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Physical Co-education: Part 1
Physical Co-education: Part 1
Colt Johnson’s prep school coed gym class.
Based on a post by Hector
Bidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Forward: The students in this story are
in their final semester of Rhode Heritage Preparatory School ,in Rhode Island.
The school systems in Rhode Island have a custom of waiting until a child is 7
years old, to accept them into first grade. Hence, the 12th grade
class is also a year older, and all of them are 18 years old. Copies of their
birth certificates are on file in the principal's office. Rhode Island has some
other approaches to social issues, like granting tax credits to parents whose
teenage girls are compliant with reliable birth standards. It saves the state
millions in otherwise inevitable welfare programs. Most girls opt for the
implanted hormone, but some chose the IUD. This is also said to be a reason
Rhode Island girls have bigger tits, because of the added hormone-based birth
control. Thank you, governor!
Applied Phys Ed, 4 oh 2.
The girls always took a little longer than we guys
did, to get ready, and so we always had to wait for them to come out. We'd mill
around self-consciously, in the middle of the gym. You put 20 naked guys
together anywhere, and they're going to mill around self-consciously.
Finally the 20 girls would come out, in a single
tight little group. Even clear across the gym you could see that they were
naked too; bare legs, bare feet, bare chests, bare everything. They shuffled
their way toward us, just as self-conscious as we were.
There was Gretchen Portland, who just fifteen
minutes ago in Civics class had answered a tough question about the Supreme
Court protocols, with the confidence of a National Merit semifinalist, now
embarrassed to have the whole world see that her tits and her ass were just as
perfect as her SAT scores.
There was Nancy Wilson, who sat beside me in
Calculus, blushing for all she was worth and trying to remain inconspicuous in
the middle of the pack.
There was Harriet Thompson, whom I'd known since
kindergarten, trying to pretend she didn't mind that I was looking at her
vagina.
And there were our fifteen teenage penises, fully
exposed, nowhere to hide, getting more and more self-conscious with every step
closer they took.
Senior Phys Ed.
Phys Ed had been segregated since middle school, but
in fall Senior Phys Ed, 4 oh 1; they focused on social applications, like mixed
doubles tennis, coed variants of many sports, and such We wore our gym clothes;
and so did the girls. Mr. Palmer, our phys ed teacher, had a teaching
assistant; Miss Olson. She was an athlete on the college gymnastics team, but
now in the grad school education program, getting her master’s degree. The
girls loved her enthusiasm and the guys loved her petite energetic and outgoing
spirit. In November and December, they started the social and cultural dance
units; teaching us a multitude of dances. We got to wear our usual school
uniforms for those two months. Just before holiday break, the fine arts
department put on a choir and drama production. Between the music and
drama, Mr. Palmer and Miss Olson put on a cultural dance exhibition, then
invited the audience to join the students in the foyer, for waltzes. The
students were instructed to dance with a class partner for the first dance,
then go into the surrounding crowd to select a new dance partner for the second
song. After 4 songs, the DJ thanked the crowd and invited them back into the
auditorium for the drama club’s presentation.
After the holiday break, we had a new semester, and
Phys ed 4 oh 2. The university sent a different teaching assistant for the
spring semester. She’s doing her internship for a masters degree in physical
education. Miss Latimer instantly became the object of every guy’s sex
fantasies. Her D cup tits and wide ass are separated by a very narrow
waistline. The class uniform was now the swimwear approved by the school.
The guy’s swimsuits are a snug golden spandex brief,
without lining. Girls approved swim uniforms are maroon tankini sets. Again,
without liners. Miss Latimer wore the same Tankini for the aquatic units of the
semester. Her most amazing feature is her huge nipples, which become erect
whenever she experiences a change in skin temperature.
First aquatic units include lifesaving and water
safety. Miss Latimer handled much of that. We sat on the edge of the shallow
end of the pool. She got in the waist high water, inducing the goose pimples
and massive nipple erections. The guys; and some of the girls, had a hard time
remembering most of what she said. I lost count of how many times she said;
“pay attention!” In addition, she taught traditional swimming and diving skills,
After those units, she generally stayed out of the pool, but guys figured out
creative ways to induce that catalyst and observe the physiological phenomena.
The girls occasionally got grabby with each
other during chicken fights. It was a delight to watch, because you never knew
when a tankini ‘wardrobe malfunction’ would happen. We eventually figured out
that some girls delighted in having their top ‘rearranged’ in front of the
class. Melissa Paxton was the first to get her top yanked completely off. The entire
class roared in laughter, but when Melissa got out of the pool, Tankini in
hand, she stood near the ladder and bowed to the applause, then jiggled her C
cup tits, as an encore.
Melissa set a great precedent. The other girls
seemed to take it in stride when they got exposed. Karen yanked Harriet’s
tankini and pulled it up right away, leaving her bare B cup tits wiggling for
the entirety of the match that she and Bill finally won. Karen blamed Carl for
being distracted by the titty show. Carl retorted; “You’re the one who
brilliantly thought it was a winning strategy to expose her, Karen!”
After the aquatic phase, and spring break; our final
8 weeks of Phys ed were the hygiene and reproductive units. They were conducted
in the nude.
Inspections.
Mr. Palmer blew his whistle. We formed up into two
parallel lines, using the red volleyball attack line stripes. The boys on one
line, the girls on the other attack line, facing us. Mr. Palmer had played
volleyball in college and took it for granted that everyone knew. He called the
roll, strutting up and down, in his faded gym shorts and open-mesh jersey. His
busty teaching assistant from the state university, Miss Latimer, stood to the
side.
After roll call came the inspection. Mr. Palmer
inspected the girls, and Miss Latimer inspected the boys. Miss Latimer was just
a couple years out of college herself, with a perky, athletic figure and a
jaunty blonde ponytail. She was wearing baby blue cotton shorts and a navy
sports top.
We boys were supposed to keep our cocks and our
balls clean-shaven, and our upper pelvic pubic hair trimmed to regulation
length. Miss Latimer had told us that most girls these days, herself included,
found the shaven look to be much more attractive than the unruly rats' nests
we'd had at the beginning of the semester. Needless to say, nobody wanted to be
seen as unattractive in Miss Latimer's eyes. We all took our grooming pretty
seriously.
She walked down the line, scrutinizing each of us in
turn. Most of us still couldn't make it through the inspection without getting
a boner. She just took them in stride, knowing we couldn't really help
ourselves. In fact, it made the inspection a little easier for her.
If she was satisfied with your trim; no missed
spots, no errant hairs; she'd look up and give you a friendly nod of approval.
Her eye would always have a little twinkle in it, as if to say that, just
between the two of you, she wasn't really as immune to your manliness as she
was pretending to be.
Meanwhile, Mr. Palmer was inspecting the girls. The
code for them was about the same as it was for us. They had to shave or wax
their vulvas and keep their pubic hair trim and tidy. But they also had to
shave their legs. Mr. Palmer made it a point to run his hand over each girl's
thigh, front and back. He never touched anything else, but he always felt their
thighs. For whatever reason, he always seemed more embarrassed than they did.
In fairness to Mr. Palmer, and all male teachers,
the system and culture is stacked against all male teachers. No one dreads the
‘p’ word more than male educators. But it doesn’t stop there. Mr. Palmer could
face assault charges for what he does, but no female teacher would face such
scrutiny of their conduct. Even the occasional felony case against a teacher
for sexual misconduct is treated vastly different. Convictions against men are
almost a slam-dunk. And incarceration sentences are 500% higher for male
teachers having sex with students.
And let’s face it; female teachers who seduce
students are often thanked by the student. Hell, the boys brag about screwing
the woman!
So Mr. Palmer does not enjoy inspecting teen girl’s
cunts. Even if his huge boner says otherwise.
Warmups.
After inspection, Mr. Palmer always lines the
students up on the volleyball lines, guys on one side of the court; girls on
the other. Half on the attack lines, and half on the back boundary service
lines. The 6 climbing ropes were suspended from the rafters above the tumbling
mats, which were laid between the lines on the gym floor.
He started us off with calisthenics: jumping jacks,
running in place, jazzercise, and Miss Latimer even introduced us to basics of
yoga. Because our two lines faced each other, we couldn't help but see the way
the girls' boobies bounced around during these jumping jacks. Nor could we help
letting them see the flipping and flopping of our cocks. It was an object
lesson for all of us never to take ourselves, or each other; too seriously.
Then more stretches. Then pushups. Then leg raises,
up, then spread wide, then halfway back and hold it. This was the most
entertaining part of the calisthenics Great views of cocks and cunts, but
because of the physical depletion, none of the guys were turgid. Finally, 20
sit ups. Everyone trying not to be last. Nobody was thinking much about cocks
and boobies now. Glycolytic depletion, or physical exertion; turns out to be a
pretty powerful libido suppressant. Finally, mercifully, Mr. Palmer blew his
whistle. We collapsed to the mats.
As we lay there panting, Miss Latimer read out the
partners for the day. The guys and gals found each other, grabbed a clean,
folded sheet from Mr. Palmer, and lined up along the two court sideline. The
girls got to see us guys’ baseline cock size. We got to see their retracted
nipples. Bid deal! Later, we’d get some gauge of how impacting our activities
changed our physical ‘enthusiasm.’.
Today, I got Meg Billig. Meg was one of the more
reserved girls in class, someone you didn't always think of, right off the bat.
But, in fact, she was not a bad person to have as a partner. She was trim and
reasonably fit, with pretty, petite tits and pretty chestnut hair; bobbed, just
above her chin. And, actually, a sweet, shy smile that kind of reminded me of
the little mermaid. She smiled shyly as we paired up. “Hello, Colt Johnson.”
The blood was starting to find its way back to
my tallywhacker. And back, apparently, to her pretty mermaid nipples, as well.
Team Competitions.
The day's activity was rope climbing. It was set up
like a race to keep things exciting. Three pairs of students on each rope. We
had Donny Morgan on our team, so there was no way we were going to win. But at
least we could shoot for not coming in last. Kenny and Marcus were on the coed
cheer squad, so they were very fit and athletic. Pete is a wrestler, but a
heavy weight, so we might beat him in the rope climb relay.
When it was our turn, Meg went first. She grabbed
the rope, jumped up on the knot, reached higher, hauled herself up a good
several feet, wrapped the rope around her leg, and stepped on it with her other
foot to brace for the next haul.
From my vantage point below it was a pretty explicit
lesson in neuromuscular movement science; the strain and release of her biceps
and shoulders, the flexing of her ass, the tautness of her calves. And of
course I couldn't help but notice the pursing and un-pursing of her pretty anus
as well. It's kind of intimate, I guess, to be given such a close-up view of
your classmate's private parts. But it's kind of sweet too.
Eight pulls and she touched the bar, then carefully
segmented back down, breathing deeply, her chest deeply flushed. No one wants a
rope burn.
"Good job," I called as she dropped down
and I jumped up. I used to worry about my equipment getting tangled up in the
rope, but that doesn't really happen. I concentrated on climbing and tried not
to be too self-conscious about the anatomy lesson I was providing to Meg and
the other girls.
Four pairs to a team; each pair, in rotation. The
first climber on each of the 5 teams went to the back of the line and wore a
‘captain’ ball cap; so we could keep track of how each team was doing. First
and second place were pretty well assured, but we battled hard for third and
won it by half a rope. Bashful shoulder hugs all around.
Positions of Kamasutra.
The last 40 minutes of class was for Kamasutra. The
position of the day was something called the Catherine wheel. This was the most
nerve-wracking part of the class, hoping to avoid being chosen for the
demonstration. Fortunately, Mr. Palmer called on Ned Baker and Susan Carson.
They went sheepishly forward, and the rest of us breathed a collective sigh of
relief.
It was one of those complicated Kamasutra positions,
and Mr. Palmer and Miss Latimer had to go over it a couple of times to get Ned
and Susan arranged the way they wanted them. Ned ended up sort of half sitting
on the mat, half lounging back on one elbow, with her sitting on his lap and
leaning back on both of her arms. She had her legs wrapped around his middle,
and he had one of his legs hooked around her waist. The demonstration never
involved actual penetration, and so Ned's erect cock was sticking out
perpendicularly, poking between Susan's thighs. The two of them were red with
embarrassment.
"You're on top in this position, ladies,"
lectured Mr. Palmer. "You control the action. Brace yourself with your
arms and thrust yourself back and forth." Susan did her best to
illustrate, hyper aware that what everyone was looking at was the way her pussy
lips kept kissing up to the underside of Ned's rigid cock, with a clear glaze
of precum running down from the tip.
"But you boys have to help," Miss Latimer
chimed in. "Use your leg and your free hand to guide your partner's
movement." Presumably, that's what Ned was trying to do.
"You can also use your hand to stimulate her
manually," Mr. Palmer continued.
"To gently caress her clitoris and her
tits," Miss Latimer explained. Susan's slit was already glistening. Ned
brought his hand up and teased it gently.
"Although you can't so easily reach her nipples
very well in this position," Mr. Palmer clarified.
"Unless you try," said Miss Latimer, a bit
sarcastically, and more to Mr. Palmer, than to us. Ned reached up and easily
petted Susan's tit. Mr. Palmer blushed. We loved the way that the two of them
bantered back and forth during the demonstrations. It was pretty clear that
they tried out all the positions themselves ahead of class, and chose the final
9. We liked to think that underneath their no-nonsense demeanors, they were
really kind of sweet on each other.
"The main thing, boys," Miss Latimer went
on, leveling with us now, in her sincere, if-only-someone-had-told-us-when-we-were-eighteen
voice, "is to make sure to provide your partner with what she needs.
That's the real secret of coupling. She's listening to a different drumbeat
than you are. Try to remember that. Do your best to pick up on it, too."
Even though Ned's cock and Susan's pussy were only
in superficial contact, her thrusting and his petting did indeed seem to be
striking the right chord. She had her eyes half closed and was no longer paying
any attention to the instructors, or to her audience. A good demonstration can
be more sexually arousing than a porno movie, and pairs of students were distracting
each other.
“Pay attention to the demonstration, students!” Mr.
Palmer barked. “You wo
View all episodes
By (various)Physical Co-education: Part 1
Colt Johnson’s prep school coed gym class.
Based on a post by Hector
Bidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Forward: The students in this story are
in their final semester of Rhode Heritage Preparatory School ,in Rhode Island.
The school systems in Rhode Island have a custom of waiting until a child is 7
years old, to accept them into first grade. Hence, the 12th grade
class is also a year older, and all of them are 18 years old. Copies of their
birth certificates are on file in the principal's office. Rhode Island has some
other approaches to social issues, like granting tax credits to parents whose
teenage girls are compliant with reliable birth standards. It saves the state
millions in otherwise inevitable welfare programs. Most girls opt for the
implanted hormone, but some chose the IUD. This is also said to be a reason
Rhode Island girls have bigger tits, because of the added hormone-based birth
control. Thank you, governor!
Applied Phys Ed, 4 oh 2.
The girls always took a little longer than we guys
did, to get ready, and so we always had to wait for them to come out. We'd mill
around self-consciously, in the middle of the gym. You put 20 naked guys
together anywhere, and they're going to mill around self-consciously.
Finally the 20 girls would come out, in a single
tight little group. Even clear across the gym you could see that they were
naked too; bare legs, bare feet, bare chests, bare everything. They shuffled
their way toward us, just as self-conscious as we were.
There was Gretchen Portland, who just fifteen
minutes ago in Civics class had answered a tough question about the Supreme
Court protocols, with the confidence of a National Merit semifinalist, now
embarrassed to have the whole world see that her tits and her ass were just as
perfect as her SAT scores.
There was Nancy Wilson, who sat beside me in
Calculus, blushing for all she was worth and trying to remain inconspicuous in
the middle of the pack.
There was Harriet Thompson, whom I'd known since
kindergarten, trying to pretend she didn't mind that I was looking at her
vagina.
And there were our fifteen teenage penises, fully
exposed, nowhere to hide, getting more and more self-conscious with every step
closer they took.
Senior Phys Ed.
Phys Ed had been segregated since middle school, but
in fall Senior Phys Ed, 4 oh 1; they focused on social applications, like mixed
doubles tennis, coed variants of many sports, and such We wore our gym clothes;
and so did the girls. Mr. Palmer, our phys ed teacher, had a teaching
assistant; Miss Olson. She was an athlete on the college gymnastics team, but
now in the grad school education program, getting her master’s degree. The
girls loved her enthusiasm and the guys loved her petite energetic and outgoing
spirit. In November and December, they started the social and cultural dance
units; teaching us a multitude of dances. We got to wear our usual school
uniforms for those two months. Just before holiday break, the fine arts
department put on a choir and drama production. Between the music and
drama, Mr. Palmer and Miss Olson put on a cultural dance exhibition, then
invited the audience to join the students in the foyer, for waltzes. The
students were instructed to dance with a class partner for the first dance,
then go into the surrounding crowd to select a new dance partner for the second
song. After 4 songs, the DJ thanked the crowd and invited them back into the
auditorium for the drama club’s presentation.
After the holiday break, we had a new semester, and
Phys ed 4 oh 2. The university sent a different teaching assistant for the
spring semester. She’s doing her internship for a masters degree in physical
education. Miss Latimer instantly became the object of every guy’s sex
fantasies. Her D cup tits and wide ass are separated by a very narrow
waistline. The class uniform was now the swimwear approved by the school.
The guy’s swimsuits are a snug golden spandex brief,
without lining. Girls approved swim uniforms are maroon tankini sets. Again,
without liners. Miss Latimer wore the same Tankini for the aquatic units of the
semester. Her most amazing feature is her huge nipples, which become erect
whenever she experiences a change in skin temperature.
First aquatic units include lifesaving and water
safety. Miss Latimer handled much of that. We sat on the edge of the shallow
end of the pool. She got in the waist high water, inducing the goose pimples
and massive nipple erections. The guys; and some of the girls, had a hard time
remembering most of what she said. I lost count of how many times she said;
“pay attention!” In addition, she taught traditional swimming and diving skills,
After those units, she generally stayed out of the pool, but guys figured out
creative ways to induce that catalyst and observe the physiological phenomena.
The girls occasionally got grabby with each
other during chicken fights. It was a delight to watch, because you never knew
when a tankini ‘wardrobe malfunction’ would happen. We eventually figured out
that some girls delighted in having their top ‘rearranged’ in front of the
class. Melissa Paxton was the first to get her top yanked completely off. The entire
class roared in laughter, but when Melissa got out of the pool, Tankini in
hand, she stood near the ladder and bowed to the applause, then jiggled her C
cup tits, as an encore.
Melissa set a great precedent. The other girls
seemed to take it in stride when they got exposed. Karen yanked Harriet’s
tankini and pulled it up right away, leaving her bare B cup tits wiggling for
the entirety of the match that she and Bill finally won. Karen blamed Carl for
being distracted by the titty show. Carl retorted; “You’re the one who
brilliantly thought it was a winning strategy to expose her, Karen!”
After the aquatic phase, and spring break; our final
8 weeks of Phys ed were the hygiene and reproductive units. They were conducted
in the nude.
Inspections.
Mr. Palmer blew his whistle. We formed up into two
parallel lines, using the red volleyball attack line stripes. The boys on one
line, the girls on the other attack line, facing us. Mr. Palmer had played
volleyball in college and took it for granted that everyone knew. He called the
roll, strutting up and down, in his faded gym shorts and open-mesh jersey. His
busty teaching assistant from the state university, Miss Latimer, stood to the
side.
After roll call came the inspection. Mr. Palmer
inspected the girls, and Miss Latimer inspected the boys. Miss Latimer was just
a couple years out of college herself, with a perky, athletic figure and a
jaunty blonde ponytail. She was wearing baby blue cotton shorts and a navy
sports top.
We boys were supposed to keep our cocks and our
balls clean-shaven, and our upper pelvic pubic hair trimmed to regulation
length. Miss Latimer had told us that most girls these days, herself included,
found the shaven look to be much more attractive than the unruly rats' nests
we'd had at the beginning of the semester. Needless to say, nobody wanted to be
seen as unattractive in Miss Latimer's eyes. We all took our grooming pretty
seriously.
She walked down the line, scrutinizing each of us in
turn. Most of us still couldn't make it through the inspection without getting
a boner. She just took them in stride, knowing we couldn't really help
ourselves. In fact, it made the inspection a little easier for her.
If she was satisfied with your trim; no missed
spots, no errant hairs; she'd look up and give you a friendly nod of approval.
Her eye would always have a little twinkle in it, as if to say that, just
between the two of you, she wasn't really as immune to your manliness as she
was pretending to be.
Meanwhile, Mr. Palmer was inspecting the girls. The
code for them was about the same as it was for us. They had to shave or wax
their vulvas and keep their pubic hair trim and tidy. But they also had to
shave their legs. Mr. Palmer made it a point to run his hand over each girl's
thigh, front and back. He never touched anything else, but he always felt their
thighs. For whatever reason, he always seemed more embarrassed than they did.
In fairness to Mr. Palmer, and all male teachers,
the system and culture is stacked against all male teachers. No one dreads the
‘p’ word more than male educators. But it doesn’t stop there. Mr. Palmer could
face assault charges for what he does, but no female teacher would face such
scrutiny of their conduct. Even the occasional felony case against a teacher
for sexual misconduct is treated vastly different. Convictions against men are
almost a slam-dunk. And incarceration sentences are 500% higher for male
teachers having sex with students.
And let’s face it; female teachers who seduce
students are often thanked by the student. Hell, the boys brag about screwing
the woman!
So Mr. Palmer does not enjoy inspecting teen girl’s
cunts. Even if his huge boner says otherwise.
Warmups.
After inspection, Mr. Palmer always lines the
students up on the volleyball lines, guys on one side of the court; girls on
the other. Half on the attack lines, and half on the back boundary service
lines. The 6 climbing ropes were suspended from the rafters above the tumbling
mats, which were laid between the lines on the gym floor.
He started us off with calisthenics: jumping jacks,
running in place, jazzercise, and Miss Latimer even introduced us to basics of
yoga. Because our two lines faced each other, we couldn't help but see the way
the girls' boobies bounced around during these jumping jacks. Nor could we help
letting them see the flipping and flopping of our cocks. It was an object
lesson for all of us never to take ourselves, or each other; too seriously.
Then more stretches. Then pushups. Then leg raises,
up, then spread wide, then halfway back and hold it. This was the most
entertaining part of the calisthenics Great views of cocks and cunts, but
because of the physical depletion, none of the guys were turgid. Finally, 20
sit ups. Everyone trying not to be last. Nobody was thinking much about cocks
and boobies now. Glycolytic depletion, or physical exertion; turns out to be a
pretty powerful libido suppressant. Finally, mercifully, Mr. Palmer blew his
whistle. We collapsed to the mats.
As we lay there panting, Miss Latimer read out the
partners for the day. The guys and gals found each other, grabbed a clean,
folded sheet from Mr. Palmer, and lined up along the two court sideline. The
girls got to see us guys’ baseline cock size. We got to see their retracted
nipples. Bid deal! Later, we’d get some gauge of how impacting our activities
changed our physical ‘enthusiasm.’.
Today, I got Meg Billig. Meg was one of the more
reserved girls in class, someone you didn't always think of, right off the bat.
But, in fact, she was not a bad person to have as a partner. She was trim and
reasonably fit, with pretty, petite tits and pretty chestnut hair; bobbed, just
above her chin. And, actually, a sweet, shy smile that kind of reminded me of
the little mermaid. She smiled shyly as we paired up. “Hello, Colt Johnson.”
The blood was starting to find its way back to
my tallywhacker. And back, apparently, to her pretty mermaid nipples, as well.
Team Competitions.
The day's activity was rope climbing. It was set up
like a race to keep things exciting. Three pairs of students on each rope. We
had Donny Morgan on our team, so there was no way we were going to win. But at
least we could shoot for not coming in last. Kenny and Marcus were on the coed
cheer squad, so they were very fit and athletic. Pete is a wrestler, but a
heavy weight, so we might beat him in the rope climb relay.
When it was our turn, Meg went first. She grabbed
the rope, jumped up on the knot, reached higher, hauled herself up a good
several feet, wrapped the rope around her leg, and stepped on it with her other
foot to brace for the next haul.
From my vantage point below it was a pretty explicit
lesson in neuromuscular movement science; the strain and release of her biceps
and shoulders, the flexing of her ass, the tautness of her calves. And of
course I couldn't help but notice the pursing and un-pursing of her pretty anus
as well. It's kind of intimate, I guess, to be given such a close-up view of
your classmate's private parts. But it's kind of sweet too.
Eight pulls and she touched the bar, then carefully
segmented back down, breathing deeply, her chest deeply flushed. No one wants a
rope burn.
"Good job," I called as she dropped down
and I jumped up. I used to worry about my equipment getting tangled up in the
rope, but that doesn't really happen. I concentrated on climbing and tried not
to be too self-conscious about the anatomy lesson I was providing to Meg and
the other girls.
Four pairs to a team; each pair, in rotation. The
first climber on each of the 5 teams went to the back of the line and wore a
‘captain’ ball cap; so we could keep track of how each team was doing. First
and second place were pretty well assured, but we battled hard for third and
won it by half a rope. Bashful shoulder hugs all around.
Positions of Kamasutra.
The last 40 minutes of class was for Kamasutra. The
position of the day was something called the Catherine wheel. This was the most
nerve-wracking part of the class, hoping to avoid being chosen for the
demonstration. Fortunately, Mr. Palmer called on Ned Baker and Susan Carson.
They went sheepishly forward, and the rest of us breathed a collective sigh of
relief.
It was one of those complicated Kamasutra positions,
and Mr. Palmer and Miss Latimer had to go over it a couple of times to get Ned
and Susan arranged the way they wanted them. Ned ended up sort of half sitting
on the mat, half lounging back on one elbow, with her sitting on his lap and
leaning back on both of her arms. She had her legs wrapped around his middle,
and he had one of his legs hooked around her waist. The demonstration never
involved actual penetration, and so Ned's erect cock was sticking out
perpendicularly, poking between Susan's thighs. The two of them were red with
embarrassment.
"You're on top in this position, ladies,"
lectured Mr. Palmer. "You control the action. Brace yourself with your
arms and thrust yourself back and forth." Susan did her best to
illustrate, hyper aware that what everyone was looking at was the way her pussy
lips kept kissing up to the underside of Ned's rigid cock, with a clear glaze
of precum running down from the tip.
"But you boys have to help," Miss Latimer
chimed in. "Use your leg and your free hand to guide your partner's
movement." Presumably, that's what Ned was trying to do.
"You can also use your hand to stimulate her
manually," Mr. Palmer continued.
"To gently caress her clitoris and her
tits," Miss Latimer explained. Susan's slit was already glistening. Ned
brought his hand up and teased it gently.
"Although you can't so easily reach her nipples
very well in this position," Mr. Palmer clarified.
"Unless you try," said Miss Latimer, a bit
sarcastically, and more to Mr. Palmer, than to us. Ned reached up and easily
petted Susan's tit. Mr. Palmer blushed. We loved the way that the two of them
bantered back and forth during the demonstrations. It was pretty clear that
they tried out all the positions themselves ahead of class, and chose the final
9. We liked to think that underneath their no-nonsense demeanors, they were
really kind of sweet on each other.
"The main thing, boys," Miss Latimer went
on, leveling with us now, in her sincere, if-only-someone-had-told-us-when-we-were-eighteen
voice, "is to make sure to provide your partner with what she needs.
That's the real secret of coupling. She's listening to a different drumbeat
than you are. Try to remember that. Do your best to pick up on it, too."
Even though Ned's cock and Susan's pussy were only
in superficial contact, her thrusting and his petting did indeed seem to be
striking the right chord. She had her eyes half closed and was no longer paying
any attention to the instructors, or to her audience. A good demonstration can
be more sexually arousing than a porno movie, and pairs of students were distracting
each other.
“Pay attention to the demonstration, students!” Mr.
Palmer barked. “You wo