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Note: all characters engaging in sexual activities are over the age of 18.
Linda Farrell ran her palm across the poster, smoothing it out before she pushed the final two pins into the bottom corners. It was a rather detailed rendering of a spaceship traveling through a field of stars, surrounded by a cluster of math-related symbols that hung suspended in the vacuum of space. She had a whole series of similar illustrations. A fighter jet, a submarine, a physician and a very pretty veterinarian were all featured on different posters surrounded by math symbols or equations. The message she hoped they conveyed to her seventh- and eighth-grade students was that knowing math was an integral part of some very cool jobs, and not boring or useless.
She stepped back, eyeing the poster to ensure it was straight, and then slowly turned, casting a critical eye across her new classroom, which she had spend the past 90 minutes decorating and arranging to her satisfaction. As she did so, she noticed the clock mounted on the rear wall, strategically positioned so she could see it from her desk while her students could not without turning around. It read ten till noon and, as if confirming that it was indeed almost lunchtime, her stomach gave off a loud growl. She thought for a second and then fished out the school phone list from the mass of paperwork she had received at that morning’s new teacher orientation. It listed the extensions of all the classrooms including the assigned teacher’s name. She was pleased to see that her and her three new colleagues were already listed.
They had started several days prior to the start of the fall term at the Hindale Junior Academy, one of the area’s premier private schools, so that they could get settled in and learn their surroundings. The rest of the staff would arrive the following Monday, and students would return for classes two days later. Since the school was mostly empty now and the atmosphere somewhat informal, they had been told they could leave for lunch whenever they wanted. Picking up the phone wired to her desk, Linda first dialed Chris Wilson, the new history teacher. It rang several times, and Linda pictured him staring at the handset, wondering who might be calling him.
“Hello, this is Chris,” said a man’s voice, sounding puzzled and uncertain.
“Hey Chris, it’s Linda, your fellow newbie. I was wondering if you had lunch plans.”
“No, I’m open,” he replied. “Have any place in mind?”
“No, I thought we could all meet back in the parking lot at noon,” Linda said. It was a convenient meeting place because they were all parked next to each other. By an odd coincidence, they had arrived at exactly the same time, forming a four-car caravan as they turned into the school’s long driveway and proceeded around the main building to the faculty/staff parking lot. If they had been driving black sedans, it would have looked like an FBI raid.
“Sounds good. See you there.”
Once he had hung up, Linda dialed the art room, where the youngest of the four, Peri Tanner, was based.
“Hi, Peri speaking,” she said in an enthusiastic, friendly tone. Linda explained why she was calling and the recent college grad agreed to meet them as well.
Finally, Linda called down to the gym for the final member of their little group, Meg Black, the new girls PE teacher.
“Hi Meg, it’s Linda, from this morning,” Linda said, in case Meg thought some other Linda might be calling.
“Oh hey, Linda, how’s it going? Getting settled in?”
“Yes, but I’m also getting hungry. Chris, Peri and I thought we’d go to lunch. Want to come along?”
Meg hesitated and frowned at the phone. “I would, but my husband is supposed to pick me up for lunch. Can I take a rain check?”
“Sure, but we’re all going to talk about you,” Linda said, laughing. “Tell you what, let me give you my cell number and if for some reason he can’t make it, call me and we’ll pick you up something.”
“That’s really nice,” Meg said. She jotted down the number and then thanked Linda again, asking that she pass on her greetings to the other two new teachers. After she hung up, she checked her phone to see if her husband had texted or emailed, but he hadn’t, so she returned to the inventory of gym equipment she was reviewing
Right at noon, her phone buzzed and she looked down to see a text message from her husband. ‘Babe, can’t make it. Last-minute client meeting. Sorry.’ She stared angrily at the words for several moments, clenching and unclenching her left fist, a habit she had developed to help control her temper.
“Fucking bastard,” she muttered. She wasn’t pissed that he waited until the last minute to tell her; she was pissed because she was certain that the client meeting in question was a nooner with another lawyer at his firm. She suspected he had been banging the hussy for the past three months. “Once the PI gets pics, you’ll be sorry,” she thought.
Meg waited for a few minutes, canlı bahis then called his firm and asked for Ellen, the hussy in question. She explained that she was a client with a pressing question, and understood that Ellen would be there over lunch. After a brief wait, the pleasant but apologetic sounding receptionist came back on and explained that Ellen had a last-minute client meeting come up and had to rush out of the office. Bingo, thought Meg, taking some small comfort from the fact that she wasn’t just being paranoid; no way had two emergency client meetings occurred simultaneously.
She briefly pondered calling Linda and meeting the other three for lunch, but realized that she now had no appetite and was too angry to make good company anyway. She sat at her desk for a few minutes, staring at the wall, and then decided to see what might be stocked in the building’s vending machines. When she got to them, she found the usual assortment of candy and snacks, a surprisingly unhealthy selection for a facility dedicated to physical fitness. She got a bag of chips and a soda, and then decided to head to the other end of the gym and see if her male counterpart was in his office.
Oscar Torres was a tall, muscular Latino in his early 30s, the same age as Meg, and had participated in the group interview with her that had been part of the hiring process. She thought he might be able to give her some tips on how to handle parent volunteers, as she had a 1:30 p.m. meeting with two mothers. At her previous school, there had been no such parent volunteer program, but she understood they would be especially useful in helping to coach the school’s athletic teams, and she had girls’ volleyball, basketball and soccer to oversee.
The boy’s locker room, to which Oscar’s office was adjacent, was located at the far end of the building from the girls’, and Meg passed numerous photos of athletic events and a couple of trophy cases as she walked along the long corridor that ran the length of the facility. She passed by the entrance to one of the school’s two gymnasiums and poked her head in for a quick look. There was no one in the cavernous room, though, and she was just about to continue on her way when an odd sound arrested her. It sounded like someone crying out, a quick loud yelp that seemed to come from the boy’s locker room, which opened up onto the gym at one end of the collapsible stands. She stood, listening intently for a second, and had just decided she’d imagined it when she heard a woman’s voice calling out loudly, but not so loud that Meg could make out the words.
Meg crept quietly toward the locker room door, not really certain why she was trying to be silent. She gently pulled the door ajar and instantly heard a woman moaning. More shocking was a second woman’s voice, urging someone to “fuck that whore good, baby.”
Her heart was pounding in her chest and she subconsciously held her breath while she listened. Acting almost on autopilot, she slid quietly through the door and tiptoed into the locker room. She remembered the layout of the room; it was identical to the girls, she recalled. That meant around the corner in front of her was the main changing area, complete with wooden benches and three U-shaped alcoves formed by rows of metal lockers, would be on her left. On her right, halfway down, was a wide entryway that led into the wet area, where the showers, sinks and toilets were located. And on the far end of the locker room was a smaller training room, which had a second door that opened onto Oscar’s office. She had one just like it off of her own office. Each had a futon, where injured or overheated students could rest, and a padded table on which students would sit or lie while having knees, elbows or arms taped. It seemed to her that this where the voices where coming from.
“Oh fuck Oscar, yeah, shove that cock in me,” a woman’s voice cried out.
“Come on, it’s my turn,” another woman’s voice interjected.
“Not yet Bree, please, I’m so close,” the first woman responded.
Oh my god, Meg thought. That must be Bree Vance, one of the mother’s she was scheduled to meet. She wondered if the woman getting fucked was Stacy Kern, the other mother. Clearly the man was Oscar Torres and they were having a lunchtime threesome in the training room. She knew she should turn around, possibly even report the incident. But her feet seemed to propel her forward of their own accord. And they weren’t the only body parts responding to the sounds coming from beyond the lockers. Her pussy was growing warm and her nipples ached beneath her bra.
Setting her food down on one of the benches, she slowly and carefully moved forward until she stood at the end of the last row of lockers. On the other side was the training room with its row of large, plate-glass windows. Meg took a deep breath, slowly inched to the edge of the lockers and carefully peered around. The lights in the small training room were on and its occupants bahis siteleri clearly visible.
A very attractive woman with large breasts and over-the-shoulder length light brown hair with blonde highlights sat on the end of the cushioned training table, her legs wrapped around the waist of a tall, athletic man with short, black hair. They were both naked and as Meg watched, Oscar Torres slowly and forcefully pumped his cock into the woman’s vagina. The woman was leaning back against another woman, a platinum blonde with very short hair who was sitting on the training table, legs tucked beneath her. She also appeared to be naked and both her arms were wrapped around the first woman, her hands playing with those magnificent breasts. The first woman, in between moans and expletive-filled demands for Oscar to fuck her harder and deeper, would turn her head and the two women would exchange almost violently lustful kisses.
Meg watched, entranced by the scene, her left hand shoved down into her tan Capri pants. She didn’t remember placing it there, but she also couldn’t stop rubbing her fingers up and down her own slit. Because the lights in the main locker area were dimmed, while the training room’s were on, it seemed as if none of the threesome could see her, but she took no chances, remaining hidden behind the lockers. After a minute or two, Oscar pulled out of the brown-haired woman and turned slightly. Meg almost gasped aloud in amazement. His cock looked at least eight inches long and thicker than any she’d ever seen.
She watched as Oscar stepped back and said whispered something to the women. The brown-haired woman swiveled so that they were now sitting next to each other. They began to passionately make out while playing with each other’s breasts and finger fucking one another. Oscar, she could see, was jerking himself off while he enjoyed the show. Bree had moved her mouth to suck on the other woman’s breasts, who had thrown back her head as she appeared to climax. When she did so, Oscar stepped forward, pulled Bree to the edge of the table and shoved his cock into her. Bree began alternating kisses between Oscar and the other woman, who had reached a hand down to Bree’s cunt. Meg assumed she was playing with the blonde’s clit, a belief seemingly born out when Bree began to buck wildly against Oscar and moan loudly. When her orgasm had passed, Oscar pulled out and took several steps back, one hand wrapped around the base of his thick cock, shiny with the mixed juices of the women.
“Now,” he barked so loud it echoed through the locker room, and the two women dropped to their knees in front of him, mouths opened wide. Meg watched, both repulsed and fascinated, as he gave two quick strokes of his cock and then a thick stream of creamy jizz gushed forth, coating first Bree’s face and then that of her friend. The two women immediately began licking the cum from each other, giggling like schoolgirls and swapping open mouthed kisses as they passed Oscar’s juices from one mouth to the other. Finally, their faces clean, they turned and began to lick and suck his now semi-hard cock clean. It looked like the ending of some porno scene, Meg thought.
“Okay, ladies, shower time, I think,” Oscar said.
Meg immediately ducked back and then turned and hurried away, sliding through the locker room door just as the lights in the locker area flashed on. Her face flushed, she walked quickly back to her office. Once inside, she strode straight through training room to the locker room and quickly to the closest toilet stall. Once inside, she pushed down her pants and panties and sank onto the toilet. She buried two fingers deep into her soaking pussy and began masturbating, her fingers sloshing loudly in the wetness of her cunt. In seconds, an orgasm ripped through her.
While Meg had been engrossed in the erotic lunchtime display, her three new colleagues had been enjoying lunch at a noodle restaurant a few blocks from school. Their first topic of discussion had been that morning’s orientation, at which they had spent more than an hour going through the policy and procedures manual and then, after a brief break, were treated to short presentations by certain support staff including the IT guy, the librarian, the facilities manager, and the school nurse.
“You ever have one of those moments where you’re sure you know someone, but you just can’t place them?” Chris asked as they were recounting the morning’s activities. “I’m sure I’ve met the nurse, but I can’t figure out from where.”
“Maybe she just looks like someone you know, or reminds you of an actress,” suggested Peri.
“Maybe,” he said doubtfully. “It’s going to bug me for the rest of the day, though, I’m sure of that.”
“Well, you’ll figure it out. Those kinds of things always come to you when you stop thinking about them,” Linda said.
They paused in their conversation to place their orders with the young Asian woman who had brought glasses bahis şirketleri of water and a pot of tea to their table. Chris and Linda watched her disappear into the kitchen, both independently reaching the conclusion that she had a really nice ass. Peri, who because of where she sat was unable to enjoy that view, poured all three of them small cups of steaming brown tea.
“Okay,” she said, bringing Chris and Linda’s attention back to the table, “is it just me, or is Isabella Jefferson really intimidating?”
Both Linda and Chris laughed and nodded in agreement. Isabella was the school’s vice principal in charge of, among other things, employee relations. It was she who had overseen the morning’s orientation. Isabella was a strikingly beautiful, six-foot tall Black woman with long, straight hair that hung well below her shoulders, a hard, muscular body and piercing dark eyes.
“She’s both very beautiful and very scary,” Linda confirmed. “And she has the perfect voice for her position, don’t you think?”
“Oh absolutely,” Chris agreed. Isabella’s voice was deep and melodious, capable of projecting a soothing calm sensation one minute and absolute icy coldness the next. “I would not want to get on her bad side, that’s for sure.”
“Well yes, but she also seems like she can be really nice as well,” Peri said, feeling that she ought to defend the woman, even though it was she who had raised the topic. “I bet she’s a good person to have as a friend.”
“Yes, I agree,” Chris said solemnly. “I do feel a little sorry for her assistant, Carol, though. She seems like a little mouse assigned to follow around the big, bad cat all day.”
The two women smiled at that. It was a fitting description for the diminutive woman with the plain dark-brown shoulder length hair, drab skirt and blouse, and meek appearance. She seemed to embody the concept of mousiness.
“Stearns seems cool as well,” Linda said, referring to Matthew Stearns, the other vice principal who had sat in on the early part of the orientation. He was a tall, lean man with salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes in a deeply tanned face. “Less intimidating but more aloof than Jefferson.”
“Yes, he seems alright, but I agree, he seems somewhat distant,” Chris said. “He came across that way during my interview with him as well.
“Have either of you met the famous Mr. Blackledge yet,” Peri asked.
“No and from what I heard from my friend, Danielle, who used to work here, we probably won’t, at least not often,” Linda said.
Joseph Blackledge was Hindale’s principal, a man who had gained a small amount of national attention for his book on education reform some years back. He had been hired as a figurehead of sorts, more responsible for burnishing the school’s image than for its actual oversight. He was frequently absent, meeting with donors, advertising the school, or lecturing at conferences.
“She doesn’t work here now?” Chris asked.
“No, she left Hindale to teach at the high school where I used to work. She’s out of teaching now,” Linda said.
“Why did you change, if you don’t mind my asking,” Peri said. “I always thought math would be one of those subjects that are more fun to teach in the upper grades. You can get more into the meat and bones, so to speak.”
“Because I’m a big believer in getting kids, especially young girls, hooked on math and science as early as possible. I found that by the time they got to high school, if they weren’t already at least somewhat interested, then they never would be,” Linda said.
Which was true, as far as it went; it just wasn’t the whole truth. That was her professional reason for the switch; the one she always gave when people asked her about it, as they had for the past several months. The personal reason, which had played just as big a role in her decision, was her love of sex.
Linda loved fucking. And her time teaching high school had been a constant temptation, all those nubile 17- and 18-year-old students with their raging hormones and their constant arousal. She had resisted as long as she could, turning to other staff and parents to fulfill her lust, but toward the end of her last semester teaching at Washington High, she had fallen. Not far, and not seriously, but fallen nevertheless. One afternoon, she had found herself in an unused office with the 18-year-old head cheerleader’s tongue in her mouth and the girl’s probing finger shoved up Linda’s wet pussy. They had been flirting with each other all year and when Linda had pulled the girl, a gorgeous redhead with massive tits, into the office to discuss her grade, one thing had led to another. They had fingered each other to orgasm, and Linda had typed up her resignation letter that night. She knew that once the dam had broken, she’d be unable to resist her urges. A gangbang with the senior football players was just around the corner if she didn’t act quickly.
Thankfully, Hindale had already called, recruiting her to join their math department. Teaching at a school for 1st through 8th graders was definitely safer and would allow her to instill a love of math and science at a stage in her students’ lives when it could really take hold.
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