Mandy's Continuing Education Pt. 03

This story follows the 'Watching You Watching Me' series of stories and it is recommended that you read them first for background and references, as well as Parts 1 & 2 of this series. All characters in this series are over the age of 18, are healthy and disease free and live in that blissful, alternate reality in which birth control is easily and readily available.

I stood in the line for TSA at the airport looking forward to getting back to New Mexico and classes. Christmas break had been wonderful, for the most part, and I'd enjoyed being home, among the welcoming arms, hands, and other assorted body parts, of family and other loved ones. Seeing Sir had been a little awkward. Despite a call from Brantley, made while I'd been happily sucking his cock, returning me to the care and control of those at home, Mr. R refused to 'take advantage of the privilege' and touch me. He was, however, willing to watch whatever and whenever I might be inclined to show, and even to reciprocate within limits, jacking off while watching me masturbate (or while Ali and I ate each other's pussies or Matt and I fucked or...well, you get the idea). I'd kind of enjoyed watching him again, especially when the prize was hot cum sprayed over me, or Ali.

Still, I'd missed the Professor and the special relationship we had, the way he taught me, controlled and disciplined me and the very special lifestyle he lived. Some things weren't so very different from what I'd learned and experienced with Mr. R, but others... Well, others were very different indeed. Meanwhile, I missed my roomie Cami too. We'd progressed a little, from simply having her suckle me once or twice a day to suckling with mutual masturbation (at Professor's instruction and with his permission). She wanted to bring her boyfriend over to join us, but thus far Brantley refused to allow anyone else to touch or fuck me without his explicit permission and direction. I certainly hadn't been deprived in any way, I mused, remembering some of the poker nights and parties at which I'd served and been serviced by and for him.

Just remembering had me tingling and wet, despite the fact that I was well and freshly fucked in a mutual family farewell event that had included a yummy double penetration by Daddy and Matt while Mama had circled providing loving licks and touches to various balls and bums and boobs and getting her own tits sucked and finger fucked by each of us, and occasionally all of us together, while she and I both came several times. What a party it was! And now Daddy was up in the tower working and I knew that my departing flight couldn't be in safer, more experienced or caring hands. The TSA officer waved me on through and I quickly grabbed my purse, carry on and boots. Sliding my feet back into my Uggs I headed for the gate and settled down to wait, playing one of my favorite phone app games to while away the time. There was a text waiting for me from Brantley that he had missed me and was 'eager' to see me again. I sent a ditto message and smiley face while I settled in to wait to board.

When the announcement came to board my flight, I switched off my phone, grabbed my bags and boarded. Stashing my carryon overhead and my purse under my seat, I grabbed my book and settled into my window seat, peering out for one last lingering look at Peavine and surrounds. I felt, rather than heard, the sounds of someone sitting in the aisle seat but didn't look over, until the familiar smell of a certain man's body hit me like a brick.

"Brantley!!!"

His mouth covered mine as he leaned across the adjoining seat, our tongues instantly seeking and making contact.

He reached to tug on my ponytail, "Surprise, little girl! I decided I couldn't wait another minute to see you again."

Looking at the book I clutched he tsked disapprovingly, and stood to rummage through a backpack in the overhead.

"Here, give me that book and read this instead," he directed, taking my science fiction epic and handing me a paperback copy of 'The Story of O'.

I'd read it already over the summer, out of curiosity but would read it again if he wanted. Settling back into my seat and tightening my seat belt, I listened to the safety lecture as we began to taxi out to the runway. The Professor seemed to be paying rapt attention too, but his near hand rested between my thighs under my skirt. I'd mostly stopped wearing slacks unless he asked me to on some rare occasion. It was much easier to show, or play, wearing skirts and dresses and we'd gone shopping together to pick out clothes that were specifically tailored with that in mind. Right now I was wearing a soft, loose cowl neck sweater over a short, pleated wool skirt. Brantley's hand was covered, and I had room to spread my legs for him. Neither of us paid any attention to the flight attendant checking that all seat belts were connected and the man didn't say a word to either of us to stop.

After we took off and the seat belt light was turned off Brantley leaned toward me.

"I want you to go to the bathroom, remove your panties and wait for my knock."

My nipples went rigid immediately as I nodded, getting to my feet. He stepped into the aisle allowing me past him and I headed for the bathrooms. The on the left was already occupied but I knew he could see me enter the bathroom on the right, closing and locking the door. Looking around at the confined space I thought it was a very good thing that both Brantley and I were slender. Even so... There was a quiet knock and I unlocked the door kneeling up on the toilet lid as he entered and locked the door again.

"Come here..." he growled, pulling me back toward him.

It took us some maneuvering but we managed to turn, so we were face to face. Resting my ass on the counter I watched eagerly as he stroked himself to full erection sliding forward into me.

"Play with yourself Mandy. Make yourself cum!" he murmured in my ear.

He was pounding into me so hard that my head was rocking back on my neck hitting something behind me. He growled again, his teeth clamping down against my neck firmly. The fingers I had pressed between us rubbed my clit, while his hands gripped my ass hard.

"Now, Brantly...I'm cumming now!" I whispered intensely as my body started to clench and spasm around his.

He grunted a response, and I felt his cock swell inside me, jerking with his orgasm. He leaned against me groaning as his spunk filled me to overflowing and I heard the drip, drip of it hitting the floor. Grabbing my panties off the counter he pulled away from me, using them to dry himself and wipe my pussy with them as well, before shoving them in his pants pocket. He kissed me hard and let himself out. I cleaned up as well as possible before letting myself out too. The flight attendant who'd seen us during the seat belt check had also noticed the bathroom occupancy issue. He gave me a grin and a wink but once again, didn't report us and I settled back in my seat to read for the remainder of the short flight.

Albuquerque airport seems vast and sprawling compared to Reno and it seemed to take forever to get to the luggage carousel and retrieve my hold baggage. Brantley went to get his car which was a nice change rather than renting a car or having to wait for the bus.

As he started driving I realized that he was grumbling, apparently to himself, that modern cars aren't made for sex. He complained intermittently about damned cramped seats and spaces and consoles... I smiled to myself. I seldom thought about him being twice my age (or more), but moments like this brought it to my attention.

Touching his thigh I asked softly, "Could we, maybe, pull off the road for a bit?"

He glanced at me and I licked my lips, then pointedly sucked my index finger. He stared for a second before nodding.

"Good idea," he continued in a grumble, "can't do a damn thing with this console in the way..."

He touched the console and then reached across it to fondle me.

"Strip for me..."

It wasn't really a question, but I nodded happily, "Oooooo, yes Professor!"

He grinned at me through his beard. I always called him Professor or Sir in front of others, but usually addressed him as Brant or Brantley in private. He knew it was a special event and I was feeling particularly horny and submissive when I called him Professor or Sir in private. I hadn't ever called him Master and he hadn't required it, but on occasion, in my fantasies I served as slave to his mastery. Those fantasies were always particularly exciting.

I pulled my sweater over my head and tossed it in the backseat, lifting my hips to push my skirt down so I could slither out of it. He had fine leather seats and thinking for a moment I straightened my skirt over the seat and under my ass to absorb any moisture that I leaked... I knew for a fact that I was already damp, even if not actually leaking yet.

Brantley pulled off at one of the scenic view picnic spots -- a rickety wood picnic table and a roof of ocotillo poles were the only real amenities. He looked around at the inside of the car but past experience had already taught us the difficulty of accomplishing much of anything inside the small space. Flipping the toggle for the trunk he exited and went around to the back, but he hadn't given me any instructions so I waited. I wasn't extremely well trained or behaved but I was learning. When he opened my door he had a thick, wool blanket over his arm.

"Come," was all he said.

It was all he needed to say. I followed him to the table where he spread out the blanket, motioning me up. Initially I laid face down with my knees tucked under me, my ass at the edge of the table but I heard his 'tsk' of disapproval. Looking to him for direction I saw him standing at the end of the table, semi-erect dick in hand. I crawled toward him but he grabbed my pony tail, tugging me over and around until I was laying on my back, head hanging over the edge of the table. He moved forward and I opened my mouth eagerly. The table seemed the perfect height and as he moved forward I could smell our previous encounter on him, and taste the dried remnants of our mingled cum. He stiffened quickly as he slid in and out of my mouth and soon was penetrating my throat with each thrust. I could feel my neck and throat swelling around him as he slid deep into my mouth and wished that I knew what it looked like for him.

"Spread your legs. I want to see your cunt while I fuck your mouth," he ordered with hoarsely passionate tones.

Pulling up my knees and pressing my feet together, I spread my legs as wide as possible, reaching down to hold the folds of my vulva open too. I longed to feel his teeth, tongue and beard against me, but he seemed to have missed my mouth as much as my cunt or ass. It would take some time for us to catch up, I realized, but I would certainly enjoy the process at least as much as he did. My hips tilted up and I could feel the cool desert breeze on my hot, wet flesh. It was almost enough stimulation for me to cum, especially when a passing trucker saluted us with a loud blast of his (or her) horn. Brantley stiffened, pushing against me until my nose was pressed tight against his balls, and the first blasts of his cum shot down my throat threatening to choke me. He pulled back then until my lips were encircling the rim of his cock head and several more rockets of his salty emission filled my mouth. I swallowed, gently sucking and licking the bulbous head to make sure I'd gotten every drop, before releasing his cock to fall free.

He helped lift me to a sitting position, kissing my forehead, "God, I missed you little girl!"

I reached to hug him, "I missed you too, Professor...a lot!"

He chuckled, "In spite of all the fucking and sucking and cunnilingus and other goings on at home?"

I nodded, "They were all lovely and I'd missed them, but..."

"But what?"

"They weren't you, Sir!"

He tilted up my chin gently, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips, but made no comment, motioning me down from the table.

"Do you need to pee?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright. Squat here."

He squatted opposite me, his hands on my knees.

"Spread yourself."

I shivered and gooseflesh rose over my breasts and belly as my nipples crinkled. I spread myself open to his gaze and cut loose, the hot golden stream splashing against the sand and gravel as the acrid scent rose between us. His eyes gleamed as he watched, and I recalled times in the shower when he had pissed against my breasts, belly and sex. Ali's father had introduced me to the concept of pee play in sex, so when Brant had pissed against me, I just spread myself, welcoming the heat and pressure of his stream. He had pinned me against the shower wall and entered me with a savagery unusual, even for him. With one of my legs draped over his muscular arm and pinned to my ribs I'd been hard pressed to keep my balance on the slippery tiles of the shower stall, especially once I began to orgasm. I knew, as I watched his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare, that he was remembering that too and his cock gave a throbbing twitch, starting to stir back to life. He noticed my attention on him as the last dribbles of my urine pattered down.

Reaching between my legs to tickle my clit, he teased, "Not yet, little girl! I'm too damn old for all this frolicking!"

Giggling I shook my head in denial, "Not that I've noticed so far, Sir!"

"Humph," he grunted, straightening to his feet and pulling me up against him.

I was glad to be against his body heat. It was close to sunset and the winter wind had developed a definite chill.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Always! You know that!" I laughed in response.

He laughed too, "I do for a fact! Green chile cheeseburger?"

"Oh please yes! And fries?"

"Fine, but if we get fat we'll have to give up fucking in Boeing's bathrooms," he teased, smacking my ass sharply. "Best put your clothes back on if we're going out to eat."

"Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir. Please may I have another, Sir?"

I giggled and wiggled my ass at him but he shook his head laughing, "Get in the car, girl! I'm too old and tired to paddle you right now."

I stuck out my bottom lip pretending to pout but truthfully happy that he was feeling playful and in an obviously permissive, lenient mood. It was dark when we reached the restaurant and Brantley parked in the back. I was hungry and hurrying but he pinned me against the back wall, his hand easily slipping under my sweater to cup my breast. His knee forced my legs apart as he urgently dragged my skirt to my waist and pushed forward into me. His lips were hot as they devoured mine and he thrust into me hard, half a dozen times. I could feel the scrape of the rough adobe wall against my shoulders and ass but met his intensity with my own, lifting one leg around his hip to pull him tight.

"Stop," he growled.

Pulling out and away from me he turned me to face the wall, pressing me against it until my overfull breasts ached.

"Spread your ass!"

I shivered and complied. One large hand cupped my vulva, his other reached between my legs. Gathering moisture from my pussy he lubricated my anus and his cock briefly before pressing the fat, mushroom head of his cock into my tight sphincter. I hissed briefly at the momentary pain and pressure, and he leaned against me, using his full body weight to drive his shaft home in my bowels.

"You're still tight, little girl. Your Daddy must not have fucked your ass with his big cock, eh?"

"Nooo," I groaned, trying to arch my back to take him deeper.

As I did, the fingers against my sex buried themselves in my cunt, the heel of his hand pressing firmly against my clit and rubbing.

"Ohhhh God, Brant...so good." I mewled. "Make me cum...please...make me cum!" I pleaded.

"Alright then!"

His other hand snaked around my hip until both hands had fingers strumming my clitoris and buried in my cunt. I was already sensitive and aroused from our earlier adventures and my moisture all but dripped down my thighs. When Brantley began to withdraw his cock almost entirely, before ramming back home inside me I came, bucking, and thrashing and all but screaming. My inner muscles clamped and cramped around his fingers and shaft, even as my back arched and my hips thrust against his. I felt the swell and pulse of his climax deep in my bowels and he buried his face against my neck.

"Welcome back, Amanda girl," he murmured, "welcome back."