The Life and CFNM Times of Herbert Smith Ch. 02

"Ugh!" she screamed, as she moved deftly out of harm's way. The unexpectedness of it made everyone laugh. Amy pulled up hard once again, forcing out a very long rope of sperm that flew over everything.

"My feet, baby!" Constance cried. "My feet!"

Again, everyone in the room started to laugh, including Herbert. He was proud that he could ejaculate with such power, even if everyone thought it amusing.

"Okay, mom," Amy replied. "Here...catch!"

And with that she coaxed out a series of multiple cumshots that each landed directly on her mother's feet. Within seconds Constance's toes were thoroughly saturated with sperm.

"I love this!" Fiona laughed as she watched Amy provoke one giant rope of semen after another from Herbert's enormous tool.

Herbert was still ejaculating when Amy suddenly decided to let go of his cock to give her tired hand a rest. Despite the lack of manual stimulation, Herbert's penis continued to fire off round after round of sticky white semen—all of it landing squarely on Constance's toes. The girls found it especially amusing watching the great tool rear back and forth of its own accord like some possessed jack in the box. Herbert was amazed himself, reacting with astonishment at the incredible amount of cum his unmanned cock was firing off. By the time he was done ejaculating, Constance's lower torso was entirely awash in his prodigious offering.

"Jesus Christ!" William exclaimed. "Where the hell did all that come from?"

Michael thought the whole thing very amusing. "Herbert's got grandfather's gift all right. I used to be able to cum like that myself when I was his age."

Constance quickly rose up from her seat. "I'm glad to see it runs in the family," she noted. "But right now I've got to get in the shower and clean up all this mess."

"Here, let me," Michael said, taking his wife's feet and cleaning each one with a towel. "I'll draw your bath."

"Thank you, darling," she replied. "Join me?"

"Of course!"

"Well done, boys!" Constance said to her stepsons. "Goodnight!"

Michael took his beautiful wife in his arms and carried her upstairs without saying a word. A long, thin strand of semen hung from the tip of Herbert's penis. He was still experiencing a series of mini orgasms: something he had never felt before.

"You," Amy said to him as she took her index finger and placed it under the dangling sperm, manipulating a portion of the viscous fluid onto the tip of her fingernail, "have a very naughty penis!"

With that, the headstrong beauty opened her mouth and sucked the sperm off her finger. Herbert was in love.

************

Iris Fields was an astoundingly beautiful young woman of twenty-eight, with long red hair and striking green eyes. She was of medium height with long and exquisitely proportioned legs that gave one the illusion that they were longer than they actually were. The few, faint freckles that adorned the area around her nose and face added, rather than detracted from, a charming sexiness to her otherwise flawless complexion. She had been a teacher of English at the Point Lookout high school for five years and was adored both by faculty and students. She was strict but fair, always ready to smile, and lived her life by her own self-styled code of ethics.

She was also a devotee of CFNM. This, of course, no one knew—not even her best friend. She spent hour after hour on the Internet searching the various CFNM web sites for anything she could find titillating. One of the things she enjoyed most was watching naked guys with huge dicks getting jacked off by clothed women—especially if those women were of the dominant type and the men were black. She particularly enjoyed watching men jerk themselves off in front of the women, as they often did in the Japanese CFNM videos. She was also turned on by watching men get spanked and ball-busted, although she did not like hard domination or images of wanton cruelty, even if they were feigned. All this she kept a secret and shared with no one.

It had always been Iris's contention that it was best to keep certain things to oneself and not to advertise to the world your personal predilections lest the world use such information against you. To look at her one would think she was the most demure person in the world. But little did anyone know that underneath that placid surface lurked the churning waters of Scylla and Charybdis, between which she perpetually navigated in order to keep her lusts at bay. But she was growing tired of the self-imposed stricture of maintaining a virtuous lifestyle at the expense of sexual expression.

For several years Iris had been contemplating a change from her rather staid lifestyle toward something more left of center. She wanted to experience something novel—something that would free her from the narrow confines of her rightwing, Christian upbringing. What prompted this desire for change not even she fully understood, revealing itself to her as a general feeling of dissatisfaction with life that made her want to search beyond the limitations of her provincial world in the hopes of discovering some new sexual awareness that so far had not been realized. How she would begin her journey into this novel sexual world was something that preyed upon her mind night and day. Her preoccupation with such thoughts often made her feel as though she was betraying her innermost convictions—that she was somehow immoral for simply thinking of them. Yet the urgent needs of the body, and the sexual imaginings that resulted from them, demanded fulfillment in the tangible world and could no longer be denied.

She had never been married, and was unattached even now. But despite a long list of boyfriends, no one had ever satisfied, let alone awoken in her, the wanton sexuality that was waiting, like a dried piece of kindling, the spark that would ignite it into a raging inferno. Little did she know that all that was soon about to change.

It was sometime during the second half of the spring semester that Iris suddenly realized that she had become fixated with Herbert. He was not only one of her best pupils, he was also extremely handsome, kind, and most importantly, deferential to women. Frederick and William had both been in her English class and she had thought very highly of them. Both boys had graduated a few years earlier, but the way they treated her and the female pupils in the school was always exemplary, and this fact was not lost upon her. She would smile every time they would volunteer to help one of the girls with her math homework, or to hold a door open for them or to carry their books. Herbert was no less devoted to pleasing women than his older brothers were, and followed their example in every way. She found this remarkable in someone so young.

For his part, Herbert looked up to Iris with the utmost respect and admiration, not only for her intellectual and moral qualities, but also for her unsurpassed beauty. She knew how he felt about her; the way he strove to outperform his classmates—in order to impress her; the way he listened attentively to all she had to say; and especially the way in which he devoted himself to making her happy. In every way imaginable, he represented to her the perfect student: honest, intelligent, and unselfish. But it was not these characteristics that had been the cause of her fixation—it was Herbert's penis.

At first she wouldn't even admit it to herself, thinking that the huge bulge that appeared so often in his pants should not have instilled such impure thoughts within her. But it did. More than once she had seen him play with himself under his desk, or adjust his pants to accommodate what must have been for him the very uncomfortable experience of trying to tame his hardening penis by constantly moving about in his chair. Unfortunately, he and one other boy were the only two males in the class, so he was forced to be as discreet as possible so as not to draw attention to himself from the female students. This tactic did not always work however. And after a short while, most of the girls knew what was up. Mercifully for him, the girls were subtle in their teasing. But there were a few that found infinite delight in his discomfort, eyeing his enormous package as if it were the most amusing thing on earth.

Iris however found nothing funny about Herbert's recurring erection problems. He was only eighteen, and she knew that his hormones were on overdrive. It happened to all boys his age. She could only imagine how difficult it must have been for him to concentrate on his studies while trying desperately to ignore the demands of his lower body. She noticed sometimes that he would run to the boy's room after class, holding his books in front of his groin, hoping no one would notice the straining penis within his jeans, imaging him standing over the toilet furiously jerking his swollen prick until a torrent of hot, white seed splashed into the bowl, offering him welcome relief. The only thing that could have improved the picture was for her to replace his hand with hers, deftly manipulating the bloated shaft until she could feel the pent-up cum rising within it, and watching with breathless anticipation as she provoked him to ejaculate his sperm high into the air.

With such thoughts in her mind, Iris stood before her students with their most recent and corrected English tests in hand. It was the beginning of the third week in May, and this had been the last quiz her students were to take prior to their final exams. As she walked around the room handing out the tests, she was amused by the gleeful exultations of those students who had earned a passing grade as well as those whose groans indicated that they had earned a less than satisfactory result. But what she did not find amusing, and what concerned her most, was that Herbert, who unfailingly received A's on all his tests, had now failed to achieve even a C.

As she handed him the test, she watched his smile turn to a frown. She could see the boy was visibly upset but said nothing to him at that moment except that she wanted to see him after class. She had noticed that over the past few weeks his concentration in class had been waning and she couldn't understand why. Although her concern for the boy was real, it was also a chance to get him alone.

Herbert refused to look at his teacher, knowing full well that within those startlingly beautiful aquamarine eyes was a hint of disappointment at his academic failure. He watched the clock tick away the minutes until at last the bell rang, signaling the end of class and the end of the school day.

As he watched his classmates exit the room, he slunk down into his chair feeling anger at himself for not achieving the superior grade he knew he was capable of. The truth, though he would not admit it to himself, was that he had become so engrossed in the new CFNM lifestyle he was compelled to adopt that he took it for granted that he would pass all his exams with only a modicum of study, and this, of course, was simply untrue. Bright though he was, Herbert still needed time to absorb the materials he was given to study, and by adopting a nonchalant attitude toward his schoolwork, he was inviting disaster by perpetrating this deception. It wasn't only English he was failing; it was all of his subjects that were now in jeopardy.

"So, Herbert," Iris said, looking at him with concerned eyes from across her desk, "tell me what's going on."

Herbert sank even further down in his chair, his right foot tapping the underside of the desk in nervous anticipation. "I don't know what you mean."

"You don't?" she replied with a vague smile. "Maybe you should look at the exam I just handed you. You scored a 37 percent on that test. I want to know why."

It was not like Herbert to be evasive, but to tell her the truth about what was really going on in his household, to blame it on his preoccupation with CFNM, would never work. "I didn't study for it, that's all."

He said it with such half-hearted conviction that Iris simply didn't buy it.

"You didn't study for it? You, the one student in this class who has never earned any grade less than an A? How is this possible?"

"I don't know," he replied feebly. "I got lazy I guess."

Iris stared at him for a moment, her face registering complete surprise.

"Lazy?" she asked. "Herbert Smith, lazy? Since when? In all the time I've know you, you have always shown great ambition to succeed. It just comes as a complete shock to me to see my top student suddenly failing. And we're not talking about a marginal grade here. You got a D on that test, Herbert. No one in this class, not even my most uninspired students, got such a low grade. In fact, I've learned from some of your other teachers that you're not doing so well in their classes either. So I repeat: what's going on?"

Herbert's mind was racing to find some kind of suitable answer to her question. What was he going to use as an excuse? What rationale would she accept for his apparent, and seemingly exemplary, failure to live up to his own exacting standards? As he sat there under her intense scrutiny, he felt like an insect being observed under a microscope, exposed and vulnerable and unable to get away. Suddenly, unexpectedly, an idea came to him.

"Well," he began, as he raised himself up in his chair, "my father is leaving on an overseas business trip tomorrow and…well…I'm going to kind of miss him."

For a moment Iris's face softened, her gaze less penetrating. "Oh," she said. "Well, I can understand that. You had mentioned before that your dad spends a lot of time away from home on business."

"A lot of time," Herbert emphasized.

"And this is what you attribute to your failing grade?"

"Well, no," he replied stumbling for words. "That's only part of it. It's just that…well, it's my stepmother. She's kind of in charge of things now that dad's going away. You know, it's just different."

"In what way?"

Herbert shifted his body so that he was angled away from his teacher, almost in a defensive posture. He wasn't even aware that he had done this until he suddenly realized that he was facing the windows, using his body as a shield, much like his words, to deflect her incessant inquiry.

"Well, she's the boss now," he replied with a sigh of resignation. "I mean, she's not my real mother, right? But I have to obey her don't I?"

"And you don't like that?" Iris asked him. "Having to obey her?"

"Sometimes I don't mind and sometimes I do," he replied honestly. "Don't get me wrong. She's a very nice person. It's just that she has three daughters, you know? It's a lot to get used to."

Iris nodded silently and observed him for a moment, feeling sympathy for the young man whose life seemed to be going through the throes of a major transition. "New additions to the family, huh?" she said genially. "Not an easy thing to get accustomed to. I can understand that." She rose from her chair and walked around to the front of her desk and sat on it, her impeccably lovely legs crossed one over the other. "I'm not inclined to pry into the private lives of my students, Herbert," she resumed, "but I can't help but feel that you're not really being completely honest with me. Call it female intuition, but when I see such a brilliant student as yourself falling by the wayside I am forced to conclude that there are forces at work here other than a simple change in the size of one's family."

As she finished her speech, she brought her right leg up and rested it upon her left leg, exposing the full extent of her limbs to Herbert's view. He sighed heavily at the wondrous sight, imagining what it would be like to lavish kisses upon her delicate calves.

"Now, I don't want to have to bring your stepmother in on this," she continued, "but if there is something wrong at home I need to know."

"No, no," he replied anxiously. "There's nothing wrong, really. It's just that her lifestyle…"

"Yes?"

Herbert realized that he had slipped up. Even as he mentioned the word "lifestyle" he knew he was in trouble. And it was all because of those impossibly beautiful legs, those long, luscious, perfectly shaped legs that beckoned him to fling himself down on his knees before them in worshipful obedience.

"What about her lifestyle?" Iris insisted, feeling her power over him grow stronger each second.

He was having trouble concentrating. The elegant, yet intimidating, physical attributes of his teacher were eroding his capacity to think rationally. He was completely absorbed with her legs, and Iris knew it. To induce him to give up his secrets, she removed both of her shoes, letting him see her perfect feet in all their seductive splendor. He almost chocked on his next words.

"She…she…" He stopped abruptly, feeling a twinge in his pants around the area of his cock. "She practices an alternative kind of lifestyle."

"I see. And do you approve of this lifestyle?"

Again, Herbert's prick did a little dance of its own at the though that maybe he would indeed have to divulge his secrets to her. "Ah, well, yeah. I guess I do."

Iris ran her hand down one of her legs in a slow and sensual way. "Would you care to tell me what type of lifestyle she leads?"

Herbert knew that it would be exceedingly difficult to lie to his teacher. She seemed to possess a sixth sense about life and he was terrible at telling lies. But more importantly, he felt that his teacher really did want to know the truth, and that in telling her, she would somehow not react with disgust, but would understand.

"Oh, boy," he said nervously, trying to think of the best way to explain his current situation. Despite his anxiety, his prick was now on its way to becoming fully erect, and he knew he could not hide this fact from his teacher. It was his lust that drove him. "My step mom has a thing for…it's called…CFNM."

Iris stared at him for a moment not believing what she had just heard. To hear those forbidden letters uttered aloud was something she never could have imagined being spoken of by anyone at school, let alone an 18-year-old boy. Yet, in spite of his surprising admission, she found herself overwhelming intrigued by the fact that he knew what the CFNM lifestyle was—or at least seemed to know. This alone excited her to no end, and she unashamedly admitted to him that she, too, understood what the acronym meant.

"Clothed female, naked male," she said. "I know all about it."

"You do?" Herbert replied, astonished that his prim and proper teacher had any inkling at all about the unique fetish.

"Herbert," Iris said, suddenly sounding very serious now that she realized she was walking upon shaky ground, "you do realize that I have to be very, very discreet about…you know…"

"I know," he said. "I promise that I will never tell anyone about anything we discuss."

Iris smiled. She knew he would keep his word—no matter what. "I have no doubts about that, Herbert. But you have to understand that if it did get out that I had, let's say, inclinations of this sort, and that I was involved with a minor, I could lose my job and most probably find myself in prison."

"I would never do anything to hurt you, Ms. Fields. Never."

"I believe you. And I trust you." She jumped down from her desk and grabbed the yardstick that was lying on an adjoining table. "Okay, she said. "Now get up and straddle your desk."

Herbert thought she was kidding. "What for?"

"I'm going to spank you."

"Why? What did I do?"

"Two things: you failed the test when you could have easily passed it, and you lied to me. Now do as I say young man and then, and only then, will you get your reward."

At first Herbert thought she was only joking, but her strict demeanor told him she meant business. Without a word, and despite the fact that his huge prick was straining to be let free, he bent over the desk and let her administer a dozen hard whacks upon his ass with the yardstick.