Peter Jensen - A husband_s hobby

They were in Honolulu when they first noticed the problem. Everything had gone perfectly that day, and considering the time change that they encountered during their eight hour flight, both the young teachers were in high spirits. They managed to take in both a luscious dinner and a stage show that first night, and then they went to bed to try for their first child.

Their love-making had been normal in every respect, too, except they were strangely unable to reach orgasm. Laughing it off that first time, the married couple attempted to ignore it, but when their Hawaiian vacation was over, both young teachers knew there was something wrong.

Then had followed the series of embarrassing tests and marriage counseling, during which it was determined that they might not be doing enough to satisfy each other's needs. Both healthy young adults ridiculed this conclusion, saying that psychiatrists and marriage counselors didn't know what it was like to be in love, so how could they know what truly exhilarating sex was?

But as the weeks wore on, the conclusions of the counselors seemed to bear themselves out. Mark and Natalie reluctantly admitted that the professionals might have a point and they returned for another therapy session. The kindly European counselor suggested that they tell each other their sexual fantasies, and then try to help each other act them out, thereby alleviating some of the inner frustration that they were both beginning to feel.

For a while, that seemed to be the solution, but Natalie was unable to completely comply with the marriage counselor's suggestion. Well how could I, really? she asked herself logically. Surely the doctor didn't expect me to go out and get laid by some high school student. Fantasies are fantasies up to a point, and then acting them out could become dangerous to a marriage.

Oh, God, why? the pretty, full-bodied twenty-five year old woman asked herself again. It had been happening for three years, ever since she had first begun teaching. When she was single, it hadn't been so bad. She would come home from school and finger-fuck herself to orgasm while she imagined the firm, naked bodies of her young male students. Once, she had even taken a yearbook off the shelf and turned to the pages where the swim team was pictured in their brief, revealing nylon trunks, outlining the bulges of their young virile cocks with obscene clarity. That page was still sticky with her dried female cum, where she had held the page open with her dripping fingers.

Last June, when she had joyfully agreed to marry Mark Jenkins, Natalie sincerely hoped that her preoccupation with young men would fade into the background, and indeed, for the first eight or nine months of their marriage it had. Sex with Mark was so much more filling and complete than her previous finger-fucking had been that the voluptuous math teacher logically assumed that her fantasies were dead. Then this awful counseling had come along to remind her of her imaginary perversion, and the poor woman was beside herself.

To be fair, Mark was taking the whole embarrassing episode in his stride. He was loving and understanding when his young wife failed to reach her climax, and he would often strain his already cum drained penis in and out just to make her cum. But at the same time, he seemed to be becoming less and less interested in their sexual relations, a fact which the counselor had attributed to their underlying fantasies.

Mark had been open and willing with Natalie, telling how he dreamed of fucking upside down, with the woman on the top, and how he had often wanted to fuck his long hard cock up between her huge ripe tits and cum all over her neck and chin. Natalie tried to explain her own visions, too, but she could say only so much. How could she tell her own husband that she lusted after her tenth and eleventh grade math students?

When the counseling seemed to fail them, Mark had hit on the idea of spending the summer in the country, away from the hassles of the big city. A guy he'd gone to college with was running a summer camp for boys near Lake Devonshire, and Mark decided to see if he and Natalie could be hired as counselors or teachers.

Stuart Brooks had been all too happy to accommodate the young couple. Normally, he tried to avoid hiring women in the basically all-male camp, but the cook was a woman, and Lucille Wells was there because her husband was. And Natalie Jenkins had the additional qualifications to teach math and English, both of which were included in the program to help prepare the young eighth grade graduates for their high school education.

So far, Natalie found the camp refreshing and exciting, but their two nights here had been uneventful. The lovely teacher slumped into the cushion which had so recently been the site of her almost-orgasm and buried her head in her hands. No, no she moaned inwardly.

Don't make this go on.

Natalie rose from the cushions almost as suddenly as she had sat down. The demanding tingle up between her legs refused to be quieted, tormenting her with its fiery, unfulfilled insistence. Oh, Lord, dear God, she groaned silently. I'll never be able to stand this… She paced the living room of the staff cabin nervously, glancing every so often at the intercom switchboard that had so rudely interrupted her quest for orgasmic release. Her inner thighs seemed to be burning as she rubbed them nakedly together when she walked. She could feel the crotch-band of her panties soaking warmly with her still-oozing lubricating fluids as her whole belly ached with need.

Finally, in desperation the beautiful young brunette headed urgently toward her bedroom, plopping herself down across the double bed that she and her husband shared at Weatherly-Brooks Camp. Her hands flew up to the tips of her thrusting breasts, tweaking them gently through the stiff material of her camp blouse. She began to unbutton the uniform with one hand while the other crept down to the crotch of the short-shorts, rubbing sensuously over the rise of her pubic mound. It was something she had been trying to avoid during the whole three months of Mark's and her problem, but it was something she could no longer prevent. She had to have satisfaction.

Loosening the blouse, Natalie slipped her fingers under the sheer fabric of her bra to knead the soft, warm flesh of her breasts, pinching the pliant nipples to rubbery tightness. Her mind spun over the numerous young male bodies she could remember from her three years of teaching at the urban high school, and she picked several out for their fantastic, healthy looking magnetism. The black-haired teacher couldn't help but think of their bodies now, their firm-muscled chest and long, sinewy thighs, their tightly flexed young buttocks and… and… oh, God! their delicious long hard cocks!

Although the young woman had never actually succumbed to the temptation of her unwitting young pupils, Natalie had dreamed and fantasized about them so often that she felt as if she had actually known them, in all their youthful naked splendor. And her mind-visions were made all the more tangible now by the recent, so near and yet so far stimulation of a real flesh-and-blood youth, the fourteen year old boy whom her husband had sent to pick up a book.

Dear God! the lust-crazed woman repeated to herself as she squirmed into the mattress with her hips. I was so close! And Jason Powell was really here, right here between my legs, and his lovely thick cock was right up in my pussy, God! Right up there in my belly!

Her long shapely legs began to scissor open and shut in remembered lust as she hurriedly unzipped her shorts and slid them down over her hips to land beside the bed on the floor. Her thin nylon panties were stuck drenched into the crevice between her firmly molded ass-cheeks, and she had to arch up off the bed to remove them. Reaching down the full length of her reclining body, she teased herself with a rhythmic pinching of her clitoris, fanning the burning passion that still remained from Jason's untimely departure. Her smooth rounded buttocks quivered tensely into the quilt-covered bed until she could feel the raised seams of the patchwork rubbing against the tender swelling vaginal lips. At the almost electrical contact, her breath quickened into a soft panting, and the fiery passionate yearning blossomed ever more insistently in her loins.