Unknown - High School Scandals

If he cut his hair now, if he backed down and kissed ass for the school board the kids would know him for a copout, and they’d be right. All this fine, deep rapport between him and his class would vanish like pipe smoke in a high wind.

There’d be no exchanging of cunts upon his hard prick, no tender pulling of young mouths upon his balls. He’d have no marvelous little snatches to eat. The mingling, the blending and meshing of flesh and spirit would be gone suddenly.

He fell asleep with the radio going, and woke only once in the morning to shut it off, and to pull up the sheet in the early chill of a new day. Strangely enough, he had a hard-on, and grinned sleepily at the idea. By all rights, the strength should be gone from his cock for weeks to come.

Dallas didn’t dream, and awoke again some where around noon. He loved Saturdays, he thought, and climbed groggily from his bed, ravenous and ready for whatever the day might bring. Frying bacon, he remembered the bugs and frowned; he didn’t get many phone calls, but one of the kids might buzz him.

After he ate, he’d have to do something about that.

There’d have to be a code set up he realized; something very simple that didn’t sound phony. Or else, he’d pass word not to call him at home, unless it was strictly school business. Any messages could be given to him in class, passed to him with test papers or something. Dallas bit into toast and thought that he was already turning paranoid and thinking like some kind of cloak and dagger operator.

Finishing breakfast, he piled dishes in the sink and headed for the shower. By the time he’d soaped himself all over, the events of the night before came crowding back to shove everything else out of his head, and his sudsy hand caressed his half-hard cock as he saw the scene again.

Damn-those kids were the hottest, sexiest he could imagine. Not only the now known bodies of Kathy Collins and black Angel, but the other two girls-silvery Blythe and golden Susan; they loved to eat cock, and to both a man’s semen was precious, something to be swallowed adoringly.

He had fucked them both, or rather they had screwed him with sweet little cunts so tight and blazing, so juicy and slick. And he had eaten both of them, sucking and lapping, happy with the wonderful intimacy of pussy hairs against his cheeks and cunt oils over his chin. He had reveled in the twisting and surging of their modeled asses, the moaning and heaving as they came against his tongue and teeth.

Stiff-dicked, Dallas rinsed himself off, and climbed out of the shower. Drying his taut body with a rough towel, he thought that he was among the most fortunate of men. He’d been given the chance to fuck not one, but four lovely teenage girls, and he was thankful that he hadn’t screwed up the opportunity.

Was one of the kids better fucking than the other? He shook his head and plugged in his electric razor to move it over his cheeks and chin. The moustache, he left it alone, and the sideburns too. Kathy-was she a hotter screw than Angel, or was Blythe Jackson’s little snatch more loving than Susan Lee’s almost hairless pussy?

There was no way to compare, to judge. They were all terrific, each of them a different flick In herself, and together In pairs they could drive any man right up the wall. What the hell would it be like, to bail bare-assed and horny, with all four of them at the same time? Dallas had no doubt that the girls would respond, if he simply asked them.

Not that he minded the other kids putting the meat to them; that just added spice to the screwing really. Closing his eyes, Dallas saw the pretty pictures of black on white, of white on black, and the patterns were stimulating. Joey Nottingham’s long, black prick had worked solidly into Kathy’s red-haired pussy, and Marty had plunged the cock strongly into Angel’s midnight snatch, his pale body locked into the loving grip of those sleek black legs.

The kids had switched off later, changing positions as well as girls. Dallas hadn’t gotten into those two, his first loves, because he’d been kept too busy by his new cunts, and when they’d finished with him the flesh was too weak to continue.

Putting on his shorts, Dallas had to tuck his hard shaft into place. Here he was ready to go all over again, eager to fuck those glorious kids, to have his cock sucked by them, to shove his entire face into the wet, hairy kiss of their cunts.

Meanwhile, he had the new problem of being watched, and being wired for sound.

He slid into, his pants and tennies, put on a tee-shirt and ran a comb through his hair. Ready for wherever he was going and whatever he meant to do, Dallas recovered his wallet and stuff from the dresser top, slipped the lock on the door, and went outside.

As he reached his VW, he looked casually up and down the street. There was a car parked halfway down the block, a grey Ford; he could make out the hood of a blue Chevy in the opposite direction. Would his house be staked out on a weekend? Climbing into the bug, he keyed the switch and thought why not.

Collins wanted something on him-anything that could be used as ammunition for a school board firefight Morals and character, habits and traits-all that outmoded crap that should have gone out with the witch-hunt age, but still hadn’t in small towns.

The board could hassle him, try to fire him if he boozed too much, or was caught doing grass, or was found in the company of a woman of ill repute. And if anyone ever got the slightest idea that he was swinging with his own students-he wouldn’t only be fired, he would be cremated.

What the hell, he thought, and pulled the VW away from the curb, heading toward a lonely stretch of beach about forty miles out of town. If he stood fast this term and earned the respect of the kids, as well as kept peace with himself, he could move on to the junior college next year. He’d have all summer to decide.

But if he put down the kids and the wild love life they had opened to him, then he’d be a fink of the worst order, and it would be tough to live with.

No car followed him when he turned onto the coast road; that he could tell. A few miles out, a grey Ford whipped by him carrying two guys. But there were plenty of grey Fords, and the day was too nice to bother about them. He breathed in fresh salt air and smelled the sun, wishing that at least Kathy Collins could be on the seat beside him, that they could swim and sun and fuck leisurely on the deserted beach without being seen by hateful eyes. She was still his favorite girl.

The rearview mirror picked up a blue Chevy, and Dallas blinked at it; two more guys inside, and the car hung back, not attempting to pass even when he slowed some. But when he signaled for a left onto the beach, the Chevy kept going up the highway.

Locking the bug, Dallas strolled down the beach, becoming interested as always in the waves, in sand patterns. When he looked up again, they were coming at him from two directions. He stood still for only a startled moment, seeing two men bearing down on him from the north, watching two more get between him and his car. He was neatly boxed in, and there was no help in sight.

Dallas stooped to snatch a smooth rock from the sand; it wasn’t as big or heavy as he would have liked, but it would have to do. Then he fooled them by not bolting for his car. Instead, he darted toward the highway, and when they ran converging upon his line of flight, he spun and raced head on for the pair loping down the beach.

He flung the rock when he was fifty feet away, and lucked onto another one when he skidded to a stop. He was trying to boot it out of the sand when his first missile landed and the man yelled. When Dallas rose with another chunk of granite in his hand, he faked a throw north, then pivoted and actually loosed the rock south. It was pretty good, catching that oncoming pair by surprise, not hitting either one, but scattering them and slowing them down.