Back to School Special

"You think so?" I slowly turned back to pull out into traffic.

"And, just for the record, you didn't embarrass me," he stated.

"Okay--next time I'll try harder, how's that?" I returned, shooting him a sexy stare.

Pulling into the clinic's parking lot, I located an open spot near the entrance and parked. Collecting his things, he thanked me for the lift.

"Won't you be needing a ride home?"

"I'll call Sandra. She can pick me up from here."

"That's silly. I mean, why have her drive all the way into town, when your place is right on my way home?"

"How do you know where I live?" Grant questioned.

"Route 12, right? Near Twin Corners, right?"

"Yes, that is correct. But, how do you..."

"I used to work in R&D. I got pretty good at researching, and as you might have noticed, "development" kinda came naturally," I laughed, and stuck out my chest.

Grant gave me his widest grin. Returning his books back behind the seat, he shot me another sexy smile, and promised not to be too long. As he headed toward the clinic, I wondered whether my flirting was over the top. "God, for an older guy, he definitely has the smoldering sexy thing going on!" I sighed, and realized the professor wasn't the only one turned on.

Climbing out of the jeep, I found my way inside the clinic, and the restroom. I wiggled out of my damp panties, redid my makeup, and went back to the jeep to take in the sun. Stripping off my white shirt, I laid back in my tube top to tan my shoulders. I dozed off for maybe ten minutes, when I heard the jeep door open.

"Well, that was fast. What's the prognosis Professor?" I asked, reaching up to shadow my eyes from the sun's glare.

"Just a sprain, like I suspected, and please call me Bill."

"Great! That still gives us plenty of time for that picnic," I winked, and started up the jeep.

"You and your picnic. Okay, but let's get out of town first."

"That's a deal. I know the perfect spot," I added, pulling out of the lot.

"Don't most picnics require things like food and refreshments?" He asked, now completely focusing on my tits billowing from the pink tube top.

"Well, if you feel we need to meet a requirement, I suppose we could stop there and stock up," I mentioned, motioning at the corner liquor store just up ahead.

"I like the way you think Barbara, almost as much as the way you look."

After scoring a pint of scotch, we got back on the road that would take us out of town. Keeping my eyes on the road, peripherally I could tell Bill was still appreciating my curves. Between watching my flying skirt, tan legs, and bouncing melons, I figured he had plenty to keep himself entertained.

"Are you thirsty?"

"GOD, I thought you'd never ask! Here, give me some of that," I said, taking a healthy swig from the pint-sized brown-sacked bottle.

"So what's the attraction? I mean, for all you know, I could be some dirty old man," the professor pointed out, taking a swig.

"One can only hope," I laughed, taking the bottle for another hit. "Maybe I'm just after a decent grade, and decided this would be one way to get it," I snickered.

"Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. Here, I was hoping I had this Svengali-thing happening, where you are inexplicably drawn to me."

"Like I would be swept away by you and forced to obey your every whim?"

"Yes, something like that," he laughed. "I would command you to, say, bare your chest, and..."

Before he could finish, I hooked two fingers in my cleavage and yanked down my tube top. Turning briefly toward him, I hoisted my right boob up, leaned down, and licked my hard nipple.

"Oh my GOD, Barbara!" He shouted, before frantically checking the road for any casual observers.

"See I told ya I could embarrass you," I grinned, before pulling my top back up.

The weathered road sign said: Dawson's Ranch, Exit 2 miles.

"I DO love watching you!" The professor shook his head.

"Good, cause I like watching you too," I purred, feeling my juices starting to flow.

"We've lived here for damn near five years, and I don't believe I've ever taken this road," Bill stated, as I turned onto Dawson Road.

"Really? Then you've missed a pretty neat little hideaway. They have camping, a good-sized fishing pond, swimming, after-the-show necking, and picnicking, of course. It's quite popular during the season. I doubt there is anybody here this early though," I smiled.

"I suppose you've taken advantage of all those activities?"

"Oh yeah, at one time or another... when I was younger... except for the picnicking. I suppose I was saving that for us," I said, reaching over to squeeze his thigh.

My touch must have surprised him, as his hand topped mine. Nervously, like some young virgin faced with his first chance for sex, his hand remained on mine to keep it still. Driving through a series of tall trees, I spotted a secluded picnic area. Pulling to a stop among a group of ash and maples, it was amazing how instantly and totally quiet it was. Jumping out of the jeep, I reopened the half-empty bottle. Brushing away some leaves from a comparatively clean picnic table, I stepped on the seat to sit on top.

"Don't you just love that smell?" I inhaled deep, before taking another shot of scotch.

Lying down on the tabletop, I stared up past the diffused sunlight, through a myriad of tree limbs. "I like the way you smell," Bill said, standing at the end of the table near my head.

I refocused on his upside-down face above me. "Thanks," I replied, and reached up to rub his arms. Raising and bending one knee, I felt my skirt tumble down, as I continued to rub. "Does it hurt?" I whispered, referring to his injured arm still in its sling.

"No. I took my medication; mighty good pain killer," he smiled and lowered his face closer to mine.

Turning my face to line my lips up with his, I parted them. Slowly closing my eyes, I awaited his lips on mine. I waited. I waited longer, and then felt his arms backing away from my touch. "Something I said... bad breath or what?" I opened my eyes.

"No, you are one sexy woman. I just really enjoy watching you," he stated again, backing away and adjusting his crotch.

"Hmm, so you like to be teased, is that it?" I asked, feeling my pussy twinge.

"Yes, something like that," the straight-laced professor said, unzipping the fly on his dark slacks.

"I can do teasing; pretty good at it actually," I simmered, bringing myself up to swivel around on the table.

Lowering my head, I struck a seductive pose, and slowly pulled my skirt up. He dug in his pants and pulled out a sizable boner, as I lowered my elastic tube top. Keeping my legs together, I bent them. Shifting his focus from my naked chest to my legs, I knelt on the table. Watching the reserved teacher blatantly stroking his emerging erection, I rose up on my knees. Holding my skirt up with one hand, my other went straight to my naked wet pussy. Grabbing my boob, while my other hand worked faster on my blonde bush, I shook my hair back.

"Oh yeah, you ARE one very sexy female!" He declared, and hard-stroked his full erection.

"A sexy female that needs a nice big cock in her pussy," I amended his sentence.

Shaking my pendulous boobs from side to side, my hand gripped my skirt. Yanking up a good chunk of fabric, I needed for him to see my index and third fingers probing my dampness.

"God DAMN Bill! Can't you see how fucking warm, and wet, and ready I am for you?" I pleaded.

I wanted--needed this no touch scenario of his to fail, but the sign of precum coating his cockhead told me otherwise.

"Come on Baby! Come on my face! Come in my pussy! Won't you do me NOW?"

When he took a few steps toward me, I thought sure he would lay me out, pick one of my options, and drill me. Our eyes fixed on each other with a singular lust for each other. However, instead of coming closer, he glanced at the jeep, and started edging toward it. Holding my drenched hand in place, I got down from the table. Keeping a safe distance from him, I watched his eyes motion me toward the jeep.

In a slow, unemotional, directorial voice, he said, "I want you to fuck yourself for me."

"I am Baby; just tell me what you want..." My body trembled with wanton lust.

He said nothing, merely stared at the front seat of the jeep, then back at me. My eyes trained on his, as his focus settled on the object of his desire. It was becoming clear to me what he wanted. Stepping into the front seat, I stretched my leg across the middle of the jeep to straddle the floor gearshift knob. I tucked the hem of my skirt into the waist, and spread my super-greased labia with both hands. Feeling the thick, rounded, smooth knob on my pussy, I shifted my gaze quickly to his grinning face.

"That's it Baby! Now, fuck yourself!" He insisted, pumping his hardon to the brink of ejaculation.

My ass ground against the dashboard, as I gently worked my slick labia up and down. More and more of the knob disappeared into my hole, until I felt it brush against my clit. However crude and sick this scene was playing out soon evaporated, and was replaced with a full-out erotic feeling of necessity. Whether or not the professor got his rocks off, this horny gal was going to satisfy herself the best she could.

Using my fingers to peel back my labia, I started riding that fucking gearshift like a nymphomaniac on a day pass. God, I needed to be fucked; moreover, I needed to come! Grunts and moans filled the quiet, leafy, picnic area, as the two of us got off on mutual knob-jobs. Throwing my head back, after a constant series of well-placed thrusts, I grabbed hold of my swinging jugs. Letting an orgasmic wave sweep through me, I watched Bill empty his load.

He caught a fair amount of his white, creamy cum in his left hand. When he extended his saturated hand toward me, I leaned down to taste his fresh juice. Instead of letting me lick, he wrapped his entire cum-covered hand around my face. Nearly every inch of my face was covered in his wet, sticky deposit. My first true voyeur had just anointed me; the eroticism of the moment nearly took my breath away.

"God damn, I need to be fucked, Professor!" I reissued my intentions.

"I can see that. How about you drop me off at home. I'll make sure you get fucked," he promised, while he tucked away his goodies.

Disengaging myself from the gearshift, I smoothed down my skirt, pulled up my tube top, and impatiently restarted the jeep. "But your wife, what will she..."

"Let me worry about Cassandra." He stated emphatically as we sped down the rural highway.

**************

Sandy's Special Brew

Feeling Bill's starchy cum drying on my face, the pungent odor filled my senses. I couldn't recall ever being so openly wicked or more aroused. He finally directed me where to turn off onto a gravel road. The sun made a slow retreat over the rolling western hills, when we pulled up to a conservative two-story farmhouse. Pulling the white shirt over my tube top, I grabbed my purse, and strode a few feet behind him to the house.

Once inside the recently updated home, Bill continued down a hall. I followed sharply behind, taking in modern pictures hanging on deep colored walls. "There must be a bathroom around here somewhere," I thought, needing to clean up, in case we ran into his wife.

By the time I saw what appeared to be a restroom, we were greeted in the kitchen. "Well there you are. I was wondering what was keeping you," a shorthaired, petite brunette said, before shooting me an extensive stare. I finger-combed my wind-blown locks, as I focused my attention on her, and then to her husband.

"This is Barbara. Barbara, this is Cassandra, my wife," he offered unemotionally.

"Hi, call me Sandy," she said, offering me her tiny hand with a half-smile.

"Hi, I'm Barb--I mean, you can call me Barb," I returned her semi-smile with a nervous one of my own.

"Barbara is the student I told you about. She was kind enough to give me a ride home." Professor Grant said, taking a bar stool from the granite countertop.

"Very nice. I mean, that was nice of you to go out of your way, and everything," she added, releasing her hand from mine.

She immediately wet to the refrigerator. Pulling a tall sleek pitcher filled with what appeared to be tea, she methodically went to the cupboard for glassware.

"Oh, it was hardly out of my way." I said. "God, is this ever awkward," I thought, nervously fiddling with my purse.

The short, maybe 5-foot tall, woman, probably in her mid-forties, went calmly about icing and pouring three tall glasses of tea. I looked plaintively at Bill for some sign of what to do next. Suddenly cold, he wouldn't return my stares. Taking his glass, he got up and walked past us, heading back down the hall.

"I'll be back in a bit." He mumbled.

Now I really felt like getting the hell out of there. Flat-chested Sandy in her short, one-piece sleeveless sundress reached into another cupboard for something, as I patiently, fretfully watched.

"Please... have a seat, Barb, and relax, for God's sake."

"Thanks, but I really should be going. My husband will be wondering..."

"Oh come now. I insist. At least finish your tea." She instructed, flashing a more welcoming smile this time.

"O-okay, thanks," I relented, took a stool and gazed into the tall amber glass before me.

"So, you're married?" She started, now seated across from me at the counter.

"Yes. Donny and I have been married over 30 years," I admitted, taking a drink of tea. "Hmm, this is good--an herbal tea?"

"Yeah, raspberry or some shit," She shot back, clearly not interested in discussing tea. "You're older then? I mean you're not OLD, just... being married so long..."

"Yeah, I guess so, why do you ask?" Taking a longer drink.

"Bill must really like you, I mean for him to let you take him..."

"I'm sorry. Am I missing something here?" I asked, confused by the direction of the conversation.

Taking another drink, I suddenly felt flushed yet warm at the same time. Sandra must have thought I was passing out or having a fit, when she bounced off her chair. Coming around the island counter, she put her little hand to my cheek.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you Barb. Here, have another drink," she pampered me, as I finished the glass.

"I'm okay, thanks," I said, now feeling somewhat nauseous.

"I don't think so. You look a bit flushed. Maybe you should lie down," Sandy said, cupping my face in her hands.

Her comforting touch and manner was unexpectedly soothing. As cold and unfeeling as she first came off, I was now forming a different opinion of the petite wife and her short, short black hair. When she helped me off the stool, I felt lightheaded. Leading me into a large family room, she helped me down to a leather couch. Looking around and trying to regain my focus in the spinning room, my eyes locked on her short, well-toned legs, and perfect derrière.

I recalled thinking the combination of booze with no food must have done me in. It never occurred to me that the tea might have had something to do with my shaky condition. For some reason, even in my altered state, my senses were perfectly tuned to my strange, surprise hostess. When she came back with another full glass of tea, and sat on the edge of the couch, I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

"I don't know what's come over me. Maybe I should call my husband," I said, gazing into her large dark eyes.

"Nonsense, you just had a little spell. I'll bet you'll feel just fine soon," she said, gently running her fingers under the open collar of my shirt. Dark penetrating eyes held my attention, as her fingers nimbly undid my shirt buttons. When I glanced down, her hand lifted my chin back up to divert my eyes back to hers.

"That's a pretty top. I love the color," she smiled, rimming the crest of my tube top.

"Thanks; that's a darling dress. Did you get that in town?" What a stupid reply. Making casual conversation with total strangers has never been my forte.

"Why thanks. No, I think I picked this one up in Chicago."

"So, you're from Chicago?" I asked, locked on her eyes, as her hand brushed over my hardening nipples.

"Not really. I've lived in many different places, until I married Bill," she added, lowering her face closer to mine. Her short fingers softly yet firmly gripped the elastic ribbing of my top. "How can you possibly breathe in such tight elastic?" She asked, letting her tongue sweep across her lower lip.

"Guess I never thought about it until now," I said, feeling a shudder race through me.

"You know, I won't be embarrassed, if you need more room to breathe," she whispered, closing in on me.

My hand resting at my side inadvertently moved to slide against her leg. I giggled timidly, as she brought both her hands up to pull down my top. My other hand subconsciously reached to cover my chest. She was bent over so far, I felt helplessly surrounded. Besides, her sweet perfume enveloped me. "There now, isn't that better?" She leaned back, giving me a short reprieve.

"Oh my, no wonder Bill picked you; what a great set of tits!"

"Bill picked me?" I grimaced, as the professor's wife started fondling my melons.

"Yes Dear, and I didn't even have to ask. I knew it!" She teased.

"How? How can you tell such a thing?" My breath shortened, as her grasp on my boobs tightened.

"Here, I'll show you," she said, and lowered her face to mine again. This time, she kissed my cheek. Her tender lips opened. Feeling her tongue licking my cheek, I felt uncommonly warm between my thighs. When she had licked both my cheeks, her mouth found mine. Closing my eyes, my mouth automatically opened to accept her tongue. That's when I tasted the unmistakable remnants of her husband's cum. I knew immediately the professor's anointing was meant to mark me for his wife.

"Oh God! He said he would get me fucked..."

"As soon as you dropped him off, right?" She completed my sentence, then ran her hand up under my skirt. "And, you actually thought a certifiable voyeur was going to actually fuck you?"

"I-I don't know. I only wanted..." I stuttered, while her hand inched its way over the crest of my nylons and up my thighs.

"You wanted to be fucked. You NEEDED to be fucked," Sandra stated, like she must have said how many times to how many unsuspecting females.

"Yes, YES! I needed to be fucked!" I yelled as the palm of her dainty hand circled my furry mons.

"You still need it Baby, don't you? Don't you!" She repeated, rimming my wet hole with three of her fingers.

My entire body heaved and fell at her touch. Glaring into her dark devilish eyes, I tried shaking away from the unnatural idea of letting her screw me. This only heightened her passion for me. First tonguing, then biting my earlobe, her harsh whispers of every conceivable filthy word and expression filled my brain. The subdued part of me seemed to vaporize, as an insatiable erotic other-self took over. Spreading my legs to the max, my hand raced between my lower lips to pamper my clit. Sensing her drenched fingers gathering into a 'V', I gripped her wrist, and then her lower arm.

The size of her arm was hardly any longer or wider than several larger cocks I've taken in the past. At least that was my warped rationale, as I pulled her arm to penetrate my vagina. "Yes, oh GOD YES!" My eyes pleaded, feeling her entire hand fill my pussy. I was a mass of wanton sensations, while I pulled more of her tiny hand inside. Hoisting my tan-marked pelvis higher, I watched with labored breaths. This was no gyno-exam. This was no puny gearshift knob. This was the fucking I craved. Grabbing hold of my tits, I let her control things down below.

The slightest twists of her wrist sent severe shock waves through me, which left me begging for more. Shaking my head wildly, I urged her on. "OH GOD, just fuck me-- FUCK MEE!" She eagerly complied, shoving her entire forearm in my cunt. Then, like a well-oiled piston, her arm became my pseudo-cock. Writhing in the hideous, erotic joy of it, I rode her faster and faster. After several minutes, I was coming on all cylinders, and still begging for more.