Chapter 1
"Welllll!" John Landsdowne beamed as they sat down at a table in the pleasant Coq d'Ete Restaurant. "It's certainly nice to get away from the same old routine!"
Kay Woodruff, silver and soft, in a silver fox collar and bleached silvered hair, tried to purr like the kitten she wished to appear, but the purr turned into a shudder. She could not help thinking that there was nothing more routine in her life than going to dinner with elementary school principals and listening to routine remarks like the one John had just made. She decided that some day soon she was going to sit down and make herself remember every instance of just such a remark under the same circumstances and begin to keep score. Perhaps it would get her into the Guinness Book of World Records. The same old routine! As far as Kay was concerned, it was men who were the same old routine! She was beginning to think that there was a book of instructions for principals that explained what to say to their teachers, especially when they took them out to dinner. This would explain why all of the principals she had ever dated always said the same thing. Well, this was a fine start for a date that she had made up her mind she was going to enjoy. Kay's problem was that she found men terribly dull, grown men anyway.
Yet they all fluttered over the voluptuous woman. Every principal Kay had ever worked for had taken her out to dinner, at least. It did not matter whether or not he was married, each and every principal of every age group from thirty to seventy had taken her somewhere. She had noticed with amusement that if he were married, the man often made his pass right away and was incredulous when she demurred. With the married ones she had an excuse, of course, to hang on to what they thought was her chastity. She could generally make them feel that if it were not for that little old marriage, she would be most interested. This made them very paternal for the rest of her stay at the schools. The unmarried ones, like John Landsdowne, could afford to spend more time courting, and all she could do was string them along with a date now and then until the term was over or something broke. The only thing she cared about was keeping the principal happy enough in whatever school she was teaching so that if trouble developed over her passion for her pupils in her fourth grade room, the principal would stand as friend, not foe.
While John studied the menu, Kay amused herself by trying to decide how old he was. Needless to say, she had not been interested enough to inquire of the other teachers. She had not worked for the Cull School very long, but had come to town the end of last year, after an unfortunate episode that left her without work the last three months of the year, to inquire for substitute work. She would not do regular teaching except fourth grade, she said. Incredibly, the fourth grade teacher at Cull was just about to leave to have a baby, and Kay moved into her job. So here she was, starting a new year in the same school as the previous year. It didn't happen very often, although, come to think of it, the time spent in each school was beginning to lengthen. She was undoubtedly becoming more proficient in handling problems. John had wanted to take her out before the summer, but the sudden work load of a new position gave her plenty of excuse to turn him down. She never gave in before she had to.
Now as she finally sat opposite him in the restaurant, the mischievous thought crossed her mind as she took her first really good look at him that he would have done better to take her some place where the lighting was more subdued for the age lines in his face tended to contradict the coal black color of his hair. It was dyed, she decided, and thought what a good looking man he would be if he would let his hair turn to its natural gray. Self-consciously she reached up to pat the roll of her own unnaturally colored silver hair. Now she dyed her hair to change the color to appear more attractive, not to hide her age. Of course, she thought charitably, perhaps at his age, whatever it might be, she might want to do the same.
She sighed. She had answered his few clipped questions about food and drinks and felt the burden of silence. She had had a martini at home and here was another. Maybe drinking would stimulate the conversation, she thought brightly, but then sourly recalled that it never did. What happened to little boys in the course of growing up, she wondered, nibbling at her olive. They lost their glow, their fervor about life. Everything they said sounded as though they were reading from a TV prompting card. Maybe it was herself. She had considered that because she sometimes thought of doing crazy things when she was out with them, like pulling the tablecloth off onto the floor or going to the ladies room and not returning or even going to sit with someone else she saw elsewhere in the room. Sometimes her restlessness got so strong it took all her will power to keep herself clamped in place. Well tonight she was . . .
"How come you're not married? Remember, you were going to explain it all to me over our first martini together," John was saying, interrupting her own thoughts.
She had to say something and she could not recall promising any such thing. "You sound as though you're accusing me of a crime!" They always did sound that way. It was a game of paying compliments to her. If they paid enough compliments, she might pay off...later.
"It is a crime," he stated.
"Then you're a fellow criminal, I should gather," she said, almost yawning and reaching for her martini again. God, it was almost gone! Then, because he didn't answer, she continued. "After all, you're not married . . . . " she caught her tongue. The waitress had come to the table with more martinis, and just that slight interruption gave her time to reconsider the rest of her statement. She had almost blurted out that he was older than she was. She was thirty five, but she didn't know how young he thought he looked. It would be politic not to risk wounding him for more reasons than one. A principal can make a teacher's life miserable, she had learned in her early years.
She had refused to date the first principal she had ever worked for. He was married and ages older than herself, it seemed to her, and even as a beginning teacher she knew she had no interest in grown men and intended to play the game fairly. She knew that the principal had wanted a sexual adventure when he asked her out, and since she knew she would not come across, she had refused. At that naive age, she thought everything revolved around justice. She hadn't thought it fair to allow him to spend his money for nothing. Now she was willing to let them pay for the dream of laying her because now she realized that a man got the same bang out of dating and losing that he got out of holding a bat at home plate even if he couldn't have seen the ball if it were rolled to him.
Anyway, her first principal punished her in various ways, the most irritating of which was sitting in the back of her class for a short time and then complaining to her later about her teaching methods, which he had seen but a part of, understood none of, and had not way to judge the results.
"A penny for your thoughts," the dark-haired John Landsdowne said. The waitress had gone.
Kay disregarded the trite form of the question and put all her effort into being sweet and soft and kitteny. She twittered a little laugh. "They were not very earth-shaking. For some reason I was thinking of the first job I had."
Oh?" with studied interest.
"It was nothing really. I was teaching spelling one day, and in the class we had developed a routine of doing it, sounding the words out together and looking for the way the word could be easily recalled." He seemed interested. "I still do it, you know, like find the little word 'gum' in the big one 'argument' so the child will remember to drop the 'e' of 'argue' when he spells 'argument! The principal didn't like the method!" She was bordering on an urge.
"Why?"
What the hell, she thought. I'll try the truth and see what happens. "I wouldn't go out with him," she offered as the most logical of reasons.
John laughed heartily, too heartily, and she realized that it had been the right thing to say. He took it as a compliment. It was not until that moment that she saw another martini at her place. She knew as she watched his pride swell that she was going to need it.
John's ego was bolstered, in fact, by what seemed an indication that she did not date just anyone who asked her. His pride promptly brought to life everything else of which he was proud. He told her that he had not always been a principal or even a teacher but a garage mechanic. After he had been divorced, he had decided to go to college at thirty eight and start a new life for himself, not that he didn't tinker with cars now and then she should call him first if she had any problems with her own but he had certainly never regretted the change.
She wondered if he noticed the slip he had made about his age, and the divorce was something about him she had not known. She was on the brink of asking him if he had any children, but he required no questions to keep talking now. The dinner was served somewhere in between his third and fourth year of college and then he calmed down in between bites and in those spots, was relatively quiet. Kay looked him over as he ate, trying to find something different about him, something that would distinguish him from the sea of principal-faces she had gazed at and listened to across many a restaurant table. She wanted to find something individual about him, something that would excite her. Surely there had to be something wrong with herself that she could not do so!
She had given herself a good, thorough going over lately. The fact that she didn't like men had to be her own fault. Surely her way of life was out of the ordinary, in fact, perverted, when she dared face it! While getting ready for this date, Kay had made the firm decision that since John Landsdowne was single, she was going to give a grown man a try. She had had an excellent conversation with herself about it all. She was going to try to stimulate the relationship for a change, or at least explore it more closely than she ever had. She had taken a big step when she had worn her fuchsia dress with the silver fox collar, a very revealing garment that she ordinarily wore only in her own living room for her special 'company.'
She had even convinced herself to look forward to the evening with some feeling of anticipation. True, she had had to pretend that the little boy inside of him was coming instead of the polite, inelastic, thoroughly trained gentleman that the little boy of long ago had become when he grew up. And when the adult image began to intrude again, she banished John Landsdowne from her mind and pretended to be dressing for herself. Once she had decided to wear the fuchsia dress, she had slipped into it quickly before she changed her mind. She knew she was walking the edge of normalcy, ever ready to slip back into her perverted yearnings again. If she slipped back, the dress would come back off. She was going to try to take this relationship past the protector-and-kitten stage, find in herself the same wells of passion for a grown man that she so easily found for little boys!
The fuchsia dress was a provocative garment designed to arouse and pique the most stubborn male libido, though she doubted that she needed it with a grown man. It was more useful with the little virgin boys of her class. What she was hoping was that wearing it would stimulate her. She remembered gazing at herself in the vanity mirror as she got ready, half a martini on her dresser. She had picked up her brush and run it through her silver hair, patting it under the soft roll that rested on her shoulders. She had then recognized that her reasons for the seductive attire were entirely personal, that dressed sexily she could stimulate herself. She took a narcissistic pleasure in admiring her own symmetrical loveliness, her amply rounded tits and narrow waist, the generous arch of her slender hips and the long white columns of her firmly contoured thighs and shapely calves, all so alluring through the slits and gossamer veil of some of the dress. She could anticipate a man's reaction. The silver fox around the neckline kept it sweet and the rest of her charms were more enhanced by the daring dress than by absolute nakedness.
The sound of John's fork clicking on his teeth brought her out of her reverie, and she noticed through her lowered lashes that the provocative dress she had worn was doing what she thought it would do to John. As he cut and ate his steak, she received the distinct impression that it was she he was shoveling into his mouth on his fork. And as soon as she looked up, he diverted his gaze from her neckline. She honestly tried to feel delighted by his hungry attention. Desperately she shimmied her body inside her bra to see if she could make her nipples harden. Glancing around, she saw that no one could see her so she even tickled herself a little as best she could between the legs. Nothing. Of course, there was one way.
Now Kay laughed almost aloud to herself, a whisper of a gasp escaping her lips. It was a soft cynical sound spiked by the influence of three martinis. She knew that the man across from her was admiring her seductively clad body. She sipped from her glass, her smile with its little turned down corners of the mouth unintentionally dripping a tipsy irony. It had all seemed so simple when she was looking at herself in the mirror, this business of helping him seduce her by seducing herself. She realized now that the only she was going to get an obscene desire to permeate her sensuously beautiful body was to think of Phil Kiley, little nine year old Phil Kiley. Briefly she remembered Jeff, but he was better forgotten now. He was ten this year and his room was in the school across the street. Ten was really too old. Kay again sipped from her glass and giggled tipsily. She was blissfully drunk, she suspected, and enjoying a velvety sensation that distracted her attention from John even as she contemplated finding a way to seduce herself for him.
"I think you better hurry, if you can," John suddenly said, concerned. "The concert starts at 8:30."
She looked down at her plate and saw that she had barely begun, and now that she took a good look at it, the steak looked scrumptious. Maybe she could seduce herself at the concert!
John was engrossed with the music, but Kay was uncomfortably aware that she was dangerously tipsy. She had valiantly refused a second glass of dinner wine, and had volunteered to skip the cordial in favor of getting to the concert on time. It would be very embarrassing to fall asleep, but she knew there was enough alcohol in her to make her drowsy if she were not careful. The problem with a concert was that there were no colors and movements to help her keep her eyes open. Everyone in the orchestra wore black, and their instruments were brown mostly. She soon found that watching the bows saw up and down on the violins was more sleep-producing than alcohol. Desperately she tried to think of what would happen when they left the concert hall, if anything happened at all. Maybe this was a good time to consider her sexual idiosyncrasy and see if she could get something, if not raging, at least kindled in her body for John. With this in mind, she deliberately thrust her hand through his arm and into his folded hands on his lap. He didn't look at her, but he did give her hand a welcoming squeeze. Now she told herself, He had been to see her just the night before. She had worn the same dress she had on tonight. She remembered him at the door, his innocent but lively blue eyes shining up at her, his red hair neatly combed, smiling broadly with those lovely teeth of his.
Kay was aware of shuddering with the thrill of remembering. Perhaps John would think it was a reaction to the music. But Phil was so handsome. She remembered how she had kept a certain aloofness for awhile, opening the door to the boy with a bit of a chill, but then walking in front of him toward the center of her living room so that the lights in the room would give her dress an exciting, fiery quality, not of flame. What she loved about fuchsia was that it had a snap and crackle quality that promised a flame inside, but one that would come to life with deliberateness and a little effort on a boy's part.
She had carefully moved her hips just enough to swivel her ass a little. She had caught the child's expression of astonished awe as he stood in the doorway after he had noticed her provocative gown. He had openly stared then, his blue eyes racing over her veiled charms in apprehensive but openly spontaneous excitement. Spontaneity, that's what she like about little boys! Anyway, it was obvious he had never seen a woman in such a beautiful and revealing gown and had certainly not expected Miss Woodruff to be wearing such a thing for their lesson.
"Sit down," she had to tell him at least three times that she remembered. Finally he sat. Brahms melted into the soft love song she had playing on her phonograph.
Wow, little Phil Kiley was thinking, Miss Woodruff sure had pretty legs! Whatever she was wearing under that flimsy gown went right up to her crotch! (For she had not worn the underslip!) He could even see that mound puffing out in front, but not very well, and her big tits! God! They were just barely tucked inside the thing, swelling up all around with just a narrow crack running down between them, like they were going to jump out over that silver fur at any second.
"Sit down, Phil," Kay repeated, pointing toward the couch as she placed her paper and pencils on the coffee table. She was pleased that he had ogled her to the fullest extent during those long seconds. His delightfully big blue eyes were bugging out of his head, and there was no mistaking the telltale rise at the crotch of his trousers. Kay could barely conceal her excitement as she gazed at his eager face. God, she could almost taste him! "Would you like something to drink while we study?" she asked.
"I think...I don't think so, thank you, Miss Woodruff."
Kay slid onto the couch beside him, a distance away, one leg bent beneath her to sit upon, her other leg protruding from the slit in the dress so that her creamy white flesh shone in the light halfway along her smoothly molded thighs. God, what a delight he was going to be!
"Did you bring your book? she asked in a cold tone directly contradictory to the visual image she was projecting.
"Uh...yes! Yes!" he said, sitting up straight and all business-like to the coffee table, opening his geography book in front of him.
"Phil," she started with a sigh. "You are such a bright boy I can't imagine how you failed that test." She saw the boy's eyes burn red a little.
"I...I don't know," he muttered. He wished he knew how to get Miss Woodruff to stop talking to him in class while the other kids were getting their work done, but every time, like now, when he tried to speak up about it, the words seemed to choke in his throat. She would give the class a test, for example, and then stand over beside his desk next to the windows and chatter to him about silly things like getting the janitor to fix the heat in the room or what colors she liked or what colors he, Phil, liked, all kinds of crazy things. It was embarrassing and it interfered terribly with his work. Yet he looked at her now in that filmy red dress that hardly covered...maybe it was all worth it, just to see her like this. Suddenly she was leaning toward him and he couldn't take his eyes from the scooped neck of her dress where those big tits were going to...Christ, what held them in there?
"Have you been flirting with your girl friend instead of studying?" she whispered with a mischievous smile.
"What girl friend?" he asked stoutly.
"Don't you have a girl friend?" she asked innocently.
"No!" his eyes big with wonder. The teacher did not seem so cold anymore. She didn't seem terribly interested in geography either.
Kay continued to smile. "That's hard to understand," she said whisperingly, "a handsome young boy like you. If I were in the fourth grade, I'd love to be your girl friend. I'd sneak out to the show with you, maybe even kiss you in the back row . . . "
For a long moment, Phil just sat and stared at her. "You would!" he asked, dumbfounded.
"Of course I would, darling," she laughed warmly. "Tell you what, we'll just pretend that I'm your girl friend, okay? Would you like that? Would you sneak out to the show with me?"
His eyes alternated between her eyes and her bulging tits. "You're kidding, Miss Woodruff! "AT...are you going to wear that...that dress?"
She really laughed then. "Oh, I was thinking of a show right here, with this couch for a back row!" She saw his face flush. "Would you kiss me in the back row of the show?" she taunted, knowing now that she had him for certain, the excited stirring in the front of his pants now blatantly obvious. "I mean, really kiss me like a girl should be kissed so she knows that her boyfriend cares about her?" She saw him swallow nervously as he stared at her, and unable to speak, nod his head affirmatively and also emphatically.
Kay reached over and closed his book, then slithered along the couch toward him, turning all kitteny and soft, wiggling close enough so that she knew that he could smell the fragrance she wore. Finally, with her eyes devouring him, her petulant lower lip quivering slightly, she said, "Show me, Phil. Show me how you would kiss me if I were your girl friend and we were in the last row of the movies!"
The young boy's entire body trembled with excitement. He shuddered spasmodically. His hands were clasped together now, his fingers intertwining, not seeming to know what to do with themselves. He could not have repeated back to her anything she said, his brain was in such a whirl. It was like going to the carnival and riding all the rides over and over until finally the lights went out and the carnival man closed the doors.
"You sweetheart, you," Kay hissed lecherously, reaching out and letting her arms slowly encircle him, drawing him to her. "No one will ever know whether or not you passed the geography test," she whispered, "Not even you," she added, encompassing him within the aura of her sensual charms, her full tits flattening against the solidness of his young chest, her wriggling belly brushing his. Then she kissed him tenderly, her mouth closed still yet with warmth and passion.
Kay sensed his strong nine year old hands clasping at her slender waist through the wispy material of her fuchsia gown, not searchingly, but with guarding protectiveness, bracing himself as she let her lips part and her pink tongue seek the freshness of his sweet young mouth.
This was a Fourth of July carnival! Phil thought crazily, his brain racing in wild excitement. What was she doing? Was she just teasing him or something? Did he really pass the geography test and this was a prize? Wow! Whatever was happening, he couldn't believe it! He just couldn't believe that Miss Woodruff, the fourth grade teacher at Cull Elementary School was kissing him!
But what else could a guy call it? Right at that very moment she was kissing him, her lips all hot and moist. She was holding him in a crunching grip against her flattened tits, and...and there was her tongue trying to wedge into his mouth! Christ all mighty! He couldn't decide whether he liked the frigging tongue! But oh, man, his aching cock was as hard as a gym rail and jerking like a cowboy on a bucking horse!
Excitedly dominated by her lust for young boys, which she had never understood, Kay held the amazed boy tightly within her arms while she smothered his smooth innocent face and lips with ardent kisses, one slender hand finally moving down to his lap to find the swollen outline of his straining, puffing cock inside his tight-fitting pants. She felt him tremble and gasp in her embrace at her touch, a galvanic sensation racing through her belly as she traced the erectly hardened member delicately with thumb and forefinger, not at all displeased with its promising youthful length and thickness.
"Aaaaahhhhhh, Phil, it feels so harrrdddd," she whispered against his panting mouth. "It must hurt, all cramped inside there like that. Here, let Miss Woodruff take it out so that it can stiffen right up straight for her!"
Phil could only grunt in mounting tension, feeling her hand first softly caressing, then suddenly unzipping his fly to ease inside his cotton shorts and smooth over the trembling surface of his pelvis, her groping fingers finally wrapping right around his urgently jerking cock-shaft, completely destroying him. He couldn't have stopped her if he wanted to! Crazy tingles of unprecedented agitation charged through his loins up into his belly. Frig! If this was a prize, he was going to study like hell. He'd take all the prizes she had to give out! She had his ramrod-hard cock right in her hand, and...and she was stroking it, sliding the loose outer skin up and down, up and down. Now...now she was feeling his balls!
"Oooohhhhhh, Phil, you sweetheart! You feel so good to me." The lust-crazed teacher breathed hotly into his mouth, her feminine aroma and taste about to blow his inexperienced young mind! "Let's go into the bedroom and take our clothes off and get naked. Want to?"
Poor Phil couldn't answer. There was such a large lump in his throat that he would have sworn he had swallowed his tongue if he couldn't feel it trembling in his mouth like a cornered animal. Now she was smiling at him, her moist red lips half opened, her long-lashed, sultry brown eyes, the deepest eyes he had ever seen, speaking to him of secret wonders. Oh man, he knew he shouldn't! But hell, he sure was going to! Yeah man, he was going to do whatever she said! What else could he do? He couldn't get his teacher mad at him and fail all his tests, could he? God, she was so beautiful. He had never known a young woman like her with silver hair before. Her tits were practically bursting right out over that silver fur at the neck of her dress! He had to see them bare! He had to see all of her, her pussy and her ass! Oh damn, she was stroking his throbbing cock again!
"I guess you don't want to go into the bedroom and get naked with me," she suddenly pouted, and for a minute his heart froze, briefly suspicious that she had been teasing him all along. But then she squeezed his pulsating cock meaningfully. "I was feeling kind of hungry," she added pruriently, slowly lowering her head downward in front of him until it was poised right over his lead-hardened shaft of hot cock-flesh.
Even though he could not see the actual penetration, Phil sensed his eyes bugging as he felt her hand at the base of his desperately aching cock, drawing down the foreskin from the sensitive glans, and second later the intoxicating contact of her wet flicking tongue with the split at its tip, wiggling hotly into it, sending frenzied jolts of lascivious excitation charging helter-skelter throughout his young body. He grunted loudly and then felt her softly enclosing lips slipping over his prickling stone-hard cock-head, down...down...until he would have sworn she had sucked the whole length of his excitedly spasming prick into the shelter of her velvety mouth! Her wet tongue lashed and he could feel the pressure of her sucking cheeks drawing on it for a long moment before she slowly raised her head, sucking her way up off it until she was smiling into his mesmerized face once more.
"Wouldn't you like to play with me, Phil, darling?" she whispered sensuously, the beautiful lips that had just been wrapped around his cock glistening, reflecting the lamplight in their ruby-like dampness.
He tried to swallow the huge lump that was in his throat, but he just couldn't. He nodded dazedly but enthusiastically while she laughed in warmth and understanding sympathy, taking his young hand and drawing him up from the couch to lead him down a little hall with his arched cock sticking right out of his fly and waggling crazily as he walked.
Hell! He'd never be the same after this! Imagine him, of all the guys in the class! And even of all the guys bigger than him, the men you'd think a gorgeous teacher like Miss Woodrull would prefer, men like Mr. Landsdowne, for example!