Naughty Andy

He sighed, thinking of an incident that afternoon, the first of its kind. An hour into the class, a woman suddenly stood and said loudly, "This is a load of crap" and walked out, leaving her class-notes behind. It appeared all other students didn't share her opinion because they stayed and engaged enthusiastically in answering his questions, seeking clarification on points and short critiques, when requested, on written passages projected on to the whiteboard.

The classes at each time of day were in a series of twenty, meaning it would take twenty weeks to complete a full series going once a week, or shorter if the student managed to take more than one class a week.

Further, each class had a topic name so if a student missed a class, they could try to gain admission to a class of the missed topic at another time. On day, one all classes had started on a different topic within the 20 topic structure to make class-hopping effective.

Andy had been thrilled to be told by several students such flexibility in the system was very innovative as attendees had other conflicting things in their lives to attend too beside class schedules.

There would be no tests or exams but students completing 20 classes would be awarded a certificate noting their academic achievement.

On Saturday, when going to the Criterion Hotel for the assignation, Andy experienced a return of morality reflection.

What if he'd be corrupting an overwise upright married woman?

Fuck, he'd never given such a thing a second thought before.

He dismissed the possibility that he may be falling under the influence of the age of reason that gripped some people as they aged.

Fuck and be fucked had been his unofficial motto simply because it had fitted his lifestyle.

Then he thought in setting up his coaching school, by necessity he'd become closely associated with a bunch of community-minded individuals, presumably people who were of higher moral standards than himself and the people he usually associated with.

"Omigod, the goodness of community spirit may be rubbing off on to me."

He marvelled at his ability to come to that conclusion and then found it difficult to reject the conclusion as piffle.

"Gee, I better wear a clean shirt each day and polish my shoes and then it occurred to him that he'd been doing just that for a little time now.

He arrived at the hotel and looked around in the lobby and a great=looking blonde rose from a chair and smiled at him. He walked over and said, "Mrs um Ashley?"

"Hi Andy. You give the overall impression you could get any female's motor running."

He replied cautiously, "Err, you really that that?"

"Omigod, my apologies. You're somewhat shy."

"Err yes and no and sometimes."

"Well that covers the field," she smiled every so sweetly and Andy fancied he was ready to paw the ground.

He knew it was time to show some leadership.

"Look, should I sign in and then we go for coffee."

"I've already booked the room using mum's credit card. She's so keen for us to... for us to..."

"Fuck?"

"Ooh, that came as a surprise."

"I thought Emily was over-stating your need and I guess in my mind I toned back how to expect you to be until, I guess, I was anticipating someone almost virginal."

Ashley slammed a hand over her mouth to smoother an outburst of laughter.

"Me a virgin Andy. Let me tell you I had my knickers ripped off and..."

"No please, I don't need to know that," Andy pleaded, but the truth was he was intently interested to know her age when she was first shafted.

But he caught himself and thought what was wrong with him, he was a changed character, wasn't he?"

Well, perhaps not.

They began following the sign that stated coffee when Ashley took his arm and said, "Andy darling, so you think we could go to our suite instead? This new dress is tight and I need to divest it. Perhaps you could do the honours."

He felt his dick stir.

He thought omigod, he was being seduced into have sex in the most blatant fashion. Did this woman have an abundant supply of male hormones? That was unlikely by the look of her, but what else could be driving her apart from thinking like a slut.

Perhaps she was thinking like a normal woman who was missing having sex? Oh yeah.

Reluctantly he was led into the boudoir. What had happened to the term hotel suite?

Her hands were all over him and he responded the best he could under the circumstances. Although he was in familiar territory , it was a contradiction that he found himself in awkward territory, and although she got him fully erect by first stroking his dick and then sucking and licking it, she practically had to push the erection into her pussy.

"Aren't you sexually interested in me?" she asked.

"It appears that way and I'm aware that I'm turning this encounter into a wash-out but I'm experiencing something I've never encountered before. It... it might be burn-out."

"Well, probably you've been gorging on too much pussy lately and hopefully that burn-out will soon pass and you'll be firing on all cylinders again. In the meantime, do you mind laying on your back and thinking of juicy and leaking pussy while I climb board and try to give myself maximum satisfaction? I would help if you could work a couple of wet fingers up me anally."

"Of course,' Andy said sincerely. "Anything to assist a lady."

Emily called Andy next day and said she'd been told he'd been off his usual assault on pussy.

"Yes," I don't really know what came over me."

"Well Andy, by all accounts at least your minimum contribution was a winner. My daughter told me she'd never gushed so much in all her life of sex."

"Really, that's amazing."

"No, not really. She said it mainly was because you were ramming two fingers up her butt when she'd only ever had experienced that before in the few times she'd permitted such dirty finger play. Now Andy, would you care to talk to me in detail about how you came to lose your usual mojo?"

Emily listened, and Andy told her everything that had occupied his mind sexually and morally in the lead up to that hotel encounter.

"Hmmm," she said, sounding like a professional consultant churning over essential points of evidence and churning through all the possible diagnoses that she was aware of.

"Hmmm," she said again with more emphasis of certainty.

"Omigod, Andy said, sounding rather terrified. "Do you think it's cancer."

"What? Of course not. "I worked for 15 years in my earlier life as a sperm collector, to use the term in layman's language and picked up a lot of information while working in that clinic for males with sexually dysfunctional disorders."

"What I believe had struck you down sexually, again using layman's language, is after years of expecting to perform at maximum performance, your dick has suffered moral remorse and has transferred that systematic concern to your brain which has reacted to rebuke you somewhat."

"Omigod, are you saying my dick in cohort with my brain, is staging a revolt."

"I think, rather you have been sent a mild rebuke."

"Oh, at the lower end of bodily retribution... I am so relieved."

"I suggest from now on, don't slam into pussy with gay abandoned but think of it as being one of life's pleasures at being given such access and think of indulging with a bit of moral righteousness to exercising such freedom of choice."

"Right, Emily. I will, that I promise."

"Excellent and now for rebooting your system into correct functioning. I suggest you do not sight bare breasts or pussy for at least 48 hours and if you feel some slight malfunctioning may still exist, then stay well clear of nude and semi-nude woman and even sexy-looking woman for seven days.

"What, for seven entire days, Emily? That would be extreme punishment."

"Well, dear man, compare that against the possibility for forever losing you ability to achieve full erections and sustain them for an hour or whatever is usual for you?"

Andy gurgled incoherently into his phone.

Emily said, "I thought so. Look, I'll come to you in 48 hours and check you over."

"Great Emily, I appreciate and respect you for offering that level of care."

"Good boy, and oh, I suggest your refrain from masturbating for 48 hours minimum as well."

* * *

Emily arrived at Andy's apartment to find him looking fit but worried.

"I've controlled by dick my clipping it across the head every time I felt an erection forming and twice when I awoke to find an erection had formed, I throttled it into submission."

"Good work, Andy. Is there anything else to report?"

"Yes, I've read a lot about sexual morality and that has widened my knowledge and deepened my interest in reforming."

"Good man. Now, let me inspect your penis."

Andy dropped his pants and underpants almost at the speed of light.

"Omigod Andy, that's a really prime specimen, the best example I've seen in years but of course I haven't seen many since leaving the clinic."

"Now, let me see an erection and I'll work you into semen release in the approved manner of a technician."

"Okay."

They waited, and waited.

"Emily, you best show me your tits."

"No way, Andy. I'm seventy-two and well passed my use-by date of showing my assets in that manner."

Still no erection eventuated.

Emily sighed and told Andy to turn his back.

"Why? I'm going to see your tits anyway so why not watch them being revealed."

"Gee, you are a persuasive asshole but obviously base you demands on applied intelligence."

Emily flipped out a modest hanger that was surprisingly wrinkled-free.

Nothing.

She flipped out the other one.

Nothing.

"There's no need to ask," she sighed and undressed completely."

Nothing.

"Omigod, I'm destined to have a constantly flaccid dick for the rest of my life."

"I don't believe so," Emily said softly. I'll walk over and allow my pussy to touch your dick."

CENSORED

In the interest of good taste, the author decided not to relate how Emily's visit with naughty Andy continued for the next four hours except to say she left tired and very happy.

Chapter 4

Andy's creative writing coaching classes were going well, providing some great feedback and attendances were surprising good for voluntary education, averaging 92%.

He'd built-in curriculums breaks to occur when schools, universities and tertiary education organisations generally observed term breaks and on the second such break, when there were no pressing matters for him to attend to, such as pressing modifications including updates to curriculum, he set off with revenge on his mind.

The completely unacceptable and violent way he'd been run out of the city where he used to live by three guys, continued to prey on his mind at times and he wanted to retaliate in the hope that memories of that fateful day would fade completely into memory archives.

He booked into a back-street motel for one night and the manager was happy to accept payment up front. Andy used a false name and signed the register with than name and invented an address and cell-phone number. Andy, who did not own a vehicle, had parked his rental car several streets away.

He'd given deep thought to his mission. He didn't have murder in mind but had decided he'd extract sufficient revenge to be happy by severely physically punishing the ring-leader. Such action, of course, would be against the law as it would be regarded as criminal assault.

Next morning, Andy parked his vehicle in view of the address he had for Ted Brough. He drove his vehicle forward a little so he could get a view between the back door and the now newer model Jeep in the driveway beside the house.

At 7.15 Ted came out of the house, pulling on jacket. There was no mistake, it was the guy who'd assaulted him along with two pals but his beard was longer and bushier. Andy followed Ted to the timber yard where he was a partner in the business.

Andy returned at 4.15 and saw the yard was in the process of being closed for that day. At 4.35 Ted was in the last of three vehicles that left together.

Ted stopped and closed and locked the sturdy metal and wire netting gate behind him. He then drove off in the opposite direction to the other two vehicles and went to the supermarket with a coffee and snack bar.

Ted emerged three-quarters of an hour later with a half-filled trolley of purchases, loaded them into the passenger side of the vehicle and then drove off to park behind an hotel that had a big sign at the back of the premises, Liquor, Burgers & Gaming Machines.

Just before 7.00, it was almost dark and Ted emerged and went up to his vehicle, turned and without bothering to look around to check that he couldn't be seen, turned and urinated against the passenger door of the car parked next to his vehicle.

The foul guy then drove home and as the vehicle went up the driveway, Andy noticed when parking that the house was in darkness. He thought good, that could mean Ted was living alone at present.

Next morning at 7:15, as Ted slammed the backdoor shut and then walked down the three steps pulling on his huntsman's thick jacket, Andy emerged behind the end of the house and crept up silently and slugged Ted over the head with a baseball bat.

Ted collapsed on to the driveway.

Andy, wearing gloves, rolled Ted over on to his band heck and found he was breathing a little raspingly he couldn't detect any sign of blood flowing from any head wound in the heavy matt of uncombed hair.

Wearing boots, he stomped heavily on Ted's groin and then, for good measure, opening the jacket wide he kicked the punk brutally in the ribs, on his right side, clear of his heart.

Breathing heavily, feeling triumphant Andy saw no one on the street, some houses had lights on as people stirred for the near day and no dogs were barking.

He drove off quietly, confidently he's not been seen assaulting Ted asshole Brough. Across at the far side of the city, he wiped away the jam he'd smeared over the number plates of his nondescript vehicle, to prevent easy readying. He parked several streets away and walked to his motel to have something to eat and then he'd leave the city, a happy man.

Andy was feeling weary and called into another small city, again parking the vehicle some distance away, and booked into another motel, about 75 miles from the scene of his crime. He explained to the person when asking for a room for four hours that he was hitch-hiking and needed a shower, something to eat and to sleep.

The female manager said no problem, as he signed the register with a false name and address.

"Come through to the kitchen and I'll do you bacon and eggs now."

He felt well-fed and the woman took him to his unit and said, "You'll find it difficult to hitch a ride late afternoon or at night. Have a long sleep and get out to the highway by 6:00 when scores of truckies will be driving through."

"Thanks, good advice," he said.

However, he awoke just after 3 pm and left, waving cheerfully to the person cleaning the reception office windows who probably thought Andy was going for a walk.

He switched on to local radio as he drove off and on the 'News at Four' heard a brief item that police remained mystified about likely motives over the brutal attack of prominent businessman Ted Brough, who was knocked unconscious early that morning by a viciously wielded baseball bat that curiously was left placed in Mr Brough's hand.

The attacker apparently didn't enter the house and left the Mr Brough's premium vehicle untouched. The newsreader stated that the victim was recovering from concussion and would not be able to walk unaided for several days because of secondary injuries to the groin.

Andy laughed gleefully, pleased that he'd completed his mission successfully and relieved that there was no suggestion that Ted asshole Brough was suffering serious head injuries other than concussion.

At home, Andy found a note from one of his students asking her to call her.

"Hi Linda, I've been away and just arrived back. How may I help you?"

"I understand you live alone. I'd like to come and cook dinner at your place for us. My home is rather too crowded for intelligent conversation."

Andy thought god, Linda was only 23.

"Linda, I'm sorry but I can't say yes."

"Why not?"

"One, because you are my student and two, because I don't have a chaperone here."

"God, Garry. What kind of a sham are you attempting to pull? I'm 23, an adult. I was only suggesting I'd like to cook dinner for us. Were you expecting me to fuck you?"

Andy was on the verge of breaking into a sweat, and he squawked, "No, absolutely no."

"Well, I didn't expect you to have a chaperone and who would, apart from you, in this day and age?"

"The mother of an under-age female?"

"God, little wonder why you are into creative literature. You have a creative mind and an answer for everything. You know I'm aware that you are a bachelor and I'm aware that in all probability you are a lousy cook and the truth is I'm on heat and currently lack a helpful boyfriend."

There was a growing pause.

"Andy?"

"Six o'clock will be fine."

He had a bought pizza warmed up at 6:00 and poured two glasses of red wine.

Linda arrived on the dot of 6:00 with a bulging food basked, to find him dressed in pants and a t-shirt.

"Omigod, pizza," she sniffed. "You are making an effort and that will do for starters."

She lifted her glass, they touched glasses. She took a swig and stripped down until the only things she was wearing were dangling ear-rings.

"This is the more relaxing and in an intelligence environment I rather fancy."

He gulped more wine."

"Andy."

He stripped until the only thing he was wearing was his signet ring.

"I can't believe you are seducing me like this."

"Enough of that crap, Andy. Let's have a night to remember."

They did and Linda went home the following evening.

* * *

Andy's phone went.

"Hi, sweetheart."

It was a voice from the past and although there were hundreds of possible females with the potential to say that, Andy didn't have to guess.

"Hi, Lillian it's so lovely to hear your voice again."

"Why didn't you attempt to look me up when you were here the other day."

"Been where? I have no idea where you live these days."

"You were ever so close to me. I'm divorced and are living in a rented house in the same street as your victim until I decide where to relocate a buy my next home."

"Victim?"

"Enough said, and I'll not mention that accusation to anyone else, ever."

"Agreed, enough said. Three times I attempted to contact you and three times your husband answered the phone and I asked for a guy's name and was told wrong number."

"Oh, you did make an effort and I can understand why you didn't return to that place a shame to try to physically meet up with me again. My ex-husband has married his mistress and they live on the farm. He had to pay out half the agreed value of everything in the divorce settlement and even after repayment of mortgages, what I received was more than a tidy sum."

"Excellent, Lillian. I'm pleased for you. Um, how have you eventually managed to locate me?"

"I made several fruitless attempts, not knowing where to start of course. Then my sister's girl Jackie Hart arrived here at lunchtime to stay a few days and she mentioned the name of her course tutor and I knew it was the Andy that I knew. From what she told me I now know that your reproductive gear is in full working order."

"Lillian, I can explain..."

"There's no need. Jackie told me she's never had to work so hard to nail a guy."

"Oh, and I have to say that I am weak when it comes to nubile women."

"Ah, does what mean you're keen to become intimate with me again, Andy?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Omigod."