Leavers’ Party

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This story was inspired by a real event that I was told had happened at a leavers’ party.


Every year in the middle of July, on the last night of the term after the exams have all finished, the final-year students at the High School where I teach hold a leavers’ party for themselves at one of the clubs in town. By this time of year the vast majority are over 18, so they are able to book one of the night clubs and, strictly speaking, since they have officially left the school that afternoon, there is no need for any teachers to be there; a couple of the younger ones usually go along to be the “official” representatives.

Last year the Head asked for volunteers and so I found myself putting on my party dress and looking forward to a moderately boring evening in the company of a group of people 10 years younger than me who would probably all have too much to drink. My opposite number was one of the English teachers, David, who is discreetly gay and is entertaining company, although not my first choice to spend the evening with!

I thought I would stay until about 11, then get back home for a reasonably early night. By lunchtime the next day I needed to be at the airport as I was going to Australia for 3 weeks, to stay with friends that had emigrated a couple of years before.

The venue was ‘The Back Street Club’, so named for its location away from the main hub of the town and a popular haunt for the 18-25 set, primarily due to its live bands, good dance floor, moderate drink prices and the Back Street Back Room – actually a series of twisting corridors and small rooms in the old building, that provides little nooks and alcoves, all liberally screened by randomly hanging curtains, that with their dim light and background music make it perfect for some discreet kissing, fondling and outright groping.

After the buffet, and a long chat with David, I found myself standing near a corner of the room close to the dance floor, carefully nursing one too many drinks, watching the others dancing and having a good time. My eyes kept being drawn to one particularly handsome young man that I had never taught, but knew as one of the Rugby team from when my ex-boyfriend had been his sports teacher and I had done the girlfriend thing by attending their matches. A few times I saw him eyeing me up, then the next time he looked straight at me, followed by a deliberate appraisal of my body, with his stunningly bright eyes meeting mine afterwards, a wicked gleaming smile making no apology. He started to walk over to me and I smiled back my tacit agreement.

We made some small talk, avoiding the night’s taboo subject of the recent exams, then he asked me if I would like to dance with him.

“Yes,” I said, before my brain had worked out a polite refusal, and before I knew what had happened his warm firm hand had pulled me onto the packed floor.

He was a good dancer and after an initial glance around, establishing that nobody had taken any particular notice of us, I was enjoying the band, the music was making me flow with him. Dancing usually starts to arouse me, and this time it was more intense than normal despite my slight apprehension over being with him. Or maybe because of it.

I was just starting to think I was getting carried away when the band stopped, announcing they were having a break but they would play some recorded ‘smoochy’ numbers for a while. The lights went down low.

“Perhaps you’d like to dance these with a friend?” I enquired, almost unwillingly.

His response, “No, I want you,” should have made me stop and think, but instead I moved towards him as he opened his arms. The music began and I found that after the first minute, when I was slightly reserved, I slowly cuddled up against him, swaying with his movements and pressing myself closer. As we danced I looked up at him; he inclined his head so our lips were almost touching; I didn’t pull back, so he kissed me lightly until his mouth opened, then our tongues entwined and I hugged him tighter, tilting my head slightly aside as the passion rose in me.

We continued kissing for a long time, as his hands moved slowly down to by bum, the heel of his hand pressing whilst his fingers started slow circles against the material of my dress. In a quiet part of the song I heard someone close by quietly say, “he’s feeling her up,” and I knew they were speaking about me, but the drink and touching had made me bold, so I put my hands on his waist and lightly caressed him there through his shirt. He broke the kiss, then nibbled my ear, slowly working down my neck and back to my lips as I moaned and responded to the eroticism of the moment.

Two songs played out back to back as we were consumed with each other in the darkness. He had moved us over to the side of the room and gradually turned me so that my back was to the wall, then he slid his hands down, then slowly up again, this time under my dress, pulling it up at the back and touching my bum cheek through only my flimsy knickers. My own hands ümraniye escort mirrored his, moving down to his hips, below the level of his shirt, then up again, inside it, to touch the bare skin above the waistband of his trousers. This spurred him on and he pulled my hips in towards his crotch, his hands quickly moving up above my knickers to my bare waist, then in the opposite direction down inside them so that he was now caressing bare skin. I could feel my knickers being pushed down at the back as his hands stroked me, rolling and bunching them up into a line of material.

If he pushed them any further they would be falling down. Then his fingers started to move round to the front, slowly pushing them there too, then moving into my hair. I groaned out loud when his fingers brushed briefly almost down to my wet lips. What was I going to do, I wondered. I would have to stop him…., or not, or go further. I was still just rational enough to consider stopping it at that moment. All the time we were still dancing around and I realised we had moved a long way across the room from our starting point. When I looked just behind me I saw the arched entrance to the Back Room. That was it, he had manoeuvred me there for a purpose.

He saw that I had realised and smiled at me, wickedly, then cupped my hairy mound in his hand, wriggling his fingers against my clitoris, slowly and deliberately stroking them into my waiting lips, kissing me at the same time, it was so erotic, but at the same time he was giving me time to stop him. I was poised on the point of no return, I could take a deep breath and push him away, no real harm done, now or never.

The fingers stroked into me again, then he began to ease my knickers down my legs, all the time looking straight into my eyes, watching my reaction.

“You’re not going to stop me?”

When I looked back at him, he could see I was consumed by lust, in thrall to the emotions surging through my body. He looked back at me, I glanced down, saw and touched the physical evidence of his desire.

My heart raced, my mouth was dry, my voice quiet, and I spoke the single word he waited for, “No”. A single word that told him what he wanted to know, that if he got Miss Wilson in the Back room, she was almost certainly going to let him fuck her.

I was pulled through the archway into the deeper darkness beyond, round the corner out of sight, as he gave a final push, propelling my knickers down my legs so that they fell to my ankles, where he scooped them up, stuffing them into his pocket.

It was almost too dark to see, inside the Back Room. We moved quickly past vaguely moving forms, past a young woman with her head thrown back, her breast exposed dimly in the wan light, and somehow found an empty alcove, partially screened by a long curtain.

I had felt the hardness of his cock pressing against my belly in the other room, had just pressed my hand against it through his trousers, but now I touched its bare skin for the first time, exploring its length from his balls to the tip inside his trousers, feeling the slippery fluid there that was ready to ease its way into me. I was completely open to him now, wet, and he pushed two fingers deep up inside me, kissing me deeply as we swayed together. The other hand snaked up my body under my dress, crushing my breast inside my bra. Then he changed tactics and reached down from the top, sometimes making me lift up to my toes with the other hand that was pushing in and out, in and out, as I moaned and pressed my cunt onto his delicious fingers.

One pearly white tit was engulfed in his hand; then his lips were on the nipple, sucking, nibbling, pulling. I was slowly squeezing his cock, stroking up and down its length.

To my right there was a long-cushioned, low, bench seat.

“No, don’t stop,” I groaned with frustration as I was emptied of the probing fingers, then he loosened my bra and pushed it up over the top, so that both breasts hung down free, nipples aching to be teased.

I undid the clasp of his trousers and unzipped them. His cock poked out of his pants, rigid, massive, ready to take me.

He sank down onto the bench, his back to the wall, and I stepped astride him, my thighs spread wide each side, my hand still gripping his cock, guiding it in towards me as I placed the tip at my body, holding it at my lips for a moment, toying with him as he strained upwards, trying to penetrate, to bury the shaft deep inside me.

There was no way I could have stopped then, turned away, cooled down, never felt that cock enter me. I was lost, I would do anything and he knew it. I could see the knowledge in his face, he could do anything he wanted to me. I sank slowly down, stretched wider, filled deeper, plugged tight until there was no further to go. Then he started to thrust into me, and another magnificent inch, maybe two, pushed up inside my willing body.

I cried out at the final upward lunge that filled me utterly, then cupped my hand over my mouth in alarm, muffling the sounds. I squatted pendik escort over him, bracing myself with my hands on the wall, his cock pushing right up inside me on every powerful stroke, my fingers between my lips to stifle the sounds.

The hem of my dress was in his hands and he lifted it up, to take it over my head.

“No, not here” I whispered to him urgently, “somebody might see”. He looked at me, unmoving, waiting for me to comply. Lust said I had no choice. I put my hands up in the air and sat still on his lap, his cock throbbing inside me, then my dress was off and I was suddenly almost naked apart from the bra wrapped around my neck. Then totally naked as he removed that too.

I was facing towards the wall so, although it was not completely dark, I thought that nobody would be able to see see who he was screwing, nobody would know it was a teacher.

“Turn around and kneel.”

I was so desperate for him to continue that in a moment I was facing into the room. Now anyone that was looking would see me, naked, being fucked by Ritchie. I wondered if a crowd would gather, watching.

He mounted me from behind, his cock immediately finding my lips and pushing straight in, copious female juices easing its way deep into my vagina. The scent of female, of sex, of cock coated with my private moisture wafted out from my loins as he fucked me. My face, glowing with passion, crimson with embarrassment faced out towards the room. I knew if I was glimpsed, the waterfall of my hair hanging in front of me would perhaps hide my identity.

I imagined voyeurs on the fringes of the room, no girlfriends of their own. “Ritchie’s fucking Miss Wilson,” they would be saying, whispering and pointing at my writhing naked form, inhaling the scent of sex.

With one hand he started to stroke my clitoris, circling, circling, rubbing from side to side. I felt the delicious tension starting to rise, the way I love to come, with a cock filling me, the most exquisite way to orgasm of all.

Then his other hand gripped my hair from behind, pulling my head back, tilting my face up towards the room.

“Don’t hide your face,” he said.

Anyone looking our way would see us. I was now so turned on that I almost wanted to be seen, shaking my head so that my hair was thrown back, moaning with lust as I rocked back against him, slapping my bum against his thighs.

Images flowed through my head. The watchers were students and I was in the lab, teaching them about human reproduction with a practical example.

He was noisier now himself, rising up towards his climax, but I was there first, the rippling contractions flooding my senses, mouth open, gasping, eyes wide, staring into the darkened room, catching glimpses of other eyes looking my way, drawn by the noises I was only half trying not to make.

“Oh, oh yes, uhhngg, don’t stop, unnngg, I’m coming, ahhh, ahhh.”

I am so sensitive immediately afterwards, his cock felt gigantic; I wanted it hard, very hard and fast, and he obliged for another twenty or thirty strokes, then could not hold it back and came inside me, a sudden warm wetness as creamy semen was injected high inside my body, bathing my still quivering cervix with ten or more powerful spurting loads.

I had my fingers on my clitoris, rubbing it in the way I knew would make me come again, so quickly; the pictures in my head heightening the erotic urge.

The orgasm overwhelmed me; I fell forward onto the padded bench, my tits pressed against it, with him still on top of me, still hard.

Slowly he subsided and I was empty again, apart from the liquid he left behind, that coated my insides, had flooded into the entrance to my womb. I turned over and he lay on top of me, kissing my lips and breasts.

He stood and handed me my bra and crumpled dress.

I slipped them on and tried to straighten my hair.

In the glare of the lights in the women’s toilet I made a better job and emerged looking vaguely presentable. David was nowhere to be seen, so I went to get another drink, cold lager to quench my thirst. With no knickers I could feel his semen slowly seeping through my lips, running down my legs. I hoped if I remained standing it would not leave a wet patch on my dress.

Looking around, it appeared nobody was taking much notice of me.

Soon it would be time to go home.

“Do you live in town?”

“Yes, just the other side of the park.”

“Shall I walk you home, through the park?”

I was instantly turned on, just by his voice and thoughts of the park. It would be dark; grass, trees, hedgerows.

I turned to him. “Only if you intend to fuck me in the park when we get there.”

He appeared surprised by my forthright language. I smiled; I still was the more experienced one, I had the upper hand.

In the park the grass was cool against my hot naked body. I lay on my back with my legs on his shoulders, his cock rock hard again, tip to root pumping in me, stretching me open, pushing deeper inside me any semen bostancı escort still there from earlier. He made me lie spread-eagled on a shallow bank, in full view of anyone walking along the distant road past the park at that early hour, then he lay fully outstretched on top of me, hiding me from view and slowly kissing me from head to toe. I held the base of his cock with two hands and guided it into me; there was still as much again buried in my dripping cunt.

In the park I could make as much noise as I liked; there was another couple a distance away and we inspired each other, when she squealed I squealed in reply, I recognised her voice in those moments and wondered if she knew mine. He moved me to where they could see us, had me spread my legs open wide towards them, then wrap them round his back; had me on my knees facing them; standing sideways on to them as I sucked on his cock. Finally half standing, leaning forward with one foot up on the park bench so that they could see it sliding in and out of my body.

When he came again there was as much as the first time; all inside me, no use in preventing it the second time. White creamy fluid coating his shaft as he withdrew.

I was too exhausted to shower when I got home and flopped straight into bed.

I woke to the sound of knocking on my door. I had forgotten to set my alarm clock. Semen ran down my leg when I jumped out of bed, hastily throwing on a dressing gown and opening the door to my friend Anne, who had offered to drive me to Heathrow airport. I barely had enough time to shower, grab the bags I had already packed and leap into her car; we made it just in time for me to check in and go straight through security to the gate. No time to go to the pharmacy for the morning after pill.

The ‘plane landed at Bangkok. I had to stay in the transit lounge; no pharmacy to go to.

On the plane, I dozed. I was in my lab, naked and kneeling on all fours on the bench at the front of the class with Ritchie behind me, his wonderful cock pressed to the hilt inside me.

“Do you see how he forces his penis deeper into me? It’s part of the primitive urge, the mating imperative, he wants to get the tip as close to my womb as he can. Can you see how engorged it is, how my lips stretch round the shaft, sealing it in. I feel as if I will orgasm soon. Does anyone know the purpose of the female orgasm?”

“Is it to make you more receptive to sex, Miss? So that you want to do it more and more, to make sure you keep doing it until you get pregnant?”

“That’s a very good answer, Sarah.”

“I’m near now. The erectile tissue in my clitoris is engorged, making it bigger and more sensitive. Come up and feel how hard it is.”

Two at a time they stood either side, the female students finding it straight away, a quick touch from some but the less inhibited rubbing it exquisitely. The young men groping around, some in completely the wrong place, so that I had to take their fingers and find it for them; others running their fingers through my hair, massaging the little nub until I groaned with frustration when they stopped; pressing fingers against my lips where the solid cock thrust into me, the strokes now more urgent, deeper, faster.

“He doesn’t seem to be wearing a condom. Are you on the pill, Miss?”

“No, Janet, I stopped taking that several months ago, after I split with my boyfriend.

For next time, I want you to write an essay describing in detail what will happen to my body over the next months, starting at the moment his sperm enters my vagina.”

They thought about it for a few moments. Sarah had another question.

“Well, Miss, we would need to know, we would need to know some dates.”

She didn’t want to say it in front of the male students.

“Yes, you would need to know when my last period started, to see if it’s likely I will conceive,” I thought about it for a moment and continued, “you can assume that I will.”

Sarah was last, and was stroking my clit deliciously, looking into my eyes. She made no secret of her bisexuality; everybody new.

She bent her head nearer. I was overwhelmed with lust now, I wanted to kiss her. She could see it and she smiled.

“Oh god, Sarah, don’t stop now, I pleaded.”

I started to come, intensely; Sarah’s eyes blazed with triumph; Ritchie started to come too, the warm fluid spurting inside me. I lifted my head towards Sarah, she put her other hand on my shoulder and our lips met, open, tongues entwined.

I woke up, my legs twitching as I came. The stewardess had her hand on my shoulder, shaking me slightly.

“We are serving a meal now, would you like some?”

I was panting from my dream orgasm, the airline blanket over my lap, my hand in my crotch, knickers damp, pushed to one side by my probing fingers. I wondered if she had seen anything.

“Yes please.”

I sat up and lowered the tray. She smiled back and put the breakfast down, thoroughly professional.

My friends met me at the airport; I had intended to ask them to stop at a pharmacy, wondering if the morning-after pill was available over the counter in Australia. But travel-weary I dozed in their car and, before I knew it, we were out into deserted country, then another two hours deeper and at their place.

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