Secondary Education

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Babes

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a sequel to “Misadventures of Babysitting.” It starts right where the first story ended, and this story is told by Val’s point-of-view, as she joins the fun.

All of the individuals in this story are 18 years old or older.

ooOoo

I don’t mind my job at the reception desk of the resort hotel, but when my supervisor floated the idea that I might be able to leave early, due to the low number of occupied rooms, I jumped at the chance. I was pulling up in front of our small house before midnight.

As I climb out of my car I see the lights are on in the living room — apparently Lynn made it home from her babysitting job. I also see an unfamiliar car across the street, parked a few houses down. I don’t normally notice things like that — especially in the dark — but we have limited parking on our street and I get a little annoyed when visitors’ cars take up space. I send a glare at the non-descript compact car before going up to my front door.

I dig in my purse for my keys, but I don’t even need to put them in the lock. As soon as I place my hand on the doorknob it spins freely in my grasp. My annoyance grows. I open the door, ready to read Lynn the riot act, but the living room is empty.

Figuring she’s either in her room or the bathroom, I call out. “Damn it Lynn, you left the door unlocked! And whose car is that across the street?”

There’s a pause, then I hear her voice come from her bedroom. “Val? Come into my room, I’ll explain everything.”

I grin to myself. Rick. He probably got a new car, or borrowed a buddy’s. Well, good for her. I toss my purse onto the counter, then amble to Lynn’s room. The door is partially open and the light is on. I push the door open all the way, and the thick, musky smell hits me immediately.

Sweat. Semen. Sex.

The first thing I notice is Lynn, lying nude on top of man. All I can really see is her backside, but she’s not wearing anything, not even socks. The second thing I notice is that the man she is lying on top of is not Rick.

It’s fucking Mr. Finney.

I can’t help it, I stare. My hand is still resting on the door, and I am staring at my naked roommate lying on top of an equally naked Mr. Finney.

Maybe two weeks ago I had stopped by Lynn’s mom’s house. I’d needed a zipper fixed on a dress, and Lynn’s mom is a seamstress. When I came over to pick up the dress, Mr. Finney had been mowing the lawn at his tenant’s place a few houses down.

Mowing with his shirt off.

Mrs. Caslin had been showing off her impeccable repair work on my dress when she’d realized I wasn’t watching, and was instead gazing out the kitchen window. She’d leaned over to see what I was looking at, and then had chuckled knowingly. “Ah. Joe Finney. He’s quite a dish, isn’t he?” Then she’d sighed, “If only I was fifteen years younger. . . “

I’d turned in confusion. “But he’s not that much younger than you, is he?” Lynn’s mom had been pretty young when Lynn was born, and she wasn’t quite forty yet.

“Oh, no, I’m only about five years older than him. But he’s got a type. He likes younger women.”

As I stare at naked Lynn and dishy Mr. Finney, the phrase “younger women” echoes in my head.

No shit.

Lynn has rolled over to look back at me. Her breasts, now exposed, are shiny with sweat. Or something else. I try to not let the large mounds distract me, and instead focus on Lynn’s face.

“Val. You know Joe.”

“Joe” gives me a mock salute. “Valerie Bridges. It’s been a while.”

I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a squeak. For when Lynn rolled over, she rolled mostly off of Mr. Finney, and I can now see . . . all of him.

I’d seen his naked torso when he was mowing the lawn. I could only imagine what the rest of him looked like. I don’t have to imagine anymore. His cock is sagging, obviously at the tail end of an erection, but it is still plump and long bursa escort enough to admire. It is also still wet with cum, and I suddenly realize I must have come in right after they’d done the deed. Like within five minutes.

“Lynn.” My voice sounds weird, and I clear my throat, starting again. “Lynn, I have to talk to you.”

Lynn shrugs, sitting up. She rises off the bed and reaches for a sheet; Mr. Finney, lying on top of the sheets, grins wickedly at her and attempts to pull the sheets out of her reach. I watch with a kind of disbelief at the easy playfulness.

Lynn finally wrestles a sheet out from under Mr. Finney, and wraps it around herself. She pads to the doorway, and just as we turn to leave the room Mr. Finney calls, “Hurry back, girls.”

What the fuck?

I pull Lynn into the living room, and am about to sit on the couch when my eyes touch on the clothes scattered on the floor. Lynn’s shirt and bra. A shirt that had to be Mr. Finney’s. I reach down and pick up his shirt, then hold it out to Lynn, incredulous.

“What the hell happened here?”

Lynn sits down on the couch, looking up at me. “Oh come on, Val, don’t play dumb. You were the one who told me to wear the black lace bra.”

“As a joke! I didn’t — how would I think — my God, Lynn!” I sit down as well, fairly dropping onto the couch. “What happened? How did it happen?”

She shakes her head with a small smile. “I don’t know. Everything was normal, until he drove me home. He made a pass at me in the car, but I didn’t do anything. So he just dropped me off.” Her smile widens. “But I guess he thought he’d try again, because he was back in five minutes, came knocking on the door. Said his car broke down, and his cell phone had died, and could he use mine.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think it was really your cell phone he was looking to use.”

Lynn laughs, and I can tell from her flushed face and heady smile that she is smitten.

And part of me doesn’t blame her. I hadn’t had Mr. Finney for history, but he had also monitored a study hall, and sometimes had gotten a detention detail. That was where I had come across him in middle school — more the detention side of it than the study hall. And I, like the majority of his female students, had been wholly aware of his boyish good looks and arresting smile.

I wasn’t blind.

“I hope you used a condom,” I tell Lynn.

Her face flushes more, and this time I can tell it’s from embarrassment. “I don’t have any in my room.”

“I do! You know where I keep them!”

“There wasn’t time. . .”

I shake my head in exasperation. “I thought I taught you better than that,” I mutter.

“Oh, screw you, Val.” Lynn stands up, and looks down at me in irritation. “It’s Mr. Finney! It’s not like he’s some guy I picked up in a bar. He’s a teacher for Christ’s sake!”

“Yeah, a teacher with a wandering dick!” When Lynn scoffs, I persist. “He’s married, and he’s here fucking you — how do you know you’re the only one, other than his wife? How do you know he doesn’t do this all the time?”

A voice speaks from the far end of the room. “I don’t. I don’t even do it with my wife.” Mr. Finney is standing at the entrance to Lynn’s room, clad in somewhat wrinkled boxers. “She’s frozen me out. She’s too busy with Lyle Parker.”

I gape at him in spite of myself. “The vice principal? Your wife is having an affair with the vice principal?”

He smiles sadly, then looks at Lynn. “Why do you think she sent me to the store? Although I don’t think she really cared where I went. As long as it took me a while to come home.”

Lynn immediately goes to him, to lift her arms and embrace him. Mr. Finney hugs her back, and the embrace is intimate without being sexual — until Lynn’s sheet starts to slip. Neither of them tries to stop it; soon Lynn is again naked. Joe’s hands creep lower, stealing down to Lynn’s ass, squeezing and caressing — and then he bursa escort bayan shoves a finger into her asshole.

It’s like I’m not even there. Lynn gives a little yip, as his finger goes in so deep he lifts her ass up into the air, and she has to stand on her tip toes.

My mouth drops open. Mr. Finney, looking over Lynn’s head at me, grins widely. His light-colored eyes bore right into mine.

“Would you care to join us?” he asks me. He withdraws his finger from Lynn’s ass (she falls forward a bit into his chest) and then beckons to me with that same finger.

I gawk at the two of them, at half-naked Joe Finney cuddling my naked roommate. I try to figure out just what the hell is going on.

“She’s got toys,” Lynn says softly. “Like a whole drawer full.”

Mr. Finney’s grin reaches all the way up to his eyes. “Does she now?”

“I also have condoms. I’m not doing anything to you without a condom.”

Apparently I’ve decided I’m joining in.

ooOoo

When I exit my room with a small reusable shopping bag, Mr. Finney and Lynn are waiting on the couch. I guess I must have taken longer than I thought, because they had begun to entertain themselves in my absence. They’re kissing passionately, their bodies pressed against each other, his hands grasping at her breasts. I stop and watch again, flabbergasted.

Aware of my presence, the two come apart, but it’s somewhat grudgingly. Then Mr. Finney reaches for the bag in my hands. I release it with some trepidation.

Both Mr. Finney and Lynn lean over the bag. Lynn pulls out my “realistic” dildo, pantomimes measuring it against Mr. Finney, then puts it back in the bag. Mr. Finney pulls out my favorite wireless wand, and switches it on. As he increases the power, his hand wavers slightly with the vibrations. “Nice,” he whistles.

The metal butt plug is inspected next. And the little bullet vibrator, which I also like to use in my ass.

My rabbit. My corded Magic Wand. The tubes of lube and warming gel.

Mr. Finney’s smile grows with each item he examines. Finally he pulls out the package of condoms, then shakes his head sorrowfully.

“Sorry, Val, but they’re too small.”

And then he lowers his boxers, to prove his point. And I’ll be damned if he wasn’t telling the truth. Enough time has passed since Mr. Finney and Lynn did — whatever they did. Mr. Finney’s cock is no longer anywhere near sagging. I suddenly forget my old middle school teacher is exposing himself in my living room.

He’s just a guy.

Just a hard-bodied guy with a huge dick.

Lynn is on her knees (when did that happen?) in front of him, her hands lightly caressing his balls. Her breasts brush against Mr. Finney’s legs as she lowers her head and runs a tongue across the head of his penis, licking off the pre-cum. Mr. Finney give a low groan that slowly grows in volume. But then he gives Lynn a little push away.

“No, I can do this. I want you two to play. I want to watch.”

Lynn leans back, then glances at me. Her mouth quirks up.

“Little hard to play when you have all those clothes on, Val.”

It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I mean, I hadn’t thought it would happen like this, but. . .

Any port in an orgy.

ooOoo

Mr. Finney starts to direct. He watches me strip, his eyes never leaving my body. I try to act like it’s not unusual to be standing bare-assed in my living room. Next he has Lynn plug in my corded wand. As she finds the nearest outlet to insert the plug into, I am amazed at her graceful movements, her obvious comfort in her nakedness.

When I look back at Mr. Finney he again beckons to me. I see he is holding out the lubed butt plug. “Come here and bend over,” he says, and I do so without hesitation. His hands split my ass cheeks, and I feel the sudden pressure and pleasure of the cold plug being shoved in. “Oh, damn,” I whisper.

“Grab that little bullet. Stick escort bursa it in your pussy.”

I go to the bag, waddling slightly, and pull out the bullet. Pressing the button and holding it so it reaches the maximum vibrations, I begin to rub my lips and my clit with the little vibe. I’m already wet and slippery down there, and the toy is difficult to hold on to. I finally push it inside of me and close my legs against it, trembling with the shuddering shake of the toy. I do this sometimes in bed, and have fallen asleep once or twice with the bullet inside of my pussy. When I wake up the batteries are dead.

I barely realize that while I have been occupied, Lynn has started to play with my wand. She is seated on the floor, her legs widely parted, and she has the vibrating head of the wand pressed hard against her slit. Her head is tipped back and her eyes are closed, her mouth in an “O”. She seems to be on the edge of an orgasm. And she looks damn sexy.

Since I am a little older than Lynn, and have had more partners, I had always thought that it was my responsibility to train her up. I had considered her a sexual novice. She and Rick had both been virgins when they started sleeping together, after all.

But it appears she has completed the necessary training, and has even put in some extra credit.

Meanwhile, Mr. Finney is stroking his cock, almost automatically. He is watching us, not really paying too much attention to his growing erection. I am paying attention to it, though.

He was right. The condoms I had were way too small.

“Lynn.” Mr. Finney speaks, interrupting Lynn’s fun. His voice is tight and hoarse. “Give Val the wand. You get out the dildo. And I want you to sit on it, like how you rode me.”

Lynn immediately stops her masturbating, and hands me the wand, still vibrating. I reach to take the bullet from between my legs, but Mr. Finney stops me. “No — leave it in.”

I have to sit as well. When I do the butt plug goes a little further inside, and I gasp in shocked pleasure. Once I am situated and am sure the little bullet won’t slip out of me, I take the wand and place it between my legs. I rub the vibrating head over my hairy pussy, down near my ass, around in circles, back and forth. I bring the wand up to my breasts, going over my already erect nipples.

Mr. Finney is still jerking off. A little faster now, and his breathing has also quickened. Lynn has stuck the dildo partially inside her, and then has sat on the floor so that she can bounce on it and use gravity to shove the dildo in further.

We are the sex toys. Lynn and I. We are Mr. Finney’s sex toys.

Mr. Finney is in the middle of the couch, and Lynn and I are on the floor, on either side of him. And as the three of us continue masturbating, I realize I am thoroughly enjoying this. In some perverted way this is fucking erotic. The fact that Lynn and I, doing what we are doing, can get Mr. Finney off, that we could maybe make him cum with just our actions and bodies, while not actually having sex with him. . . It’s powerful. Lynn and I are satisfying ourselves, and that’s all Mr. Finney wants.

And apparently that’s all that he needs. I’m still edging with the wand, Lynn is still riding the dildo, when Mr. Finney suddenly moans loudly and then his fully erect cock begins to spurt. His jizz shoots out randomly as he pants and grunts. Lynn crawls over to him awkwardly, with the dildo still stuck inside of her. Then she lowers her head to suck at Mr. Finney’s exploding cock, while he murmurs her name.

When did my roommate become such a freak?

Although, I should talk — sitting on the floor with a butt plug in my ass, a bullet vibe in my pussy, and a Magic Wand massaging my clit. Sweating and breathing fast as I grow close to climax.

I guess I’m a little bit of a freak too.

Lynn is draped over Mr. Finney, her face now buried in his muscled chest. He gazes over her head at me, sees how am near orgasm, and again his eyes bore into my soul.

“How goes it, Val?”

My voice is a breathless whisper. “Good,” I say lamely. “Good, Mr. Finney.”

“Call me Joe,” he says.

END

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