I'm one of the few male teachers at St. Matilda's Academy for Young Ladies, an exclusive and very expensive English private school for girls. I teach an upper year class of seventeen to nearly nineteen year olds. It's a voyeur’s paradise, as all my girls seem to be trying to outdo each other in wearing the thinnest, most boob-clinging school uniform white blouses, the shortest grey pleated skirts and the most sheer black nylons they can get away with. I'm single and just turned thirty, and its a real privilege to be employed at such a place.

The occasion was St. Matilda's “Open Day” when parents of St. Matilda's girls were invited to a reception at the school. As usual it was held in summer, with a big marquee in the school’s grounds, a display of pupils’ work in the school’s magnificent late-medieval hall, and tours of some parts of the school.

I was in the school grounds, mingling with parents, talking about the school’s work and encouraging St. Matilda's benefactors to contribute more. I was also eyeing up St. Matilda's girls in their school uniforms as they carried trays of canapes and drinks among the guests.

I found myself chatting to a woman. Before long I somehow sensed she had specifically sought me out among the other teachers. I’d guessed who she was even before she introduced herself. One of my favourite pupils was a girl called Ruth Farnham. Dark haired so sweet and innocent looking Ruth was nearly nineteen, and in my opinion had the best-filled blouse and the best sheer black nylon-clad legs in the school, usually displayed under the shortest skirt she could get away with. I suspected too that Ruth had a crush on me.

This woman was a bigger and older version of Ruth and as I'd guessed she was Ruth's mother, Mrs. Farnham. She was probably mid to late forties, tall and slim, and looking as elegant and sophisticated as you'd expect a St. Matilda's parent to look. I was a little surprised at her age. I'd met Ruth's father a couple of times. He must have been ten or fifteen years older than his wife. He was also one of St. Matilda's richest benefactors.

Mrs. Farnham had obviously been quite a stunner in her time and she'd kept her looks. Her perfectly-styled dark hair down to just below her pearl earrings was the same colour as Ruth's. Designer sunglasses were perched de rigeur on her brow. She was wearing a loose, flouncy-skirted button up the front cream-coloured summer frock ending just below her knees. Her bare lightly tanned legs were as shapely as Ruth's, but her white high heels were causing her some difficulty on St. Matilda’s spacious lawns. That dress made it obvious that she had also kept a good figure. The low-cut neckline of revealed a pearl necklace hanging in a V pointing toward the cleavage and a bulge of breasts that looked as big, firm and appetising as her daughter's.

We got chatting. Mrs. Farnham told me she had herself been at St. Matilda's thirty or so years before. As we were talking she snuggled a bit closer to me, so close in fact that the bulge of her breasts lightly brushed my arm.

“I wonder,” she began, giving me a mischievous smile and her brown eyes meeting mine as she took a sip from her glass of Prosecco, “If I could see my old classroom again. Would you? That would be so kind of you. And don't feel you have to call me Mrs. Farnham. My name's Sally. Sally Farnham.”

The classrooms weren't part of the official school tour, but when a woman like that nudges me with her tits I will give in to almost any request from her. Sally looked the kind of woman who knew that very well herself.

So off the two of us went through St. Matilda's wood-panelled corridors and up the stairs to the old classrooms. They hadn't changed much since Sally's days. There was the same wood panelling carved with girls' names from a century and more before, the same arched windows high enough in the walls to prevent any distracting views out, or in. The blackboard had, of course, been replaced with modern screens, but the same old wooden desks were still there, now wired for IT.

“Just as I remember it!” Sally said gleefully. “I used to sit just here!”

She sat herself at one of the desks, leaned back, and slowly crossed her legs. In a movement identical to her daughter's in class, the skirt of her frock rode up her leg revealing an impressive display of smooth, lightly tanned bare thigh. I felt that familiar stirring in my ever-hungry penis. Then it started for real. She looked at me mischievously before she spoke.

“My daughter tells me you're always looking at her legs in class and trying to see up her skirt.”

I had a heart-pounding moment of panic at knowing I'd been discovered, and I felt my face turn red. But Sally continued.

“Are you interested in big girls’ legs too?”

She slowly and smoothly pulled her dress up far enough to show me almost the whole length of her legs, and a glimpse of white panties. I was shocked, but I think the look on my face told her I was interested in big girls’ legs, and certainly in hers. I was startled at hearing her talk like that and at her display, but things were certainly getting interesting. I decided I wasn’t going to miss this and I kept quiet while her soft, sophisticated voice continued.

“I guess its just like in my day,” she said, grinning at me. “Men teachers lust for young girls, especially in skirts as short as my daughter wears. There was a male teacher here, Mr. Graham. He was always looking at my legs. He was about your age at that time.”

I’d known old Mr. Graham. He’d retired just after I'd started at St. Matilda's. I'd known him long enough for him to show me his collection of old photographs of St. Matilda's girls of his time in nude poses sprawling over school desks.

“We all had a crush on him. I used to accidentally on purpose show him my knickers. One thing I did was to drop my pen.” She took a dainty steel pen from her little clutch bag and dropped it. It made a soft click as it hit the tile floor. “Then I would crouch down to pick it up, like this.”

She slid out of her desk and crouched down with her knees together in a demure lady-like manner, as expected of St. Matilda's young ladies. Then, making it look totally accidental she spread her legs wide. My eyes involuntarily went down to enjoy the perfect full frontal upskirt view of white cotton panties bulging over her sex mound.

Every male teacher at St. Matilda's knew the school regulation for girls' underwear: “white, opaque and modest.” That exactly described the knickers I was seeing between Sally's spread thighs. More than that, I realised she was actually wearing a pair of her daughter's white schoolgirl knickers. Then as she crouched with her legs wide she reached down between her legs and momentarily pulled her white knickers aside. I caught a brief glimpse of dark pubic hair.

“I always wanted to do that for Mr. Graham but never dared in class. I was so naughty!”

She gave me a lewd grin before she stood. I could feel my heart pounding. With her eyes she directed my gaze to the teacher's desk at the front of the classroom.

“He took lots of nude pictures of me sprawling over that desk. Do you want to see one? I was my daughter’s age, eighteen nearly nineteen.”

Nothing about her was surprising me any more. From her bag she took a faded, worn photograph. It showed a girl who could have been Ruth's double, even with the same hair style. She was perched nude on the teacher's front desk doing the splits with her legs so wide they were pointing in opposite directions. She was leaning back on her hands so her breasts swung up. Her dark-furred young pussy and her young breasts were just how as I masturbated thinking of Ruth I'd imagined her cunt and her breasts would look. Sally laughed.

“There was something about Mr. Graham. We girls would do anything for him. To give him his due he would never touch a girl under eighteen.” She laughed. “I could hardly wait!”

“Oh my!” she gasped, looking around the classroom. “It brings it all back.” She smiled as if relishing an old memory. “Do you know the bushes by the big tree near the tennis courts? I gave my first hand job there.”

“To Mr. Graham?” I asked. I could believe it of him. Sally laughed.

“Oh no! I did him too but he wasn't my first. It was the groundsman's lad. I was eighteen and he was about twenty. I was walking back from the tennis courts in my tennis dress. He was working on the grounds. He'd been watching me play.”

Watching St. Matilda's girls playing tennis was one of my favourite pastimes too. I have no interest in tennis as a sport but I'm very interested in watching short white tennis skirts flying high up girls’ bare thighs and showing their little white knickers.

“I felt his eyes following me all the way, and I felt like all my clothes were evaporating. He was in jeans and his chest was bare. Oooooh! I still remember. We all fancied him. I couldn't resist. I asked him if he wanted a hand job.”

“We went into those bushes. I let him pull my knickers down and feel my bottom and cunt. He got his cock right out. I'd never seen a boy's cock before. It was so hairy and stiff and so big I could hardly wrap my hand round it. My friend Abbie had shown me how to do it for a boy, using a bottle. I tugged and stroked him till he came. His hands were all over me. I couldn't believe how much he spurted. He took ages to come.” She laughed again. “Not like some silly boys later who came the moment I touched their cocks. I asked him if I'd done it right. He told me I was just perfect.” Another laugh. “I got a reputation for giving good hand jobs.”

Hearing all that from this elegant, sophisticated woman my penis felt like an iron bar, well in need of a hand job, or anything else this might all lead to. Guessing how this seemed to be going I decided it would be wise to lock the classroom door with my pass key.

As I returned to her I saw she'd stepped her high heel-clad foot up unto the seat of her desk.

“I had a fantasy,” she said, “about a teacher putting his hand up my skirt, down inside my knickers and feeling my cunt.”

I didn't tell her that as I lay in my lonely bed at night with my straining hard penis in my methodically pumping hand I had exactly the same fantasy about her daughter, among even more lecherous thoughts.

She smoothly pulled her dress high above her white panties and nudged her hips toward me. Her panties were just sheer enough to show the dark outline of her cunt hair through the thin white cotton, and strands of her dark pubic hair showed where the hems crossed her groins.

“Touch me!” she said softly, but now with excitement in her voice.

My hand was instantly on the bulge of her mound. She gasped, trembled and spread her legs wider as I massaged her pussy, and ran my fingertips along the line of her vagina lips I could feel through the thin cloth. Hooking my finger over the top hem I pulled the front of her panties down. Her vagina lips were pulled open by her spread legs, and her slit was surrounded by a thick but neat bush of almost black pubic hair. Then my hand was cupped over her naked mound with my fingers ruffling her soft moist cunt hair and stroking her juice-wetted vagina lips. She squirmed with sexual pleasure and nuzzled her pussy against my exploring hand.

She let me play with her for a few moments then, breathing hard and with her face flushed, she stepped back from me and let the skirt of her frock fall back down to her knees.

“Do you want to know another naughty thing I did?” she asked, rhetorically. By then nothing about this former schoolgirl sex kitten was going to surprise me. “I took my knickers off and stuffed them into a teacher’s briefcase when he wasn't looking. I can guess what he did with my knickers.”

Smiling lecherously she formed her thumb and forefinger into a ring and bobbed her hand up and down at the angle and length of a man's erect penis, leaving me in no doubt Sally knew what men did with girls' knickers.

After what I’d been hearing I could well believe it of her. In fact just a few weeks before I'd found a pair of white schoolgirl knickers stuffed into my bag, together with a little note reading ‘cum over my knickers'. A strand of dark pubic hair was caught in the stitching. It was the same colour as Ruth's. Later that night with the knickers in one hand, my penis in the other and Ruth in kinky nude poses occupying my lustful mind I'd done just what Sally had guessed. Like mother, like daughter, I thought.

“Do you want to play with my knickers?” It was another rhetorical question.

Without waiting for any reply she slid her hands under her frock and in a smooth movement slipped her panties off and gave them to me. They were still warm from her body. Running the soft white cotton through my hand I saw there was a slight yellow stain just where the wearer's vagina would be, and I caught a delicious aroma of a mixture of Sally's perfume and her juices. My cock felt ready to explode. I was more than ready for her next request.

“Go on, show me your cock. You're up hard for me aren't you?” Her hand went down and stroked the hard bulging ridge of my erection.

I’d long wanted to expose my naked cock to one of my girls or to a strange woman. A moment later my trousers and briefs were down round my thighs, I'd pulled my shirt back, I'd spread my legs as far as my briefs stretched round my thighs would allow and I'd rammed my hips towards her. I was pushing out eight inches of iron-hard muscle bending up from my hairy balls to its big purple-grey erection- and lust- swollen head.

“Mmmmm!” she purred, and I grunted, as her hand explored my straining manhood and ruffled my pubic hair. “Nice cock! Have you fucked lots of lucky girls with it?”

I didn't answer as I was fighting not to cum in her hand. I fought even harder when she opened my shirt and slipped it off my back, then still fondling my cock and balls she started to kiss me down my front starting with my nipples and slowly down over my belly. She crouched in front of me to kiss and lick my penis shaft and head while she tickled me between my legs. She took my penis head into her mouth, massaged it and licked it with her tongue and sucked it. I could hardly take it. I was whimpering with sheer pleasure, running my fingers through her hair and my hips were involuntarily trying to force my cock down her throat. Thankfully she stopped before I came.

“Did you like that?” she asked, a silly question!

My panting, my quivering, straining almost vertical penis with its veins standing out and its big deep pink head almost glowing with arousal would have given her all the answer she needed. Still squatting in front of me and just lightly fingering my sex kit she looked up at me and grinned.

“I sucked Mr. Graham off just where you're standing. I still remember him shoving his cock so hard down my throat when he came that he almost pushed me over. He called me a slut and a whore. I loved it.”

Then she stood. Her eyes met mine, and her look told me what she wanted even without her asking. I unbuttoned her frock slowly, patiently enjoying each button and the curves of her body beneath all the way down. I slipped her frock off her back. She had nothing on underneath. I'd been right about her figure. A girl half her age would envy a body like hers.

Nude but for her high heels she leaned back on her hands against her old desk, arching her back so her big breasts swung up and out, and spreading her legs wide. My hand began on the bush of dark pubic hair between her legs, reached under her to stroke her between her legs, then moved to explore its way up her smooth body to enjoy her breasts. Then my tongue and lips began on her nipples. Like she'd done for me I kissed her down her front till my tongue was ruffling her cunt bush and she was nuzzling her pussy against my lips. From up above me as I tongue-pleasured her pussy I heard her soft cries of excitement and arousal.

I was still kissing her cunt when she turned and bent over her desk. Her breasts swung pendulously above the desk top and she thrust her bottom up.

“I was such a naughty girl. I should have had my bottom smacked. Does teacher want to smack a naughty girl's bottom?” There was excitement in her voice.

She wiggled her bottom at me. Her bum cheeks were gleaming smoothly under the light streaming in through the high arched windows. I delivered a little slap to a bum cheek.

“Ooooh! Harder!”

I slapped her a little harder.

“Harder! Harder!”

I got the message. I delivered six slaps that set her big round buttocks quivering and left a red mark on her smooth flesh. I was about to deliver another when she looked at me over her shoulder and spread her legs wide. Her eyes were hungry and she was quivering with excitement.

“Fuck me,” she said softly but her voice was almost a grunt. “My husband isn't interested any more. It's been so long. I want young hard cock.”

My young hard cock certainly wanted her!

I got behind her, close enough that my hungry cock head brushed her bum cheek. I like my women hot and aroused so I took my time. My hand started on her thighs, caressing her, stroking the insides of her thighs, slowly working my way towards her pussy. It was exactly what she wanted.

“Oh yes!” she gasped and she trembled with excitement.

She strained her legs wider for my hand. My hand moved to her bottom, then slowly stroked, caressed and tickled her down the valley between her smooth round cheeks till my fingertips were stroking her arse, then that sensitive spot between her arse and her vagina, then her juice-sodden arousal-gorged vagina lips themselves. Her breasts swung and her bottom quivered as she squirmed with sexual pleasure.

Caressing her thighs and bottom with one hand, with my other I smoothly and rhythmically stroked her vagina lips the way that brings a woman on. My hand was wet with her juice before her excited gasps and squeals told me she was rising. I moved my fingers to the tight little peak of her clitoris, and circled and criss-crossed it with my fingertips. She took longer to climax than younger women I’d finger-pleasured, but I wasn't complaining!

Suddenly she gasped, I felt her body tense, then with a shriek she rammed her hips to thrust her pussy hard against my hand. I held my hand cupped over her mound as she juddered and cried out in the pulses of her orgasm. Finally with a long deep sigh she relaxed.

“Oh that was wonderful!” she sighed.

I let my penis head poking her thigh remind her it was my turn now. She braced herself ready for my thrusts. Her high heels got her pussy slit to just the right height. I held her hips and savoured the feel of sliding my cock head along the valley of her bum crack. Then I moved in for the thrill. I manoeuvred my cock head till I was poking her labia, then I slid full length into her vagina till my hairy belly was against her smooth cheeks and my pubic hair was in her crack. I felt her tighten her muscles against my hard shaft. She knew what a man likes.

I would never have fucked any of my St. Matilda's girls. I’m not into unprotected sex at first meeting, but I guessed Sally was too old and too sensible to get pregnant. Nor was she an STD-riddled backstreet whore. She was a thoroughly respectable married woman.

I gripped her hips and began the delicious thrusting. I soon showed her I wasn’t one of those silly boys who jerks his load the moment his cock touches a girl. She was tighter round my penis than I'd expected an older woman, a mother, to be. I guessed she’d had sex enough times to know how to squeeze her pussy round a man’s cock. I took my time. She was hot, aroused and sensitive from the orgasm my fingers had given her, and she climaxed again as I was shagging her, but less violently than the first time. I held her as she cried out and quivered.

Then I took myself through, patiently until the pleasure began to rise, then frantically in my rising orgasm. In my involuntary orgasm thrust the moment before my cock jerked and I filled her with spurting semen, I pushed her across the desk as I rammed my penis hard into her. I stayed in her for a minute, simply enjoying her naked body against me. As I stepped back from her my swinging penis head smeared her bum cheeks with semen. She stayed bent over the desk for a long time, enjoying her afterglow and with my semen trickling down from her cheeks and down her legs.

She stood, then used her white cotton panties to wipe my excess semen off her body.

“Keep my knickers,” she said, tossing them to me before she started to dress. “I’ve got a spare pair in my bag.”

Her smile told me she knew exactly what I would do with them.

Fully dressed and with Sally looking as elegant as before, she gave me a kiss on my cheek before we left the classroom behind us and headed back to the marquee. Ruth was still there with her tray of drinks. Her mother took a glass of prosecco, downed it in one gulp then took another glass.

“Did you enjoy seeing your old classroom, mum?” Ruth asked.

Her mother smiled back at her.

“Oh yes! It brought back lots of wonderful memories.”

“Thank you so much.” Sally said, turning to me. “You were so kind. I really enjoyed that trip down memory lane.”

Then after an exchange of looks and suppressed grins between mother and daughter that spoke silent volumes, and with a twirl of her hips that swung her frock round her legs, Mrs. Farnham strolled away into the crowd of guests.