Chapter 7
A half hour later, Mr. Wiggens sat back in his chair and smiled reassuringly at the girl who stood in front of his desk.
"Now don't be nervous, Betty," he said unctuously. "And don't for a minute think there's anything wrong. I want you to feel perfectly at home."
"I do, Mr. Wiggens," said Betty. She drew a deep breath and her perfect breasts swelled and strained against the tight fabric that restrained them. "I feel fine."
And indeed she did. For Betty was a healthy young animal with good digestion and vibrant with vitality. The session on the floor with Mr. McGruder a scant half hour before had filled her with good spirits and stimulated her. "I feel fine," she repeated.
"I want you to trust me, Betty, and to be as honest with me as you would be with your own parents."
"Oh?" She frowned at him and glanced at the closed door behind her. The unusualness of the situation now struck her. About the only time a student ever entered Mr. Wiggens's office was in the wake of an irate teacher who brought the student to the principal for discipline. Private closed-door interviews in his office were unheard of. She took another deep breath and noticed how he swallowed suddenly, his eyes fixed on the points of her breasts. Well, she thought, he was a man, and not too old at that.
"Of course I trust you, Mr. Wiggens," she said.
"This-this little conversation of ours could have very serious repercussions, Betty. I-I want you to understand that,"
"Oh, I do, Mr. Wiggens." His eyes avoided hers, sliding across her stomach and fastening onto the swelling of her pubic mound. She clasped her hands behind her back, the movement causing her hips to thrust forward, emphasizing the contour of her hirsute mound-and the delightfully swelling breasts. She felt a satisfaction at the uneasiness that seemed to come over him.
"You see, I couldn't help noticing that during the last period you were in-visiting-Mr. McGruder."
"Dear Mr. McGruder," she said with a smile. "He was helping me with my math. I have a great deal of trouble with it."
"Ummm, yes. Yes, of course." He cleared his throat. "That's just what he told me, my dear." He paused. "Now, I want you to be very, very truthful with me, Betty."
"Of course, Mr. Wiggens." She fluttered her eyelashes demurely.
"Has-has Mr. McGruder ever said anything-has he ever done anything, that, that-well, might be considered to be not a very nice thine to do or say?"
"Heavens, no," she murmured. "Everything Mr. McGruder's done for me had been very nice indeed." Her lashes were at half mast, and a provocative little smile played at the corners of her mouth.
"Ah, yes, I see." He looked at her, almost hopelessly, not knowing quite what he dare say next. He made an attempt.
"Mr. McGruder is-is a vigorous man. A-a married man, who, well, probably has strong physical desires."
"You make him sound groovy," she murmured, her eyes twinkling.
"I meant that, well, confound it! Has he ever made a pass at you?" he blurted out.
"A pass, Mr. Wiggens!"
"Yes! Has he ever, well, you know, grabbed you where he shouldn't grab you? Has he ever pinched you? Has he ever tried to kiss you?"
"Mr. Wiggens!" Her eyes were wide with shock. "Whatever makes you think that Mr. McGruder would do a thing like that?"
"Well, you are-rather fetching, Betty. Quite pretty as a matter-of-fact. A man could hardly be blamed for wanting-for wanting to touch you."
Goodness, he's blushing, thought Betty as she looked at him coolly. "Why, thank you, Mr. Wiggens."
"Well, confound it! Has he? Touched you, that is?"
"He's always been a perfect gentleman. I like him very much."
"I told you I want you to be very honest now, Betty."
"Oh, lam, lam!"
"Well, there's something else."
"What is it, Mr. Wiggens?"
"It's something I saw. In that room," His eyes fluttered over her like a nervous butterfly, going from one spiked nipple to the other, ran down her body to stop at the prominent mound that bulged her dress at her crotch, then moved on and caressed the warm soft thighs that were almost wholly exposed by her clinging miniskirt.
"What was that, Mr. Wiggens?"
He cleared his throat and his voice became a little hoarser. "A piece of ladies' underwear."
"Underwear?" She grinned suddenly, and her hand went to her pubic mound and rested there for a moment. "What kind of underwear?"
"A pair of panties, Betty, black panties. Very scanty ones too, I might add, the kind they call bikini panties."
He was definitely blushing, she thought, but covering his embarrassment very nicely by blustering. "How exciting!" she exclaimed. "Was he hiding a woman in his classroom?"
"Hardly, my dear." He looked pained. "There was no one else there, of course. Except you."
"Me? When you found the panties?"
"Of course not! You had left already." He spoke heavily, as if his patience were being sorely tried. "We passed in the doorway."
"Yes, I remember."
"You had been in there with him. Alone."
"Mr. Wiggens!" Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What are you trying to say?"
"Are those panties yours, Betty?"
She moved a few steps back from the desk, her eyes downcast. "Did he say they were mine?"
"No!" He snorted in disgust. "He had some cock-and-bull story about them being his wife's, and he had them in his pocket by mistake. Thought they were a handkerchief!"
"Maybe they were his wife's;" she said mildly.
"Have you ever seen his wife?" asked the principal caustically.
"Why, no, Mr. Wiggens."
"She weighs over two hundred pounds." He snorted again. "Those black panties on her would be like trying to diaper an elephant."
Betty giggled.
"It's not funny, young lady," snapped Mr. Wiggens. "You be honest with me and there won't be any trouble. Were those panties yours?"
"Do you really mean there won't be any trouble?" she asked curiously. "Of course I mean it."
"But if you're not going to do anything about it, then why do you want to know?" she asked reasonably.
"There'll be no trouble, for you," he assured her in a tone of exasperation.
"What will you do to poor Mr. McGruder?"
"So they are your panties," he said accusingly.
"I didn't say that," she replied demurely. "You're going to make trouble for poor Mr. McGruder if you can, aren't you?"
"Well, he can't go around-around-doing that to his students. Not in this school!"
"Doing what?"
"For God's sake, Betty!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Did he do it to you or didn't he?"
Sweat was standing out on his forehead now in little droplets.
"Take my panties off, you mean?"
"That'll do for a starter. Were those your panties I saw in McGruder's classroom?"
"I'm not going to tell you," she said firmly. "I think it's a girl's private business where she takes off her pants."
He made a strangling noise. "Betty, do you want me to call your parents in and discuss this with them?"
She giggled. "What'll you do? Call them up and tell them one of your teachers seduced me in a classroom?"
"Did he seduce you, Betty?"
She shrugged. "Maybe I seduced him."
"Don't be flippant!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her in exasperation. "You admit then to having-relations-with him?"
"I won't admit anything. You're just trying to get poor Mr. McGruder in trouble and I won't let you." Her smile broadened and became teasing. "I like him too much-especially after what he showed me in his classroom today."
"My God! What he showed you-! You're flaunting it at me! For God's sake, Betty, why don't-you come right out with it and tell me what happened in there?"
"I think you're a dirty old man," she said with dignity. "You just want me to say that Mr. McGruder fucked me, whether he did or not. Well, I won't tell you anything."
Mr. Wiggens was livid. "There are ways of finding out, young lady!"
"What will you do? Have the police come and take me away and make tests? My daddy will sue you. You can get in a lot of trouble that way. So you might as well forget the whole thing." She paused. "Now, let go of me. You're hurting my arm."
He stared open-mouthed at her and backed a step away, letting his hands fall to his sides. After a moment he said, "I'm sorry. I lost my head. I really did."
"Well, I guess I can understand that," she said calmly. "You were probably jealous of Mr. McGruder."
"Jealous?" He was floundering now.
"I can tell," she said matter-of-factly. "Men are pretty much a-like. The way you've been looking at me since I've been in here-at my breasts and legs and everything-I could tell. You were thinking about him-you know-fucking me, and it got you all upset because deep inside you want to do it to me yourself."
"Oh, no!" he protested, one hand pawing feebly at the air in front of him.
"I could tell," she insisted. "I know when men want to do it to me. I can tell by their eyes and the way their mouths get."
"Did-did Mr. McGruder look at you that way?"
"Oh, yes," she said breezily. "He's been looking at me like that since the term started."
"And do-do you ever let men-men-"
"Do it to me?" She laughed. "That's kind of personal." She paused. "You know, you're a sweet old thing. You're much nicer now than when you were trying to bully me a few minutes ago."
"I'm sorry for that."
"It's all right." She waved one hand airily. "And if you promise not to say anything to Mr. McGruder-or anyone-about those panties you found, I'll tell you what you want to know."
"I promise, I promise!" The words came tumbling out of his mouth.
She giggled and took hold of the edge of her miniskirt and raised it up to her waist. "I was in such a hurry to get out of there I forgot all about my panties."
Mr. Wiggens stared popeyed at her nakedness below the raised skirt. Her thighs were firm and round, and the curve of her belly was quite delectable as it flowed down to the juncture of her thighs. Her Venus mound was covered with a mat of light brown curls. As he watched she slowly turned, as if she were modeling something, and the full, rounded cheeks of her pert bottom came into view, to pass and leave him staring again at the tantalizing, hairy cunt.
"If you have my panties, I'll let you put them on me-if you want," she said demurely, still holding the skirt waist-high.
He groaned. "I don't-but perhaps, perhaps I can get them."
"Silly!" she giggled. "You can't ask Mr. McGruder for them after you promised not to mention them to anyone. I guess I can get along without them." She began slowly to lower the skirt.
"Oh, no! No! Please don't! Don't drop your skirt yet," he pleaded.
"Why, Mr. Wiggens! I showed you what you wanted to know. I thought you'd let me go now."
"In a little while," he breathed. "Not just yet. You're marvelously mature and beautiful for such a young girl."
"That's what Mr. McGruder said when he took my panties off," she said shyly.
"Ah! Did he-did he hurt you, Betty?"
"Goodness no! He wanted to take my panties off to give me pleasure, he said. He said he wouldn't hurt me."
"What did he do, child? What did he do?"
"He began to rub me here." She showed him with her hand, lightly touching the mound between her thighs.
"Oh, yes! Like this?" Mr. Wiggens dropped to his knees before her, one hand going around to rest on a voluptuous buttock, while the other began gently to rub the mass of tangled curls.
"At first," she said. "Then he rubbed between the lips down there. Like that," she said as he combed through the luxuriant foliage that shrouded her cunt, and spread the flushed and swollen outer lips. His middle finger began to move up and down between her labia, rubbing gently on the sensitive inner flesh.
"Like this?" he asked.
"Oh, yes! And then after a while he put a finger inside." Her eyes were closed now, a smile resting on full, petulant lips. She moved her legs, spreading them so that he would have easier access to the portal of her body that he was now probing.
The passion flow was beginning, lubricating her cunt so that his finger slid around the warm, slippery flesh. He rubbed the turgid clitoris, worrying it between his thumb and middle finger, then he slid another finger into the seething tunnel of her body as far as it would go, and began to rotate it, rubbing the inside of her cunt.
"Are you going to kiss me now?" she asked in a husky whisper. "Kiss you?"
"Mr. McGruder said that was the nicest thing about girls. They have two sets of lips to kiss and love-and then he began to kiss me there. You can kiss me there if you want to."
"Oh, yes," he stammered, and he moved forward between her spread thighs, his eager mouth, pressed against the sweet hot folds of her cunt, his tongue licking up and down, then sliding into the hot vagina. He stabbed her with his tongue, licked her, sucked her, seizing the stubby clitoris between greedy lips and sucking it like a candy.
"You're nice, Mr. Wiggens," she said softly, looking down at him. "It's just as much fun with you as it was with Mr. McGruder. Are you going to fuck me too, like he did, after you make me come this way?"
"Oh, yes, Betty! God yes!" He tore his mouth away from her cunt long enough to answer her, then began to suck her again, both hands squeezing and kneading the full soft cheeks of her ass.
"In a minute, Mr. Wiggens," she said soothingly. "You keep sucking-that's it, harder, harder!"
The tension began to mound in her body as he brought her to the peak of emotion with his thrusting, licking tongue and the greedy suckings of his mouth. When the spasm hit her, he redoubled his efforts, sucking desperately while the twitchings of her body diminished. Finally she put a hand down on his head and pulled him from her cunt.
"That's enough," she said softly. "Now you can fuck me if you want."
She lay down on the carpet and watched curiously as he opened his belt and dropped his trousers to the floor, then followed them with his shorts. His cock was fully roused, standing at throbbing attention as he lowered himself between her spread, bent legs.
He positioned the bulbous head of his cock between the soft folds of her cunt and began to press slowly inwards. Her knees drew up and she began to make little gasping noises as his cock started to work its way into her. Her cunt was tight and clutching on the thick meaty organ that rammed again and again into her, each thrust seating it an inch deeper in her hot box. The muscles of her ass were clenched and straining as she worked her hips from side to side and hunched them up with instinctive response to the hot meat that sledged into her cock-squeezing vagina.
Her writhing and bucking helped him drive his tool to her depths till one last lunge plunged him home. He lay still for a moment, gasping in passion, his cock throbbing and jerking-in her toolbox while she lay moaning under him, her body still moving with continuous muscular action. The cheeks of her ass were flexing and her internal muscles were working on his cock with a sensual milking pressure.
"You've got a sweet pussy," he breathed into her ear. "The sweetest, tightest little cunt I've ever fucked."
"Oh, Mr. Wiggens," she sighed. "You feel so good inside me. You're bigger than Mr. McGruder. You fill me right up."
At the reference to the mathematics teacher, the principal's passion became further stimulated and he began to slowly fuck into the soft white body of the girl under him.
"Damn McGruder," he muttered.
"What'd you say, Mr. Wiggens?"
"McGruder. He shouldn't have done that."
"Done what, Mr. Wiggens?"
His cock was traveling a good six inches in her hot, slimy cunt, while her body writhed passionately under him, her pelvis rolling and rocking as she twisted around, tilting her cunt in a hundred different ways so the delightful friction could be felt in as many different places.
The image of the tall, wide-shouldered mathematics teacher mounting his young charge filled Mr. Wiggens's mind. He saw the white, naked thighs spread and lift, saw the fragile form under McGruder, saw the stiff cock penetrate the soft, yielding flesh, saw the vigorous pounding of her body as McGruder fucked her. He groaned from the increased excitement these thoughts had brought him, and he accelerated the tempo of his own movements.
She didn't answer him. She wasn't sure what he meant, nor was she interested. Her interest centered on the sensation of his cock in her vagina, the sweet, hot friction of its travels, the flame of lust that burned in her veins. Her body responded like a well-oiled machine, responsive, eager, an undulating, bucking, vibrant, passionate female living the ultimate moment of truth, the union with a male body-the most exquisite sensation of which a young female body is capable. His body slapped against hers with an increasing sound and tempo, bringing them both up to the top of the mountain, and the explosion left them shuddering convulsively in each other's arms.
After a moment he spoke gently in her ear. "Can you forgive me, Betty? I mean-a young girl like you. I shouldn't, I truly shouldn't have-"
She sighed and flexed her internal muscles, squeezing the now flaccid cock that still rested warmly in her cunt. "I'll try, Mr. Wiggens, I'll truly try."