Extracurricular Activities 

                              by

                         C. Lakewood

 

    Naked and blindfolded and spreadeagled on my back, I pulled 
tentatively at the soft clothesline rope that bound me to the four 
reinforced corners of our backyard sandbox.  I was in the shade, 
thanks to the big awning overhead, but it was still damned hot and 
humid.  I was sweating, and that always seems to attract various 
insects to torment me.  My husband, Matt, had left me this way, 
late on a July morning, while he went off to work on the latest 
problem afflicting his company's cranky old main-frame.  

    Outwardly, I'm an upright -- some would say "uptight" -- 
32-year-old junior high teacher and vice-principal.  As the former, 
I teach a few math classes; as the latter, I'm responsible for 
imposing and carrying out the various punishments for violations 
of school rules.  And there just seemed to be an endless stream of 
them these days -- many of the white kids were so undisciplined, 
most of the Hispanics worse, and almost all of the blacks worst 
of all.  

    Matt and I have been married going on seven years, and we've 
been playing around with bondage and discipline for a while.  It 
really suits us both.  As a computer troubleshooter, Matt is 
on-call a lot and is generally on everybody's shit-list at work.  
It's a wonderful change, then, for him to be a Dom at home.  I, on 
the other hand, get awfully tired of having to be so authoritarian 
and in-control at school, and do enjoy assuming the sub role in our 
private little world here.   
   
    He frequently leaves me in some kinky predicament while he 
answers a call -- for example, bound straddling a Sybian that's 
timed to go on and off at intervals.  And one of our favorite 
games is the "staked-out-naked-in-the-backyard" scenario.  He'll 
peg me out in the sandbox and tease me a bit.  Then he'll go away 
for two or three hours.  When he finally gets back home, he'll 
often pretend to be a meter reader, paper boy, yard man, or even 
a hobo -- somebody who then takes advantage of the situation.  

    I think Matt really gets off on the notion of my being alone 
and bound and helpless, naked and vulnerable to any chance 
passerby.

    And I would be worth taking advantage of, I think.  My body is 
not exactly spectacular, but is firm and well-proportioned.  My 
breasts are somewhat smallish, but haven't started to sag yet, and 
my nipples are long and very sensitive.  With my dark, curly hair 
and firm jaw, I've been told I resemble Minnie Driver. 

    Staked out like this, I am often afraid of being discovered.  
But that fear is a big part of the thrill.  Intellectually, I 
know that I run virtually no risk -- the shape of our house and 
its secluded location, the awning, and the tall privacy fence all 
combine to make discovery highly unlikely.  But the fear is still 
there, and it makes my pussy drool.  I'm especially skittish when 
I hear people walking down the alley behind our house, just beyond 
the fence. 
 
    Today, as I often did, I eventually drifted off into a fitful 
doze.  I'm not sure whether it was an actual dream or a really 
vivid daydream, but it was a familiar scenario -- the one in which 
I'm gang-banged...and "forced" to beg for more....  Hot fingers 
all over me, tweaking and tickling, mouths suckling my stiff 
nipples and my desperate, engorged clit....  

    Then I woke up.  It was no dream.

    Matt must be back, and he was playing me like a keyboard, 
driving me closer and closer to a monster cum.  

    I was just going over the edge, when I experienced a split 
second of clarity.  Oh, god...oh, Jesus H. Christ....  There 
were at least eight hands toying with me -- and two or three 
mouths -- playing with my tits, belly, cunt, ass, thighs...even 
my feet....  I was staked out and helpless, and there were four 
or more people groping me.  And I had no idea who.

    The orgasm hit me like an 8-point quake. 

    As I lay there gasping, several realizations began to seep 
into my orgasm-befogged brain, and I managed (barely) to keep 
from screaming for help.  First, omigod, I WAS being gang-banged, 
for real.  Second, Matt couldn't have set this up.  (As much as 
he liked to fantasize about my being fucked by other men, he was 
much too jealous even to consider such a thing in real life.)  
Third, squirming and pulling at the ropes quickly proved 
completely futile.  I heard muffled laughter.

    "Please," I said.

    One of them leaned close to me.  I choked on his 
beer-and-garlic breath.  

    "Shhhh," he murmured.  "We ain't gonna do nothin' you ain't 
never had b'fore.  So you jes' behave yo'sef, an' you be okay."  
He sounded black.  

    They were concentrating on my pussy now, on the labia and the 
clitoris, but mainly on the hole proper.  Despite the fact that I 
was already running with juice, one of them hawked and spit a glob 
of saliva directly into my cunt.  

    Asshole.

    I felt a thick, blunt finger insinuate itself into me, then 
another.  And he began to finger-fuck me.  He wasn't really 
skillful at it, but...oh, god!...it felt as though he were 
working two sausages in and out of me.  I was being stretched 
far beyond what Matt had ever done to me.  I was disoriented, 
confused, ecstatic.  

    He obviously liked what he was doing, because it was some time 
before he pulled his fingers all the way out and moved up into the 
missionary position, pressing his hard young body against me.  
There was considerable fumbling before he finally got his prick 
into me.  It was average-sized, I guess, and felt about the same 
size as Matt's.  The guy immediately began pumping in and out, 
unimaginatively, never varying the angle of his stroke, but 
gradually picking up speed.   

    I'm not sure how long he he lasted, but it wasn't long at all.  
Very soon, I heard him groan and felt his prick jerking inside me, 
again and again and again.  He collapsed onto me and gasped, "Oh, 
man!  This white bitch's sure got one fine cunt."    

    "Shut the fuck up, nigger," one of the others said.  "We all's 
waitin'."

    They WERE blacks!  Oh, god!  I'd suspected it, but hoped I was 
wrong.  They were supposed to be super-potent, too, and Matt'd 
gotten a vasectomy, so I wasn't on the Pill.  I really didn't want 
to get pregnant at all, and certainly not with a black baby.  I 
started to struggle with the ropes again, but all my squirming 
around succeeded only in getting sand up my ass-crack.  

    Another boy took his place on top of me, saying, "You ain't 
goin' nowheres, Miz Wallace.  We gon' fuck y'all real good...give 
y'all suthin' t'member us by.  Then we be leavin'.  Y'all don' 
give us no trouble, we won't do nuthin' else."

    Then his long, slender cock slithered into me, and he was off 
on his own bareback ride.  He lasted longer than the first fucker, 
but still not very long.  It was a wild, hot, animalistic fuck, 
however, and, though I tried not to enjoy it, I must admit that I 
did....  
 
    When this second boy had shot off and pulled out, a third one 
wasted no time in taking his place.  He had a bigger cock than the 
others.  He was also heavier, and I don't know whether he had more 
know-how or was just out of condition, because he made the fuck 
last a long time by continually starting and stopping.  He made me 
cum three times.

    I was tired now and just wanted to rest, when a fourth boy 
climbed on me and started humping away.  When he finished, the 
first kid was ready to have another ride...and after him, the 
second boy -- the one with the long, skinny cock.  (And, God 
help me, I wondered for a moment what it might feel like if he 
butt-fucked me with it.) 

    He took a lot longer this time.  While he was pounding away, 
I felt someone straddle my head.  It was Big Boy.  And, omigod, I 
licked my lips!  Then I licked his balls and sucked his cock and 
swallowed down his creamy cum.  He grunted and rolled off me -- 
and the other kid just kept right on fucking. 

    By the time he'd finished porking me, I was physically drained. 
(But it had finally occurred to me that earlier he'd called me 
"Miz Wallace": my maiden name.  So he must have known me from 
school -- oh, god! -- but seven or more years ago....  Therefore, 
he had to be at least 18.  Now why did I find that comforting...and 
a little disappointing?

    He patted my cheek, as he heaved himself off me, and said, 
sweetly, "Thanks, teach.  Y'all's a real fine fuck, an' we be 
sure t'see y'all again...soon."

    I may have dozed off again for a bit, because, the next thing 
I knew, a car was pulling into the drive, and then I heard Matt's 
familiar footsteps.  How could I tell him what had happened to me? 

    "Well, I'm back, finally," he said.  "And you just will not 
believe what all happened."

    ("Join the club," I thought.) 

    He pulled my blindfold up, and I blinked in the sudden light.  

    "And all the while I've been thinking about getting back to 
some 'home cooking,' sweetheart," he whispered.

    I made a few meaningless noises as he quickly stripped and 
mounted me, apparently too tired and horny to role-play this time.

    "Oh geez, babe...you're really juicy!"

    He was going to get some "home cooking," alright, but it was 
all leftovers.  

    I managed to cum twice more before he finished.  Then he untied 
me.  I was considering what I should do.  Would anyone believe that 
four boys -- almost certainly black (yeah, aren't they all?) -- had 
climbed the fence and raped me?  I hadn't gotten even a glimpse of 
any of them and couldn't identify a single one.  Maybe there'd be 
DNA evidence, maybe...but maybe not.  And if I did try to report it 
to the police, I'd also have to explain in detail about the bondage 
and all....  And, besides, who knows how Matt would react? 

    I glanced at his watch -- a few minutes past 2 o'clock.  I'd 
been fucked seven times in barely three hours.   

    I decided that, if I didn't get pregnant, I'd just keep my 
mouth shut.  This was not a particularly fertile time for me, and, 
anyway, there was still time to get out to that anonymous free 
clinic on the West Side and pick up a "morning-after" pill.  I 
brushed the sand off my sweaty body, flung on a t-shirt, shorts, 
and sandals, yelled at Matt (who was already in the shower) that 
I'd go get some Chinese take-out, snatched up my keys and some 
money, and hit the road.  

    It was after 4 by the time I got back with the Hunan pork, 
pea-pods-and-beef, Happy Family, spring rolls, fried rice, crab 
rangoon, four cold Foster's (and, of course, a supply of RU486 
pills).  Matt was taking a nap.

    I thought about showering, but I sort of liked feeling grubby 
(it seemed appropriate), and, besides, I was ravenous.  So I woke 
Matt, and we stuffed ourselves with Chinese washed down with good 
Aussie beer.  Afterwards, we fucked again, and, later, yet again, 
before turning in early...both of us completely worn out.  

    Matt began snoring immediately.  And I was even more exhausted, 
but I just couldn't get to sleep; I was still too wound up.  
Finally, I had to ease out of bed and sneak off to the bathroom.  
I locked myself in, lay on the floor, and mentally re-played my 
adventure with the boys, trying to imagine what they'd looked 
like...or what I wanted them to have looked like.  I masturbated 
for ages, concentrating on my clit, only occasionally slipping a 
finger into my cunt-hole (still sticky from the nine loads of cum 
that had been fucked into me) to torment my swollen G-spot.  All 
the while, I imagined THEM standing standing over me whilst I 
played with myself.  They were telling me what to do, how to do 
it...and then berating me for being such a bad girl, so shameless.  
This orgasm was the most powerful yet, crippling in its intensity.

    After I recovered (it took some time), I went back to bed.  
Sleep came quickly, this time.  And the last thing I remembered 
was the parting shot from one of my young black lovers: "Thanks, 
teach.  Y'all's a real fine fuck, an' we be sure t'see y'all 
again...soon."

    Maybe next time Matt can stake me out face down....