Mrs. Jean Evans looked up angrily from her knitting. She placed her knitting needles down carefully on her desk at the front of the classroom and stood up.
"Girls! You're making far too much noise! What is my rule during needlework lessons?"
"We must be able to hear your needles clicking and you must be able to hear the clock ticking," chanted the thirty members of the needlework class.
"That's right," snapped the irate teacher, "and at present I can't hear either because of your noise! Be quiet, or I'll lose my temper!"
The door to the classroom opened just as Jean Evans was finishing her tirade. Olwen Simpson sauntered through on her way to the staff room without a word, but Jean saw the smirk on her face. She glanced up at the clock.
"Damn the bitch!" she thought. "She was always the first into the staff room at break time. She sent her children out into the schoolyard to play a few minutes early every day. But Jean had a plan, which put a smirk on her own face. She'd put a stop to Olwen Simpson's so-obvious efforts to win the affections of John Lewis, the headmaster. She, Jean Evans, was the one and only member of staff that John Lewis would be fucking if she got her way!
"Put your work away quietly girls, and go out to play," she said, sitting down and putting her own knitting into her voluminous handbag. The girls filed out quietly, and Jean quickly made her way to the staff room.
She opened the door and walked into a smog of blue tobacco smoke. She coughed and walked over to the window, which she opened as wide as possible.
"Bloody hell, Jean," grumbled John Lewis, taking the pipe from his mouth to speak. "Are you trying to give me pneumonia? Shut the window, for goodness' sake!"
"I'm sorry, John," replied Jean with a smile. "I don't mind the aroma of your pipe tobacco. It's the stench from those foul cigars that Mrs. Simpson smokes that I can't bear!"
"Oh dear!" said Olwen, her cigar waggling up and down as she spoke. "Someone's in a foul mood. Shouting at her needlework class, ranting over a little cigar smoke. Got your period, have you Jean?"
"Don't be so disgusting," retorted Jean testily. John Lewis laughed and resumed his pipe smoking.
Gradually the staff room filled up as the rest of the staff came in for their afternoon break. Jean sat next to her colleague, Melvin Roberts. He was responsible for taking all the boys in Jean's and his own class for craftwork on a Friday afternoon, whilst Jean taught needlework to all the girls from both classes. Friday afternoons were a favourite for both teachers. Craftwork and needlework required a minimum of actual teaching, so both Jean and Melvin could relax and wait for school to end and the weekend to begin.
The bell to signal the end of break sounded, and everyone got to their feet.
"Here we go. Last lap before the weekend!" said Melvin with a grin.
"Jean, can I see you for a minute please?" called John Lewis. She turned and smiled at him.
"Of course, John," she replied, glaring at Olwen who was going past her and who winked suggestively at her colleague.
He waited until everybody else had left, and the door to the staff rom was firmly shut.
"Are you still on for tomorrow afternoon?" he asked anxiously. "Dorothy has got some charity fund raiser going on in church. I'll be free for a good couple of hours."
Dorothy was John's wife, and she and Jean attended the same church. In fact, Jean was supposed to attend the same charity event as the head master's wife tomorrow afternoon. She made up her mind quickly.
"I can meet you at two o'clock," she said. "I've told Duncan that I'll be in the same church event as Dorothy tomorrow afternoon, so he's arranged to take my nephew and a couple of his friends to the cinema. I'll make some excuse to the ladies on the committee and slip away to meet you."
Duncan was Jean's husband. She was very fond of him, despite the fact that he was unimaginative, pedantic, and basically a rather dull man. Also, he had the smallest cock imaginable, and he tended to suffer from premature ejaculation.
John licked his lips. He grinned at her wolfishly, and reached out and touched one of Jean's small, pert tits. She felt him searching for her nipple and when he found it, he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.
"I'll have these two beauties out on Saturday afternoon," he grinned, and we'll have some fun with them."
Her breath had quickened and deepened, he noted. She needed a bit of stimulation. He squeezed the sensitive nipple hard, and she moaned. They both knew how much she loved and desired pain as foreplay.
"Friday night," he said softly. "That must mean Duncan gets to exert his marital rights. Are you looking forward to getting fucked tonight, Jean?"
He noticed that she winced at his use of the F word. It amused him to be as crude and as foul-mouthed as possible in front of her. She was a prim and proper woman, who just happened to like vigorous, dirty sex. She was prepared to put up with his swearing and his crudeness in exchange for a really good fuck session once every now and again.
John released her nipple, and she started to breath normally again. She blushed as she realised that he was still waiting for an answer to his previous question.
"No, I'm not looking forward to it," she admitted, " but it is my duty to give my husband his conjugal rights. And this new birth control pill means I don't have to worry about falling pregnant."
"From what I've heard, Duncan can't keep it hard long enough to get you knocked up!" grinned the head master.
"Duncan's not well blessed in either the size or stamina category," Jean admitted, "but he's a decent man, and you see to my physical needs. I admit that I am already looking forward to tomorrow's assignation!"
John picked up his pipe from the desk and puffed it into life again. He blew a stream of pungent smoke into the air.
"Looking forward,eh?" he smirked. "Does that mean that tight cunt of yours is nice and wet then? Shall we have a look see?"
"Don't be silly," replied Jean stiffly, although a little voice in her head was telling her to pull her skirt up so that John could see (and possibly smell) the extent of her excitement. "I have a class to get to!"
She stalked off back to her class, hoping that the thought of another hour of knitting would quench the fire between her legs.
At the end of the school day, Jean walked out through the school yard. She was annoyed to see John Lewis and Olwen Simpson walking to the staff car park together. They were deep in conversation, and took no notice of her. Jean carried on walking towards the bus stop, where she would wait for the service bus to take her home. Unlike Olwen, she didn't drive. She didn't smoke either. But she was comforted by the thought that unlike her, Olwen bloody Simpson wasn't meeting John Lewis tomorrow afternoon!
As soon as she got home, Jean changed out if her school clothes. She dressed in an old blouse and a cotton frock and her fluffy bedroom slippers. Before starting preparation for the evening meal, she put on a pinafore to protect her clothes.
When Duncan arrived home, he pecked his wife on the cheek.
"Something smells good," he smiled, settling down in his favourite armchair with his evening newspaper. He read silently for about forty minutes, and then folded his paper neatly and switched on the radio to hear the six o'clock news.
Jean served supper just as the bulletin came to an end. Duncan smiled at her.
"Perfect timing, as usual. What a good little housewife you are!"
Jean blushed. As they ate their supper of cottage pie, carrots and frozen peas, they chatted companionably about school, Duncan's work, the film Duncan was taking the boys to see tomorrow and the church charity event. Jean's adulterous meeting wasn't mentioned.
After supper, Duncan listened to a play on the radio whilst Jean washed up and tidied the kitchen. She brought them both a cup of cocoa which they drank together as they listened to the rest of the radio play. Duncan seemed to enjoy it, but Jean, who hadn't heard the start, was baffled by the plot.
At nine o' clock, Duncan stood up and stretched, giving an exaggerated yawn.
"I'm off to bed," he announced. "Don't be long, please. It is Friday night, in case you'd forgotten!"
Jean smiled at him.
"I'll just wash these cups and the milk saucepan up ," she said, "and I'll be up straightaway. You can warm the bed up by the time I come up!"
Duncan was in bed in his pyjamas when Jean came up. She brought him a glass of water and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and get changed for bed. She put on her nightdress and then her dressing gown. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was satisfied with what she saw. She turned out the light and went into the bedroom.
Duncan had already turned his bedside lamp off. Jean took off her dressing gown and got into her side off the bed and lay on her back.
"Light off, Jean love," he said. "You know I like to do it in the dark!"
Jean switched off her bedside lamp and in the darkness she felt Duncan roll on top of her. He fumbled with her nightdress and she asked if he'd prefer if she took it off.
"No need for that," he replied tugging at the hem. She raised her bum off the bed to help him. Then she felt him fumbling with his pyjamas, and he uttered an "ah" of satisfaction as he managed to get his cock out.
"Sergeant Stiffy reporting for duty," he said with a grin, and Jean dutifully laughed. He said the same thing every Friday night. She opened her legs and waited.
Duncan held his cock in one hand and felt for her cunt with the other. Satisfied that he'd found his target, he thrust himself at her. And missed. His cock banged into the top of her thigh.
"Sorry," he grunted and tried again. More by luck than judgement, he got it inside her.
"That's better!" he muttered, and began a frantic rocking movement. Jean could hardly feel him inside her. Her brain was screaming "Kiss me at least! Play with my boobies! Suck my nipples!" but her mouth stayed shut, her voice silent.
Less than three minutes later, Duncan reached his climax. Grunting with the effort, his cock gave two brief squirts, and he gasped with relief. His cock was already a shrivelled wreck. He rolled off Jean, tucked his tiny manhood back into his pyjama trousers and wished his wife goodnight. Thirty seconds later he began to snore. Jean turned onto her side and tried to get to sleep herself. She was comforted by the thought of some pleasure the following afternoon.
The following morning was no different to any ordinary Saturday. Duncan and Jean stayed in bed until eight o'clock. There was the usual amount of cuddling, and even the occasional brief kiss, but when Jean's hand 'accidentally' touched Duncan's cock he looked at her in amazement.
"What's got into you?" he asked. "I hope you're not turning into one of those sexual maniacs that the newspapers are so full of these days. The Swinging Sixties? I regret the day they scrapped National Service. That's what some of these long haired lay-abouts could do with!"
