We managed to bring the car back into Dottie's garage before the sun actually came up. We would have had no end of trouble explaining our appearance to any of the nosier types who might have seen us in the light. Peering into mirrors in the cold grey light of morning both of us looked a little ghastly.
"Like something the cat dragged in," Dottie said, checking a bruised ear.
"No respectable cat would touch me," I said. My hair hung like a wrung mop.
"How could we?" Dottie said. "Honey, I… I mean, are we crazy?"
I giggled reminiscently. "Maybe," I said. "But would you rather give up men, or something?'
Dottie blushed and shook her head. "I guess we're just sex fiends."
"So, let's live with it," I said. "Now, who gets the hot tub first?"
I've heard that science has found out that the female is sort of less destructible than the male, or something like that; I mean, they have the muscles and all, but we women out.. last them, you might say. It's probably true. That morning, Dottie and I managed to look our normal selves again inside an hour, and we even managed to get some of the neglected homework done.
Not only that, but we were in school the next day, looking just as scrubbed and virginal as ever.
Not that it did a bit of good, alas. I mean, we tried, but when Friday arrived, Dottie called me, her voice sounding as gloomy as a funeral on the phone.
"It didn't help my psychology," she said.
"You mean you're going to fail too?" I asked.
"I'm definitely flunking English," she said. "You mean you're flopping math? Gee, I thought… didn't you say all that stuff was going to help our psychologies?"
"I don't think Mr. Strong cares about psychology," I said, meaning my math instructor, who was a very groovy looking cat, but a Capitan Bligh type.
"Mr. Zeller doesn't either," Dottie said.
"Maybe we aren't flunking because our sex lives weren't fulfilled," I said, thoughtfully. "Maybe we're just dumb."
"But it certainly didn't look good. The term was almost over, and there wasn't going to be another chance to up those awful grades, except for one more test.
"Maybe we ought to give up men until June," Dottie suggested.
"Shudder," I told her. "Suicide first. We aren't going to pass that test, you know. Not with out heads…" I stopped, with a glorious thought. "But maybe…"
"I dig that Mr. Strong," Dottie said, wrinkling her brow. "Now if I asked him to give you just a little bit of a chance on those grades…"
"And if l asked your Mr. Zeller the same thing for you…"
"Only why would they do it?" Dottie asked.
"We could seduce them," I said. "I saw a French movie on the late show… Brigitte Bardot did the same thing."
"You aren't Brigitte Bardot," Dottie pointed out.
"I'm a lot younger," I said. "So, if I got seduced… I could threaten to tell."
"Wow!" Dottie said.
"And if I get your instructor and you get mine, it's not so… unethical," I said. "It's unselfish. Isn't it?" Well, it all made perfectly good sense at the time.
Getting it all done required some planning, but for a couple of scheming chicks like ourselves, it was easy. At least, my half was, but you would hardly expect anyone to plan for the sort of thing Dottie ran into.
But for me, it was simply a matter of ogling Mr. Zeller, who was a fairly susceptible type, as I could plainly see. He almost burst a button on the day I managed to let him catch a good look at my leg; the day after, I succeeded in letting a very interesting gap appear in my blouse, and from his expression, I could tell he was hooked. After that, it was just a matter of getting him into the right place at the right time.
In the French movie, Brigitte had just run off into the woods, with the seducee following at a gallop; but in real life, I found out there were things to contend with. Such as Mr. Zeller being a really cautious type, and running off in other directions every time a good chance came up. I suppose he had been grabbed at often enough to make him careful; he was kind of cute, what with a sort of Gary Cooper look and all.
But I finally nailed him. I got into the back of his car, and scrunched down, at the end of the school day; as I thought, he came out, got in, and drove off without seeing me. I knew he lived out on the North Road, so I didn't squeak until we were going along just outside of town, where nobody would see us. Then I popped up with a cheery hello.
Somehow, he didn't seem to be as surprised as I'd thought. His expression was a little peculiar, too-more of a smirk. In fact, as he slowed the car and turned up one of the side roads, he looked a little more like Vincent Price than Gary Cooper, and it occurred to me that he might very well be onto my little game.
"Yes, indeed, Honey," Mr. Zeller said, pulling up in a secluded spot. "I don't mind discussing your grades at all." And he smirked a little more. "Call me Sam," he suggested, leaning back, and giving me a hot-eyed look.
"It isn't exactly my grades," I told him. "It's a friend of mine, Dottie."
"Ah, yes," he said. "I thought it was a little odd that you would worry about passing English. But Dottie, now… I'm afraid she's going to have some trouble." He nodded. "But… how is it she didn't speak to me herself?"
"Well…" I batted the eyelashes, you know… that way. "She's shy. I mean, everybody thinks you're pretty… well, sexy, sort of. I mean, she told me she wouldn't know what to say if you… well, asked her to do something in return, for a better grade. Dig?"
He laughed, one of those chuckly sounds that gave me goosebumps.
"What would you think I might ask her to do, in return for better marks?" he asked, still hot-eyeing me.
"Gee, I don't know," I said, with my special round-eyed look. "Teachers… well, everybody knows teachers aren't supposed to fool around. Anyway, I wouldn't think a groovy cat like you would want to do anything with a kid, I mean… you probably have lots of chances with more experienced women, and…"
He laughed again, but there was a funny note in it this time.
"Sure," he said, "In Sodom, Connecticut. This place is simply jumping with swinging types. Look, my nubile nymphet, I used to teach in the city. I took this place because I got tired of ducking bricks and switchblades. But after a year out here in the backwoods, I'm about ready to teach in the worst school in the city. I might get killed, but I won't be bored to death."
"Golly," I said sympathetically.
He opened the glove compartment and took out a metal flask, which he opened, and tipped to his lips.
"It's referred to as Dutch courage," he said, and offered it to me. I took a small swallow, and sneezed.
"Wow!" I said. "What is it?"
"Cognac," he said. "I keep it in there for snakebites and seductions and so on. You can tell how often I've been bitten lately by the fact that it's still full."
Seductions? I asked myself. Who was supposed to be seducing who… or whom?… After all, he was an English teacher.
"In fact," he said after a minute, "I've gotten to the point where I have completely lost all common sense, Honey." He reached over, and began to very slowly and carefully undo the buttons of my blouse, as cool as a cucumber.
"Hey," I said, but there didn't seem to be much that I ought to do about it. He went on unbuttoning as he talked.
"It might interest you to know that you're about the fifth adolescent Mata Hari that's tried this in the last two months," he said, undoing the last button. He peeled back my blouse, and contemplated my boobs with a thoughtful expression, like a man shopping for grapefruit in a supermarket; he reached out and tweaked one nipple, still absently.
"Also, you might feel flattered," he said, and tweaked the other one. "You're the first I'm going to give in to." He cupped one of my bumpers in his hand, and squeezed a bit. "Yummy, m'girl," he commented. "Yes, I'm finally going to risk my professional reputation and my liberty, and throw a good one into you, young lady. Because I'm about as bored and frustrated with things around here as I can get, and because I haven't had any in weeks, and because you're as. sexy a bit of puberty as I've seen yet…" He bent over and started kissing here and there. It was pretty nice at that.
"And NOT because you're trying to get a good mark out of me, Honey girl, for your friend or yourself," he added, with another chuckle.
"You make it sound awful," I protested, wriggling around in his grasp.
"Calculating, yes," he agreed. "Awful… well, no." His hands ran up my thighs, caressingly, and around my hips; he found my crotch, and tickled it, chuckling. "The complete modern chicklet," he said, and I gasped at the effect of his busy fingers. "No bra and no pants either. Came prepared, didn't you? Well, Duck so did I. You'll see."
He let go of me, and pulled a lever; the seats folded back suddenly, and flattened down into the back of the car, and I went over backward along with them. He sat beside me, grinning down at me.
"This car used to belong to a real playboy friend of mine," he said, undoing his tie. "Believe it or not, this is the first time I've had any use for that gadget."
I noticed that his breath was coming a little faster, in spite of the cool sounding way of talking. I put my arms behind my head, and let my breasts pop up and out a bit, watching him.
"Gee, what are you going to do, Mr. Zeller?" I asked.
"Call me Sam," he said, removing his shirt. He had a nice broad chest, very hairy, and a good tan. He stared down at my up thrust boobers and licked his lips. "MY! You aren't a virgin by any chance, are you?"
"Oh, no," I said without thinking, and then I blushed.
"Good," he said. 'Though I didn't think so I'll bet there isn't one over twelve in town. So… you really want to know what I'm going to do, Honey?"
He leaned back on one elbow, kicking off his shoes, and grinned comfortably at me, sliding an arm around my waist and grasping my boob again.
"I'm going to screw you silly," he said. "I'm going to hump you till you holler. Or, to switch to the language of the sex education class, I'm going to place my masculine member between your labia, and shove it all the way up your vaginal passage until it hits your back teeth, my blonde Honeykins. Come here." And he grabbed at the zipper on my skirt, panting a bit harder.
I assumed it was time to help a bit, so I pulled down his zipper. The biggest tool I'd ever seen in real life emerged, standing straight up. It was even better than the Greek type's and it changed my whole point of view about English teachers.
"Golly!" I said. "I'll bet it could. Do what you said, I mean." He had my skirt off by this time, so I assisted with getting his pants down, while he continued to nibble me all over. It was very exciting.
In a minute, he was kneeling over me, and I was feeling wild tingly waves going over me from head to foot. This sex thing was getting better all the time, I noticed. I spread my legs apart and reached for his thing, grabbing it; it was hot as a stovepipe, and he let out a wild yip when I grabbed it. I tried to get it lined up for action, but he evidently had a new idea; the old-fashioned position wasn't exactly right, I gathered. He wanted to make a small improvement, which was a fat pillow; he got it out of somewhere under the seat, and slid up under my rear end, elevating me.
Then he knelt between my thighs and popped it in with one long, hard, delicious thrust, all the way to the very end, and held it there while I literally quivered like Jello.
"Ooooh, SAM," was all I could say. He held me tight, panting, and chuckling.
"You like that, do you?" he asked, squeezing.
"It's marvy," I said. "Oh, wow! I'm stuffed. Oh, God, don't move, don't take any of it out. Wuh… wait… hold it… like that!"
Feeling as if I were sitting on an electric wire didn't make it easy to concentrate on anything, but I tried; I wanted to use those vaginal muscles I'd found out about. Sam stayed where he was, panting and I made my muscles ripple up and down, and grab tight.
"Yow!" he said, and his fingers dug into my bottom, hard, "You little devil!"
"Mmm!" I said, and did it again. "Want me to stop? Don't you like that?"
"Aaah," he said, his eyes rolling as if they'd come loose.
"Oooh, lovely," I gasped, squeezing harder. "Now… now you can… push. Come on, Sam, do it. Do it to me…eeee." He hadn't waited for a second request, but started right in, long hard stroking movements that slammed his thing all the way in every time, jolting me hard. Every time it went all the way in, I let out a gasp and he did too, faster and faster, until I was kicking my heels wildly and feeling hot waves rising higher and higher
.
"I'm coming, I'm coming…" I gasped in his ear, and he thumped harder still. "So… am… I," he told me, squeezing me against him so that my breasts were mashed into his prickly chest hair, which felt marvelous.
"Aahgh," he said, and suddenly slowed down. I had just been thinking how utterly groovy all that hair felt, like a sandpapery prickly tingly… and all of a sudden, I went all over. I mean, it felt as if I'd been turned into a great big amoeba, absolutely boneless with one enormous ecstatic explosion going on all over me.
"Oh, gah… gah!" I heard myself saying, which made no sense, of course… while he kept sliding it in, slowly now, once… crikey!… twice… wow!… and the third time, and hot, wet, streaming, like somebody had fired off a volcano inside me, wheeee!
I haven't any idea how long we just lay there, gasping, getting-our breaths back. But I got my head together before he did, which is just another point in favor of women, as I've said before.
He was lying on his back, breathing hard, and not looking much like an English teacher, I can tell you. I was feeling all warm and lovely, and ready for more of whatever there was; I got up on one elbow and peered at him, but he wasn't noticing.
"Yummy!" I said. "Sam?"
"UH," he said. "Whuh?"
"You're the greatest," I told him, running my finger. down his chest.
"Wow!" he said, not opening his eyes. "So… are… you."
I glanced down at that marvelous instrument of his, and it was fairly relaxed, alas. Half-mast, you might say. Well, Honey knows what to do about that, I told myself, and slid down a bit toward it.
I got hold of his jewels in my hand, and used a finger to prop up his thing, which gave a small started twiddle at my touch.
"There's life in it yet," I said, and put out my tongue, touching it lightly. It ascended another half-inch or so, and I chuckled.
"Hey," Sam said, up near my middle. "What?"
"Just doing things,,' I said, and gently grabbed his dong between my lips, like a lollipop. It was salty and rather nice, I thought, and I ran my tongue up and down it. The response was pretty fast, all right; it expanded to nearly its original size, and I let out a strangled GLUP!
But I wasn't going to let go, now that I bad it, although I knew I had only the top fourth of it, what with the improved giant economy size. I kept on lolloping, hearing Sam's surprised gasps behind me.
"Jeez, Honey girl, I can't… oh, hey! I can't let you.., do it all," I heard him say, and then felt his lips exploring the crease of my thighs and his tongue dipping into my bellybutton. His hands grabbed my knee and spread me out, and suddenly I felt his bristly chin on the inside of my thighs. I almost bit down in sheer excitement; he never knew how close he came to disaster just then. And when he started to use his tongue, flicking it in and out of my slit, I could hardly remember what I was doing.
I was starting to cream all over again, grabbing his head between my legs and probably nearly choking him to death, while I gave as much attention as I could to nibbling and gobbling.
"Urgh!" I said, my whole body twitching and wriggling as wild sensations chased each other up and down. "Uff ghull, SQUFF!" I haven't any idea what I meant, except that it really isn't polite to talk with your mouth full, anyway. And mine was full, all right; I gobbled in as much as I could, wriggled my tongue against that delicious thing, and sucked hard.
Sam clutched my thighs and uttered a strangled sound, and suddenly my mouth was filled with his juices, as we thrashed wildly.
"Oogh, that… was… wonderful." He was gasping, and we rolled, clutching at each other, his hands all over me.
"Me too," I said confusedly, and grabbed at his tool which had somehow escaped in the last few minutes. "Oh, golly, it's still big!" I exclaimed in some surprise. I hung onto it, tickling.
"You'll kill me," Sam gasped, but his hands were opening my thighs again.
"A great way… to go," I said, and squealed happily an he rammed it all the way down into me again. I held onto his hair, gabbling in his ear. "I don't want to stop, ever, whooEE! Oh, Sam, do it hard!"
Which was perfectly true; I didn't want to stop, believe me. Not even when the bomb went off, and we were absolutely totally disintegrated this time-crash!
Several hours later, I was telling Dottie all about it up in her room, and she was listening with her eyes as round as saucers.
"What happened then?" she asked.
"He dropped me off here, and drove home," I said, matter-of-factly, and shrugged. "I mean, even an English teacher has some limits. Gee, I hope he made it all right. He was a little shaky-looking."
"Christmas!" Dottie said. "Maybe… do you suppose he'll fix my marks? Golly, if he was all that good, maybe we shouldn't have switched around."
"Oh, I suppose if you want to try, you might manage to catch him," I said, with my evil grin. "I mean, as soon as he recovers a bit."
"You're an awful influence on me," Dottie said, "I mean, I feel all corrupted." Then she giggled, and I did too.
"Isn't it great, being corrupted?" I asked. "Now, how about Mr. Strong? What are you going to do about him?"
"Oh, it's all set," Dottie said. "Hey, I'd better start. It's nearly eight."
"You mean tonight?" I asked, surprised. "Where?"
"I'm supposed to go over to his place and talk about my marks," she said. "But I'll get him onto your marks soon enough. I called his number and a woman answered and said he'd be there tonight."
"A woman?" I said. "He isn't married."
"She said she was his sister, visiting for the day," Dottie said. "But she won't be there tonight, ha!"
As she spoke, she was hastily ripping off her clothes and digging into her bureau for others. A shower of frilly articles flew over her shoulder, and then she was dressing.
"Lace panties?" I said, watching. "And that bra? Gee, I wasn't wearing anything underneath, this afternoon. I didn't want to slow Mr. Zeller down any," I giggled.
"Mr. Strong's more a sort of… Continental type," Dottie informed me. She dabbled perfume behind her ears and between her boobs. She giggled too. "I think men like to have something to sort of tear off us."
It was a thought, at that. "Maybe I'll in-vest in some lacies, too," I said. "If it works." I stood up. "You be sure and tell me what happened, you hear?"
"I will," Dottie promised, as I opened the door to leave. "Maybe I'll stop by on my way home, all right?"
"I'll wait up," I said. "I just have to hear all about your Continental type, wow."
There was nobody home when I got there, which was just as well, because I was beginning to feel just a bit itchy, simply thinking about it all. I would probably have tried to get poor Harold to make it again if I'd been able to catch him, but he was pretty elusive since our last go-round. Instead, I watched some TV and thought about what a terrible sex-nut I was getting to be, and giggled some more.
About three in the morning Dottie showed up, tip-toeing up to my room and entering; I sat up and stared at her, agog.
"You look like the Ghost of Christmas Past!" I said. "What happened? Golly, Mr. Strong was a real Continental, wasn't he?"
"Ooooh," Dottie said, and sank onto the bed. "Oooog."
She looked as if she had been playing football. Her hair was all loose and stringy, several buttons were missing here and there, and her eyes were absolutely bagged.
I felt green with envy.
"It wasn't Mr. Strong," Dottie said, falling over on her back.
"What?"
"It was my own silly mistake," she said. "I checked the phone book later. That wasn't his number. It was somebody named Miss Strong. No relation, either. She must have misunderstood me when I called-or maybe she planned it that way."
"I don't understand," I said, puzzled.
"I don't mind being… some kind of nymphomaniac, darn it," Dottie said, staring at the ceiling, "but a freak…"
"Freak?"
"I'll have to tell you the whole thing," she said. "I got to the apartment, and there was this woman. A big woman, like some sort of Valkyrie, you wouldn't believe it. Sort of beautiful, but… oh, boy, what happened. She started talking to me, and gave me a couple of drinks, and then…"
"You mean there wasn't any man there?" I asked. "But the way you look…"
"There didn't have to be any man," Dottie said. "It's probably your fault, darn it. I mean, we… well, you and Idid things together, sort of. You know. So maybe that's why l…"
"You mean the woman did all this? This Miss Strong?"
"Uh huh," Dottie said. "She got me all naked before I knew what was happening. She was doing all these wild things to me, and then she put on this enormous thing; my God, it was a yard long."
"A yard long?"
"Oh, maybe not quite that big, but big enough," Dottie said. "Oh, boy. What she was doing… you'd never believe it. I mean, she did me, up and down and around, all of it." She sat up and glared at me, groggily. "And that's just the trouble, darn it; I liked it. I'm going to turn into a freak too, maybe. I mean, it's all right to like it from boys, but not that way!"
"Oh, well," I said. "If that's all that's worrying you… according to the books, you shouldn't worry. You're normal."
"You think so?" Dottie asked, uncertainly.
"Sure," I said. "Only… wow. If you got the wrong one… and I'm not so sure I really managed to change Mr. Zeller's mind… we still aren't going to pass, are we?"