Lucky: "Mom says girls don't count"

*Caveats: *

*All sexual activity or interest is between eighteen year-olds and older.*

*This is the third part in a series but it works as a stand-alone. If you like it I recommend going back and reading the previous two parts.*

*Written by an Irishman taking down Americanisms. So its going to be a trans-Atlantic hodgepodge. You'd have thought by teaching American high schoolers I'd have picked up how to write like the natives. But I teach History, not English, so who cares? The school's just grateful I keep them out of the corridors.*

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It was now week six of the new semester. I had got through a month and a half of teaching seniors. Without fucking any of them. Not exactly a record, I appreciate, but you haven't seen these lot.

We were in Lucky, in the middle of nowhere, USA. The land around was arid, the town was sprawling, not wealthy and largely forgotten. Most the men worked out of town and only came back on weekends or when they'd been laid off. I'd moved here from Dublin with my wife. My friends thought I was mad.

I wasn't mad. I just wanted a change and some peace. Also, I had come through Lucky on a work trip once and realised just how much a dedicated philanderer like me could get away with there. Discretion is built in when no-one cares.

So I applied for a job a the local and only high school, was given it instantly, and moved myself and my wife.

You have no idea. Jesus, literally within weeks of starting the job and just in the school itself --- the vast, dysfunctional high school --- I was being presented with a constant buffet of diversions.

I slept with students and their mothers, mostly. If anyone picked up on it they didn't pull me up on it. Oh, and Jess Colson, my Teacher's Assistant, who, by the time of this story years later, I had managed to knock up a few times, to the absurd misplaced delight of her unwitting husband.

The wife was happy because the plan was we'd move on to California after a few years. She'd always wanted to live in California. She worked from home, was never much for socialising, and never really liked Dublin anyway, for all that it was her home town.

It had been a few years now. I was coming to terms with the fact that this might my last year in Lucky before we moved to California. There weren't many excuses I could think of to put it off longer.

I wondered what I was going to do to make this year count, make it *really* count.

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The problem with making it count was that I'd promised Jess, and myself, that I would be a good lad and stay clear of my own students this year. That was all well and good so long as I had other outlets. So far this semester I had just two.

Outlet one, Jess, had called in sick a day ago. She hadn't told me why. So not only was I not able to get my end away with a quickie between lessons as she complained unconvincingly about not wanting another kid so why would I never pull out (see the 'A Town Called Lucky: Prologue'). It also meant it was just me doing the actual teaching and paperwork this week.

On the plus side, a friend of mine, Leanne Conway, a Phys Ed supply teacher, was in town covering. She was a classic self-described bull dyke of the old school, tall, handsome, fond of hockey. Leanne and I always got on. Possibly it was the shared interest in predating on our students.

So at least I had someone to take lunch with.

I shared my theory with her over said lunches: This year these new seniors, the girls at least, were friskier and more hamfistedly flirtatious than even the average recently-turned-eighteen Lucky girls. She concurred. Except she was perfectly pleased with the discovery. Blast Jess and blast me for paying attention to her.

Outlet two is surely my wife, you say? Au contraire. What would be the point of moving from Dublin to dust-bowel-USA if my wife was an outlet for my sexual frustrations? Philanderer, I said, remember? Honestly.

In any case my elegant water-nymph-like, semi-sexually-active and increasingly distant wife was out of town. For work she wrote for technical journals, guides and so on. There was, she had told me, a convention on in California.

Her absence did present opportunities. It opened up more evenings to go hunting, for starters.

No, outlet no.2 was Savanna.

Savanna was the young, insecure mother of a troublesome girl in the lower grades. She was also, much more intriguingly for me, the aunt of and landlady for an ex-student of mine, Brooke, who had graduated last year.

Brooke had reminded me of my wife in many ways, which meant she intimidated me a little, which meant I'd not tried anything with her until an abortive fumble on the very last day of term 'A Town Called Lucky: Brooke'). I held an entirely inappropriate flame for her. Casually fucking the students and/or their mothers was one thing, and par for the course in Lucky; but a man in his late thirties pining for a nineteen year old he hadn't seen since before the Summer was unseemly.

I had been meaning to ask Savanna about Brooke, but hadn't ever had the nerve. Funny that, you can talk your way into having your wicked way with a woman, but not ask her, "How's the family?" Admittedly it might be a little harder because what I actually wanted to ask is, "How's your lithe, mysterious and dark eyed niece that reminds me so of my wife fifteen years ago?"

Anyway, Savanna had been fun over the last three weeks or so. I'd had her plump and not at all unattractive white trash ass laid out on my desk after work plenty of times, when Jess wasn't around, as Jess didn't know and didn't need to. For Savanna I used the dusty, largely ignored, official office that Jess and I didn't otherwise bother going into much. No need to make things awkward by having the two bump into each other.

But now even Savanna was AWOL (without *my* leave, certainly) as she had left town to bail out her sister, Brooke's estranged mother, from some trouble she got her self in a couple States over.

An abstinent week for me then.

You ever see a street addict when they find out someone's stolen the gear they'd hid under a dumpster?

Yeah. Lucky didn't need to see its tall, dark, charming Irish history teacher crawling up walls and tearing at his hair.

So, an abstinent week... Fuck that.

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I had decided to use the evenings' freedoms to give something back to the community. After all, I had basically moved to Lucky to exploit their bored womenfolk, and exploit I had. Probably I owed it a bit of giving back.

The school put on adult community lessons in the evenings. There was no college in town, not even a hairdressing college or one of those business advice 'colleges' they advertise on local radio. So the school filled in where it could.

They had been on at me half-heartedly for a while to do more community lessons, so I put myself down and decided to hold an evening History course on 'The Long 19th Century and Social Changes in Europe', twice a week, to last the rest of the semester. I put my name down on the Monday; first lesson: that Tuesday.

I had done them before, when my arm had been twisted, so I knew the crowd.

It was an eclectic bunch, usually. A mix of recently graduated nineteen and twenty year-olds who had finally realised that their only chance of escaping Lucky was to have a qualification that went beyond just about scraping a High School Diploma; there were the keen amateurs who just thought they loved history, and some of them really did; and there were the retired, of course, who signed up to more or less whatever was available.

The mix of people really got to the core of the central question around those parts: Why bother doing anything in Lucky? Answer: To escape before you had to settle in to a horrible job, or to distract you from your horrible job, or to pass the time until you died.

This time I'd picked the subject title as a very small and diverting form of personal amusement; to see just *how* keen those amateur historians really were. Not for them this time the Pyramids ("Yeah, but they Egyptians didn't really build them, did they, sir. I saw this program..."), nor dashing Confederate cavalry officers ("Right, so, could the South have won if..."), and no Omaha Beach ("Was Churchill British or English? You're British, right? What's it like in London?")

Nope. Hit them with Gladstone's dry-as-a-communion-wafer liberal reforms, wash it down with a cup of cold Metternich.

It, almost literally, the least I could do, really, after several years of exploiting the opportunities this town afforded. A bit of unpaid tutoring. Otherwise this really was just an opportunistic stop off for me, between grand old Dublin and beautiful balmy California. Like a loan shark who rinses the locals before moving on when it got too hot, but does some voluntary litter picking on the weekends to make amends.

OK not a loan shark, I'm terrible with amortization.

A sex shark.

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The Tuesday evening community lesson came, the Tuesday evening community lesson went.

The turn-out was about as expected and they were precisely as engaged as expected. Except for Millie. I hadn't been expecting Millie.

Millie had been in the school the year before. She never took my classes so I didn't know her very well. I'd just admired her ass in the corridors. And her tits. And her bouncy, irrepressible manner. And everything else, really.

She was a cutie for sure.

After the evening class was over Millie was taking her time to pack up and was giving me not-so-subtle looks. I decided to relieve my pent up tension with a single controlled explosion.

I shouldn't have my students this year, Jess? OK. You got it.

But community students didn't count, right? They were real people with real jobs. Millie was barely even a teenager anymore. Look at me, growing up, exclusively sleeping with women that were more than half my age.

Yeah. I decided. This would definitely not count as sleeping with my students, so why not Millie? She would be the same age as Brooke, I thought, idly.

Millie the talkative student, I remember my colleagues describing her as.

Talkative, I was to learn, didn't quite cover it.

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We went back to her place in my car. She lived with her mother and her younger sister in an even more run down part of town.

He mother wasn't in. She worked late shifts at a bar. Her sister, she said, would probably be over at her boyfriend's place.

She took me upstairs by the hand and as soon as we were through the door to her room she started stripping off.

Literally, as we were still walking towards the bed, she dropped my hand and started pulling off her clothes, without even looking back at me. As she did she was telling me about her home, about her bed and how she'd just got a better one, about her day.

Then she went over behind the bed, naked, and knelt down facing away from me to rummage through a low set of drawers. She pulled out a night-dress, held it up for inspection, put it back, picked out another, slipped it on (still talking about the bed, believe it or not) and only then hopped cheerfully up onto the bed.

I was momentarily thrown by her whole casual, chattering and not especially sultry scene-setting. But the final view made up for it.

She was a pretty brunette with long hair. Short-ish, slim but not bony. She had braces, flush freckled cheeks and happy, slightly unsure smile. Maybe it was an unsure smile because of the braces, maybe he made her a little nervous.

She'd picked out a silvery golden night-dress that shimmered and she'd sat on the bed with her knees pulled up, hands on the knees. Her firm plump breasts were pressed together and utterly unignorable. She was in her first flush of real womanhood and she positively glowed.

I stripped down slowly, laying my suit out neatly on a chair as she watched. I got up onto the bed and kissed her.

She asked me if I liked body. Of course I did. I was a tonic.

I rolled her over so she was lying on her stomach and slowly pulled the silver-golden fabric up her thighs, like unwrapping a chocolate.

She balanced her pretty head in her cupped hands, her now bare legs and ass swinging gently back and forth as an enticement, her cute toes curling and uncurling.

I pounced.

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Even as we were fucking she kept talking.

To start with she'd wanted to know who else I'd slept with, whether I slept with any of the students at school, whether I'd slept with the hot young maths teacher who had just joined (I had no idea who she meant), whether I had a wife or a girlfriend.

I didn't say anything. I was concentrating on her exquisitely tight cunt.

Then she asked if I wanted to know who she'd slept with.

I grunted, affirmatively.

That set off the unstoppable...

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"I was mostly still a good Catholic girl until about a year ago. 'Cept when those three men from the church would take me down to the basement and take turns cumming in my mouth...

"But that was, you know, only a couple times. And they never made me do anything else. Yeah, I was still pretty innocent even through all that. I kind of thought they were blowjobs at the time, but now I realise they were basically just putting their helmet in my mouth and wanking themselves off.

"I mean, I was basically innocent until my older sister Nancy got me last year. Half sister. She kind of got me set up for her boyfriend. 'Boyfriend'. Ha.

"I was really nervous but she was like, 'he really likes you, he just really wants us all to have some fun together'. Whatever.

"We were waiting for him in our underwear. *My* underwear that she picked out for both of us because she thought mine looked cute-sexy not slut-sexy like hers. On *my* bed. Right here.

"He made me so nervous when he came in. He was this biker. You know, from the MC, the Club? You know them? They're one-percenters or two-percenters or whatever they call themselves. He has these tattoos and bare arms and he's big and has this mean grin.

"Nancy gave me a drink and told me she'd put happy juice in it to make me relax. I might have been innocent but I wasn't stupid. I drank it anyway though, 'cause I guess I wanted to not be all there. Like, whatever, this isn't such a great idea, but I said I'd do it, she begged me to, said it was super important for her. So whatever. I think, 'just take the drink and get on with it'.

"I was only half there after that. I don't really remember everything. She did things to me while he watched. Which I wasn't expecting her to do. Then he join---"

I wasn't having her skip over that particular tease. I wanted detail.

"--- Oh come on! Do I have to? Did your dick just get harder? Why are guys always such perverts? You always love this stuff. Any way she's only my half-sister, its not, like, super wrong.

"Girls don't count, mom says, whenever shes drunk and her boyfriend wants me to mess round with them both. I think she's joking. Still. Gross. Never going to. Her guy is too much a creep.

"But she's right. Girls don't really count, not in Lucky anyway.

"I don't know exactly what we did together, or they did to me. I mean I think I do but its like a dream.

"She kissed me, like deeply, tongues and everything. I was feeling tingly, probably the juice but I was super, super sensitive. Then she kissed down my neck and all the way down to my boobs. She kissed them. A lot. I don't think she's really into girls but I think she's into boobs.

"Or maybe she's just into my boobs. I mean, they're pretty great right?

"She's kind of boyish looking compared to me, short hair and flat chested. So maybe that's it. Like its masturbating really for her because she wants my body.

"That's what I mostly remember, her kissing on my boobs. Then she was... She was eating me out? Or was that much later, while he was fucking her? Genuinely, I can't really remember. I was fading in and out.

"Then he fucked me. I remember this bit really clearly. It was my first time.

"He wanted my sister holding my legs up and I was on my back. He was a perv. He wanted her to like suck my toes but she obviously wasn't into it so she just like licked and kissed up my legs. That was way better and was kind of hot actually.

"I mean, ew, sucking my toes. That would have been weirder than her actually going down on me. Which she did actually do, obviously. I'm just saying, toes would have been wierder.

"Yeah then he fucked me like that and it hurt. Then it didn't hurt anymore and she was still kissing my calf like she wanted me to be in to it and she started stroking my clit and it all felt good. Probably that was the happy juice as well because I think I passed out after that.

"Woke up on my stomach and he was still doing me but from behind now, kind of like we are now, only he wasn't going as hard as you 'cause he'd already come. I could tell because I had cum in my hair and on my face and in my eyelashes even.

"And I could taste... I guess it was pussy?

"It could have been mine, never tasted my own pussy. I'm not super kinky or anything. He could gone from my pussy to sticking it in my mouth for a bit before he came on my face and hair.

"I guess it could have been Nancy's, if they made me go down on her or she sat on my face or whatever. Can you eat someone out when you're totally spaced? I don't know, I've still never done it, that I remember, don't want to.

"Maybe she did just sit on my face. That's the sort of thing he would have wanted her to do.

"Doesn't matter if she did though. Doesn't count if don't remember it. Just because I tasted pussy. Still not lesbian.

"Anyway when I came to Nancy was just sitting there watching us, waiting her turn, kind of looking awkward. She hadn't even got out her bra. *My* bra. An old one from when I was like thirteen or something because she wouldn't fill out my actual now bras.

"And I felt like, disgusted, a bit, with all the jizz and the pussy taste and wondering if I'd ate out my own sister and the being fucked while I was asleep and that.

"But also, kind of... Enjoying her just having to watch? Like, yeah bitch, that's what you get. Bench time. You gave him something way tighter."

I could attest she was pretty damn tight, that was for sure.

"He did fuck her next though. Eventually. She went down on me then when he did her. Yeah, I remember, it was definitely then when she went down on me, not earlier.

"I came. A lot. She's really good with her tongue.

I started counting backwards through the Greek alphabet under my breath, eyes closed.

"Anyway that was my first time. Crazy huh?

It hadn't worked. I took a deep breath and slowed down to cool off. Her breezy cascade of filth was pushing me to a climax a lot faster than I had intended. I needed to hear the rest of the tale, for starters.

Can you believe that for all her chattering she still found the attention to flex her vaginal muscles, on and off, right when I wasn't expecting it? Well, she did.

After some slow, ginger thrusts I was able to get back into a rhythm again.

Millie wasn't phased, she didn't even pause.

"She moved in with him. Nancy. Became his, well, whatever they call 'girlfriends' in the MC. Sweeties? Pieces? Total whore-bags who date rape their own family? They don't call them girlfriends anyway. I think some members also have normal civvie girlfriends and wives that aren't allowed in the club house, but that definitely isn't Nancy. Nancy barely gets out of the club house, unless its on the back of his Harley.

"I found out from a guy friend who knew one of the patched members how it works. If a girl wants to join she has to find a patched member to sponsor them. Then she has to set up that member with another girl, of that guy's choice. He chose me, she did it, so I was her ticket and she got in. I don't think she's a proper member though. I don't think it works like that for the girls. I think she's just 'his'. They're crazy in the MC.