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  • Henry's Exposed Adventure Ch. 04

Henry's Exposed Adventure Ch. 04

The earlier chapters give some background on our hero's situation, and how he found himself sitting beside a sexy teacher in a short skirt driving a sportscar at high speed. All characters are over 18, and any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

*****

The next afternoon found me driving in Miss Frobisher's little red sportscar on the way to my first rehearsal at Grimsley. The sky was a middling battleship gray when she picked me up, and as we drove it started looking more and more ominous, rain-wise. We went up, down and practically sideways along the little two-lane country roads. She maintained a fairly steady 50 miles per hour despite the speed limit of 30. It made me nervous, but I should have expected it. Everything about Miss Frobisher was fast. Her little sportster was a manual transmission, which a bit unusual for a woman to drive, at least back in that day and age. But there was much about Miss Frobisher that was unusual for a woman. Of course, I didn't know how to drive stickshift myself, so I wasn't about to say anything. I determined that I would learn to drive one. At least that was one inadequacy I could overcome.

She barely talked to me either. I wondered if she was angry with me for something. Though I'd had to rush like crazy, I'd been at her appointed pick-up spot a few minutes early, so it couldn't be that. I couldn't think of anything I'd done that she could find fault with.

"Looks like rain," I said, with hopes of breaking the silence. Stupid move. No response from her. She must have heard me, though. She was probably thinking, 'no shit, Sherlock,' or maybe 'gee, do yah think?'

Going that fast was scary, but I certainly didn't want to criticize or complain about her driving. Who knows what she'd have done in response, but whatever happened I was sure it would hurt. And from my experience with Miss Frobisher, I guessed the pain would start with my balls. God knows where it would end, though.

The first drop was yet to fall, but it was just a matter of time. Would she slow down for the rain? Or, Jesus H_, would she go faster just to moon Mother Nature? I could see the headlines in my mind: "Teacher and Student Killed in Stormy Accident." Or maybe, if we were lucky enough to have a few final minutes together: "Student & Teacher Found Killed, Hands in Each Other's Crotches." Would they even print something like that in a family newspaper? I guessed not. I had to get a grip and not let my negative imagination run my mind.

As I stared out the window wondering about who should or should not be on the guest list for my impending funeral, I could almost see the cloud cover go from battleship gray, to dark gray, to even nastier dark gray, and then to that final stage of booger green that presages a storm severe enough to win the praise of Dr. Frankenstein. Looking at that sky, I began to understand and forgive the ancient Greeks for thinking that there were gods who nursed grudges against mortals. Then almost on cue, a streak of lighting rent the sky. The woods on either side of the road were bathed in a blinding white light, making them look like they were coated with snow. A deafening roll of thunder sounded just a second later. "That's pretty close," I said. Still no response

The rain was slow at first. One drop hit the windshield, then another, then two or three at once, and then it was like going through a car wash while you stayed in the car. Water, water everywhere. The windshield wipers could barely keep up. I mentally kicked myself for not bringing my umbrella, or even a raincoat, and most of all for not even checking the weather report before leaving the dorm. But I had been rushing, nervous about following Miss Frobisher's directions and getting to her pick-up point on time. Instead of concentrating on sensible things like umbrellas and weather reports, my mind oscillated between the cold fear of her kicking my balls if I were late and the hot prospect of a good half hour watching her legs work the clutch and the brake in that short skirt. I was, to say the least, distracted.

That was to be a fateful mistake for me.

On the plus side, the bad weather enhanced her leg show beyond my horniest expectations. As she sped up and down all those country hills with no brakes to speak of, with rain coming down in sheets, she worked the clutch with her sexy left leg and the gas pedal with her sexy right. She was really a mistress of manual transmission engine braking. Her right arm went back and forth on the stick shift, as she steered with the other. This continuous series of leg and arm motions sent her skirt, already on the short side, riding higher and higher on her thighs. I kept my nose pointed at the front windshield, pretending that I was looking straight ahead at the road, but all the while I kept shifting my eyes down and to the left, straining my peripheral vision to check out her increasingly naked thighs. I thought I could just about see the tops of her stockings, and I couldn't resist it any longer. I had to confirm it, to see it clearly. I turned my head and started down at her thighs. Yes! Yes! She was wearing some kind of thigh-high jobs, and everything beyond that was naked skin! And it was Miss Frobisher's naked skin, no less. Some animal part of my brain must have taken over and opened the sluice gates for all the blood in my veins to flow straight to my cock. I think I felt stiffer than I'd ever been before, and I was tenting up the fly on my pants, to the meager extent I could do that.

"What the hell are you looking at?" she said.

I was busted. I blushed with embarrassment. She was Robo-mistress, cop, judge and jury all rolled into one, and the verdict was guilty. I was going to say "sorry," but I couldn't get my mouth to say anything.The evidence was trying to get out of my pants, the smoking gun. Well, in my case it would be more like a smoking snub-nosed revolver. Or maybe a puffing little derringer. In any event, she was looking right at my pants.

All of a sudden she slowed down and pulled off on what I hoped was a shoulder and stopped the car.

"Looks like someone's getting a little bit excited," she said. "I'll forgive you this time because we're just here in my car, but let's be really clear: I did not grant you permission to become erect. Apart from it being an offensive male trait, that kind of lewdness is absolutely forbidden inside Grimsley. Understand?

"Well, sometimes it just happens," I said. Holy crap. She was going to tell me when I could get hard? This was getting deeper.

"Nothing could be more crude and disgusting to the demure young ladies of Grimsley Hall than to suddenly be confronted with an unbidden male erection, whether in or out of your pants."

That last comment had me stumped. In or out of my pants? When would I be out of my pants at Grimsley. I guessed there would be some kind of costume I might have to wear for the play, but why would anyone be looking at me without my pants on? "No, Miss Frobisher," I said. But I had to know what she meant, and there was no way to know except to ask her. "But I'm not sure I follow about in or out of my pants."

"Well, there was something I forgot to mention yesterday when we were talking about the play. Actresses, and actors too, wear different costumes in different scenes, so they have to learn how to change quickly and efficiently. And Grimsley has always been an all-girls school. So, when the stage was added many years ago they didn't see the need for dressing rooms, since everyone involved was female."

She paused. I must have looked puzzled.

"So..." she continued, "you'll have to change costume between scenes a few times yourself, and when you do you'll need to... to... well, shed some of your inhibitions."

I must have looked still more puzzled. She let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Look, Henry, what I'm saying is that everyone, boys and girls - or boy and girls, that is - has to dress and undress in the same little area backstage. People, including you, will be in various stages of nudity. And we simply can't have your little soldier suddenly standing at attention at such inopportune moments."

Then she grabbed my dick through my pants before I knew what what was happening.

"Of course, with your size you probably won't look like much of a threat. One of the lessons each Grimsley girl learns is that it is simply intolerable for any male to present her with his erect penis when she hasn't expressly bidden him to become erect. Such conduct is more than just rude and undignified. Why it's practically rape! So there will be some nudity backstage, but you'll have to keep your... your "emotions" strictly in check."

"Yes - Miss Frobisher!" It was hard to focus with her hand on my dick.

"Good, good, I'm sure you do." She patted my dick and then unzipped my fly. My dick emerged as hard as, well, wood. Did she just say that all these girls would be naked, or almost naked, right next to me? Wow!!

Then it hit me. Oh shit. Shit. Shit! And more shit. I would be just as naked in front of them! In front of Alicia, well, she'd already seen me so I guessed things couldn't get much worse in that quarter. But my blood temperature sank to Antarctic levels at the thought that all these girls...girls my own age, would be looking at me. Naked. Full frontal, dick out, balls out. And they wouldn't have had to see very many male speciments to realize that my member was anything but impressive. Oh my god. Michelle? Her! Shit, I wanted to date that girl. I wanted her to like me, or at least get the chance to have her like me. She'd see my little willy and burst out laughing. And that beautiful, snotty Genevieve. Or Zzzhen-vee-evv, or however the hell she always insisted I pronounce it. And the rest of these girls that I knew from the dances and the teas, and from basketball games and on and on. I'd never be able to show my face again at Grimsley. Or at East Point. Or anywhere in Armpit, New York, for that matter. But if I thought I was in the shitter then, I just hadn't realized yet how big a shitter it was.

"Well," she said, looking over at my dick, which was still poking out of my fly, "at least now we know what it takes to make him go soft again. Still, we can't take the chance. Take down your pants and shorts."

My mind was still racing around the thought of having to change in front of all those girls, many of whom I knew from the teas and the dances, so my reaction must not have been fast enough. I didn't even notice that my erection had gone down.

"Remember what we talked about yesterday, Henry? Absolute and immediate obedience!"

"Yes, Miss Frobisher!" The memory of two swift kicks to my balls was still sharp and fresh, so I didn't need to be told twice. I quickly unbuckled, unzipped, and lifted my butt off the seat to lower my clothes, as ordered. Then I sat there, fully exposed to her view, not knowing what would happen next.

"You're taking to the training very well, so I'll let you call me 'Miss F_.'"

She put her right hand out over my crotch, grabbed my sack firmly, and started manipulating my balls again. It didn't quite hurt, but it was uncomfortable enough to make me wince.

"Your testes appear to be normal in size. I can't check your prostate here, so we'll leave that for later."

I didn't even know what a prostate was.

"Assuming it's normal, you should be able to produce normal amounts of sperm and semen. How often do you masturbate?"

"Miss Frobisher? I mean...Miss F?" I'd never been asked a question like that by anyone in my life. I didn't even talk about that type of stuff with the other guys at East Point, even with the one or two I considered good friends. It was just something we didn't talk about. There were ten beds in our common dorm room, in two rows of five, and there was an unwritten rule, an omerta, or code of silence: if you woke up during the night and heard some up-and-down bed-squeaking followed by a gasp or three, you just let it go without saying anything. After all, you were likely to be just as unbearably horny one of these nights, so no one wanted to embarrass another guy by calling attention to the fact that he was jacking off. And here was the hottest, sexiest teacher in the school asking me about something neither I nor any of the other guys talked about. My stunned silence must have lasted too long because she began to sound exasperated with me.

She tightened her grip on my balls and sighed out loud. "Obedience includes answering questions when I ask them of you. You should know by now that it's not good to keep me waiting."

"Twice a day, usually. That is, before a little bit after lights out at night and then when I get up, if I can get up earlier than the other guys in the room."

"Do you achieve ejaculation each time, or merely stimulate yourself to erection?"

Damn. She was thorough. "Usually I do at night, but in the morning it depends on how long it takes. If it starts taking too long, then I just have to give it up without cumming.

"And did you ejaculate this morning?"

"No. Some of the other guys were starting to get up."

"All right. I think you're being honest with me, and I appreciate that. But we just can't take a chance of you sprouting up, especially during this first rehearsal. And you've been good this afternoon, so I'll give you a special treat."

With that, she leaned over and put her mouth right on my flaccid penis. Naturally, it didn't stay flaccid for long. She was the first girl to ever give me a blowjob. This happened eons before the internet. Some magazines floated around the dorms, but these were mostly Playboys, and there was still a pubic hair embargo at that time so some of the centerfolds had discrete little lines blocking the most strategic views. So although I'd heard about blowjobs from other guys who claimed to have the experience (which I doubted), I had never actually seen it done. And here was Miss Frobisher sucking my little dick up into her mouth, and the feeling was so intense I almost couldn't stand it. I had to lift my butt out of the seat, which caused her to take her mouth away. All I could think of was getting her lips back on me.

"What's the matter, you don't like this?" she asked.

"I love it. It's just so intense!"

"How sweet. This is your first time, then?" I said yes.

She smiled and went back to work. It was all I could do to control my breathing, and the sound of her slurping suction was louder than the sheets of rain still falling on the windshield. Then she changed the position of her head a little bit, craning around so that her bottom teeth could scrape up against the bottom of my shaft. She held my shaft in one hand and reached her other hand around, behind my balls, and started pressing on the thin skin at the center of my crotch. I would later learn that was where my prostate was.

That was all I could take, and I started to erupt, emptying my first thick bolt of cum into her mouth. I involuntarily lifted my butt up from the seat again. This time she didn't take her mouth away, but instead kept right on sucking. My second shot was a lot weaker, and then the third was hardly there. Yet she kept on sucking, which was almost painful given how sensitive my penis was from the whole orgasm experience. Finally she let me out of her mouth, but not before giving me a playful little nip with her teeth on the top of my dick.

"Your taste is acceptable, but we'll have to change your diet to make it really pleasant. You can pull up your shorts and pants and button up now. But from now on you will not masturbate at any time unless you have my permission. That's the rule."

"Yes, Miss F_"

"Good. Remember, I'll be inspecting your genitals. Either I or one of the other girls will be the only ones authorized to extract your semen."

She started driving again, and off we went on the road to Grimsley.

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