"The twins and teacher" - читать интересную книгу автора (Graham Alberta)

CHAPTER SEVEN

"What do you brats want now?" Emma Worthington did not bother to hide her extreme dislike of the Larsen twins. Why should she? It was clear they were over-privileged, smart-mouthed little brats, spoiled rotten! The fact that she knew they managed to pull the wool over practically every teacher's eyes in the entire school only added to her desire to treat the boys with the ill-humor she felt they truly deserved.

"Teachers' pets!" she thought ruefully, thinking of all the special privileges that she knew the twins had received since they'd been at the school.

Tim and Bennie looked askance at the school principal's secretary. They were each thinking that the time had come for an all-out war between them. Nobody got away with calling them brats… not to their faces anyway, and Miss Worthington was no exception.

"We'd like to see Mr. Armstrong, please," Tim said politely, taking in Miss Worthington's pinched features, the drab, colorless hair piled atop her head, still containing a shade of red that hinted at a prettier color in days gone by. Her spreading figure might have been good once, but lack of exercise and overeating had sent it to the borderline, and certain parts of her once trim hips spread opulently over the edge of her chair, despite the long-line girdle that she wore.

"AGAIN?" Miss Worthington cried. "You boys just can't keep on coming up here like this. Mr. Armstrong is the principal of this school. He's a very busy man. He hasn't got time to keep answering your questions!"

The secretary's voice became so shrill that a shadow appeared at the ripple-glass door that had the word "Principal" neatly lettered on it. Brad Armstrong peered outside and looked questioning and, the boys thought, disapprovingly at his secretary.

"What on earth is the trouble, Miss Worthington?" he asked. Then spotting the twins who were standing with their hands politely clasped behind their backs, he realized what the commotion was. "Oh! It's you boys again," he said. "Well, come on in. I've got a second to spare."

Triumphantly the Larsens marched past Miss Worthington, and just before closing Mr. Armstrong's door, Bennie, who was the last inside, turned to flash a brilliant smile at the thirty-five year old secretary. Emma spluttered and returned to her typing. The nerve of them, she thought indignantly.

Brad Armstrong turned to face his freshman students, once he'd returned to his position behind his desk. He cleared his throat and tried to look benevolent.

"I told you two that I'd let you know as soon as I have word about Miss Appleton's return. More than that I cannot do!"

"But she was due to be gone only a month!" Tim said, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Yes… well she called in to ask for an extension of that time, and she could be gone for as long as another month." Armstrong said with an annoyed tone. He was sick of them coming to ask about their teacher. Obviously a schoolboy crush, and in Miss Appleton's case, thoroughly justified. She was probably out there getting herself screwed silly every night, he thought, and the very idea of it irked him no end. All he was getting these days was Emma Worthington, and his interest in his secretary was beginning to decline, to say the least, since those first days several years before when she had been a "semi-beautiful" young woman, a virgin, whom he had delighted in debauching. But even debauchery with Miss Worthington had its limits and there were only a limited number of things she could be counted upon to do.

Besides, her giggling at crucial moments was beginning to get on his nerves.

"Now run along children… just run along. And I don't want to see you here again, unless it's for a good reason!" Unceremoniously, Brad ushered the disconsolate teenagers out of his office, and Miss Worthington looked smug as they passed her desk.

Once back in their room, the boys lay brooding on their twin beds.

"We've gotta do something about them," Tim finally said, breaking the long silence.

"Yep," Bennie agreed, knowing perfectly well that his brother was referring to Mr. Armstrong and his ugly secretary. Scotsdale boys were never referred to as children, for one thing. The accepted term was "men" or "young men". Their principal's reference to the teenagers as children only proved something the boys had long suspected about the grey-haired head of the school. He was insincere, and pompous, unfit to be the head of Scotsdale School. What was more, no one had called either of them a "brat" since their father's former wife, "old Carolyn", and they knew what they'd done to her! She was the ex-Mrs. Larsen before the marriage was two months old, but not before she had endured the most stringent of tribulations with the twins under the influence of the formula. Tim and Bennie still chuckled when they thought of their former stepmother and the family dog, Shep. Certainly Shep would never forget the first and perhaps only female human being he'd had the good fortune to mate with! Then there was Carolyn and her girlfriend. Shit, that had been most interesting to see, when the boys made sure that both girls got a good dose of their special aphrodisiac sauce in the daiquiri mix. Both the adolescents were pleased about the resulting divorce. That had been their only goal; after all, they'd not wanted to ruin the pretty blonde adultress' entire life, only her life with their father. All their actions were justified they felt by Carolyn's naturally lascivious nature. The way they'd caught her carrying on with that magazine salesman. And right in the kitchen of their own house! Yes, they were both proud of how they'd made things turn out then, and the silence between the boys now was an indication that they felt that certain measures needed to be taken again!

It was very difficult being without their dear Miss Appleton, and especially hard since they'd heard not a word from the charming twenty-three year old since her departure from the school over a month ago. The fact that she was staying away beyond the period of her original leave was alarming to say the least. Dealing with people like Mr. Armstrong and Miss Worthington only made life that much more horrible and frustrating. Yes, definitely something would have to be done. After all, it wasn't only a question of honor… it was a question of amusement!

After the supper that evening the boys began to plot out their latest plan. A surge of excitement reanimated their innocent-looking faces as they set to work again. Soon, things would be jumping again!

Emma Worthington set the tray down on her desk for a brief moment when she heard her name being called from outside her office. She'd been on her way inside with it, having fetched it from the cafeteria at the usual time: 10:15 a.m. Brad always wanted his coffee then, and Emma was particularly sure to stir in the correct amount of sugar and cream herself. The coffee ritual was very important to the faithful secretary because this was most frequently the time when her boss would be in need of her services… her "other" services.

She stepped outside into the hall, puzzled that someone would be calling her out there. Who on earth could it be. Outside she saw no one, and deciding that it must have been her imagination she returned to the tray on her desk.

Just one last look in her compact mirror before she entered Brad's office, and she would be ready. She didn't want the coffee to be cold, after all!

Emma tugged a bit on her long-line girdle. They weren't supposed to ride up, but for some reason hers did. Hopefully she would soon be removing it… hopefully Brad would be in a loving mood that morning!

The faded redhead tapped lightly on the inner office door and then entered, bearing the small tray with its coffee. The principal was seated behind his desk, reading a book. Emma admired the older man for a moment before he looked up. He was so studious, she thought, so scholarly!

When the silver-haired principal looked up, Emma smiled her best smile and chirped. "Here it is… piping hot, and just the way you like it!" Emma blushed when she felt her boss' eyes lingering at the level of her well-developed breasts. She was glad she'd gone out to that sale the day before even though it had been raining pitchforks, to get one of those cross-your-heart bras. It had done wonders for her full breasts, and she felt sure Brad was noticing now.

"Thank you, Emma," he said in his deep baritone. Such a lovely speaking voice he had. Emma never failed to be thrilled at the graduations and other occasions when Brad got up to speak.

"Is there… anything else I can do for you?" she asked, almost shyly. How good it would feel, his wonderful male hardness surging into her belly! His warm encouraging words of tenderness… intimate words that he would use when touching her where no one had ever touched but him! It would be especially good today, Miss Worthington felt… especially good since she was so much in a mood… a romantic mood!

"No… no, that will be all for the moment, Emma. Thank you very much."

Emma could hardly believe her ears, and yet she returned Brad's pleasant smile and exited from the office in a suitably humble manner. Yet as she sat back down at her desk, the thirty-five year old secretary felt crushed. Her boss was definitely losing interest in her, and their exciting secret meetings were becoming less and less frequent, and she was beginning to see the writing on the wall. It was all the more distressing therefore when the intercom buzzed and Brad Armstrong's voice came booming out. "The coffee is lousy, Emma! Did you make it yourself or something?"

All of her protests were to no avail. The coffee, as far as she knew, was the same that the cafeteria always made. She offered to get him another cup, but he told her no thanks, he'd finish it anyway, even though it was sickeningly sweet and disgusting.

Emma was crestfallen. She knew that she had put the same amount of sugar in that she usually did… exactly one and a half lumps. Whatever had gone wrong was certainly not her fault, but Brad would never believe that, and somehow Emma sensed that their entire clandestine relationship had been ruined by the particularly unfortunate mistake.

She sat despondently at her desk, listlessly typing some reports for the next parent-teachers' meeting. She had to have at least one advance copy ready by 11:30 when the head of the association was due to stop by to discuss the upcoming meeting with Mr. Armstrong.

Mrs. James Stilton III had her chauffeur wait downstairs. Then she briskly walked up the impressive stairway of the main building of the Scotsdale School for Boys. Her own son was a senior there, and due to graduate that June. It would be her last year as head of the Parent-Teachers' Association, but as with everything, Jennifer Stilton planned on doing an excellent job. Her slender figure and soft pretty features belied the fact that she was a woman past 35, a woman older than Miss Emma Worthington for example, who could have easily passed for Jennifer's mother. It was not only the money that helped. Good genes, helpful beauty hints passed on from her own beautiful mother… all these things made Jennifer Stilton the most sought after young matron in the Sacramento Valley area. Her son Edward, nicknamed Slim because of his slender lanky form, was not exactly an honor student at the school, but neither had he disgraced himself in anyway, and for this Mrs. Stilton was grateful in this age of adolescent strife. She was pleased to have chosen Scotsdale School for her son, and glad that her judgment had proven valid. Mr. Stilton had little to do with his family, being far too busy most of the time running his interlocking corporations and expanding them so eventually they had become a mysterious international cartel. So just about every facet of home life was left to Jennifer, and the attractive dark-haired woman was proud of the strength and talent she'd shown in these fields.

Sometimes it was a bit lonesome, being isolated by both her beauty and her money from others, especially since she found these wealthy people who were most nearly in her income bracket to be a good deal older than she, and for the most part boring as paint. Reading was Jennifer's primary source of true pleasure when it got down to it, despite the gala balls, the box at the opera, the attentive homosexual escorts. Curling up with chocolates, and her records playing, and a good best seller, was her idea of real relaxation.

In fact, Mrs. Stilton thought as she made her way to Mr. Armstrong's office, she would much rather be at home at this very moment than going to see the principal of her son's preparatory school. However it had to be done, and Mrs. Stilton would do it cheerfully, and of course, she would do it well.

"Good morning, Mrs. Stilton!"

Just before entering the outer office, Mrs. Stilton passed the cutest set of twins she'd ever seen. She replied, wondering just how they knew her name. She didn't believe that they were friends of her son; they were quite a bit younger, or at least appeared to be. The wealthy socialite had forgotten that her picture had been published in the weekly student paper, and that her impending visit had incidentally been mentioned. What nice boys, she thought as she closed the door behind her and encountered the glum countenance of Miss Worthington.

"Good morning. Mr. Armstrong is expecting you, Mrs. Stilton. You may go right in."

Emma glowered at Jennifer's back as the other woman entered Brad's office. How she hated that woman, with that figure and every hair in place and that perfume and those legs and those clothes that Emma would never be able to wear. God, she was annoying! Just the fact that women like her existed was enough to ruin Emma Worthington's day, if she chanced to think of it. It was similar to her feeling for Miss Appleton, Emma thought as she glared at the closed office door. Except that Miss Appleton was at least a working woman like herself, and not born or married rich! Nevertheless, there was a disturbing similarity in Emma's feelings toward both attractive women, and just as she hated a certain look that Brad got in his eye when he looked at the pretty young teacher, she hated the similar, though more guarded look that he got when he looked at Mrs. Stilton. How long since he had looked at her that way? It had been several years, and it seemed forever!

Tim Larsen looked at his watch. "It should be fully activated by now."

"Great!" Bennie replied. He'd been the one to call Miss Worthington's name in the hall, while his twin brother, already hiding in the outer office, had easily slipped a good portion of their special "formula" into Mr. Armstrong's coffee.

Now it was only a matter of waiting to see what would happen. Whatever happened, though, the twins were sure that they could and would turn it to their advantage!

Inside the office, Brad Armstrong paced nervously up and down. He'd been perspiring heavily for several minutes, and now he felt suddenly cold. There was another disturbing factor too. He had a raging erection. Now that Mrs. Stilton had arrived, Brad quickly sat down behind his desk again to prevent the influential matron from seeing. But God, how he longed to rub his stiff and throbbing member! For some reason he was having trouble focusing on Mrs. Stilton's patrician features. Yet, he knew from memory how she looked. She was probably one of the most beautiful women in California, he thought now, his mind racing feverishly, while his lips struggled to carry on a conventional conversation… about what? The disturbed principal wasn't even sure… oh yes, about the coming PTA meeting, and the topics that would be presented to the members of the association.

But instead, Brad thought about Mrs. Stilton's thighs, and how they would wrap tightly about his neck while he plundered the deep passage of her unresisting pussy, how she would moan and call his name, and just exactly what it would feel like to be fucking Mrs. James Stilton III!

Christ… what a thought!

"Is… uh something wrong, Mr. Armstrong?" Jennifer noted that the principal's eyes appeared to be glazed and he was staring at her in the most peculiar way. He appeared to be looking directly at the modest cleavage of her blue silk blouse, and from the look on his face, Jennifer wondered if something might be wrong… that is, if he could see anything out of the ordinary there.

Nervously her fingers went to her breast, lingered a second and then fell back to her lap. What an odd man!

"N-No, nothing's wrong," Brad stuttered. "I mean… it's you… it's just you!"

"I don't quite understand!"

Brad's head was whirling. He had to stand up, his aching cock was so constricted that he could no longer remain seated. Without even thinking, the drugged man precipitated his substantial form around the desk, coming very close indeed to Mrs. Stilton's chair.

"You are without a doubt the most beautiful woman in California!" he blurted out, and his sudden lunge toward Mrs. Stilton made her topple over sideways in her chair.

"Help!" she gulped, "Oh help!" But the drugged principal couldn't stop now. He had to cover those perfect lips with his own… to stifle the sounds that came from them and also to savor the sweet taste within.

As she struggled blindly with Armstrong's superior strength, Jennifer's thoughts ran wild. "My God, he's a maniac… he's going to kill me!" She'd always had a terrible fear that something might happen to her, and now it was happening! What could she do? What would save her?

"I've got to have you… got to have you!" Armstrong cried. "No matter what!"

Jennifer felt as though she were going to faint at any second. Weakly, she rolled her head back and forth in protest, and then his mouth was glued to hers, his tongue sliding wetly between her lips, past the barrier of her small white teeth.

Sex… all he wanted was sex… she thought… he would not kill her if she gave in! Sex had never played an important part in Jennifer Stilton's aristocratic life. In fact she rarely indulged in it these days, what with her husband away so often, and then when he was home, it was usually such a bother… for both of them really. But Jennifer was not about to let an inconsequential thing like sex stand between her and life! Given the choice, which she honestly believed to be the fact at this moment, she would gladly choose sex!

It was far from comforting, nevertheless, when the president of the Parent-Teachers' Association felt the school principal's hand tracing up the soft hot flesh of her inner thighs, lewdly pushing her dress up with it and exposing her stocking-clad legs to the air. Jennifer's breath caught in a strangled gasp in her throat as Armstrong's fingers slid quickly inside the elastic band of her panties, and without further ado parted the sensitive hair-fringed lips of her vagina, slipping into its hot wetness and moving disturbingly upward to find the soft inner lips surrounding her clitoris.

Jennifer froze, feeling the horrid intrusion of this man's fingers in her secret flesh, her private world, and finally she came to life again to squirm and struggle with renewed vigor against what was happening. She raked her long well-kept fingernails against his face, drawing blood.

Brad was enraged by the pain Mrs. Stilton had caused him, and the drug coursing through his system made him make a sudden decision. It was as though it were a matter of life and death to him, possessing this woman! "Damn you… you snooty bitch!" he cried, "I'll fuck you and I'll fuck you good!"

"You animal… you…"

But Brad reached out, catching Jennifer's wrists and holding them fast, throwing his entire weight on top of her and almost crushing her with his heavy body, until she could not move a muscle. The principal emitted a low growl and reached down between their struggling bodies to hook his fingers into the wispy material of her panties and rip them away with one jerk.

"My secretary's gone to lunch by now," he hissed down into the socialite's terrified face. "You can howl all you want. Nobody's gonna rush in here until we're through!"

"Oh God… no! Please let me go… don't do it to me… how can you? How CAN you?" The wealthy socialite pleaded, hot tears of fear and shame streaming down her cheeks as the principal grabbed her roughly, slipping her skirt upward until it was over her hips and bunched up around her waist. The full ripeness of her voluptuously formed thighs, the soft dark triangle of pubic hair covering her small and trembling pussy, and the flatness of her quivering white belly – all were nakedly revealed to the principal's lurid gaze. Then the horrified woman felt the older man fumbling with his pants and saw them slide away down his hips, and she caught a glimpse of his thick hard penis brandished in his hand.

She closed her eyes against the thought. Rape! She was going to be raped!

He was forcing his knees roughly between her fear-tensed legs, spreading her thighs unmercifully as he guided his lust-engorged member forward. Shoving her long slender legs behind the knees to raise them high from the floor of his office, he used the thick rubbery head of his urgently pulsing cock to part the soft fleshy lips of her vulnerable cunt.

Jennifer tossed her head wildly, thinking of her husband… of the first night he'd made love to her, some twenty years before. How crude he'd been, how ugly! It had taken other subsequent lovers in the early years to teach her about sex, to show her how good it could be. This… this was just like Jim. Just like the terror of her wedding night when she'd been a virgin!

"Oooohhhh, dear God!" she gasped. She shuddered with horror as she felt the soft electrical contact against the sensitive edges of her tightly clenched pussy. Jennifer held her breath for what seemed an eternity, petrified in utter subjugation under the principal of her son's school. Then there was the first hard pressure of his blood-heated cock against the tight elasticity of her vaginal lips.

"Oooohhhhh," she moaned as he pushed and the thick knobby tip slipped through. Above her she could see his face, twisted into a grin of sheer raw lust, as though he could barely stand it any longer.

"Oh Jesus!" he blurted. "I've got to fuck you quick!"

Before he'd finished the words, Brad Armstrong had come down heavily upon the hopelessly trapped matron, thrusting his hips forward with the same motion, sending his long raging penis sliding mercilessly upward into the soft moist flesh of Jennifer's vaginal walls, moving onward until with a loud groan, the principal's hanging testicles slapped heavily into the upturned cheeks of her fear-clenched buttocks.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" the dark-haired socialite cried. Never had she been taken against her will like this… even with her husband, she had consented to his insensitive love-making. Now she was filled with a near-stranger's surging penis, she was speared by the chunky knob of its fleshy tip, and now its desire-bloated shaft lay sunk deep in her helpless belly, filling every part of her insides with fury. There was not one tiny ridge of Armstrong's hotly pressuring cock that she could not feel pressed tightly against the soft tender walls of her defenseless pussy.

Stunned by his own success, Brad lay unmoving for a brief moment, his face directly above hers. He had conquered Jennifer Stilton!

"Christ!" he muttered feverishly, his eyes wild with lust, "How many times I've thought about this! How many times I've wondered about your sweet little pussy… your gorgeous cunt!" As if to emphasize his words he throbbed the tip of his penis deep inside, letting it jerk maddeningly within the trapped PTA president's wide-stretched vagina.

"Nnnnnooooo," she moaned, the cords in her neck standing out from the pressure of her resistance.

"Don't you like it? Don't you like it?" the principal cried, grinning down at her in dazed and drugged delight. "Tell me you like it… God, it feels good! I know it's got to be feeling good for you too!"

"Yes… yes…" Jennifer cried, afraid to offend this madman, lest he truly hurt her, maim or kill her. Anything was better than that! She thought of her house, of her son, even of her husband. The tickets for the theatre she had that night, her chauffeur outside waiting with the sleek gray car. She wanted to return to all of that! She wanted to live!

"Tell me… beg me for it then!" Brad hissed down at her. This was a little game he enjoyed playing even in more normal circumstances with his secretary. He loved forcing Emma Worthington to plead with him, once he'd gotten it inside her. He'd leave it motionless until she was going wild for a good fucking. But this… this was far more exciting, far more stimulating, and although Brad couldn't even recall just how he'd gotten into this intimate position with the beautiful and poised society mother, he knew that he had to play it out to the glorious end!

"Whhhhhaaaat?" Jennifer breathed. "I… I don't understand!"

"You understand… I said beg me for a good lay. Ask me to screw your pussy good!" He thrust downward, creating a searing white pain deep inside of her quivering belly.

"Please… please have mercy. Please!" Jennifer tossed her dark shining hair from side to side. She could feel tears of humiliation sliding down her face. She was so helpless, so alone!

"Do it… do it!" The incensed principal slammed down onto Jennifer Stilton's softly yielding body, his teeth grinding together as he felt her shuddering against him, the inner muscles of her tightly clasping cunt rippling involuntarily.

"Screw… screw… SCREW ME!" she cried suddenly, through clenched teeth, tears inundating her cheeks as she hissed out the lewdly degrading words. She was feeling the utter depths of degradation. All of her self-respect was being stripped away in this one hideous moment. What was left? Nothing… nothing but to get it over with as quickly as possible. As she gave up her last remaining ounce of resistance, the fine-figured matron could feel him clamping his wet mouth hotly against hers. Between her spread-apart thighs, the agony of her soft sensitive flesh being ground into by his quickening strokes made her groan out loud.

She would show him! the aristocratic Mrs. Stilton thought wildly. She would finish it, and defeat him in the process. Nobody conquered Jennifer Stilton! Nobody! A wave of defiance seemed to spring from the very depths of despair. The mere thought of what she was about to do sent chills along the base of her spine; and she felt the unsuspecting principal of the school commence a slow rhythm as his probing cock skewered wetly into her. The straining socialite's whole being began to twist and writhe beneath him, and she began to moan incessantly up into the obscene moisture of his mouth, shoving her tongue furiously and with deep abandon down his throat, feigning mewls of animalistic acceptance, a light film of perspiration burst out on her forehead as Jennifer felt his hands slipping down over the naked curves of her hips and sliding beneath the soft smooth mounds of her undulating ass-cheeks. Cupping them harshly with each hand, Brad began to thrust with greater frenzy.

Jennifer thought of the beautiful young Mexican lover she'd taken down in Acapulco. Yes, it had been entirely her decision. A decision she made in the hot noon of the sun, there on the beach. How many years ago had it been. No matter… it was clear in her mind, every last detail of it! The deep brown of his skin and the coal-black hair and eyes, a body firm and muscular that spoke of his youth. Eighteen, perhaps nineteen. She'd never known for sure. She'd left her husband home napping and gone to meet him down by the azure sea, in the astounding heat, her crocheted bathing suit touching at the nakedness of her body beneath. She could taste what it would be like before it happened, and during the long passionate moments, she had lived a thousand lifetimes. The way he rose above her while she drank in the marvel of his sun-bronzed body, broad chest and slender waist and hips, his hair long and falling in his eyes until he was back upon her and within her, the hardness of him forcing her to melt, a total animal, cumming again and again around the shattering piston of his driving masculinity.

Yes, she had been loved and loved well. Jennifer would always have that memory, no matter what. She would have that despite all the pettiness of her daily life of the moment, and perhaps one day she would choose to have it again. For something was beginning to change inside her, she knew. No longer would she be as sensually calm and composed as she had been recently. Now that she was enduring this gross attack, she would use this to make her a better woman.

Lasciviously, Brad Armstrong flexed and unflexed his fingers on the firm white flesh of Jennifer Stilton's exposed buttocks. He jerked her harder against his thrusting loins and made her pull her thighs back a little more, spreading the moist wet aperture of her hair-trimmed cunt to his eagerly thrusting penis.

But for Jennifer the maddening pain, and humiliation was passed now, and her lithe legs on either side of the principal's impaling cock-shaft were jerking and quivering in an abandon that she had no wish to control. She was with the boy Juanito again, and the beautiful dark-haired woman closed her eyes, slavering her tongue up into his mouth, as low hums of satisfying pleasure rumbled deep in her throat. She writhed lewdly under his massive body, aroused by the fervency of her feeling. There was no longer any thought but the delicious sensation of lying beneath this boy, this incredibly beautiful boy, who was fucking her so well as she gave back to him what he gave to her!

She could feel Juanito slaving above her, moving suddenly into longer, smoother strokes that drew his lovely lust-hardened cock nearly out of her clasping vagina on the backstroke, and then plunging forward into her uplifted ass-cheeks again until she felt the harsh slap of his sperm-swollen balls against the crevice of her anus. Instead of the coarse rug of the principal's office, she felt the shifting sand of the sheltered cove there on the beach. Instead of Brad Armstrong's lustfully ugly features, she could see the dark brown Mexican boy.

The thought raised further mewling and moaning from her chest and the PTA president began twisting and squealing wantonly under the ravishment of her nakedly widespread loins.

"That's more like it!" Brad panted lewdly, "Fuck back, fuck back!"