Camilla

Mr. Grisham wasn't the only teacher at Camilla's high school to lust after her. Mr. Hanson was walking by Grisham's classroom during lunchtime when he overheard a tearful Camilla begging Grisham to be with her again. Hanson, feeling an inexplicably stronger urge than usual to be near her, stopped behind the slightly ajar door and eavesdropped.

"Please keep your voice down, Camilla," Grisham whispered.

"I miss you," she whined, affecting the voice of a spoiled little girl, fidgeting on his lap, and pouting.

Putting his hands on her cheeks and looking gently but firmly in her eyes, Grisham summoned all of his strength to resist her and said, "Sweetie, it's over between us."

"Maybe after I graduate in two months, you'll come over to

Luvlee's

and see me naked?" she asked. Hanson's face lit up from learning that she worked in a strip club.

"Maybe," Grisham said. Satisfied with that answer, she got off his lap and left the room. When she reached the door, Hanson heard her say to herself, "Now I need a new teacher."

This was as much encouragement as Hanson needed. He was a year older than Grisham, as tall as him, not as handsome, somewhat hairier, a little bigger in the gut and had a slightly receding hairline; but Hanson still had hopes that he would be good-looking enough to Camilla to be her new lover. Later, he taught her in history class. He noticed her admiring eyes as he displayed his extensive knowledge of imperial Rome: he was lecturing on emperor Claudius and his promiscuous wife, Messalina. Then he put the girls in groups to discuss what he'd just lectured about, and went around from group to group to hear how the discussions were going. He went behind Camilla and, not at all knowing where he'd got his boldness from, surreptitiously put his hands on her buttocks. Aroused, she quickly inhaled, her heart beating quicker.

Still with his hands on her behind, he asked her group if there were any problems. "No sir," she answered breathily, turning around and looking up in his eyes. Clearly, she didn't object to his errant hands, and he squeezed her buttocks to take advantage of her indulgence of him. She gently grunted with pleasure, and pretended to cough so the other girls in her group wouldn't suspect anything.

I can't believe I actually had the balls to do that,

he thought as he walked away from her.

After class, he followed her in the hall as she spoke with Candice, eavesdropping the whole time.

"I can't stand this," Candice whispered. "I wanna grab you right here, tear off all your clothes, and ravish you right in front of everybody."

"Wait 'til I get home tonight from the massage parlour. I finish at 11," Camilla answered.

"So how long is the drive home?"

"Only about ten minutes, sweetie. The place is on Litchfield Street: it's a quick drive home."

Now Hanson knew where to go that night--

Bates Massage

. He also knew why it was named

Bates

. What he didn't know, however, was how he could have been so lucky to hear such crucial information, freely given from Camilla's own lips.

That evening, he told his wife he was getting together with an old friend for a few drinks, and would be back home around 11. He had to drive to

Bates

from the other side of town, so it took him about a half an hour to get there: impatient, he was trembling with anticipation.

When he walked in and saw her by the front desk, she greeted him with an ear-to-ear grin. "Hi, sir!"

"You work here, Camilla?" he asked in feigned surprise.

"Yep," she answered, knowing from his face that he wasn't really surprised. "What kind of massage would you like, sir? Just a massage is fifty dollars; a bath and massage is one hundred."

"A bath and massage, please."

"Okay," she said, still grinning, with a twinkle in her eye to let Hanson know what the euphemism 'bath and massage' really meant, and that she was more than willing to give him this service. "Would you like

me

to massage you? The other girls are all with clients now."

"Sure." He smiled, and his breathing got heavier.

"Al-righty then: follow me." She led him into a private room. On the right as they went in was the table for the massages, and on the left was the bathtub. A separate room at the back had a toilet. "Do you need to use the washroom, sir? I recommend it. Two hours ago I was massaging a naked man's behind, and he was really enjoying it; then he suddenly broke wind--really loud and stinky. It totally ruined the mood," she giggled.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll use it," he said, went in, and closed the door. As he pulled down his pants to sit on the toilet, he heard her turn on the water in the bathtub.

"In case you're shy, sir, I'll put some bath foam in the water for bubbles," she said. "When you're done in there, come out, take all your clothes off and get in the water. I'll be back in about ten minutes." She left the room to get some soap and lubricant for Hanson's penis.

He finished quickly in the bathroom, came out, got naked, and got in the bath. Since he was proud of his now partially-erect penis, he turned off the water early so it would come up only to his hips, thus leaving his pubic hair and some of his penis exposed through the bubbles.

She came back in the room, and, aroused by his immodest display, giggled with pleasure. "Okay, let's get started, then," she said as she knelt by the tub.

She lathered up the soap and spread the lather on his neck, shoulders and back. Then she soaped up his chest, gently pinching his nipples. He groaned with delight. After that, she moved her hands down to his hairy belly; she stuck her finger in his belly button and giggled. Uncannily, she knew what Hanson's fantasy girl was, just from looking in his eyes: he didn't like the shy, submissive type, as Grisham did. Feeling the vibes she was getting from him, she correctly sensed that he liked the giggling bad girl persona, and she, always the consummate actress, played her part flawlessly. As she soaped up his torso, she frequently brought her hand down to make contact with his increasingly-erect penis.

"Okay, can you get up now, sir?" she asked. "I need to get at your penis."

"No problem." Smiling, he got up, fully exposing his phallus, which was even larger than Grisham's.

"Good: now I can clean your penis and scrotum." Giggling and grinning, she lathered her hands and moved one hand up and down his almost fully-erect phallus, while the other hand soaped his scrotum, tickling his testicles. Admiring his large member, she never took her eyes off of it. Having it close to her face, the always-kneeling girl puckered her lips as if to kiss it. Then she splashed water all over his genitals to rinse them off. "Can you get on all fours now, please? I need to wash your bum."

"Okay." He did as instructed, and she got more lather on her hands to soap up his buttocks and anus. As she rubbed the soap on his buttocks, she frequently squeezed and opened them, exposing his anus, which was brown from his fresh evacuation on the toilet. Getting more lather on her index finger, she put it deep in his rectum, massaging his prostate while cleaning him out completely. His anus changed from brown to pink.

"Now,

that's

a thorough massage," he groaned. She giggled in response.

After rinsing the soap away, she asked him to stand up so she could clean his legs. As she lathered them up, she stared in adoration at his phallus, which pointed straight at her mouth. He wiggled it at her, and slapped it on her cheeks. She let out a high-pitched giggle at his naughtiness. "You're bad, sir," she said with a grin. He tried to put it in her mouth, but, always a tease, she wouldn't let him. "That's another hundred dollars, sir." Sometimes, she took it passively between her lips for second, but did no more.

Finally, the bath was finished, and she used the shower-head to rinse the remaining soap off of him. First, she rinsed off his back and buttocks. Then, telling him to turn around, she rinsed his front, always staring at and admiring his erect penis. There were a few suds on it, and she held it while rinsing it off, all the while puckering her lips and widening her eyes. Then he got out of the tub, and she dried him off with a towel, gently stroking his genitals.

After that, he got on the massage table. His erection made it difficult to lie flat on his stomach at first, but as she rubbed his back, he grew less erect and thus could straighten himself. She then grabbed his buttocks and vigorously massaged them, often opening them to expose his anus, which she looked at with curiosity. (She had some gay male friends who she knew would like Mr. Hanson, and the idea of her watching one of them having anal sex with her history teacher excited her.) She put her finger into his rectum again, massaging his prostate briefly; loudly grunting, he loved the sensation! Then she massaged his legs.

Finally, she had him roll over and lie on his back. The moment he'd been waiting for was coming! He smiled as she massaged his arms, chest, and stomach. Again, she pinched his nipples and poked her finger in his navel: he sighed with pleasure. The closer her hands slowly got to his phallus, the heavier his breathing got. She massaged his thighs, legs, and feet, never taking her eyes off his erection. The suspense and sense of anticipation she created by saving the best to last was done calculatingly: she knew her delays and lustful staring would keep him fully erect without her even needing to touch his penis, though she obviously wanted to. This way, her own sense of anticipation kept her vagina as wet as a laboratory vial filled with water.

At long last, she started gently massaging his scrotum and testicles: her movements made his phallus rock back and forth like a tree branch during a typhoon. Then, as she started touching his penis, he suddenly remembered:

he forgot to go to an ATM before coming to the massage parlour!

Did he have enough money in his wallet? "Can you pass me my pants, please?" he asked her. "I want to see how much money I have."

"OK: remember, the whole thing is $100." Not taking her hand off his penis, she bent over and picked up his pants. He took out his wallet and looked inside: he had only 54 dollars!

"Oh, no," he said. "I don't have enough."

"Oh, well," she said, taking her hand off his penis. "No 'happy ending' for you."

He got off the table and stood up before her. "Look, Camilla. Do you like it?" he asked, looking down at himself.

"Oh, I like him very much," she answered, always looking down at his penis and smiling. She tickled it from underneath with her index finger, gently bit her lip, and giggled.

"Well, can you do me a favour and just finish me off...I mean, if you like 'him' so much."

Smiling slyly and enjoying being a cock-teaser, she cruelly said. "Nope." When saying this, she gently slapped his penis from underneath and giggled as it bounced up and down.

"Why not? What do you want to give me blue balls for?"

"Services have to be paid for, sir: I've already done more for you than your fifty dollars are worth. Besides, I like seeing him hard. If I make you come, he'll go limp, and he won't be as sexy to me." All the while as she said this, she continued playing with his phallus and testes, and giggled.

"How about if I take you out to dinner, then?"

Still staring at, playing with, and admiring his erection, she said, with wide-open eyes and a smile, "Mmm, that sounds appetizing."

"When and where?" he panted.

"Come to

Luvlee's

tomorrow night. You know where that is, don't you? Bring a lot of money so I can do lap-dances for you. Tomorrow

I'll

show you

my

naked body: every inch of me exposed, nothing left to the imagination. You can touch me all over, too: none of my anatomy's off-limits. Then you can buy me dinner at

Lehar's

. It's a French restaurant that's open 24 hours. Then take me to b...wait a minute; what about the Mrs.?"

"She'll be out of town on a business trip. We can come to my place after

Lehar's

. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, always grinning and moving his penis around like the stick-shift of a car. He gave her his $54. Moving his phallus up and down as if she were shaking his hand, she said, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you," and giggled. He put his clothes back on, and she most willingly helped him put his still erect penis in his now-bulging pants. They hugged each other, and she rubbed her belly against the bulge in his pants. Before he turned around to walk out of the room, she gave the bulge one last tickle. They said good-night to each other, and he left. "Don't worry, Mr. Hanson. Tomorrow night, you'll see welcome signs on my mouth, pussy, and asshole. But tonight, those three welcome signs are for Candice."