The Cross-Country CalendarbyBaxter72©
Until I retired a few years ago, I had worked as an English professor at a small New England girls college. Since the college was small, all the professors also were required to coach one sport. I hated all sports, so the choice for me was hard. I didn't know or care anything about baseball, basketball, or hockey, so finally I settled on track, or cross country running, since I figured you didn't have to know anything much about that to coach it.
There were eight girls on the cross-country team, and as you would expect, all of them were trim and fit. Of the eight, at least six were good-looking, and one of them, Casey, was quite good-looking. She was about five-foot-six with sandy blonde hair and a friendly, open nature. So naturally, I made her my "pet."
I have written about my exploits as a professor with college girls here before, so I don't feel there is anything I need to apologize for. As Popeye would have said: "I am what I am." One of the good things about college girls is that most of them are of legal age, are looking for experience, and have the right to consent. I have never forced a girl into having sex, I have never exchanged grades for sex, and no one has ever come back to complain. But I will admit that one of the things I always enjoyed as a professor at a girls college was the ready and willing availability of young pussy. While teaching may have been my profession, enjoying young pussy was my hobby—and I was good at it.
All you had to do was to come up with a plan, and if you've read any of my other stories, you know that I had many plans. Since I hated to coach sports, I came up with, for my own entertainment, a plan. I called it The Cross-Country Calendar.
Hanging out and having coffee at the student lounge was a common practice of all the professors, so I was sitting there one day with Casey and enjoying a café latte.
"If we're going to compete at other colleges, which I think we should do, we need to have some kind of a fund-raising drive," Casey said.
"Maybe you could have a bake sale," I suggested.
"A bake sale? Professor Baxter, bake sales disappeared in the eighteen-nineties, when you were young," she commented, knowing how to hurt someone of "a certain age." "We need something better than that."
"How about a calendar?" I suggested.
"What do you mean?"
"I read about this New England quilting club that wanted to raise money, so all of the women, ranging in age up to seventy, posed in the nude with their quilts. It was such a good idea that a fire department did it later—with men. And they both made a lot of money."
"I remember that!" she said with a laugh. "Yeah, I guess that would be one way we could do it—if everyone would agree to it. And if the college would allow it."
"I could ask them. I'm sure they would agree to it if it was in good fun—and tasteful."
So the seed had been planted. I waited for it to bear fruit—and I could "taste" the fruit already.
And the idea did bear fruit. About a week later.
"I've been talking about it with the other girls....," Casey said as we were sitting together again in the student lounge.
"Talking about what?"
"The calendar idea. And I think they would be up for it. But it's an old idea by this time, and I think it would only appeal to guys. I think I—we—have a better idea."
"Well, just about all of the girls have boyfriends, and most of them are over at Andover College. I'm sure they would be happy to 'participate' if we split the profits with them. So how about a calendar showing cross-country girls with their favorite boyfriends in their favorite sexual positions? Just simulated of course."
"My God, that sounds like a great idea! We could sell a calendar like that all across the country."
"So how do we do it?"
I had already thought about that. Their morning training run, which was four miles down a dirt road through a forest near the campus, ended at a large woodland meadow, which was always deserted. After a short rest there, they would turn and run back.
"How about the meadow?" I suggested. "No one is out there, so we would have plenty of privacy to take pictures. You could wear your uniforms, and we could all go out there by car. The road is passable as long as it's dry."
"That sounds great, but who would take the pictures and direct the shoot?"
"I could do that. I'm proficient with a camera. But would all the girls agree to it? They would have to be naked for an hour or two."
"They said they would—all but Jenny and Diane." Jenny and Diane were the least attractive of the eight girls—and that tells you something about women. The more attractive a woman is, the more likely you will be to talk her out of her clothes.
"What about the boys?"
"They love the idea—all of them. We could give them a free copy of the calendar as payment."
So we all drove out that Sunday morning at 8 a.m. to the meadow. Six girls and five boys, one of the boys, Casey's boyfriend, did not show up. I found out later that she did not invite him.
I had brought along a good digital camera. I figured it would be wise not to run the pictures through a photo processing shop. With a digital, I could just print them out on my home printer.
"Okay, I've been thinking about this and I've figured out how we can do it," I said. "The pictures in the calendar will be tasteful and discreet, but they will be nude, and they will be depicting—or appear to be depicting—your favorite sexual act. You will have to tell me what it is, and I will tell you my suggested set up. But I do need to warn you that you are going to have to be completely nude for most of the next two hours. So if you can't handle that, then you should leave." No one left. "Okay then, off with your clothes!"
Few things are more rewarding to a coach than to watch his team of beautiful cross-country runners get naked—which they all did. I especially enjoyed watching Casey, and she knew I was watching her, since she smiled at me.
The boys seemed to be a little more shy, but soon they were naked as well. Some of them were even starting to sprout a hard-on.
Soon, I was standing in the middle of six beautiful naked girls and five naked young men.
And it's worth commenting at this point on the pubic hair—or lack of it. Three of the girls, two brunette and one blonde, had natural pubic hair, two others had one-inch wide and trimmed "landing strips", and one of them, Casey, was completely bald. She smiled at my noticing it.
"Surprise!" she said.
So I began collecting the preferences. Heather and Donald, to my shock, liked to do anal "so I'll be sure not to get pregnant," she said. So I set up a scenario with her on all fours on the ground and Donald behind her—tastefully of course.
Jackie was so light that her athletic boyfriend Jeff like to turn her upside down and eat her out while she sucked him. That was a little harder to shoot—but I managed.
Bonnie liked to do it "doggy style", and boyfriend Larry was happy to satisfy her. I shot them from the front.
Angela and Dave simply liked the missionary style, so that was easy to shoot.
Becky admitted that what she liked best was the feeling of a Logan's penis growing in her mouth—and she also knew she could not get pregnant that way. So I shot them from behind. Logan standing up, and Becky on her knees in front of him.
The only one left was Casey, who had her hand curled lightly across her muff like that Venus picture. "What do you want to do?" I asked her.
"I want to do the coach," she replied. "I think the coach should be in the calendar too."
"Right!" Angela cried. The rest of them agreed as well. "The coach! The coach"
"So what's your favorite thing?" Casey asked with a smile.
"Ah, I guess oral sex."
"Then take your clothes off."
"I have to take my clothes off for that?"
"Of course. We did."
"Who will take the picture?"
"I will!" Angela cried again.
So I handed her the camera and took my jogging suit off. I was not wearing any underwear. Casey got down on her knees in front of me and to my shock took my still limp member and put it into her mouth. It was not limp for long.
"Yeah Casey!" Angela shouted, and the rest of them applauded as well.
Casey took it out of her mouth. "This is better than getting Gatorade dumped over you, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is."
"You can come in my mouth if you want. I don't mind. You can even have sex with me if you want."
So I did. Both. I came in her mouth. She swallowed it all. Then I laid her down on the ground and pushed my still-hard dick into her. Then I turned her over so she was straddling me—so Angela could take a better picture, which she did. To my surprise, I came again—as the rest cheered.
A week later, I called a special meeting of the cross-country track team.
"I'm really sorry to have to tell you that the college has put a veto on the calendar idea," I said. "We can't publish it after all."
There was a general groan around the room.
"I had the impression they would permit it when it was just going to be the girls in modest tasteful poses. But when they found out it was going to be simulated sex acts, they forbid it."
"Shit!" said Angela.
And that was the general reaction of the rest.
"What will become of the pictures?" Becky asked. I had already printed them out to show to everyone.
"I will of course destroy them," I said, "I'm really sorry about this, but it's beyond my control." That wasn't exactly true, since I had never approached the administration about doing the idea in the first place, and I had never approached them about the resolution.
I met with Casey the following day at the student lounge.
"So now what will we do to try and raise money?" she asked sadly.
"How about a bake sale?"
She glared at me. But lucky for me I still had some wonderful pictures of her smiling as she rode me naked like a toboggan. Good pictures of the rest too. They were assembled in my private photo album, which I kept in the safe.
I thought of Casey often after that. She truly was the kind of a girl who could put the "cunt" into cross-country running.