All characters are 18 or older.

This collection of stories is set at St. Benedict’s and can be read in any order. Categories will vary from story to story as appropriate.

St Benedict’s is a rich kid boarding school where lost-cause rich kids go to be babysat. They are bad students and grades don’t matter. The teachers and staff are equally bad, with low expectations.

The unofficial motto is: “Where rebels thrive and trouble is the norm”

The bell rang signaling the start of class. I looked around my library. Students sat scattered around at desks and carrels. The library was a popular option for study hall for students with open periods.

“Hi, Mrs. Peterson.” My library assistant for this period was Wendy Peal. “How are you today? You look great in that dress. Is it new? It really shows off your curves.” Wendy said the last in a lower voice.

She had a crush on me, and always tried to flatter me.

“Thank you, Wendy, I just got it.” I did a little spin, flaring the hem a bit. It showed some of my stocking-covered legs as it rose.

Wendy stared as my legs were exposed. She had a major crush on me, and I teased her by offering her glimpses.

“What looks better, my stocking-clad thighs, or how my cleavage shows? Or maybe my butt?” I asked her with a smirk.

“Uhmm, it’s hard to say,” she cleared her throat. “It all looks so good.”

“Why, aren’t you a dear?” I leaned over and patted her on the cheek. Her eyes locked onto my cleavage, the swell of my exposed breasts the target of her fixated gaze. I shimmied a bit just to tease her.

“Now then, how about you get to your tasks? Lots of books to put away.”

She sighed and said, “Yes Ma’am. Right away.”

Wendy went to do her tasks. I stood at the circulation desk and watched the students studying. My mind drifted as I watched them. I daydreamt of the running back for the St. Benedict Angels, Quinten Reale. A senior on the team, I had an ongoing affair with the 18-year-old stud. Tall and handsome, he often took care of my needs. Sometimes just him; other times, he’d bring a couple of his teammates to DP me, or on the rare occasion, to run a train on me.

My pussy was wet thinking about the things that I let him do to me.

After a while, Wendy returned to the desk. “All done, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Thank you, Wendy. You are always so helpful.”

“Is there something ... else I can do for you? I’ve been really good.” She had a hopeful look on her face.

“I suppose. You have been a good little girl. Get down there.”

She giggled in glee and scrambled to kneel under the circulation desk. I pulled a stool over and sat on the edge. “You have 20 minutes, and don’t make me cum. I’m saving myself for later.”

“Please, Mrs. I really want you to squirt on my face!”

“No. Do as you are told. Edge me only.”

Some of her enthusiasm diminished, she pulled my dress up over her head. Her hands slid up my silk stockings, her strong finger caressing my legs. I’ll need to have her give me a massage sometime. Her long, piano fingers pressed the flesh of my thighs, pushing my legs apart.

She gasped when she saw her target. My pussy was bare. I’d gone without panties today in anticipation of Quentin. Wendy’s view was of my slippery, wet pussy lips under my dress.

Her head bulged out the front of my dress obscenely. No one coming to the desk would see her there.

Wendy licked at my lips, her tongue teased me, sliding up and down. She teased me, slowly licking me, parting my generous folds with her tongue. My labia are oversized, and hang down when I stand and don’t wear underwear. She sucked one after the other into her mouth, gently nibbling on them, tugging at them with her teeth.

She knew just how to tease me. I’d been letting her eat me out for most of the school year. She wanted more; I knew. But I only had eyes for Quentin and his marvelous cock. Wendy wanted more, but I was stringing her along, using her for my own pleasure. She was good at it too. Her tongue was magical on my pussy. She did this thing with her tongue that drove me crazy, she’d curl it up around my clit.

I sat there on the edge of the stool, Wendy’s head pressed up against me. Her tongue was working wonders. She alternated between licking my lips and sucking on my clit. I was slowly building up toward my climax. I tapped her head each time I thought I was getting close, signaling her to back off.

My juices were running out of me, spurred on by the teenage tongue lapping at me.

I glanced at the clock, five minutes to go before the bell.

“Wendy, time to come out now.” She pulled back and groaned.

She stood before me, her face glistening with my pussy juice. I ran a finger along her lips. She shivered and lolled her head. I sucked myself off my finger. “Mmmm, I taste good, don’t I?”

“The best Mrs. Peterson. I could eat you all day long, and never get tired of you.”

I handed her a folded slip of paper. “I need you to give this to Quentin. It’s urgent that he gets it before the end of the day.”

She nodded. There was a sadness on her face. Wendy knew what the note was for.

I’m not completely heartless towards the girl. I leaned in to hug her. “You did a very good job today. It felt wonderful.”

She smiled. “Now, I want you to let my juices dry on your face. Don’t wash your face until tonight.”

“Yes ma’am!” She whispered.

Wendy rushed to her next class. Quentin was in English class with her. She unfolded the slip to confirm what she knew was written on it.

– Meet me in the back room after school. I’ll be waiting. Bring a friend or two who have some stamina. LP–

She wished Mrs. Peterson would send her notes like this.

Walking into the class, she slid the note on his desk as she walked to her seat.

Quentin glanced up at her and nodded, leaving the note untouched.

Ms. Jones started lecturing the class.

I got ready for my after-school session with Quentin, or Que as he liked to be called.

The back room of the library held the back collection of magazines and prep areas for making signs and laminating for teachers. I had a table tucked away in the corner with a blanket and a couple of pillows.

“Yo, Mrs. P!”

Quentin and two of his teammates strutted into the back room. He grabbed me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground. His strong arms lifted me effortlessly. “How’s my favorite librarian?” He asked with a smile.

“I’m better now Que.”

He set me down. His hands slipped down to my butt. His hands gripped each cheek, pulling them apart. “Mrs. P., Jimmy here has never done anal. How do you feel about breaking him in?”

I looked over at Jimmy. The kicker for the football team, he wasn’t tall and muscular like Que was. Average height, and kind of scrawny, for a football player. “Come here, Jimmy.”

I felt his crotch. He was already hard. “So, you want to fuck my ass?”

He reached around and grabbed one of my ass cheeks. “I’ve been dreaming of your ass. I see it wiggle as you walk and I just want to bite your juicy ass.”

My sphincter tensed; it was preparing to be invaded by his cock. “I think we can take care of that for you.” I looked to the remaining player, “Hi Billy, nice catch in the last game.” Billy was a wide receiver and he’d caught a 40-yard pass and ran it in for a touchdown.

He beamed at my compliment. “Thanks, Mrs. P, it was a personal record for me.”

“And what about you? You ready to fuck the shit out of me?”

“Hell yeah. The cheerleaders won’t give us the time of day. They are all lezzing out with Ms. Trapp in Home Ec. I need to clear my pipes; I’m getting backed up!”

“A poet as always, Billy.”

“Strip for us, Librarian,” Que said. He pulled out his phone and played stripper music, “Girls, Girls, Girls”. That song was literally twice his age. The classics never go out of style.

I swayed to the beat, undoing the buttons of my dress, each one revealing more of my bra-covered breasts. The lacy fabric held my large breasts in place. They weren’t quite as firm as when I was 18, but they still enticed the eye.

I slipped the dress off my shoulders. It fell to the floor, puddling at my feet. I stood there in just my bra and low heels, swaying to the hair metal beat of Motley Crüe. I reached back and unhooked the bra. Shrugging my shoulders, the cups fell into my hands.

I threw it aside. Que stepped up and held me gently. “Mrs. P, you are a beautiful woman.” His hand cupped my breast, squeezing it. His lips touched mine.

“Que, please. I’ve been waiting all day. I need you and your friends to fuck me. Feel my pussy, feel how wet I am for you.”

His hand left my breast, sliding along my belly toward my soaking, wet pussy. His finger parted my lips, collecting moisture. He sucked my juices off his finger. “Yum. Bend over the table, now!”