(Author's note: all of the characters in this story are at least eighteen years of age. All of the fine academies mentioned herein-- although the names are fictionalized-- have assured me they do not take in young ladies until one day past their eighteenth birthday.)
Professor David Rogers had never been as excited in his life as the limo sent to pick him from Heathrow finally entered the sleepy Sussex village of Southmound. Its "downtown" appeared to be nothing but a worn down pub and inn (The Wayward Mound), a postal office and some kind of general store. The driver breezed on through, made a right, and came upon a long and winding road that passed by farms and hills that were dotted with sheep.
Finally, and David realized that he must've dozed off, they were off the main road on a driveway blocked by a gate. The driver gave his passenger's name to a squawking intercom and the gates slid open. David noted the lack of any signage. No: Thornbush Academy's methods, its primary goals, indeed, its very existence were all kept secret from an intrusive world...
David reflected on his own long and winding road that had brought him to this place. It had started in grad school with his relationship with his slightly older female teacher. She was so remarkably intelligent and so open to experiment sexually that they tried out positions that were new to them both. One in particular came from an extremely X-rated video. They tried it and David insisted he could improve on it. He did. The results were rapid fire multiple orgasms for her while he remained hard and still ready to fire.
Over the next few weeks they nearly wore themselves out. Terri (his professor) told him that she had done due and diligent research and that David had truly invented something completely new and wonderful. She also told him that she had confided their results to her girlfriends and they asked her permission to try him... or it.
It was an extraordinary offer of an extraordinary experience. Terri worked out all the details: in the end there were going to be three young women who would participate in David's uniquely hands-on-- or penis in-- teaching experience. Terri would be there: that is, she would be right there in the bedroom "supervising" as each of the three girls took their turn atop David.
The lessons began with each girl riding David-- who was actually not doing much besides lying back and playing director while ensuring he remained sufficiently hard. The girl had to lean herself back at first in a certain way and then suddenly practically fall on top of him-- all the while riding him up and down. The result-- if done right-- would not only stimulate her g-spot but also the entirety of her clitoris from inside her vaginal walls. Since David would have just started going, two and possibly three or more intense female orgasms were possible before he finally succumbed-- if at all-- to all of those pulsating vaginal contractions...
David shook back his memories as the limo pulled up to the entrance of a sprawling, ivy-covered Tudor mansion. What immediately caught his attention was a smiling, elegantly dressed, classically British blonde who reminded him of no one less than the sixties movie bombshell Shirley Eaton: the Golden Girl from 'Goldfinger.'
After the driver deposited his luggage at the entrance and departed, the lovely smiling elegant lady took both his hands in hers and held them.
"Welcome!" she said. "I'm Janice Griswold: one of the few professors who isn't currently occupied in instructing our young ladies. Let me look at you!"
(She actually said that, and she actually did.)
"You are the stuff of legend! We're already using and adapting your techniques and I absolutely adore your introductory lesson: 'How to be sexually submissive (even if you're not'); it's brilliant and you're brilliant and..."
Janice stopped and blushed as she realized she was gushing. David looked her up and down and wondered if she was a gusher from other parts of her body. Janice looked down as if she had forgotten she was still holding both his hands. She made a show of looking around and then she suddenly hugged him hard and kissed his cheek.
"We are going to get along... famously!" she whispered. She disentangled herself from David and insisted on helping him inside with some of his luggage.
As he followed Janice inside, he was certain that she was well-aware of his eyes on the slit in the back of her tight pencil skirt. As he was sure that she was also aware that her skirt was just a bit too tight to contain the twin mounds of her buttocks which were straining to happily bounce along in rhythm to each of her long-legged, high-heeled steps.
As this delightful lady showed him his nicely furnished quarters-- all set up with a very welcoming, homey touch-- David thought back to the aftermath of his very first hands-on class in female sexuality...
All three of the girls were nervous and shy at first-- they were, after all, making love with their girlfriend's boyfriend, right in front of her. But, as all three began to enjoy themselves, riding on his still hardly worn out penis, David noticed them all giving him significant looks. He knew that all three wanted more, and they all wanted it done... unsupervised.
Therefore David wasn't surprised when all three contacted him afterwards, requesting a private group lesson. Terri taught one night class every Wednesday from 7 to 9:45, so that was the optimal time. She was usually too tired afterwards to show up at David's Cambridge co-op, but 9:45 was still the safest time for his own very personal class to end.
The girls all showed up blushing and giggling, but it only required a glass or two of white wine to relieve any remaining inhibitions. It was a group decision that all four of them would pile in naked to David's bedroom as each girl enjoyed her multi-orgasmic ride in turn.
The girls nearly all provided helpful suggestions, but they also had other sexual questions. They now had a willing man-- with a very willing penis-- to experiment with without all of the usual emotional complications.
Everything went into David's notes. He was slowly developing a unique, inside view of female sexuality and how to teach it. Everything went fine for a while, until of course Terri figured it out, angrily left, and took two out of three girlfriends with her. The one who remained with David also went beyond the student/teacher relationship, and made things very personal...
Janice was speaking and David once again had to snap out of his reverie. "I'm sure you'll be very comfortable here, and if there's anything at all you need, my quarters are right down the hallway." She helpfully pointed.
Looking back and forth, Janice got close to him. "You'll have a very busy day: Dean has delayed Home Room so that you'll enjoy a very special meet-and-greet with all of our girls, as well as our very own 'The A B C's of Female Sexuality' presentation. So..." She leaned in and quickly gave him a very firm hug and quite the lingering kiss. Her firm hug grazed his left buttock on her way around, as her lingering kiss provided just a hint of a talented tongue.
"I will hopefully be able to see you later tonight," she said softly. "We have, I'm certain, so many things to go over-- to discuss as learned adults in a more private setting."
As Janice strolled to her quarters she glanced back at David, happy to see he was so intently enjoying the view of her own posterior quarters. "I will, of course, be more appropriately dressed-- so to speak!-- for the evening hours... something for you to look forward to as you continue with your busy day." And then she grinned and turned the corner and was gone.
David sat on his new bed, deliberately testing its firmness and its bounce for the anticipated nocturnal activity. His mind drifted back to his student turned girlfriend-- Nancy or Nan-- and how she was the one who told him about Claymore Academy:
It was an all-girls school for eighteen to nineteen-year-olds. It was "well-known," according to his new girlfriend, that the wealthy daddies silently encouraged their daughters to get rid of their sexual frustrations through brief affairs with the older and wiser professors-- instead of those clumsy, fumbling "Cambridge boys."
How did she know all this? Her Daddy was one of THE daddies; he was on the board, and they were currently looking for a like-minded professorial candidate who understood the unspoken rules.
David had just completed his Masters in American History and, while inexperienced, felt that Claymore was ideal for him. With help from his girlfriend and hints and winks during his two interviews, it was clear to the board that this young man (only twenty-five at the time) was a team-player and they took him on.
David soon established his own new private classes in sexual education with the very-willing young ladies of Claymore. He wisely started with one girl who told her friends, and they told their friends, and so on. That was how David ended up settling on eighteen to nineteen as the ideal age range for intense sexual training. These eager young ladies were just leaving girlhood behind and were only now entering into the fullness of womanhood.
Nan had long since moved on but their were no hard feelings. It was her father in fact who took young David under his wing and hinted that he had his own ideas about instructing young ladies...
David got off the bed and checked out the view from the window. There was a stone portico, covered with vines, all the way around at least this portion of the building. Just beyond that he could make out the very edge of the garden. The garden...
Dean Williams had already sent him some very interesting photos that the girls had taken as part of Art & Photography class. They were of course nudes of some of the less inhibited girls, and many of the nudes were quite revealing. There were indeed more than a few shots of girlishly young hands and fingers parting firm thighs and holding open bright wet pink folds. There was still something so innocent about it all, as if all these young ladies wanted to do was to properly introduce their intimate insides first to the gaze of the sun, and only secondarily to that of an eager world.
They were, amazingly, actually selling these photos in select galleries as classic erotica. The photographs consisting of closeups with flowers all around were titled "Girls and Their Opening Flowers" and were credited to "The Shameless Ladies Collective" and all proceeds were split between the photographers, the naughty young models, and the Academy.
David had at least thirty minutes to prepare before the special class in his honor. He thought about strolling the grounds at random and hoping that he'd run into a female student at random. They were all trained to be initially submissive and submit to proper uniform checks in addition to vaginal, clitoral and nipple checks under their minimal clothes-- as well as submitting to the reasonable (non-penetrating) needs of a "randy" male. But he knew there would be a lot more of that later.
David got out his laptop and opened up his masterwork: "They Only Want to Learn: a Manual for the Sexual Training and the Intimate Education of Select Young Women."
David sighed as he remembered the night of Nancy's sister's eighteenth birthday party; the night he had first discussed his manual with anyone. He had been so wary of running into his ex, but her father informed him that both she and her mother were traveling though Europe for the summer.
