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School Teacher's Holiday
Chapter One"Miss Parsons, the gas station guy is over there behind the rest room," Mary Ellen said excitedly as she came running back to the van, "and he's doing something weird!""Where's Roberta?" their teacher asked the blonde 13-year-old."She's still in the John.""Get into the van, dear, and I'll take a look," Lizbeth replied. Since she had been hired to bring the two young girls on the Christmas vacation junket to California, while their parents did adult things on the Riviera, she felt it was her duty to know what was happening every minute. That meant, in the present instance, to make sure Roberta wasn't being pestered by the station attendant.He was the kind of kid that Lizbeth didn't like—pimply faced and, she suspected, sneaky. She hadn't cared for the way he had looked at her and the girls when he had come out of the secluded rural station to put gas in their van. Right after the girls had gone to the restroom, the attendant had disappeared inside the station—and evidently out through a back door, if what Mary Ellen had just reported was correct.The 25-year-old teacher arranged the tumbling waves of ash-blonde hair around her shoulders and set out toward the cubicle marked Ladies, at the far end of the station's only structure. As she walked, her beige knit dress lovingly embraced the prominent rolling curves of her bottom. The just-as-prominent globes on her chest quivered restlessly.She moved up to the corner of the ladies rest room and stealthily peeked around it. Her blue-green eyes widened, and her pink lips formed a shocked 0.The lanky station attendant was bent forward, his eye to a hole in the wall, obviously peeping into the rest room. His jeans gaped. Jutting out was a long, bonelike protrusion which exceeded Lizbeth's wildest imaginings of what an erect penis would be like. Mature as she was, she had led a sheltered life as a teacher at a private school in a small Alabama town, and she had never seen a man's lovemaker.She stared and became throbby inside— not only from the sight of the youth's horny penis, but because of what he was doing with it. The nasty kid was pumping his hand on the iron-hard, uplifted shaft while the rosy knob at its end swelled with, each down-stroke, bulging like a ripe, juicy tomato!How utterly filthy! Lizbeth thought. Yet for some perverse reason, she was thrilled.She remained watching, getting more emotionally involved by the moment until the door of the rest room opened and, from the corner of her eye, she saw dark-haired Roberta emerge and hurry back toward the van. The youth straightened, still clutching his erection, and Lizbeth had to back up quickly, lest he catch her watching him.Her heart pounded, and her nerves were aflutter. She was seized by a giddy impulse which made her do something she would not have believed herself capable of: She rushed into the rest room and tremblingly shut the door. As she turned her back to the potty, she glimpsed the hole in the wall just above it and—yes! The kid's eye was at the hole again.Oh, goodness!Lizbeth pulled up her knit skirt and, because the garment was so clinging, it rose slowly, slithering along her stockings. Her tapering thighs expanded the tops of her filmy nylons, which were cinched by garter clips. The narrow white straps attached to the garters pressed against her firm, creamy-toned thighs as they extended up to the white lace edging of her pink panties.She hauled her skirt all the way to her waist and stuck her bottom backward, right toward the hole in the wall. Her plumply rounded buttocks stretched her thin panties to near bursting.Stroke your nasty, stiff cock, you dirty boy! she thought obscenely, and she waggled her bottom above the John, feeling her buttocks wobble in her silk pants.Oh, my! she thought, blushing wildly. Nasty is right! I'm nasty!BUT I DON'T CARE!Remaining bent forward, with her backside aimed right at the hole in the wall, she peeled her panties away from her bottom. She felt a catch in her throat as she knew that the masturbating kid could see her most treasured possession.Do you like my PUSSY? she mentally asked, thinking a word she would never have dared utter. The hairs on it are really blonde, aren't they? And silky, too! How about my pink slit, where no man has ever stuck his nasty thing?Would YOU like to stick your long, stiff thing into ME? I'll bet you would!She was tingling intensely by that time, and she couldn't resist the urge to do something even more nasty—to grasp her springy-soft buttocks and spread them wide apart.See my asshole! she thought. Oh God, do you LIKE it? I think it's so cute, with its little brownish puckers that come together in a pink tiny pout.Would you LICK it, you dirty guy?Shaking inside and blushing furiously, Lizbeth sat on the John—right down on it, which was something she usually didn't do in strange toilets. But she had to this time, because she had to pretend to pee. She didn't want the station attendant to think she had come into the rest room for no legitimate purpose because then he might suspect that she knew he was watching, which would be awful! She couldn't really urinate, however— not as excited as she was!She didn't sit on the pot very long, because she was anxious to show the kid her pretty ass once again, while she went through the motions of wiping it. Her hand shook as she snatched some toilet tissue, and she rubbed the softness of her blonde-haired pussy. She rubbed her little asshole, also, because it felt good. Then she dropped the paper into the John, flushed it, and pulled her panties up. She wiggled her clingy skirt down.Lizbeth rushed from the rest room, drenched with shame. Whatever had possessed her to behave so wickedly? How could she face the attendant when he came to collect for the gas?Even worse, in a way, was how her body felt—all tight and tingly."Where were you, Miss Parsons?" pert Roberta Travis asked from a window of the van."I had to go to the rest room," the flushed and nervous teacher replied. "Didn't you see me coming out of there?""But you said you didn't have to go," Roberta reminded her."Oh, for goodness sake!" Lizbeth exclaimed. "What difference does it make?"She got back into the van which bore the neatly lettered inscription, Sunny Slope School, Baxter, Alabama. It was an integration escaper which the better-off white families of Baxter used."Did you see that guy?" Mary Ellen leaned past Lizbeth's shoulder to whisper, indicating that it was a secret shared by just the two of them."Yes ... uuh . ..""Here he comes!" Mary Ellen announced suddenly, and sat back."That'll be nine-eighty," the station attendant said as he glanced guiltily at Lizbeth, then at the 14-year-old dark-haired girl who sat beside her. Showing through his bashfulness was a sly twinkle, as if he felt he had gotten the better of them.Lizbeth fumbled with a credit card which one of the girls' parents had given her, and she tried to avoid the kid's eyes. She was still blushing as she thought: He saw my ASSHOLE and everything!He made no remark as she signed the sales ticket, but just kept watching her slyly.Lizbeth was glad to step on the gas and be gone from there."Well, what was he doing, Miss Parsons?" the blonde 13-year-old behind her asked."Who? What?" Roberta spoke up. "What're all these secrets?""It was, uh. .. nothing, girls," their teacher said, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she guided the van along a scenic secondary highway. "Now let's be quiet and enjoy the scenery."Neither girl seemed satisfied by the answer, and they glanced at each other inquisitively.The trio arrived in San Diego late that afternoon, and Lizbeth rented a double motel room.As they were getting ready for bed, and Roberta was in the bathroom, Mary Ellen approached her teacher."Miss Parsons .. ." the adolescent began hesitantly, "maybe I shouldn't keep asking, but I really do want to know what that guy at the gas station was doing."Lizbeth stared at the innocent young girl and realized she would have to respond. Still, she chose to weasel a bit."What did you actually see?" she asked Mary Ellen."Well, he was standing in back of the rest room, kind of bent over, and something huge was sticking out of his pants! I really didn't see it good, because I didn't want to stare." "I'm glad!" Lizbeth said. "What was that, Miss Parsons?" "You don't know?"The blonde 13-year-old shook her head."Well, it was . .." Lizbeth averted her eyes and blushed as she continued, "his penis, darling. It was big and stiff because .. . well, he was excited. And he was playing with it. He's a nasty boy!""Why was he playing with his penis?" Mary Ellen asked. "Don't boys just go bathroom through that?"The child was even more naive than Lizbeth had thought. Having to explain everything was making the teacher hot again. She wished that she could rub herself."Boys have sex with their penises, too," Lizbeth said, then got a bit carried away and blurted, "They stick them into girls!" Instantly ashamed of her bluntness, the troubled teacher sought to put the onus on Mary Ellen by asking angrily, "Hasn't your mother told you anything?"The child shook her head. Now she was blushing, also."Well, darling, it's nothing to worry about," Lizbeth said, regretting her harshness. "As I told you, he's a nasty boy.""B-but, Miss Parsons ... why was he doing what he was doing?"Lizbeth, whose nerves were raw, exploded, "Because it felt good, I guess! For goodness sake, Mary Ellen, don't you ever play with yourself?""How could I?" the child asked, coloring more strongly. "I don't have a penis!"Roberta emerged from the bathroom just in time to hear the last few words, and she laughed, "Don't you mean a cock? And I hope yon don't have one! Wow!""Roberta!" the teacher exclaimed. "Where did you pick up that filthy language?""Everybody says cock," the more forward and slightly older of the two adolescents declared. She added with a wise look as she sashayed past, "Even you sometimes, I'll bet."That girl is going to be a real problem before we get home! Lizbeth feared. She already had been called upon to scold the child for flirting with boys.That's probably what happened at the gas station, the teacher surmised. While she was waiting for Mary Ellen to get out of the rest room, Roberta most likely preened in front of that pimply faced kid, and that's what set him off.But I waggled MY BEHIND at him, didn't I? Lizbeth recalled painfully. And with my panties pulled down! God!By the time Lizbeth was in bed, alone, and the light was out, she was in such a state that she couldn't resist indulging in her favorite vice. It was her only one until today, when she had exposed herself to the masturbating boy. Would she ever forgive herself for that?She stealthily glided her right hand underneath the covers and worked her nightgown up. She trailed her fingertips along a satiny thigh and enjoyed the responsive tingle, then let her thighs glide apart.Moving cautiously, so as not to alert her two charges who were lying in the other bed, Lizbeth began to stroke the fur on her soft, warm pussy. That felt so good that she opened the supple lips of her sex organ and touched the tip of her clitoris, finding it already slick. Her finger glided between her velvet folds and encountered more moisture. She was a veritable swamp down there!As she began to masturbate purposefully, her thoughts flooded into a familiar channel: She was on a bed, spread-eagled, and tied to all four posts. She was nude.Her captors were masked and wore shapeless garments that were all alike. But each—and there were four or five of them— revealed a single part of his anatomy, sticking out and upward through a flap of his robe, just as the penis of the service station attendant had stuck out of his pants. The penises which Lizbeth now imagined were more lifelike than before, thanks to her glimpse of the young fellow's organ—and larger, too! She hadn't realized that cocks got so huge.In her fervid fantasy, the robed and hooded figures closed in on her helpless, supine form. Then she felt their hands—stroking, pawing and plucking at her charms, particularly her full breasts which were so lively that they wobbled at a mere touch. The evil creatures stretched her rosy nipples and let them snap back.Lizbeth throbbed. Her fingertip, on her slippery little love-bump, was going like crazy, spurred by her imaginings and spurring them at the same time. The robed figures became bolder and more wicked, taking turns at poking their fingers between her spread legs until they had her bobbing up and down on the bed, straining against her cruel bonds.She hated what they were doing. But her very revulsion seemed to make the thrill more intense. And the fact that she was bound relieved her of any responsibility for the way she felt.Her vagina, which she imaginarily had relieved of its virginal obstruction, accepted one plunging finger after another into the deeply quaking cavity. Lizbeth tossed her head, causing her blonde hair to whip about, and she bucked furiously against the ropes which tied her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. The men continued to paw at her bouncing breasts and to stroke her thighs . . . even to reach underneath her and caress her quivery buttocks.Finally the climactic phase of the strange conquest arrived as the robed men knelt between Lizbeth's tights, one after another, and drove their turgid penises into her slippery, throbbing cunt. She thrilled wildly, from the mere imagining of what it would be like to have a fat, iron-hard cock plugging her body and stroking briskly (as her finger now did against her love-tip). And not just one cock, but one after another. . . slamming into her . . . sinking deeply . . . stroking with animalistic fervor . . . while she was forced to take it!She gaspingly squirmed between the covers as the imaginary males lustfully fucked her . .. until finally her real frustration was satisfied in a burst of warm pleasure which left her feeling guilty . .. but at rest. She fell asleep.Chapter TwoMEXICO STRAIGHT AHEAD-LAST CHANCE FOR U.S., the sign proclaimed, and Lizbeth prepared to turn off the freeway."Oh, let's go, Miss Parsons!" Mary Ellen begged."Yes, Miss Parsons!" Roberta added. "I want to get some souvenirs."Lizbeth considered the matter as the van rolled along in the right-hand lane, approaching the off-ramp. Perhaps they should take a look at Mexico, as long as they were so close to the border, she thought. People went back and forth all the time, she understood, so it had to be safe. Tijuana was just like an American town, she imagined."All right," she told the girls, and changed lanes. "But we're only going to stay for an hour or so. We want to take in Sea World this afternoon."The young girls squealed and clapped their hands at the prospect of visiting a foreign country, if only for a short time.Lizbeth was a bit apprehensive, because she, like most Americans, had read the horror stories in the newspapers concerning U. S. citizens held in stinking Mexican jails, sometimes being tortured and deprived of due process. But those were just dopers, she reassured herself. Who cared what happened to them? The Mexicans wouldn't bother her and her girls. And if on some odd chance she did encounter trouble, there would be an American nearby to offer help. Why, Tijuana was practically a suburb of San Diego.The large gates of the border loomed ahead of her, and Lizbeth's nervousness increased, though she considered it foolish. She prepared herself to answer the questions which she believed would be posed by the border guards: Why was she entering Mexico? How long did she intend to stay?To her surprise, no officer stopped her on the American side, and the knot of uniformed Mexicans on their side of the line simply waved her through.It was the simplest thing imaginable, just like driving from one American neighborhood to another, and it reinforced Lizbeth's assumption that Tijuana was more American than Mexican.But as she looked around at the motley assortment of odd structures, dirt side streets, pavement with chuckholes—and at the dark, sometimes hostile faces that stared back at her—she had to revise her judgment. She definitely was not in the United States. What amazed her was that the transition had occurred so abruptly, yet smoothly.The girls obviously were fascinated by what they saw around them."What does that sign say, Miss Parsons?" Mary Ellen asked as she pointed to a large billboard just ahead.French was Lizbeth's foreign language, although she knew a few Spanish words and phrases."Well, cerveza means beer," she said, "so I guess that's what they're advertising.""We know that!" Roberta replied snippily. "There's a beer bottle in the picture.""How about that little sign ahead?" the younger girl asked."Alto? Why, that means .. . stop!" Lizbeth recalled just in time to avoid colliding with a rattletrap taxi which passed in front of them, billowing a cloud of acrid exhaust.Somehow they had gotten off the main route and were in a particularly sleazy part of town. Lizbeth had to steer around holes in the narrow; ragged-edged pavement."Look out for that dog!" Mary Ellen cried as a mangy-looking mongrel scurried across their path. They narrowly missed it.Lizbeth's attention had been diverted by a group of male idlers in front of a bar, who gazed at her with obvious lust. They were dark-skinned and slovenly, and their looks made her shiver. She had read that Latins were especially attracted to blondes. Perhaps it wasn't safe for her and the girls— particularly young, platinum-haired Mary Ellen—to be there."I think we'd better turn around and go back, girls," she said."Oh, no!" Mary Ellen cried."Not until we've looked in the shops!" Roberta added."Well .. ."They stopped for a signal at what appeared to be a main street, and Lizbeth noted some curio shops across the way. She also saw Americans walking into them.This ought to be reasonably safe, she concluded, and made a right turn after the signal had changed to green. She felt fortunate to find a parking space at the curb, and she headed into it. Surprisingly, the street was broad enough to permit vertical parking on both sides and still allow four lanes for traffic."Now I want you girls to listen carefully," Lizbeth said before opening the door of the van. "You're to remain with me every minute. There'll be no wandering away. Do you understand?""Yes, Miss Parsons," Mary Ellen dutifully replied.But Roberta was already hopping out of the van, drawing a glance from a Mexican fellow on the sidewalk as she flashed her bare teenaged thighs.Lizbeth had never seen so many men just standing around. Didn't they have jobs, she wondered?"Come along, girls," she said, and herded her two charges in front of her. Her striking bottom undulated in a clingy blue skirt.She didn't notice the tall, slender Latin, impeccably groomed, who watched her closely from behind shaded glasses. He turned to a man in cheap pants and shirt and said in Spanish: "That one, my friend, with the beautiful, plump ass. I would wager that she is a real blonde—no? And she has those delightful youngsters with her. It is a rare package deal; wouldn't you say?"The nondescript Mexican in simple garb shrugged and sauntered to the vehicle from which he had watched Lizbeth and the girls alight. His friend, who remained standing on the sidewalk, lit a long, thin cigar.Meanwhile, Lizbeth and her charges had entered a shop."Ooh, look at that baby bull!" Roberta cried, spying a brightly painted plaster toy which was displayed at ceiling height in a corner of the store. She immediately raced up an intersecting aisle, headed toward it."Roberta!" Lizbeth exclaimed, but her cry was lost in the mixed hubbub of Spanish and English which swirled about her.Moreover, Mary Ellen was clutching her arm, calling her attention to a display of leather handbags, so she couldn't immediately pursue the other girl.When she finally got free, she ordered Mary Ellen to remain where she was, and took off after Roberta. But the more active one had already moved on to another part of the store, and Lizbeth glanced about in mild panic. She took two quick turns and found herself between some high rows of cartons, evidently in a storage part of the shop. She seemed to be alone.