Camilla Ch. 015byMawrGorshin©
That night, twelve of the male teachers at Camilla's school got together for drinks at Chuckie's, a small pub that was several blocks down the street from the school. Grisham, Hanson, and Pierce were among them. Each of them had already drunk several beers, so all twelve of them were quite tipsy.
"So, in a month, another group of girls is graduating and leaving us forever," Mr. Leroy, a French teacher, said before sipping on his beer. "Who do you think will be missed the most?"
"I'd say Akemi Hamasaki," said Mr. Grisham. "She's made great strides with her English, and she isn't as shy as she used to be. Good for her."
"Well, my vote goes to Camilla Mennon," Mr. Fulson, a math teacher, slurred: everyone froze at the sound of her name. "She's one of the brightest girls at our school, and...well, she has other interesting qualities, too..." He took a gulp of beer while smirking.
"Indeed, she does," said Mr. Burgess, a physics teacher. "And she's easy on the eye."
"Yeah," said Leroy. "Bit of a flirt, too, isn't she?"
"That's putting it mildly!" said Mr. Williams, a chemistry teacher. "I don't think I'm spreading any wild rumours when I say she's the school tramp." Grisham, Hanson, and Pierce were completely silent while all the other men laughed.
"So she's flirted with you, too?" Fulson asked Leroy. "I didn't think I was the only one."
"What did she do with you?" Leroy asked Fulson after belching.
"Yesterday, she stood by my desk," Fulson began explaining, "and bent over to show me two of her answers to some math questions I gave the class. She held her notebook under her boobs, with her back to the class, so the other girls had no idea what she was doing--I assume this was deliberate. Anyway, while she was showing me her two answers, she also showed me a generous amount of cleavage: no bra--I saw about a millimetre or two of each areola. As she spoke to me in a high-pitched voice, her eyes and mouth were wide open, like those of a dumb blonde: we all know she's a very smart girl, so this ditziness seemed to be affectation, intended to turn me on--it certainly did! As I was saying, with her tits hanging just inches in front of my face, she asked me in that titillatingly ditzy soprano voice, 'Are these two any good?' In a trance, I just stared at them--not her answers, of course--and replied, 'They're both perfect.'" Everyone laughed.
"She's shown off tit like that to me, too," said Mr. Johnson, a biology teacher. "But not with that kind of voice. With me, she giggles and talks in a slutty voice." Hanson could relate to that completely, but he didn't dare say so.
"With me, she talks breathily, like Marilyn Monroe," said Burgess. "But she talks normally among the girls." All the other teachers nodded in agreement.
"Of course!" slurred Williams. "The voices are an act to turn us on. For me, she does the slutty voice, too, and I love it! It's like she can read our minds, and know our fantasies to the minutest detail!" As did the other teachers, Grisham totally agreed, but he timidly kept his thoughts to himself. "I'm telling you guys, she wants to fuck every teacher in our school--the men, anyway. You know what I keep hearing her sing, supposedly to herself? Y'know that new song by...what's the singer's name? She's like the new Madonna, or another Lady Gaga,...Oh, yeah, I remember now: Trampauline. You know her new song?"
"I wanna get gang-banged!" Burgess, Johnson, and Mr. Langella (an art teacher) raunchily sang together while hitting their hands on the tables to the rhythm of the song. Then Williams enthusiastically joined in: "I wanna get gang-banged!" They all laughed.
"I've heard her sing that song, too," said Burgess.
"So have I," said Johnson.
"Same here," said Langella. "I'll bet she'd really like to be gang-banged, and by us. The way she wiggles that beautiful ass of hers as she sings that song, I'm sure she's trying to tell us something." The other three agreed.
"My sister-in-law, a neighbour of one of our teachers, told me she saw a beautiful naked blonde girl, Camilla's build and age, walk out of the teacher's house late last Sunday night," said Fulson. Hanson froze at these words.
"Which teacher?" asked Burgess.
"Not one of us," Fulson lied. Hanson appreciated Fulson's discretion. Before Burgess could inquire further, Fulson told more anecdotes: "Yesterday during our math class, after she flashed her cleavage, I had the girls get in groups to do math problems together. They were standing in their groups, and I walked behind Camilla and gently squeezed her buns. When she looked back at me, with no disapproving look on her face at all, I asked if the girls were having any problems. My hands were still squeezing her ass when she said in that ditzy voice, 'No, sir.' She acted as though I hadn't touched her. After school finished and just about everybody had gone home, I saw Camilla in a nook in the hall by a water fountain. She had changed out of her uniform and into a sexy, skin-tight black outfit. Her back was to me, but she had a compact: she was powdering her face, which was made up like a prostitute. I'll bet she saw me in her mirror as I came up behind her, and this is why: I scooped those beautiful tits of hers in my hands, and wasn't at all shocked; she allowed me to do it!"
"Oh, yeah!" Williams and Johnson growled in unison. The others listened in lecherous fascination, except for Grisham, Hanson, Pierce, and Mr. Phillips, an overweight and rather morose music teacher.
Fulson continued: "As I continued to fondle her tits, she looked back at me with wide-open eyes and a friendly smile: it was as though I was being a perfect gentleman. In that high-pitched, ditzy voice, she said, 'Oh, hi sir!' As we continued talking, as if nothing sexual was going on at all, I got bolder with my groping; I fondled her ass, and even touched her crotch--the most beautiful camel-toe in human history. She totally allowed me to finger her between the legs! She acted as though I was carrying her books for her, or something."
"What a little bad girl," Leroy said.
"Slut," grunted Phillips.
"No, she's a bitch," said Williams, who sat beside Phillips. "'Cause she'd fuck every man here...except you. And I think we all know why." Williams then patted Phillips's round belly.
"Oh, hardy fuckin' har," Phillips growled bitterly. "All she ever says to me is how pissed off she is about how I graded her last test. She says I was unfairly strict. Fuck her."
"Maybe you should," suggested Burgess. "She does you a sexual favour, you bump up her mark. A hump for a bump." The others laughed.
"Anyway, what happened with Camilla, Joe?" Johnson asked Fulson.
"Nothing, unfortunately," Fulson answered. "She said she had to rush off somewhere; in that black outfit of hers, we can safely assume it was to fuck someone else. Speaking of rushing off, we'd better go: it's almost eleven-thirty. On a Tuesday night, I don't think we originally intended to keep drinking this long."
Everyone paid his bill, left the pub, and went home, except for Phillips. Depressed and drunk, he walked down the street and found a bar playing rave music. An all-night rave on a Tuesday night? he wondered incredulously. He was about to walk away when he saw, in the most fortuitous encounter of his whole lonely life, Camilla! She was, predictably, wearing a sexy, tight red dress with large holes on each hip to reveal that she was wearing no panties; similarly, the low back of the dress showed that she wasn't wearing a brassiere, either. Apart from her dress, high heels, and bright makeup, she was nude. Seeing the way her head slowly swayed left and right, and how dazed she looked with her wide-open eyes and mouth, he could easily tell that she was on drugs. Curious and aroused, he went into the almost empty bar.
She saw him. "Mr. Phillips! Hi!" she shouted over the deafeningly loud drum and bass pounding from the speakers. She quickly went over to him and hugged him. "How are you?"
"Oh, okay, I guess," he said. "That's the friendliest you've ever been to me, by a mile."
"Oh, yeah," she said as she chewed gum. "I'm on ecstasy right now. It's 'the love drug': it would make you friends with your worst enemy; I hope you don't mind my being high. Don't tell anybody at school, okay?"
"Don't worry about that," he assured her. "We teachers aren't any moral improvement, that's for sure." They found a table and sat down.
"I'm sorry I got mad at you in music class last Friday. I just don't think my grade was fair."
"Well, maybe I can reconsider it."
"Good; thanks. That makes me feel a lot better; if I can get a better grade in music, it will give me a better chance to get into the university I want to get into this September." Her whole body was vibrating and sparkling with pleasure from the MDMA, on which she was peaking now. "I'm on X because I've been kinda down and lonely. You seem depressed, too. What's wrong?"
"Just lonely, I guess," he said. "Just like you."
"My roommate's out with a new guy she met," she said. Though she had no intention at all of turning him on, she just prated on, propelled by the ecstasy: "I think they're gonna fuck tonight, and she wants to have our apartment all to herself. There's no way in hell I'm sleeping at my mom's home, because I hate that bitch. So I need to find a lover. Bates Massage didn't have any guys I was interested in: I jerked off only fat, ugly guys. Yuck! Luvlee's, the strip-joint I do lap-dances at, is closed again for repairs, because the fuckin' electricity is fucked again, so I can't find any cock there, either. I came here, because nothing else is going to be open this late; but of course, nobody's here. I took half a pill of E to cheer me up, and I'm peaking now, but I still have no one to fu--"
Suddenly Phillips grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard. She opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to slide in, even though his beer breath only augmented how unattractive she found him. Still, she allowed him to kiss her for as long as he wanted to, because she enjoyed making love on general principle. After about twenty seconds of French kissing, he let go.
"Wow," she said. "You're hot for me, sir? I never knew. Even though I'm dressed hot, I didn't think you'd go for it; you've always seemed too uptight for that."
"Sorry," he said, afraid that she'd tell people. "I shouldn't have done that." He got up and was about to leave, but she took his hand and gently led him back to sit with her.
"It's OK. I'm not mad," she said calmly. "It's just sex; don't make a big thing out of it."
"You mean, you want me?" he asked hopefully.
"I wouldn't say that," she said, trying to hide a sneer. "You're not my type, sir. Sorry."
"I know: fat and ugly; yuck!" In a snit, he was about to leave again, but she held his hand and kept him with her.
"Don't worry about your looks, sir. Here's the deal: a hand job is fifty dollars; a blow job, a hundred; fuck my pussy, two hundred; anal, three hundred. You can have me for an hour, OK? Try to give me pleasure--it's in your best interests. The more pleasure you give me, the less you have to pay. If you don't please me at all, though, I'll be frank about it, and you'll have to pay in full. Sorry in advance if that hurts your feelings. Anyway, is it a deal?"
He nodded in agreement, and she touched the bulge in his pants. His erection surprised and impressed her: its size felt just like Grisham's. "Wow," she said. "There's more to you than meets the eye."
In his apartment twenty minutes later, she unzipped his pants and pulled out his phallus, eager to find out how close it really resembled Grisham's. Indeed, it seemed a clone of the penis that had so pleased her the preceding week. He lay on the floor on his back. She quickly got out of her dress and removed her high heels: Phillips stared in awe at her perfect nude body. She got on top of him. Full of expectation, she correctly assumed his phallus would feel exactly like Grisham's when it went inside her. The night was as fortuitous for her as it had been for him. She closed her eyes and imagined she was with Grisham instead of Phillips as she aimed her vagina over the now fully-erect member.
She felt the knob push against her wet vaginal opening. She was now vibrating with ecstasy from two sources: the half pill she'd taken almost an hour earlier, and Phillips's erection. As it slowly slid deeper and deeper inside her, she sighed at ever higher pitches. She felt the same thrill go up her spine and throughout her body as she'd felt with Grisham during their night together. Still not fully over her crush on him, she could easily imagine she was with him again, and she screamed, "Oh! Mr. Grisham! I love you!", as Phillips's phallus went in deep and then out, over and over again, massaging all her vaginal walls from top to bottom.
Though it annoyed him to hear another man's name as he made love with her (and confirmed the gossip he'd heard from Ms. Callahan), he was in an ecstasy of his own, feeling the moistness of her lovely, tight vagina, watching her large, round breasts bounce up and down, and squeezing her soft buttocks: his hands opened her anal cleft wide, and he rubbed his fingers against her anus. He thought, fuck you, Williams, I got lucky with the slut, too!
The mildly psychedelic feelings of the MDMA made it easy for her to believe she was really with Grisham, and the love and affection the drug inspired in her heightened her excitement all the more. Finally, her voice squealing in the whistle register, she came, and messed up his pants. She got off of him, and was on all fours beside him. They both groaned and panted for several minutes.
"So," he began after catching his breath, "that's two hundred bucks?"
"No," she sighed. "That was for free."