"Barely Legal" (always open to new writers)

(There is info at the bottom about joining this story.)



Thomas Howard straightened his tie in the mirror, then glanced a bit left in the reflection to the bed behind him. The girl -- not yet 19 but with the bedroom skills of a much older woman -- watched him intently; she was still naked, with one knee elevated a bit and the other laying to the side, presenting herself to him as a smile spread across her face.

"Sure you have to go?"

He returned her smile but said nothing, looking back into the mirror to check his appearance. He snatched up and pocketed his personals -- wallet, keys, Blackberry, and sunglasses -- then picked up the wad of cash and snapped open the money clip. He ripped away three hundred dollar bills and, with them still bent at an angle, set them on their side so that they'd be visible to her from across the room, where -- peeking back to her -- she was touching herself gently, teasing him.

He lifted his jacket from the nearby chair and laid it over a fore arm, then turned to look at her. He ogled her; she was perfect, with the shapely body and flawless face of a super model. It was hard to believe that she was simply a student from school ... his student, from his class, at the school that he taught at. Just another beautiful young woman.

Of course, this one he was fucking ... for money. That set her aside from the other students. Well, from most of the other students. Currently, he had six students working for him in one capacity or another. He'd never had so many of the girls doing his bidding at one time in the eight years he'd been at Martin Academy. It worried him sometimes; it was a risk, taking on so many of them. But he couldn't help himself; they were ... so erotic.

"Wait an hour before you leave," he told her unnecessarily. This was hardly the first time they'd met for sex ... or other activities. She knew the rules. But he always repeated them, to be sure that they weren't caught together on the same block, let alone in the same motel or -- god forbid -- the same room. "Use the back. Go straight home. I'll see you Monday."

She donned a pouting expression, rolling toward him and striking a sexy pose. "Can't you stay?"

He cocked his head at her, as if to ask Really...? He brought her back to reality, commenting, "Your money is on the dresser."

Her pouting expression faded to disappointment. She laid back, lifting her near knee to hide her groin and laying an arm over her chest to conceal her breasts. "You don't have to be mean about it."

He donned his jacket, hesitated a moment, then moved and sat on the edge of the bed. When she didn't look to him, he reached out and took her wrist and urged her to face him. When she did, he said coldly, "Don't make this personal."

"How can I NOT make it personal?" she snapped. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She looked away as her eyes glazed over, then looked sharply back to him, saying, "We're lovers. How can that not be personal?"

"We're not lovers," he contradicted softly. "You fuck me for money."

"But I'd fuck you for free," she said, slipping her free hand up the inside of his thigh toward his crotch, eventually cupping it over his semi-hardened penis. "Hell ... I'd pay you to fuck me."

He took hold of her hand to remove it; when she refused to let him move it away gently, he gripped her roughly and lifted it away.

"Ow!" Her pained expression lasted only a moment, quickly turning into a knowing expression. She liked pain, and she knew he knew that and would understand what was going through her mind right now. She tried to feign anger, but couldn't hide her smile. "You're hurting me."

He released his grip and stood, looking down to her as she again shifted her legs and arm to reveal herself to him. He chuckled and shook his head, then turned away and headed for the door. "Monday. Don't be late to class."

He'd opened the door before she snapped, "Why are you such a dick sometimes?"

He half stepped into the hall and turned to grip the door handle with the opposite hand; he did this to inconspicuously look up and down the hall to ensure there was no one within ear shot or view of him. He looked back to her and, after ogling her for a moment and thinking, You know, you really could stay a bit longer..., he answered her, "We have a business arrangement. You need to remember that. I like fucking you as much as you like fucking me. But ... you work for me. You can stop any time you want. You chose this. I didn't force you into this. Are we clear...?"

She simply stared at him for a long moment, her eyes growing angrier with every passing moment. Just as he began to step back to close the door, she mumbled, "I didn't like that man. He ... he wasn't nice to me."

Thomas looked up and down the hall again, then stepped back inside the room, leaving the door cracked behind him. "I know. That's just the way he is."

She looked to him with a desperate expression. "Then why...? Why did you make me--"

She stopped as she saw him lift his hand and point to the dresser, to the three bills sitting on their edge. She laid back again, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before mumbling, "I don't want to do this anymore."

"That's your choice," he said, moving back to her, leaning over the bed with a hand pressed to the mattress on either side of her. He kissed her softly, then again more passionately. Just as she reached up to embrace him, he rose to height again, shrugging her off. He pulled his money clip out again, removed the remaining bills, and -- without counting them -- dropped them on the bed beside her. "It's been a good run--" He turned and headed for the door again. "--and I am sorry it has to end."

"Thomas...?" she pleaded. "Thomas! Please don't go. I didn't mean it."

He opened the door and turned back, finding her standing near the bed with a panicked look. He stared at her for a long moment, then gave her a polite, non-committal smile, and responded, "It's up to you." He glanced down to the thousand or so dollar on the rumpled bedding, then looked back to her. "Consider that pre-payment. I have something for you next Friday."

She took a small step toward him, asking, "Will I ... will I like it better than ... you know ... this time."

Thomas stepped backward into the hall and smiled knowingly. "Probably not."

He closed the door and headed down the hall, smiling to the room attendant before turning and heading down the stairs for his car parked at the opposite end of the motel from where her car was parked. He fired it up and waited for the condensation to clear from the window. He looked back to the building, finding the still naked girl standing in the window, looking down at him.

Seeing her like that, exposing herself to him and anyone else who might be looking upward from the street, reminded him of why she continued to work for him. It wasn't because she liked being his lover, although she claimed again and again -- and verified it with her multiple orgasms -- that he spun her top like no one ever had before. And it wasn't for the money either, although the two or three thousand she made a month went a long way toward building her tuition fund for Harvard next year.

No, she continued to have sex with him -- and others, when he asked her to do so -- because he had recordings of her doing things no good girl from a good family should be doing. He'd promised her that they would remain hidden away for all time, even if she quit working for him; he'd promised that they were only insurance that she didn't reveal their association with one another. And although he was being honest with her, she didn't believe him.

She'd been shocked when he'd revealed their existence to her, even threatening to go to someone about it, although she had had no idea who she would go to. She'd avoided him for weeks, arriving to his class at the last moment and being the first to leave so as not to have to talk to him. And he'd allowed her her space; he wasn't trying to blackmail her but was instead just wanting to ensure she didn't blackmail him.

And eventually, she came back to him, begging him to promise that the recordings would indeed remain hidden. And then sleeping with him. And then taking his money. And then, finally, sleeping with other people ... for their money, too. And it would be this way until she graduated next spring, he knew. She belonged to him, he knew; she liked the money too much to quit, and she liked the sex with him and, sometimes, with his clients; and, he suspected, she liked the taboo adventure of being a bad girl.

He pulled out his Blackberry and dialed a number; he memorized numbers rather than putting them in the contacts list or, again god forbid, speed dials. He threw the car into drive as the phone started ringing and head headed away toward home.

A female voice sounded in his ear, a twinge of desperation in its tone. "Are you coming over now?"

"I'll be there in half an hour," Thomas answered. "How did the job go?"

There was a moments hesitation before she answered, this time with a sound of pride, "They want to see me again."

"I told you they would," he said, then mouthing silently Yes!. He made a quick turn and headed up the freeway ramp. "Did you get the information I wanted?"

"Yes," she said simply.

Again he silently mouthed his delight, told her goodbye, and pocketed the phone. The couple she'd serviced had the inside track on a piece of property Thomas had been eying for months. And he'd known that this second young woman's pillow talk would get him the info he needed to secure it.

Thomas turned on the stereo, selected a favorite song on a pop music CD, and danced against his seat belt as he sped the car up the freeway, feeling pleased with life...


(If you are interested in joining this story, please PM me or see this link for more about the story.)

His name was Price, which coincidentally was what he was paying Thomas to fulfill his dreams.

Price wasn't alone these days, but he was lonely. His wife of twenty years paid him no attention these days, literally; their longest dialogue in three months had been Did you pay the electric bill? And sex...? Forget about it; they hadn't touched one another in that way in over a decade.

Then Richard Price met Thomas Howard, and during a three drink conversation in a quiet downtown bar, the men had come to realize that they had something to offer one another. Richard, an exotic car salesman, had a classic, antique Jaguar for sale; and Thomas had a classy, young school girl for "rent".

"You're a ... a pimp?" Richard had whispered softly that night so many months earlier.

"Call me an opportunity maker, Rich," Thomas had clarified. "You're lonely, and you'd like the company, and comfort, of a beautiful, young woman ... correct?"

Richard had hesitated, looking around yet again for eavesdroppers, then nodded excitedly.

"I can make that happen," Thomas had continued. "I can send you ... the girl of your dreams, Rich ... and you won't feel lonely, ever again."

And since then, every Thursday night for going on nearly the full school year, Richard had waited anxiously at the Motel 6 on the outskirts of town for the girl of his dreams ... although, girls might be a more accurate word, as he had partaken of six of the young women from Martin Academy.

Recently, though, he'd been meeting exclusively with just one girl, a 19 year old who called herself Lulu, although Richard suspected that wasn't her real name, of course. His heart jumped as he heard the loud engine of the classic Camaro he was loaning her from the car lot. He leaped from the bed and peaked out the window, finding her emerging, still dressed in her school uniform; the tight, white blouse emphasized her young, firm bosom and gave hints of the black lingerie below, and the short skirt, tall knee socks, and unauthorized 4 inch heels showed off long, athletic legs.

Richard unlocked and cracked the door, then stepped back to sit on the bed and wait, anxious; his dick was as hard as it had ever been, for tonight they were doing things together that he'd never done with a woman before.

The Academy girl entered, smiled, closed the door, and greeted him politely. She set her bag aside and without hesitation, unbuttoned and shed her blouse and skirt, turning to give Richard a pose of her beautiful form.

Richard was impressed. He'd revealed to her his fascination with the actresses of the 40's, 50's, and 60's, particularly Marilyn Monroe. Instead of coming to him tonight in her school girl persona -- pig tails and innocent smiles -- she'd come to him as a mature woman ... who knew exactly what he wanted and was ready to give it to him.

"We need to talk," Lulu said softly, as she moved nearer to the bed. When he asked about what, she smiled ... dropped her lingerie to the floor, revealing her perfect body ... and answered, "I need a new stereo for my car..."

"Of course," he said eagerly, reaching for her, pulling her up close between his parted knees. "Anything you want."

"Good," she said, dropping slowly to her knees to begin unfastening the clothes hiding him from her. "Because there's something else I need from you, too..."


Looking for Lulu. We can write this scene, or start with the first time she worked for Thomas as a flashback, or skip ahead to her getting what she asked for, which you will notice I left open for you to decide upon. PM me.

Friday, 3pm:

Thomas had no classes on Fridays; it was his day to take up the slack in the Counseling Office. So far, he'd dealt with the participants of a cat fight in the good locker room, lectured three separate students on their own individual alterations to the school's mandatory uniform, and advised one of the brighter students about why skipping school to attend a rave in the next county wasn't a plus on her record and, therefore, wouldn't help get her into Yale the upcoming school year.

It was, in other words, a typical Friday. So far, anyway.

Thomas pushed his chair back and propped his feet upon the opened, bottom drawer of his antique desk. He looked out the office window, to the student sitting in the Quad, just ten feet beyond the glass, her eyes set firmly upon him. She was young -- barely 18 -- sweet, and innocent ... and she wanted to sleep with him.

Thomas had been chaperoning one of the school's many annual dances -- most affairs with nearby All Boy Schools, but this particular one with a coed Prep School just across the state border -- when Shizuka approached Thomas and asked him to dance.

"Teachers can't dance with students, Zuki," he'd told her. "You know that."

She'd leaned in closer and, just barely audible over the pounding music, asked, "Can they have sex with them?"

When Thomas only smiled, chuckled, and gently shook his head -- not to indicate the answer of no but to show his surprise at the question -- Shizuka moved a bit closer and asked, "You understand that I'm asking you if you want to--"

"I'm very aware of what you're asking, Shizuka," Thomas had cut in. He'd nodded his head out toward the writhing teens and commanded, "Go dance. We'll talk about this later."

"Later tonight?" she'd asked hopefully.

"No, later later," he said, turning to pass her; he was heading toward a trio of teachers, where he knew she would not pursue the subject any further, finishing, "Go have fun ... and see me in my office Friday."

And now, here it was Friday. And now, here was Zuki, sitting under the blossoming Cherry tree with a longing look in her dark eyes. Thomas was no stranger to love-sick students; teenagers, hormones raging, few men on the campus to be had in the first place, and Thomas not looking all to unsightly either. Once a month, the Staff had their obligatory training session on proper interaction between adults and children, between teachers and students; and once a month, Thomas prayed that no new accusations surfaced concerning his own interaction with his female charges, whether actual or presumed.

And now, here he was, staring through the glass at a young woman who had already professed her desire for him and only needed for him to acknowledge what she knew he was feeling. Thomas had never indicated any interest in the 18 year old, not that it was necessary. All of the males on campus -- from the Administrators to the Teachers to the Custodians and the Groundskeeper -- fantasized about Zuki.

She had been a world class gymnast until a recent ankle injury, yet she still participated in her sport. She liked to parade about campus in her leotard or singlet rather than her uniform, despite repeated warnings that it was improper attire. Life came to a stop when Zuki passed by in her second skin, and not just among the males on the grounds; the other females -- from teen students to adult Staff -- took notice as well, though it was sometimes hard for Thomas to determine whether their interest was born of envy for the girl's perfect form, yearning to be close to it, or simply disgust for the way she flaunted it about the school.

Thomas had masturbated often to the image of Zuki laid out upon some gymnastics apparatus. And now, it seemed, he wouldn't have to have sex alone with the young beauty; she might actually be there with him, next time. The only problem was how to pull this off without getting caught. Zuki was already being far more open about her desire for him than was safe, for either of them. Since the dance six days earlier, she'd made the Lounge just across the hall from his classroom her second home, sitting there during free periods to stare at him through the small window in the door; or hurrying to the hall at days end to walk beside him as he made his way out to the parking lot to leave for the day.

"You can't keep this up," he'd whispered to her at least five or six times over the course of the week. "Friday ... you come to my office at day's end on Friday ... and we'll talk."

He hadn't seen hide nor dark hair of her Thursday or earlier today, and now she was here, waiting to be called into his office ... to discuss their future. Of course, the proper thing for a teacher to do was to politely instruct a student that personal interactions with a school Staff member were inappropriate and that she should look elsewhere for her sexual activities.

But ... that wasn't Thomas. He liked fucking the girls of Martin Academy. He was careful about his affairs with them; he'd been sleeping with the private school's attendees for most of the eight years he'd been as Martin's and, other than suspicions and one case of he said, she said that didn't go anywhere, he'd never been formally accused of doing anything inappropriate with the girls.

But Zuki ... she was a little hasty in her quest for him, and a little more public than Thomas cared for. She was the type of girl who killed a guy's career. He wanted her, that was certain; and he would have her, that was also certain. Thomas just had to figure out how to handle her in a less conspicuous way.

He looked through the glass to the outer office and found only the ancient, half deaf reception sitting at her corner desk, perusing yet another one of her Cat Fancier magazines. Then he gestured Shizuka toward the building's entrance. She snatched up her book bag and was flying out of the Quad and into the building in a flash.

As he waited, Thomas reminded himself that this was a mistake...


Looking for someone to play Shizuka. She's obviously infatuated and careless in her lust for Thomas. PM me.

Last December:


Thomas punched a button on the cell, then lifted the little phone to his ear. A moment later he asked simply, "Ready?"

He pocketed the phone and looked to the student beside him. He drew a deep breath, exhaled, then asked the same question to her. "Ready?"

The young woman in a Martin's Academy uniform hesitated before nodded tentatively. "Yes ... yes ... I ... I think so."

"Think doesn't cut it," Thomas said softly. "You're either ready for this or your not."

The girl looked to the door of the Athletics Building and took a moment to consider her answer. She stood a bit taller, taking on an air of confidence, then announced firmly, "Yes. I can do this. I want to do this."

Thomas considered the student for a moment, concerned not about whether or not she could go through with it, but with how each of them would react if she didn't. If she was unable to perform, would she also be unable to keep the failure to herself? Or would she feel compelled to talk about the evening with one of her girl friends.

That was, of course, Thomas's perpetual worry, with any and all of the students working with him after hours. Many of these girls were referred to him by woman already working with Thomas. And while it was good to know that he likely always would have contacts to bring in more performers, all of this chit chat was also the method by which Thomas could so easily be brought down.

"Let's go, then," he said, deciding to deal with the possibility of failure, if it came, later when it came. He urged the girl forward, into the Athletics Building, and side by side they entered, made their way down the long hall, descended the stairs, and -- a moment later -- passed into the Girls Locker room.

The student stopped short, her mouth dropping open as she exclaimed, "Miz Carmichael?"

The teacher was wearing one of Martins Academy's uniforms -- or most of it anyway -- in a fashion that few of the girls had probably even played with in their own bedrooms. The black knee length skirt was pushed up to her waist, revealing her long, fit legs and firm buttocks. Miz C had shed the uniform vest, and her fully unbuttoned blouse was tied in a knot just below the full bosom, wonderfully displayed by a black push up bra. She wore her dark blond hair in pig tails, accentuated with fluffy pink hair ties.

If she had been 4 years old, someone would have called her cute. But at 24 years old, she was one hundred percent sex appeal, sitting atop a wood study desk with her knees elevates to give just a slight peek at the pink panties concealing her personal space below.

My ... god..." the student mumbled as her eyes walked all about the form of her Physics Teacher. "I don't ... I don't get it. Does she...?"

She looked to Thomas for answers, but instead of explaining, he just pointed toward Miz C and urged the girl forward. When the student was closer to the sexy teacher, Miz C dropped her legs, resting her warm thighs on the cold desk top with a quick expression of surprise.

Miz C gestured the girl closer, then began giving her a lesson on how to dress for success if she was going to become part of Mister Howard's troupe. The teacher unbuttoned the younger woman's blouse a bit, shaped her own ample bosom a bit by rearranging the girl's bra, then pulled the standard issue shirt up higher on her waist until the lower seam was in the middle of the young woman's thighs. We'll work on your presentation more tomorrow ... before you go out on your first assignment."

"What is it?" the student asked. "My first assignment, I mean."

Miz C looked to Thomas for a response. When she received a slight shake of the man's head, she told the young woman, "Well, sweetie ... we'll talk about that more tomorrow. For now ... you know why you've been selected, yes...? To meet me here ... tonight ... like this?"

The student's eyes dropped quickly to the floor. A moment later, she mumbled, "I didn't know it would be you, Miz C."

Miz C took the girl's arms and pulled her closer. She forced the girl's face up, looking into her eyes as she said, "Hey ... forget that it's me. Just imagine it's someone you know ... someone you really like ... someone you want to do this to, because you care."

I do like you, Miz C," the student said with a smile.

"Then this will be easy," MiZ C assured her, squeezing her shoulders in her hands. "Now ... go ahead."

The student hesitated for a moment, then -- moving forward and, with Miz C's help, pushing her waist in between the teacher's legs until their groins were touching -- kissed the older woman, first soft, then with parted lips, then with an exploring tongue. As the two kissed, the girl slid her hands up the older woman's thigh, up under the raised skirt, where they took hold of the waist band of the woman's panties and began pulling them downward.

And all the while, Thomas stood in silence, watching from across the locker room, hard as a rock. He had discovered the student's desire for other female students several weeks earlier, then -- when she'd tried to bribe her way out of a Suspension letter by offering herself to Thomas -- and shortly afterwards learned that her scholarship to Martin's Academy was being revoked, he made a proposition to her.

Which brought them here ... now.


Looking for someone to write the student, the teacher, or both. We don't have to pick up the scene here; he can consider it a flash back and move on, or we can continued from right here.