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.”
