Student and Teacher Ch. 20

"Hal," Iris repeated when he failed to respond, "what happened to you?"

He gave her a smirk of dismay. "What didn't happen to me? I've made a mess of my life, that's what."

"But—but how? Didn't you go to Ohio State? Obviously, after—what happened—I didn't really want to keep in touch with you. But I figured you'd be a star on the team, and maybe even get into the NFL."

He chortled in self-contempt. "Are you kidding? I was never that good. Sure, they gave me a scholarship, and I managed to get on the team—as a second-stringer. Never got beyond that. 'Course, my drinking didn't help. That's my besetting sin—and it is a sin, you know."

"Oh, Hal . . ." she began. For all the horror of their last encounter fifteen years ago, she felt both pity and sympathy for him. What he had done to her wasn't really him—it was the liquor.

"Whatever happened with you and—and Maryann?" she went on.

Another chortle. "Her? I never spoke to her again. I have no idea where she is. Probably married to some guy with a half-dozen babies."

After a pause he said, "Iris, I really liked you back in high school. You—you were the only one who thought that stupid poetry I wrote was worth something."

"It was worth something, Hal. It wasn't stupid."

"Maybe it wasn't, but I guess I didn't feel it was 'manly' to be writing that stuff."

"Hal, a lot of the great poets of the world are men."

"Sure, I know that. But I thought it didn't suit my image as the big, tough football player. But I really liked writing it—it got a lot of stuff out that I needed to get out."

"You can still do it."

He shook his head. "Not a chance. I wouldn't even know how anymore."

Then his whole body gave a shudder. "But that's not why I'm here. Iris, I've come because I've reached that stage in my program where I have to—no, I want to—apologize to all the people I've harmed over the years. There've been a lot of them, but what I did to you was the worst. God, what a scumbag I was, trying to—to—" He couldn't finish.

"Oh, Hal, it's okay," Iris said. "I've pretty much forgotten all about it." That wasn't entirely true, but it was something she felt Hal needed to hear.

He continued to shake his head. "No, you can't let me off that easily. I have to tell you how sorry I am. I am sorry, Iris—I am!"

"I know you are," she said—but at that point Hal fell to the floor on his knees, covering his face with his hands and bursting into tears.

"Oh, Hal, please!" she began, approaching him with arms extended.

But all he was saying was, "Oh, God! Oh, God!" over and over again.

As she came close to him, he flung his arms around her waist and buried his head in her belly. She could feel the tears soak into the thin fabric of her wraparound skirt, and she simply stood there and stroked his head as if he were a huge baby needing comfort from his mother. But as Hal continued to cling to her, the skirt began slipping down over her hips: there was only an elastic waistband holding it in place, and Hal's frenetic actions were inadvertently causing it to fall down. And her panties were falling with it.

Incredibly, Hal didn't seem to notice that his face was now resting against her exposed groin.

Iris was uncertain what to do. She was mortified at revealing her private parts to a man she hadn't seen for fifteen years, but she was hesitant to chide him for fear that he would react in some sort of hysterical manner, sending him spiralling even further into paroxysms of self-loathing. In fact, the presence of his tear-stained face against her delta wasn't at all displeasing, and Hal was unconsciously rubbing his face back and forth against the thick tuft of fur over her mons. She held it in place there, continuing to stroke the back of his head.

Only now did Hal realize what was happening. His sobbing was momentarily interrupted, and he gazed up at Iris with a look that could only be called reverent. Iris, indeed, suddenly felt like some kind of Madonna, and she gazed down at Hal with a gentle smile.

With a sense of the sanctity of what he was about to do, he bent down and began licking her sex.

The act was not lewd in the slightest; it was, instead, a purgation of the guilt he felt at the violent act he had inflicted on this woman a decade and a half ago, in the grip of his alcohol and his childish arrogance. As he continued to lick and nuzzle her clitoris and labia, eliciting soft moans from Iris as she continued to stroke his head, he grasped that he owed Iris this excursion into ecstasy, while he himself was deriving only secondary pleasure from it. His hands were now firmly on her bottom, stroking them and gaining a thorough awareness of their exquisite firmness and rondure. And as he sensed Iris's climax approaching, he licked and sucked with the fervor of a penitent making obeisance at a holy shrine.

She came violently and shudderingly, almost losing her balance as her knees came close to buckling. Hal managed to support her on her feet while continuing his ministrations for minutes on end, until her orgasm had fully run its course.

Afterward, she staggered backward and landed on the big king-size bed, her legs splayed and displaying to Hal's gaze the sopping cleft he had just tasted. But Iris felt no embarrassment at thus exposing herself, for the love she felt for this man—a love that was in some senses nothing more than a schoolgirl crush, but was now leavened by an anguished pity over his physical and spiritual decline—made her feel supremely comfortable in his company. In fact, she calmly peeled off her blouse and bra to reveal her nudity to him. He gaped at her as if in the presence of a goddess who had descended from the heavens to mingle with her human worshippers.

He had remained on his knees, like a suppliant, and she now approached him and silently pulled him up to his feet. Then, calmly and patiently, she undressed him, removing shirt, pants, socks, and underwear while giving him soft kisses on the mouth. When his own nakedness was revealed, she nodded approvingly at the size of his member—at least as long as Damon's, perhaps a fraction of an inch longer. It was not quite hard, and she now fell to her knees to remedy that situation.

But then she encountered an obstacle.

Experienced as she now was at oral sex, her licking and sucking—even when accompanied by a light tickling of the balls, which she knew nearly every man liked, not to mention some firm stroking of his bottom—failed to produce the requisite hardness in Hal. As she peered up covertly at him, she saw his face take on an expression of frustration, misery, and shame. The poor man is trying too hard, she reflected.

"Oh, Hal," she said gently, "just relax. It'll happen."

"It won't happen," he said lugubriously. "It's all the drink that I poisoned my system with for so many years. I've not touched a drop for five years, but there are many times I just can't—manage. Not that I've had much occasion to: it's been years and years since I've had a girlfriend, and even she was more of a drinking buddy than a real girlfriend."

He pulled his member out of Iris's mouth and flung himself on the loveseat, curling up into a ball as if he wanted nothing more than to cover his nudity—or get the hell out of the house.

Iris stood up and, contemplating her long-lost lover, made a quick decision.

"You stay right there," she ordered in her best schoolmarm voice. "I'll be back in a flash."

She went to the closet, flung a thin robe over herself, left the room, and headed downstairs. Hal, for his part, thought wildly of leaping out of the second-story window and bolting from the place. He wondered if it was a huge mistake to have come here: all he had wanted and expected to do was to offer his profuse apologies to this incredible woman (a woman who, in his heart of hearts, he knew he loved far more than any of the floozies and tarts with whom he had had fleeting and unsatisfying involvements over the years), and he had never dreamed that he would ever find himself in a position of potential intimacy with her. As he continued to wallow in self-pity and self-recrimination, the door opened—and an amazing sight met him.

Four women marched into the room. They looked upon the naked man without the slightest trace of surprise or awkwardness. The eyes of some of them, he noticed, widened with pleasure at the sight of his impressive physique, which had not entirely been devastated by his addiction to liquor. He was still hiding his unperforming member, but now felt some faint stirrings in that direction that he hadn't felt in many years.

"Hal," Iris said as if making introductions at a tea party, "this is Nan, Sylvia, and Vera. They want to—help you."

And with that, each woman began undressing. Iris had nothing to do but to doff her robe, but the other women took some care in freeing themselves of skirts, blouses, dresses, bras, and underwear. In a matter of minutes, his astonished gaze took in the sight of four superlatively beautiful but very different women:

Nan, slender, sylphlike, looking far younger than her years.

Sylvia, a striking contrast to Nan with her succulent heft and luscious curves.

Vera, the very picture of ripe womanhood and seemingly ageless in her proud, firm breasts and round bottom.

And Iris, now seeming strangely virginal in comparison with the other women, in spite of her exuberant breasts and the thick fur at her delta.

Hal now stood up, still uncertain whether he was even permitted to look at these four gorgeous creatures, let alone touch them. They, in turn, stared smilingly at his groin—for, unbeknownst to him, it was now standing at attention, so firm and hard that it was almost touching his abdomen and quivering in anticipation.

They guided him to the bed, making him lie down on his back. Each one of them allowed him to caress their breasts, bottoms, thighs, stomachs, backs, and faces with his hands and mouth, and after a while they got into position as if on some secret signal. Vera sat on his face; Nan and Sylvia squatted on either side of him and, each taking a hand, directed it to their moistening crevices; and Iris, as the obvious queen of this exquisite quartet of feminine beauty, rested on his legs, took his engorged organ in her hand, and then placed it emphatically in her sex, engulfing it to the root.

Hal couldn't see much of what was happening, since Vera's thighs and cleft blocked out most of his vision; but he could feel his tongue slipping into her cleft, his fingers coaxing Nan and Sylvia's pussies to flow with their own juices, and—most transcendent of all—his cock impaling an utterly willing Iris, fifteen years after his clumsy and disgraceful attack. And if he couldn't see much, he could hear plenty: the moans, groans, cries, and squeals of four women as he serviced them all at the same time.

He wasn't sure who came first: himself or any of the women. The climaxes all seemed to happen nearly simultaneously, and the explosion in his own member seemed matched by the dripping wetness of the females as they all experienced a thoroughly satisfying orgasm. But his pleasurable work wasn't done yet, and in due course of time he was allowed to penetrate every one of the women anally, as they lined up on the bed on their hands and knees, their hips touching. He entered each woman gently and tenderly, staying in her for only a few minutes before moving on to the next one; where possible, he used both hands to tickle their sex to keep them aroused, although that was hardly necessary. He couldn't remember in whose bottom he finally came, but it was a glorious culmination in any case—the first time he had come twice since his college years, before his body had been fully ravaged by alcohol.

The women even coaxed yet another climax out of him by successively sucking him, a few minuets at a time just as he had done. This time it was the radiant Vera who drank down every last drop of his emission, and he could see that the other women were happily envious of her.

The men in the household, all congregating downstairs, knew full well what was happening, but they didn't intervene. They had vaguely heard that this was some old lover of Iris's who had returned out of the blue, and they felt that this reunion—even if augmented by three women whom Hal did not know at all, but who seemed to be contributing vitally to his well-being—should be conducted without their involvement. They all had a dim sense that Hal would become an indispensable new element in their domestic circle.

Hal spent the night alone with Iris, and they continued to cuddle and talk and kiss and copulate. She made him come twice more before they fell into an exhausted sleep. And it was not long before, by mutual consent, he moved into the house.

The gender division was now equal at last: four men and four women!

*

Later that summer, as the baseball season was winding down, there was an unprecedented session at Iris's house with all twenty-six members of the team, augmented by Wallace and Hal. In a period of more than eight hours, the twenty-eight men each came at least four times; eight of them came five times. The marathon was interrupted after four hours by an immense order of Chinese takeout, which everyone ate naked, some of the women sitting on a man's lap and being hand-fed by him; then the partying resumed. The unofficial breakdown was something like this:

Iris was penetrated thirty-two times, Vera thirty times, Nan twenty-nine times, and Sylvia twenty-seven times. None of the women could keep track of exactly how they had been entered, but they all knew that their pussies, bottoms, and mouths had all gotten a thorough workout.

And Nan could take pride in being entered by every man present, fulfilling a long-held dream. She couldn't remember which man had come twice in her.

This was definitely something that was going to be repeated soon—as soon as the men could summon up the energy!

*

After graduation the following year, there were a pair of double weddings. Damon and Nan tied the knot, while Iris and Hal did the same. Then, a month later, Vera and Wallace became husband and wife again, and Sylvia and Brad were united. By this time, the eight occupants of Iris's house were convinced that they needed a much larger place for themselves, and so they all pitched in to buy a huge house near the Westminster campus that had unexpectedly become available. They continued to rotate their bedmates in a specific sequence, and the men frequently allowed two of the women to bed down with each other, sensing how much they enjoyed it. On those occasions, the other two women each welcomed two men in their beds.

And so a good time was had by all.

THE END