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The thunder of my pulse drowns out other sounds as her soft, warm hand rests on my shoulder. I cannot breathe as her silky hair brushes my cheek. She smells... clean. Clean and fresh, with just a hint of lavender and something else... "Very good, Justine!" I can barely hear her whispered compliment over the pounding of my pulse!I sigh with relief and longing as she drifts away, murmuring encouragement to other students as she passes.Why, oh why did I take THIS art class! Even as the thought enters my head, the answer niggles at the back of my brain: 'Because, Justine, you have a stupid schoolgirl crush on Ms. O'Connor!'Yes, I have to admit that I took the class because I wanted to be close to her. Never mind that every boy in school wants to get into my pants, never mind that I could have any of them I want, and have, from time to time. I had to go and fall in love with a TEACHER - a FEMALE teacher, for God's sake!But God! I never dreamed of the torture being in her class would heap. “Now listen carefully Trevor,” said Chrissie, still slightly breathless. “You have been a very good boy but you have to make a decision now.” Trevor looked at her quizzically. He had already experienced pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. He didn’t care that he hadn’t cum. Surely they would just want him to go now? “No one must know what just happened in this room. If any of our husbands ever found out it we would have a lot of explaining to do. If you promise never to tell a soul of what has just happened we will reward you. But you must promise.” “I promise,” said Trevor, licking pussy juice from his lips. Suddenly the blonde trained a digital camera on him and the flash made him blink. “And if you break your promise this will appear on your dating site,” grinned the brunette. “This will be the last date you ever have.” “I promise,” repeated Trevor. “Good boy,” smiled Chrissie. The women sat on the bed around his cock, which stood up stiff and unsatisfied. In turn the three women.
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Charlotte breathed deeply as she raised her quivering arse one more time, legs spread wide, arching her back as far as her position over the desk would allow, so it stuck up and out; a tantalisingly eager target. * The Company Picnic had been going well. It was in a lovely Reserve, with wood fired bbq's and picnic tables. A real bushland setting, not just some suburban park. Charlotte had created quite a stir in her lime green lycra gym shorts and cut off cream lace top. Her natural tan was so much more appealing than that peculiar streaky orange hue so many women seemed to adopt, post Jersey Shore. She had also distinguished herself during the Touch Football game, where she managed to score the only try of the match...and was carried off the field in victory on the shoulders of her admirers. A few of whom, oddly, seemed to have been on the opposing side. But even the vanquished seemed keen to be one of the lucky few who got to hoist her up and even fleetingly have their hands on.

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