Thornbush Academy

(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.

David hadn't known that it was a swim party for the girls. He was escorted through the house out to the pool by one of the staff. He was immediately assaulted-- if that was the word-- by the sight of at least twenty eighteen-year-olds splashing and giggling and running all around, with each one wearing the most minimal of teeny bikinis.

David found his way to the outdoor bar where three of the fathers were gathered. They all sat and took in the scene in front of them. Terri's father (John) observed wisely: "there is simply nothing else in the whole wide world-- no other sight quite as wonderful as this." The other men agreed. David wondered if they were all consciously avoiding ogling their own bikinied daughters, or if such a thing was even possible.

John turned to him. "How would like to have about half of these hot little honeys here-- say ten girls-- out of their bikinis and completely nude and in your capable hands as you teach these little bundles of sexual energy to be totally submissive and yet so knowledgeable about sex that they blow everyone else out of the water?"

David stared at him with his mouth open. John clapped him on the back. "We know all about your unofficial sex classes-- let's talk about making them... semi-official..."

David was scrolling through his laptop during his reminiscence and signed into one of the erotic galleries. Talk about "hot little honeys!". He smiled. There was nothing like the blossoming openness of a young woman's vulva: outer and inner labia-- once aroused and opened-- had a tendency to stay open. What a pleasure it would be to actually be there, and to watch their inner folds, their poky nubs and their teardrop-shaped holes all gaping open and flowing with their own sweet nectar...

There was a knock on the door and David slammed his laptop shut. Why? he wondered, shaking his head as he got up. This was a place where eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls were subject to having their skirts pulled up, panties pulled down, and pussies-- or cunnies-- publicly stroked. Feeling guilty was a throwback to, what was for David, an ancient time.

He opened the door and there was a French maid standing there. She was really all dressed up as the proverbial French maid: short skirt with stockings and garters and a tight white blouse with half the buttons unbuttoned.

"Hello!" she said. "Welcome to Thornbush! I am Brigette, at your service always, and ready to escort you to the Home Room." David went and managed to grab his laptop with all of his hidden files and meet her out in the hallway without ever taking his eyes off her luscious form.

As David followed her through the hallways and past the entrance hall, he was watching her tight little ass which was twitching in a very exaggerated manner. He also noted that Brigette had emphasized the words "service" and "escort."

She must have read his mind: "Since you are the new guest, I must tell that I am truly always at your service; I will for the instance clean the room nude except for the bed and wait for you under covers if that is your wish. I am the true submissive and to serve you is my great delight."

David knew they must be getting close to Home Room. Still, he was now becoming excited in more ways than one.

"Are you truly submissive?" he asked.

She licked her lips and looked around. "Oh monsieur! We are just at the corner and someone may see!"

"Bend over," he commanded, his voice husky. "All the way over and touch your toes."

Brigette sighed but she did as she was told. David flipped her tiny skirt up to her waist and pulled down her white thong panties in all of five seconds.

"Oh monsieur: merci!" she cried.

David ignored her. He roughly opened her thighs and cupped his right hand between her legs and then ran his fingers up and down the length of her vulva from behind. She was already nice and slippery from clit to cunt. He withdrew his hand and smelled her, then tasted her juices.

"Ahhh..." he exclaimed. "You may rearrange your clothing now, cher fille, pardon moi, but I simply cannot go that long without that smell; without that taste."

Brigette stood up and rearranged herself; she curtsied, her face flush. "I exist to service you. There is no apology." And then she led him around the corridor and pointed to a closed, heavy oaken door. "The Home Room," she said. "They are waiting." She came close and put her hand on his chest and then kissed him softly. "Thank you for using me: I am always yours. Ask anyone for me and I will come to you. We will... finish what we started."

David watched her walk away and turned to the door. He thought of wiping his hand but he saw no need. There were supposedly nineteen girls in there; many of them would require intimate handling. Their scents, their juices, would simply mix with sweet Brigette's.

He squared his shoulders and walked in.

As David entered, his breath was literally taken away by nineteen smiling, curious and slyly inquisitive young female faces. They were all behind little desks that were designed to reveal-- not hide-- any of their charms, especially their long long girlishly young legs.

Those legs were so long, and there was much of those 38 limbs visible, that David briefly wondered if they were skirt-less. No, he mused, probably not. They would be saving the joys of flipping up their tiny skirts and eventually taking them off, just for him...

David flashed back to his first "semiofficial" sexuality training class. John had led him and the other men down to his walkout basement. It was already set up classroom style, as his wife held her book clubs there. There was a sofa against one wall that would be pulled over to "center stage." It had a pullout bed for overnight guests and would be perfect for the girls as they would be required to participate in various sexual activities out in the open for the class.

Now, how to motivate the girls, as this was not only embarrassingly sexual, but also could obviously not count toward their grades? The dads all laughed. Apparently all it took to properly motivate eighteen-year-old girls were the promises of money, shopping experiences, new cars, trips abroad, and even "yes: now you can stay out all night with that boy!"

David's challenge was to come up with a course that wouldn't take up the little sweeties' whole summer. It was decided that the girls would have to sleep over some weekends to get in enough sessions. Clothing would definitely be optional, and it would get the teenagers in quite the right mood to all be hanging out totally naked and sweetly blushing in front of all of the dads as well as John's mostly male staff.

But now the schedule: David would need at least seven dates:

1 Introduction; undressing; intimate handling: "every part of your body is beautiful;

2 Submissive training: it starts with you on your knees;

3 Masturbation: learn to please yourself before others;

4 David's method: an introduction to multi-orgasmic intercourse;

5 Oral sex: more than just "blow jobs;"

6 Anal sex: exploring forbidden territory;

7 What about the ladies?: learning more about sexual pleasuring through girl on girl experiences.

The dads all loved it except they felt there just wasn't enough time devoted to perfecting the art of simple intercourse. David suggested that for the last half hour or so, the girls would take turns competing to see who would be the first to get David and/or the current volunteer "supervisor" dad off through straight sex.

Those were heady times: they only wound up with nine teenage girls, but they were all such sweetly naked and eager cuties that the classes frequently went overtime. David though, could never quite get used to one of those sweet blushing cuties shyly riding his cock while her Dad was shouting out: "That's it honey! Look at you riding him; you're doing great!"

"Professor Rogers no doubt!" The bear-like gentleman with long silver hair who came up and snapped David out of his trance introduced himself as Dean Wilson. The two men had been emailing and occasionally calling for months. The Dean was coy about how he had heard about David's "great work" but David suspected John, or even his wife, who were always in Europe on some mysterious business venture.