Trapped - A schoolboy and Teacher Story

"Shall I, Miss?" He was awaiting permission. Ballamine Ma. had not been one of the fighting, pushing boys desperately seeking to be between her thighs. He, she realised, had hung back, and was now thrust into the limelight. Not his usual position. Not front of class.

"Yes, Ballamine. Do it." She smiled encouragingly. But, but, what was she doing? If he did not want to copulate, then that would be one less. His erection, though, rather indicated otherwise. It was as strong as the others. Interesting to watch his face as he began to push in. A young man losing his virginity she was sure. A calmness about him despite the impatient noises behind him from Cohen and Duffield. Normally Dudley would have come between Cohen and Duffield in alphabetical order, but his semen was already within Tiffany. He was not in the line!

Not a 'bull in the china shop,' it was sort of as if Ballamine was in the Chemistry lab. undertaking an experiment. Careful and methodical. Tiffany wondered if he would write his notes up afterwards -- analysing the experience. A slow entrance, his face impassive, his eyes very much upon the joined sexual organs, definitely watching his organ probe -- seeing how far in it would go. In. then out, and then in again. A good feeling for Tiffany.

His knob was no longer covered when Ballamine pulled out, completely out, only to plunge back in. His whole knob exposed going from coral pink to garnet red at its edge. His foreskin had slipped.

"I thought you'd cum," said Cohen with considerable irritation. Hurry up!"

Possession, though, is nine tenths of the law and Ballamine was in occupation, his erect penis sliding within Tiffany. Being in occupation he was expecting 'quiet enjoyment' and said so, though not in quite the same words. Nonetheless his 'experiment' in sexual intercourse with his teacher was soon over. Too soon for him Tiffany was sure. The heat of a vagina devastating upon the control of a young virgin, and in went Cohen, holding Jen's hips and going at it like the clappers.

For Tiffany the suddenness and change of rhythm pleasing, but there was not the savouring and examination of the experience as had been the case with Ballamine. Cohen was clearly greedy for the climax, rather missing out that anticipation is a major part of an experience. A lack of 'Emotional Intelligence' perhaps!

From Cohen's speedy ejaculation came Duffield's slim and pointed member slipping easily in and working away to another climax; from the next boy, Fallows, came a further enthusiastic emission and on it went from one boy to the next until there was just a queue of one -- Totteridge. Just the one boy still with an erection, Totteridge, heavily built and with a stocky and thick penis to match, a rather flattened and oversailing head to it. Piston or plunger like. The last of the fifteen penises.

Tiffany had come, 'Rollo' Rolleston had done the trick, though she had been steadily building so it was not anything especial that he had particularly done. Tiffany rather fell into orgasm. If it was nothing especial on his part, her orgasm certainly did it for him. Her moaning and writhing pushed, or was it pulled, him over his edge. It was therefore one of those mutual orgasms, the woman 'seeing stars' as the penis ejaculated within her. Not exactly filling her because she could not have been fuller than she was already!

Tiffany had lain there in the afterglow of orgasm as Sumption did the deed after Rolleston and then it was the last young man's turn. Totteridge following on, getting ready to push his thick dick in. Tiffany was rather pleased to see Totteridge was the last as Sumption pulled out. She hadn't been counting but she could see he was the last boy 'standing.' A one-man queue.

No longer in a state of shaking arousal, Totteridge's classmates looked on with less interest than before. Penises hung relaxed and spent. What crept over the lads was amusement. Not amusement at Totteridge but at the very odd noises emanating from the copulation. His 'plunger' with its large, flattish knob was a tight fit and what with Tiffany's own wetness and the thick lubrication of thirteen ejaculations, the resultant sounds were very much the combination of liquid and compressed air.

The boys were kind enough to tell Totteridge it was not at him they were laughing but, try as he did, the sounds did not quieten, still less when he speeded up to come. The sound almost of a steam engine picking up speed. Sounds of engine like whistles from the boys at the moment Totteridge's probably virgin penis made its first insemination, pumping his stuff into the very full vagina. Even more amusement when Totteridge seemed to have difficulty pulling out.

"Wait," hissed Tiffany.

Totteridge stood there between Tiffany's thighs looking alternately at his penis and where it disappeared into Tiffany and up at her face, waiting to become flaccid again.

"That was nice, Miss." It probably still was! Totteridge clearly rather stunned by the whole experience. Sexual intercourse with his teacher, his lovely, attractive teacher -- for real. His penis actually there, really lodged inside her and... and, his semen inside her body. He reached down and patted her fur, slid a finger down her divide and rested it atop her clitoral hood.

"Don't," she said, "I'm too sensitive."

Tiffany was conscious just how full she was -- fifteen loads of young men's semen had been ejaculated -- fourteen within her. And she knew just what would happen when she rose from the table to the vertical and stood up. Gravity would have its effect. She would be unable to retain the semen. How often had she skipped to the bathroom after sexual intercourse holding her sex in her hand to prevent dripping on the carpet. This would be more than a drip. Much, much more. And the carpet so expensive, so old, so valuable. No way she could reach the large bowl upon the table either, before the 'deluge' -- and in any case there seemed something slightly distasteful at mixing the 'liquids.'

"I mustn't -- on the carpet. Passmore -- the glass!"

Totteridge extracted himself and, gingerly, as Passmore handed her the glass goblet they had drunk from, she stood holding the crystal glass between her legs. A gurgling, a sliding feeling and out it came in something of a deluge, a real snow like avalanche of warm cum. Fourteen loads kept warm inside her -- only Passmore had come upon her tummy, the rest had ejaculated inside her. Out it came, a real rush and then creamy swirls of thick semen slowly filling, the level in the glass rising. The boys stared at the glass and the running stream. They had only seen Passmore come, now they were seeing the result of each one of their ejaculations. A sort of massive cum, an incredible oozing load. Tiffany even caught some of Passmore's which had started to run down her skin, moving down from her breasts and stomach towards her pubic hair. Deftly caught and added to the filling glass.

Finally, no more came. Not that it had all left her vagina. Her insides no doubt remained liberally coated. Traces from no less than twenty-eight balls still within her. Terrible really, all her class, all fifteen, had been intimate with her. Most had pushed their manhood into her body and released -- apart from Passmore who had been pulled away before the release. Her relationship with her charges could never be the same again. They were not merely pupils but young men. She had felt each of their hardness, they had felt her wetness.

Carefully she placed the glass on the bookshelf. Full to the brim of all the boys' semen -- or at least what they had so far released. No longer a drinking glass but a very visible container of the boys' lust. They would all now have to drink directly from the tap unless someone, or some of them, or even all were to drink down the glassful of cum and empty it ready for water.

There was something just so wrong about emptying it into the fish handled bowl, mixing the cum and the wee. It just didn't feel right either to Tiffany or the boys. Nobody suggested it and nobody, either, suggested ingestion.

The party slipped into feelings of listlessness and boredom. There was nothing to do but drink water and await rescue. The door far too thick to batter down or saw through; had they a saw -- which they didn't. The windows painted solid and incapable of being opened. And the drop from them sheer -- but opening a window would have made the room cooler.

Again, Tiffany mused on just how they had ended up in this mess. In England it simply could not have happened. One teacher to fifteen pupils not permitted even if all of them were mature enough at eighteen. They would not have been allowed to wander through a historic building unescorted, there would probably have been people stationed in various rooms, certainly ones with valuable artefacts, sitting on chairs in the corners. But here, far away from England, rules were lax or non-existent. The coach had left them at the castle high in the mountains for the day, the old caretaker had greeted them, opened the castle and given them some sort of plan and then gone off and left them to their own devices. It had been thrilling having the whole place to themselves. She had managed to keep her party together. They were not, after all, young lads keen to scamper and run -- playing at castles. All had been wonderful, until they had become trapped in the room. The door just would not budge once closed. They had become imprisoned and with the coach not due to return for another six hours.

The boys cast occasional glances at Tiffany's naked body. She had not bothered to redress. It was just too hot, and they had more than seen and felt all. She well realised the feelings of ennui would disappear when the boys' refraction time passed. Copulation and sexual activity was certainly a way to pass the time and she knew their interest would return. And having taken her once, it would not take much, perhaps just as much as a single erection to light the blue touch paper once more. She needed to be ready. To have a plan to deal with fifteen rampant cocks. Had it been a mixed party. Fifteen boys and girls. It didn't bear thinking of. What could she tell the parents? Perhaps, though, she could have corralled the boys one end of the room and the girls the other. But all that peeing, all those open pussies and therefore all those erections.

It was not just boys who were lustful. Girls could be just as bad -- or worse. It might not just be boys trying to cross an imaginary line across the room but girls all coquettish and suggestive. A mass orgy might ensure. Penises pumping into girls left right and centre. Sounds of sexual intercourse all around the room, wet sounds, sighs, and groans. Could she separate them? Unlikely. It would have been best to make the boys all cum in that glass before they had a chance to interfere with the girls. But would they all wank to conclusion? Might some fake it -- yes, fake an orgasm -- so as to retain their semen for a girl? She would have had to do it for them. Wank all and see their cum come out. One after another into the glass. But what might be happening behind her back as she wanked one boy? Might she have had to take it upon herself, as had actually happened, and take all their semen herself to protect the girls. Take it vaginally as she had done. Offer that to keep the boys from the girls. Perhaps that would have been the right thing. What had happened was perhaps the right thing!

Awfully she had enjoyed it once past Passmore and Dudley, and it had even been OK with them. There was no point denying it to herself. She had come and would not forget the experience. But she couldn't do it again.

"Miss, I need to wee."

"Already, Passmore?" She made it come out as a sigh.

He was standing before her, his penis once more hard and up. These young men... and their penises. A fine looking young man, especially with all that red hair. It made him look slightly wild, rather exciting.

"Up you get then, up on the table."

What a sight. 'Ginge' Passmore standing upon the table, his young athletic body as naked as a Greek athlete but his penis anything but the little modest things you saw on Ancient Greek vases, rock hard and curving up from his gorgeous ginger curls. Seemingly completely unfazed by being up and on display. And he could see his teacher was looking at his cock -- his lovely cock. The swinging of his balls deliberate.

"Could you hold it for me, miss. I'm bursting."

Swollen fit to burst? What a knob the boy had. But he meant his bladder was fit to burst.

"I suppose so." Tiffany not averse to holding it. Not one little bit. She even stroked it as he splashed away into the bowl, Passmore on all fours. It, his penis, did not go down as he climbed off the table. There were still fifteen erections in front of her.

"Next!"

Each boy wanting her to hold them whilst they relieved themselves. And she did. Penis after penis in her hand filling the bowl the more. And then it was her turn. Her turn to squat and let her wee flow. Never with an audience before that day, but there they were. Her class with wide staring eyes looking right at her 'parts' as her wee hissed out into the deep pool in the so beautiful antique bowl.

She bobbed, shaking what she could from her and looked out at the sea of faces and, well, the sea of cocks -- or herd, or pack - and not one of them flaccid. Not one of them not sexually excited and ready to... The young, erect men were back -- in a pack.

I can't, boys, I'm already a bit sore. I can't, I really can't take another fifteen... cocks."

There was a collective intake of breath at 'Miss' using the 'cock' word.

"You really can't fuck me again!" As statement or was it a request not to do it. They could certainly fuck her again. They had the capability. It was her who really could not.

Another intake of breath. The 'f' word.

But around her penises were hard. There would be more semen. It would not be so much but young penises would produce again. And the glass was full to the brim. There was nowhere for the cum to go. Her hands could not hold all that jism. I would just run out between her fingers.

"I suppose. I suppose I could swallow..."

Fifteen pairs of eyes went wide and round, fifteen young erections jerked. Would Miss really do that?

She could, Tiffany knew she could do that. Seemingly she would have to. Suck and swallow. The semen had to go somewhere.

And then it occurred to her. Why should she not have them do that to her? When would she get such a chance again? Things had all gone far too far. What did any more intimacy matter? Why not take advantage of the situation, let her own sexuality and fantasies have full reign?

"Here's the deal, boys, I'll blow you all..."

A gasp at her phraseology.

"... if you all make me cum. But hands behind your backs. No hands and no cocks, just your tongues and lips all over my body. Oh, and everyone's tongue to go inside me at some point. You've had your cocks, and some of you your fingers, inside me; well, I want your tongues now. If I'm going to lick all of your pricks and wrap my lips around your hardness and -- drink your cum - you can do the same to me."

Surprised looks on most of the boys' faces -- but their cocks so hard. Surprised, again, at her choice of words. Surprised at what she was asking -- almost making -- them do. Fine young men every one of them. Tiffani was going to enjoy the suck -- cock after cock. And she was going to enjoy the boys' tongues all over her body. And in her body.

"No penises, just tongues and lips," Tiffany repeated her injunction as she took her place again upon the table. She sat for a moment, "hands behind backs."

What a sight. Fifteen naked young men almost in a row, putting their hands behind them, probably one hand clasping the wrist of the other. She could not see that but what she could see was fifteen hard penises sticking out to their front. Manly erect organs. Slowly she lowered herself back onto the tabletop and lifted her feet up onto the table, her knees rising into the air, and she spread. An invitation to come and feast -- upon woman.

A hint of hesitancy, and then Passmore asking -- his fellows not her -- if he should, 'go first.'

She had not expected that they would draw up a chair but that is exactly what Passmore did. He seated himself before her so exposed sex and grinned up at her between her spread thighs. So cheeky! His face framed between her knees. Almost as if he was about to pick up knife and fork or, perhaps, spoon. Delicate sips from a silver soup spoon rather than simply pushing his face down to the 'bowl.'

So much more delicate than an inexperienced plunging cock, ramming into her. The feathery touch of Passmore's tongue. Was it his first sampling of a woman -- like that? So much more delicate the dance of a tongue rather than the stabbing hardness of a hard penis. His lips on her lips. A kiss. It would be French.

Passmore exploring, Passmore's tongue and lips roving between her thighs. And then she felt it, so much smaller but so much more mobile than a cock, Passmore's tongue slipping into her. Yes!

And then the other boys coming forward, tongues upon her breasts, a tongue upon her stomach creeping towards her tummy button. Boys sucking upon her fingers. And who was that sucking on a toe? Tiffany surrounded by naked boys, Tiffany disappearing under a mountain of young male flesh as tongues and lips sought their own part of her body as Passmore's tongue sought to travel the deeper.

"Come on, move over Passmore."

Other boys seeking their turn. Their turn to bury their faces in girl wetness and feast. A final gentle suck upon her clitoris and Passmore relinquished the chair, but there was barely an interruption before a fresh tongue was tentatively exploring, finding its own way.

Her fingers were being sucked but it was not long before her grasping movement with both hands were interpreted and a cock was pressed into each hand. Just the one in each -- Tiffany would have liked two. The idea! Two cocks squeezed together in each hand.

None of the boys had yet thought -- or was it dared to lower his mouth to hers. It was Passmore who quietly moved around the other boys and first kissed her on the lips. It was Passmore who inveigled his tongue into her mouth. With another young man doing rather wonderful things to her other lips she opened her mouth to Passmore's inquiring tongue, tasting herself of course.

It was as good as Tiffany had hoped. An oral orgy upon her body. And the boys were good -- they had done as they were told and kept their hands behind their backs. Erotically helpless she had revelled in the wet onslaught of so many lips and tongues all over her body. She came twice -- unheard of! And all those hard cocks around to see and grasp in her hands, Fine rigid specimens with shiny, smooth heads.

Feeling rather weak she struggled to sit up and the boys fell back. Her class clustered around the table, sort of how they might have been for a chemistry or perhaps, more accurately, biology experiment. But not at all in uniform, though uniformly naked and delightfully erect. Fifteen cocks standing for her. Fifteen cocks she was now going to have to suck. She had promised. And not just suck...

"Class, line up in order."

A shuffling, a moving and there they all were lined up in alphabetical order -- of course -- once more. Fifteen young men across the room.

"Go on, wank, all of you."

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that. Fifteen of her class lined up and each one stroking. Swollen knobs appearing and disappearing within skin -- or half disappearing or even not disappearing at all. The difference from Ballamine to Cohen. And weren't all the penises different in various ways -- and the masturbation techniques. What a thing to watch.