Total Woman Trainers Ch. 06

Ned, the Total Woman Academy Coach Tutor Emeritus, looked out the window of the G280 Gulfstream as the gaps in the billowy clouds peeked through with vistas of the passing ground below. He had just completed a multiday transfer recruitment and a special coed evaluation assessment last week.

Though Ned was still in good shape for a middle aged man, the younger Coach Tutors were more adept at a typically packed schedule of Evaluation Assessments and he had scheduled himself for a holiday break to recuperate from the professional burden. But right on the heels of the last round of assignments, TWA Headquarters had decided Ned was the perfect man for this imminent series of engagements.

It was the organization's endless ordeal to solicit sufficient numbers of fine young ladies for Total Woman Academy Scholarships. Most coed recruitments arose from covert referrals by former graduates and current Pledge Contributors. But to supplement that substantial, though insufficient pipeline, TWA Recruitment contingents trolled college campuses, modelling agencies and cheerleader summer camps for external aspirants.

After applicant candidate background checks, the affirmatively graded ladies were rostered for additional culling.

Confidential preliminary briefings divulged vague details of the curriculum, the residential campus roles and rules, and the incomparable merits of graduation. The final roster of selectees was then assigned to Coach Tutors for pre-enrollment evaluation assessments. If those were successful, then complete program details and enrollment itineraries were shared.

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Abby, the Blonde Southern California Naturalist

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The flight deck cabin door was open and Ned could see Krystal, his dedicated Pilot and Recruitment Tour Coordinator, studying the horizon and her flight instruments. This was her annually scheduled time to fulfill her post-graduate month of service to the TWA Scholarship Fund.

Her long blonde hair was captured like a headband under the yoke of the flight headphones. He overheard Krystal's call to the control tower requesting landing permission and instructions.

"Van Nuys Control, this is TWA 001 requesting a vector for landing."

"TWA 001, proceed to outer marker for Runway 34, winds from the northeast at 15 MPH, you are cleared as next in line. Happy Landings, Lil Miss Sunshine."

Krystal smirked at the chummy chatter. The lilt of her voice seemed to bring out the sass in the small airports' air controllers. She keyed the jet's internal intercom.

"Six minutes to touchdown, sir. Please buckle in."

Ned fixed his seatbelt and watched the ground rise up closer and closer. The concrete runway appeared beneath his view, the wheels bumped down, and the plane shuddered as Krystal reversed engine thrust. They slowed and taxied to the private jet terminal.

She shut down the engines of TWA's G280, trotted down the foldout stairs, and gave directions to the ground crew to have the jet fueled and ready for takeoff tomorrow. She focused again on her VIP passenger.

Krystal escorted Ned to the black town car waiting on the apron, opening the rear door and seating her alpha male charge inside. She wheeled the car from the airport, down I-405 to Santa Monica, turned north on the Pacific Coast Highway, and ended their 30 minute ground trip at Malibu.

Pulling into their beachfront rental bungalow's driveway, Krystal carted their luggage inside and they changed to swimwear for Ned's first scheduled appointment, a meeting on the adjacent topless beach.

The pair strode across the bungalow's beachside entrance patio, shielding their eyes with flat palms as they surveyed the expanse of nudist beach speckled with tanning female flesh, searching for the blonde they were there for Ned to meet.

Krystal scanned the long surf-lapped sand and pointed out a topless sun worshipper standing at mid-distance.

"Over there."

Ned looked where his Coordinator pointed.

A tall, tanned, athletic built female, her waist length blonde hair fluttering in the sea breeze, was scanning beyond the sunbathing crowd. She also seemed to be looking for her party at this meeting's appointed time.

Ned turned his head back from the nude cornucopia of flesh distributed on the beach towels. He surveyed his bikini clad combination pilot, chauffeur and coordinator.

"Damn, girl. You're positively overdressed!"

Ned swiftly pulled the center front tie and removed the congenial Krystal's bandeau bikini top. He nodded admiringly at her generous tits. She playfully flexed her back, giving a tit waggling shimmy to give him a frisky show. He tossed the top aside on the sand; it was now superfluous for their day at the nude beach.

"Much better" he laughed, patting her thong exposed ass cheeks. She smiled at his repartee and marched toward the shore and their rendezvous with the waiting blonde.

Both strolled inconspicuous through the half-naked lounging bodies to Abby, who was waiting at her oversized beach towel laid out on the sand. Ned plopped down at her side for a nonchalant rapport building chat.

Krystal kept an alert watch for nosy neighbors while the pair got to know each other. Several muscle beach bodies scanned her direction as they passed by and she was sure they made eyes contact with her. 'Check that out later' she thought.

Ned queried Abby about her life story, why she was here with him now and let her confirm in her own words what he had reviewed in her scholarship application and background check summary.

Abby hailed from Minnesota, fourth generation Swedish heritage, the youngest of four sisters. Her older siblings had married young and birthed a brood of children.

Her father owned a successful machine parts manufacturing conglomerate, traveled alone frequently for weekend meetings and conferences, but over the last year he had invited Abby to tag along on several marketing trips to Florida and California. She fell in love with sand and sea, and everyday sunshine.

She met several of her father's tycoon business associates in social settings. Some were overly attentive, indelicately remarking on her physical comeliness, even while chaperoned by their own stunning young eye candy.

Growing ambivalent about her higher education choices in the snowfields, when approached by a boutique modelling agency, Abby fled the cold winters and foreseeable motherhood in Minnesota to the sunny shores of California.

After stagnating a few months at waitressing, modelling, and being a stand-in extra for advertising shoots, her agent favored an alternate path to success through an elite academy scholarship.

When she asked her father's advice, his voice boomed through the phone line.

"Go For It!"

She was secretly vetted by TWA Recruitment and vaguely briefed on the beauty, intelligence and poise curriculum and its enrollment prerequisites, including today's Evaluation Assessment by an Academy recruiting representative.

Ned had reviewed her file and knew her physical particulars, but he wanted to gauge her candor for sharing her personal, especially intimate, details with a new male acquaintance similar in age and attitude to her father's over-friendly middle-aged business associates.

So he nudged the conversation to questions regarding Abby's sexuality,

He noted she exhibited no piercings or tattoos, indicating a wholesome attitude about her body. She volunteered her new found love of healthy habits, a low carb-low fat diet, Yoga, fresh air, and lots of sunshine.

Ned queried her on her weight and height. Average for her top heavy tallness.

"Is your public hair shaved, trimmed or fuzzy?" "Shaved for cleanliness."

"What are your favorite erogenous zones?" "Pussy, nipples, behind my knees, and my neck just below my ears."

"Do you orgasm easily?" "Generally, but it depends on how much I like the man." "We'll work on expanding that feature."

"Can you hold back or speed up your orgasm timing and control." "I usually let nature take its course." "We'll work on improving that, too."

"Nice boobs. What size?" "36 C" "Natural or implants?"

She tilted her head back with pride.

"I'm a naturalist. They're real." "Really? Let me see for myself."

He reached out and cupped each boob, squeezing firmly to confirm her claim of natural.

"How many past boyfriends?" "Six" "Was the sex mutually enjoyable?" "Mostly."

"What was your age when you lost your virginity?" "19."

"Did you have any blowjob or handjob experience prior to that?" "Maybe a few."

"How about deepthroat?" "Managed it once." "Do you swallow?" "I do when I have to."

She confessed to a series of inadequate boyfriends who cried when she dumped them, after finding them unsophisticated about her emotional and physical sexual satisfaction. That's why, when TWA Recruitment had promised her access to an intimate network of many powerful alpha males, she had agreed to apply for the scholarship.

"I'm still amazed by my singular stroke of luck."

Ned knew that, with Abby's sexual allure, her poise curriculum would be repeated strokes of lust instead of a singular stroke of luck. He assured her that, if recommended, she would find that intimate network very deep and very satisfying for many years to come.

Ned and Abby left at late afternoon, walking hand in hand to the beach bungalow where she had been staying since yesterday, awaiting the interviewer. Krystal hung back at the beach to give them privacy.

It was time for Abby's afternoon yoga practice and Ned agreed to join her on the living room foam mats, feeling the need for muscle and libido stress relief built up by the travel and Abby's tantalizing presence.

Toned, flexible Abby led Ned through a full body yoga stretch routine.

She steered him through standing, inverted and seated stances. Her twisting naked body gave him multiple angled views of her exquisite physique. She touched him often during the hour, correcting his form, finally laying her bare breasts and body weight against his back when he needed help reaching his toes during the final seated forward fold.

Ned felt light headed from the strain of the body contortions and his growing genital pressure. Abby let him ease up a little from the forward fold, her fingers gripping his ankles and bending his legs into a Lotus pose with the soles of his feet placed together inches in front of his ball sac.

Her fingertips tickled his inner thighs as she walked her digits up to his genitals. One hand cupped his sac, the other lifted into a slow stroke on his cock, bringing life and hardness to his manhood. Soon he was erect, just the way she wanted him.

She slithered around him; her legs hugged his waist, her arms circled his neck, leaning her weight away to keep him seated upright. She settled her groin against his, with her ankles crossed behind his back. It was a lap mounted match to his Lotus pose.

She threw her hair back, unhampering his contact with her bare breasts. She hugged his body and nuzzled a kiss. His arms circled around her, loosely hugging her body beneath the long blonde hair fall. Her stiff nipples brushed his chest.

She lifted her hips and then melted her hot wet pussy down over his erection. He moaned under her hair, his lips suckling her neck just below her ears.

She took control of the strokes, her lithe Yoga-toned strength driving her body movements, sliding up and down his shaft. She knew how to do fluid ass rolls at the bottom that dragged his deeply buried coronal nook against her quivering inner membranes as she drew back up his shaft.

He was immersed in her erotic plan. He smelled her presence, the green botanical aroma of her hair softener, and the coconut oils in her sunscreen. Her hard nipples tickled his chest. He closed his eyes and his mind emptied of all worldly cares, focused solely on the sensations. He felt tingles building in his cock and balls.

She never let up and he soon discharged his bodily aches and his teeming sperm into her comforting body and soul. Abby had soothed his sexual anguish with her mind dimming tantric fuck.

She held him in but stretched out her legs behind him, bracing her feet wide to stabilize their seated stance. Her lips pecked his forehead, his nose and moved to his ear. Her whisper barely registered.

"Can you hear me, my darling? Are you back in our waking world?"

He groggily mumbled his response. She stayed in genital connection until she felt his erection soften and fall out. She laid him in post Yoga savanna nana pose, a camphor scented cloth over his face as he rested and recovered.

Remaining nude, she prepared her culinary specialty, a healthy seaweed salad with poached white fish. She served it as a candle lit dinner, shared naked and ending with a sugarless orange and lime sorbet.

During the light post orgasmic conversation, Abby juxtaposed their sensational tantric fuck to the quickies and banal rutting of the studio producers whose empty promises she had succumbed to. They never offered her substantial roles in the industry. She felt passed around, used. She wanted a surer pathway toward real career advancement, something the TWA philosophy more reliably promulgated.

She softly took his hand, drew him from the table and led him toward the sea-facing bedroom. The sliding window wall was open. Moonlight filtered in and gave the bedroom a romantic glow.

She pulled him into bed, moved them into a sidesaddle pose. He was fully awake this time for the insertion and sweet movements inside her. She responded with coos of pleasure but his macho ego needed more control and he rolled to get himself on top.

His strokes were masterful, a deep slow plunge while in lip locked kiss. They paused as he lifted his face to watch her blue eyes swell as he dragged his fat knob back along her warm channel. Halting just at the entrance, he stopped with barely his knob connected. Then another kiss while he pushed a long firm stroke back down to depth.

The light sea breeze billowed the loose curtains on open wall facing the sea, cooling the heated bodies connected in coitus. They were serenaded during their slow sensual mating by the background sea and fauna sounds, the staccato patter from a light sprinkle of rain.

Abby's breathing rose in pace and volume until she naturally went rigid, her pussy pulsating along Ned's cock. He waited her out as she climaxed with a loud cry, hugging him tightly. He felt her body soften and initiated the vigorous strokes that put him over the top and drenched her womb with his spunk.

They lay cuddled in the pose and fell asleep.

Krystal returned late in the night, carrying the beach paraphernalia, after having completed a quickie hookup with an infatuated beach bodybuilder. She never found her bikini top, probably collected by a passing beachcomber.

The disturbance stirred the sex fatigued pair, but not so fatigued that they couldn't engage in another round of relaxed petting and fucking.

In the morning, Ned, Krystal and Abby shared a breakfast of fruit, yogurt and green tea.

Krystal gathered Ned's discarded clothes and packed them into the car, laying out today's travel clothes on the bed. They readied to depart for their next appointment elsewhere; Abby had satisfactorily completed Ned's Evaluation Assessment.

She was informed her escort to the TWA Campus Induction would arrive in a few days. Meanwhile, she could enjoy the bungalow for the intervening time, including guests, since according to Krystal there were apparently some manly men in the vicinity. Abby nodded brightly in concurrence.

The town car was gassed up and waiting for them in the driveway. Krystal whispered to Ned as they stood at the bungalow door.

"Oh, yes, thank you, Krystal. Abby, I almost forgot. I need one more thing from you to finalize your Evaluation Assessment."

Before she could even respond, he pulled the side ties of her white bikini thong, drew the cloth off her hips, and gripped the wad in his fist.

"I always retain a token reminder, a memento of my successful inductees."

After bijou kisses all around, naked Abby waved her Evaluation Assessment team goodbye as they drove off.

As Krystal wheeled them back to the airport, Ned mulled over the astonishing future being afforded the magnificent Abby, and her passing befuddled anxiety when she eventually encountered her generous TWA Scholarship benefactors.

Abby's father, a few Hollywood producer buddies and other TWA Pledge Contributor business associates were going to realize spectacularly gratifying returns for their generous scholarship fund investment. They would augment her poise lessons, booking roster slots as her guest coach tutors for private sessions, family incest acclimation and Freewill Weekends.

Her father should inevitably be satisfied with the Total Woman Academy reputation for instilling sensual excellence in its graduates when he finalized Abby's graduation requirements at her obligatory Father-Daughter Weekend.

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Brenda, the Brunette Cowgirl

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Tom sat behind his big desk. Bob, his friend and business collaborator, sat across from him. They had discussed their latest business venture. Tom had purchased some adjacent acreage with his past profits and Tom had gained additional oil leases on the expanding parcels of Bob's modestly successful horse and cattle ranch.

Tom was feeling jolly about their state of affairs and offered Bob a celebratory cigar.

"No thanks, you know I don't smoke."

"Or drink, you teetotaler. Mind if I do?"

"Nah, go ahead."

Bob seemed subdued today, concerning Tom. He liked their arrangement and wanted his friend to be happy.

"Everything okay at the ranch?"

Bob sighed, "Yeah, but I'm worried about Brenda."

"What's up?

"She's going to Casper College now, just as I promised her late mother. But I don't like the look of things. She's hanging out at the state fairgrounds with that bunch of rowdy cowboys. I was just a cowpoke myself but got lucky when you found oil on my small holdings."

"And made us both a shitload of money!"

"Yeah, thanks. But luck's a fickle thing and Brenda may not get any more out of life than a ranch hand cowboy and a bunch of kids. I want more for her. She deserves better than that."

Tom leaned back and blew a puff of bluish smoke at the ceiling. He had seen Brenda grow up after her mother passed away, a little wild without an adult woman's guiding hand at home. He found the buxom lass quite alluring and even now, his cock gave a twitch. But he always followed the sometimes silly rule about never fishing off the company dock. It was bad for business.

But maybe there was another way. Tom, the oil and cattle magnate and, unknown to Bob or any of his local friends, was a TWA Pledge Contributor, and his cock twitched at another thought of Brenda joining him in bed. She was a vivacious pretty young woman, and he imagined anew the carnal possibilities.

"So Bob, what if she transfers to another college out of town, or even out of state, something upscale, mingled on-campus with men of substance and stature?"

"As good as that sounds, Tom, I'm getting along okay but I don't have the money for that. Land rich but cash poor."

"Leave it to me, my friend, I know of scholarships available for worthy young coeds. Let me make some calls and see what I can arrange."

"Thanks, Tom. I really appreciate your interest in Brenda's development."

"Not at all, Bob. I'll take care of everything."

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A few weeks later, the TWA G280 business jet sliced the blue sky above the prairie.

"KCPR Business Airport, Casper Control, this is TWA 001 requesting a vector for landing."

"TWA 001, proceed to outer marker for Runway 8/21, winds from the northwest at 25 MPH. Welcome to the Cowboy State, darling."

Krystal grimaced. 'Darling? Not cowgirl or prairie bunny? This guy's game is lame.'