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 ï>¿Summer byTheTykeÂ(C)

   Summer Ch.  14 Gwen's Story 2

   Gwen walked home in a daze.  She could not believe what had just
happened her, what she had just done.  Her wet shirt clung to her breasts
and her sex was aching.  She could still feel his hands on her, his fingers
inside her.  She wanted to scream.

   When she arrived home she had slipped quietly into the house and gone
straight up to her bedroom.  She sat for a while on the edge of the bed,
her legs shaking and her heart racing, reliving what had happened, playing
it over again and again in her head.  She couldn't figure out how she felt
about it; she had no perspective, her world had just moved on its axis and
she was not sure which was now up.  She was still caught up in the wild and
heady excitement and emotion of the experience.  One minute she would burst
out crying and the next she wanted to leap up and shout at the ceiling with
pure joy and excitement.  She was spinning like a top.

   Pushing herself up off the bed she had finally stripped off her clothes
and looked at herself in the full length wardrobe mirror.  She was amazed
that her nipples were still erect, red and distended and she could still
see the marks of Mr Keitel's teeth and fingers on her breasts, fading now
but still visible.  She had touched the fading marks with her fingertips
sending warning shivers of memories down through her vibrating body. 
Without heeding the warning she had slipped her hands down between her legs
to cup and feel her pubic hairs, coated in her own juices, now hard and
matted around the soft, aching, fullness of her still tingling sex.

   Her fingers had inevitably pushed between the soft, moist lips of her
sex, unconsciously searching for the knowledge and relief that she knew was
to be found there.  The jolt of sexual excitement from her fingers that had
raced through her sex was positively electric and she had rocked back in
surprise.  She was still incredibly turned on.  As if in a slow running
film she had moved back across the room, throwing herself onto the bed and
rolling over into the foetal position.  She hugged herself and tried not to
touch herself as she rocked slowly backwards and forwards, trying to make
sense of what had happened to her back in the school darkroom and trying to
make sense of what she was feeling now.

   She tried to remember it all and as she remembered her hand once again
crept unbidden between her legs, touching where he had touched her and
suddenly she was cuming again.  Her orgasm was intense and crashed over her
leaving her dazed and breathless.  She felt as if she was on fire, charged
with some kind of a wild sexual energy; she had just wanted to keep cuming
and cuming.

   As the light faded in her room her fingers had fallen from between her
legs.  She did not know how many times she had taken herself to climax but
she had masturbated herself almost to the point of exhaustion.  Her sex
felt raw and swollen, her lips bruised and sore.  She rolled over on to her
back and in the gathering gloom she stared at the ceiling, a post coital
tranquillity finally seeping over her, calming her, cooling her madness.

   She had slowly got up and stared at herself again in the mirror,
tentatively, exploratory; as if expecting to see a different person looking
back at her in the half light, someone who was certainly more sexually
mature, more worldly that she had been this morning and she was strangely
disappointed to find only herself staring back at her.  She examined her
body and her breasts in the fading light and was again disappointed to find
that the traces of this morning's handling had faded and were now more just
memories rather than real marks.  Her badges of sexual maturity were
fading.

   Noises from downstairs had slowly, finally, intruded and she realised
that her parents were about, her father home from work and her mother
getting tea and she gathered up her still damp clothes and headed slowly
off to the bathroom to run a bath.

   The next morning she had awoken at first light and had had to force
herself to stay in bed and wait until she could hear her parents moving
around and knew that it was safe to get up without attracting attention to
herself.  She had lain there through the early hours, waiting impatiently,
her hand slowly working its way inside her pyjama bottoms and down between
her legs, her fingers slyly touching her sex, opening herself up to the new
day and her first climax.  Her fingers would not leave her alone and
continued to stroke and manipulate her through climax after climax until
she had to stuff her mouth with blankets to stop herself from crying out.

   Her mother, passing by her door on her way downstairs had paused,
disturbed by the muffled noises from her daughters room and had called out
softly enquiring if everything was alright.  Gwen had never heard, lost in
her own world of flashing lights moving fingers and never saw her mother,
suddenly blushing furiously as she recognised the sexual message carried
blatantly in the her daughters sighs, move away from the door and slowly
walk away, suddenly looking younger, smiling, her own head suddenly full of
the memories of when she herself had moaned like that.

   When the masturbation spree had ended and her fingers finally simply
rested between her legs Gwen lay and looked up the new day.  Noises from
downstairs told her mother at least was up and she vaguely wondered why she
hadn't called her as she usually did.  She dismissed the thought and rolled
over in blissful ignorance, her fingers reluctantly leaving her sex, she
would have been horrified had she known of her mother's breathless pause
outside her door.

   Despite the need to get up and get to school she lay there for a long
time telling herself that he would not be there today and that yesterday
was a 'one off' and would never be repeated.  Telling herself that she was
behaving like a slut and to 'get a grip' she pushed herself out of bed. 
She dressed carefully for him in her best t-shirt and her best 'Sunday
outing' shorts.  She felt they were a bit old fashioned, baggy legs and
semi elasticated waist with buttons down the front but they were the
smartest summer outfit she could muster.  She laid the outfit out on the
bed and stared at it, eventually trying the shorts on and looking
disapprovingly at herself in the mirror.

   She eventually discarded the shorts in favour of the same style short
gym skirt she had worn when 'it' had happened the day before.  She thought
furtively that if he had fancied her in it before maybe he would fancy her
in it again, before quickly coving the thought with the lie that it was
probably the best outfit if they were to work in the hot confines of the
darkroom again.  She lied convincingly to herself although she recognised
that she could not look herself in the eye as she thought it.  She sat on
the edge of the bed as she brushed her thick auburn hair.  He sex tingled
and she had to resist the urge to touch herself again.

   When she was ready she stood and looked at herself in the mirror.  She
nodded almost knowingly at the young woman who stared back.  'Not too bad'
she thought and then stopped and on impulse she stripped off her t-shirt
and then her bra.  She pulled her t-shirt back over her head and looked at
her reflection; her breasts were clearly visible beneath her thin cotton
top and after a moment's hesitation her nerve failed her and she pulled the
top off again and put the bra back on.  Staring at herself in the mirror
she hesitated for a moment before she pulled the bra and top off again. 
Standing erect she admired her breasts in reflection wondering what he had
seen in them that had so turned him on.  She idly wondered if her breasts
were somehow special and she hadn't known it before.

   She placed a hand under each breast, pushing them up and out although
there was almost no movement in the firm young flesh.  She touched her
sleeping roseate nipples as she half turned her body to the light. 
Sensitive beyond belief they were immediately erect.  In her mind's eye she
could see his hands on her body and her sex grew instantly moist.  The urge
to masturbate was suddenly fiercely strong and she had to press her legs
together until the feeling passed.

   Resting her head against the coolness of the wardrobe mirror she took
deep breaths until she slowly regained her composure.  She shook her head,
she must stop thinking about sex, she must get some control back, she was
acting like a nymphomaniac.  She stepped back and pulled her bra on,
reaching behind her firmly to fasten the clasp.  She looked at herself and
settled her breasts into the cups before pulling her T-shirt back on again.
She looked at herself in the mirror and told herself firmly that she was
being foolish and what had happened yesterday was a mistake and she could
never allow it to happen again; even if he is there, she repeated to
herself sternly, it must never happen again.

   She had breakfast in the kitchen, fending off the usual questions about
what she was going to do that day and what she had done yesterday.  She
told them she would be going to school again to see in Mt Keitel needed any
help with the next batch of prints.  "Think you must have a crush on him
the amount of time you two spend together in that darkroom" her father said
from behind his paper.  She didn't see the amused glances her parents
exchanged when she had looked down, blushing darkroom red, while denying
him furiously.  He mother had looked at her strangely she thought, somehow
knowingly although kindly and she had looked away embarrassed at the
frankness she had found in her eyes.  Her mother had gently touched her
father hand which held the paper and had blushed herself when her husband
had raised a quizzical eyebrow in response.

   She had hung around after breakfast for as long as she felt she must
before making her goodbyes and slipping out of the back door.  She tried
not to run but her feet felt light and she covered the distance to the
school in no time at all.  Her heart fell when there was no sign of his car
in the staff car park.  As her let her into the school through the small
side door near the science labs the caretaker had said that he hadn't seen
him that morning.  "Didn't mean much though," he conceded as he walked
away, "could have let himself in with his own key." But the science lab was
empty when she got there, looking exactly as they had left it the day
before.

   She half heartedly tidied some loose prints on the desk near the
darkroom, disappointment gripping her chest and for a while she fought the
urge to cry.  She tried the door to the darkroom and it swung open a
fraction and she immediately closed it again; lacking the courage on her
own to go in there where 'it' had happened.  She turned around and leaned
against the door, kicking it with her heel in frustration.  Feeling foolish
she hung around the classroom for a while trying to look busy but
eventually she gave up and made her slow and heavy way home.

   The next day was a repeat of the same process and she began to despair;
he was obviously not coming back.  A whole range of possibilities/fantasies
ran through her head: That he had had an accident and was lying critically
ill in hospital somewhere, uncared for and alone; That he had simply up and
left and that it would force some kind of inquest at the school and what
had happened in the darkroom would all come out and everyone would know and
her would will be ruined; all the way through to that he had fallen in love
with her and dare not face her because of some problem in his past that she
does not know about.  She ran the whole gamut of childish, romantic,
scenarios through her head in turn as she waited.

   The next day she turned up more out of routine than in hope of finding
him there.  She had already decided that she would steel herself and go
into the darkroom and at least finish sorting out the prints that would by
now have dried and be ready for labelling and cataloguing.  She opened the
door to the classroom and her stomach gave a sudden lurch when she suddenly
saw him standing at one of the long rows of science lab benches sorting
through large piles of prints.  He smiled at her, obviously pleased to see
her.

   "Glad you turned up I could use some help," he said holding up some
loose prints as a means of explanation, "still a lot to finish off." She
hesitated in the doorway, taken by surprise and now unsure in the face of
reality.  She sees he is dressed for the darkroom again in shorts and an
old t-shirt.  He looked up at her quizzically.  "Are you here to help or
what?" he joked and pushed a pile of prints across the desk in her
direction.

   Gathering her courage she hesitantly walked down the length of the
classroom and stood beside him.  She looked sideways at him, unsure and
nervous but her looked up and smiled again, putting her at her ease and she
pulled the pile of prints across the desk towards her.  Leafing through the
first few prints she noticed that her hands were trembling.  He looked
sideways at her, pretending not to notice.

   "Someone has already sorted them," he said quietly and she nodded.

   "I came in yesterday and finished them off," she said, trying to control
her voice.

   He tapped a stack of prints by their edge on the top of the desk,
straightening them, "I know," he said placing them back on the desk, lining
the stacks up with the tip of his finger, "and the day before that as well.
Johnstone the caretaker told me." She nodded, suddenly embarrassed as if
caught out in a lie.  "Wondered where I'd got to?" he asked and she
shrugged.  "I'm sorry Gwen," he said and reached across and took one of her
hands in his, "you deserved better than that."

   She shook her head, aware that must be able to hear her heart thudding
in her chest.  He turned her hand over and pulled it closer to him, palm
up. She could feel the warmth of his body through her fingertips and he
stroked her palm and mound of Venus with his thumb as he spoke, "I'm sorry,
I had to get things straight in my head," he said.  "I needed a little time
..  after what happened in there," indicating the darkroom behind her.  She
looked hesitantly over her shoulder as if unsure of what he meant.  He
ploughed on, all the time his thumb stroking the sensitive palm of her
hand, sending ripples of pleasure through her body.  "I am a schoolteacher
after all, I should know how to control myself, it should never have
happened." She nodded vaguely , his words drifting away.  "And it won't
happen again," he said and she looked up into his eyes, "will it?" he said
with a finality that made her feel cold.

   She shook her head, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. 
"Good," he said releasing her hand, "a professional relationship if we can
then," he said with a heartiness that crushed her.  "Think we can manage
that?" He asked and she nodded, and she shivered slightly as if a winter
chill had stolen into the room.  "Good," he said again, his bonhomie harsh
and galling in the stillness that had fallen between them, "are you OK with
helping me still or do you want me find someone else to help finish off?"

   "I'm fine," she said, feeling herself move slowly towards tears.  "I
really do want to help get this done."

   "Great," he said, adding after a slight pause, "even in the darkroom?"

   She looked over her shoulder again at the offending room and nodded. 
"I'm fine," she said, "honestly, I can handle it."

   "Great," he said, almost distractedly.  "Let's get on with it then."

   He led the way, ushering her before him.  Once inside he locked the door
before pulling the heavy blackout curtain across and turning on the
exterior 'Darkroom Occupied' sign and switched on the red developing
light.. As always it took her a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the
deep velvet red lighting.  When she looked up he was staring back at her
smiling, just standing there looking at her.  She half smiled back at him
and looked sideways as if expecting him to say something.  He stepped
across the short gap between them and this time there were no
preliminaries.

   Without any preamble he gathered her up into his arms, bending her back
over the workbench.  She cried out in surprise but his mouth stifled her
protests.  He kissed her long and hard, his tongue deep in her mouth, the
kiss continuing until she was gasping for breath.  In one movement he
placed her arm behind her back and held it there, his free hand moving up,
under her blouse to take possession of her breast.  He pulled her bra up
and his fingers closed on her nipple, pulling it taut, squeezing the breath
from her body.  She cried out as his hand gripped her breast, squeezing and
moulding it until her senses reeled, all the while his kisses, deep and
devouring kept her silent and dazed.

   Suddenly his hand was on her thigh, travelling upwards, taking her skirt
with it, exposing her, laying her open.  For an instant he dipped between
her legs and cupped her sex and she called out at the sudden warmth and
pressure from his fingers but his hand had already gone, moving on and up
in its quest for even more intimacy.  He tugged at the waistband of her
knickers, drawing them down to allow his hand inside.  His hand slid down
across her taut, flat stomach, grazing quickly across her soft red pubic
hair before pushing its way down between her legs, finding and touching her
sex, briefly exploring the soft folds of her lips, orientating himself,
feeling her wetness before opening her up.

   She tried to open her legs to give him access but she struggled to keep
her balance as he held her prone across the worktop.  He pressed the heel
of his hand hard against the front of her pubic bone and she gasped as he
curled his palm down over her sex, his fingers slipping between her lips,
travelling through her wetness, searching for and quickly finding her
already erect clitoris, instantly stroking wild sensations up from her
groin to explode behind her eyes.  She cried out, she knew she would come
in seconds; she has been ready to come for him for three days.  His fingers
pushed deeper into her and her legs began to tremble; she tried to stretch
her legs apart to let him in.  She could feel her juices beginning to seep
down around his probing hand into the clean white material of her knickers
and she was suddenly past caring about anything, she was about to cum; he
was manipulating her masterfully yet again and she was happily, completely
under his control; willing to be led wherever he would take her.

   His fingers played softly, knowingly and insistently between her lips
and she came quickly, her thighs squeezing together, trying to hold and
contain the hand that was wreaking havoc with her senses and destroying her
self control; but the fingers continued to move, causing her to cry out and
to try to curl up around his hand as the waves of her climax continued to
shake her.

   Releasing the hand that he had been holding behind her he turned her
around sideways to him.  He kept the one hand down the front of her
knickers, sliding the other down inside the back to find and mould itself
to the shape of her bottom.  He was manipulating her like a puppet, moving
her to his will, his hands insistent and determined, his fingers hard,
needy and softly resolute, pushing down between her legs, invading and
overrunning her soft, warm, secret places.  His eyes glinted hotly in the
darkroom light, giving him the devilish appearance she had seen before, red
skin and flashing red eyes.  His breath sounded harsh in her ears.

   With one hand he probed and caressed her wet and open sex while with the
other he opened the cheeks of her arse, running his fingers between then,
intimately caressing the soft brown rosebud that puckered at his touch. 
Sweat suddenly sprang from her and could fell it joining up and running
down her back and down between her breasts, her clothes were already
sticking to her.  His finger slipped between her lips and moved deeper
inside her and she cried out, trying to stop her legs from buckling.  She
was again instantly awash with sensation, a repeat performance of the other
day.  Like a drowning woman she suddenly recognised his ability to swamp
her, to flood her senses, to unmast her.  She was having difficulty in
breathing; his fingers were driving the air from her lungs, sucking the
oxygen out of the room.  The heat was suddenly unbearable; she wanted him
to take her clothes off, she wanted to lie down with him on the tiled floor
and allow him to cool her feverish skin

   The fingers that had been working their way down in the crack of her
bottom finally centred on the rosebud opening of her arse, his finger
sliding sweetly in the sweat that was running down her back, caressing and
exploring the small, tight opening.  Fear mingled freely with need.  He was
moving so fast, his hands commanding her body, making her ache, making her
want to beg, desperate to be touched, to go further, faster.  Her head was
spinning and all she knew was that she loved it.  Sweat mingled with her
juices as her body responded to his touch.

   Letting her loose for a moment he gathered her knickers into his hands
front and back and pushed them down onto her thighs.  There was no
resistance from her, in fact she wanted to cheer at the way he was clearing
the obstacle of her clothes from her body, giving his hands the freedom
they needed to carry on.  His hands slid back up her thighs, back to their
intimate caress, slipping through her wetness, burrowing between her lips,
knowing where to search, knowing when to touch.  She cried out with
pleasure.  She so excited that she came again, a short brief wave of
pleasure flashing upwards from her groin and then he was moving her forward
again, riding the crest of his fingers, suspending her between the fingers
in her sex and the hand cupping her bottom, spreading her cheeks, the tip
of one finger pressing slowly past the small puckered opening, exploring
her arse.

   She cried out and he spun her around again until she was facing towards
the desk and she staggered a little, hobbled by the knickers around her
thighs.  She reached for them but he suddenly pushed her face down onto the
work desk, her breasts flattening against the hard surface.  Grabbing her
hands he stretched her arms out to either side, palms down, holding her
there until she understood that that was what he wanted and she stayed
there as he stood behind her.  He paused for a moment a fractional respite
in the whirlwind seduction.  Then she felt his hands on her bottom,
exploring beneath her skirt, probing between her cheeks, moving lower to
grazing her sex and she shuddered at his touch, her eyes closed, her sex
open.

   With both hands he slowly raised the back of her skirt and carefully
laid it over her back, uncovering her to his gaze She could hear his
breathing as he studied her.  He had obviously placed her for this view
that he was now treating himself to, her arse and her sex thrust backwards
towards him, entirely exposed.  The position made her feel incredibly lewd,
coarse and yet at the same time wildly excited.  She realised with a sudden
shock that she wanted him to see her, she wanted him to see her there, she
wanted him to see her and to want her, to desire her as she desired him,
she wanted him to use her.  He placed his hands on the soft rounded cheeks
of her exposed arse and she trembled at his touch.  He forced her open with
his thumbs like a peach and she bit her lip in excitement.  He was exposing
her so intimately she wanted to shout for sheer joy and excitement.  She
realised with a slight tremble of fear and apprehension that this was no
fumbling schoolboy seduction, this was a man who knew what a woman looked
and felt like and he was treating her as such.

   A finger casually traced the cleft between her cheeks until it rested on
the little puckered rosebud at the entrance to her anus.  Again she was
shocked at the power of the sensation, the raw sexuality of his touch.  She
bit her lip and trembled as he traced his fingertip around the sensitive
opening, Adam and Eve, forbidden pleasure.  His finger probed at the
entrance a little and she whimpered, she heard him laugh quietly before
pushing the tip of his finger past the restraining ring of muscle.  She
cried out softly at the intrusion and he laughed again, pushing his finger
in a little further before withdrawing it.  She sagged against the desk for
a moment before his hand moved lower and finally cupped her gaping sex.

   He squeezed gently and she felt almost faint at the pressure.  Her sex
boiled at his touch.  He massaged the full length of her slowly with the
heel of his palm, gently pressing and releasing, causing her moan softly
against the hard wooden surface of the desk.  She pushed her head down onto
the desk and pushed her sex back against him.

   He laughed quietly as he worked her, feeling her squirm beneath his
hand. He rotated his wrist, moving her sex under the palm of his hand and
she groaned, her legs barely keeping her upright, her hands gripping the
edge of the worktop white knuckled.

   "You like that don't you?" he said, a disembodied voice from somewhere
behind her.  She tried to focus on his words but all she could feel was his
hand between her legs, she wanted to scream out her pleasure.

   "Yes," she managed finally and he laughed.  He moved his hand and his
fingers softly gripped the outside of her sex, pressing her lips together,
softly squeezing, massaging, rubbing slowly the whole length of her and
again she moaned, a deep guttural sound bubbling up around his fingers.

   His fingers probed her lips, inspecting them, working back along their
length, opening her up, parting them, exposing their coral wetness to his
gaze.  She felt his fingers move between them, working slowly from top to
bottom, causing her to whimper as they moved confidently and proprietarily
over her.  He was inspecting her, claiming her, preparing her and she
realised that she was submitting willingly to his will.

   He slipped two fingers inside her making her gasp.  She was so wet he
entered her easily and between the sudden explosions of sensations between
her legs she wondered vaguely where all the liquid was coming from, somehow
astounded with the idea that it was coming from her.  His fingers pushed
forward, probing deeply, exploring every centimetre of her exposed and
unpractised sex.  He moved his fingers with the strength of his whole hand
and she cried out again and gripped the edge of the workbench to steady
herself against him.

   His fingers moved into her with a softly sophisticated savagery, sliding
between her waiting pink lips, opening her up, pushing into her exposed sex
and she thought she would faint.  Her sex was on fire, her nipples ached.
She thrust herself back against the fingers that were insistently and
remorselessly burrowing deeper inside her.  She tried to open her legs
further but her knickers held her thighs, restricting her movements.

   She rested her head against the hard surface of the worktop as his
fingers continued their onslaught into her unprotected sex, working deeper
inside her, stretching her and she knew that resistance was futile, that he
knew what he was doing, that he was riding her up towards yet another
climax.  A much stronger climax this time, beginning with the fingers in
her sex but quickly setting fire to her whole body; nerve ending by raw
nerve ending.

   He was twisting his hand around, working his fingers into every
untouched corner of her sex, wonderfully hard and brutal; he was taking no
prisoners, giving no quarter.  Her juices ran down the inside of her legs
in response to his possession, his domination of her body.  She was soaked
in sweat and her legs were trembling as she felt herself begin to cum,
rising to fingers, willingly acceding to his mastery of her sex.  She cried
out as she thrust back against him, trying to force his fingers still
deeper, trying to force her climax out; and then she was riding him, his
fingers forcing the pace as he took her, leaning his weight against her to
pin her as her muscles gripped his fingers and she flooded out over his
hand.

   She screamed and bucked back against him, pushing savagely back against
his hand, draining every ounce of pleasure from his fingers.  She sagged
against the desk, winded and dazed, her climax still hard and fierce and
continuing and he her held her, his fingers still moving inside her,
helping keep her upright, driving her on, up and through her climax.  She
shook and cried out as he held her down, one hand between her legs and the
other between her shoulders, keeping her flat against the desk, face down.
She bucked and cried out as he held her there, keeping her in place so that
his other hand could do its work draining her juices and her climax from
her.  He worked her until she fell silent, spent, his slowly moving fingers
sounding loud and wetly in the sudden silence.

   He released her and her legs almost gave way and she slid down the front
of the desk and he had to catch her.  He lifted her back onto the desk,
still face down and she managed to stay there.  She half felt him reach
down and strip her knickers down her legs.  She was past caring, he could
do what he wanted, she was almost incapable of thought.

   The force of her climax had stripped her of her will and her senses and
she lay there dazed and weak.  She felt him moving her, pulling her from
side to side as he worked her skirt down over her hips.  She did not help
him, lying inert and immobile as he worked the skirt lower.  Once clear of
her hips it was easy and the skirt fell uselessly to the floor.  He knelt
down behind her, raising each foot as he pulled her skirt and knickers
clear.

   He leaned forward and held her knickers close to her face, she could see
they were soaked.  "Smell them," he said and she sniffed at them
compliantly, dazed and robotically, following his every instruction.  The
smell that assailed her senses was her, pungent and raw and her eyes
widened at the crude intensity of it.  "That's the smell of a sexually
active woman," he said quietly, "a woman in heat.  That smell is you," he
said his hand caressing the naked cheeks of her arse and the pink wet lips
of her swollen sex.

   He placed the sodden knickers on the workbench in front of her where she
could see them and the raw scent of her sex filled her head, invading the
room, invading her senses.  He laughed and spread her legs apart with his
foot, he was treating her like his whore; he had her naked from the waist
down, face down up his desk, she had cum repeatedly already and his hand
was at her sex again.  She felt sore and dazed; and incredibly alive.

   He stood slowly and positioned himself behind her; his hands moving to
her hips.  She feebly tried to stand but he gently, firmly, pushed her back
down flat against the desktop.  She sank back almost willingly, allowing
him the control of her body once again.  She closed her eyes but he slowly
pulled her back towards him until her body was clear of the top of the
desk, just her head and shoulders resting on the worktop.  He stretched her
arms to the side again, outstretched, hands on the worktop; positioning her
as he wanted.

   He stepped away for a moment to study her and she could feel his eyes on
her, studying her and she felt her sex open for him.  She had never felt so
alive before, so sexual and wanton.  He stepped back closer and put his
hands on her arse.  He rolled her cheeks under his palms and she closed her
eyes, feeling his warmth, his raw energy, his need of her body.  Like an
artist positioning his model he tapped her legs further apart again with
his foot, causing her to spread her legs and her sex to his gaze.

   He leaned forward over her and gathering the material with his thumbs he
pushed her blouse up her back and she half rolled, allowing the material to
ride up to her shoulders.  He unsnapped her bra before reaching around
underneath her, pulling the front of her blouse and her bra up to her chin.
Her breast fell free, feeling incredibly heavy, sensuous, dangling from her
chest.  She closed her eyes as his hands moved up to cup them, moulding to
their shape, feeling their weight.  His hands were so sure, so hard.  Her
drew her nipples down, milking her, stretching her breasts and suddenly she
realised that she was mewling like a kitten, she had never felt so sexy, so
sensual, she never wanted him stop.

   He stood upright against her, his hands stroking her back and her
flanks, running down between her legs, she almost purred as he touched and
stroked her sex.  She could feel her swollen lips open and her juices run.
She was ready for him and she moaned softly as he spread her wetness down
her thighs and up between the cheeks of her arse.

   Finding the small, soft entrance to her anus he paused for a moment
before pressing the tip of his finger once again passed the tight puckered
entrance.  She cried out for a moment in surprise and fear before the
finger was gone and moving on.  He stepped away slightly for a moment and
she thought she heard or felt a rustle of clothing but then he was back,
his hands caressing her body, loving her and she slipped back into the
warmth of the moment, forgetting everything except the sexual thrill of the
feel of his hands on her body.

   Slowly she began to rise again to the sensations of his fingers on her
skin.  His hand dipped between her legs again, opening her up, slipping
between her lips, stroking her already over sensitized sex.  She was dimly
aware his other hand had reached under her and cupped a breast, his fingers
finding and pulling on a nipple.  Her hanging breasts felt incredibly
sensitive and she cried out again as his fingers pulled and teased her,
drawing down her hanging teats like a cow.

   Then she felt him.  She knew immediately what it was that was resting
against the bare cheeks of her arse.  He had freed himself and his erect
penis was now nestling between her thighs, slowly pushing up towards the
lips of her sex and through the riot of sensations that were already
sweeping through her her heart suddenly beat faster.  This is what the
girls in class had all giggled about; this is what some girls bragged about
having done; the 'easy' girls, the cheap ones who had 'gone all the way';
the ones she had publicly looked down on but secretly envied.  Now it was
her turn and an erect penis was moving softly, insistently, against the
lips of her sex, gently spreading them, insinuating itself, searching for a
way inside her.

   She offered no resistance, she felt no danger.  She knew that he would
not hurt her and she simply wanted these wonderful sensations to continue.
She felt him push and her lips opened a little to accept him.  It reminded
her of some small blind animal, borrowing in the darkness between her legs,
a soft warm snout worming its way inside her, knowing where to look, where
to push to gain an entrance and suddenly she felt an incredible tenderness
towards him and the gentle burrowing penis that she had never seen but
which was even now pushing its way insistently inside her as if desperately
seeking its way home.

   "I don't want to get pregnant," she said quietly, as his penis continued
to probe so intimately and knowingly at her sex.

   "You won't be, I promise," he said and she felt the lips of her sex
suddenly swell and open as the head of his penis silently slipped inside
her.  There was no pain, no gruesome tearings as she had heard of from her
friends, just a warm sensation of fulfilment; and she gently laid her head
back onto the desk, her arms still outstretched as Mr Keitel took her by
the hips and holding her steady he slowly pushed himself inside her.

   He slid in easily, pushing the air from her lungs, causing her to sigh
in contentment and squeezing a tear from her eye.  Looking back she would
realise that she had played no part in the actual loss of her own
virginity, she had just lain there and let him enter her; deflower her,
pushing gently and easily inside her.  She felt him slowly filling her,
wondering at the feel of him, the hard length of him slowly filling her,
the width of him, stretching her lips wider and wider.  She marvelled at
the feel of him inside her and vaguely wondered what his penis would look
like when she eventually saw it; and suddenly she felt herself absurdly
blushing at the thought.  Mr Keitel without his trousers and an erect penis
and she laughed quietly to herself, a warm flush spreading up from between
her legs, across her chest and up into her cheeks.

   When he was almost fully inside he stopped and she held her breath,
feeling suddenly incredibly lethargic, almost idly wondering what would
happen next.  "Are you alright?" he asked her and she managed a hazy and
almost distracted 'yes' in response.  She could feel him hard inside her,
his body holding her against the cupboard, both of them trembling, she more
than he, as he stood still and silent behind her.

   His hands gripped her waist again and with a sigh he leaned forward and
he buried the last of his shaft inside her.  She felt the end of his penis
push up against the top of her womb and she cried out in wonder.  With an
almost involuntary reaction she tried to move away from the intrusion but
he held her in place and the desk she was leaning on allowed no movement.
She could feel all of him, from the tip of his shaft against her womb to
his pubic hair coarse and tickling against the cheeks of her bottom.  He
was fully inside her; her first man, her first lover.  She rolled the word
in her head, 'lover' and felt the warmth of the word made real by the hard
male member so real and alive inside her.

   She tried to pull herself together, this was no fairy tale, no young
girls daydream.  She could feel his penis hard and rigid inside her.  He
had taken her clothes and bent her over the desk, stripped her and opened
her legs, he had entered her and claimed her as his own, her first.  And
she suddenly felt she wanted to cry, a combination of emotion and
excitement.  It was finally happening to her, from schoolgirl to teachers
pet, bent over almost naked with her legs apart, being screwed up against a
cupboard in the school darkroom.  Such a transition is a couple of days;
and she felt her sex flood and her knees go weak at the thought.

   'Please' , she whispered, her face against the unresponsive desktop, not
knowing what she wanted to ask; 'please' she whispered again although she
knew that he was past questions or reason, he was deep inside her, probably
now lost to conscious thought, driven solely by the shaft that lay hard and
hot inside her.  So different for him than for her.

   She felt light headed, weak, her legs trembled.  She was so aware of her
body, every last centimetre of it, from her naked breasts, hanging loose
and pendulous, her nipples so tender that the very air seemed to inflame
them, to his shaft, buried hard and deep between her open legs.  Her sex
felt wonderfully stretched and full, her lips engorged and incredibly
sensitive to his every movement, every twitch of his buried shaft sending
bright red bolts of light spinning up towards her brain.  'Please' she
whispered again and he laughed quietly and his hips twitched and his penis
moved deep inside her.  She trembled at the feeling and at that moment they
both knew that he owned her body and soul.

   Placing one hand flat on the small of her back he slowly ran it up and
under her blouse between her shoulder blades until he gripped the back of
her neck.  He held her there for a moment before reversing his movement,
tracing the path of her spine down to the small of her back again, feeling
the crack of her arse, almost to where his penis turned their two bodies
into one.  She could feel the slick wetness of sweat on her skin, smoothing
the path for his hand.

   Sparks of electricity fitfully lit her brain like a faulty light.  Hot
flashes of sensation crackled through her before converging on her sex and
behind her hard and swollen nipples.  He leaned forward and his hand
followed the electricity to reach underneath her and cup one of her hanging
breasts again.  She moaned loudly as his fingers found her nipple and
pulled downwards, adding his weight to the already potently erotic effect
of gravity.

   She arched her back downwards trying to ease the pressure, each small
movement creating a counter movement of his shaft inside her.  She
whimpered and pushed gently back against him.  His penis moved deeper.  She
could feel her juices pour out of her.  She was beginning to float on the
sensations, loose herself in the feelings he was creating within her.  She
wanted to scream and cry at the same time.  The delicious pressure in her
sex was unbearable.  She felt him twitch inside her and he leaned forward,
almost laying himself along the length of her back.

   He reached under her with two hands and grabbed both her breasts.  His
fingers pulled and teased at her hanging nipples and she began to squirm
against him, her sex begging for relief, her nipples aching.  He expertly
drew her nipples down, creating sensations that she could not even begin to
understand.  She was now rocking herself back against him, her juices
sucking wetly where their bodies met.  He pushed back and she cried out
again, his length inside her now filling every last centimetre of her
being.

   Pulling on her breasts her lifted her upper body higher off the desk
until she was almost upright and the angle of his penis changed inside her
and she gasped, the sensation wildly different.  She cried out with
pleasure as he manhandled her, controlling her through her breasts.  He
pushed her forward again until she was resting on her elbows; her head hung
forward and she was breathing heavily through her nose, hard flared nostril
breaths, like a mare being mounted.

   "Are you ready?" he asked quietly, his mouth close to her ear behind
her. She didn't answer, his penis inside her stilling all the words in her
head.  "I said are you ready?" he repeated, squeezing her breasts until she
threw her head back.

   "Yes!" she cried out, "for fucks sake, yes!  I've been ready for days!"

   There was a moment's hesitation and then with a small laugh John leaned
forward and pushed into her as hard as he could and Gwen cried out, he was
so deep inside her she thought he would tear her open.

   John paused, buried in her to the hilt and then he pulled back and she
groaned as he withdrew; a sudden void inside her that she desperately
wanted him to fill again.  At the end of his stroke he paused again before
pushing back inside her once more and she rose onto her toes to accept him.
She cried out as he reached the end of each stroke, a forward thrust that
forced her sex open and pushed the breath from her body.  He pulled on her
breasts with each thrust, holding on to them hard to pull her back into
him.

   He was riding her and she knew it, fucking her masterfully and
deliberately.  She could hear him grunt with each deep thrust, filling her,
almost lifting her off her feet.  Her head swam, his hands were almost
painful, gripping her breasts tightly, pulling her back up hard against him
with every long and measured stroke.  The sensations crashed through her,
leaving her almost senseless, her body bouncing uncontrollably to each and
every relentless, remorseless, thrust.

   He released her breasts and pushed her fully forward face down again
flat upon the desk.  He placed a hand firmly between her shoulder blades
and pushed hard with is hips.  She cried out, she thought that this time he
was surely going to push through the top of her womb; her sex stretched to
accommodate him.  He changed the rhythm of his attack to long, deep, slow
penetrating strokes that she could feel throughout her body.  She could
feel every last centimetre of his length as he withdrew and then pushed
back inside her.

   With his free hand he reached around and under her, delving between her
legs, his fingers at the entrance to her sex searching for her clitoris. 
She cried out as he found her, his fingers immediate, insistent, drawing
the protective hood aside to stroke raw and immediate fire from her small,
sensitive nub.  White noise exploded in her head.  She cried out and bit
her arm, his fire was already raging through her, fingers and shaft
creating a white heat deep within her sex, a burning sensation that she
somehow understood was already blowing her world apart.

   She gripped the desk as if to save herself from falling as every muscle
in her body responded to him.  She thrashed on the end of his shaft as his
strokes drove all rational thought from her head.  She was filling with a
roar that was coming from deep within her, from deep within her sex; and
then he groaned and she felt him push harder into her, she could feel his
shaft twitch and pulse deep within her as his movements became hard and
jerky.  He pushed deep into her, his weight leaning forward on to her hips,
crushing her against the desk, pushing his penis hard up against the top of
her womb.  She knew somehow that he was cuming, filling her, claiming her,
and the knowledge took her over the top into her own mind wrenching orgasm.

   She knew that she screamed, that she thrashed her head and pushed back
against him, trying to push him even deeper into her wide open sex and that
even in the wild raging delirium of her own climax she heard him cry out
and try to bury himself even deeper inside her.

   She knew he had come.  She felt the spasm in his hips and swore that she
could feel his semen splashing into her, filling her, coating her womb.  He
cried out blindly and pushed again, this time a lesser attempt to pierce
her soul than the last but she could still feel his penis pushing hard up
into her and instinctively she gripped his shaft with her vagina, milking
him as he continued to ejaculate inside her.  He pushed hard for third
time, straining to cum again, emptying himself, his hand, lost in his own
climax, pushing her down hard against the desktop.  He shuddered and
strained, his strangled cries slowly dying on his lips.

   Then all was quiet except for their ragged breathing.  He slowly
collapsed forward onto her back, resting his weight on his arm alongside
her.  She could feel him slowly beginning to deflate inside her, to slide
out of her, to vacate the womb that he had so recently owned and
controlled. She began to cry softly, quietly, large tears that formed and
fell of their own accord wetting the desk beneath her.  He slowly pushed
himself upright and she felt his penis slip from her, slickly, slippery,
slinking away somehow like a thief in the night and she cried harder, deep
silent, wracking sobs that shook her shoulders.

   She felt him stand back a little and adjust his clothing but she just
lay there, face down, inert, somehow unconnected, slightly dazed by what
had just happened.  Then he was back with her, his hands stroked her
shoulders and back.

   "Are you OK?" he asked quietly, his hands now tentative although
comforting.  He took her by her shoulders and raised her from the desk,
turning her around and pulling her close into his chest, his arms
protectively enfolding her.  He stroked her hair, "Are you alright?" he
asked again, holding her tight to his chest.  This time she nodded and
sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

   He laughed and raised her face and she found herself looking into his
eyes, very blue, very concerned and yet smiling.  "I didn't hurt you did
I?" He brushed a strand of hair from her face, "I got a little carried
away," he added with an apologetic shrug, "It's been a long time," he said
looking at her for some understanding.

   "No," she said quietly, "you didn't hurt me." She shook her head and he
pulled her close into his chest again, one hand stroking the back of her
head.  She closed her eyes and let the closeness of him seep into her.

   "That was your first time wasn't it?" he asked, "You were a virgin
weren't you?" he supplied when she didn't answer.

   "Yes," she offered almost in a whisper, "but don't worry, I won't tell
anyone.  It will be our secret."

   "Our secret," he answered almost distractedly, "our secret." She nodded
emphatically and he wiped a tear away from her face with his thumb.  She
smiled up at him.

   "Did you enjoy it?" he asked, "for your first time?"

   She nodded, "It was absolutely fantastic!" she said quietly, "I never
imagined ....  when the other girls talked about it ...  " she trailed off
feeling foolish and he smiled.

   "It's OK," he said, "I understand." She blushed and looked down.  "When
did you plan it?" he asked quietly.

   "Plan what?" she asked confused.

   "This," he said, indicating the room, "your seduction." She looked back
at him blankly.  "You wanted it to happen," he offered and she nodded, "you
were hoping that it would.  Last time was an accident but this time was
planned."

   "Was I that obvious?" He reached down and his hand closed around her
breast and she moaned softly into his chest at the touch, surprised that
she was still so turned on.

   "Yes, you were to me anyway," he said, "I knew that you wanted to do it
since we first touched the other day, you were a dead giveaway."

   He fondled her breast for while and she snuggled close against him.  She
was just so aware of him as a man that she was having difficulty in keeping
still as his hand moved over her breast.

   "Let's have this off shall we?" he asked and pulled her wet shirt up and
over her head, he flapped it out and hung it on the back of the door, her
bra followed and finally she was completely naked.  He sat her down on a
stool and stood back to look at her and once again she suddenly she felt
embarrassed to be naked in front of him; fully dressed he had reverted to
Mr Keitel the schoolteacher.

   He stared at her for a long time, openly inspecting her naked body; he
was looking at her as no schoolteacher had ever done before and she looked
away.  It was like one of those childhood dreams where you find yourself
walking naked through school while everyone else is fully dressed and
staring at you.  His blatant interest in her body felt strange but at the
same time incredibly exciting; enough to keep her nipples erect and her sex
tingling.  In defence she pressed her legs together and folded her arms
across her chest.

   "Open your legs," he said quietly and she looked at him blankly.  He
made no move.

   "What?" she asked meekly.

   "Open your legs," he instructed again and slowly, "I want to look at
you," he said and as if hypnotised, she did as she was told.

   She sat with her arms folded across her chest and with her legs open for
his inspection, her sex on display.

   "Wider please," he said quietly and she watched her legs open even
wider, opening herself to his gaze.  He looked at her sex for a long time
and she could feel herself becoming wetter under his absorbed and intense
stare.

   He eventually turned around and pulled a towel from one of the drawers
and knelt in front of her.  "There," he said as if to a small child, taking
hold of her arms and moving them down to her side.  She offered no
resistance.  He applied the towel to the moisture between and below her
breasts, drying carefully under each, slightly lifting each in turn. 
"You're all wet," he said simply, his hands moving intimately over her,
drying her off.

   The towel briefly felt excitingly rough against her erect nipples and
she fought back a moan before he moved on down her abdomen to the moisture
coating her inner thighs, drying her as he went.  He held her legs open for
a moment while he inspected her sex and she sat there compliantly,
submissive, docile, fully allowing him this open intimacy.  Finally leaning
forward he placed his hands on the inside of her thighs and gently pushed
her legs fully open, her sex gaped and their combined juices began to flow
out of her.

   She looked up at him finally embarrassed but instead of withdrawing he
leaned forward and with a frown of concentration he began to dry between
her legs, starting with her thighs but eventually moving up and onto her
sex.  He opened her with his fingers and patted her dry, pausing to pay
special attention to her clitoris, drying around it carefully

   She almost came at his touch and she almost found herself whimpering as
he dried her sex.  When he had finished he put the towel to one side and
knelt there, inspecting his handiwork.

   "Beautiful," he said eventually, looking up into her face so she was not
sure what he was talking about, his handiwork, her face or her sex,
"Absolutely beautiful," he said, his eyes moving back to her sex.  She
caught her breath as he suddenly stroked the length of her with the back of
his knuckle.  Looking down at his hand she suddenly saw herself clearly,
sitting naked on a stool in a darkroom in the science lab at school with
one of her teachers kneeling between her open legs, stroking her sex and
her excitement rose until she thought she would burst.

   His finger continued to stroke gently at her lips causing her to quiver
like an over strung bow.  "Red pubes.  How beautiful.  Matches the hair on
your head," he said quietly and with his finger and thumb he spread her
sex, opening her up to his gaze again.  She watched as he peeled her lips
back to reveal her, wet and coral pink inside.  "Fantastic." He muttered
and smiled up at her.  "You really don't know how beautiful you are," he
said quietly and she blinked back at him, wide eyed and lost.

   He straightened up and stepped away leaving her sitting there, open
legged, watching him.  He opened a cupboard and pulled out his 35mm camera
and quickly fastened a flashgun to it.  He turned and smiled at her and
held up the camera with one hand.  "May I?" he asked somewhat formally. 
Gwen nodded without thinking, closing her legs a little.

   He fussed around for a moment selecting a roll of film from the stock in
the cupboard before flipping the camera open and loading it.  He turned
back to face her, smiling, before raising the camera to eye level.  There
was a subdued bounced flash and he lowered the camera again.

   "There, that wasn't too bad was it?" he asked and Gwen shook her head.
She was strangely relaxed, her sex boiled between her legs, her nipples
were erect and proud; she felt the sexiest, the most uninhibited, that she
had ever felt in her whole life.

   The camera flashed again and she found herself smiling back into the
lens.  He moved around her quickly, taking shot after shot, kneeling
between her legs for close-ups of her moist sex, she could feel the
moisture rolling down between her thighs again and she didn't care, she let
him photograph her however he wanted wherever he wanted.

   She was compliant and he positioned her as he wanted her, moving a leg
there, draping an arm here.  He pulled her hips forward to the edge of the
stool opening her legs lewdly to the camera and angled her body back to
rest against the cupboards behind her.  She lay semi-recumbent, her legs
wide, her sex and her sexuality open to the neutral eye of the camera.  Her
sex smouldered as she gazed back into the lens, sometimes seeing her
reflection, sensual, slick and sultry.  Smoke rose from between her open
thighs, searing her image into the film.  He had lit a fire between her
legs that would never be extinguished, a need to be touched that would
drive her for the rest of her life, which would smoulder between her thighs
forever.

   He pushed her hair from her face and her eyes blazed back at him from
under her fringe.  He touched her breast, her skin hot against his fingers.
She smiled his hands warm and welcome on her body, positioning her, opening
her up for his pictures.  She craved the attention.  She began to squirm as
her excitement bubbled through her from between her legs.  She needed him
to touch her.  To feed the heat that was smouldering between her legs which
at a touch would burst into flame, licking their way up through her belly
to set her breasts alight.  She was a pyrotechnic display waiting to
explode.

   He stood her up, he laid her down, she held herself open, her need to
cum boiling between her legs.  Finally he finished and he sat her down
again, her legs apart and her sex on fire.  He placed the camera down on
the worktop and pausing for a moment he turned back to face her.  She
waited, passively, expectantly, looking up at him standing above her
looking down at her naked body.  Smiling her slowly reached up and pulled
his wet t-shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor beside her own
clothes.

   She caught her breath and looked at him standing before her dressed only
in his shorts and shoes.  He looked strange.  For all their intimacy she
had never seen him this naked, this close before.  She had briefly once
seen him without his shirt before, at a school sports day when he had for
some reason changed shirts between events.  Then she had felt an illicit
thrill at the sight of his broad shoulders and flat chest, the down of fair
hair reflected in the strong sunlight; but that was then and this was now
and the context was much more intimate, more sexual; this time this was
real, this time he was stripping for her.

   He stood above her, half naked with a matching half mocking half smile
on his face.  Never taking his eyes off her he stepped out of his shoes and
kicked them away and her mouth went dry.  He smiled and in one motion he
hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and pushed them and his
underpants down to his knees.  Straightening he moved his legs and the
shorts fell to his ankles.  He stepped out off them and kicked them away.
He stood for a moment, completely naked, smiling down at her.

   Her smile had faded; she looked at her teacher standing naked before
her. Her eyes traced the fair hair down across his stomach to the mess of
slightly darker hair at his groin.  He opened his arms at his side to
provide her an unobstructed view of himself.  In disbelief she gazed at the
first real male member she had ever seen close to, one that was personal
and intended for her inspection.  She had caught glimpses of others before,
some flashed intentionally and some by accident; but they had always been
strangely unrelated to her, objects rather than something that was close up
and very personal.

   She stared at him in a mixture of amazement and awe.  He was so
different to what she had expected somehow; so male and yet so seemingly
vulnerable, hard and yet gentle at the same time.  His closeness
overpowered her senses and she watched in fascination as his penis twitched
and began to grow of its own accord, swelling slowly and rising up from
between his legs, somehow she thought it was the sexiest thing she had ever
seen and she closed her legs slightly in an attempt to hide her own
arousal.

   He looked down at his slowly growing penis and laughed.  "I'll take that
as a compliment," he said quietly and she smiled back at him with a
schoolgirl's lack of understanding.  "Well," he said at last, raising an
eyebrow, "will I do?"

   "Do?" she said stupidly.  She had not realised that he was opening
himself for her critical inspection, for her comment.  That perhaps he was
as nervous of displaying his body to her as she had worried about hers for
him.  She had not realised that as he took his clothes off she had had any
choice in what was happening.  He indicated his body with a wave of his
hand and slowly did a pirouette in front of her, his penis bobbing slowly
before her face.

   "Do I pass muster?" he asked again, serious, needing her approval.  She
nodded vaguely, she had no point of reference for such a question, he was
the first man she had ever seen naked, let alone erect.  She was just
stunned by his maleness, by the nearness of him, by his sheer animal
presence, his vitality and sexuality, by the wetness seeping down between
her legs, by the fact that he had already taken her virginity, made her
climax repeatedly, by the fact that he was already erect again, by the fact
that she wanted him inside her again and by the fact that whenever she
looked at him she could not breath properly.

   He moved closer, standing now between her open legs and she looked up at
him towering above her, the conquered and the conqueror.  He reached
forward and held the back of her head, gently pulling her slowly forward
until her face was mere inches away from his groin and his now fully erect
penis.  She looked up at him, his face was impassive but his eyes were
intense.  He drew her forward unresistingly and she placed her hands on his
thighs and was startled by the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips.  He
moved his hips forward and the tip of his penis touched her mouth.  She
looked up at him as he rubbed it slowly back and forth across her lips. 
She opened them slightly and touched the tip with her tongue; the salty
sperm taste filled her head, burning through synapses, jolting through her
body as if uncovering some deep animal memory of some forbidden and long
lost pleasure.

   She glanced back up at him standing stock still as the tip of her tongue
probed softly at the wet tip of his penis and she knew instinctively by the
clouding of his eyes and the stiffening of his body the pleasure she was
giving.  She opened her mouth and the head of his penis slipped between her
lips.  Closing her lips over the head she instinctively began to suck and
for the first time in her life her tongue swirled around the sensitive head
of a man's shaft.  He shook and leaned in against her, causing her to hold
his hips to try and control his movements.  He groaned as her lips moved
down his shaft.

   As her tongue began to gather confidence he slowly but firmly pushed
himself away until his penis popped out between her lips.  She looked up at
him quizzically but he opened his eyes and took a deep breath.  "Too
intense," he said quietly, breathing through his mouth, trying hard to
control himself, his hand still at the back of her head.  Watching his face
she opened her mouth and leaning forward she took him in her mouth again.
He shuddered and pushed her back pulling his penis away from her.  She
looked up at him confused, like a child who has tried to please and been
told to stop, had her sweets taken away from her.  He caressed her cheek.
"Later," he said breathing deeply, gathering himself together, "there's
plenty of time for that later.  Thank you.  I won't last."

   He pushed her gently back until she was lying with her shoulders against
the cupboards behind her and quickly knelt between her open legs.  The
change of direction took her by surprise and she quickly opened her legs as
wide as possible as he suddenly approached her.  Reaching out he cupped a
breast, squeezing her nipple gently, his other hand stroking her flank,
cupping her other breast before returning to her hip.  She struggled to
compose herself as her body responded immediately to his touch, her nipples
hardened and her sex seemed to flush and expand as if signalling her need
and her acceptance.  She tried to breathe as he took his penis in his hand
and positioned it like a weapon of war at the entrance to her sex.

   Unconsciously she strained her legs wider apart, completely opening her
sex to him, urging her hips forward as if to impale herself on his
advancing shaft.  He shuffled forward on his knees until the tip of his
penis rested lightly against the outside of her sex.  She watched his hand
move away as if releasing his shaft for business, the gantry falling away
from a space rocket leaving it standing erect and ready for its journey
into the unknown, except that this rocket, made of flesh and blood,
standing proud between her legs already knew the way.

   He leaned forward and his penis rested against the lips of her sex and
she shivered at its bold, immodest touch.  Before her fascinated gaze his
penis twitched briefly as if knocking at the gate of her womanhood, as if
asking her permission to enter.  She glanced quickly up at him and then
back down between her open legs again, their heads almost touching as they
both peered down between their bodies.  He placed his hands on the inside
of her thighs and opened her legs still further and the lips of her sex
opened like the gates of a captured city before him.  The tip of his penis
moved slowly forward and she took a deep breath, placing her hands over
his, her fingers gripping hard.  He pushed again and they both watched as
the head of his penis slid silently inside her.

   Her legs closed on his hips, gripping him, and involuntary reaction to
the pressure in her sex, the soft intrusion, the gentle force; and she held
him there, as if asking for a respite, the head of his penis just inside
her.  He freed his hands from hers and he pushed her back again, hands on
her shoulders, up against the cupboard.  His penis waited, nestling between
her open legs, its head just inside her sex, while his hands explored her
breasts.  She closed her eyes and he leaned forward, his shaft slipping
smoothly, a little further inside her.

   He found her nipples and she gripped his elbows, half pulling his hands
onto her breasts and half pushing him away, she was once again beginning to
drown in the sensations he was creating.  She struggled for breath as if
his hands on her breasts were squeezing the air from her chest.  His penis
pulsed within her sex.  She felt him withdraw lightly and she cried out
before he pushed again and slid, well lubricated, fully inside her.

   Her eyes widened as she glanced down to where their two bodies met and
saw his pubic hair, hard up against hers, her legs strained apart to accept
him.  He pulled back and she saw his shaft slowly appear as if expelled,
pushed out from inside her.  But the exact opposite was true and she cried
out with disappointment as he withdrew, his shaft like a growing bridge
between them, shining wetly in the heavily erotic glow of single red
developing light.  She tried to grab his arms and pull him back but he
laughed and holding her arms apart he slid his length effortlessly back
inside her.  She hissed like a train expelling steam.  He pushed hard and
the tip of his shaft bumped up against the top of her open womb.  She cried
out and he placed a hand in the middle of her chest to hold her in place.

   Her eyes opened wide as he withdrew again, smoothly, easily, his shaft
gliding fluidly between her well lubricated lips.  She held the am that
held her down, her eyes on his.  His eyes were fixed, staring inward at
some inner battle he was fighting with himself.  His lips parted in a
grimace as his hips moved of their own accord and his shaft plunged deep
inside her again.  Her hips bucked against him, sucking him deeper and she
cried out as she felt him fill her again.

   He withdrew again, picking up speed as the liquid grip on his shaft
drove his need to bury himself as deep inside this young and very willing
body as he possibly could.  He pushed hard this time, his shaft as hard as
he had ever known it, her lack of resistance and her wide open body driving
him on.  Her breasts bounced as he reached the end of his stroke.  He
withdrew again, her muscles sucking against him like the tide on a shingle
beach.  He pushed hard again, his stroke still gathering pace and she
bucked under him, her hips rising to meet the thrust, her heart beating
beneath his hand on her chest.

   They were both slick with sweat again, the small airless room almost
claustrophobic around them.  She cried out as he pressed home again, the
length of his shaft buried hard in the soft and secret dark recess of her
womb.  His free hand gripped her hip, pulling her deeper on to his every
stroke.  She began to shake as the fire burst into flame and licked up
through her belly fuelled by the liquid friction between her legs.  He held
her tight, pinning her in position, holding her down as his shaft moved
hard and hot between her legs.  She gripped his arm, her nails digging deep
into his flesh.  She could feel her growing climax gripping at her womb,
rippling like fire in different waves of intensity through her body,
threatening to engulf her, drive her sanity from her.

   She began to cry, small guttural sounds that coincided with each thrust
inside her.  Her orgasm gathered in power as his pace increased and his
strokes gathered in violence.  She thrashed beneath him, rolling and crying
out.  His mastery of her was absolute, his control complete.  She screamed
and gripped him with her thighs as every nerve ending in her body exploded
at the same moment.



   Summer Ch.  15 Gwen's Story 3

   The affair quickly gathered pace.  They met again the next day and
within moments of arriving he was inside her; fingers, tongues, his penis,
it didn't matter; he filled her to capacity and then some, they were
insatiable.  They made love throughout that first day; and the next and the
next.

   She could not wait to be with him, the thought of his hands on her and
his penis inside her filled her head, made her senses swim.  She would run
all the way to school every morning to be with him and he would always be
waiting for her, smiling and already erect.  They could not keep their
hands off each other.  They spilled out of the darkroom and into the
classroom beyond.  They would lock the door and draw the blinds even though
the school was quiet and empty during the holidays yet there was always the
chance of the occasional teacher or cleaner or pupil wandering around and
discovery and disclosure was unthinkable for either of them.

   She always seemed to be naked, he would have her naked within seconds of
entering the room, he would strip her so fast it made her head swim.  He
kept her that way so she was accessible, so she was constantly available;
and she loved it.  Being constantly naked was incredibly liberating, being
so constantly desired was flattering in the extreme and being so constantly
and utterly used, debased, fucked, spread-eagled, cum upon, cum in,
fingered and made to cum was enslaving and intoxicating beyond her wildest
dreams,

   He set up photo shoots, nothing was sacred, he photographed every part
of her in every possible position, close ups, wide angle, in both black and
white and colour.  Sometimes he would set the timer so that he could appear
in the photo with her; sometimes in the act of making love with his penis
buried deep inside her, sometimes with her masturbating him, her small hand
wrapped around his shaft, sometimes with his fingers deep inside her and
sometimes just sitting together naked, his arm protectively around her
shoulder or her waist, or possessively holding her breast, but always
naked, and always with her sex, already moist and glistening, open and on
view.

   And she found she enjoyed the exhibitionism, opening her legs to the
camera.  She enjoyed being photographed naked, her nipples erect and her
sex on view.  She found the act of being photographed while he was inside
her exciting in the extreme, wanton but at the same time incredibly
liberating.

   When they developed the photos together later in the afternoon, when
they were satiated and resting, she would watch in wonder as image after
image formed and hardened in the developer.  Bathed in the deep red light
and wearing nothing but a black rubberised apron she would look at the
naked young woman staring back at her.  The raw sexuality of the images
stunned her, huge close-ups of her nipples, hard and erect, her wet and
sleek vagina displayed on an immense scale, sometimes with his fingers
inside her or holding her open to the camera, every hair, every fold of her
sex clearly defined and she had stood transfixed, mesmerised, looking at
the images of herself hanging on the line, drying slowly in the still, hot
air.  She had not known that such images were possible; it had never
crossed her mind, and while she stood there, stunned, she had felt him
behind her, opening the strings of her apron, his hands moving slowly
around the front to cup her breasts.

   She stared at the images in front of her, aware that he was touching the
inside of her ankles with his feet, getting her to open her legs before
slowly pressing her forward, bending her over.  Her apron had hung loose at
the front as he had taken her from behind, slipping easily inside her,
pressing fully home as his fingers reached around to pull on her hanging
nipples, a favourite position of his.

   She had stared at the pictures as he moved inside her, the liquid
feeling of his shaft merging with the images in her head; the sensuality of
the whole combining in a climax that caused her to cry out and collapse,
head on arms once again as he emptied his seed deep inside her.  She had
watched as he had reached past her, his seed slowly sleeping from her and
picked the pictures out of the developer and dropped them into the next
tank, fixing the images forever.

   She grew to love them, all the images of her body, posed and open,
sitting in the darkroom, at her desk in the science lab, laid out across Mr
Keitel's big desk in the classroom, some bending forward and some looking
back, some with her leaning forward, others laying back; images of her
breasts, some dry, some wet, some with his sperm running down and over
them, some almost wet enough to touch on the print, sometimes with his
penis in shot, some with his sperm just jetting at the point of climax; she
loved them all and would study them intently, marvelling in the freedom and
the secrets they each represented, each one a story, each one a fragment of
her burgeoning sexuality and of their secret life together.

   She would find herself staring at the image of her face in a picture and
smile into the face staring back at her.  She was always surprised at how
completely happy she looked.  She was not a morose young woman but she
usually hated having her photograph taken and suffered from the usual range
of teenage angst's with regards her own self image; but in all these
pictures the most arresting thing for her was how she looked, naked, legs
open to the world, no trace of embarrassment, just supremely happy,
content, confident in her nakedness and in her own body.  The pictures for
her were a voyage through her own sexuality.

   She could smile at the secret story in each image, what they had been
doing either before or even during the photo shoot, why her sex was wet and
her nipples erect or her breasts red.  With each print, knowing its
history, she would look for the finger marks on the inside of her thighs,
the matted pubic hair or the trail of sperm and for the first time in her
young life she felt completely happy.

   After a while she began to pick up the camera herself and turn it on
him. The pictures were not as professional as his, as crisp or as clear but
they captured her view of their relationship, of their joint sexuality. 
Pictures of him erect, at the point of climax, or post coital and deflated,
his penis still shining and wet with her juices and one that always made
her laugh, with him pointing at his erect shaft, 'meet John Thomas,' he had
said.

   'John Thomas?' she had enquired confused, 'You gave it a name?'

   He looked at her lamely and shrugged, 'From D.H.  Lawrence, 'Lady
Chatterley's Lover,' he explained and then he smiled as she looked blank,
'It's a man's thing I guess,' he said and burst out laughing, his penis
bobbing wildly in front.

   He had picked her up in arms and carried up to his desk at the front of
the room, laying her down on it.  He had made her cum with his fingers
before climbing up onto the desk with her and making love to her until she
had cried out.  Each picture had a secret and she loved them all.

   His desk in the science lab was huge.  A fixed solid fronted wooden
affair raised two steps above the classroom floor.  High ground from where,
during lessons, he could look down on the entire class and from where he
could conduct his experiments so the whole class could watch.  He had once
blindfolded her and laid her out on that desk, conducting his own
experiments on her, opening her kegs as wide as they could go while he
pretended to point out the parts of her sex to the class.  Touching her
slowly, each touch creating an exquisite tension inside her, each touch
complete with an explanation of what that particular part of her sex was
called and what it was used for; her clitoris took a long time to explain
and resulted in a number of restarts in the lesson.  He measured the
distance between her nipples with a cold steel ruler, measured her sex,
measured her erect nipples, all the while writing the results up on the
board behind him.

   When she was literally writhing with excitement, he held her open with
his fingers until her sex gaped.  He then invited members of her imaginary
class up to inspect her and he asked them what they thought of her laying
there, open for them.  Still holding her open he touched her brusquely with
his other hand and he told her his fingers were theirs.  He described what
they were doing to her.  He asked if anyone wanted to conduct the 'final
internal' examination and she was sure she could hear chairs scrape on the
hard wooden floor as more and more volunteers came forward to inspect her,
to put their hands on her.

   He called a name forward to carry out the final internal examination, a
name she knew very well; and with her blindfold she could almost see him
standing there looking down on her.  Mr Keitel urged him on and she felt
his fingers at the entrance to her sex.  She almost exploded as he slipped
his fingers into her and once she had started she could not stop.  She
writhed around on the large wooden desk, blindfold, held down, believing
she could feel her classmates hands all over her, inside her.  She gripped
his hand between her thighs as climax after climax washed through her,
calling out, stretching her legs wider in an attempt to let them all in;
until she collapsed, limp and spent, his fingers still softly moving inside
her.  He had taken her picture then, naked, exhausted, wiping her own
juices from the top of the desk.  Every picture told a story.

   The affair had progressed unabated into the following school year.  They
would meet whenever they could, during breaks and after school, carefully
locking the classroom door and drawing the blinds.  "Photography Club
business" became their euphemism for sex.  In the now familiar red glow of
the darkroom he would quickly strip her skirt and knickers off and spread
her legs wide, working his way up her thighs with his tongue.  She would
always shake as he opened her up with fingers, holding his head as his
tongue moved between her lips, his juices mixing with hers.  She would wrap
her legs around his shoulders as his tongue found her clitoris, pushing her
dripping sex into his face.  He was fast and efficient, making her cum
quickly in the confined space and she would climax quietly, her body
shaking, her fingers wrapped tightly in his hair.

   When he was sure she had finished he would roll over onto his back and
watch as she undid his pants and pulled him clear.  Pulling his pants down
she would feverishly straddle his legs before taking him in her hand.  She
was already an expert at making him cum and she milked him a couple of
times with long steady strokes to get him ready.  She knew what he loved
and often would bend down and take him in her mouth, swallowing him whole.
He always groaned as her lips worked his shaft, her tongue swirling around
his soft bulbous head.  She was a natural and she was doing what she loved.
This was their secret world, their secret act.

   The first time she had performed oral sex on him she had taken him out
of her mouth before he came and she had climbed up his legs before
inserting him inside her before riding him to his climax.  "I tasted it,"
she had said by way of explanation later, "and I liked it, I'll make you
come in my mouth next time;" and she had, she learned to 'suck him off' as
he called it and she swallowed his sperm without pause.  Another in the
growing list of secret acts.

   As their affair grew so did their daring and more than once they were
once almost caught.  One, a quick fumble outside the classroom in a
corridor between classes, was a case in point.  She had been sent on an
errand by another teacher and he was on his way to the staffroom.  He had
seen her coming and waited, grabbing her from behind as she hurried past,
dragging her into the darkened recess below some concrete stairs.

   He was already erect as he had pushed her to her knees and unbuttoning
his pants he had pulled himself free.  Gwen gasped as he quickly fed
himself into her mouth, her lips closing automatically around his shaft. 
She had gagged slightly as he quickly pushed himself further in.  Holding
the back of her head he urged her lips to do their work.

   "We'll be caught," she said around his shaft, her mouth already
dutifully working on him.  "We can't do it here!" she had said but he held
her firm, his hand holding her head in position.

   "Just do it," he whispered, "make me cum"; and she did, her mouth
sliding up and down on him until she could feel him beginning to tense. 
Despite the danger she could feel herself getting wet, she could feel it
between her legs; the situation and the sudden sex soaking into her
knickers.

   That's when they heard the footsteps on the stairs above their heads,
adult, solid footsteps.  She recognized the voice of the headmaster and the
woman he was talking to, Mrs.  Phillips the geography teacher.

   She tried to stand up but he held her in position, his rigid penis deep
in her mouth still looking for fulfilment.  The couple halted just above
their heads, carrying on their conversation in hushed tones.  Releasing
Gwen he pushed her back further into the scant cover of the recess.  The
voices continued floating down from above.  If either of them had leaned
over the handrail they would have been discovered.  Not daring to breathe
Gwen wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked down.  She almost
burst out laughing as Mr.  Keitel stood there, his red, wet, shaft standing
proudly before him.  With a look she urged him to put it away but Mr. 
Keitel simply smiled,

   Grabbing her by her shoulders he turned her around until she was facing
the wall behind.  The move took her by surprise and she did not guess what
he was going to do until she felt him reach beneath her skirt and taking
hold of her knickers he quickly eased them down over her hips.  She tried
to stop him but she was afraid of making a noise and he quickly manoeuvred
them down to her ankles.  The voices above them continued to talk in hushed
staccato whispers.  There was obviously some crisis afoot and a decision
was being sought just a few feet above their heads.

   As if oblivious to the danger the headmaster posed, or possibly because
of it, Mr Keitel was brooking no resistance.  Pushing her up against the
wall he pulled her blouse out the waistband of her skirt and pushed it high
up her back.  She struggled silently as she felt him unsnap her bra. 
Spinning her around to face him he swiftly unbuttoned her white school
shirt and pulled up her bra.  She tried to cover her naked breasts but he
pushed her hands away.  Pushing his trousers and pants down to his knees he
sat down on the small bench below the multilayered coats and pulled her
close to him.

   Raising her skirt he pulled her forward onto his lap, until she was
sitting astride his legs facing him.  With his hands on her hips he
manoeuvred her until she could feel the tip of his penis push its way
gently between the folds of her already wet lips.  She gasped as he settled
her down and with a small thrust his rigid shaft, he entered her smoothly
and to the hilt.  She stifled a cry grasping him by the shoulders of his
old tweed jacket as he pulled her completely down onto him, firmly
embedding himself inside her.

   He paused to allow her to become accustomed to his length inside her, to
settle herself down, to accept the intrusion; and as she felt him fill her
she leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder, slowly relaxing into
the situation, accepting their shared fate, accepting her inability to do
otherwise.

   The conversation above them was growing animated and she could hear the
Headmaster tapping out his points with something hard on the banister
above. Mrs.  Phillips was arguing strongly in denial but Gwen was having
difficulty in caring somehow, the penis buried deep within her was
demanding her attention, draining her of her fear of discovery.  Mr. 
Keitel pushed her blouse back from her breasts and his fingers fastened
upon her sensitive nipple, alternately pulling and rolling it until she
wanted to cry out.  He cupped her breast, holding the whole in the palm of
his hand, moulding it, squeezing it just as he knew she liked him to.

   His shaft was rigid inside her and she began to squirm on it, raising
herself a fraction so that she could settle back onto it, trying to create
the friction in her sex that would take her to orgasm.  Using both hands he
mauled her breasts, forcing her to lean back to give him room.  Looking up
she could see the toe of the headmaster's sensible brogues peering out from
the landing above.

   He squeezed her sensitive nipples and palmed her breasts until she began
to whimper.  He stilled the sound with a kiss, a hand on her shoulder
drawing her close.  She kissed him back hungrily until she eventually ran
out of air and broke off.  He laughed quietly against her ear and pushed
her blouse back off her shoulders so that he could he could kiss and bite
and neck and shoulders.  She let him do what he wanted, he could strip her
naked now, she didn't care who found them; she just wanted this to
continue. He held her bunched blouse at the back, pulling her arms and
shoulders back, thrusting her chest forward.  His lips fastened on to her
nipple, suckling, nipping, forcing her hips to grind down onto him, her
juices flowing.

   Exasperated the Headmaster moved a few steps down the staircase before
turning and quickly walking back up to where Mrs.  Phillips still stood. 
His voice was low and angry and in her mind Gwen could almost see his face,
red and fierce, as he launched back into his argument.

   Mr.  Keitel released her arms and she threw them around his neck,
hanging on as thought she could fall off his lap, as if she were not pinned
there by the penis lodged deep within her sex.  She buried her head into
his shoulder and pushed down hard on the rigid shaft that was embedded deep
inside her.  Leaning closer Mr.  Keitel whispered "are you ready?" in to
her ear and she nodded furiously.

   With his hands on her waist to keep her positioned she almost screamed
as he suddenly thrust himself upwards, only a small motion but she was so
excited that it seemed to split her open.  He pushed again and she bit into
the coarse material of his jacket to keep from making a sound.  His hips
began to rock steadily, a circular motion that caused her to rise up on his
shaft a little before falling back down, an exquisite motion that bumped
the head of his penis against the top of her sex.

   She moaned into his shoulder and he pushed her head back from his
shoulder, folding one hand firmly across her mouth trying to guarantee her
silence.  His other hand went around her waist and drew her hips into him,
pulling her hard down.  She shook her head trying to free her mouth but he
held her firmly.  With his arm round her waist behind her he held her in
position while he began to drive into her with short, sharp thrusts of his
hips.

   She could feel her breasts bounce with every thrust and her erect
nipples rubbed against the coarse material of his jacket, inflaming them,
driving her higher.  With her mouth covered she breathed heavily through
her nose like a horse winded in a long chase and the bench moaned quietly
beneath them but the argument above them had intensified and covered the
growing noise they were making.

   He was working her now, thrusting upwards with his hips while his arm
around her waist pulled her forward and down onto him.  She hung on to his
shoulder, trying to brace herself against each increasingly savage thrust.
She could feel her climax rising from between her legs, constricting her
chest, rasping in her throat.  She pulled at his hair forcing his head back
and she bit his hand as he continued to thrust hard up into her.

   Then she came, driving herself down onto his shaft, pressing her groin
on to his to squeeze every last ounce of pleasure from the climax.  She
shook her head as she felt him strain upwards, pumping his seed up into the
welcoming darkness of her womb.  They clung to each other, hands gripping
tightly like shipwrecked sailors to a rock until the first desperate
shuddering storms were over.

   The headmaster paused and looked around, unsure that he had heard
anything before continuing, his voice strident with control, "I will not
have sex education in this school Pam.  I don't care what you call it.  Sex
education is still sex education and it has no place here."

   "But headmaster," Mrs.  Phillips tried again.

   "No!  No buts.  That's my final word.  I will not have sex in this
school!" He said and turned on his heel.  Mrs.  Philips stood there sadly
watching his retreating back.  She sighed and shuffled some papers.  They
heard the snap of her handbag as she opened it to search inside.

   Mr.  Keitel eased Gwen away from her, breaking her grip on his
shoulders. She sagged against him, spent, exhausted.  Looking down between
their bodies he touched her breast and she groaned softly.  Mrs.  Phillips
did not hear anything as she pulled a cigarette from the packet and lit it,
leaning back against the wall.

   "I will not have sex in my school," Mr.  Keitel whispered close to
Gwen's ear as he moved his hand down between her open legs, his finger
searching for her clitoris between the warm wet folds at the top of her
sex. He touched her and she jumped, a soft moan escaping from her.  Mrs. 
Philips paused in mid drag, exhaling slowly, suddenly wondering if she had
heard anything or not.  Gwen bit her lip as his finger began its slow
familiar rotation between her legs.

   His deflating penis slipped from her as she moved against him, he
stroked faster and Mrs.  Philips pushed herself upright again.  Suddenly
her thoughts were full of sex, the act itself, not some crusty allegory to
be taught in some other school than this if the headmaster had his way. 
She suddenly felt the moist flush between her own legs and the hot flush
running up through her chest and face and she blushed and wondered why she
had suddenly thought of sex, she had not thought of it like this for a long
time.  She took another hurried drag of her cigarette and quickly smoothing
herself down she hurried away, the soft moans of a young girl in climax
drifting almost ghostlike behind her.

   Gwen cried out and shuddered on his finger, her climax fierce and short.
He held her to him, his fingers gently stroking at her wetness, he softly
kissed the pulsing vein at the side of her neck.  "I think you scared her
away," he said quietly.

   Gwen laughed in disbelief, "I cannot believe you just did all that!"

   He rocked her against his chest, his hand still between her legs, "Did
all what?  " his fingers in her sex a little more insistent.  "I can feel
how wet you are; you can't tell me that you didn't like it."

   "That's not the point," she said as his fingers slipped inside her
again, spilling her wetness over his hand and his groin.  "You must stop,"
she said unconvincingly, "I've got a message to deliver.

   He looked down at, his fingers still moving inside her, "Not dressed
like this you can't," he said and she looked down almost startled, her
blouse wide open and her skirt rucked up around her waist.  She squirmed as
his fingers pushed deeper inside her, ever more insistent.

   "No," she said softly, leaning in against him, surrendering to the
pleasure.

   "Oh I think so," he said, knowing he had won again.

   The sudden strident clanging of the end of lesson bell was almost
deafening in the small alcove.  Mr.  Keitel sprang to his feet almost
toppling Gwen to the floor.  "Fuck!" he exclaimed hurriedly pulling his
pants up.  Gwen fished her knickers off the floor and reached behind her
trying to pull her bra straps together.  Mr.  Keitel spun her around and
snapped the clasp together while she frantically buttoned up her blouse. 
Feverishly finishing dressing they stood and breathlessly looked each other
over as the first classroom door opened and a noisy riot of children
spilled out into the corridor.  Mr.  Keitel took the knickers from her hand
and before she could object he pushed them into his pocket.  "Too late," he
said as the students began to stream past.  "They'll remind me of you.  You
can have them back later."

   Without another word he pushed her out into the milling throng and she
immediately disappeared, swept away in the sea of fresh young faces.  He
waited a moment before stepping out and making his way down the corridor in
the opposite direction.  He smiled as he felt the knickers bunched in his
pocket, unaware that he was being watched.  Standing at the staff room
widow, smoking another cigarette, Mrs.  Phillips watched Mr.  Keitel make
his way down the corridor.  She had not seen who he had been with.  'Well,
well'" she thought as she puffed on her cigarette, 'who would have guessed?
Someone is very lucky,' she thought as she watched him breast the flow of
children in the corridor, aware of the dampness in her own knickers.  'Half
the women in this staff room would like to have a shot at him.  A very
lucky woman indeed,' she said aloud, turning back from the window.

   Such close calls did not stop them.  He took risks with her.  Sailing
close to destruction seemingly turned him on and whatever turned him on
worked for her.  She would happily follow wherever his fingers took her. 
He loved to surprise her, taking her to the edge.  His audacity would make
her gasp.  He sometimes summoned her from whatever class she was in and in
front of the class would give some 'urgent darkroom work' to do for him. 
After ten minutes he would knock on the door and ask if all was OK and she
would say, 'No, it wasn't working' and he would set the class reading while
he slipped inside to help her.

   She knew by now which clothes to wear for him, which gave him the best
access to her body and he would push her skirt to the floor and pull her
blouse up over her breasts.  He would free her breasts while his hand
worked its way between her legs and he would make her come, hard and fast,
matting her juices into her pubic hair and up across her stomach.  She
would groan and try to keep quiet as his fingers worked inside her. 
Unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down she would free him, stroking
him hard until he came or until he bent between her legs and pushed himself
inside her.

   When she was in his class and he was teaching she would squirm on her
seat knowing exactly what he was thinking as he walked up and down the
aisles talking to the class, pausing to lean over to explain something to a
classmate, knowing that he was looking at her.

   He once walked down the aisles distributing their marked homework books.
Hers was last and he smiled as he walked back to his desk.  She casually
opened it found she was staring at a full page picture of herself, naked,
her sex puffy and obviously well fucked, sitting at the same desk, smiling
back dreamily and contentedly.  She almost shrieked and closed the book
quickly.  He was smiling at her from behind his big desk, one eyebrow
raised in quizzical humour.  Sitting beside her Jackie looked up from her
book.

   "What's wrong," she whispered, "crap mark?" Blushing furiously Gwen
shook her head.

   "No, just remembered something I haven't done, and she carefully opened
the book to turn to her homework.

   Later that same lesson he called out certain students one by one to
discuss their homework.  Almost lost behind his big desk they would talk
quietly so that the rest of the class could not hear just how well or how
badly they were doing.  When he called her name Gwen went up with her book,
hesitantly, her heart beating.  The whole class were reading, a quiet drone
of hushed conversations as they worked.  She placed the book on his desk
and turned immediately to the picture as she bent over his shoulder as if
reviewing her work.

   "Nice work," he said quietly and she laughed, her thumb stroking his
back, out of sight where her hand rested on the back of his chair.  He
pulled the picture out of the book and placed it in the centre of his desk
before turning to her homework.  He began a low monologue about it,
discussing bits and pieces as he had done with the others.  She could not
take her eyes from the photograph.

   She started as she felt his hand on the back of her thigh, moving
upwards into the darkness under her skirt.  She looked up quickly at the
class but they were all working, oblivious of what was happening in front
of them.  She crossed her legs as he fondled the cheeks of her bottom, his
finger slipping briefly between her legs to graze her sex.  The well used
girl stared unrepentantly back at her from the top of the desk.

   He hooked his finger into the waistband of her knickers at the back and
pulled them down.  She gasped and straightened up, trying vainly to keep
them in place.  She put her hand around her back to try to hold them in
place but he continued to work his way around the waistband, slowly pulling
them lower over her hips.  In panic she looked up at the class but they
were still working quietly, completely uninterested in the two of them,
blissfully unaware of her rising panic and the loss of her underwear.

   He was not in a hurry and he calmly continued to work her pants down
over her bottom, his fingers exploring as they went, grabbing handfuls of
the smooth flesh, insinuating themselves between the cleft of her cheeks,
seeking out her anus, moving steadily lower, unnerving her, forcing her to
squeeze the top of her legs together.

   He finally pulled her knickers down off her hips and they slid down her
legs only being held by her closely clamped thighs.  He continued to talk
in a soft monotone while he worked his hand between her legs.  She hissed
at him to stop, her voice cracking in alarm.  "Open your legs then," he
said calmly tugging at the trapped material.  She shook her head, fighting
back the fear as her knickers slid down another inch.

   He looked up at her and smiled, "you're going to have to let them go,
you'll never make it back to your desk like this." Recognising her plight
and the truth of his words she slowly opened her legs and, with a sense of
unreality she felt him pull them down her legs to her ankles.  He tapped
the back of her knees and she stepped out of them.

   His hand immediately travelled back up under her skirt to cup and mould
the cheeks of her arse.  In desperation she looked up and saw Jackie
looking up at her, Gwen smiled reassuringly and unconcerned Jackie went
back to her book.

   "Open your legs again," he said quietly.

   "No" she said and she felt him hook his fingers into the back of her
skirt.

   "Open your legs or you skirt will follow your pants," he said smiling up
at her in a schoolteacher sort of manner.  Licking her lips she opened her
legs a little and his hand moved down, following the line between her
cheeks, down between her open legs.  "Wider," he said and she did,
shuffling her legs apart while leaning forward to keep her balance.

   He found her sex and parted her lips with his fingers.  She stiffened as
he traced the length of her.  She was surprised to find that she was
already wet and ready for him.  As his finger found her clitoris he pointed
at her sex in the photo with his free hand and said in a slightly louder
voice, "There, that's how it should be, that's how I like it," and she
muttered something inaudible in reply.  Bracing herself as his hand moved
between her legs, his finger stroking her erect clitoris.  He continued the
motion, his finger sending small jolts of fire racing up through her groin
until her legs began to tremble and moisture began to run down the inside
of her thighs.

   She tried to move away, to release the pressure that was building inside
her but there was nowhere to go.  She looked up for inspiration.  A couple
of her classmates were watching her disinterestedly and they quickly went
back to their reading when they saw her looking at them.  'If only they
knew,' she thought, 'if only they could see.' Her legs continued to tremble
and she leaned further over, digging her fingers into his back.

   "Now then," he said, "if you do it like," and he slipped his thumb
inside her, pushing it in right to the very base, "if you do it like that
you get a much better result." Gwen thought she was going to faint, she
tried to straighten up but the pressure kept her there.  He moved his thumb
slowly in and out of her, acting for all the world as if there was nothing
happening.

   "And if you will look at this," he said pointing again to her open sex
in the photo, "you will see what we are trying to achieve." His thumb slid
in and out of her sex.  She could feel her self control sliding away.  "Do
you understand?" he asked.

   "Yes sir," she muttered, her voice catching in her throat.  He
straightened his fingers so that every time his thumb moved inside her he
could stroke her clitoris.  She leant harder against the desk as his thumb
and fingers worked inside her.  She was soaked, his fingers wet between her
legs, she could feel her juices running down and she would swear that she
reeked of sex.  She could feel her climax building in intensity as she
tried to stay calm and look as though nothing were happening.

   "I think we can finish this don't you?" he said as a matter of fact and
his thumb moved in circles, feeling huge inside her.  She leaned further
into him as he kept up the new motion, bringing her deftly to her orgasm.
She shook her head and pressed her legs together as her climax took her, a
small mewling sound trapped deep in the back of her throat.  He kept his
thumb inside her as she tried to regain her composure, giving small flicks
that caused her to jump.

   He removed his hand and smeared her juices down her legs from her sex to
her knees, wetting her thoroughly.

   "Well," he asked her sitting back in his chair and some of the class
looked up, "did you get that?" She nodded her eyes pleading with him not to
send her back to her desk.  She was not sure that she could make it without
her knees giving way and beneath her skirt she was soaked.  She was sure
someone would see.

   "Yes sir," she said, pushing her hair back from her face.

   "Good," he said at last.  "look, the bell will be going soon do you
think you think you spend ten minutes and sort the store room out for me?
I've been meaning to do it for days."

   She nodded gratefully and walked unsteadily to the small room to the
left behind his desk.  "Oh, and by the way, are you free for half an hour
or so after school?  I need some help in the darkroom." Gwen glanced across
at Jackie and shrugged, she and Jackie usually walked home from school
together when she wasn't on "Photography Club" duty.  Jackie shrugged and
mouthed 'see you at home'.  Gwen nodded and disappeared into the storeroom.
Mr Keitel picked up her knickers from the floor and placed them in his
pocket and called the next pupil out.

   Five minutes later the end of day bell went and the class stampeded from
the room.  Mr Keitel gave them a minute or two to make sure no one returned
for any forgotton item before he locked the door and drew down the door
blind.  He opened the stockroom door.  Gwen was standing there waiting for
him.  She had taken her school tie off and was undoing her blouse, her
shoes and socks were already discarded.  "You bastard," she said laughing,
"I thought I would never make it."

   He pulled her knickers from his pocket.  "These belong to you?" he asked
and held them out.  She reached for them but he held them to his nose and
inhaled, "Yep, they are yours alright." She laughed and tried to grab them
from him but he caught her and ran his hand up under her skirt.  He slipped
his fingers inside her and she groaned.  "God but you are a sexy little
bitch," he said burying his fingers deeper.

   She laughed and tried to squirm away but he held her close.  "Not so
fast," he grinned and with an arm around her he picked her off her feet,
his fingers inside her.  She cried out and held onto him as he carried her
to his desk.  He deposited her on top of the desk and stepped away.  Gwen
shook her head trying to recover her breath.  "Now strip," he ordered.

   She looked at him as he took off his jacket and loosened his tie.  He
slowly unbuttoned his shirt as she watched him.  "I'm not going to tell you
again," he said quietly, "Stand up and strip." She pushed herself upright
and rose unsteadily to her feet, standing high on the top of his desk.  He
reached into one of the drawers and pulled out his camera.  "I said strip,"
he said again and began to circle the desk, taking photos of her as he
went.

   "Strip," he said louder and she began to pull her clothes off, turning
to keep facing him as he circled her.  First her blouse came off, then
reaching behind her, her bra, the camera continued to click as he watched
her breasts softly bounced on her chest.  "

   And the rest," he said motioning with the camera at her skirt.  With a
shrug the garment followed the rest of her clothes and then suddenly she
was standing there naked, towering over the classroom.  The camera whirred
loudly in the silence of the empty classroom, recording the naked girl for
posterity.

   "Now spread your legs," he instructed, "and show them what you've been
giving me." He indicated at the empty classroom with his head.  Gwen looked
up and her eyes narrowed excitedly, in her mind the classroom was suddenly
peopled with ghostly students, her classmates, all watching her closely,
smiling and pointing as she gyrated lewdly on the desk.  She looked around
and licked her lips nervously.  "Go on," he said, his voice harsh in the
echoing room, "show them everything."

   She hesitated for a moment, suddenly bashful before the imaginary crowd
and then suddenly she began to perform, displaying herself to her imaginary
friends, turning herself on, her breasts jutting proudly, her nipples
erect, her legs open and her sex clearly visible, her lips wet and pouting
between her legs.  "Good," he said, moving closer with his camera, shooting
straight up between her legs.  "Now turn around and give them a good look
at you."

   With trembling legs she turned to face the silent, enraptured crowd. 
"Play with your nipples" he called out and she cupped her breasts, her
fingers playing across her erect nipples.  "Pull them properly," he called
again, "show them what a little tart you've become," and again she followed
his instruction, pulling her nipples until she groaned.  "Turn around
again," he said and she did, turning her back to the classroom.

   He moved around behind her.  "Bend over and spread your cheeks for
them," he said and she hesitated.  "Did you not hear me," he asked his
voice lower.  "Bend over and spread your cheeks, let them see everything
you've got." She slowly bent forward and placing her hands behind her she
slowly spread her cheeks.  The camera clicked again and again.  She could
feel herself burning with embarrassment and shame, flooding with excitement
and arousal.  "Hold yourself open for them," he instructed, showing no
mercy, allowing her no escape and she reached lower and bending almost
double she spread the lips of her sex.  She could feel her juices flowing
down her thighs as the camera continued to whir away.

   He left her there for a moment and then he walked back around the desk
until he was facing her.  He discarded his trousers, shoes and socks en
route and stood there watching her dressed only in his underpants and
shirt. "Straighten up," he said at last and she did.  He pushed a chair
across to the desk and told her to get down.  She stepped down shakily and
faced him.  "You loved that didn't you?" he asked.  She looked down.  He
took her chin in his hand and bent her face up to his, "You loved it," he
repeated.

   "I was embarrassed," she said quietly, "I was afraid someone would see
what you were doing."

   He shook his head, "No, I watched your face, you loved it, you love the
idea of getting naked, having sex, in front of your classmates." She shook
her head and tried to look away but he held her face.  "Tell me you didn't
cum," he said.  "Just tell me that you didn't just cum in front of your
whole class," and she looked down.

   "When you just stood up there naked, with everything on show, you just
wished that they were all still out there, watching you perform, looking at
that sexy little body of yours."



   She shook her head again and in response he pushed her back against the
desk.

   "Get me out," he said and she immediately reached into the front of his
pants and pulled him out, he was already hard.  "Suck him," he ordered and
she fell to her knees in front of him and took him into her mouth, "suck
him now and let everybody see what you are doing." She closed her eyes and
began to fellate him.  He could already see the trail of moisture between
her legs.

   "They're watching you," he said and she shuddered, her eyes still
closed. "Open your legs," he said and she shuffled her knees apart, his
penis still in her mouth.  He looked down at her sex glistening wetly
between her legs.  "Play with yourself," he instructed, "make yourself cum
for them."

   She shook her head, "no", she said quietly.

   "Do it," he said again and her hand crept between her legs, she was
still sucking him off as her own fingers opened her sex, moving knowingly
between her own lips.  "Do it," he urged again and she shuddered as her
fingers slipped easily inside her own sex.  "Your clitoris," he instructed,
"play with your clitoris, make yourself cum."

   She leaned forward slightly, taking him deeper into her mouth as her
slick fingers found her clitoris and she groaned.  "Go on," he said, "make
yourself cum for them," and she opened her eyes almost fearfully.  "Go on,"
he said again, "they're all watching you, you bloody little exhibitionist.
Make yourself cum for them so they can all see you for what you really
are."

   She cried out as her fingers began to pick up speed, working herself to
her own climax.  He fell from her mouth as her senses concentrated on the
sensations between her legs.

   He bent down, watching her fingers manipulating her own clitoris.  "They
are watching you," he said, closer to her, "they can see what you are doing
to yourself." Her fingers moved faster, her eyes were closed.  She leaned
forward, placing a hand on the floor before her, her legs opening wider as
the first rush of her climax began.

   "Oh no," he said moving around behind her and pulling her back upright,
her legs wide open , her fingers moving rapidly between them, "let them see
what you are doing, let them see what a little slut you are." She cried out
and thrust her fingers deeper inside herself, her hips bucking as she
climaxed around them.

   He held her while she spasmed, her fingers working frantically inside
herself.  He held her while she bucked and screamed, her climax fierce and
raw.  Eventually she calmed and he let her slide to the floor.  He stroked
her hair as she curled quietly by his knee.  "Oh boy," he said softly,
"just think what would have happened had they really been there."

   ***

   The affair ended as precipitately as it had begun.  They finished the
school term and moved into the holiday period during which they met most
days and continued to make love as though each day was their last; and then
suddenly it really was.

   He did not appear for their next meeting nor the one after that.  He was
gone.  While she was not there his personal belongings disappeared from the
classroom including his camera equipment and their secret stash of
photographs.  She could not understand it, there was no word from him,
nothing; he had vanished as completely as if he had never existed.

   She cried for a while until she realised that the loss was physical
rather than emotional and after that she recovered with amazing rapidity.
Her mother realised something was wrong and tried to talk to her thinking
it was some schoolboy crush gone wrong.  Her mother took control deciding
that what she needed was a little TLC.

   There followed days in front of the TV on the couch downstairs with
endless cups of hot sweet tea laced with a dash of medicinal whiskey ; all
the while carefully avoiding the solicitous, veiled, questions about her
periods.  In truth it did seem work wonders and she was almost back on her
feet by the time school started again.

   During the new term science classes were taken by a roster of stand-ins
until a replacement could be organised.  Some grumbles were heard from the
teachers whose free periods had disappeared but the story that a sudden and
unavoidable family crisis had caused the unexpected and presumably
permanent loss of Mr Keitel to the school circulated and rapidly gained the
status of fact.

   Gwen continued as normal and soon the ache between her legs began to
recede or at least became manageable and she found herself once again
assuming her old roles of star scholar, sexual uninitiate and marginal
prude.  From swan back to ugly duckling, from butterfly back to chrysalis,
a flower waiting for the next burst of heat to awaken the dormant feelings
within.

   But she had the memories; and Jackie, sitting beside her in the
classroom, on the same old rickety wooden stools on which Gwen had posed
naked, would have been stunned if she could have for one moment touched
those thoughts that made Gwen smile during lessons or seen the mouthed
'green' as she imagined Mr Keitel smiling down at her from behind his desk,
his eyebrows raised in the unposed question as to the colour of her
underwear that day.

   ***

   Epilogue

   The headmaster had been standing against the window, framed by the
strong light, standing with his back to the room, looking out.

   "You sent for me Headmaster?" Mr Keitel said.

   "Come in John," he said without turning, "take a seat."

   John had taken a few steps into the room towards the headmaster's desk
before he stopped dead.  A series of photographs were spread out like a
deck of playing cards across the desk, the box they had been stored in
standing empty to one side.  He recognised the pictures instantly; they
were of Gwen, very intimate photos of Gwen.  He knew them because he had
taken them.  John sat down heavily in the chair provided and tentatively
touched a couple of the pictures; they had been turned to face him for
maximum impact.  Gwen's trusting and smiling face peered back at him; along
with numerous close up pictures of her body, of her nipples, breasts and
her sex.  John looked up at the headmaster who was still standing quietly,
staring out of the window as if at some distant sideshow.

   "Nothing to say?" the headmaster asked eventually, his voice as heavy
and slow as if dragged from some deep and .dark place.

   "Self explanatory really." John said shrugging his shoulders.

   "I had hoped, foolishly really, that there would be some other
explanation." the Headmaster offered quietly.

   "'Fraid not."

   There was a long silence before the headmaster said, "Then I need your
resignation John, effective today." John sat back and slightly
disorientated he looked around the Headmasters study for inspiration.  None
came.  "I will of course provide the usual references, don't worry on that
score.  I would not take your livelihood away from you."

   "Thank you Headmaster," John said, looking back to the photo's littering
the desk.  He shook his head in disbelief.  It was all so sudden and yet
all so inevitable.

   John stood up to leave, "Will you get a replacement in time for next
term?" he asked.

   "That, I'm afraid, is now my problem.  Not yours."

   John nodded and shook his head again.  "I will clear my things and be
gone today," he said turning for the door.

   "Thank you John." John turned to leave but the Headmaster spoke again,
"John?"

   John turned and looked at the Headmasters back.  "Yes Headmaster?"

   "Take them with you please." John looked a little confused until he
realised that the Headmaster meant the photos.  John began to gather them
up.

   The headmaster quietly waited, still without turning around.  John
finally closed the lid on the last picture.  He waited as if searching for
the correct words before realising that there weren't any and he turned and
walked to door.  He paused with his hand on the handle and finally the
Headmaster turned to look at him, his eyes were tired and immeasurably sad.
"John?" He said quietly.

   "Headmaster?" John responded, unable to look him in the eye.

   "Are there any others?"

   "Others?" John asked, confused, thinking for a moment that he meant the
photos.

   "Girls." The Headmaster said quietly.

   John shook his head as realisation dawned, "No Headmaster, no others. 
One is enough."

   The Headmaster paused and searched his face for a moment before turning
around to face the window again.  "Thank you John," he said with obvious
relief.

   John stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

   The headmaster stood quietly for a long time, his head bowed, looking
unseeing out of the window.  He removed his glasses and tiredly rubbed his
eyes.  He shook his head sadly.  Slowly he replaced his glasses with a sigh
and sitting down he spread his hands tentatively on the desktop as if
somehow unsure of how it would feel.  With a deeper sigh he sat back in his
chair and stared at the closed door through which John had just left.  The
school was empty and quiet.  Slowly he opened the top draw of his desk.  He
withdrew an A4 colour print and looked at it.  It was Gwen, naked, sitting
on a stool in the science lab.  She was leaning back on one elbow and
smiling straight at the camera.  Her titian hair framed her young face. 
Her half lidded eyes had that satiated look and he knew that she had just
had sex.

   He looked closely at her sex, glistening clearly between her legs below
her soft triangle of red pubic hair and he could almost swear that he could
see John's seamen seeping our between her wet and ready lips.  He could
smell the sex on her.  She was truly beautiful at that moment, the perfect
young woman, a heady mixture of innocence and overt sexuality.  Her
burnished breasts were tipped by wonderful hard distended nipples which
cast strong shadows in the bright sunlight.  He looked carefully and could
discern the red finger marks on her beautiful breasts where John had
suckled them deep into his mouth, his hands pulling the beasts forward in
his excitement.  He could almost see that beautiful young body aching up in
ecstasy as John took her.  He placed the picture on his desk and pulled
another photo from the drawer and looked at it.

   The second photo was a black and white print, a close up Gwen, taken
from above during the act of fellatio.  She was looking up at the camera as
she held Mr Keitel's penis in her mouth.  He could see the wet shaft as she
sucked on the end like a child with a lollipop, her cheeks concave, her
posture intent.  Her hand gripped the base of his shaft to control his
movement, her fingers splayed out into his pubic hair; the whole an
extremely graphic depiction of wanton sex, of luscious, deplorable, wet and
wonderful deprivation.

   But it was her eyes that drew and eventually held his attention.  She
was looking up at him, gazing back into the camera.  He could not draw his
eyes away from hers, drowning in the deep black of her iris, gazing into
the abyss, innocence and lust mixed in equal measure.  Her sexuality blazed
deep within her, burning into his soul and he knew with a certainty that
rocked his very foundations, that there was no coercion in this act, that
this was where she had wanted to be, this is what she wanted to do, to
swallow his penis and his sperm, it was her choice.  No force had been
used; she was simply committing the act because she wanted to.

   He looked again, her dark iris's continued to draw his gaze; and he
realised that there was something else deep in the darkness, down amongst
the carnality and the lust, a heady and wild joy, an unbridled freedom that
came complete with the act itself, the freedom born of willing and
passionate sex.

   He shook his head tiredly He would retire in a year or so.  His sexual
experience was limited.  The look in Gwen's eyes had shaken him to his
core. He had never known this feeling, never guessed it even existed.  He
felt as though life had passed him by and suddenly he felt very old.

   The Headmaster sighed and rubbed his eyes again before returning his
attention back to the first picture and Gwen smiled happily back at him. 
She was obviously relaxed with the photographer, quite possibly in love
with him; and she was certainly used to being naked in front of him and of
being photographed naked by him.  She looked breathtakingly beautiful.  He
sat studying the picture of the naked girl for a long time, taking in every
inch of her young body.  He knew her, he saw her every day, he had known
her since her first day at school; and now he knew he had never known her
at all.

   Sitting back he slowly reached down below the level of his desk.  He
carefully unbuttoned himself before he reached in and pulled out his semi
erect shaft; exactly the same as he already done twice that morning.