Student and Teacher Ch. 08

After hearing the story from Brad, Damon was particularly affectionate to Iris—and he showed it.

"Damon, please!" she cried one night after he'd had her both ways (front and back) in a matter of half an hour, with a clear implication that more was to follow. "I'm getting awfully tired. Let's rest a bit."

He grudgingly let her take her usual position on top of him, but he made sure to massage her back, shoulders, and bottom vigorously to prepare her for the next round.

"All those years," he muttered into her ear, "and no one to . . ." To penetrate you.

"Damon," she said sharply, "it really wasn't all that bad. I don't think women need sex as much as men do."

He smiled cynically. "Oh? That's not been my experience."

She colored at his suggestion. "W-well," she stammered, "I don't think I missed it that much."

"Sure," he said offhandedly, "you could always do it to yourself."

There was a deep silence. When she slowly looked up at him, her face was beet-red.

"How dare you say something like that to a lady!" she exclaimed indignantly.

He looked at her, wide-eyed in surprise. "What's the big deal? You mean you didn't do it? I find that really hard to believe, even for you."

"Ooooh!" she said, her anger rising even further. "Don't say things like that to me!"

"I don't get it, Iris. I mean, everyone does it—men and women, boys and girls, everyone. I've been doing it since I was twelve."

"Well, good for you! I'm not like that."

"But you do it, don't you?"

He could sense that she was breathing heavily. It took her a long time to say: "Yes, of course. I'm not a nun."

Damon chuckled. "I bet nuns do it too."

"Oh, Damon, you're impossible!"

"So how do you do it?" he asked blandly.

"What?"

"How do you do it?" he repeated slowly and precisely. "The girls I've been with do it all different kinds of ways. Some lie on their stomachs, some on their backs. So I'd just like to know."

"I'm not telling you!"

"Well, how often did you do it? I mean, before I came along?" I guess you don't have to do it anymore, since Brad and I keep you pretty busy.

"I'm not telling you that either!"

"Oh, come on, don't be coy. I don't suppose you did it every day."

"Certainly not!"

"Once a week?"

"I tried not to."

"You tried not to? Why on earth for? You're saying that you rationed your orgasms?"

"Please, don't be vulgar! It's just that . . ." She trailed off.

"Iris, don't tell me you were ashamed of doing it? I mean, that's a pretty old-fashioned attitude."

"Well, maybe I'm an old-fashioned girl!"

"I don't think you're that old-fashioned."

She sighed heavily. "Okay. I did it, maybe, once every two weeks. I tried not to do it more often than that."

"Why? I don't get it."

"I just felt it was the right thing to do. Anyway, my, um, sessions were more intense that way."

"I'll bet they were! God, if I'd done it only twice a month—whenever I didn't have a girl, that is—I'd explode every time!"

"Spare me the details, please."

Damon fell silent, embracing Iris more closely. Poor thing! Here she is, twelve years older than me, and I bet she's had a lot fewer orgasms in her life than I've had.

"Are you sure," he whispered in her ear, "you don't want to tell me how you do it?"

Grudgingly she said, "On my back."

"How long does it take usually?"

"I don't know—fifteen, twenty minutes usually."

"What do you think about?"

"There's no way I'm going to tell you that!"

"Movie stars? Athletes?"

"No." Certainly not athletes.

He gave her a tight squeeze.

"Would you like to show me?" he said.

When she looked up at him, her face now seemed drained of blood. "Wh-what?" she said weakly.

"Show me."

"Oh, Damon, I couldn't."

"I'd like you to."

"Why?"

"I'm just curious."

"It's so—embarrassing."

"Nonsense. It's a natural human act. Everyone gets pleasure out of it."

"I'm not even sure I could do it with you watching."

"Oh, just pretend I'm not here. Pretend this is way before you ever met me, and it's time for your twice-monthly orgasm."

"I told you not to be vulgar."

"Please, Iris. Do it for me. I'm sure it'll make me love you even more than before."

She made a sour face at him. Yeah, right—sure it will. But then she sighed and said, "Okay."

She rolled off of him and landed on her back. As he gazed at her gorgeous nudity, she glanced shyly and even a little fearfully at him, but made no movement to begin.

"Come on, dear. It's okay. It's just me."

She turned her head away from him, then closed her eyes. Letting out several deep breaths, she first took her breasts in both hands and gave them a little squeeze, then squeezed them harder, twirling the nipples with her fingers. That made her expel a little moan, and a little frown suddenly appeared on her forehead, as if she had felt a twinge of pain. Damon loved to see that frown, because he knew from experience that Iris was actually feeling the first stirrings of sexual pleasure.

With seeming reluctance, she let one hand snake down toward her groin while keeping one hand on her breast. She licked her lips several times while, as Damon stared avidly, she peeled open her rose-petal (iris-petal?) labia and stroked them gently. He could see that they were already wet (some of that wetness was probably his), and her fingers were quickly coated with clear fluid. Now she was groaning softly, at times biting her lower lip, and at other times (and this was also something Damon loved to see) sticking out her slender, pink tongue just a little out of her mouth.

She gave up squeezing her breasts and brought both hands down to her sex: one hand kept her labia open, and the other started rubbing her clitoris—gently at first, then more vigorously. By this time her hips were starting to buck, and strange little mewing sounds were coming out of her mouth. Once she unexpectedly reached a hand under herself to squeeze her bottom, but the hand soon returned to her delta as it now became thoroughly drenched with her own wetness. Her back was arching and that tongue was thrust far out of her mouth, although her eyes remained tightly closed. (God, I wish I knew what she was fantasizing about! Damon thought.)

As she rubbed herself harder and harder, those mewing sounds suddenly altered to her patented choking cries. Her eyes popped open, and she all but screamed as she continued to stroke herself as her climax coursed through her entire frame.

Damon wasn't just watching. As this whole exquisite little drama was unfolding, he had begun stroking himself, and as soon as he heard Iris's screams he raised himself up and spurted a fountain of his discharge all over her breasts. When she felt the hot stuff spatter her, she cried out even more shrilly, squeezing the last bits of pleasure out of her orgasm.

They both fell back on the bed, exhausted.

"That . . . that was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Damon said at the ceiling.

"Thank you, dear," Iris said between ragged breaths.

He turned to her, peering at the thick drops of his come all over her chest. He scooped some up with his fingers and brought it to her lips.

"Did you like that?" he said, referring to her climax.

She opened her mouth dutifully and licked the come off his fingers. "Yes—very satisfying."

He continued his actions until she had swallowed his entire emission.

"You like my stuff too?" he said.

"It's okay," she said, licking her lips to let the last few remnants slide down her throat.

He impulsively kissed her.

"You're the best, Iris!"

*

The next stage of the peculiar relationship between this trio—teacher and two students—was pretty much inevitable.

The guys had fallen naturally into a schedule with Iris, each occupying her bed every other night. Being young and vigorous (and deeply in love with her), they felt that sex with her three times a week was just barely enough; somehow it didn't dawn upon them that that meant Iris was accommodating them six nights a week. (They charitably gave her Sunday off, allowing her to remain in her bed alone while they occupied the other two guest bedrooms. Sunday was a day of rest, after all!) Every so often, however, one or the other of the boys took her at other times of the day, whenever the spirit moved them—as when Damon had poked her in the backside while she was doing the dishes. Sometimes Iris claimed to object to their unrelenting demands, but in reality she was thrilled and inspired that she could stimulate two such robust specimens of young manhood with her face, figure, and (as they were not slow to remind her) the contents of her mind and heart.

It was a Saturday night—Damon's turn with his beloved. He had undertaken a particularly thorough exploration of her vagina, and afterward felt the need to retire to the bathroom to clean up a bit. As he was sauntering (naked, of course) along the corridor, he saw Brad coming out of his bedroom.

Brad wasn't wearing much—only his briefs. Damon couldn't help notice the distortion of the fabric in front. And a thought occurred to him.

"Why don't you head into the bedroom?" he said, indicating the master bedroom with a nod of the head.

"But—but," Brad said, "it's your night with her."

"I think she won't mind some company," Damon said equably.

Brad wasn't slow on the uptake. Stripping himself of his underwear and tossing it back in the general direction of his bedroom, he walked stiffly into the master bedroom.

He saw Iris lying on her side, her back to the door.

"Hi, ma'am," he said tentatively. He still had a little trouble saying Iris's name.

She turned around slowly. "Hi, Brad. What are you—?"

Damon had returned from the bathroom by this time. "I invited him. I hope you don't mind."

She gazed raptly at the two men who had made themselves so much at home in her house. Brad already had an immense erection, and Damon's member was rapidly swelling.

Iris smiled softly; her eyes shone brightly. "All right," she said quietly.

She urged Brad to take a position with his back to the headboard, his legs splayed out. Taking his cock in both hands, she slowly inserted it into her mouth, licking and sucking it in a way that made Brad gasp as he stared down at the head bobbing on his groin. Damon also took in the sight, beaming jovially like a father expressing pride in a son's accomplishments.

It didn't seem to require any words for the three of them to understand what was in the offing. Brad presently slid down so that he was lying flat on his back, and Iris climbed on top of him and inserted his cock into her pussy. Brad didn't seem to mind that it was already sopping wet from her and Damon's previous emissions. As she got into a slow, careful rhythm with him, Damon moved into his own position.

Squatting behind the copulating pair, he scooted up so that his own member was inches away from Iris's bottom. She had already lubricated herself, so there was no barrier to his entry. And enter her he did.

It was now Iris who let out a huge gasp as she felt, for the first time, two men mount her at the same time.

The sensation was indescribable. As she rested her head in the crook of Brad's neck, she felt his hands cup her large breasts while Damon seized the cheeks of her bottom. But it was the penetration of their two substantial cocks in her pussy and anus that made her almost faint away with ecstasy. There was such an overwhelming sense of physical and spiritual union with these two glorious males that she couldn't for the life of her find the words to express her feelings. Their rhythm wasn't entirely in tandem, but that only enhanced her feelings: as one cock came close to pulling out, the other plunged in to the hilt.

She clung desperately to Brad's neck as she felt filled as never before. There was also an ineffable sense of her triumphal power as a female: no man could possibly take two women at the same time, but she was simultaneously accepting the pinnacle of two men's worship of her, and managing it with ease. She hoped that it could go on forever.

It was some minutes into this transcendent act that Brad whispered in her ear, "I love you so much, ma'am."

"I love you too, dear," she whispered back. It was the first time she had said those words to him, and she meant them.

The men seemed intent on achieving climax as close together as possible. In fact, Damon, occupying the tighter orifice, came first, and his grunts and groans seemed to inspire Brad to a similar culmination. The flooding of both of her zones with these men's most precious substance was inexpressibly delightful, triggering her own bone-shaking orgasm.

When they both pulled out of her, she felt such a sense of emptiness that she almost burst into tears. It was at that moment that she realized how natural it was for a woman to have one—or two—cocks to fill her body and her soul.

The three flopped on the bed in exhaustion, but they weren't done yet. After some suitable rest—and cuddling that involved both men lying on either side of her and fastening their hands and lips on each of her breasts—they resumed the fusion of their bodies. This time Iris lay on her side, with Damon in front and Brad behind. This position was quite a bit more comfortable for her, and as she wrapped her arms around Damon's neck she wished it could go on forever. In fact, it did go on for close to half an hour—and again resulted in thunderous climaxes for all concerned.

There was a mutual decision to repeat this act of communal love at least once a week.