Boy Scout Mothers Ch 09

I was day dreaming in class thinking of my Boy Scout Mums. I started this day dream by wondering how many of them were bored and frustrated.

Then as the class got more tiresome my dream developed into an idea.

If Jackie, Darlene, Maryanne and Jennifer had become so shit off with their husbands that they were willing to cheat with me, how many others may be prepared to do so. Would I be able to fuck them all?

My minds eye started a parade of potential cheating mums and their sexiest features.

I am sure I must have been drooling as my day dream turned to the 20 mums and their best bits. I had seen very few with their clothes off, but they were a wonderful collection of mature women.

In my dream I remembered big tits in tight sweaters, little tits in singlets, low cut or unbuttoned tops that showed hard tits, soft tits, in fact all sorts of tits. Skimpy tops that let me identify brown nipples, pink nipples, long nipples, I remembered long legs in high heels well muscled legs, tanned legs, white legs, lips, bottoms, the parade went on and on.

If I wasn’t drooling I most certainly was awkwardly erect, when I was brought back to reality by the sound of the bell ending class for today.

I gathered my books quickly rushing towards the door when I was stopped quickly by the words” stop there young Man.”

I stopped dead in my tracks hoping against hope that Mrs Caruthers didn’t mean me. Mrs Caruthers was known to one and all as the “Bitch.”

She fully deserved that reputation having earned it by the many and varied forms of mental torture she had devised to torment her classes.

She was looking straight at me, “yes I mean you, come back here I want to talk to you.”

The room emptied quickly, quite a few gave me sympathetic glances. thought it was clear that they were delighted they weren’t the one to fall foul of the “Bitch”.

As I sat down, I thought I am glad Caruthers is not a Boy Scot Mum; her sour aggressive attitude could spoil a great group. Christ she didn’t even have a best bit.

Mrs Caruthers was over 6 foot. She always wore long skirts down to her ankles. She never wore a top that accentuated her tits; in fact with the clothes she wore it was hard to know if she had tits. She had no bum to speak off, her backside being flat without so much as a contour. Yes I was glad she wasn’t a Boy Scout mum.

My study tour of the Caruthers anatomy was abruptly stopped as she demanded “what were you dreaming of in class this afternoon.” Christ, what could I say? So I mumbled “nothing miss.” Don’t Miss me, I `m Mrs Caruthers and you know it.”

When she said “Don’t miss me” I laughed.

I thought Mrs Caruthers was going to explode, “you stupid boy what are you laughing at.”

Without thinking I told her the truth, repeating the joke that had caused me to laugh.

“A young man says to the chemist, Give me a dozen condoms miss.” When the chemist’s wife not wanting to be called “Miss” said, “don’t you Miss me.” He replied. “Well make it 13.”

She smiled as I finished, “Young man, your mind is full of sex and foolishness. In recent days you have shown a surprising glimpse of emerging maturity, don’t loose it.”

“I was very disappointed this afternoon to find you sitting in class with an obvious erection, an erection that couldn’t possibly be caused by the class subject. Now, when I challenge you, you think of a joke.”

I spoke up “I think you enjoyed the joke, it was just a play on words.”

“Yes it was smart” she replied.

A smiling Mrs Caruthers was displaying a softness that I had never noticed before. As she watched I ran my tongue around my lips letting it slide out of my mouth. She blushed, squirming slightly in her seat.

My God was she showing a hidden untapped side or was I just imagining it. “Tell me about the Boy Scout den, they tell me you are playing a leadership role,” she asked changing the subject.

I told her that I was being paid to help the group of ladies that had become known as the Boy Scout mothers. I explained that I should be down at the library right now, where a committee was being formed to run a number of fund raising dinners and parties.

“I have to go to the library myself. So we will finish this session by reminding you that I will be watching you In future,” She said finalising my detention.

As I collected my books I remembered that I had never seen her drive a car to work.

“Can I give you a lift?” I asked. Smiling she replied, “Yes that would be wonderful.”

Remembering Angelique’s advice I displayed my best manners, opening the Jeep’s door, helping her into her seat. When we reached the Library parking lot I hurried to open the door and help her out.

“Thank you” she said as we parted. “It is nice to find a young man with good manners, opening the door is very nice, but I really don’t need help to get into my seat. “I am only 44 not 84 she said with a grin.”

Inside the library the meeting was in full swing. Felicity Goldberg the wife of our cities top banker had offered her home for the first of a number of weekly dinners or cocktail parties to widen support and raise more money.

The plan was for a form of progressive dinner. Instead of moving from house to house for each course all on the one night, they would plan six weeks of functions one a week at different locations, with different fare.

I arrived just in time to hear my mother say “Richard is paid to help, so he should work with Felicity and Alma as a three person team to run the first evening.”

Alma a middle aged no nonsense management consultant was all business, ordering me to go to the photo copy room and run off multiple copies of her timetable and list of invitees.

The copy room was down the back away from the main library behind the office. It was now early evening the office was empty. Office staff were manning the front counter.

As I drew near the copy room I could hear a woman’s voice raised in anger.

“What a pile of shit, the fucking thing is stuffed” Mrs Caruthers was waving her hands in frustration at the paper jam.

Well! Well! Mrs. Caruthers certainly was a surprise packet. Students in my business class thought her cold and super efficient. Today I was seeing a different side of this lanky raw-boned teacher.

She jumped, as I entered the room quietly, and moved to free the jammed paper. She went red in the face and started to explain.

I silenced her, “I won’t tell anyone you curse when you can’t operate a photo copier, if you don’t tell anyone about my classroom indiscretion.” I whispered.

We worked together to free the jam and sort fresh paper. When the machine started to work I told her to do her copying first, adding that I would come back, and do mine later.

Back at the meeting the formal business had been completed. Mrs Goldberg had brought a half a dozen bottles of expensive red wine, so the group could enjoy a relaxing drink after the meeting. Many mums left early leaving half the wine unopened.

I was closely studying the magnificent Mrs Goldberg when her large fat bald headed husband called to take her home, leaving me to clean up and finish the photocopying. The librarian, whose wife was one our mothers, told me to finish up and pull the door closed when I left.

I opened one of the remaining three bottles of wine deciding to drink from the bottle rather than dirty any more glasses.

The library was empty and quiet as I rolled down to the copy room taking the left overs with me.

Mrs Caruthers was in the middle of another paper jam. “Bloody hell I thought you would have gone an hour ago” I exclaimed. She was down on her knees poking around in the machines innards. “It hasn’t worked properly all night,” she cried.

I helped her up and sat her on the sorting bench, giving her the bottle of red, while I again worked on the machine.

She tilted the bottle up to her thin lips and drank freely, telling me between swigs, “That’s a great red.”

I turned to look at her, she was grinning, “It’s been years since I drank good red wine from the bottle. Years ago when I was a student, I worked on a grape farm in the valley, we drank from the bottle and by the bottle after work.”

She went on “A good red and a good bed and someone to share it with was our motto.”

“That’s a bloody good motto,” I said as I sat down beside her. We shared the bottle and opened a second. “Your copying is finished. If you like to stay while I finish mine I will drive you home.” I offered.

“Thank you, that will be great, I live just past the end of the western bus line and the busses don’t run this late.” she said. We stayed after the copying was over to finish off the second bottle of red. She drained the last drop into her mouth, stood up, grabbed my arm and said take me home.

In the jeep she started to fall asleep. When we passed the bus terminal, she was asleep. I badly needed to empty my bladder, she seemed fast asleep so I found a dark private spot under a tree, and stood enjoying a sweet relief while trying to direct my stream onto the tree.

I was thinking I’d had too much to drink, when an arm went around my waist. To compound the surprise, Mrs Caruthers giggling asked me what I was doing. I got such a surprise the last of my piss wet my legs. She burst out laughing “can’t you control that thing.” “I’ll control you “I said with a groan.

I grabbed her roughly, “I ought to put you across my fucking knee and tan your hide for making me piss myself.”

“Promises, promises,” she laughed, swinging away. I lunged and caught her, flopping down on the ground dragging her across my knee. She struggled laughing, but seemed to settle under my hand.

I held her in the middle of the back with one hand. The other pulled her long skirt up till her white silk panties were showing. She started to buck; I hit her a good hard smack on the arse. She didn’t cry out, so I did it again, and again, I was starting to enjoy myself.

She stopped struggling and squirmed her cunt down on my erect cock. “Do it again, go on hit me again” she urged.

“These bloody things are in the way,” I said as I tore her silk panties down. Her arse was bright red; I gave it three or four more hard smacks, then leant down to kiss it.

I ran my tongue over her hot red skin, nipping and licking, then slipped it into her hole. She bucked “oh that’s lovely” she cried.

“Please lover, fuck me;” “Oh please, fuck me in the arse.” She was pushing her arse back on my tongue, moaning and squirming, pleading “fuck me, fuck my arse.”

I pulled her hard skinny arse up until she was on her knees with her face buried in the grass.

Her cunt was wet so I dipped my cock in to grease it, She reacted pushing me away, “not there my arse.”

“Your arse is dry it will hurt,” I said, as I spat in her arsehole. “I don’t care; I want it, give it to me.” “Please do it, please.”

She was on fucking fire as I drove in past a slight blockage, on in to the hilt, pushing her forward, forcing her head down into the grass.

She immediately banged back against me grunting out loud, “Oh yes! Yes! Thank you, thank you.”

She was bucking back wildly as I moved my hands to grab her clit rubbing her nub, massaging it in time with my thrusts in her arse. “That’s beautiful. Oh my goodness, keep it up.”

She didn’t stop talking, moaning and crying, “Fuck me hard, oh, please give it to me.” “Ram it in fuck you.”

I did as I was told grabbing her hair, pulling her head back hard and banging into her as hard as I could.

“Cop this you bitch this is for all the shit you create for me and my classmates,” I said as I tried my best to poke right through her.

We fucked down on our knees on the side of the road.

All her words along with her anal muscle control brought me to an abrupt conclusion. My cum poured into her arse. My knees began to buckle. I kept slamming as I sank lower and lower, finally I slipped out and turned her over to kiss her.

We lay cuddling in each others arms, we were fucked.

Her hair was a mess, her skirt was covered in grass stains her knees were scratched.

I realised with a shock that we had been fucking outside the gate to her home, if her husband woke up she would have had no chance of explaining her condition. Even now, if he saw us he would know what we had been doing.

She wasn’t worried. In fact she was excited. “I have always wanted to do that.” “To be fucked in the arse in a moment of passion, was one of my long standing dreams. I will never forget this night,” she said kissing me and patting my but.

Mrs Caruthers picked up her torn panties, as I took her hand and escorted her up the path to her door.

“We must be quiet my husband might wake up” she said holding a finger to her lips. Now at the last minute she’s worried I thought.

She turned and kissed me “I can still feel you in my arse.” “You were magnificent. We will do it again.”

As I walked away she whispered, “Call me Helen.”

What a night I had smacked and then fucked in the arse the teacher known as the bitch. What’s more the bitch said “we will do it again.”