Charlottesville High School Ch 01

This is the first of what I expect to be several installments about the goings-on at Charlottesville High School.

As always, all story characters are 18 years of age or older.

* * * *

Brent's parents went out of town. He threw a party. He invited a bunch of his friends; Cindy, his sister, invited a bunch of hers. It was a little wild, but I've seen 'em wilder. The house would be intact when his parents returned.

The music was going good, some kids were dancing. I was talking to some of my soccer buddies, including Brent, when Cindy approached. Long-legged Cindy was on the basketball team; long-legged Cindy was a fox.

"I see Linda's not here. Is it true you two broke up?"

"Yeah, she started seeing some college guy. Why do you want to know?"

"Nina wanted to know."

Barry, the least couth among us (which is saying a lot), said, "I thought Nina only did football players, and you."

"As to jocks, Barry, she non-discriminatory as to sport, but insists they be smart and big-dicked, so sorry, oh for two, you're out. As to me, that's a rumor I can neither confirm nor deny."

Cindy grabbed her brother's hand, said, "Dance with me," and they headed for the middle of the floor.

Barry said, "You gonna go for it?"

Nina wasn't the prettiest girl in our high school, but she was pretty. About five feet tall, small breasted and rail thin, her hair, a bit frizzy and shoulder length, was a fiery impossible-not-to-notice red, her face freckled, and her eyes, which shone with intelligence, emerald green. She knew how to present herself. She favored a hippie look, but her tops were always tight, proudly displaying her small breasts, and she wore granny glasses, the better to focus your attention on those eyes.

Despite scattered rumors to the contrary, Nina wasn't promiscuous. Brent was my best friend and Cindy was Nina's; they reported that the number of her conquests was relatively small, but that she slept with whom she wanted to and didn't like to be told what to do. If you went to a party with her there was a chance she'd leave with someone else, but she didn't mind if you did also. And the word was that if the itch moved her, months after you became an ex you might get a phone call in the middle of the night.

As to the Cindy rumors, Brent had confirmed they were accurate, occasional, but accurate. Until today I actually kept that secret to myself.

So the question, whether I'd go for it, was really was I ready for the roller coaster. It was a legitimate question and a legitimate concern, but I was eighteen years old, set to begin my senior year in high school, and you just knew Nina was going to be fun and unconventional in bed. My answer was, and the answer of every other guy in the room would have been, "Fuck yes."

I looked over to Nina, she was dancing with a dude I knew. Nice guy. I let them finish, then asked her to dance. We danced awhile, then headed upstairs. Brent had told me a third floor bedroom was available.

* * * *

Nina and I entered our final year in high school as a couple. I pretended not to know about her occasional infidelities. I do not know whether she knew Linda - who complained that her college boy friend was a mediocrity between the sheets - visited me every once in awhile.

* * * *

The main subject of conversation among the guys the first day back at Charlottesville High School was Natalie Bettis, the new math teacher. She was reserved and professional, wore her soft blonde hair up, no make-up, flat shoes, a conservative pants suit, and black glasses. But try as she might, nothing could hide the fact that she was gorgeous. Hourglass figure: big breasts (they had to be "D" cups), slim waist, wide hips; five and half feet tall, pale skin, light, almost crystal, blue eyes, with an unmistakable southern drawl and a high pitched voice that got squeaky when she was excited.

It was her first teaching job and she was brimming with enthusiasm. She started a math club. Lots of guys joined. Nina, who had finished fifth in the state-wide mathematics competition the year before, was elected president. In organizing the club they spent a lot of time together and Nina reported that Ms. Bettis was as sweet and innocent as she seemed to be, although sometimes, "You'd get a hint something was buried under the surface." The first few times she said it I asked her what that meant, but Nina would only say, "We'll see." After awhile I stopped asking.

A month into the school year Ms. Bettis proposed that the Math Club have a party at the up-scale apartment complex where she lived; we could use the pool. All agreed. Then she went to the administration for permission. Jessica Harris, the assistant principal, saw no problem if properly supervised, but decided to kick it upstairs to Principal Strickland. He was none too happy; recent scandals being what they were, teachers and students cavorting around a pool seemed a bad idea. Nonetheless, in light of Ms. Bettis' enthusiasm, the fact that she had already mentioned it to her students, and, it is hard not to believe, the good looks of the two women sitting in his office, he gave in, but imposed some strict rules: if alcohol showed up it ended, it ended promptly at 8:30 in any case, and no one could use Natalie's apartment.

"I also want three supervisors there at all times."

"I could ask Sandy." Ms. Bettis said. A friendship had already formed between Ms. Bettis and Sandy Wright, a third year sociology teacher who was going through a divorce.

Nodding his approval, Principal Strickland considered Joe Johnson, the gym teacher, for a little added discipline, but hesitated; the last thing he needed to do was expose that lech to all that teen-aged flesh in bathing suits.

Ms. Harris saw his hesitation. She had a vested interest, her son was in the Math Club. "I'll do it."

An image began to form in Principal Strickland's mind, Natalie Bettis, Sandy Wright, and Jessica Harris, all lovely, all in bathing suits. Maybe he should veto it after all, but Jessica was a step ahead of him, "Of course, we'll all need to dress appropriately and no swimming with the young-un's." And so the deal was done.

* * * *

I went as Nina's date; the turn-out was good. Ms. Bettis was well-liked and I am sure more than one guy was hoping to catch her in a bikini. In that they were disappointed. It was clear that Ms. Bettis was wearing a bikini - you could see the string tied around the back of her neck - but was covered by a long heavy loose-fitting throughly opaque red North Carolina State University tee-shirt that hung to her knees.

Around 7:45 P.M. Nina pulled me aside.

"I need a favor. I've got to talk to Ms. Bettis in private. Ms. Harris is talking to her son and his girlfriend, but Ms. Wright is alone. Go talk to her, make sure her back is turned."

"What's going on?"

"I need to get into Ms. Bettis' apartment," and then, in a tone that made clear it was a lie, added, "I'm gonna tell her I'm having female problems."

I went over to Ms. Wright. We were soon joined by Ralph and Vivian. I had known Ralph for years; Vivian had transferred to the school from Montana for the start of the school year. If not for Ms. Bettis' breasts, I suspect Vivian's would have been the number-one-guy-topic-of-discussion the first day back at school. I saw Nina approach Ms. Bettis; they talked in hushed tones and Ms. Bettis fished something from her purse and slipped it to Nina. Nina wandered off, carrying her bag, returning twenty minutes later.

* * * *

The party ended promptly at 8:30. Nina and I hung around, helped clean-up, scraped the grills and hauled trash to the dumpster. After Ms. Bettis thanked us Nina stood and watched as she headed for her apartment.

"I'd love to see her topless; I wonder if they're as nice as I imagine."

I wasn't shocked. Nina could be a bit raunchy, had acknowledged her same-sex inclinations, and regularly commented on Ms. Bettis' looks; she knew I knew about her and Cindy. Sometimes she'd tease me about it, ask if I was man enough for a threesome, say maybe someday she'd talk Cindy into it, but it never happened. After the first few times I figured she was just trying to get a rise out of me and refused to bite. But now I said, "Yeah, me too."

"Well, maybe we can. I checked out her apartment; it was interesting. Drive around the block a few times, then pull back in here."

As I did Nina revealed her plan. As first I didn't take her seriously, then I did and saw a kaleidoscope of things that could go wrong, but the truth was that I was as excited about it as she. It would be the wildest experience of my life.

We parked the car, pretended to search for something around the pool, then walked to Ms. Bettis' apartment. Nina knocked on the door. We heard footsteps, a head blocked the light in the peephole, and, in her distinct Southern accent, Ms. Bettis said, "Who is it?"

"It's Nina and Richard. I lost an earring. We looked around the pool but couldn't find it. I may have dropped it in your apartment. May we come in and look?"

Still wearing her long tee-shirt, her hair still up, Ms. Bettis opened the door. The living room looked like that of a teacher her first year out of college: a little messy, long overstuffed couch, matching chair, two inexpensive end tables with lamps, computer in the corner, a cheap bookcase, some plants, and a throw rug. Nina headed for the bathroom while I chatted with Ms. Bettis, apologizing for our intrusion. I also considered bolting out the door, but as I studied Ms. Bettis's sky blue eyes, flawless skin, round face, sweet thick lips, and air of innocence, well, it all seemed worth it.

Nina returned, fixing an earring in place.

Ms. Bettis said, "I want to thank you for helping out tonight but please, remember, don't tell anyone you were in here."

Nina said nothing. Ms. Bettis, who'd expected us to agree and leave, looked confused, as if trying to figure out what she was missing.

"Ms. Bettis, what would happen if we told our parents, and the school, about why we were in here, what you made us do, what really happened?"

Too late to turn back now.

"Nina, what do you mean? I didn't force you to stay and clean up."

Nina, her arm slipping around my waist, said, "What if they found out you made us put on a little sex-show, then joined in?"

"I don't, what?'

"Yes, exactly, you said you'd put a negative letter in my file. It wouldn't keep me out of most universities, but it would keep me out of the very best where you knew I wanted to go."

Stuttering, in a voice a mixture of panic and fear, she said, "I couldn't do that, didn't do that, never said that."

Well, here goes nothing. I said, "You couldn't do that? When you said you could we believed you. You mean it was a lie?"

As if we didn't understand Ms. Bettis said, "But I didn't make you do anything."

Nina looked at me, I nodded, and Nina, in the voice of someone reliving a harrowing painful experience, tears welling in her eyes, said, "Mr. Strickland, she told us to start touching each other. When we did she watched, it was so scary."

Fuck, she was so good even I started to believe her.

I moved behind Nina, slid my hand under her tee-shirt, which she was wearing over her one-piece bathing suit, cupped her breasts. Nina turned her head and we kissed, our lips and tongues moving slowly and deliberately, making sure Ms. Bettis knew exactly what was happening. Nina moved her hand between us and rubbed my crotch. We turned to stare at Ms. Bettis, waiting for her reaction.

She took a deep breath and tried to sound strong, but you could hear the fear in her voice. Imploring more then demanding, she held her hands up, palms out, and said, "Stop this now, please, and leave. No one will believe you."

"Really?" Nina said. "You weren't supposed to let a student in your apartment, but I can describe it in great detail. Heck, I can even tell them about your bedroom, what birth control pill you take, some of the intimate things in your drawers. And, y'know, there may be some personal items of mine stashed around here in places you'll never think of. How are you going to explain having my panties in your apartment?"

My turn. "So you see, they'll believe us when I say Mr. Strickland, she told me to take off Nina's tee-shirt, that she wanted to see more."

Taking hold of the hem of Nina's shirt, I pulled it over her head and tossed it on Ms. Bettis' sofa. Nina slid the straps off her shoulders, pulled the top down, exposed her chest, and reached up and squeezed her breasts. Ms. Bettis, covering her mouth and chin with her hands, stepped backwards. "Please stop."

"But maybe we missed something, maybe they'll wonder who to believe, but at worst Ms. Bettis, it's our word against yours and we have no reason to lie, no motive for revenge, heck, Nina's your best and favorite student."

I rolled Nina's nipples between my fingers.

"Just the accusation will end your career."

Ms. Bettis fell back on her couch. "None of this happened. Why are you doing this? What do you want?"

I let go of Nina's breasts and she stepped forward and sat next to Ms. Bettis, took hold of one of her hands, and in a comforting voice, like a parent talking to a child, said, "Very good Ms. Bettis, that's the right question. What do we want?"

Ms. Bettis looked at Nina, confusion evident on her face.

"You see, maybe it didn't happen, but it's going to. If you play along, cooperate, no one will ever know, it will just be between us three, our secret. But if you don't, then we'll say it did. That you forced us to be your sex-toys for an evening, maybe two. About how Richard and I talked about it, decided to stand up for ourselves, to keep you from doing it again, or maybe we'll just tell the biggest gossip in school and let the word spread like wildfire."

Ms. Bettis leaned back, crossed her arms on her chest, and looked at us. For the first time she was not simply reacting in disbelief or incomprehension; she understood we meant what we said; she was processing the threat. I sat on her other side.

"And then Mr. Strickland, she took off her tee-shirt."

I took hold of the bottom of her shirt. She locked her arms in place on her chest, preventing any motion.

I had a moment of doubt, afraid that Ms. Bettis call our bluff. Nina did not. She took hold of Ms. Bettis's arms and in a voice of absolute certitude said, "The tee-shirt Ms. Bettis."

Ms. Bettis looked at Nina, swallowed, then allowed Nina to lift her arms. I pulled the tee-shirt over her head, pulled her arms back behind her, then stopped, bunching the fabric around her elbows and wrists. She sat frozen, her eyes wide, her mind racing, but unable to devise a response.

Nina was looking at Ms. Bettis' chest. The black bikini top was small, tit-flesh spilled out the tops and sides. Ms. Bettis may not have been as conservative as I imagined.

"Then Mr. Strickland, she told me to kiss her."

I brought my mouth to hers and kissed her; she sat tight-lipped. I licked her lips, kissed her cheek, kissed down her neck, my lips nibbling on her flesh. Turning her face towards Nina, I kissed my way up to her ear, tugged on an earlobe with my lips. I explored the turns and crevices of her ear with the tip of my tongue. A slight sigh escaped her lips.

I whispered into her ear, "Then Ms. Bettis told Nina to undo her bikini and play with her tits."

"Please no."

Nina reached behind Ms. Bettis neck and toyed with the tie holding her bikini in place, saying, "Now now Ms. Bettis, don't lie, y'know you said it." .

In a tone more seductive than commanding I said, "Say it."

Ms. Bettis, in a voice between a breath and a whisper, said, "Nina, undo my bikini, play with my breasts."

Nina pulled the tie free, releasing the full weight of those oversized breasts. They sat naked on her chest, blushing red.

And then I saw the wholly unexpected, her nipples were hard.

I was starting to think this was going to work.

I'd spent much of the semester wondering what Ms. Bettis breasts looked like; they didn't disappoint. Fat and large, full and round, firm, pale white in color, dotted with a few birthmarks, areolas and nipples light pink in color. Nina, took her time: she held them in her hands, assessed their weight, lifted them, pushed them together, massaged them, kissed the nipples. Then, out of nowhere, Nina pinched her fingers together, squeezing the flesh hard. Ms. Bettis cringed at the unexpected pain and Nina rolled the breasts together and held them up so the nipples were just under Ms. Bettis' chin.

"Kiss them."

Ms. Bettis took a second, as if trying to find an alternative, then quickly kissed each nipple.

With Ms. Bettis' wrists still pinned behind her head, I was running my lips up and down her neck, kissing her ear. I placed my free hand on her thigh. When she pressed her legs together, I worked my fingers between her knees and twisted. She got the message; her legs parted and I forced my hand between them, dragged my knuckle over her pussy though her bikini bottom, cupped the mound, squeezed, then worked her pussy slit with my knuckle.

Nina kneaded Ms. Bettis firm breasts while continuing to hold them before her face.

"Now your nipples, kiss them nice."

Ms. Bettis took an areola into her mouth, sucked on it. As she worked her lips on her own flesh her eyes drifted shut and cheeks puckering, she sucked harder and harder.

My cock had probably never been stiffer.

Nina took the other nipple into her mouth and the two women were cheek to cheek, sucking on Ms. Bettis' breasts. After several minutes feasting on the prodigious mound of tit-flesh, Nina held her nipple between her teeth and pulled; Ms. Bettis' winced, but without being told, did the same. Soon they were both sucking and biting nipples, stretching them up until they supported the full weight of Ms. Bettis' massive tits, then let go and watched the breasts bounce, the nipples snap back into place. I pressed my knuckle to Ms. Bettis' sex, then slid it to her clit. Ms. Bettis moaned around the breast stuffed in her mouth.

I pressed my palm to the face of Ms. Bettis' vagina; she was getting wet. I moved a finger under her bikini bottom. No hair. I swept it over the skin; smooth as a baby's bottom. Ms. Bettis waxed down there; and with that a thought I'd had earlier crystalized in my mind; other than on her head there was not a hair on Ms. Bettis' body.

I dragged moisture from her cunt to her clit, then rolled it against her body.

Although my erection was ready to explode, I took my time, dragging my finger up her sex, spreading her juice. It was not a flood, but it was undeniable and growing. I lowered my head, pulled her bikini bottoms away from her flat belly, and let a glob of spit I had been building in my mouth drop onto her clit; I began, in earnest, to massage the bud against her body.

Nina placed Ms. Bettis' hands under her breasts; Ms. Bettis was no holding them to her hungry mouth. She switched from one to the other, sucking on the areolas as if she was in a trance. Her pussy lips were coated with juice. I pushed a finger inside her.

Her head rocked back and she moaned, "Nnnnnnhhhhhhhhh."

Nina, with an evil glint in her eyes, said, "And then Mr. Strickland, it got even worse, she told me to kiss her, passionately."

Nina licked across her lips, but Ms. Bettis, staring into space, did not respond. Nina then took hold of Ms. Bettis' jaw, turned her head, and squeezed: Ms. Bettis' mouth opened and Nina licked from her chin to her lips, then shoved her tongue into Ms. Bettis' mouth. Ms. Bettis sucked it in, kissed back; the women's lips began moving hard against each other.

I looked down at my hand, focusing on what I was doing. I dragged my finger across the roof of Ms. Bettis vagina until a short involuntary spasm told me I'd found what I wanted, her g-spot. I started working it, slowly at first, gauging her reactions, then used my thumb on her clit; her damp swelling crotch confirmed I was on the right track.