A Cuckoo in the Nest

Mrs. Jean Evans looked up angrily from her knitting. She placed her knitting needles down carefully on her desk at the front of the classroom and stood up.

"Girls! You're making far too much noise! What is my rule during needlework lessons?"

"We must be able to hear your needles clicking and you must be able to hear the clock ticking," chanted the thirty members of the needlework class.

"That's right," snapped the irate teacher, "and at present I can't hear either because of your noise! Be quiet, or I'll lose my temper!"

The door to the classroom opened just as Jean Evans was finishing her tirade. Olwen Simpson sauntered through on her way to the staff room without a word, but Jean saw the smirk on her face. She glanced up at the clock.

"Damn the bitch!" she thought. "She was always the first into the staff room at break time. She sent her children out into the schoolyard to play a few minutes early every day. But Jean had a plan, which put a smirk on her own face. She'd put a stop to Olwen Simpson's so-obvious efforts to win the affections of John Lewis, the headmaster. She, Jean Evans, was the one and only member of staff that John Lewis would be fucking if she got her way!

"Put your work away quietly girls, and go out to play," she said, sitting down and putting her own knitting into her voluminous handbag. The girls filed out quietly, and Jean quickly made her way to the staff room.

She opened the door and walked into a smog of blue tobacco smoke. She coughed and walked over to the window, which she opened as wide as possible.

"Bloody hell, Jean," grumbled John Lewis, taking the pipe from his mouth to speak. "Are you trying to give me pneumonia? Shut the window, for goodness' sake!"

"I'm sorry, John," replied Jean with a smile. "I don't mind the aroma of your pipe tobacco. It's the stench from those foul cigars that Mrs. Simpson smokes that I can't bear!"

"Oh dear!" said Olwen, her cigar waggling up and down as she spoke. "Someone's in a foul mood. Shouting at her needlework class, ranting over a little cigar smoke. Got your period, have you Jean?"

"Don't be so disgusting," retorted Jean testily. John Lewis laughed and resumed his pipe smoking.

Gradually the staff room filled up as the rest of the staff came in for their afternoon break. Jean sat next to her colleague, Melvin Roberts. He was responsible for taking all the boys in Jean's and his own class for craftwork on a Friday afternoon, whilst Jean taught needlework to all the girls from both classes. Friday afternoons were a favourite for both teachers. Craftwork and needlework required a minimum of actual teaching, so both Jean and Melvin could relax and wait for school to end and the weekend to begin.

The bell to signal the end of break sounded, and everyone got to their feet.

"Here we go. Last lap before the weekend!" said Melvin with a grin.

"Jean, can I see you for a minute please?" called John Lewis. She turned and smiled at him.

"Of course, John," she replied, glaring at Olwen who was going past her and who winked suggestively at her colleague.

He waited until everybody else had left, and the door to the staff rom was firmly shut.

"Are you still on for tomorrow afternoon?" he asked anxiously. "Dorothy has got some charity fund raiser going on in church. I'll be free for a good couple of hours."

Dorothy was John's wife, and she and Jean attended the same church. In fact, Jean was supposed to attend the same charity event as the head master's wife tomorrow afternoon. She made up her mind quickly.

"I can meet you at two o'clock," she said. "I've told Duncan that I'll be in the same church event as Dorothy tomorrow afternoon, so he's arranged to take my nephew and a couple of his friends to the cinema. I'll make some excuse to the ladies on the committee and slip away to meet you."

Duncan was Jean's husband. She was very fond of him, despite the fact that he was unimaginative, pedantic, and basically a rather dull man. Also, he had the smallest cock imaginable, and he tended to suffer from premature ejaculation.

John licked his lips. He grinned at her wolfishly, and reached out and touched one of Jean's small, pert tits. She felt him searching for her nipple and when he found it, he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'll have these two beauties out on Saturday afternoon," he grinned, and we'll have some fun with them."

Her breath had quickened and deepened, he noted. She needed a bit of stimulation. He squeezed the sensitive nipple hard, and she moaned. They both knew how much she loved and desired pain as foreplay.

"Friday night," he said softly. "That must mean Duncan gets to exert his marital rights. Are you looking forward to getting fucked tonight, Jean?"

He noticed that she winced at his use of the F word. It amused him to be as crude and as foul-mouthed as possible in front of her. She was a prim and proper woman, who just happened to like vigorous, dirty sex. She was prepared to put up with his swearing and his crudeness in exchange for a really good fuck session once every now and again.

John released her nipple, and she started to breath normally again. She blushed as she realised that he was still waiting for an answer to his previous question.

"No, I'm not looking forward to it," she admitted, " but it is my duty to give my husband his conjugal rights. And this new birth control pill means I don't have to worry about falling pregnant."

"From what I've heard, Duncan can't keep it hard long enough to get you knocked up!" grinned the head master.

"Duncan's not well blessed in either the size or stamina category," Jean admitted, "but he's a decent man, and you see to my physical needs. I admit that I am already looking forward to tomorrow's assignation!"

John picked up his pipe from the desk and puffed it into life again. He blew a stream of pungent smoke into the air.

"Looking forward,eh?" he smirked. "Does that mean that tight cunt of yours is nice and wet then? Shall we have a look see?"

"Don't be silly," replied Jean stiffly, although a little voice in her head was telling her to pull her skirt up so that John could see (and possibly smell) the extent of her excitement. "I have a class to get to!"

She stalked off back to her class, hoping that the thought of another hour of knitting would quench the fire between her legs.

At the end of the school day, Jean walked out through the school yard. She was annoyed to see John Lewis and Olwen Simpson walking to the staff car park together. They were deep in conversation, and took no notice of her. Jean carried on walking towards the bus stop, where she would wait for the service bus to take her home. Unlike Olwen, she didn't drive. She didn't smoke either. But she was comforted by the thought that unlike her, Olwen bloody Simpson wasn't meeting John Lewis tomorrow afternoon!

As soon as she got home, Jean changed out if her school clothes. She dressed in an old blouse and a cotton frock and her fluffy bedroom slippers. Before starting preparation for the evening meal, she put on a pinafore to protect her clothes.

When Duncan arrived home, he pecked his wife on the cheek.

"Something smells good," he smiled, settling down in his favourite armchair with his evening newspaper. He read silently for about forty minutes, and then folded his paper neatly and switched on the radio to hear the six o'clock news.

Jean served supper just as the bulletin came to an end. Duncan smiled at her.

"Perfect timing, as usual. What a good little housewife you are!"

Jean blushed. As they ate their supper of cottage pie, carrots and frozen peas, they chatted companionably about school, Duncan's work, the film Duncan was taking the boys to see tomorrow and the church charity event. Jean's adulterous meeting wasn't mentioned.

After supper, Duncan listened to a play on the radio whilst Jean washed up and tidied the kitchen. She brought them both a cup of cocoa which they drank together as they listened to the rest of the radio play. Duncan seemed to enjoy it, but Jean, who hadn't heard the start, was baffled by the plot.

At nine o' clock, Duncan stood up and stretched, giving an exaggerated yawn.

"I'm off to bed," he announced. "Don't be long, please. It is Friday night, in case you'd forgotten!"

Jean smiled at him.

"I'll just wash these cups and the milk saucepan up ," she said, "and I'll be up straightaway. You can warm the bed up by the time I come up!"

Duncan was in bed in his pyjamas when Jean came up. She brought him a glass of water and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and get changed for bed. She put on her nightdress and then her dressing gown. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was satisfied with what she saw. She turned out the light and went into the bedroom.

Duncan had already turned his bedside lamp off. Jean took off her dressing gown and got into her side off the bed and lay on her back.

"Light off, Jean love," he said. "You know I like to do it in the dark!"

Jean switched off her bedside lamp and in the darkness she felt Duncan roll on top of her. He fumbled with her nightdress and she asked if he'd prefer if she took it off.

"No need for that," he replied tugging at the hem. She raised her bum off the bed to help him. Then she felt him fumbling with his pyjamas, and he uttered an "ah" of satisfaction as he managed to get his cock out.

"Sergeant Stiffy reporting for duty," he said with a grin, and Jean dutifully laughed. He said the same thing every Friday night. She opened her legs and waited.

Duncan held his cock in one hand and felt for her cunt with the other. Satisfied that he'd found his target, he thrust himself at her. And missed. His cock banged into the top of her thigh.

"Sorry," he grunted and tried again. More by luck than judgement, he got it inside her.

"That's better!" he muttered, and began a frantic rocking movement. Jean could hardly feel him inside her. Her brain was screaming "Kiss me at least! Play with my boobies! Suck my nipples!" but her mouth stayed shut, her voice silent.

Less than three minutes later, Duncan reached his climax. Grunting with the effort, his cock gave two brief squirts, and he gasped with relief. His cock was already a shrivelled wreck. He rolled off Jean, tucked his tiny manhood back into his pyjama trousers and wished his wife goodnight. Thirty seconds later he began to snore. Jean turned onto her side and tried to get to sleep herself. She was comforted by the thought of some pleasure the following afternoon.

The following morning was no different to any ordinary Saturday. Duncan and Jean stayed in bed until eight o'clock. There was the usual amount of cuddling, and even the occasional brief kiss, but when Jean's hand 'accidentally' touched Duncan's cock he looked at her in amazement.

"What's got into you?" he asked. "I hope you're not turning into one of those sexual maniacs that the newspapers are so full of these days. The Swinging Sixties? I regret the day they scrapped National Service. That's what some of these long haired lay-abouts could do with!"

He got up and stomped off to the bathroom. Jean lay there alone. Her cunt was on fire, and she touched it briefly. She'd heard about some women who masturbated to get satisfaction, but her late mother's warning rang in her ears and she moved her hand away quickly.

"If you practice such wicked and disgusting habits, you'll go blind!" her mother had constantly warned her.

Trying to put thoughts of what she was going to be doing that afternoon, Jean got up and went to the bathroom. She passed Duncan on his way back to the bedroom. No words were spoken.

Jean washed her hands and face, combed her hair and returned to the bedroom to dress. Duncan had gone downstairs. She dressed quickly and hurried downstairs after him.

Breakfast was eaten in silence and Jean took the dirty dishes out to the kitchen to do the washing up. To her amazement, Duncan followed her out about five minutes later and picked up a tea towel and began to dry the dishes.

"Let's not quarrel," he said softly. "I do love you. It's just that I've read about these couples who spend all their time doing sex. It drains the husband and makes the wife a wanton slut. Neither of us want that, do we?"

"Yes!" screamed the voice in Jean's head. "Of course not, darling," she said dutifully.

Later on, Duncan took her shopping to the new supermarket on the edge of town. It was much more convenient, and Jean was able to get everything she needed in the one shop. Duncan even got out of the car to put her bags in the boot, although she had to return her shopping trolley herself.

Back home, she quickly prepared lunch and they had just finished eating when there was a knock on the front door. Duncan went to answer it, and Jean cleared the table.

It was Christopher, her nephew with two of his school pals. Jean had taught all three of them a few years previously. They were all in the new Secondary school now. She smiled as Christopher greeted her with his usual, "Hi, Aunty Jean" and Anthony and Gareth both blushed and muttered, "Hello Mrs. Evans."

Duncan clapped his hands.

"Right then," he smiled, "we'll be off. Unless you want a hand with the washing up?"

Jean shook her head.

"You go," she replied. "You don't want to miss the start of the film."

Alone in the house, Jean quickly washed up and left the dishes to drip dry on the draining board.

She hurried upstairs and changed her clothes, putting on a suspender belt and black stockings, and a pair of silk knickers. She remembered that John hated petticoats, so she left that off and wore only a blouse and a skirt over her bra and panties. She put on her new court shoes with a Cuban heel, and hurried off to the bus stop.

She was the first to arrive, which suited her plans perfectly. When she heard Dorothy and John entering the church hall, she hurried into the toilet. As they entered the main hall, she flushed the cistern and walked slowly out. Dorothy spotted her straight away.

"Oh, Jean. There you are bright and early!" she smiled. Then she stopped and looked again.

"What ever is the matter my dear?" she asked.

In the toilet, Jean had shoved her fingers down her throat, causing her to gag and tears to roll down her cheeks. She looked very pale as well.

Jean looked up and tried to smile.

"I'm sorry, Dorothy," she said weakly, "I seem to have got my dates mixed up. I've just started my cycle."

Dorothy looked horrified, more by the fact that John was standing by her and heard what she'd said, rather than that Jean had mentioned her period.

She took Jean's arm solicitously.

"Oh my dear you must go home and go to bed with a hot water bottle," she said. "John will give you a lift home."

John nodded vigorously.

In no time at all, they were driving out of the town towards the wooded area on the outskirts. Jean seemed to have made a miraculous recovery. She turned to face John and said in her most submissive voice,

"I'm sorry I 've been a naughty girl, Uncle John. I told Aunty Dorothy a lie."

John glanced at her with a frown on his face.

"You know you're not supposed to tell lies, Jean," he said sternly. "I'm afraid this is one time too many. I am going to have to punish you."

John drove into the wood and stopped at the barrier which prevented vehicles from going any further. Getting out, he took a key out of his pocket and proceeded to unlock the barrier, and raise it.

John's son, Paul, worked for the Forestry Commission, Jean knew, and John had taken the opportunity to have his master key copied. They frequently used the wood for their secret meetings, and this being a Saturday, there would be no-one working. They would be able to get on with what they wanted without interruption.

Having moved the car forward, John got out again and re-locked the barrier. Returning go the car, he drove on for about half a mile until they came to a parking space for forestry vehicles. He turned off the ignition.

"Let's go," he said with a grin.

They got out and made their way to their regular assignation spot. It was a clearing, deep in the heart of the wood. As they walked there in silence, John collected a few fallen branches. Jean noted this, and shivered in anticipation.

"Stop!"

She obeyed the command instantly.

"Strip!"

Quickly she undid the buttons on her blouse. She slipped it off and folded it neatly before placing it on the fallen tree trunk that she always used to keep her clothes off the floor.

She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. The skirt was placed on top of her blouse.

"You can leave the stockings and suspenders," John barked, rubbing his cock through his trousers. "But get that bra and your knickers off. I want you almost naked before I punish you!"

Jean obeyed, trembling with anticipation. Soon she stood, clad only in her stockings and suspenders, legs apart and with her hands on her head. This was her standard 'display' stance.

John nodded approvingly. It was pleasantly warm in the clearing, but Jean's nipples were as hard as bullets. He gripped both of them between his fingers and thumbs and squeezed. Jean moaned.

"Thank you Uncle John." she said breathlessly.

John continued to squeeze the tender buds. He loved nipple torture. His breath quickened as he began to tug at them. Jean winced, and bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.

And then it was over. John released her nipples, and she almost stumbled. She regained her balance and watched as he picked up a thin, dry stick from the pile he had collected on the way here. She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone very dry.

John stroked the stick across her tits, and without warning, raised it and brought it down sharply across the small, pert mounds. Jean gasped at the sudden burning pain. John smiled.

"That's one, you naughty girl. This will teach you to tell lies!"

He repeated his action, only this time he hit upwards, striking the ultra tender under tit flesh. Jean hopped about in agony.

"Stand still!" he told her sharply. She obeyed.

Eight strokes in, the branch snapped as he delivered a particularly vicious cut across both her nipples. He tossed it aside and picked up a replacement.

"That's enough for your tits," I think, he said, ignoring Jean's look of distaste as he mentioned tits. "Now I think it's time to cane your arse. Bend over. Hands on your knees."

Once again, Jean obeyed, wordlessly. She felt the new branch being tapped softly across her bum cheeks.

Crack! John had not paused, merely brought the branch down much harder this time. Jean felt a thin, red hot line of pain and she swayed forward. He waited until she was still and then he hit her again. Harder this time. An angry red stripe appeared almost immediately, which seemed to spur him on.

Again and again the thin, whippy branch lashed into her tender arse. Both were breathing heavily now. John flung his improvised cane down and took off his jacket. He laid it down on the leafy ground.

"On your knees, bitch," he commanded, and Jean obeyed instantly. She didn't like being caned so severely, but she knew it turned John on to punish her, and she certainly liked what she knew was going to happen next.

On her knees, her face was at the same level as his cock. She looked up at him beseachingly. He nodded, wordlessly.

She reached up and unzipped him. Slipping her small hand into his trousers, she grinned to herself. No underpants! With difficulty she got his cock out. It was magnificent! The length, girth and weight of it always gave her a thrill.

It wasn't fully hard yet, and it still was three times the size of Duncan's little boy's cock. Gently, she peeled his foreskin back, revealing a smooth, purple mushroom head.

"May I kiss it, Uncle John?" she asked in her little girl voice.