Natalie Plays with Mr Herrick Ch. 03

As usual on Literotica, these kinds of stories are a lot more fun if you read the chapters in sequence. But of course you don't have to. Enjoy!

* * *

"Regular tutoring" was, at first, something I insisted we set up at school. Natalie was resistant at first; she'd pouted, her skirted legs indignantly crossed, as we spoke about it before school a couple days after she'd babysat. "I don't get it," she said slowly. "Your ugly wife has basically given us a free pass to fuck in her bed. Why wouldn't we take advantage of her stupidity?"

"You don't get it, Natalie," I explained again, carefully. "I can't just ask her to leave the house every time you come over for 'tutoring.' She's not as dumb as you think; she'd figure it out soon. Besides, where would you suggest I tell her to go?"

She glared at me for a long second. "See, this is the problem with you," she said calmly. "You're too much of a pussy to stand up to your woman. I've obviously seen it myself a few times now, but apparently it's a universal thing with you." She shrugged. "Fine. It's one thing to let a woman like me control your cock, but if you're going to let a pitiful fat bitch like your wife control your brain, well, I guess I'll just have to wait you out. Too bad; I thought that maneuver the other night with the milk showed me something I could use, something I could respect about you. But I guess not."

She stood up, smoothing her skirt, looking very prim for today's classes. As always, she was expertly made up, her taste excellent. I couldn't help picturing her naked as she stood there. "We'll meet here, after school or whenever else I feel like it. You can pleasure me however I like, and I'll blow you. It won't be the same as what I got in your bed the other night, but I guess I'll just have to put up with your lack of imagination until you decide to grow a pair. Not literally; I know you've already got testes." She eyed me up and down. "We can start this afternoon, on my free period."

And she'd shown up on schedule, locking the door, folding her clothing, and attacking me with her usual soullessness; we'd ended up 69ing on the desk. Naturally, I'd been on the bottom. At one point I'd thought dully about how surreal all this was, as I watched her narrow, naked ass writhing above me, her skinny thighs clamped hard against my ears as I lapped desperately at her trimmed pussy. She tasted coppery and warm, the flesh around her opening turning bright pink as I did my best. My chin was plastered against her smooth thighs.

"Uh," she'd grunted softly, the fingers of both her hands clutching my balls. "Suck on that pussy, Mr Herrick. Keep going." She'd been doing some very good work of her own, giving her clinical and precise effort as she ran her mouth rhythmically up and down my straining cock. Due to the reverse angle, she couldn't give my balls her usual attention, but my pubes were now completely plastered down by her thick saliva.

This was my very first 69, and I too was symied by the reverse angle. My wife had always been embarrassed about getting her pussy munched, so my practice in that area was badly outdated. But I knew Natalie wasn't very experienced either, so I hoped my enthusiasm could make up for whatever technique I lacked. I was, of course, aware that ladies liked having their clit played with during oral, but Natalie was so tight it was hard to find hers. So I pointed my tongue, poked it as far underneath her as I could get, and buried my nose in her crotch as I stabbed vaguely at where her hair began.

She tolerated me for a few more minutes, continuing to lavish her attention on my dick, but it was clear already that she was in no danger of cumming, and once she realized that, she figured she'd just go ahead and end things quickly. She shifted her position, driving her ass into the air as she pulled herself away from my tired lips and tongue, then doubled down on my cock, arching her back to straighten her neck so that she could take me deep; as I looked down past my own hairy torso, I caught her bulging throat and the underside of her dangling little breasts, the nipples as hard as usual, one hand still working my balls on the far side; the other hand was directly above my head, prying herself open from below so that she could frig herself. All I could smell was her.

I saw a trickle of saliva inch slowly down my shaft, and her lips followed; her chin was brushing my matted pubes now, her throat choking my glans as she gagged, and it was all too much; as usual, she took my cum like a pro, not needing my strangled warning, her fingers' sure grip on my balls telling her what was going to happen. Her swollen throat bobbed and quivered as I fired my semen into it, gasping and moaning. The long-fingered hand on her pussy didn't stop above me; this woman knew her own anatomy, and those fingers did precisely what they needed to do. I watched, enthralled, as her thumb and forefinger found her elusive clit, the middle finger digging grimly for her g-spot, and then she was twitching, her mouth finished with my slimy penis, gasping as she came.

She laid her head on the desk between my legs, her mouth opening in orgasm, her nose brushing my sweaty balls. The pussy above me shone with her fluids, now frothing slightly as she stirred herself gently down; a thin trail of clear fluid ran faintly down her thigh, and I vainly tried to lick at it. Her head snapped back up to look at me, though, and I could have sworn she appreciated the effort. At least a little bit.

"I was less excited by that than you were," she told me coolly after it was over. "Figure out a way to get me into bed," she advised gravely. "Soon. I need sex."

"I'll do my best."

"Quickly, or I might have to find some other willing male." She touched up her pale pink lipstick, then patted my shoulder. "Thanks for the tutoring. I'll see you tomorrow morning for Student Council."

* * *

The main agenda item the next morning was the annual car wash, and there was dissention in the ranks from the start. "Absolutely not," I told the assembled kids. "There was trouble last year."

"Trouble?" Natalie said sharply, her position as president giving her the right to snap at me. "No way. What kind of trouble?"

"Well, there were complaints. You know, about the swimsuits."

"They're bikinis, Mr Herrick," she told me flatly. "Nobody actually swims in them."

"Be that as it may." I frowned and tried to be assertive. "Some of the customers last year told Mr McCarron they didn't think it was appropriate for our students to be washing cars in their... swimsuits. They complained about the boys, too," I lied defensively.

"This is crap!" It was Natalie's friend Chloe, and I shuddered as I thought about her nipples hardening while she saw footage of me getting a blowjob. "This is always our biggest fundraiser, Mr Herrick, and you know the reason why." She blinked and arched her back, leaving me in no doubt that she was right; hell, even I'd have paid to let Chloe wash my car just to see her wet boobs.

"The answer is no, guys." I shrugged. "That's just how it has to be. So shorts are fine, even short-shorts, and tanktops. But nothing you'd, uh, be exposed by if it got wet. Like, dark fabrics only." People laughed and exchanged knowing looks; high school students today are pretty savvy, but I'm always surprised at what they don't think about clothes-wise. Like the Service Club girls who know full well they'll be sitting on a stage in front of an audience on Awards Night, and think it's a great idea to rock micro-minis with no underwear.

There had been complaints about that, too.

The meeting broke up soon after, all the kids filing out ready for a new school day. As always, Natalie stayed after for a few minutes. That had always happened, usually to go over last-minute schedule changes or finances or whatever, but lately she'd been using the opportunity to grope me silently. Not that I minded. Today, she just looked at me narrowly. "I know who complained," she said suddenly. "And you lied. It wasn't 'complaints,' plural. There was only one."

"Huh?"

"Last year. It was Mrs Danvers, Mike's mom." She took a precisely metered sip of her iced coffee. "I know I'm right."

I sighed. "Yes. How did you know?"

She smiled thinly. "It was Chloe, of course. We were all in our... swimsuits," she emphasized, mocking me. "Well, you know her: biggest tits in the school. So the Danverses drove up, and Mike was there, and Chloe and I had been flirting with him all day." She rolled her eyes. "Now there's a hottie."

Mike was on the swim team, and he'd worn his Speedos last year. His package had been all the Executive Board girls wanted to talk about the following week. "So," Natalie went on, liberating a breath mint from her purse, "Chloe figured she'd give his dad a show. She washed the windshield, and plastered herself all over the glass right in front of his face." She laughed abruptly, and apparently even genuinely. "I mean, she was pressing that shit so hard against the car that I thought the windshield would crack. Poor man, his eyes were completely bugging out of his head."

I frowned. "I don't remember that."

"Of course not," she said dismissively. "I had Maggie West flirting with you all day to distract you. Try to stay with the program here, Scott." I blinked. Maggie had, indeed, been invading my space the entire time last year. I'd secretly enjoyed her attention, but of course Natalie had destroyed that. "She was reaching really, really high to get the far side of the windshield, and Mrs Danvers was ripshit. I could see her freaking out in the car. Well, Chloe could too, and she reached up with her other hand and gave poor Mr Danvers a little wardrobe malfunction. You know, just a nip slip." Natalie demonstrated on herself, burrowing gracefully up to pull down on her dark green bra underneath her butter-yellow top; her pale nipple popped out, right there in my classroom with kids strolling past the open doorway behind her.

"Shit, Natalie."

"Calm down." She packed the nipple away brusquely after flicking it twice. Then she shrugged. "You can imagine what happened next. Chloe's nips are pretty awesome, all pink and rosy. Not like mine. Mr Danvers looked like he was about to cum right there." Another abrupt laugh. "And that was it. She smiled at Mrs Danvers, adjusted herself, and backed right off."

"No way," I objected, licking my lips. "No way something like that happened."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm many things, Mr Herrick, but you know I'm not a liar." She shrugged again. "Just watch. The Danverses won't be back this year, and Mike will come up with some excuse because his mom won't want him around Chloe." She frowned and looked sideways, remembering. "Actually, I got the whole thing on video. I think it's on my old phone."

"Jesus, Natalie."

"What? You know I like to document these kinds of things." She shrugged, threw away her empty coffee, and watched me boldly as she threaded her messenger bag strap through her tiny cleavage. "It's all good. Chloe fucked Mike three or four times last year, so everything worked out okay." She headed for the door. "See you Saturday at the car wash, Mr Herrick."

* * *

I pulled up to the local business that had agreed to host our car wash at 8:15, about half an hour early, just to make sure everything was set up properly. Long, bitter experience had taught me that swimwear was best at this event, and loose blue board shorts were the choice this year. My wife was pissed; there were certain times of year when the clubs and organizations I advised for had lots of Saturday activities, leaving her stuck at home alone with both kids. Last week had been rock climbing with the Nature Club; I'd helped out the drama kids the weekend before that. This weekend was one of our monthly visits to her mom's house with the kids, and she wanted to know when I'd be done with the car wash.

"Well after lunch," I'd replied absently. "Why don't you and the kids go down in the morning? I'll come down in my truck after everything is settled, probably by dinnertime." She'd rolled her eyes, but the prospect of getting help with the kids was too great. They were leaving as soon as breakfast was done.

The business, a failing music store hoping for some spillover business from us, was donating the water and the hookup, and I'd brought three garden hoses and a mess of buckets. The kids were responsible for towels and sponges, and Natalie had drawn up a strict roster laying out who would bring what. I should not have been surprised to see that her car was already there when I arrived.

She sat behind the wheel, frowning at her phone behind a pair of big sunglasses. Chloe sat in the passenger seat doing exactly the same thing. I sighed, not yet ready to deal with Natalie's drama, but duty called. I stomped on over.

As I got closer, Chloe caught sight of me. "Heeey, Mr H!" she called with her massive grin. Chloe Bishop was a student I thoroughly loathed, the kind of kid I just wanted to see graduate. As I came closer, I saw that she was wearing a massive t-shirt advertising some sort of boy band. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Good morning, Chloe." Natalie made no effort to notice that I was even there. "Is everyone on their way?" Chloe glanced over at Natalie, waiting for her to answer; there was a pause of at least twelve awkward seconds before Natalie deigned to put the phone down and look over her glasses at me. She had the same kind of t-shirt on, though without the boy band. Natalie was more into R&B.

"I said I'd handle it, Mr Herrick," she said, as though talking to a preschooler. "You just go find a place to sit, and I'll be with you shortly." Then it was straight back to the phone; she seemed to be searching through her videos. Chloe looked pointedly at me.

"Shoo, Mr H," she said with a dismissive gesture. "We're talking about girl stuff here, so you might want to vanish. Unless you want to talk about tampons." She laughed at me, straight in my face, then immediately switched gears and went right back to her phone. I stood there a few more seconds, feeling like a moron, then shuffled off to sit on a nearby curb.

By the time the girls were ready to talk to me, I had unloaded everything and screwed in the hoses. Natalie came over, pushing her dark hair back into a ponytail. "When you're through with that, Mr Herrick," she said calmly, "you should go get me a coffee. I'll pay you back later." She stood before me and, as I looked up into the sun, her thin t-shirt clearly showed the silhouette of the slender body beneath. I could detect no shorts at all.

"The entire world is not your barista, Natalie," I grated; she was being entirely too impertinent for a school function. Entirely too Natalie. She shrugged.

"Fine." She turned, her glance intercepting her friend as she got out of the car. "Chloe! Coffee!" The other girl said absolutely nothing, but nodded and took off toward the coffeeshop across the parking lot. Natalie smiled thinly at me. "You were saying?"

"Whatever." I tightened the hose and then got to my feet. I scanned her warily. "Nice shirt."

"Well!" She brought her glasses down her nose, her dark eyes glaring. "The little man in the blue bathing suit is getting uppity again. What, your fat wife not give you any last night?"

"Fuck you." This was starting badly.

"Maybe later, Mr Herrick." She replaced her glasses and sniffed. "Thanks for the offer, though. Get it out of your system now, surfer dude. You and me are going to have to present a proper professional appearance today, because you know how I get when I'm in charge." She checked her phone. "It's about high expectations."

"Huh." I ran a hand through my hair. "That's what I'm afraid of."

She smiled once more as three more kids pulled up in a BMW. She eyed it critically. "There's Caroline Silva in her mom's Beamer," she observed. "They were supposed to be carpooling with Mike Danvers. But gee! I don't see little Mikey." She tittered. "Chloe will be bored."

"Hey, Nat!" Caroline Silva slammed her car door and sashayed over; she was a cheerleader, like Chloe. "Mike said he was sick; I think his mom was pissed at him after last year." She looked over at me. "Morning, Mr Herrick!"

"Hi." Caroline was wearing a flower-patterned beach wrap underneath a bright blue bikini top. "Caroline, I said no bikinis."

"Calm down, Mr Herrick," Natalie interrupted. "We know what we're doing." She then swept her long t-shirt over her head to reveal... well, everything. The bikini was stringy enough to qualify as nudity. Three black triangles faced me, barely covering her nipples and her pubes. She shrugged. "Dark fabric, like you said." And then she turned to greet the others, and the world saw her rear, totally bare from head to heel but for the dark strings across her back and atop her butt. I must have been gaping; Chloe chose that moment to reappear, and she laughed at me again.

"Eyes off her ass, Mr H," she said sweetly. "I got you a coffee." Natalie had taken over, making assignments and directing arriving students, and I knew this would be a long day. "Just sit here and drink it; she's got it all under control." She winked at me, raising her hem enough that I could see her own bikini bottoms, dark red. "Remember: it's all about fundraising." She giggled as she headed over to stand with the other kids, and all I could do was sigh.

All the Student Council kids were there by quarter till, busily engaged in marking traffic lanes, testing hoses, filling buckets; Natalie, as always, had everything running smoothly. There was laughter and the usual flirting; clothes came off in leisurely ways. Not one of these kids was even remotely ashamed of their bodies, nor did they seem to notice each others' casual nudity. Mike's swim team buddies stood there calmly in their Speedos; the girls were showing various amounts of skin, but I was relieved to see that Natalie was by far the least appropriate. She showed no sign of caring.

Just before the car wash was supposed to start, she came over with her clipboard covering more of her than her bikini did. "All set, Mr Herrick," she said pleasantly. "I think we're just about ready, but you'll need to take your shirt off too."

"The fuck?" I hissed. "Hell no."

The crowd of kids was clapping and cheering. "Take it off, Mr H!" Caroline shouted. Natalie shrugged. "It's what the people want, Mr Herrick. It wasn't even my idea."

"Chloe?" The minx stood there, proud and sexy in her red bikini.

"No, not her either." Natalie sounded bored. "It was the boys. They're showing skin, and you can too. Fair is fair, Mr Herrick. Now get moving and show us your hairy old six-pack." Her eyes dropped down. "Or at least a four-pack. Hell, I'll bet I could even scare up some Speedos for you if you want."

I shot her a murderous glance, the kids hooting nearby, then I sighed and took off my shirt. There was no real reason not to; I was pretty fit. There was a wave of thunderous applause, and Natalie came alongside me and put her cool, firm body up against mine. Her arm twined around my lower back, and I jumped at her touch. "Smile for the camera, lover," she muttered, and a dozen kids pulled a dozen cellphones out to take their shots. She posed a few moments, shoving her small boobs against my frozen arm, her fingers at one point teasing at the waistband of my shorts. "Enough, guys!" she said at last, snapping her fingers. "Let's get this car wash open!" She pranced away from me, glancing over her shoulder at me, and I just stood there dumbly.

The morning went well; Natalie had, of course, been completely correct about the bikinis and Speedos. We did not live in a huge town, and word spread fast that seven or eight luscious girls in hot swimsuits were cavorting in the soap bubbles while washing cars; the citizens flocked. I was manning the money table, per school department policy, and Natalie was the drill sergeant taking care of the actual event. She had two other senior girls, each just about naked, out on the sidewalk with signs; the girls were in two teams, each with a dedicated hose and some buckets. She'd organized the boys into a roving reserve, which she threw at cars driven by women.