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It was the early ’70s, and I was 24 years old and in my second year of teaching at a secondary modern school in a small, claustrophobic town not so far from London. I was primarily a sports teacher, but we were required to have a second string to our bow and mine was history. It was a co-educational school, and its undoubted stars were the Randall twins.
Tom and Tim, their names were. They were 18, in the sixth form, academically gifted, but that isn’t what matters in the popularity stakes at a school. They were all-round sportsmen, both mainstays of the soccer team while Tom also excelled at cricket and basketball and Tim was an exceptionally talented distance runner. The lads were also half of a school-based pop group which performed locally, playing covers of bands like the Stones and the Hollies, as well as their own material, mostly written by Tim.
They were devilishly attractive, and God did they know it! Six feet tall, with a sort of David Essex, raffish gypsy look: black curly hair, wicked twinkling eyes and easy smiles. Tom even got away somehow with wearing a small gold earring, despite school rules banning such adornments. He was the outgoing one, a little more muscular than his identical twin, very self-assured, always ready with something of a silver tongue. Tim was more reserved, less bullish in his style, but that just appeared to make him seem more mysterious and smouldering to girls, like some brooding hero of romantic fiction. It was rumoured that between them — or together — they had slept with every good looking girl in the school, and that every other girl wished they were among that number; as did several of the female teaching staff.
Three of my colleagues in particular — all older than me and two of them married — used to joke together about the ‘randy Randalls’ as they called them. I pretended mild contempt for such unprofessional behaviour, but of course I wasn’t immune to the boys’ obvious charms. I got on well with them, but felt reasonably confident that I had not let on how often close contact with them left me feeling flushed and sweaty. (I should explain that this stage that despite my own attractions — a petite five-foot-three frame, long wavy honey blonde hair, English rose complexion and perky breasts — I had been brought up as a ‘good girl’. The so-called Swinging Sixties had completely passed me by; I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 20, and I’d only ever slept with two men, little more experienced than me, less than a dozen times in total.)
I suppose it all really started at the school Christmas disco. The twins’ group played a few Christmas pop songs, then one of the other band members took over as DJ for the night. I was sitting with some fellow teachers, sipping the syrupy-sweet non-alcoholic punch and having the occasional bop with one colleague or another. To be honest I always found the event a bit of a bore, but the staff were expected to show our faces. I suddenly became aware of a shadow looming over me and glanced up. It was Tom Randall, almost silhouetted by a spotlight behind him, which turned his hair into a glowing halo around his smiling face. “Hi Miss Jackson, d’you fancy a dance?”
It wasn’t unusual for teachers to have innocent dances with pupils, and before I could actually reply he took my hand and drew me to my feet. A disco record was just finishing and, to my alarm, the next disc was a slow Elton John ballad, Your Song. Naturally, as the lights dimmed, all the dancing couples came together, arms round each other, and it would have looked ridiculous if I’d refused to dance the same way with Tom. I tried to keep a seemly distance between us, but inevitably, as we swayed across the floor, our bodies moved together. Before long I felt Tom’s erection pressing into my belly. He made no effort to pull away, and began murmuring blatantly flirtatious comments to me. My face was burning with embarrassment, and I couldn’t wait for the music to finish. Just before it did, I felt Tom’s hands slip down my back to cup my buttocks, pulling me even closer to him. Before I could react he leant his lips very close to my ear — not quite nuzzling it — and whispered “Can I call you Nathalie?”
I could barely find my voice, but I managed to unconvincingly squeak “I don’t think you’d better”. The moment the last note of the song sounded I almost ran back to my seat, burying my scarlet face in my punch glass and trying to ignore the damp patch bahis firmaları between my legs. I was terrified of facing Tom in school the following Monday; in fact he behaved perfectly normally, but I had to put up with a lot of good-natured winding-up from colleagues after that dance, and a few less friendly dagger-looks from jealous schoolgirls.
By the following February I had pretty much forgotten my embarrassment at the disco, and my nervousness around Tom Randall. One Friday evening after school I was sitting in the small office in the gym, catching up on some work. Faced with a dull weekend of shopping for one and Sunday lunch with my parents, I was in no hurry to rush home. Dressed in a tracksuit, with only a bra and cotton briefs beneath it, I had planned my schedule for the next week, and had in front of me a large, depressing pile of essays on the causes of the First World War. I was surprised to hear the main door to the gym block open; the kids were allowed to use the gym out of hours if a teacher was present, but it was a dark and stormy evening and I hadn’t honestly expected anyone. Really I should have checked who it was, but through the open office door I heard male voices and, a couple of minutes later, the thwack of racquets on a shuttlecock.
I don’t know how long passed, but after a while there was a light knock on the office door. I glanced up — and there stood the Randall boys. They were identically dressed in white T-shirts and short white shorts, revealing long, muscular, hirsute legs. I felt my pussy give a jolt, and cleared my throat before asking them in a strangled voice what they wanted. They entered the tiny room, and Tom said, “Well Miss Jackson, we’ve just been playing badminton, and it occurred to us to ask if you could give us some tuition sometime.” (It was well known around the school that I had been an All England Junior Champion before I got bored with the discipline of training and gave it up.)
I started to say I didn’t have time just then, but Tom, boldly strolling around my desk to stand beside me, interrupted, “Oh no, of course not miss, but sometime.” I vaguely noticed that Tim had drifted round the other side of the desk, so they framed me like bookends, but at that point I thought nothing of it. I gave Tom an encouraging smile — fool that I was! — but before I could say I’d be happy to, I felt Tim move right beside me. I was momentarily distracted and, next thing I knew, each had a hand on my shoulders and Tom was gently nuzzling my ear, while Tim’s lips attached themselves to my throat.
I was too startled in that first instant to brush them away and escape, and then it was too late. I felt a hot flush, my nipples popped up like hat pegs, my pussy flooded and my legs turned to jelly. As Tom’s hand closed over one of my boobs, outside my tracksuit top, my head fell back, my eyes closed, and a small moan forced itself between my lips. Trying to recover the situation, I groaned, “Look, stop this now, you mustn’t do this.” Of course, what I should have done was leapt to my feet, belted them and asserted my teacherly authority; but I was already beyond any ability to do so.
I felt fumbling behind my back, then my bra fell loose. That was followed by a confident hand taking the zip of my tracky top and slowly pulling it down to my tummy. Simultaneously, a hand from each side of me slipped into my bra and curled around one of my throbbing breasts, and I knew that was it: I was powerless to stop these little bastards doing whatever they wanted with me.
Seeing my token resistance ebb, Tom dropped to his knees and took a breast in his mouth; a moment later his brother followed suit. My titties had been sucked before, of course, but never both at the same time. Incapable of controlling my body’s response, I gave a long, loud groan as two tongues swirled around my breasts and nips, and two sets of teeth softly nibbled at my flesh. Tom was a quick worker, and I felt his hand sliding beneath the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms. I made a last, frantic attempt to stop him, scrabbling ineffectually at his wrist, but a moment later a finger found my clit and began to stroke it. It was the first time another person had touched me there for over a year and I orgasmed instantly, my hips jerking as I gasped towards the ceiling and a waterfall of fire cascaded across my tightly closed eyelids.
By now I was completely naked from the waist up and, stunned from my shattering kaçak iddaa release, I felt them take an arm each and pull me to my feet. As we passed the main door I heard its Yale lock click shut, and vaguely realised that they had cut off any chance of us being disturbed — or of me escaping, even if I was capable of such a thing! They propelled me towards the equipment store, and I muttered, “Please, you can’t rape me.”
Tom ran a finger down my spine, making me shiver, and murmured in my ear, “It’s not rape, Nathalie. If you really want us to stop, we will.” I tried to say that was exactly what I wanted, but the words just wouldn’t come. The harsh neon light of the equipment store flickered on, and I felt my back being pressed down onto a pile of cold rubber exercise mats. Tim pressed his lips to mine, and I meekly opened my mouth to his ravening tongue; at the same time his hands began to knead my breasts; meanwhile, Tom lifted my legs and dragged off my training shoes, my tracky bottoms and my soaking panties.
I gasped as Tim attached his mouth to one of my breasts again, then gasped again as Tom’s tongue trailed across my inner thigh and up the length of my lightly haired slit. Neither of my previous lovers had ever licked me there, and Tom’s tongue lapping at my inflamed pussy, combined with his fingers sinking deep into me, started to drive me wild. The effect of that and Tim’s licking and fondling of my boobs combined to create a supernova in my churning belly. Any thoughts of resistance were long forgotten, and I began to writhe wildly. I could feel a huge orgasm building inside me, getting closer, closer…then Tom stopped and stood up.
I opened my eyes in surprise and disappointment, but then saw he was quickly undressing. His big, uncircumcised cock stood out fully erect beneath a forest of dark hair. He touched Tim on the shoulder and, wordlessly, they turned me onto my hands and knees, my bum sticking into the air towards Tom. Tim then stood back and began to disrobe while Tom knelt behind me, grasped my hips and rubbing his burning tool up and down my crack. I was still on fire inside, and desperately wanted him to enter me. I wiggled my backside to try to force him inside me, and heard myself mutter, “Get on with it, you bastard.”
At that, Tom leant forwards along my back, and whispered, “Do you want me to screw you then Miss Jackson, is that what you want?”
I pushed back at him again, and groaned, “Oh God, you know it is.”
He straightened up, increasing slightly the pressure of his knob on my fanny lips. “Well then,” he said, “ask me properly. Come on Nathalie, I want to hear you beg.”
By that stage I was well past any feelings of dignity or shame: I was their slave, and they knew it. Without a moment’s hesitation, I whimpered, “Please Tom, please fuck me, good and hard.”
With a chuckle, he thrust into my pussy, momentarily driving the air from my lungs. Then he started to fuck me, varying between long and short strokes, hard and gentle, fast and slow, sometimes pulling almost all the way out and holding position for several seconds before hammering back into me. I began to giggle uncontrollably with sheer pleasure as my young lover teasingly screwed me.
Then Tim dropped down in front of me, his own big cock inches from my face. On impulse — I had never done it before — I craned my neck forward and closed my lips over the head of his shaft. I pumped my lips up and down Tim, and experimented with running my tongue along the underside of his prick, which he seemed to particularly enjoy. He twirled one hand in my hair, and reached beneath me with the other to caress one of my swinging tits.
I felt myself starting to go red in the face: with a thrusting cock in either end of me I was having trouble breathing. Fortunately, at that moment Tim shot his load with a great gasp, then fell back onto the exercise mats. I greedily swallowed my first taste of jizz, then relaxed onto my elbows to fully concentrate on what Tom was doing to me. As he was getting closer to cumming he stopped his teasing, gradually getting faster and more powerful with his thrusts. I gasped with every stroke, and felt a warm blush passing through my body, from my pussy up through my tummy and into my boobs. With an enormous roar, Tom suddenly buried himself in me to the hilt, burying my face in the mats, and I felt his cock jerk as he exploded inside me. He stopped moving for a few seconds, kaçak bahis recovering his breath, then started thrusting at me again, and reached around me and pressed a finger to my clit. Within moments I felt my insides melt, and I screamed as the biggest orgasm of my life hit me, making my entire body burn.
I collapsed onto the mats, temporarily exhausted, but filled with tender warmth towards the two teenage boys who had seduced me, and awakened me. They lay me on my side and sandwiched me, Tim kissing me and playing with my boobs, his cock rubbing against my dark blonde pubes, while Tom kissed my neck and massaged my back and buttocks. I wrapped my arms around Tim and pulled him to me, stroking his back. I should have felt ashamed — after all, I was a teacher and I had a responsibility for these boys. But all I felt was a warm pleasure at having enjoyed the best sexual experience I’d known, and with anticipation of what was still to come.
After a few minutes Tim broke off from kissing me and whispered “It’s my turn now.” Tom moved from behind me and I lay on my back, brazenly lifting my legs and stretching them wide to fully expose my spunked-up pussy to Tim. He fell on me and pushed into me. After a few first gentle strokes he began to fuck me with a steady rhythm. Then Tom straddled me, his still sticky prick hovering over my mouth. I ran my tongue up his balls then took him into my mouth, savouring the salty taste of our mixed juices on him. Again the twin in my mouth came first, and Tom swung off me and kissed me. Naughtily, I coated my tongue in his juice and thrust it into his mouth, wiping his own cum around the inside.
Tim was a less sophisticated lover than his brother, simply pounding away ay me with rhythmic powerful strokes. I was red hot from all the attention my body had been receiving though, and I think I had several small orgasms before he came inside me. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him hard to me, raking my fingernails across his back. I was vaguely aware of Tom slumped against a wall, playing with his dick as he watched his twin brother fuck their sports teacher. I felt my pussy beginning to boil, and I was hit by an absolute hurricane of an orgasm, making me roar with ecstasy as I buried my teeth in Tim’s shoulder. I hugged him to me with my legs and thrust my hips up at him as he also came, with a big thrust and a long, satisfied groan, my pussy walls clamping tightly around his dick.
I was in a bit of a daze after all that, but we had a shower together — where Tom sucked my pussy again while Tim soaped my breasts from behind — then we crammed into my Mini Cooper and I drove us back to my flat. We spent the whole night in bed together, and I lost count of the number of times I fucked or sucked the boys. At one point they sandwiched me again, and Tim entered my pussy while Tom simultaneously screwed my arse, which was another, quite incredible, experience. As they left my home about lunchtime on Saturday, looking very tired but satisfied, Tom gave me a long, deep kiss then, slipping a hand inside my bathrobe and cupping a breast, whispered, “Your ours now Nat. We’re going to have you whenever we want, as many times as we want.” I blushed, and my pussy twitched with anticipation at his words.
We didn’t have such things as morning after pills in those days, but I was lucky and didn’t fall pregnant. For the next few months the twins called round at my flat whenever they chose, usually with little or no warning. I felt incapable of resisting them, and obediently stripped out of my clothes as soon as they were through the door. They usually arrived together, but sometimes alone. Tom came most often, but I found I preferred Tim’s visits. He was quieter and less full of himself than his brother, and more tender both during and after sex; I came to think of it as being fucked by Tom but making love with Tim.
After the summer break Tom went away to university, and I saw no more of him. Tim, though, took a job locally and we continued to see each other. Together we learnt the skills of lovemaking, and each discovered how to give the other the maximum pleasure. Tim eventually moved away, but we’re still together now, more than 30 years later. Neither of us has ever married, and we sometimes go months without seeing each other, without even communicating, but whenever he shows up it’s as if nothing has ever changed: within two minutes of him ringing my doorbell we’re in bed together and in each other’s arms. Between times I often think about both the brothers; and look back fondly on the day when they first taught their teacher how I could derive so much joy from my body.
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