I’ve been editing some of my older stories and scanning old photos over the last year; the images, in particular, have brought back many pleasant memories. It has also made me realise that I have jumped around with my true stories and that readers must be confused about how events tie in. So I’ll start this story by quickly putting a few years in order.

In 1980, my first marriage was falling apart, and blaming the breakdown on my running my own building business and working long hours, I decided to change professions and become a schoolteacher. My wife was working, I had some money in a bottom drawer from cash jobs, and we had enough in the bank to cover the mortgage, etc. So although I was going to take a considerable drop in salary, I applied for a position at Christchurch Teachers' Training College. 

It was the best thing I ever did; getting paid to sit around, learn, read, and play sports. So different from working out in the cold, rain and hammering nails all day. But I quickly found that my marriage breakdown had nothing to do with my working long hours. Being at home more just exacerbated all my wife and my problems. 

There are a couple of good sexy stories from my year at Teachers' College that I will try and find the time to write about sometime. But at the end of that year, I graduated with honours. And as my marriage was on the rocks, I applied for teaching positions nationwide and was lucky enough to land a teaching position at Gisborne Boys’ High. I wanted to return to Auckland, but so did every other teacher, it seemed, so it was nigh on impossible to get teaching positions there. Gisborne being halfway between Christchurch and Auckland, seemed a good stepping stone. I went nuts chasing every woman who gave me more than a sideways glance that year. Read my story ‘Out Of The Blue’, which will give you an idea of what I got up to in Gisborne. 

The position at Gisborne Boys replaced a guy who had taken one year off to travel to England. When I found he was definitely returning at the end of the year, I spent a couple of months applying for every teaching job I could find in Auckland and finally landed a job at Hillary College in Otara. It was one of the poorer suburbs in Auckland. A place that very few people wanted to teach, as it often made the news for burglaries and violence. 

I loved teaching at Hillary; the kids were predominantly Maori or Pacific Islanders, with a small smattering of Asian and Pakeha (White) kids. Again, if I ever get around to it, there are some interesting sexual escapades worth writing about from my year teaching there. 

Towards the end of my second year at Hillary College, I started applying for teaching positions again. I was living with my parents on the North Shore, and the hours of travel each day to Otara were getting me down. Also, I had met a wonderful lady I intended to marry and needed to rent a place for us to live. Otara was not a place I wanted to live with my new wife. Luckily I picked up a good teaching job in a school in the eastern suburbs of Auckland, and being one of the more affluent areas, it offered much better accommodation choices.

My new position was again as a technical teacher (Woodwork, Engineering and Technical Drawing), but I also had a third form Science class to teach. I sat with all the guys from the technical department for the first week at morning tea and lunchtime. But I soon tired of the rugby, racing and beer talk and, in the second week, moved to sit by a woman I had met in the science department meetings.

Her name was Dani, and she sat with a group of women, which was much more to my liking, although I should point out that I did not move tables hoping to score. As I knew very well, it is not good to fuck around with workmates. The ladies quickly accepted me and enjoyed having a male at their table to add a different perspective to their conversations. I looked forward to morning tea and lunch after that with the eight regulars who sat together. They were all attractive and intelligent women, and there was always some exciting gossip and scandal to disassemble.

Dani and I became very close over that first year. She helped me prepare lessons appropriate for the science syllabus. Dani dated numerous boyfriends those first couple of years, and our morning discussions often revolved around the plus and minus of her previous night’s partner and how good the sex had been. She was looking for a husband, and finally, in my third year at the school, she latched onto a fellow teacher that had just joined the staff. He was ten years younger than Dani, but they got on well and were married within a year. Also, in that third year, Dani and I became fourth-form Deans and moved through with the same year group until I left teaching six years later. We have remained close friends to this day.

In the first couple of weeks, I learned much about each woman around the table. The average age would have been around thirty-four, With Mrs Adams being the youngest, at twenty-four, and Mrs Chester being fifty. 

Anne (Adams) taught French, was newly married, and had a massive set of jugs on her. I got into trouble on more than one occasion with the other ladies saying things like - you’ll get no sense out of Dave this morning; he’s ogling Anne’s tits again. 

The oldest in the group, Mrs Chester, was a handsome woman who taught English and a class of German. Her first name was Margaret, but whereas the rest of the group were on a first-name basis, no one ever called Mrs Chester by her first name. She was married to an engineer who was seldom at home. He worked in Asia on an airport extension and was usually away for three months. She was British, spoke with a posh accent, and never talked much about herself. But I did know she had two children at Auckland University. When conversations regarding sex came up, which happened frequently, she went quiet and acted modestly. She always projected an image of being the perfect upper-class lady, very prim and proper.

Another older woman was Mrs Barber. She was forty-five, the school career adviser, and taught some history. She was also in a special needs group I was roped into doing in my free periods. We pulled at-risk children from their regular classes and, alongside the school’s counsellor, taught them skills to counter the issues they were having. Four women were in this special needs group, plus the counsellor and I. I was the only male. It was incredibly gratifying attempting to improve kids’ lives, but also very intense and tiring most days. Coping with anger issues and sexual abuse wore you down. 

Mrs Barber was the plainest of the staffroom group and the most conservative, even more so than Mrs Chester. I mentioned the special needs group, as at the end of the year, we all had a teacher-only day at her house. The counsellor had a group session with the five of us, after which we had a lovely lunch and retired to Mrs Barbers’ basement to soak in her spa pool. To everyone’s astonishment, the conservative Mrs Barber stripped naked and climbed into the pool. She had a tremendous set of tits. They hardly sagged at all. The other four women quickly followed suit, meaning I had to drop my gear and join them. No one batted an eyelid. We sat around in the spa pool discussing our year.

Back to the group, Dani always sat next to her best friend, Linda, who taught some science but primarily maths. Linda was the only one of the ladies that gave me hints that she was available. She was tall and thin, and I have to admit, I did think more than once about trying it on with her, but as I said, you don’t play around with your workmates, and I purposefully didn’t give her the slightest hint that I was interested. She was married, but it was not happy, and she seldom discussed her husband.

The prettiest woman in the group was Mrs Henley (Sue). She taught English and was like a Barbie doll, with perfect peroxide blond hair in a bob cut, clothes always immaculate and walked like she was on a catwalk. I know most of the male teachers had the hots for her. Sue and her husband were trying for a baby and not having much luck. Towards the end of my second year, she announced one day that she and her husband had been to get tested and that hubby had a low sperm count.

The group were all full of advice, most of it centring around her having to have a lot more sex. I was incredibly impressed to hear her say that they had been doing it morning and night in her fertile week for over a year and plenty of other times in the month. Mrs Chester stunned me by saying; well, the best solution would be to bonk Dave a few times. He has three kids already, so you know he doesn’t fire blanks. I was saved major embarrassment by Dani snapping back; Dave wouldn’t be much cop, as he’s been snipped already. 

Another lady at our table was Mrs Harrison (Jill), a geography teacher. I quite fancied her, as she had admitted to going absolutely wild when her first marriage had failed and that she had slept with every man she could lay her hands on. She was dating a mad cyclist who rode about three hundred K’s each week. She frequently complained that he was not giving her enough attention and needed a friend with benefits to get the sex she wanted. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately, none of the ladies offered my services. I would have blushed red with embarrassment, as you did when something said is a little too close to the truth.

Finally, there was Mrs Walker-Jones, the school counsellor. She was about forty, the same age as me. She was attractive and had the best tits of all the ladies in the spa pool that day. I was always a little nervous around her, thinking she could suss out all the dirty thoughts I often had when sitting with the group.

Why am I telling you all this? I’m trying to set the scene for the incredible shenanigans in my fourth year of teaching at the school. You won’t believe it, but that’s okay. Like many of the unexpected events I’ve partaken in or been witness to, I hardly believe it happened myself.

At the start of every year, in the second or third week, the third form would be taken away for an inauguration camp once they were settled in. This year it was being held at the Hunua Falls Camp, only an hour’s drive from our school. There were separate dormitories for girls and boys, but the teachers shared a dormitory.

Five ladies from my lunch group (Dani, Linda, Anne Adams, Sue Henley and Mrs Chester) were going, plus another seven staff. There would also be some parents driving in each day to help. 

Over the summer holidays, Dani, Anne, and Linda did a massage course together. On the second night of the camp, they offered free massages for everyone in our dormitory, as they needed the practice. It was after we had the kids locked down. The massages did not happen the first night, as the kids were so excited we didn’t get them to sleep until after midnight.

Of the dozen staff, only two copped out of having a massage, Mrs Chester wouldn’t have a bar of it and also one of the older male teachers who was the Third Form Dean. Everyone else was very keen, and by the end of the night, Dani’s boyfriend and I were confident enough to massage Dani and Linda. And after doing Linda, I got to do Sue Henley (Barbie doll), who wanted seconds. I couldn’t believe my luck. The other guys in the dorm looked green with envy as she came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and only her panties under the towel. Needless to say, I was feeling a bit uncomfortable under my shorts, but no one noticed, and I slept very well after it.

There were seven third-form classes, and during the day, they rotated through all of the activities the camp provided—Archery, Obstacle course, etc. Also, we did hikes with them up to the dams that provided Auckland with water and nature study walks in the bush around the camp, where they had lessons on native trees and insects. There were camp staff helping out with many of the activities, which freed up three teachers for a morning or afternoon off on at least one of the days of our stay.

On our third day of camp, I was rostered with Sue Henley and Mrs Chester to hike one of the groups up to the Dams. I was a little concerned about Mrs Chester, as It was a long hike, four hours round trip, up some steep paths. And I didn’t think she would be fit enough. Also, her posh English upbringing hardly seemed the proper preparation for walking in our rugged bush.

However, my concerns were soon put to bed. She appeared dressed in Khaki shorts, a matching shirt and walking boots that looked well-used. All she was missing was the Safari hat. She confidently marched up the bush track, and all the students took off after her. Sue set off in the middle of the group, with half a dozen boys following her. Not a huge surprise, as she had a marvellous bum, and it had a very sexy swing to it. I took up the rear to help with the stragglers. 

Halfway up the hike, Sue had fallen to the back with me, complaining about her sore legs. So we called a water stop to give her a break. She pushed on without complaint, but I could tell she was struggling, so we made another couple of rest stops before reaching the dam. On the way down, I carried Sue’s pack and had to help her down some of the steep slopes.

Our rest stops had put us behind, and we were late back to camp, arriving just before 1:00 pm. The students had to rush their lunch as their afternoon archery activity was meant to start at 1:00 pm. Fortunately, Mrs Chester, Sue, and I had the afternoon off and could take our time. 

We wandered back to the dormitory to relax after lunch. As soon as we were through the door, Sue collapsed on her bed and asked if I would give her another massage, as her legs and butt were sore from the climb.

“No problem.” I squeaked.

I knew there was nothing sexual in her request, as there had been no hint of anything like that. And also, with Mrs Chester flopped on her bed nearby, there was no hope of impropriety. But I felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing Sue’s magnificent body again.

I wandered away to the bathroom to find the large bottle of cooking oil our three massage girls had brought with them. When I exited the bathroom with the oil, Sue was already on the bed. I should mention that most of the beds were single. There were a couple of bunk beds against the far wall and two double beds. Somehow Sue had gotten one of the double beds. She had wrapped a towel around herself, and just like the night before, I sat beside her and untucked the towel, spreading it out on the bed so as not to get any oil on the bedcovers. The gasp I released was due to her underwear. She was wearing a simple pair of flesh-toned beige panties that were very brief, with a matching beige bra. My trembling fingers struggled to unclasp her bra, and my breathing grew more rapid as she lifted to let me remove it. I gasped again as I caught a glimpse of one of her small pert breasts.

I must admit that the strong sexual urge I felt as I put my hands on her shoulder blades was very unsettling. And I tried to hunch over, so they wouldn’t notice my erection. Sue’s legs, the curve of her hips and her narrow waist had my cock expanding in my shorts. I snuck a look between her legs to see if I could catch the hint of her mound or cameltoe, but she had her legs firmly clenched together.

Mrs Chester came over and sat on the other side of Sue, and leaning in, she stroked Sue’s neck. I had a second take at this, as she had been so adamant the night before that she wanted no part in the massages. It did register that her stroking hands were perhaps a little more sensual than they should have been, but in my naivety, I immediately dismissed this. I moved my hands down Sue’s back, identifying any knots and areas of tenderness.

She twisted around and said, “Although that feels wonderful. It’s my legs and butt that are sore.”

“I know, but it will hurt when I get stuck into your abductors and calves. So I’m just trying to relax you before attacking them. Also, much of your discomfort will come from your lower back, so I’m working my way down there.”

Mrs Chester spoke up. She said she would do Sue’s back and neck, so I should concentrate on her legs. So I moved my hands down to Sue’s legs, and for the next ten minutes or more, I focused on Sue’s calves, ankles and feet while Mrs Chester stroked Sue’s neck and shoulders. Again, I was slightly uneasy with the sensual nature of Mrs Chester’s actions. And when she wet her little pinky and slipped it into Sue’s ear, I tensed, waiting for the explosion, and half expected Sue to halt the massage.

But the reaction was nothing like that. The wet finger in Sue’s ear just forced a small groan of pleasure from her lips. And I watched with fascination as her arse tightened, and she pushed her thighs into the mattress. But maybe, it was just my imagination, that’s what I told myself anyway, and I carried on working the tightness in her calves.

When I moved my hands higher and started on Sue’s abductors, she commented on how much she needed it, “God, my legs and bum are sore. I didn’t realise I was so unfit. I’ll have to get out for more walks.”

I ran my hands up either side of her leg, right up to the crease of her arse, with my thumbs pressed deep into the muscle. It hurt, and she writhed around, but I noticed that her writhing changed as my inside fingers approached her crotch. I made sure I stopped just short of her pronounced camel toe, but I did push my fingers closer and closer to her enticing mound on every stroke.

Mrs Chester mouthed and indicated to me, with a movement of her head, that I should feel Sue up. I shook my head, implying an emphatic no! Bloody hell, the ramifications if I were to overstep the mark. This was long before the age of me-too, and even though we had some pretty risqué conversations in the staff room, there was a line I knew not to cross with the ladies.

Mrs Chester gave me a condescending look and told me that in a private company, I could call her Margo, as that was the name she was known by before she met her husband. She then stunned me with the next words to leave her mouth.

“Let’s get these knickers off, Sue. Dave needs to use oils on your glutes and thighs, and you won’t want oil on those lovely briefs, will you? Lift!”

Sue clamped her legs together and objected, but it was a half-hearted objection. And pulling her hips up from the bed, Margo pushed her hands under the waistband and slid Sue’s sexy bikini-cut briefs down over the curve of her hips. I was surprised Sue did not put up more of a fight. I caught my first proper glimpse of the peach-like cleft between her legs. Fuck! My blood pressure rose above two hundred, and Margo had to notice my erection. After all, I’m not exactly small in that department.

Pouring more oil on my hands, I moved onto her glutes. I dug my thumbs in and ran my hands up and down from the base of her butt into the small of her back. She let out a groan of pleasure at every one of my strokes and looked to be struggling to contain her emotions. There was no denying that she was hunching her hips up and down, pushing her mons into the bed each time my fingers moved down to the base of her butt.

“You little Vixen,” crooned Margo, “You're horny. We need to get you off, my dear.”

And as Sue pushed up onto her elbows to voice a denial, Margo reached under her and cupped a breast. I saw that her nipple had swollen and gone a darker shade of pink.

“Oh my, Mr Hamilton, her nipples are as hard as little glass marbles. I think you need to be massaging more than just her butt.” 

I grabbed a large pillow from the top of the bed, lifted her, and stuffed it underneath Sue’s hips. She didn’t offer any resistance as I lifted her. This elevated her lower torso and gave me a fantastic view of her gaping wet slit. Even at this point, I was loathe to touch her there, but she started humping slowly and deliberately against the pillow, so I bit the bullet and inserted a finger. Again, I fully expected an explosion, but she just let out a hungry-sounding groan and hunched her hips onto my finger.

Margo was sitting on the side of the bed, twisted around and facing me. She grinned at me, reached her other hand under Sue, and began working on her other breast. And surprise, surprise, Sue lifted herself onto her elbows to give Margo access.

I pulled Sue’s legs wider apart, inserted two fingers, and watched as her arse tightened and thrust back harder. Her clit’s timid head was emerging from beneath its protective hood. So I adjusted my kneeled position so I could use the fingers of my other hand to pinch and pull on it. As I increased the pressure of my thrusting fingers, I noticed that as they reappeared, they were wet and glistening in the soft light.

Margo was showing signs of arousal also. She was noticeably flushed, and sweat peppered her top lip. Adjusting her position, she lifted her right leg onto the bed and placed her foot alongside my right knee. When it touched my knee, she rubbed it seductively against me, and I could see her white knickers up the leg of her loose walking shorts.

What is a man to do? I ran a hand up her leg and pulled her knickers to the side. It was fucking awkward. As I struggled not to fall flat on my face, I slid a finger under the elastic and inserted it a little into her warm wet folds.

Unfortunately, as I was trying to work out how to balance and get two fingers properly embedded in Margo, Sue began to cum. She stiffened up and pushed her head into the mattress, trying to silence the carnal sounds that erupted from her mouth. She lifted her arse high above the pillow, and as some impressive spasms wracked her body, I lowered my head and sucked on her clit. She went nuts, screaming out as her orgasm struck. Then she went strangely quiet. So I lifted my head to see what was happening and watched, flabbergasted at the sight of Margo and her leaning forward together, kissing. It was a fucking passionate kiss, one that I would have given my eye teeth to have experienced.

Margo’s hand searched for my wrist, pulled my hand from her shorts, dropped her leg to the floor, and slumped down to lie beside Sue. But as Sue’s breathing slowed and she came to her senses. She broke the kiss, jumped up, grabbed the towel and underwear, and dashed to the bathroom.

Margo also stood, giving me a ‘don’t you say a word’ look. She walked back to her bed.

I returned to my bed also and collapsed. My mind worked overtime, sorting through the enormity of what had happened.

Sue emerged a short time later, came over, and said, “Not a fucking word to anyone. Ever!” Despite the harshness of her words, she didn’t look angry. Quite the opposite, she had a wry grin on her face. She looked secretly delighted with the exquisite finish Margo and I had given her.

The rest of the camp went in a blur. Sue and my new friend Margo acted as if nothing had happened. So I went along with their game and tried to work just as naturally with them. Bloody hard when I kept getting an erection every time I looked at either of them and thought about what we had done.

I was very nervous when I arrived at school the following Monday, and I seriously thought about joining the Tech Teacher men at morning tea. But when I entered the staffroom, Dani called me over to discuss issues about our form group. And when Sue arrived, she just smiled at me, sat in her usual place and participated in all the regular conversations. When Mrs Chester arrived, she came and sat beside me and acted like nothing had happened. It seemed I was the only one that had been apprehensive.

Wednesday was Sports Day. Margo and I were to look after the Long Jump. We had five groups of students to process; Forms three to form seven. We had almost finished by lunchtime and only had about ten seventh-formers after lunch. We talked as the morning progressed, and near lunchtime, waiting for our next group to arrive, I asked Margo why she had not wanted to have a massage at the third-form camp.

Margo looked around to ensure no one was near and said, “I have a past. And I would likely have embarrassed myself if I had gotten my clothes off and let someone touch my body.”

I tried to get her to elaborate, but she replied, “It’s a long story. Certainly not fit for being told out here on the sports field. Maybe I’ll tell you at a later date.” 

Our final group of the morning arrived then. At lunch, I was all keyed up and impatient to hear about Margo’s past. But I bit my tongue, as too many staff sat with us.

We had packed up at the Long Jump just after 1:30 pm, and I suggested we go to my Dean’s office so she could tell me her story.

“Oh, alright,” she exclaimed, “I can see you won’t be satisfied until you know it all.”

And we handed in all our results at the main desk and walked to my office. The Dean’s Office was a good choice; we were unlikely to be disturbed, what with all the kids and teachers being out on the field. It was a comfortable room, as well as our desk and chair; we had a coffee maker and two comfy armchairs for when Dani and I had parents in to discuss their brats.

Once we were settled and had a coffee in our hands, Margo told me to get comfortable, as it was a long story.

She told me she was born and lived in Streatham, London, until she was eighteen. It was a rough neighbourhood, and she had a rough upbringing. She was a tomboy, albeit a very attractive one. She was always up for trying new things or “living life to the fullest”, as she put it. When I pressed her on what she meant by that, she admitted to sleeping around with women and men, gang bangs, bondage, and all sorts of kinky stuff. 

She laughed at the expression on my face when she admitted all this. I just couldn’t believe this prim and proper woman could have ever done these things. But it was very erotic, listening to her admit to all this.

“I was a bit of a slut,” she admitted, “And loved it. I’d slept with dozens of men before I was even twenty.”

I interjected, “I hate the word Slut. I’ve had a lot of mates that would call girls that after they slept with them. They used the word in such a demeaning way and yet were happy to sleep with them. There is no word for a man that carries the same connotations. Men are just ‘Sowing their wild oats’ or being ‘A bit of a lad’.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I loved being a slut. I have no regrets.”

Margo went on to tell me she had become a teacher when she left school. Her father was an engineer and had stayed in Germany after the war as part of the Marshall Plan. He knew German before the war but came home fluent. And her mother spoke French, so she was brought up hearing and speaking both languages.

Her first teaching position was at a local school. But her reputation for being easy got her in trouble. In her third year of teaching, she slept with a senior student. The fact that he was of legal age didn't matter; it caused a massive scandal, and she was asked to resign. The school councillor arranged a job for her to teach English in Germany for one year, intending to get her away from the crowd she had been hanging out with. 

But nothing much changed when she got to Germany. She was lonely and continued her slutty ways. An English guy joined the staff in her second term there, and she fancied him. He was handsome, well-spoken, and came from a much different class of society than her. But when she approached him, he shunned her. Something that had never happened before. She had never met a man that didn’t want to get to know her and bed her.

The guy made it plain that she was a disgrace to her country, dressed like a slut, talked like a slut and from all he had heard in the few days he’d been in Germany, she was a slut. 

Margo said she was devastated. After smouldering at his rejection for a few days, she approached him and asked for his help improving her speech, etc. And over the next six months, they became friends, and he coached her on how to behave and speak in a decent society. He also went shopping with her and insisted she drops the sexy outfits she wore for more conservative but stylish outfits. And at the end of her contract, he helped her apply for a teaching position in England at a well-paying private school in Notting Hill, London.

I asked Margo if they had become lovers.

“No. We did become good friends, but it was never more than that.”

Her new school was in one of the more affluent areas of London. The job came with a small one-bedroom flat next to the school, and she taught there for six years. But, she said, at the weekends and holidays, she reverted to her former slutty ways, as she never managed to hold a boyfriend for more than a few weeks.

“They all wanted to bed me but didn’t want to be seen out anywhere with me,” she stated. “I tried to keep my private life separate from my school life. But by my fourth year at the school, I became aware that several male staff members had heard rumours of my exploits on the weekends. Then one day, one of my teaching colleagues asked me to a function with him.”

She said it was an eye-opener for her. The party was at some hoity-toity couple’s country estate. And there were many well-known celebrities there. She quickly found out that her colleague had only asked her along as eye candy; and because of her reputation. He had some posh bitch waiting there for him, and after introducing her to some of his mates, she never saw him again all evening. But she wasn’t put out, as a well-known TV Presenter was soon chatting her up. They hit it off, and she dated him for a few weeks.

That was just the start of her life as a high society tart. She said she could tell me some tales about well-known celebrities she had dated. She dated pop stars, politicians and aristocracy over the following two years and said I wouldn’t believe some of the stuff that happened.

One night she had her eyes on a particularly eligible soap star. He gave her plenty of attention and offered to take her home. But when they got out to his exotic car, he pared her up with some toffy-nosed idiot called Rupert. The soap star dropped her off at Rupert’s home, and he disappeared into the blue. Rupert took her inside, and they wound up drinking expensive champagne in front of his fire.

She said she didn’t find him attractive but slept with him anyway, after which he had his Chauffeur drop her home. She woke on Sunday morning feeling disgusted with herself, swearing that she needed to change her ways. But just before lunchtime, Rupert knocked on her door; his Rolls parked alongside the curb and asked her to lunch at the Savoy. She was about to tell him to fuck off when he pulled out a black jewellery box and opened it to expose a diamond necklace. Needless to say, she went to lunch with him, and so began an almost year-long affair.

He showered her with gifts and took her to many high-society functions in the following months. She grew to like him but knew it was a friends-with-benefits arrangement, and they had no future. But she did get to keep the many gifts he showered on her. Two of the jewellery pieces were still in her jewellery box. And she mentioned that they were worth a great deal of money. 

One night at a function Rupert had taken her to, she was introduced to her husband, Nigel. That was the last night of her being a loose society tart. 

Nigel was handsome and very conservative. He came from an affluent family of Doctors. She fell in love with him, and after a whirlwind romance, she was introduced to his parents. She was warmly received; they thought she was from a cultured upper-crust family and made it clear from the start that she was an eligible partner for their son.

After the meeting with his parents, she moved in with Nigel. Questions about their getting married began to pop up, and Nigel asked when he was to meet her parents. She bit the bullet and nervously explained her upbringing, and when he said it didn’t matter, she took him home to Streatham to meet them. 

He handled the visit well and said his father had come from humble beginnings and would understand. He wasn’t so sure about his mother, though, but said it didn’t matter as Margo wasn’t marrying his mother. And he proposed to her on the way back to their flat.

She told me Nigel was an Engineer, and six months after they were married, they moved to Turkey, where he was to work on the Bosphorus Bridge project. From there, they moved to Malaysia for two years before coming to New Zealand.

I asked if her husband had ever found out about her shady past.

“I don’t think so. I don’t know how Nigel would take that news. Probably divorce me. Which is why I’ve remained almost celibate for fifteen years and work to keep up the upper-class lady image.”

“What do you mean, almost celibate?”

“Well, he has been working on Engineering projects all our married life. As you know, he’s often away for months at a time. That has been the pattern of our marriage. He’s not a very sexual person, so there’s not a lot of loving even when he’s home.”

“How do you cope with that? Have you ever played around when he’s away?”

“No. I’ve only had one affair in our marriage. That was in Malaysia, with a woman. I don’t trust any man to keep a relationship secret.”

“That makes sense. I saw the way you kissed Sue. It was pretty passionate.”

“Yes, I don’t know what will happen with Sue. She’s pretty screwed up now; she’s confronting the new-found knowledge that she might be bi-sexual.”

“I didn’t think Sue looked screwed up. I’m amazed at how well she handled what happened. She acts like nothing ever happened between us.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. You’re more sensitive than most men, which is why you were accepted so well by all the ladies. But I guess I shouldn’t be; women are far more perceptive than men. Sue can’t look me in the eye. I expect she will eventually overcome her repressed desires and search me out.”

“God, I’d love to watch that.”

“I bet you would. Back In the day, I had a few boyfriends that watched me. Not good for me, though. They didn’t last more than a dozen strokes afterwards.”

I laughed, my mind picturing what she had just described. And at that minute, Dani came into the office and asked what I was laughing so loudly at.

“Nothing, Just telling stories. Have you finished?”

She had finished, and we all walked to the staffroom for drinks and to wind up the day. 

The next day at lunch, Dani asked me if something was happening between Mrs Chester and me, as she thought we had changed since the camp. I vehemently denied that anything had happened between us, which was easy for me to say, as nothing had happened between Mrs Chester and me, apart from a wet finger for a few seconds, and that didn’t count in my books.

However, Margo walked through the door of my Tech Department office on Friday after school. I was startled when I turned and saw her; she had never visited me there before.

“I was wondering if you are coming in to do any prep work tomorrow? I will be in my room assessing some senior assignments and could do with some help.”

I often came in on Saturday mornings to cut up materials and prepare lessons, but I hadn’t intended to go on that particular Saturday. Still, I nodded my head and asked what time.

“I should be in well before morning tea. Come up to my room when you have finished your preparations.”

Saturday morning, I arrived at school at 9:00 am. I spent an hour preparing a design brief for my senior Technical Drawing class. I wandered up the stairs of B-block to Margo’s room when I had finished.

As soon as I entered, I knew I would be getting lucky. Margo had pulled several tables together and laid out her student’s assignments. But her change in appearance hinted at what might be in store.

The ordinarily conservative Mrs Chester had dressed to kill and had let her hair down. She must have dyed it the previous evening, as it was now a rich auburn colour, whereas the day before, it had been a mousy brown with flecks of grey. She wore a white gypsy top that left her shoulders and midriff bare, and the erect nipples visible through the thin fabric told me she wore no bra. My heart leapt and began to race. A short red skirt with red stiletto shoes completed her look.

She held her hand out for me to hold. And as I stretched my hand out, she seized it and pulled me past the blackboard into her office.

As we entered, she murmured, “I thought we might finish what you started on camp last week.”

Nodding my assent, I asked, “Did you come into the school dressed like that?”

She pointed to her desk, where I saw her usual work clothes stacked, “No. This outfit is for your eyes only.”

My heart beat so fast and my breathing so rapid I couldn’t respond. I just meekly followed Margo and let myself be pushed onto the settee at the end of her desk. Standing before me, she lifted her skirt to reveal she wasn’t wearing any knickers. She had a heart-shaped stand of auburn pubic hair above an enticing dark pink slit. She had gone to town and dyed her pubes also.

“No granny bloomers to impede your progress today,” she said, dropping the skirt and lowering herself onto my lap.

Her hand pulled my head to her lips, and she kissed me just as passionately as she had Sue the previous week. Her other hand dropped into my lap to unzip my jeans. Once she had her hand inside my fly and firmly gripped my swelling prick, she forced her tongue into my mouth. I came out of my shocked stupor, pushed her top under her chin, and began to massage her ripe ample breasts.

We clutched and groped at one another for a few minutes, and then she lifted and lowered herself onto my prick. I went rigid and forced my mind to think of anything but sex, scared I would instantly shoot my load and embarrass myself. Slowly I got control and matched her lunging hips with small thrusts. As I began to get concerned about premature ejaculation again, she pulled away and dropped to the floor on hands and knees.

She wiggled her arse at me impatiently as I sat and stared at her beautiful round globes and took in her wet, open gash between them. But I was jerked back to reality by her snarled protest that I hurry up and fuck her. I dropped to my knees, fed Roger into her warm, moist folds, and pounded away like I was twenty again.

All too quickly, I erupted. Luckily my violent ejaculation tipped Margo over the edge, and we both collapsed onto the rug, gasping for breath.

“Fuck, I needed that,” she moaned as she snuggled beside me. “I hope you’re good for more than one. As I’m not close to being finished with you yet.”

I hoped I was also good for another one, but I knew it would take me more than half an hour to recuperate. So I asked, “What brought that on? You told me on Wednesday that you never played around and didn’t trust men to keep their mouths shut.”

“I’ve not slept well since our adventure at camp. I’ve had some erotic dreams and been reminiscing on some of the dirty things I got up to in my slutty past. So good that I have flattened the batteries on my vibrators.”

We lay there talking, and after a while, she sat up and removed her top, which she said was cutting off her circulation. My attention focused on her breasts, and I took note of the long hard nipples that were still swollen and proudly erect. I leaned over and took one in my mouth. 

“Oooh, I love having my nipples sucked. You can bite and pinch them. I like that.” 

So I began to suckle and chew on her nipples until they were fully hard and throbbing. I pulled back and gazed longingly at their abused reddened state. Margo took the opportunity to squirm down my body and take my limp, soggy member into her mouth. I lay back and tried to think of something kinky to get myself had again. Then I realised the kinky woman in front of me would be enough. I reached around her glorious derrière and sank two fingers into her sloppy cunt. Then lay back and watched her breasts swinging in unison with her plunging head motion.

Amazingly, her breasts still had some of the firmness of youth. And as I reached out with my free hand and cupped one of them, Margo’s breath caught, and she swivelled around into a sixty-nine position over my face. I didn’t remove my fingers but twisted my head to the side and caught her clit between my lips.

Margo lit up. She pushed her cunt down onto my face so hard I thought she would do damage to my nose. I was ecstatic when I felt myself hardening, knowing I could last forever if I controlled my excitement. 

She spun around and mounted me when she felt me become fully hard. And as she worked herself up and down on me, I reached up and cupped those magnificent tits again. She was very vocal, and I hoped like hell there was no one in the room next door. She began to mouth kinky shit about what she wanted to do with me. But she didn’t change position. She just ground away, working herself to another climax. And soon, she began yelling at me to fuck her harder before pressing her lips to mine as she came. I had to hang tight as her body violently convulsed through a second orgasm.

I didn’t cum. It all happened far too fast. And when Margo realised, I hadn’t cum and was still hard. She rolled over onto her back, pulled her knees onto her chest, and cried out, “Fuck me hard, spank me, and pinch my nipples. I’ll come more than once if you make it rough.”

Now I’m generally not into mistreating a woman. But my blood was up, so I gave her arse a few good slaps and then kneeled before her. Lifting her arse from the floor and pulling her legs wider apart, I drove into her with some force. She became very animated and yelled for me to slap her tits and pinch her nipples. My excitement grew; her feet were up on my shoulders, and orgasm after orgasm began to wrack her body. It was all too much. Finally, her perverse requests and arousal tipped me over the edge, and I erupted and then collapsed in a heap on top of her.

Eventually, I regained my breath, rolled off and hauled myself onto the settee. Margo rose and sat beside me. I glanced at my watch; it said 12:30 pm. Wow! Time flies. It was nearly two hours since I had stepped into her room.

“I need to go. I said I would be home for lunch.”

I had not even removed my shirt, but reached for my Jeans, hauled them up and made to leave the room.

Margo grinned up from the settee. Her red skirt still scrunched around her waist, “Go on then, love me and leave me. Do I not even get a kiss goodbye?”

Guiltily I turned back and kissed her, and she spoke quietly in my ear, “This has been a one-off. We can’t do this again. I just needed to get that out of my system.” 

I knew what she meant. She had told me of problems she had had back in the day, with guys getting infatuated. One guy she thought of as a one-night stand had left his wife for her and screwed up his marriage.

“I understand and agree with you. As much as I would like to see you every week, we need to cool things.”

I hurried out the classroom door, glancing guiltily from side to side, and drove home. 

Morning tea Monday, I sat next to Dani and listened to all the women complimenting Mrs Chester on her new hair colour. Many of them commented that it made her look younger. When I was teaching science later in the day, Dani took me aside and asked if I was sure nothing had happened between Mrs Chester and me. She said she had noticed our conspiring look as everyone commented on her new hair. I replied that there wasn’t, but it had been due to me that she had dyed it, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

That should have been the end of it. But at the start of November, Mrs Chester announced in the staffroom that she was leaving at the end of term and returning to England. Her husband’s contract in Asia was finishing, and after nineteen years away from home, he wanted to return to England.

A week later, Mrs Chester caught me alone in the Dean’s office and asked if I could get a day off the following weekend, as she wanted to say goodbye. I instantly knew she was after another raunchy encounter, and even though I’d sworn to myself not to mess around again, I found myself nodding and answering, “I’m sure I can. Where will we meet? In your office again?”

“No. My husband has about three more weeks before he finishes, my children are away this weekend, and my nosey neighbours are overseas on holiday. So I want to spend the day with you at my home, you can stay Saturday night and go home Sunday if you wish.

It was common for me to go out with mates fishing on a Saturday or Sunday. But to stay away overnight was much more complex, so I had my mate Don call me that night and ask me out fishing for the day. He didn’t bother to ask me why.

I caught Margo the next day and explained what I had arranged for the Saturday and that I had to leave home at around 6:45 am and be home before 6:00 pm that evening.

The rest of the week dragged, but at 7:00 am on Saturday, I drove up Margo’s drive and parked around the side of a flashy two-storied home.

Margo met me at the door, dressed in a flimsy wrap. I took a double-take when I saw she was wearing nothing under it. She took me straight upstairs to her bedroom, spinning around and asking if I liked what I saw, “It is a lace Peignoir. When I was a little girl, I would see women wearing them over their nightwear when we holidayed in France.”

The vision before me was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. The Peignoir was very sheer, with intricate lace covering all the naughty bits, but it hid little. I stripped faster than I had for years and dragged Margo under the covers. The bed smelled of her - a beautiful aroma of a lustful woman and a faint hint of expensive perfume.

There was nothing fancy in our first fuck, I was on top, and Margo was as keen as I was to get her rocks off. Once we had both orgasmed, she told me she had prepared breakfast, and we wandered downstairs to eat.

The rest of the day was spent exploring new places and positions to fuck in. She had us do it in the pool and the spa pool, both areas she had never fucked. What was wrong with her husband? And we had it off in her husband’s E-Type Jaguar; that was another place she had never tried. She told me her husband was shipping the Jag back to London, so she would remember me whenever they went for a ride. I tried my luck and asked her to sit on the gear knob, having seen that a couple of times in porn movies, but she wouldn’t give that a go.

When we weren’t fucking, we talked. I learned a lot more about her slutty years. She spoke in much detail; I guess she intended to keep me horny all day, and it worked. I couldn’t get enough of her. She showed me two pieces of jewellery Rupert had given her years before. One was the first gift he ever gave her. I was a diamond necklace; the other piece was a sapphire bracelet that she said belonged to Rupert’s grandmother. Each piece was valued at well over one million pounds. 

We retired to her bed around 4:00 pm and dozed off. It was almost 6:00 pm when I awoke to Margo sucking away on my old fella. As soon as she had him hard, I pulled her to the edge of the bed, lifted her legs onto her shoulders and hammered away mercilessly. Remembering that she liked it rough, I leaned forward and took her erect nipple between my teeth and gently bit. I swear, I felt her release a flood of lubricating juices, and she spread her thighs as wide as she could. After all the sex we had had that day, it was hard to believe, but we both erupted in a mind-shattering orgasm.

I rolled onto my back beside her and looked at my watch, “6:30 pm, fuck, I need to get going.”

My clothes were still beside the bed, where I’d left them that morning. As I dressed, Margo slipped into that damned sexy Peignoir again, and I honestly thought about staying a few more hours.

Downstairs, Margo handed me a plastic bag of fish fillets. 

“When did you get these?” I asked.

“Last night. I can’t have anyone suspect you weren’t out fishing today. Can I?”