god, he looks fuckable!”
Ms. Mott replied primly, “Marvin is more than just a sex object, Bethany.”
While Ilyana was taking her tape measurements, she acted businesslike (while still looking at me starstruck). Ilyana took a lot of measurements—then suddenly she looked nervous. “Marvin, um, I have one more to do.”
One of her hands pressed the end of the tape measure against my ankle.
She said, “I, um, need to measure your, um, inseam.”
Ilyana’s other hand, with measuring tape slipping through the fingers, moved up my leg, then hesitated. That’s when the whole room figured out what Ilyana’s problem was.
I smiled at the girl. “Put your hand wherever it needs to go to get a good number.”
And that is how a fifteen-year-old virgin’s hand briefly pressed against my shorts-covered testicles. I heard a teacher say, “Lucky girl.”
Then Mrs. Williams repeated the measuring of me. It actually took Mrs. Williams three times as long as Ilyana took, because Mrs. Williams insisted on explaining everything she was doing. And apparently, there are many “tricks of the trade” when measuring someone for custom-made clothing.
Just as Ilyana had, Mrs. Williams postponed the inseam’s measurement till last. Mrs. Williams was kneeling down, very close to me, with one hand close to my groin, when she “asked permission” with a raised eyebrow. I nodded, she put her hand where it needed to be, and a few seconds later, she called out a number. But she took her time pulling her hand away from my balls; and when she stood up again, she gave me a bedroom smile.
Well, that was a unique experience, I thought. Now to change into regular clothes, give Anna Kay her promised trig tutoring, then go home and have that long-overdue conversation with Fatima.
Instead, Mrs. Ashcroft yelled, “CAN WE FUCK HIM NOW?” And all my plans went in the trash.
Mrs. Williams still was standing close to me. She dropped to her knees again, saying, “If you’re about to fuck, I hope that I may serve you in some way. I am yours.”
At that, Ilyana walked up to me, knelt down next to Mrs. Williams, and said, “I also am yours, and I also ask to serve you. I’ve touched a boy’s thing, so I’m not totally clueless.”
I said, “There’s not going to be any sex. I’m going to get dressed, then I’m going to tutor Anna Kay.”
Mrs. Ashcroft walked up. “Tutoring? But we all want to fuck you!”
Anna Kay exclaimed, “Oh god, this is my fantasy come true! They all want him, but I get him!”
We were interrupted by yelling in Russian. Natasha was yelling at Ilyana, and pointing to the door. But Ilyana wasn’t buying—she wasn’t getting off her knees, and she was as loud as Natasha.
I held up a hand while looking at Natasha; she went silent. I turned to Ilyana and almost said to her I don’t want you to serve me, but caught myself in time—that would have been a disastrous mistake.
Instead, I said to Ilyana, “Let’s just be friends.”
“Okay,” she said. She blinked, and then the worshipful devotion in her eyes was gone. She stood up. “I like you, Marvin, I always will, but I need to run now. I have sewing to start. See ya.”
Ilyana kissed me on the cheek, then loaded up her bookbag and left.
Anna Kay whimpered. “No, don’t go. Things were about to get interesting.”
Meanwhile, I was looking down at Mrs. Williams, who still was kneeling by me. “Mrs. Williams, let’s just be friends.”
She nodded and stood up. “I like you, Marvin, I always will, but I need to get the Home Ec Lab ready for class tomorrow.” Within seconds, she was bustling about.
Anna Kay gave a disappointed moan.
Mrs. Ashcroft said, “So does this mean that I’m first to get fucked?”
I looked over at Kristin and Elena. Kristin had her hands at the back of her neck, ready to untie the straps that held her dress up; Elena had her hands on a blouse button—a word from me, and each of them would get naked.
I thought, I know how to free Elena now! Taking Elena away from Jorje had been bothering my conscience all day. I could fix that with my little “Let’s just be friends” speech, and Elena would have her mind back—
And then what? Elena had publicly broken up with Jorje on my order. If I sent her away now, she’d be a laughingstock, and who knows if Jorje would take her back?
No, I wasn’t going there. Unless I decided to be a rat bastard, Elena would stay mine. Of course, there were compensations.
But that didn’t mean I had to go around stealing more women. I yelled out, “ATTENTION, WOMEN AND GIRLS! IF YOU’RE UNDER EIGHTEEN, EXCEPT FOR KRISTIN CURRY, LET’S JUST BE FRIENDS! IF—”
“No-o-o!“ Anna Kay cried. Because high-school girls were suddenly standing up, the fire of desire or the glow of adoration gone from their eyes.
Anna Kay sighed, and started pulling books and papers from her bookbag.
Mrs. Ashcroft was still standing there, still looking at me with red-hot desire. No way—the idea of fucking her was wrong on so many levels. I raised my voice again: “IF YOU’RE MARRIED, LET’S JUST BE FRIENDS.”
Mrs. Ashcroft said, “Marvin, a threesome might be fun sometime. But right now, I need to go home and start making dinner.” She turned and headed for the exit, as other teachers already were doing.
Anna Kay said, “Marvin, you win. On the first review problem, I got ‘cosine X minus square-root-of-three times sine X, all times one-half.’ Is that what you got?”
And that’s the moment when I went a little crazy.
Reader, let me remind you who was in the Home Ec Lab right then:
Anyway, I suddenly felt the urge to yell, “I NEED TO FUCK! I NEED TO FUCK NOW!”
Anna Kay (and everyone else in the room) went totally silent. Natasha was looking at me like I were a Martian.
Then women were speaking up: “Do me! Do me first!”
Anna Kay asked, “So we’re not doing tutoring after all?”
I grunted out, “No, I will tutor you, while I fuck them! Go get a clipboard!”
Then I told Kristin, “Go fish my car keys out of my pants. Go to my car—East parking lot, 1995 Chevrolet Corsica, faded blue paint, ‘X104.3’ bumper sticker—and get my condoms out of the glove compartment. Run!“
Seconds later, I slapped my forehead. “Kristin, don’t run! But move as fast as you safely can in those heels.”
Then I called out, “Does anyone have a condom with her?”
“I always carry some,” a voice answered.
Standing up and holding a white-packaged condom was my former Biology teacher. Miss Collins had long, black hair; and enormous breasts that made her white lab coat hang in intriguing ways. Needless to say, this Biology teacher inspired biological fantasies in 90 percent of her male students.
I stood up and gestured toward the Home Ec Lab’s couch. “Come join me, Miss Collins.”
She walked with a hip-sway that I’m sure was never taught in any Education class. “Marvin, my lovers call me ‘Susan.’”
Anna Kay ran up to me then. “I have a clipboard!”
Sometime that night, my English teacher was fucking me and yelling, “It’s so good, oh yes, it’s so good. The circle is now complete, the student is now the master!”
I’ve never heard of an orgy as strange as this, and it wasn’t only Ms. Mott and my other sex partners who were acting strange.
I was obsessed with fucking every woman there, and I was obsessed with tutoring Anna Kay.
While I was lying on top of this woman or that woman, pistoning away, Anna Kay was kneeling beside the couch, holding the clipboard where I could read it. And I was going through each review problem that Anna Kay had written up, telling her what she’d done right, pointing out where she’d gone wrong, and making suggestions when she got stuck.
Normally, I couldn’t do that. If for some crazy reason, I’d try talking about Math while my penis was trying to party, I’d swiftly lose my erection. That, or I’d be unable to concentrate on the Math. But somehow, the genie magic was enabling me to multitask—hell, the magic was making me multitask.
To the annoyance of my sex partners. At least a dozen times I was asked, “Can you stop with the damned Trig, and talk only about pounding my pussy?” To which I replied, “Sorry, but Anna Kay still gets my attention.”
(Each time I said that, Anna Kay stuck her hand in her panties and said, “That is so hot.")
But along with my craving to fuck women was a craving to enslave them. It turned out that a woman became my touch-slave as soon as any part of my body touched any part of hers. So really, to enslave a woman, all I needed to do was fuck her and then say, “I claim you.”
But opposing this urge to create a harem was the feeling that I must not do anything so selfish that it would offend my parents.
Yeah, I know how that reads—in print, it makes me sound like a goody-two-shoes. Well, I wasn’t that at all—I was fucking women who, in most cases, had boyfriends. But I would be damned if I stole those women away from those boyfriends.
So at the end of most of my fucks in the Home Ec Lab, as I was peeling off the used condom, I looked at the woman and said, “Let’s just be friends.” That included Miss Collins, by the way, because she was seriously dating a chemistry teacher over at Oscar Grant.
At some point, Natasha made a call on her cell phone. (Don’t ask me when. I was distracted at the time.) Some time later, Harold walked into the Home Ec Lab, still wearing that purple satin shirt. Harold stopped to stare at me and my current couchmate—till Natasha whistled. When Harold got near Natasha, she yanked down her panties and pulled up her skirt, as he dropped to his knees. For the next hour(?), he ate her out.
Eventually, Anna Kay and I worked our way through her trig assignment. And as soon as I finished the trig tutoring, my craving to fuck (and claim harem slaves) vanished.
By then, I’d fucked eighteen teachers and senior girls in the Home Ec Lab, plus Elena and Kristin. Somehow, even with all that fucking, the sex never got painful for me.
When I returned to my senses and was no longer fuck-crazed, I had claimed Bellina Mott, Stephanie Eklund, and Diane Young. Minutes later, when I finally changed clothes and walked out of the Home Ec Lab, I was surrounded by five young women, all of whom were my claimed harem slaves.
But life was not all roses as I walked out of the Home Ec Lab, no sirree. Once again, it was late in the evening, and I had not started my homework. Plus, I still had not talked with Fatima.