Bob-a-Job, Sir?

"Jenny and I are your entertainment for the evening. With our good friend, Fenella, to...errr...come." Applause for Fenella, who blushed furiously and tried vainly to cover her breasts.

"Now Jenny and I are ... errr ...wide open. To any suggestions you might have! And the naughtier, the better!" Obscene little mime from the two ladies, showing just how 'open' they could get, and what kind of 'suggestions' they might welcome.

"I'm delighted to see so many good-looking men here tonight. I hope to see more of you as the night goes on. I'm really glad that you can see so much of me. But sometimes when I don't have a man in my life, I think a woman is nice." (Squeezing Jenny.)

Jenny giggled (which sent her breasts tumbling up and down). She said "ooohh, naughty girl, Eleanor, that tickles!"

Jenny was an inch or two shorter than Eleanor, so she stood on tip toes facing Eleanor, and held on to Eleanor's buttocks for support. Looking into Eleanor's eyes, she put her tongue into Eleanor's mouth. The men cheered and clapped, as the two naked education professionals kissed each other greedily.

Eleanor now held on to Jenny's buttocks. Their breasts squashed together. And their legs started to wobble.

Jenny couldn't stay on tip toes forever, but not to worry! There was plenty of Eleanor for her to lick a bit lower down. Jenny delicately rolled Eleanor's nipples around with her tongue and teeth. And she considerately rubbed at her boss's crotch while she was at it.

Eleanor began to pant; her head rolled back; her legs went all bandy; and she sank to the floor in a randy little swoon. But Jenny's blood was up! She knelt on the floor, shoulders under Eleanor's knees, bottom in the air, and licked the headmistress's cunt like a dog slobbering over a bone.

Eleanor went into great shudders of delight. The naked, sweaty woman thrashed her arms and legs, clutched her breasts and howled at the ceiling. One would judge her to be pleased.

Damned fine acting! Or was it? The men started to get a little uneasy – especially the ladies' prospective suitors. "Mark", murmured Mr Shaft, "when you were seeing Dr Twatte, she did like cock, didn't she?"

"Oh yes, Jim! Insatiable! I've got every detail written down in this little journal...."

"That's bloody typical of you, Swordsman."

Jenny Pratt (a real trouper!) wasn't content simply to lick Twatte's vagina. Jenny had given a lot of thought to the overall spectacle.

So she parted her thighs prettily; she arched her back; and she thrust her bottom upwards and outwards. From sessions at home with the mirrors, Jenny knew that this would be sure to give the guys a great view of the underside of her cunt. And then she ground her butt in a clockwise direction, to heighten the appeal.

She was, after all, a professional, and must present herself in a professional way!

Also on her mind was (of course) Vladimir. He would be driven into a frenzy by this. And hopefully, also maddened with jealousy, as the other blokes made 'appreciative' comments.

Because Jenny was still cross with Vladimir. That young man would have a lot of clit-licking to do, before she would let him back on to the old footing. (And when you think about it, he would have a lot of clit-licking to do, after she'd let him back on the old footing. He'd have a lot of it to do, full stop.)

These thoughts preoccupied Jenny, while she lapped away at Eleanor's cunt. She wasn't really paying attention to her own body. No doubt her own nether regions would be seeing some action. But that would take place later on.....

Then she was brought suddenly back to reality.

SLAVER! SLOBBER!! SLURP!!!*!!

What was this?! Some kind soul had just given her a big sloppy kiss on her fanny! And now they were 'following through' most excitingly!! Wow, that was nice!

Now it was Jenny's turn to buck and writhe and go cross-eyed and paw at her breasts. Eleanor was having to clamp Jenny's head between her thighs, to ensure that Jenny stayed 'on the job'! The men were guffawing and cheering. What the fuck was going on?

Let us wind back five minutes. To Fenella, sitting naked and embarrassed onBill Swett's knee.

Now, if a wily old bird like Virginia McGrott had been taken unawares by Bill, you can imagine that Fenella was no match for him. Bill very quickly got Fenella where he wanted her! His cunning fingers worked their way inside Miss Blowett's trembling snatch.

So, unnoticed by the others, Fenella was soon very flushed, very sprawled and very breathless. Bill Swett had lit a great flame of pleasure inside Fenella Blowett. It even beat last year's Berkshire Cup Final. The most delicious little tremors started to ripple up and down Fenella's tummy, thighs, breasts, and (of course) fanny.

Through a sort of randy mist, Fenella focussed on Eleanor and Jenny's writhing bodies. They were really trying hard for the school! She just couldn't sit on the sidelines, letting her pals do all the work. And suddenly, Fenella Blowett saw her duty very clear.

Fenella clambered (very reluctantly) off Bill's lap. She lowered herself down to the floor in a most ungainly way – legs buckled and cunt all a-splay. Fenella then galumphed over to her naked fellow professionals. They would be surprised!

As Jenny had predicted, it was quite easy to improvise. You didn't need to think. Fenella simply knelt down, clung hold of Jenny's thighs, and plunged her face into Jenny's hot and hairy cunt. Delicious!

Jenny reared and moaned and sobbed and quivered. Which Fenella took to be a good sign. So Fenella kept on doing what she was doing. And Jenny, sandwiched between Eleanor and Fenella, and head clamped between Eleanor's thighs, had to on doing what she was doing. And the men certainly weren't in any mood to stop them. So everyone just kept on splattering away at everyone else, until Eleanor and Jenny were all orgasm'd out.

The headmistress and her Head of Business Studies lay there naked on the carpet. Eyes closed, legs apart, knees up, cunts dribbling, clits throbbing and breasts heaving. Out for the count!

Which left Fenella with the ball at her feet. Jenny and Eleanor were temporarily out of action, so all eyes were on Fenella. Think fast, old girl!

Looking round wildly, she saw the buffet table. Ah, that would do! Fenella swept aside the paper plates and cutlery – if her idea came off, nobody would be needing them! She picked up the big jug of single cream, and emptied it over her head. Sticky and refreshing!

Then she clambered on to the table, wet buttocks slapping on it, as if she were a big sexy walrus. She lay down on her back on top of the table, and sluiced the big bowl of fresh fruit salad all over her torso. Rubbing the fruit over her tits, thighs, tummy and cunt. Then she said brightly: "Gather round, gentlemen! Dessert's ready!!"

In the ensuing fracas, nobody noticed Eleanor and Jenny totter to their feet. They were quite astonished to see Miss Blowett, Head of Games, committing a lewd act with a banana, while two blokes licked the cream off her breasts. What a great big sweet sticky delicious fruit tart!

At that moment, Vladimir hurried over to Jenny, and drew her into a corner.

Scratching her lovely white bottom thoughtfully, Eleanor assessed the situation. Her forces numbered four naked women. Their task was to 'entertain' eleven hungry blokes.

It seemed highly unlikely that Major Jizz or Dr McGrott would reappear. Bill Swett had nodded off in his chair. Vladimir and Jenny clearly had a lot to say to each other, a lot of kissing to do, and no sign at all that they wanted to play mixed doubles. Which was nice for Jenny, but it left Eleanor a bit short handed.

Doing the maths, that meant there were only her and Fenella left, and eight blokes to look after. Quite a challenge!

But the matter was taken out of Eleanor's hands. An arm crept round her waist – it was Jim Shaft. He was breathing very hard, and looked in urgent need, the poor dear man.

Recognising where her duty lay, Eleanor gave her bank manager a kiss. He returned the kiss hungrily. And suffice to say, within micro-seconds, Eleanor found herself flat out in a nearby bedroom, getting a stiff dose of Banker's Cock.

It was OK, but Jim wasn't that fit, and his technique needed to improve. Working out how best to put this to him, Eleanor fell asleep. So did Mr Shaft. Later in the night, they woke up and had another go, with improved results. And again, in the small hours of the morning. And again, around dawn. In fact, Jim was getting better all the time!

So much so, that when Eleanor finally woke up around 10 o'clock on the Sunday morning, her first thought was "Goody! Let's see if Jim's even better this time!"

But then it all came back to her. That little arithmetical problem she'd been trying to solve last night. Take 4 nude school teachers + 11 horny men. Subtract Virginia and Mayor Punk. Subtract Bill Swett. Subtract Jenny and Vladimir. Subtract Eleanor and Mr 'Surprisingly Exciting' Shaft. And your answer = Fenella getting a gang bang. Oh dear!

Eleanor tore out of the room, her breasts bouncing in wild panic. A bedroom door was ajar, and she peeked in. There was Fenella! Sat up in bed, looking quite cheery. "Oh, there you are, Eleanor!" called out her friend. "You turned in early last night."

"Oh, Fenella, I'm so sorry....What happened to you, with all those men?"

Fenella blushed a little. "Well, dear, there are some things that are private, you know...."

"Oh yes, of course, but – "

Fenella resumed, counting on her fingers. "Yes, let me see, there were six private things that happened to me. It was jolly good, you know, a bit like playing squash. Every ... errr ... encounter presenting different challenges, but you will always do well if you get a firm grip on the ... errr ... instrument, and make sure your weight's distributed properly."

Eleanor thought for a moment about this preposterous explanation of the Art of Love. Maybe Fenella's after hours 'sports' lessons with the tired stockbrokers would have worked quite well after all for 'Bob-a-Job' week.

Then she did a bit of mental arithmetic. Eleven men. Minus Major Jizz, Bill Swett, Mr Shaft and Vladimir Curtis. That left seven. But Fenella only mentioned six.

"Fenella, dear, did you ... errr ... say 'No' to anyone?"

Fenella giggled. "No, Eleanor, I felt it was my duty to say 'Yes' to anyone who was kind enough to ask. (And actually, I'm dating them all in turn next week, which should be fun!) But maybe I was a little deceitful with Mr Swordsman. He's not a very nice man, you know."

"So I told him that I would see him at 3 am in Room 4". Eleanor checked the door. This was Room 3. Room 4 was the room occupied by Mayor Jizz.

Eleanor walked into the Seraglio Room. Bill Swett was just waking up.

"Hi, Bill! Was there any disturbance in the night?"

Bill nodded. "Yes, the big foreign guy found Mark Swordsman climbing into bed with him, stark naked. I never knew Swordsman swung that way, but there's no telling. Anyway, the big baboon half killed Swordsman. The ambulance came for Swordsman about four in the morning. They say he'll be OK, but will be poorly for a few weeks."

"Thanks, Bill."

And then Dr Twatte thought: "I'm stark naked! It's 10 o'clock in the morning, and I took my knickers off at 10 o'clock last night. I've been nude around the clock!"

These were strange circumstances for a school headmistress to be having a chat with her caretaker. Eleanor caught sight of herself in the mirror above Bill's chair, and saw what Bill saw.

A tall, elegant naked brunette. Not too big a belly, considering her age – the fucking and nude frolics had certainly helped her waistline. A juicy, inviting cunt – ah, that really looks welcoming if I bend at the knees a little! And, though I say it myself, my tits are amazing! Look what happens when I shrug my shoulders – knocker landslide!

Bill started to pant and whimper a little.

"Sorry, Bill, where are my manners!" said Dr Twatte, bending over him very breast-ily and rummaging in his lap. "Bill, we've never really talked, have we? You were in the army, weren't you before coming here. Was it hard in Iraq?"

"Not as hard as it is now!" said Bill. (Ah, the old jokes, they're still the best, aren't they, readers!)

"Well, Bill", said Dr Twatte, starting to lower herself to the floor. "It's been a brilliant weekend. I never thought it would work out as well as this. And you were instrumental in it, weren't you? Because it was you who dug up all those secrets, wasn't it? And you're very good with your hands, aren't you?"

"I want to stay in touch with your important work, Bill" said the lovely naked woman. She unzipped Bill's flies with her teeth. "Why don't you come and see me after work – let's say the last Friday night of every month? I could give you a little strip show, and then park my fanny on your lap while you told me what you'd found. And then I could reward you, like this!"

And she wrapped her lips round Bill's cock. Her head bobbed up and down for a good long time, and then she pulled away. Just in time to admire a fine geyser of spunk! Then Dr Twatte kissed Bill, and wiggled off, very fannily, to get her clothes.

Leaving the paraplegic war hero sat in his wheelchair. He too had had a good weekend. And this, readers, is truly where the spirit of man never dies.

EPILOGUE

Three months later, Jenny Curtis arrives at the school for another gay day. She's now the school Bursar. (Quite a sudden promotion, as the previous Bursar was relieved of her duties at very short notice.)

In that capacity, Jenny gets first whack at the day's post. She settles herself rather gingerly in her chair. Vladimir was very 'attentive' last night. (Being married hasn't cooled his passion – yet.)

Usual huge mailbag from Eastern Europe for the Mayoress of Punk. The McGrott bullshit is working a treat in Moldova, where Virginia is now the object of cult worship.

Another massive bunch of flowers for Fenella. Who is it from this time? Oh, it's Councillor Splott. And he's inviting Fenella to Sandown Park. Where no doubt he'll lose a wad of public money on the horses, and then try to bang Fenella in the evening at the rate payers' expense. Ah well, that'll be another quid on the Council Tax then.

But then Jenny's guts unravel. She picks up the next letter from the pile. What's this? A letter franked 'Stuart Little, Estate Agent', and addressed to 'Ms Fanny Gash, Head of Business Studies, Humpton Girls School'!!

THE END (or is it?)