Faculty Play Ch. 01bysticky_cherry_syrup©
Marianne bounced up to the teacher's desk, all blonde ponytails and cheerleader smile. "Have a great summer, Miss Feloni," she gushed, squeezing enormous tits under a tight white blouse. "I'm really going to miss you. You're my favorite!"
Therese smiled faintly as Marianne and the other girls filed out of the room. Finally, summer had arrived. The end of her first year at Hyacinth Academy for Young Ladies. As much as Therese hated to admit it, she was ready for a long, relaxing summer off. Only a few more days of grading and sorting records remained, and those promised to go fairly smoothly.
Except for her contract. She had waited all spring for the headmistress to call her in for a review, but so far it hadn't happened. And without a contract, Therese had no guarantee of a job for next year. Without a job in the fall, there was no way she could afford to travel to Europe this summer as she had planned. What was worse, it meant returning to teaching public school in Boston, something she dreaded worse than death. She'd had three years of public school teaching after college, and getting the job at Hyacinth had been a blessing. Free room and board on top of a great salary made working here something to hold on to.
But employment at the liberal girl's school had its down side, too. The first year, she'd heard, was the hardest. Not unlike most schools, Hyacinth had its cliques. There was the older faculty who had been there since its opening in the 1970s; this elite circle of the headmistress and a few others kept watchful eyes on the younger, newer faculty members. Therese was aware of another circle, the favored few who were allowed to socialize with the inner circle. It was to this group that the best sleeping quarters, benefits and assignments went, and Therese longed for those kinds of luxuries.
Leaving her classroom for perhaps the last time, Therese reluctantly walked down the staircase to the foyer and outside to the expansive courtyard. The four buildings flanking the tree-lined courtyard resembled those of any old New England campus, but they were hardly forty years old and in prime condition. Everything at Hyacinth was top-notch, from the air conditioned rooms to the gourmet coffees served in the faculty lounge. Therese slowly crossed the courtyard, now full of students and parents as the girls prepared to leave for the summer. They were good girls for the most part; teaching was a dream here. No drugs, no gang fights in the hall. She sighed and continued on to her own building, the one set aside for single faculty members. The first floor belonged to the men, the second through fourth to the women. It never ceased to amaze Therese that the school employed six unmarried male faculty members. But that was the kind of trust the parents had in the school with a stellar reputation.
Her own bedroom was on the fourth floor; one of the setbacks of being a newbie. She immediately logged on to the school website, hoping to find an email from the headmistress. But the only one there was from Allison Brown, a fellow faculty member. For weeks now Allison had been suggesting they meet to discuss, in Allison's words, "something you need to know about the faculty play." When pressed, Allison was reluctant to talk about it.
The end-of-the-year faculty play wasn't exactly a secret. Started decades ago as a way of letting off steam, the faculty play had a reputation for being raunchy, ribald, and over the top. A few faculty members had even resigned over it on moral grounds. In Therese's mind, she couldn't imagine anything being bad enough to quit her job over. As long as it wasn't illegal, who was she, or anyone else, to judge?
Logging off the computer, Therese slowly unbuttoned her starched white blouse and ran a hand under the elastic of her 34B bra. Her nipples felt tender; she'd pinched them mercilessly as she'd masturbated the night before. Slipping off her skirt, she sighed and tossed it at the end of her bed. Her slender legs were toned and shapely, evidence that she had grown up taking ballet lessons. With an air of resignation, she lay down on the bed. At twenty-five she was starting to feel as though life were passing her by. Rolling onto her side, she curled into a fetal position and closed her eyes. Her love life was nonexistent. She'd dated in college and even had a few lovers, but no one had been special enough to take seriously. Since then, the only men she'd met in education were either gay or married. But there were plenty of women, and many of them were more than just a little interested in introducing her to life on the other side of the jungle. Therese had never crossed that line; she liked men and everything about them...the sound of their deep voices, the smell of their testosterone-filled bodies, and, most of all, the meat between their legs. One the other hand, she was horny as hell. Her fantasies during masturbation were becoming increasingly centered on lesbian action. She still wanted a thick cock to suck on but, oh, how she also longed to see a pair of soft lips moving over her clit.
A soft rap on her door brought Therese out of her fantasy. She pulled on a light robe and cracked the door just enough to see Allison Brown on the other side.
"Oh, hey," Allison said, as though she was surprised Therese was there. "I...I thought maybe you were meeting with Dr. Sloane."
Dr. Hillary Sloane was the school's headmistress. "Why would you think that?" Therese asked, stepping aside to let Allison in.
"Because she's reviewing today," Allison said as Therese shut the door.
Therese sat down on the bed with a thud. "Well, I guess that means I'm not getting renewed," she said fatalistically.
Allison sat down in the chair across from her. A little older than Therese, Allison was finishing her second year of teaching at Hyacinth. She possessed the glowing, athletic, blonde Anglo-Saxon beauty that Therese could only dream of. Small and dark, of Italian ancestry, Therese felt all the cards stacked against her. Who was she kidding? She just didn't fit the white-bread Hyacinth mold.
Allison studied her carefully. "Well, not necessarily."
Therese glanced up. "What do you mean?"
"How badly do you want to stay here?" Allison asked.
"Um, as badly as one can," Therese answered, thinking it to be a hypothetical question.
Allison leaned towards her as though to share a secret. "Then you need to go see Dr. Peterson."
"The theatre teacher? Why?"
"Because he's casting the faculty play."
"What difference will that make?'
Allison stared at her thoughtfully. Then, in a hushed tone, she continued, "Therese, what I'm about to tell you is a secret. The faculty play is more than just a raunchy little play. They do things. I mean, really do it. And anything goes. Dr. Sloane and Dr. Peterson are in charge. Some of the older faculty get into it too. Then there's a bunch of younger members who participate. Sometimes if you're cast, you get nothing more than a few lines. But sometimes you have a part where you actually get down and dirty."
"And they do all this on the stage, in front of the other faculty members?"
"It's been going on for forty years and no one has stopped it. People have quit over it. A few have even gone to the newspapers. But really, nobody gives a shit what a bunch of teachers do at the end of the year for fun. The real question is, are you game for that kind of action?"
"Did you?" Therese asked, glancing up and down Allison's long, slender frame.
Allison nodded. "I sure did. I still had student loans to pay off. And I want to go to graduate school. Call me a whore, but I did everything they told me to do."
"And what did that entail?" Therese asked.
Allison shook her head. "No. I'm not telling. It's too humiliating."
Allison didn't need to tell her. Therese could fill in the blanks for herself. If both Dr. Sloane and Dr. Peterson were involved...it meant the action would get pretty diverse. The thought of being involved with something like that was beyond anything Therese had ever imagined, even in her wildest fantasies. She lay back on her bed, squeezing her pillow under her head.
"I don't know," she sighed. "I'm not exactly that kind of material. I doubt if Dr. Peterson would even take me seriously."
Allison chortled. "Hey, it's not as though there are other faculty members lined up to take the lead."
"The lead?" Therese asked, sitting up with renewed interest. "I thought you said Sloane and Peterson were in charge."
"They're in charge but they aren't the lead. The story...whatever Peterson has written for this year's play...revolves around a single character. That's the lead."
Therese bit her lip. She liked the idea of being in the lead role, something that had eluded her throughout her high school drama performances. Suddenly the faculty play was taking on new appeal.
"I'll think about it," Therese said, then sent Allison off. As soon as her colleague left, Therese rummaged through her closet to find the sexiest dress she owned. It was red chiffon, with spaghetti straps and a hemline just above her knees. Without a bra her small breasts looked even smaller but she was determined to go braless. From the back of her closet she found strappy red heels she hadn't worn in years. She brushed her short, straight black hair until it shown, spread red lipstick over her pale lips, and stepped back from the mirror. Not exactly the hottest babe around, she consented. For an instant she thought of giving it up. But so much was at stake. Her job. Her summer. Europe.
Therese started out of her room, then stopped. One more thing. If she were going to do this, she was going to do it all the way. Lifting the hem of her dress, she pulled off her panties and tossed them in the corner. Now she was ready, psychologically, at least, for whatever was ahead for her.
She found Dr. Peterson in the theatre office, busy at his computer keyboard. Lost in his work, the sixty-year-old teacher barely gave her a glance as she tapped on the glass panel of the door. He nodded indiscernibly for her to come in. Despite her obvious and inappropriate attire, he was quite immune to her appearance. He was openly gay and everyone knew it.
"What's up?" he asked absently, continuing to type as she took a chair across from him.
Therese decided to make this quick and, hopefully, not too terribly painful. "I'm here about the faculty play," she said, trying to sound casual about it. "I want to try out for the lead."
He laughed without stopping his typing. "Really?" he said sardonically. "Is that so?"
"I know what it entails, Dr. Peterson."
"Oh, so someone has filled you in, is that it? Well, honey, it takes more than just a willingness to participate. You've got to be enthusiastic."
"I'd love to show you how enthusiastic I can be," Therese said huskily, "if you swung that way."
"I assure you, my dear, I can bat righty as well as lefty."
He abruptly stopped typing and turned away from his monitor, looking her up and down as though seeing her for the first time. Without a word he walked to his office door, locked it, and pulled down a shade over the glass panel. Then he slowly twisted closed the wooden slats on his office window, observing out loud the number of parents still roaming the campus. After returning to his chair he took off his bifocals and carefully folded them before setting them beside his monitor. Finally, turning to Therese again, he said simply, "Come here. Sit on my lap."
Therese obliged. She nestled down into the paunchy professor's lap, her arms around his fleshy neck. He wasn't exactly handsome anymore, but he had been once and the lines on his face gave him a naughty, playful appearance, like a very bad Santa Claus. Therese smiled into his bright blue eyes. He barely smiled back, and instead snaked a hand up the hem of her dress. When his fingertips brushed her bare bush, he gasped a little, eyes flaring open.
"Nice start," he murmured.
Therese opened her legs to his probing fingers. She was more surprised than he at the silky wetness that emerged from her vagina. She hadn't realized that she was so turned on. He played with her for another minute, smiling at this unexpected interruption to his work, then picked up her tiny frame and set her on the edge of his desk.
"Tell me your name again," he said as he repositioned her ass on the edge of the desk.
"Therese. Therese Feloni."
"Well, Miss Feloni, you have a very nice pink pussy. Very nice. Except that if you want to be in the play, you'll have to shave. All of it. Is that a problem?"
"No problem at all," she replied coyly.
He stood up to zip down his pants, then stepped towards her. "Reach in here, honey."
Therese put out her hand and reached past his open zipper. His cock was soft. She stroked it several times, wondering if he still had the ability to get it up or if he was just not attracted to her in the least.
"Keep it up," he said reassuringly. "The beast will rise soon enough."
Therese smiled at his pet name for his tool and kept pressing her small hand against the crotch of his boxers. He stepped closer and pushed her back a little against his desk so he could look at her bottom.
His fingers ran around the periphery of her anus, making Therese gasp in surprise and delight. "You have a tight little rosebud down here," he observed. "Are you a virgin?"
"In the ass I am," she replied, still stroking him. He was starting to stiffen up, and the size of his dick was promising.
"You may want to get a dildo to stretch that out a little," he said, a smile on his dry lips. "I wouldn't want my leading lady passing out from pain in the middle of a scene."
Therese's eyes widened with apprehension, but secretly she was thrilled. There were so many sexual adventures she'd avoided out of fear. Being coaxed into confronting her inhibitions might actually work in her favor.
The meat between his legs had hardened up nicely. Lifting his shirt tails and pushing down his boxers, his cock sprang forward, a good seven inches of veiny thickness. Therese gasped at the burst of fiery desire deep in her vagina. She hadn't been fucked in a couple of years, and the fact that Dr. Peterson was older than her father presented no problem to her at all. She reached up to lead him in but he took a step back to first slide a ribbed and lubricated condom over his shaft.
"I've been wrapping my wiener long before safe sex became popular. And the practice has served me well."
With that he presented his head at the entrance of her vagina. He was looking down into her big dark eyes and Therese had no idea what he was thinking. Maybe he was wishing she were a small Italian male. But she wasn't, and right now she wanted to feel his dick inside her aching pussy.
Therese lifted her hips against him. "Come on," she said huskily, rotating her hips impatiently against his wrapped head. "Stick it in me. Fuck me."
A smile tugged on his lips and he thrust inside of her, turning quickly to stroking her hot pussy with expert precision. She lifted her feet to rest her ankles on his shoulders and managed to lay back on his desk.
"Oh yeah," Therese moaned, closing her eyes and meeting his thrusts enthusiastically. "Oh, man, you know how to fuck a woman. Oh shit, that's better than anything I got in college."
"Relax, my dear," he said calmly. "We will be here for quite a while."
For what seemed an eternity, she bit her lip to hold her tongue. But beneath her struggling reserve, her pussy was on fire. He was stroking her in just the right spot. She met his thrusts each and every time, circling her hips, pressing her clit against his pubes. She could feel his balls slapping her in the ass and, at the thought of him butt fucking her, Therese cried out and jerked her hips against him.
"Fuck me, baby," she gasped, bucking widely against his lower abdomen as the first orgasm seized her with an intensity she had never felt. "Fuck my pussy. Fuck it harder. Oh, oh, oh!"
He glanced down at the juice sloshing out of her pussy with each of his thrusts. "Very nice," he said more to himself than her. "You ejaculate a lot. It's pouring off the desk and onto the floor."
Therese stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, God, you so made me come, Dr. Peterson," she said breathlessly.
"Yes, my dear, I know. I felt it."
"You are an amazing fuck," she went on, imperceptibly lifting her hips to his because she was exhausted. "I would love to fuck you again. Any time you want."
He chuckled softly. "Thank you. But let's finish up here before we start making future plans."
He pulled out of her suddenly and turned her around. "Sit on me," he said as he took his chair.
Therese eased down onto his stiff shaft, her face turned towards his desk. It was only then that she became aware of the glass panel in the door. Good thing he'd remembered to pull down the shade. She put her hands against the desk and rose up, then lowered again, finding a rhythm that he seemed to appreciate. She'd never fucked in this position before. It afforded her a glimpse around his office which was rather distracting. There were certificates on the walls and a couple of trophies and posters from past performances. Therese closed her eyes, enjoying the leisurely fucking now that her cunt was satisfied. Mmmmm, it felt good, the way his hands held her ass, the way his fingers would occasionally stroke her anus.
She wished he would touch her tits. Slipping first one strap down and then the other, Therese sat topless on top of him, her small breasts heaving slightly at the pleasant sensation that coursed through her. She lifted a hand to her right nipple, grasping it between her thumb and middle finger to rub it roughly with her index finger. It was still sensitive and she winced at the subtle pain. Then she turned her attention to the other nipple. Her areolas were large for her breasts and very dark. Her nipples were long and brown, like erasers. She remembered one boy in college telling her that her nipples were fabulous. Turning to Dr. Peterson, she asked shyly, "Will you play with my tits for a minute?"
He sat up and reached around to squeeze her nipples between his big hands. His shift in position changed the dynamics of their fucking. Therese was forced forward a little. Her clit was resting right against his balls, which were wedged under him on the chair. As her clit rubbed his sac, and he twisted and pinched her tits, the fire inside her pussy rekindled and flared. Therese held the edge of the desk, her body skyrocketing towards Nirvana. Although not as wild as the first time, her body movements were just as intense, lifting her almost completely off his dick, then slowly, lavishly, lowering her pussy all the way back down, until the rim of his condom was buried in her. Each time she finished the stroke she jiggled her clit against his balls, and the squeezing and rubbing drove him over the top.
He pushed her face down onto the desk, drilling down into her as he held her legs like a wheelbarrow. His breath was heavy, his movements jerky as he pounded her. Without leverage she couldn't meet his thrusts, but it didn't matter. His dick was right over her G-spot. For three minutes he pounded her there, sending her into an orgasm that made her body spasm over and over and over again. Sweat drenched her dress; he was sweating so hard as well that his hands kept slipping, and he would grab her more roughly and frantically than before, holding onto her dress, her hair...anything that he could get his fingers around. At last his cock erupted and semen shot into the rubber receptacle, surrounding his dick and almost exploding out. He quickly pulled out of her and slapped his meat against her ass a couple of times. His spunk gurgled around his spent penis, and he unceremoniously peeled off the condom and tossed it into the trash can.