Ursala Updike - Students At Play

"Good," she heard him gasp. "Real good."

He was ticking his hips back and forth with more rapid rhythm now. She knew he was about to ejaculate and she wanted to feel the hot spurt of his semen scalding on her tongue and throat. She reached behind him and placed her palms against his pulsating buttocks and with an almost feverish intensity she moved her mouth back and forth on his rigid penis.

"Yeah… oh… yeah… " she heard him say.

Then the member in her mouth seemed to snap to an even harder state of erection. It quivered within the hot flesh of her mouth and then felt like it had exploded. The hot liquid of his release shot over her mouth and tongue, burned pleasantly down her throat, and seemed to flow throughout her entire body, caressing every nerve, cleansing every fiber of her body and soul. She sucked greedily, trying to draw every tiny drop of it into herself.

Still his hips ticked,back and forth as she greedily pulled on his flesh, sucking harder and harder until a small semblance of sanity returned to her. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous. She was on her knees in the school's library and she had her mouth literally full of a young man's penis. For a moment she was totally unaware of how she had come to be there. It was as though she had somehow blacked out and had regained only a pan of her consciousness.

Embarrassed, ashamed of herself, and humiliated; she released his penis and staggered to her feet. She could not bring herself to look him in the eye.

"Well," he said as he rezipped his fly. "That wasn't all that bad, was it?"

She couldn't answer.

"You give real good head," he said. "I wonder if you fuck as well."

"No," she gasped. "Please, I-"

Gently he pulled her toward him, and with one hand under her thin lifted her face until her eyes could not avoid meeting his dark sensuous stare.

"Hey," he whispered. "We could really swing together, you know. Not like Sissy, but, for real."

"No!" she gasped as she pulled herself away from him. "No! I can't! I won't. I-"

Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she whirled away from him and dashed out of the library and across the darkened campus to her apartment.

There, she slammed the door behind her and dashed into the bedroom where she threw herself face down on her bed.

"Oh, no," she gasped aloud. "I won't do it! I can't do it!"

But even as she sobbed her protests, Glendora Adams knew that somehow-some way-her entire life had changed, and that Jack Paris, the young man she had caught fornicating in the library, was directly responsible for that change.

The following morning Glen did not order Sissy Mason to go to Dean Lydecker's office. She was barely able to discharge her teaching duties. She was in a shocked daze throughout the day, and by evening she was in no better state of mind. Because she believed herself unable to face her duties as dormitory mistress and also because she did not think she could bear the emotional strain if any of the girls she had seduced were to visit her apartment, Glen decided to stroll over the campus.

It was a beautiful spring evening. The academy was quiet because it was study period. Most of the girls were in their rooms going over their books and notes in preparation for the final examination period which would be starting in just a few more weeks. The experimental boys had all supposedly left and were doing their studying in their own homes.

Aimlessly, apparently without taking any direction, Glendora found herself strolling toward the playing fields in the general direction of Norton Concort's house. Some magnet seemed to be compelling her toward the administrator's house, but when she noticed the path she was following, she stopped abruptly.

She had no intention of being humiliated by the administrator again and certainly did not want to experience again the shock and disgust of being betrayed by Brigette. She stood without moving for a long moment. The school and trees were behind her, the playing fields before her. Beyond them, the administrator's house.

Again, doubts and confusions assailed her. Who was she? she wondered. What was life really about? She was thirty years old. Her youth was finished, but a great deal of life lay before her. The trouble was, she didn't really know what path to follow. She fought against the notion that men were actually attractive to her. She tried to dismiss and forget the memories of sexual excitement and abandon she nurtured as a result of her recent experiences with men.

Again, fear filled her. She remembered her first terrifying experience when she was in high school. She became conscious of the darkening shadows around her and the coming chill of spring evening. Suddenly, she felt a sense of foreboding. She was sure she was not alone. She could almost feel the pressure of hostile eyes on her. Like a frightened animal, she turned back toward the school and with a quickened pace walked toward the trees which separated her from the main campus.

She had only walked a few yards into the deepening shadows cast by the trees when she saw a male figure standing directly in front of her. Her mind reeled. Part of her wanted to flee in terror back to the playing fields, a more mature part whispered that she was behaving in a childish manner. She stopped.

The man approached.

In the twilight shadows, she could not recognize him for some time. He was almost to her before she realized that he was perhaps the one person she wanted most to avoid. He was the young man she had caught with Sissy Mason in the library-the arrogant, sensuous Jack Paris.

As he approached, she stood immobile and speechless. He frowned slightly as he stopped in front of her to let his dark eyes rove arrogantly over her body.

After a long moment in which she tried desperately to gain some of her self-control and calm the combined surges of fear and physical desire which were fighting their ways through her, she took a deep breath and tried-to make her voice sound authoritative and arrogant.

"Just exactly what are you doing out here?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "This time, I'm just walking," he said. "Don't tell me there's a rule against that too."

"You're supposed to be studying."

"I was," he said. "I'm coming from the library, through the woods to town."

She did not know how to answer him. She started to walk past him, but with a gesture of casual authority, he reached out and took her by the elbow.

"That was a real good blow job yesterday," he said.

"Please," she begged him. "Don't-"

"Don't what?" He sounded almost innocent.

"I'm not interested," she snapped. "I won't! Let me go!"

He turned her around forcibly yet with a certain sensuous gentleness. Their faces were mere inches apart now.

"You're lying to yourself," he told her. "It's in your eyes. It's all over you-in every gesture-every move. I've never seen anyone who wanted to get laid so bad."

"No… I-"

Suddenly his lips were pressing on hen in hot demand. She struggled to push him away, but found that, despite the pressure of her hands on his chest, her lips were actually responding to his, opening to admit the probing length of his exploring tongue as it darted into her mouth, twined with her own, and filled her entire body with tingling desire.

She seemed to be swirling in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions as he pushed her down to the soft grass.

"No-" she tried to say, but the pressure of his lips on hers-the response of her own to his-made it no more than a muffled grunt.

His hands seemed to be all over her now and hers seemed unable to push his muscular young body away. She felt the hot pressure of his palm on her bosom, then the pull of her clothing, and then the flesh of his palm on the very flesh of her hotly excited breast.