Chapter 9
On Monday morning, Jerry watched with interest and pride as Mala dressed for her first teaching day at Oakdale. They had decided that from now on, barring car trouble, they would go to school in their own cars. "Because, if you make the gym team, baby, and the judging is close, I don't want some sore loser saying we're too much together," Mala had said.
Seated on her bed, with his arms around her, his face on her warm, bare belly's smoothness, his chin tickled by her pubic hair, Jerry had laughed.
"As long as they don't try to regulate what we do in practice sessions, it's all right," he had said.
"Feel this fabric," Mala said on this lovely, bright Monday. "I had these leotards made in Germany; they're like skin. Isn't it crazy? I hate panty hose, I hate underwear, and yet I love the feel of my working clothes, these things, tights, whatever. A state of mind."
She sat on the bed and pulled the tights up to her thighs, stood up to complete the job, and Jerry lovingly put his hand on the soft lips of her pussy before she closed it off with the garment. "First time I've felt it when it was dry," he observed.
Mala smiled down at him. 'I've got a plug in it," she said. "It's either that or wear panties under the tights, and that's too much."
"They really are like skin," the boy judged. "I can see every teeny wrinkle in your nipples. And every hair on your cunt. When you bent over a minute ago, I could see your ass-hole, plain as day."
She put on a hip-length robe of raw silk, and the lightest of ballet slippers. "I keep the kimono in except when I'm demonstrating a turn," she said, "and when I'm in action, you don't notice the details." They both giggled at this.
It was fine at school. Two classes in the morning, one for eighth and ninth graders bussed over from Brandeis Junior High, and two after lunch, for older kids. Mala was strangely excited when Roy Flack appeared for the morning class for the tenth grade. She was busy with routine paperwork, checking each member of the class for their experience, and young Roy floored her with his list of accomplishments. High-low bars, parallel bars, the horse, tumbling. He also listed the rings, which meant, of course, the he did handstands.
He was the only one of the boys who was fitted with "pro" type tights, and she watched him as he did a few slow walkovers, fascinated with his skill and style.
"You must come out for our gym team," she told him at End of the period. "You're new here, and so am I; wouldn't it be nice if the two of us helped bring a championship to Oakdale in our first year?"
He had ducked his head and blushed, but when she saw him in the cafeteria, in street clothes, he came over to thank her.
"I'll sure work my tail off for you-oh, pardon me, Miss Peters! I mean I'll work real hard. I just hope I'm good enough for the team." And he blushed again when she said to him in a low voice: "You're good enough, baby! Don't ever worry about that!"
He looked at her curiously. "You sure are like someone I know," he said. "But I can't remember who. Or where."
He walked away frowning, and Mala chuckled inwardly. Sooner or later, he'd know who and where, if only because she couldn't keep her hands off him for long. It had been plain that he had not worn a jockstrap; his manly young cock and balls had been displayed in touching candor when he had done the walkovers and split handstands. She could talk to him about that; show his the reason for protecting his lovely young jewels.
In the first of the afternoon classes, Jerry was registered and Mala, checking him in, joked with him in a quiet voice as she perfunctorily noted his various specialties, which she already knew. "You've left off some of your indoor gymnastics," she quipped as he handed her his card, and flashed her right breast at him, since no one else could see.
"They don't grade for that," he laughed. "Anyhow, I'm a freshman in that line. Timmy Schultz is in your next class; maybe you could get him to show his credentials."
Two days went by, and a third; Thursday passed, and Friday brought the first mass tryout for team breakdowns. Little Sue Carter, delightful in pink tights and surprisingly graceful in free exercises, dropped panting on a mat by Mala as the new coach watched each youngster go through basic exercises.
"Did you ever know anyone from up at Citrus Jaycee?" the big-titted child asked Mala during a break. "A friend of mine-you know him, he's in your late class, Tim Schultz. He met this college chick, and he's sure flipped for her. Name's Mary Frances Something, and he can't find her."
Mala considered, turning her right hand up, then back.
"I never taught there," she stalled. "My teams have met them in dual meets. All I would get is last names, anyhow. Is this chick a gymnast?"
The little girl giggled, her face scarlet. "To hear Timmy tell it, she is," and hugged herself as she laughed at her own joke.
Mala grinned. "That kind of a gymnast, hey?" she said. "I've heard that Timmy would know." And then, looking straight at the flushed, beautiful young face: "When did you meet her? And where? And why are you so interested?"
It was very tough, in a way, challenging a girl so young, but Mala was interested in building a bridge of confidence to as many of these kids as she could. So I can really help them, she thought. The sweet things think they're so wise, when they're really so vulnerable Sue looked confused. Then she touched Mala's hand. "You're some kind of a mind reader. You know there's something, uh, sort of offbeat in what I said, don't you?" She looked at Mala very seriously. "It gets kind of mixed for a girl sometimes, doesn't it?" she asked, and Mala said abruptly: "If it weren't for all these people around, my dear, I'd kiss you!"
She felt herself more affected by this exchange than the young chick; she knew pain from a sudden stoppage of breath, and her cunt, decently closed by her second tampon of the day, to guard against wetting her crotch with her generous distilling of vaginal juices, throbbed without reason. Without any reason except the sudden vision of that appealing, touchingly young cunt in pink tights, its perfume coming up to her, and Mala, desperately fighting her desire for something much more "offbeat" than Sue could have imagined, was reminded of the duality of her sexual experience.
It must have showed in her face, too, because the fresh-faced youngster, struggling to understand, leaned hard against her coach and teacher, her big soft breasts pressing on Mala's arm, and burrowed into the warm resilience of the older woman's breasts.
Somehow, Mala got through the day, her entire sexual apparatus in a chaotic storm of fuck-hunger, cock-need, cunt-interest, until she was grateful when the final class was over and she could flee to her neat, comfortable sanctuary on the Jonas estate.
And she had a simply marvelous surprise.
Little Roy Flack, his thin and earnest young face looking dubious, was sitting on her front stoop, looking more than a little sweated, but smiling hopefully.
"You said if you had time, you'd give me a little personal instruction, Miss Peters," he said shyly. "So I jogged over here. I knew where you lived," he added unnecessarily.
She was so pleased, so happy with it all, that she had to watch herself to keep from babbling like a schoolgirl.
"We'll certainly do that, Roy," she assured him. "There's something I wanted to tell you, anyhow, and now's my chance."
Once inside, she latched the door and checked both other entrances, and faced the shy boy, her face glowing. "Gee, Roy, this is great!" she said. "I look to you to be a real leader in our gym group. I think you've got what it takes. You seem older than the other kids. By the way, how old are you?"
He gulped. "I'm sixteen," he said. "Nearly seventeen. I'd look older if I was bigger, I expect."
She put her hand on his shoulder. "Forget about that!" she ordered. "You're big enough. And old enough, too!" She thought of last Friday night, with this young kid's cock in her, giving her such pleasure, leaving her content. Something more than simple sex; a communion of what? Spirit? Mind?
"I'm not trying to test you," she said to him, "but I've got an idea I want to advance to you. You tell me what you think of it, right? Okay!" She drew a deep breath, then went on.
"In five or six, maybe more big high schools up where I've been working, they're knocking down all barriers between the sexes. You know what I mean? Boys competing with girls, girls going out for boys' teams, track, tennis, volleyball, gym. Have you heard of that?"
"Sure, Miss Peters. I heard that Mister Jonas is all for it here in the Santa Vaquita area. At Oakdale, especially."
"Yes. That's great! You know what the first step is, don't you, Roy? The real first step? It's-mingling. Traveling together, showering together, everything honest-to-God coed."
He grinned weakly, then squared his shoulders, looked at her breasts, so plain to see, now that she had shucked out of the silk robe, and his smile really turned her on.
"Wow!" he ejaculated. "That ought to get every guy in school out for gym!" He flushed. "Excuse me," he apologized. "That's a dumb thing to say!"
She put her arm around him and hugged him close. "No such thing! It's true. But we can't publicize it. Can't even mention it for the time being. Have every old hen in the Santa Vaquita down on us like gangbusters. But you and I are going to do a little pioneering. Right now!"
He looked at her unbelievingly. "You don't mean that you, that I. . . ? " and he stopped, his face turning scarlet but alive with a deep interest.
"I sure as hell do," Mala assured him. "You and I, that exactly what I mean. If we can do it, shower together, without either of us being confused, or fussed, or silly, we'll know it can be done by everyone. That'd be a big day for Oakdale, wouldn't it?"
She turned her back to him. "There's a zipper at my collar," she said. "Pull it down for me, will you? And then start getting undressed. Let's get it on, Flack!"
She turned around to him, reaching up to her shoulders to peel the long sleeves down and off, and of course her fantastic breasts popped into view, jiggling with the mild activity, and she kept her face in a merry grin, although she was sober enough inside, watching for the slender boy's reactions.
He stared at her unbelievingly for only a second, then, with a gusting laugh, he got out of his slacks and pulled his knit shirt over his head. "You said neither of us was to get silly. Miss Peters," he said, his voice croaking slightly, "but you're going to have to help me! I don't know for sure what you mean. And I've got, well, this sort of problem."
He began to tug at the waistband of his shorts, and Mala, knowing exactly what the problem was, helped him. Sure enough, there it was, the beginnings of a big hard-on.
"I couldn't help it," the boy whispered. "I hope it doesn't ruin things."
"Not at all," Mala said in a crisp voice. "Have to expect it. Girls don't get, uh, erections, but you can bet, they feel plenty of interest. First few times, anyway. Don't worry about me, Roy; I've been through this before!"
She led him into the gorgeous shower, turned the main mixing faucet to medium, and began turning on various nozzles, top row, middle row, bottom row. "Come on in," she said. "Get close to me. Come on, Flack, I mean really close! Remember, we may be showering in hotel rooms on trips, three or four boys and girls in one tub!"
She drew him close to her, and deliberately reached down with a soapy washcloth and rubbed around his cock, which was almost up to its full size. "You've really got a beauty, there," she said, surprised that she was able to control her voice so well. "That ought to keep up the girl interest."
He was giggling, now, his eyes bright. "Say, this is pretty good! Let me do you!" He had his own washcloth, and he reached gingerly between Mala's legs, but she laughed at him.
"Don't be so prudish, Flack!" she admonished. "Drop the cloth. Here, your hand's got plenty of suds on it!"
She wiped his young fingers directly into her twat, which she had forgotten to unplug, and felt a furious rush of heat in every nerve. I've got to get more than Jerry can give me, she thought desperately, now that he's taking care of young Sue!
She murmured: "Excuse me, baby," in a whisper, and pulled the sopping tampon out by its string, tossing it in a corner.
"Hey," Roy's voice was alert, "you got your period? Must be over it; no blood!"
She stared at him dumbly, and he looked abashed. "I've got three sisters, older'n I am, and a mother; I guess I never learned to be careful about what I say around women."
Mala hugged him to her, grasping his cock with her soapy hands, jerking it good and hard, back and forth. "You sweet thing," she said, "no wonder I felt so at home with you! I've got four brothers and two sisters. No, my period's due in a couple of days. That," and she pointed to the tampon, "is to keep my silly old twat from leaking all over me! Did your sisters ever have to do that?"
He was rubbing against her, now, trying to hold the circumference of her slick breast, and his voice was husky. "They told me everything," he said. "They helped me-well, hell, they kept me from going crazy, jerking off!"
He looked angry, his face suffused with the scarlet tide of a blush, and Mala pulled his head down to her breast.
"You can tell me later," she said. "If you want to."
She gave him a big towel and they helped each other dry off. "Get my pussy, silly!" she said with mock severity. "You boys, you just don't know how to dry a girl off."
"I never heard of drying one off," the lad joked. "Jerking, now, that's different!" He laughed and kissed her on one of her damp breasts, and she thought of this boy, too shy to chase girls, taken in hand by sympathetic sisters, taught what to do, how to do it. Must have started a long time ago. And yet he was still shy. And then she had another idea.
"Listen, Roy," she said to him. "Tell the truth. Are you really afraid of girls? Or do you just use your small size, and your acting ability, to get all the pussy you want?"
She had him by the hard cock, now, and backed him up to the bed, forcing him down. "Back up," she demanded. "Further."
She took his cock in her mouth, then took it off. "I just want to get it lubricated," she whispered, grinning at him. "You're not fooling me, you villain!" She sucked again, so hard and well that his skinny butt raised off the bed, and his hands grabbed at the sides of her head, pulling her down on it.
"That's wet enough," she said. "I'm going to jerk you off, right in my face. Don't worry, baby, I can jerk you off better than you can. Remember, I had four brothers! Oooohh! I love this! Look at that big old red head!"
She was moving the cloaking softness of skin back and forth, kneeling in front of him, between his thighs, with her thumb pointed toward him, her fingers up. The big cock, its head shiny with the distension of engorged blood, was slipping out under her little finger, and she kissed it, licking the drop of clear pre-cum fluid from its little slit. Roy groaned.
"You'd better groan, you little devil," Mala jeered. "You betrayer of helpless girls!" She laughed in her throat, and held her hand still, letting a big gob of saliva drop in amongst her fingers so that the head and most of the foreskin were now bathed in slick spit. Her cunt gave her a sudden shiver of warning, and she held her body still, closing her eyes.
"You want to shoot this load in my face?" she asked. "Or on my tits, my belly? Let it run down in my cunt hair? You must have gotten your poor sisters to do all those things for you!" She jerked very gently now, knowing that this wise little kid was hanging on to his control, even as she was, and she looked with deep joy at his intent young face. I'm so fucking lucky, she told herself, finding a Jerry Jonas with so much native talent, and a wise little bastard like this.
"Let me feel your cunt!" he whispered raggedly. "I'm about to unload it, Miss Peters. Move up, let me get my fingers up your pussy. Ohhhhh! God damn! Quick! I'm about to cum!"
She pulled him down and onto his side, trying to keep some semblance of control, raising her right leg so he could have a clear passage to her cunt, which had already begun its slow throb of release from her pent-up sex fury. She could feel his fingers go in, feel the skill with which he moved them and then his thumb struck her clit and she let go. Let go as far as her own orgasm was concerned, but held on for his.
His cock had suddenly throbbed and grown larger in her grasp, and now she saw it, the little hole pointing right at her ecstatic face; the head had turned purple, looked ready to burst, and a long, white rope of jism shot out of the threatening ball of flesh, hitting her so hard that it stung.
He was cumming in a torrent of heat and pleasure, the long throbs of flame seeming to roll out over Roy's hand onto her, onto the bed, and she kept aiming the red cock at her mouth, catching most of it, swallowing it, but just as intrigued by the milky, slick spattering on her breasts.
She was on fire all through, and realized that the boy was giving her breasts the most brutal love that he could, squeezing them into blue-veined mouthfuls of tit flesh that squished out between his hard fingers, first one hand and then another, alternating between jabbing them deep up her cunt and pulling her breasts half-off, it seemed in her cum-crazed mind.
He let her suck him a long time, and she made it as gentle as she could, knowing how sensitive his cock was, and she lifted her breasts to lick the lost semen off them.
"That was pretty wild," she whispered at last, and the boy sat up, looking pretty wild himself.
"I've sure played hell," he said. "You'll probably kick my ass out of your class, off your team. I guess mom's right; I'm too much when it comes to sex!"
"Your mom?" Mala gasped. "Not her, too?"
"No!" the kid said. "Not mom! But she caught me with my sisters. And she didn't care about that. Said it might keep me from knocking one of the neighborhood girls up. And they were all on The Pill. God!" he muttered. "I just dig to fuck!"
"You got a pretty good one out at Garth's a week ago," Mala said, watching him start, pleased at his look of alarm. "Pulled that old 'poor little me' trick, didn't you?"
He got up and moved away. "You're too much," he said. "Who tells you all this, Miss Peters?"
She laughed at him, fingering one of her gorgeous tits, and he groaned suddenly, coming back to get on the bed with her. "They're gorgeous," he said huskily. "Even if I am in trouble for fucking a teacher." He held her breast, looking at her pleadingly, and ducked down to suck it.
She pulled away and got up, laughing. "Cut out the drama, you little clown," she said. "Watch this." She opened a drawer in her bureau and carefully, not looking at Roy, put on the wig she had worn the past Friday. "Now, how do you like me?"
He stared at her, goggle-eyed. "I don't believe it," he gasped. "Jesus were you ever good! I was going down to Garth's again tonight, just hoping I'd see that girl. Molly! Be damned!" He reached out his arms to her, and she went to him. He hugged her, burying his face in her fragrant bush of cunt hair, and slyly pushed his tongue into her slit, making her leap when it struck her excited clit.
"You're the best," he muttered. "You're better than any of my sisters. Even better than my oldest sister. And she's thirty-three!" He smiled weakly. "That's on the level, Miss Peters!"
"Practice makes perfect, kid," Mala said, grinning. "And listen, seeing that we've fucked and sucked and God knows what else, maybe you'd better call me Mala! Okay?" She hugged him with real good humor, real affection. "You beat anything I ever saw, except my youngest brother.
And don't ever repeat that, because I'll just say you lied, okay? Now, baby, move over and let's get it up again. I'm going to fix it so that if you go down to that fuck-farm, it'll be as a spectator!"