y damned cold. "Brrr! Shit, is it always this cold when you swim here?" I asked her, shivering wildly at first. "Yes, yes," she answered stretching her arms and swinging her tits from side to side. "I love it like this… so cold, it’s exhilarating!" "Sure it is," I shivered some more. We moved into deeper water, against my better judgement, till we were up almost to our shoulders. Miss Honeywell’s enormous boobs floated up in front of her. I swam up and rested my head on them. She laughed. I embraced her, and felt a delicious thrill as my cock slapped up against the soft, round belly. I put my hand between us, and tugged on her soft, round belly. I put my hand between us, and tugged on her soft bush as it drifted out in the water, uncurled and silky. "Hey, I'm not feeling so cold any more," I told her, cuddling up close, kissing her on the ear. "Neither… am I," she said quietly. I lifted up her left boob and caressed it with my tongue. I bit down on the nipple, and felt it stiffen even more, fighting my attack. "It… it's so nice here." Miss Honeywell muttered shyly, not knowing what to say in such circumstances, I guess. But that was all right with me. We communicated best on a non-verbal level, I felt. With her mouth shut she was quite a woman, full of soft flesh and fire. My prick rapidly went stiff against her lush body, the head swelling out and up, pressing against the plump, soft curve of her tummy. She rubbed her stomach against me, delighting in the sexy feel of my cock on her skin. Very carefully, so as not to damage it, I suppose, she reached down and felt the head of my prick. When she touched it, her whole body shivered. Her nostrils flared and she gulped loudly. Then she squeezed it again, and her fingers moved down along the long shaft, right down to the edge of my balls, which she stretched her fingers towards and scratched. "Shit, that's nice," I moaned, grinding up tighter, letting my balls slap against her pussy hair. "Are you… are you going to fuck me, Mr. Eastman?" she asked, in a tone of awe. "You want me to, don't you, baby?” I smiled. I wanted to hear her say it, to admit it to herself as well as to me. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Yes… oh yes, I want to be fucked!" "Ha ha! Then I'll be happy to oblige!" I put my hands under her wide buttocks and lifted her up in the water. She spread her legs and locked them around my waist. I reached in for my prick and bent it till it touched the edge of her pussy. She gasped, and shuddered in my arms, in my arms as I fed the cock up into her clenching channel. Her fingers dug into my naked shoulder. Her eyes closed. Her ass cheeks vibrated and splashed water over us. "No, don't close your eyes. Miss Honeywell. Open them. Look at me when I fuck you. Look at me and tell me what you feel. Tell me, baby, tell me." "It feels…it feels so very good, oh yes, wonderful… all the way, put it in all the way…" I let her slide onto me the rest of the way. She shook all over. I spread her cheeks and lifted her in a rhythmic bounce» up and down on my cock. "Ugggg! Yes, yes, fuck me! Oh, Mr. Eastman, your cock feels so good, so hard, so big…" I rammed into her, harder and harder, creating waves in the water, splashing about us from the pressure of each plunge. Again and again I shoved up into her frantic pussy. It clung tightly to me, little teeth clawing along my shaft as it worked its way in and out. "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck my cunt!" the generally prim young lady shouted wildly. I bounced her up and down for a while, but she became so unhinged that we kept slipping deeper into the water. It got so I was afraid we would drown, so I told her to come out and we would continue on dry land. We flattened out her bush jacket and she stretched out on it. She opened her cunt for me, and it was obvious what she wanted right then. So I got down on my side below her and pressed my face in between her fleshy thighs. I pecked at the thighs, pulling on the soft skin there, working my way slowly towards her wet, undulating pussy. I pushed my tongue towards it, touching the hairs that ran along the sides of the labes. I dragged my tongue across the hot womanhood, and I pushed on into the hole, licking in short, hard jabs around and around, in and out, making her jump and spasm. All around I moved my tongue, lashing and digging, slapping and burrowing into the wet recesses of my lovely, horny science teacher. Her knees smashed against my ears, locking my head in tight against her with her thighs. A little tighter and she would be choking the air out of me-but what a way to go! Smothered by beautiful pussy. Her outsized clitoris was growing tauter and tauter each time I licked at it, caressed it carefully and elegantly with my long tongue. I looked up at her to see how she was taking it all, and I saw a face all contorted with pleasure. She was grinding her teeth and closing her eyes tight, wrinkling her nose up, snorting and whining. And she was coming like crazy, drooling milky come all over my face. "Yes, yes, eat me! Tongue me! Oh, that's lovely!" she cried out. "It's wonderful! It feels so…" I lapped on, with increasing speed, breaking all records, or so it seemed from the strain my tongue was feeling. The tough, flexing jaws of her pussy closed and opened and clamped down on my inserted face like she was biting at me, trying to chop my tongue off and keep it forever. I felt my own cock growing back to the erect state once more, so excited was I by the smell and taste of her cunt as well as her tumultous reaction to my sucking. She stroked my hair and touched my face, even stretched a couple of fingers in to touch my lips and tongue, to see what exactly was causing her cunt so much pleasure. She screamed out loud, and an onlooker might?have thought I was literally devouring that humming, quaking pussy, causing her pain instead of sweet pleasure. Around and r around in tight circles my tongue moved through her clutching, quivering crotch. She lurched up, practically into the air, and twisted me around sideways with her, keeping me locked between her wet, tingling thighs. It was hard for me to keep on sucking, like swimming through a storm at sea. I stroked and stroked, snorting in my breath, trying to keep from being crushed by the waves of her orgasm. "Oh! Oh! Ahhhhhh!" she groaned. "Oh, fucking god! I'm… I'm coming, Mr. Eastman, I'm really coming!" As if I didn't know! But my tongue wasn't?going to hold out for much longer. I licked for another minute, till she was past the peak of this particular climax, then I slowed my oral attack, and slowly slid my tongue and face out from the girl's hot, hot box. My cock was far from worn out, and I thought it was about time I went inside her with something harder and larger than my tongue. She had had a taste of it in the water before, but now I was up and throbbing, and ready to give her my best, if she could stop shaking long enough to take it. "Miss Honeywell," I sighed, "I have sucked a lot of cunts in my time, but you have got to be one of the most memorable. No, I correct myself, the most memorable!" "Th-thank you," she said, just a trace of shame in her voice, but not much, not now, after she had a taste of what real sexual ecstasy could be. In fact, I had a good idea that I had made another convert to the ranks of promiscuity. There was no telling what Miss Honeywell would need to satisfy her after I got done. It often happens that way when a woman holds out from regular sexual activity till she's thirty or more. Those are the ones you have to watch out for, if you value your health and your virility, as I surely do. "But we're only just starting," I told her. "Get ready for the final act, baby." “Fuck me now? Fuck me for real?" she whispered, her body all atremble. "That's the ticket," I said. Just to give you an idea of how horny this chick was, while I sat back away from her, getting into position to fuck her and taking a few deep breaths before I did, she stuck several fingers into her twat, pushing them in deep and revolving them, working up that white lather my sucking duties had already produced. She gasped and moaned and licked at her lips. She made herself so hot that she couldn't even wait for me to catch my breath. Her free hand reached up and grabbed my erect pole, scratching her nails into the base of it, tickling the hairy hanging sacs beneath it. "Hey, take it easy, baby," I cautioned her, afraid she might go out of her skull completely and rip my prick off. She took hold of the cock about midway down and jerked on it, getting the sperm dribbling down so it would be nice and wet when I came to stick it into her. It would have been pure sadism to make her wait any longer, so I shimmied up against the open gash. She kept her hold on my cock even then, and with her other hand encircled my bare, clenching buttocks. She pushed several fingers into the cleft between my cheeks, scratching through the tangled hairs and touching my asshole. "Fuck me, fuck me," she mumbled feverishly. She bent my organ downward, down to the hairy lips and in through the sweating, pulsing portals. The cunt squeezed in on me immediately, and it sent a thrill like an electric shock stinging through my body. I held it there where she caught me, three or four inches inside, and I began to move it around in small circles, around and around a half dozen times or so, loosening her up, building up my strength. And then I lunged up, really giving it to her, driving my entire length into her. She gasped and her head shook about raggedly as she screamed, "Yes, yes, that's -"the way!" I arched back, letting my cock slide out again as far as the head. And then I jammed it all back in on another powerful, violent drive. She tossed about below me, nearly out of her mind from the pleasure of it. Again I arched back, and I could feel her cunt draining its fluid, the sticky juice flowing over her thighs, sticking in the hairs on my testicles,her cunt emptying out as I took my cock out. And then I stabbed the whole throbbing yard back through her boiling, bubbling center. Back and forth, in and out, increasing speed as I gathered my strength, sucked in a deep breath. The long, hard shaft of my cock flowed back and forth through her sexual plumbing like a piston, in and out, again, again. I felt my tides rising, my balls tightening, ready to explode inside that deep channel. I had been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours, and I was not in shape for any sheer endurance tests. But that was all right: Miss Honeywell had gotten more than her share of pleasure out of our relationship, and I couldn't be faulted for my performance, no matter how physically exhausted it left me. My pumping still went faster and faster, moving for the finish line. Miss Honeywell widened her thighs as far as she could, leaving her cunt open so far I could sink inside her practically to the hips. I pounded her, again, again, drilling that lovely scientist's orgasmic pussy, feeling her erupt around me, heated, flooded. Now she lifted her ass up off the ground and smacked her groin against mine. It was like two trains crashing together, the force of it rattling through us from head to toe. Her cunt sheathed my stabbing sword right up to the hilt. In and out, fucking, pumping, back and forth. She clawed at my bare back, but I couldn't feel anything but pleasure, flowing up from my crotch, filling my head. On and on it went, there in the woods, by the stream, with nothing but all of nature watching us. All good things must come to an end, and in this case it ended with me coming. Sperm poured out of me, and I pumped up hard against her. Another discharge followed close, even more of the hot liquid this time. It took my breath away. I thought I was going to pass out. Miss Honeywell, needless to say, screamed wildly, her nails gripping my clenching buttocks, holding me tight against her cunt as she caught each burst of sperm. And I still pumped, back and forth, my come ripping through her, turning her insides into a river, flooded with my boiling, steaming essence. At last it subsided. I collapsed in her arms and she held me tightly against her. "Great, just great," I panted inanely at her. "Y-yes," she agreed. I sneezed convulsively, right in her face, sad to say. Then I rolled off of her and sat up. It was really much too chilly on that mountain for lying around in the nude, even though these particular circumstances were worth a certain risk. And I didn't want to catch something that could infect the whole school, and all those fragile teenyboppers. "We better get dressed," I said, and informed her of my fears. "We don’t want to catch pneumonia, Miss Honeywell. I don’t think Mr. Hoag would appreciate that.” "No," she smiled shyly. "I don't suppose he would understand, if we both happened to catch it at the same time. It might make him a little suspicious about the circumstances of this nature hike we've taken." "Is Mr. Hoag the suspicious type?" "In a way." "What way?" "Oh, he changes. Moody, you might say. Sometimes he is very charming and friendly, the perfect employer or host, like last night, for instance. But he does have a temper. Sometimes, if he becomes angered by a student or a teacher he can become almost violent. Sometimes, very violent." "Like when?" "Well, once he thrashed a girl, actually struck her several times. She had done something wrong, some minor infringement of the rules, and he was scolding her in his office. She became surly, or so he claims, and he slapped her. She then used some vile language on him and he began to beat her, slapping her in the face and punching her in the chest." "What did the girl do?" "Nothing, as far as I know. She wasn't very big, no, a very petite girl, as I recall, and I suppose she was so shocked by what was happening that she couldn't think to do anything except try and protect herself. Well, really," Miss Honeywell sighed, "it was quite an extraordinary thing to have happen, unprecedented you might say." "Who broke up this weird brawl?" "His secretary and the receptionist heard the commotion and looked in. Mr. Hoag fell back away from the girl, and he was all pink-I mean, pinker than he usually is. He was shaken, and the receptionist thought he was having a stroke." "And what about the girl?" "Yes, the girl… when they came in, she was curled up under a chair. The odd thing was, so Linda told me, that the girl had her dress pushed up above her waist, and her panties were halfway down her bottom. They assumed that she had gotten that way during the struggle, and didn't think anything of it. Mr. Hoag, when they get him into his chair, started shouting that the child was a witch and had cursed him and thrown things at him. He told them to take her out and have her expelled at once, sent home. The two women didn't want him any more upset than he was, so they ushered her out, but just as she was leaving, the girl screamed that Mr. Hoag was… a dirty rapist!" "Aha! So the old goat was trying to sow some senile oats on the poor nymphet, but she wouldn't have it. That's very interesting. Puts the old bastard in a whole new light. What did you say the girl's name was?" "Her name? It was Vicki… yes, Vicki Gray." "Vicki Gray," I repeated, storing the name away as I always did interesting information like that; one never knows when it might come in handy. "We didn't believe the girl," Miss Honeywell said, reaching out for some of her articles of clothing. "Linda said she was probably just trying to get even with Hoag for hitting her and expelling her. She never repeated the charge anywhere, so we assumed she was lying. You don't… you don't really think it could be the truth, do you?" "No… no, I doubt it. Why would an old coot like that want one of the young ones? He's got an attractive wife already. She's probably more than enough for him." "I don't think Mrs. Hoag is very happy," she said. "Why not?" I said innocently, knowing quite well one reason why Mrs. Hoag wasn't happy. It took a strapping fellow like myself to bring a little happiness into her lovelorn life. And I think she would have enjoyed a lot more of the same. "I don't think they have a very good marriage. He loves her, I suppose, in his way, but he resents her youth and vitality and his growing infirmity." "Then he should have married somebody, older than he is, then he could always feel young by comparison." Miss Honeywell chuckled. "But men don't usually do that, do they? No, an attractive woman like Mrs. Hoag seemed… well, more attractive to him as a prospective wife." "And why would an attractive woman marry him?" "Oh, I don't like to gossip, Mr. Eastman. But I suppose the fact that Mr. Hoag is a very wealthy man increases his appeal.