Realising Her Destiny

Reading notes: This is a work of fiction. The majority of the characters described are figments of my imagination. That having been said, everyone in this story is aged 18 or older. All sex described is consensual. Please consider using the voting system after reading, and all comments are welcome. All authors thrive on feedback to improve their writing. Please note, this story contains references to enforced oral worship after penetrative sex and also to anal sex. If these activities do not float your boat, please move on and find a story more to your chosen tastes.

I left the house at the normal time that Friday morning to drive to school, as usual. Until the moment that I pulled into the teachers' car park, I had considered it a run of the mill school day. It was the last day of the school week, and I was looking forward to getting back home that evening. I had a date with my new(ish) boyfriend that evening, and on Saturday, I would be milking my cuckold, as usual. But as I parked my car in the bay designated for the Head teacher, I had to drive past the already parked Mini that I knew belonged to Mrs. Lyndsey French, a colleague and the youngest member of my teaching staff.

Despite her youth (she was just twenty three years old, and this was her first teaching post), Lyndsey French was the best teacher on my staff. Her classroom manner was relaxed, efficient and very well organised. The children adored her, worked hard for her, and her SATs (Standard Attainment Tests) were amongst the best in the borough. But all that having been said, Mrs. French never, but never got into school first. Intrigued as to what had got her in so early, I parked my car and went into school to find out the reason for her unusually early attendance.

I left my handbag in the Head teacher's office and walked down the corridor to Lyndsey's classroom. She was not there. So I made my way, via the assembly hall to the staff room. As I walked in, looked up at me and attempted a smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Simpson," she said. I didn't return her greeting. I was horrified by what I saw.

The whites of her cornflower blue eyes were red with exhaustion, and black rings sat underneath them. The darkness of the rings was emphasised by the deathly paleness of her skin. All in all, Lyndsey French looked ghastly.

"Gracious me, Lyndsey, whatever is the matter?" I asked. "You look like death warmed up. Are you ill?"

She managed a smile.

"Not ill, as such," she confessed. "A bit hurt and very confused. I came in early in the hope of seeing you alone. I have a problem at home, and I wonder if I could have a confidential chat with you? You've always said that anyone on the staff is welcome to ask for help if they need it."

I hesitated. When I'd said that, I'd been referring to problems relating to school, or with a particular child or parent. I hadn't envisaged being an agony aunt to my youngest member of staff. Lyndsey picked up on my hesitation.

"Don't worry," she said, getting unsteadily to her feet. "I'm just being silly. Forget I asked. I'll just make myself a strong cup of coffee and get back to my classroom. I need something to keep me awake. I didn't sleep much last night."

I saw my opportunity.

"Let me make us both a cup of proper coffee in my room," I said, taking her arm. I could feel her trembling, and I was really concerned now. "If you haven't slept, that at least answers my first question, as to how you've come to school looking as pale as a ghost. You must be exhausted."

"No," I said sternly, as I felt her reluctance to come with me, "I have a duty of care to my staff as well as my pupils. I'm not asking you to come down to my room. I'm telling you. Come on, I'll help you. You look as if you're about to faint. Lean on me."

Back in my room, I sat Lyndsey down and set about turning on the coffee percolator that I keep in the little alcove that I use as a kitchen cum storeroom. When it began to drip, I turned to Lyndsey with an encouraging smile.

"Now then, young lady. What's troubling you? I was surprised to see your car in the carpark so early."

Lyndsey blushed.

"I've been driving around town for hours," she began. "Peter and I had a huge row last night, and I stormed out. I haven't been back home, and I don't know if I ever will. It's so embarrassing. I don't know if I can begin to explain what caused the row. You and Mr. Simpson have been married forever, I know. I can't imagine you and him arguing over such a trivial thing. Look, Mrs. Simpson, this is a mistake. I need time to think about what I'm going to do. I really don't know if Peter and I have a future together, but that's for me to decide. I shouldn't involve you with my marital problems."

I shook my head, and turned back to the coffee machine. As I poured out a mug of coffee for each of us, my mind was racing. What the hell had she gone and done? Was she having an affair? She'd barely been married two minutes. I handed her a mug of coffee.

"There's milk in the fridge, and sugar on that table, if you need it," I began, "and you are going to find yourself in trouble if you continue to call me Mrs. Simpson. You know the rules. It is 'Mrs. Simpson' in front of the children and their parents, but at all other times, it's 'Olwen.' I don't see anybody else here, do you?"

Lyndsey shook her head, and sipped her coffee. She winced.

"Fuck me, that's hot!" she said, then blushed deeply. "Oh god, I'm sorry Mrs. Simp... er... Olwen, I mean. I didn't mean to swear."

"Forget it," I smiled. I didn't tell her that I would jump at the chance to fuck her. I might have been old enough to be her mother, but she had a beautiful pair of tits, legs up to her armpits and what my dear departed mother used to call 'Come-to-bed eyes.'

Yes, Lyndsey French was extremely fuckable, but she was also a member of my teaching staff, and thus, out of bounds. She also had no clue that I was a bi-sexual Hot Wife, with a boyfriend about the same age as her, and a cuckold whom I loved, and who was kept permanently cock locked. I certainly wasn't going to admit to any of the above! To compose myself once more, I picked up my pipe from the ashtray on my desk, and began to stuff the bowl. Lyndsey smiled. I knew the staff were all amused to know that their Head teacher smoked a pipe.

"Lyndsey, my dear, anything you tell me here is as confidential as if you were in the confessional with your priest," I assured her. "I have kept more secrets than you've had hot dinners. Now stop being such a primadonna, and tell me what the hell is causing you such heartache."

"Don't worry," I continued, "I'm not being a nosy cow. If you aren't right, you are not going to be functioning properly. That will affect your teaching, and your pupils, and that is something up with which I will not put."

Lyndsey smiled at my tortuous sentence construction.

"Well, here goes," she smiled bravely, sipping her coffee again.

"Peter and I have been married almost two years," she began. "We met after I'd finished University, started going out and we fell in love. I'd never had a steady boyfriend before I left home. My father's a Parish priest back home, and I'd led a very sheltered life up until I went to University."

I nodded. Incredibly, Lyndsey's story was almost a mirror image of my own, except that my father had been a coal miner, not a vicar.

"Go on," I encouraged her.

"I went totally off the rails," Lyndsey continued, blushing in a most attractive manner. "I slept with my room mate, just to see what sex with another woman was like. I also slept with most of the first fifteen rugby team too. I drank like a fish, smoked, and even experimented with the odd spliff too. But I never took hard drugs."

I smiled and shook my head.

"What happened?" I asked. "When you came here for an interview, you were little Miss Prim-and-Proper. I didn't know who you've fucked, and I don't give a shit. All that interested me was your excellent qualifications and your obvious desire to teach. I'd never have considered offering you a job if I hadn't thought you both capable and worthy."

Lyndsey didn't blanche at my swearing. Instead she answered my question.

"Peter happened," she said. "I met him when I was doing my post-grad certificate of education, and we started going out. I stopped behaving like a slut and we became close. By his final year, we were in love. I finished my PGCE, and Peter went to London to the Inns of Court to train to be a barrister. When we both qualified, we decided to get engaged."

I nodded. All this was familiar to me.

"After I got a job here, and Peter found work in a chambers in town, we got engaged," Lyndsey continued. "As you know, we got married nearly two years ago. Everything was going so well. Then..."

She stopped. I raised my eyebrows.

"And...?" I encouraged her.

"Oh god, this is so embarrassing," Lyndsey said, putting her mug of coffee down and covering her blush with her hands. She shook herself, as if telling herself to get a grip. She looked straight at me and said defiantly,

"Peter has got the smallest cock it has ever been my misfortune to encounter," she said, blushing furiously again. "Not only that, he suffers from premature ejaculation. In the time we've been married, we've had loads of sex, but I haven't had a cock induced orgasm since we've been together."

I bit my tongue, and shook my head slowly. Lyndsey's story was once again almost a carbon copy of mine and Richard's. I opened my mouth to speak, but Lyndsey was on a roll now. She went on.

"I love sex, but I love Peter more. OK, he can't keep it up long enough to get me off, but he does go down on me when he's finished, and use his tongue to give me my orgasm. Am I embarrassing you, Olwen? You're very quiet."

"Not at all," I grinned. "Just so you know, I love sitting on Richard's face too. Oral sex is lovely, isn't it?"

Lyndsey's face was a picture. I giggled.

"Yes, even fifty-something year old's like me enjoy a good tonguing," I admitted. "Go on. I'm fascinated to know why you stormed out on Peter when he obviously likes to muff you."

"Last night he came home having won a really important case," Lyndsey began again. "We had a lovely meal, and shared a bottle of wine. Then we went to bed early, and we made love. He came in about two minutes, before I'd even got properly wet. I told him it didn't matter, and that he could go down and kiss and lick my pussy till I came. But he said he had a better idea, so we sat up in bed and talked."

This was incredible. If it was possible to turn the clock back thirty odd years, I could have been Lyndsey and I could have been explaining the same dilemma to my then Head teacher. I made a 'get on with it 'gesture with my hand.

Lyndsey gulped.

"The long and short of our discussion was that Peter suggested that I find a lover with a bigger cock. Someone who could fuck me properly. He'd still be my husband, but he'd also be what is known as a cuckold. Have you heard that term before? I never had until last night. And I never want to hear it again, either. I dressed and stormed out of the house. I don't know when, if ever, I'll go back there."

"I don't have anywhere to live!" she wailed and her red, puffy eyes filled up with tears.

I found myself unable to reply for a few moments. I didn't trust myself to tell Lyndsey that my Richard was a willing cuckold, and that in the course of our thirty-odd year marriage, I'd had dozens of lovers, and that my cuckold knew and approved of every one of them. Unfortunately, Lyndsey took my silence for disapproval. She looked at me defiantly.

"I've trusted you with all of this," she said. "I hope I can count on your discretion?"

I ignored the question.

"Where is Peter now?" I asked.

Lyndsey shrugged.

"I don't know," she admitted. "In work, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

Again, I ignored the question. I stood up and pulled Lyndsey to her feet.

"You're in no fit state to teach today," I told her, ignoring her protests and silencing her by putting my index finger on her trembling lips.

"This is an order. Go home. By your own admission, Peter will not be there. Get some sleep, pack a few things and come to my house when you wake up. No, don't bloody argue! Do as you're told! I'll phone Richard now. He's got a day off, as it happens. You can stay at our house tonight. At least you'll have a good night's sleep, and we can chat about how to go about saving your marriage."

I pulled Lyndsey to me and gave her a hug. I felt my clit twitch as her big soft tits squashed up against my own large pair. Hurriedly, I released her, and gave her a very chaste, very platonic, maternal kiss on the cheek.

"Now bugger off home and get some sleep," I mock scolded her. "Don't worry. I'll teach your class today. It does me good to keep my hand in!"

"Thank you, Olwen," Lyndsey said in a quiet voice. "Do you really think I can save my marriage? I love Peter to bits, but..."

"But me no buts," I said sternly. "Trust me. Your old Aunty Olwen will do her best to get you back home with the man you love. Now sod off home before you fall asleep in my office!"

Lyndsey giggled.

"Yes, Aunty Olwen," she replied. "You're so stern sometimes! I wouldn't dare not do as I'm told!"

As soon as Lyndsey was off the school premises, I phoned my boyfriend. He was disappointed when I told him that I wouldn't be available that evening, as arranged, but I knew that I'm not the only woman he's fucking. He'd find another cunt to fuck tonight, I was sure.

Then I phoned Richard, who was both excited and supportive when I told him what I had in mind. He promised to be on his best behaviour, and to act like a normal husband if Lyndsey arrived before I got home from school.

Finally, I looked up Lyndsey's personnel file and made a note of the emergency contact number that all staff were expected to provide. Settling down behind my desk, I rang the number, and when it was answered, I told the person on the other end of the phone what had happened and what I expected the outcome to be. We hung up on each other after a long conversation, and then I turned my attention to what I was going to do with Lyndsey's class of ten and eleven year olds. It was Friday, and they were a lovely bunch of children. There and then I made up my mind. Today's lessons were all going to be fun, and Mrs. Simpson was going to give them a relaxed treat rather than a curriculum based day of formal lessons.

I could hear that Marion, my secretary had arrived and was already getting down to work in her office next to mine. I popped my head round the door.

"Morning, Marion," I smiled. "Bit of a crisis this morning, I'm afraid. I've sent Lyndsey home. She's not well. I'll be teaching her class today. There's nothing in the diary for me, is there?"

Marion looked up and shook her head.

"Only the weekly returns," she said. "I'll prepare all the forms and you can sign them before the end of the day. I'll put them in the post on my way home."

Thanking my lucky stars for the fact that I had such an efficient, competent secretary, I set about planning some fun activities for Lyndsey's class. I was looking forward to a day back at the chalk face.

It was nearly five o'clock when I parked my car outside the garage of our remote house at the edge of the village where Richard and I lived. I could see from the fact that there was a red Mini parked on the drive that Lyndsey was already here. I smiled to myself as I got out of the car. Tonight was going to be fun, I thought to myself.

"I'm home," I announced, as I came through the front door. Richard came out of the kitchen to greet me. He kissed me chastely on the cheek.

"Had a good day?" he asked. "Lyndsey turned up about half an hour ago. She's in the conservatory. Can I bring you something to drink? Lyndsey had a cup of tea when she arrived."

"Bring a fresh pot," I replied, winking at my cuckold. "We'll start off slowly, but you do realise that I'm going to out us both tonight, don't you?"

Richard grinned.

"You're the Hot Wife," he replied. "I'm just a cuckold who does what he's told. However you decide to play this out, you know I'll support you."

I took his hand and kissed it.

"I love you, cucky," I said truthfully. "Whatever the outcome of tonight's little scenario, when we go to bed tonight, I'm going to sit on your face and wriggle."

Richard blushed with pleasure, and then winced. He has a pathetically small cock, but his chastity device is the tiniest available on the market. When he's wearing it, (which is all the time!), he can't get a full hard on. It gets quite tight when he's excited.

I breezed into the conservatory. Lyndsey looked up at me and smiled.

"How were they?" she asked. It was typical of her, committed teacher that she was. Her first thoughts were of her class of children. I smiled reassuringly.

"They missed you, of course," I replied, sitting down next to her on the large sofa we have in the conservatory. "And they all made me promise to send you their best wishes for a full recovery."

I looked at her and smiled.

"Well don't you scrub up nicely?" I teased. "A few hours sleep seems to have done you the world of good. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," replied Lyndsey. "I've been thinking about what Peter said last night. I married him for better or for worse. He can't help having such a small cock, so I'm..."

She broke off as Richard came in carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two cups and saucers. The milk jug was already on the coffee table, together with the empty cup that had contained Lyndsey's earlier cup of tea.

"Tea, ladies?" Richard asked, and put tye tray down on the coffee table. Lyndsey looked at me, her cheeks scarlet with embarrassment. She knew Richard could not have failed to hear her remark about her husband's tiny cock.

I decided to help her out of her embarrassment.

"Thank you, Richard," I smiled up at him. "Go and get yourself a cup and saucer. You may join us until supper is ready. I take it that you asked our guest what her dietary requirements are?"

"Yes, dear. Lyndsey says she eats everything. I've made a boeuf bourguignon. It will be ready by seven o'clock."

He went back to the kitchen to get himself a cup and saucer. Lyndsey whispered,

"I'm sorry to have mentioned Peter's cock. I wouldn't want to embarrass your husband. I'll tell you later what I've decided to do. But just quickly, I'm going to go back to him and tell him not to be so silly. I love him and I'm going to stick by him!"

"You're a very sensible woman," I replied. "We will chat about what you told me this morning, if you don't mind. Nothing said here tonight will leave these four walls. We're going to resolve your and Peter's dilemma, believe me. Ah! Here's Richard. Tea for three, please, Richard. Guests first, remember!"

Lyndsey's face was a picture as she listened to me directing my husband to serve her. Little did she know that my cuckold loved to be controlled and directed. She'd soon see him in his true colours, and how she reacted would probably determine how the rest of the night went.

"Thank you, Richard," Lyndsey smiled as he passed her a cup of tea. "I can see that Olwen has you well trained. My Peter often jokes that the only time he attempted to make the tea, he burned the water."

Richard smiled politely.

"Olwen works hard," he replied. "When she's not in school, I try to help out as much as I can around the house. It's only fair, isn't it? She can't be expected to run a school and do all the domestic tasks."

"You should try how did you put it? 'Training' your husband, Lyndsey," I smiled. "It makes for a much more harmonious lifestyle. Richard loves to serve, don't you, dear?"

"Yes, Olwen," he replied, handing me my cup. "May I sit, please?"