The Headmaster's Office 06: Twisting on the Gallows Pole

"Oh good lord," he whispered, his hands still on my shoulders, but his eyes now greedily drinking in the full curves of my breasts with the nipples hardening and standing proud as I anticipated the thrill of his touch. "You are extraordinary."

"That's nice," I smiled. "Shirt and pants, Sir."

"Huh?" his gaze returned reluctantly to my eyes.

"You abandoned your spots and you touched me. Two fouls. Shirt and pants."

He hadn't yet noticed that my panties were crotchless, but it was starting register that having me in my underwear was actually a preferred scenario to being naked -- and the sooner he was naked, the sooner he could enjoy the new pleasures that my underwear offered.

I watched him remove his trousers first as I kicked my dress aside, his cock long and hard and straining uncomfortably halfway down the leg of his lycra shorts. I resumed my position on the Twister mat as he opened his shirt and pulled it back from the hard, ropy muscles of his chest. I crouched down on the Twister mat with my knees apart, waiting for him to notice my pussy peeking out through the window in my panties. They weren't the French-knickers style, with loose legs and a long slit that always reminds me of men's Y-front briefs; they were bikini style, close fitting and curve-hugging. The crotch wasn't slitted; it was an open oval shape, embroidered around the edge to frame and display the vagina. Everything about this ensemble was designed not to cover and hide, but to present and enhance the female form so that it can be enjoyed both physically and visually.

As he crouched back down, his eyes registered the contrast between my shaved labia and the white lace. They flicked downwards, blinked and widened as he hitched another breath. I was pleased to see his cock throb and strain under his shorts as a small dark stain of pre-cum formed on the leg.

"Problem," I asked, smiling at him.

"You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you," he said, very seriously.

"Of course," I replied, touched that he noticed. "Maybe we can find a way for you to return the favour. Spin!"

"Left hand, yellow," said the phone.

~~~

The game had changed to one of cat and mouse; he spent the next dozen or so moves chasing me around the mat, trying to engineer positions that brought us into erotic contact. As part of the game, I tried to keep away from him, but finally I was forced into taking a spot that placed a breast right in front of his lips. Without hesitation, he took the hard nipple between his lips, kissing it and softly sucking it, lighting up little sparks of excitement as I felt his tongue glide over the sensitive tip and explore the little bumps of the areole.

"That was a lovely foul, Sir. Thank you," I breathed.

"Oh dear, did I just lose my last piece of clothing?" he said disingenuously.

"Mmm hmmm," I confirmed, my eyes locked on the thick contours of his cock beneath the tight lycra. It had been two weeks since I had had him inside me, and I was literally quivering with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see it again; every time I do -- no matter how often -- I can never quite grasp the physics of how something so long and thick can possibly enter something as tiny and tight as my vagina. I know in my head that I cannot take it all; my eyes always mark the invisible line seven inches from the tip and I wonder anew what those last two inches would feel like inside me, what it would be like to have his groin pressed into mine as we ground against each other.

"Would you like to do the honours?" he asked.

I nodded, swallowing hard, my heart hammering in my chest. I turned my eyes up to him. "No more fouls, OK? We're just playing for position."

He agreed and I got up on my knees in front of him, my face inches away from that straining bulge. I wanted to rip his shorts off, but I moved slowly and savoured the excitement building inside me, making my hands shake as I smoothed them over his covered thighs at the sides, around to his buttocks to squeeze the hard flesh there, and then slowly back around to the front. My left hand ran harmlessly over his thigh, but my right closed over the hardness of his cock that ran halfway down the leg of his shorts. I stroked its length, testing the firmness with the tips of my fingers.

Wanting to prolong my rediscovery of his cock, I got to my feet and walked behind him, my hand never leaving that wonderful hardness which would soon open me up and pin me to the floor. From behind I closed my eyes and moved both hands up over his stomach; fingers splayed, tracing the hard contours of his abdominal muscles. Standing close with my nipples pressed lightly against his back, I moved further up to his chest, feeling his strong pectorals and lightly brushing his own nipples with my fingertips, making them harden like mine.

Back down again, just a few breathless seconds away from my first handful of cock for a fortnight, my fingers reached his waistband and passed beneath without pause. Finally I closed my fingers around the root of his manhood; thumb curling over the top and fingers exploring underneath, touching his balls and stroking along that thick cum-carrying vein. I wanted to release him from his shorts before I explored the rest of his shaft, so I reluctantly brought both hands back up, hooked my thumbs into the waistband and slid them down over his hips. As I got to his thighs, I reached around and gently released his erection from the pants leg before lowering them down to the floor.

From my position behind him I still couldn't see my prize, but I wanted to feel it first; measure it with my hands before I did with my eyes. With my arms reaching around his body, I wrapped both hands around the base and held it like a sword, tilted up to the ceiling. For one perverse moment I almost made light-sabre sounds: humming and striking ... You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine. Maybe next time.

Now came the bit I loved: I shut my eyes again to concentrate and -- holding my right hand at the base -- I stroked ever so slowly upwards with the left, trying to guess when I would reach the end ... now ... no, now ... my hand was still moving ... no now ... oh my God, I still wasn't there! Finally I reached the head; my hands now so far apart that I was unable to comprehend that I was still holding two ends of the same extraordinary cock. Lord have mercy on me, it couldn't have grown since last time, could it?

My knees were shaking. Anticipation? Desire? Fear? I couldn't tell. On legs of jelly I circled back in front of him, still maintaining a grip on the base. I came in close -- my head only coming up to his chest -- and released his erection, allowing it rest against my cleavage. The quarter-cup bra lifted my breasts and held them about an inch apart; his cock was thicker than that so it rested on top rather than nestling between them. This made for an irresistible opportunity to tease him so I rose up on tip-toes to get the swell of my breasts higher than his knob -- I was just tall enough -- then as it fell back against the lace-covered underwire, I lowered back down, his thickness forcing my breasts apart, sliding between them as they pressed back against the incursion. Bending my knees, I continued lower, bringing the head to my mouth and greedily licking the drop of pre-cum from the tip. With my hands on his hips and his shaft trapped between my swelling breasts, I took him into my mouth, just the head, and tasted him, tracing the shape of his knob with my tongue, sucking and compressing it only for it to swell back twice as large between my lips as he pumped his cock-muscles.

I almost ruined our game by losing control; it would have been so easy to just give in to temptation and slide that monster down my throat. Reluctantly, I straightened my knees and took hold of him in my hand again, withdrawing him from the warm channel between my breasts. To my delight -- and his -- the bra did its job and snapped them back into position with a delicious wobble.

"Spin!" I called with a waver in my voice, and without bothering to resume our previous positions (I know I couldn't remember them) we began the final phase of Strip Twister. All previous rules were now utterly forgotten; this game had one goal only: to get as much erotic contact as possible. With each new move he tried to bring his cock to my mouth or breasts, and I tried to bring my breasts or pussy to his mouth. One or both of us would ignore directions from the spinner; we freely repositioned our hands and we placed knees and bottoms on the mat when we got tired. I don't know whether anyone really called Twister "Sex in a Box" in the 1980's, but I'm pretty sure this is not what Milton Bradley had in mind when they created the game.

Over the course of the next ten minutes we discovered that the most satisfying positions had me crab-like, on hands and feet with my body arched backwards, offering easy access to my pussy, breasts and mouth. In this position, he managed to wedge his cock between my breasts; first from below where I could crane forward and lick the bulging head; and then from above where I could take his balls in my mouth and suck and juggle them.

From here we conspired to interpret the next direction of the spinner as one that brought his face to my pussy. Still wearing the crotchless panties, my slit was gaping wide open and taking up the entire width of the embroidered window in the white lace. He kissed me there; lapping at the juices that were now running freely, his tongue probing gently at my entrance at first, but becoming more insistent, pressing deeper and opening me up.

Arched over me on his long arms and legs, his cock was frustratingly out of reach of my mouth. From my inside-out backwards-arched position, I stretched my neck up to try to reach but it was just too far away. I could feel the heat building in my vagina, his tongue bringing me to the next level of arousal. I still had plenty left in the tank before I came, but that swirling and probing was making my pussy throb with pleasure and I realised that soon I would need to stop the game just to satisfy my desires.

"Sir, I can't reach," I breathed.

Without taking his tongue from its important business between my legs, he lowered to his knees as I watched his cock come closer. I tipped my head back to catch the tip in my mouth and ended up chasing it all over the place as it swung left and right, sometimes laying along the length of my face and sometimes slipping off my cheek altogether. After five unsuccessful attempts he balanced on three limbs and -- still tonguing me lovingly -- brought a free hand back to hold his cock still while I wrapped my lips around it.

With my head tipped back, my mouth and open throat were perfectly aligned. Mr Gallows knows that I have no trouble swallowing his full length, having trained in the dorm with the much longer double-ended dildo Silver. With any other woman he would never dream of having her swallow his enormous cock; he had never encouraged me either, but I love the feeling of his long shaft sliding all the way into me. Even though it's a standard feature of our lovemaking, he always leaves me in control; he just tries to hold still for fear of hurting or choking me.

Like I said, I love him inside me -- the deeper the better -- so I usually just take a deep breath and swallow him all the way down, sucking and massaging his balls until I run out of air. It never occurred to me that he would want to do it any differently.

This time I was powerless; bent over backwards as I was, I couldn't move forwards or back. If he wanted to be swallowed then he was going to have to push it down there. He had only given me a few inches and I was desperately trying for more, imagining that if I sucked hard enough I could bring him to me. Letting out a muffled cry of frustration, I arched further, swaying back on my hands and toes to get a little more cock in my mouth. Still working on my pussy, now in a side-to-side action across my open lips, he finally got the message, pushing forward a little way to bring the head to the back of my throat.

I moaned positive encouragement so he would know I was ready for him. As he pressed a little harder, I swallowed, opening up my throat for him to slide tightly inside. He pushed slowly forward, entering me inch by inch as I sucked and lubricated the hot flesh passing between my lips to make it ready to swallow. I released a deep but muffled moan of satisfaction as his groin finally pressed into my lips, then without warning he started sliding back out.

Pulling free of the confines of my throat, I was able to take a breath and cried out for more. I thought he was just being extra careful, not wanting to suffocate me; but for fuck's sake he was only down there a couple of seconds. To my great and vocal relief he stroked back into me, slowly and deeply burying his nine inches balls-deep in my mouth before pulling all the way out again. I was about to moan a complaint when he pushed back down and I had to quickly swallow to allow him passage. All the way down again, he then braced my body from the other end with his face in my pussy and pushed his groin hard against my face, pumping his cock so that it swelled and bulged erotically in the tight confines of my throat.

When he pulled out again, only to plunge back down without giving me time to breathe, I finally worked out what was going on: I was getting throat-fucked. Oh my God! Had he wanted to do this all these months and never asked? Had he just let me call the shots as I held him in my throat while I sucked, all the while wanting to pull out and then thrust back inside? Hell, he'd probably wanted to do this his entire life! After all, I was the first and only one ever to swallow him.

He set up a rhythm of three or four short strokes; pulling out just enough for my throat to close so that he could open me back up again. Then he would go deep and push hard at the end, pumping and swelling inside me as I swallowed, massaging the length of his tool with my throat and tongue before he pulled out further, giving me a moment to breathe.

The feeling of all that flesh passing through my yawning jaws was electrifying. I could tell by the nervous spasms in his cock that he was just on the edge of control; this was surely a fantasy never seriously contemplated suddenly coming true. Knowing that I was fucking him as he had never dared to dream -- as no other woman had before -- just added to my excitement. He now set to work sucking my clitoris and I could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building. Part of me wanted to complete this act; to have him cum down my throat while I exploded with my own climax. Another part of me (the part that hadn't had any cock for two weeks) just wanted him to flip me over drive deep into my pussy.

Not without some regret, I stopped him the next time he withdrew to let me breathe by gently touching my teeth to his erection (a sure-fire attention-getter if ever there was one) and a muffled negative: "Huh-uh." Never one to outstay a welcome, he straightened his arms and legs, pulling out of my pussy and my mouth at the same wistful instant.

"I need to slow down," I apologised. "I'm not ready to finish with you just yet, Sir."

He looked at me through the gap between our bodies; a look of pure gratitude on his face for the amazing acts of oral gymnastics that I had performed on his manhood. "A few more spins, then Belinda?"

"Just a couple. Spin!"

"Left foot, red," said the phone.

Completely ignoring this direction, I gladly gave up my inside-out crab-walking position and flopped onto the mat on my back. Towering over me on all-fours, his cock was above and behind my head and pointing straight down at me. Target acquired. Rolling backwards on my shoulders, I raised my legs and bottom in the air and propped with my elbows to hold there, stockinged legs spread wide and straight around his body and -- with a little positioning -- the tip of his erection touching my open pussy lips.

"Left foot red?" he questioned.

"Red, pink, whatever," I said. "Don't feel constrained by rules. Just put something somewhere." I didn't get a response, then: "Please, Sir."

And with that he rocked forward a little, changing the angle of his cock to point straight down and seating his knob in my entrance. Then in one long, slow thrust he pushed all the way into me -- or at least as much as would fit before he bottomed out. This was rare for us; usually he has to painstakingly work his thick cock into me inch by inch, allowing me to stretch to accommodate his girth. I don't know what was different this time; certainly I was dripping wet from all the foreplay, maybe it was just the angle.

Whatever it was, it felt heavenly: my pussy pointed straight up in the air and his thick cock pistoning downwards into me. His first stoke bottomed out at six inches, but with each powerful thrust he was stretching my pussy and driving a little deeper, and each time I stretched -- instead of feeling pain -- I felt a little mini-orgasm explosion of pleasure. I have had him missionary, doggy, scissors, I've ridden him both forwards and backwards -- there was even that one magical time -- our first time -- when he picked me up and lowered me helplessly onto his shaft until I was impaled; but never has it felt like this. It was as if being upside down had moved all my innards further up to make room for more cock. Much more cock! He was seven inches in now -- which is as much as I have ever taken and still walked upright the next day -- and although he was pressing hard against my cervix with every thrust -- I still felt no pain.

Propped up on my shoulders with my neck and head on the floor, I was folded like a pocket knife and with my pussy right above my face, I could see everything he did to me in extreme close-up. I watched entranced as his thick erection drove powerfully through the soft white lace of my crotchless panties. With every downward stroke I watched him go a tiny bit deeper and fire off another wonderful eruption of pleasure in the depths of my womanhood. My wetness glistened on his cock and with every withdrawal I could see that shining high-water mark moving ever closer to his balls.

The thrill and excitement of being filled so completely -- over seven and half inches -- was building inside me. The little earthquakes of ecstasy each time he filled me were not completely waning after each thrust and as they merged into one, they built in intensity and I felt myself enter the beginnings of an orgasm that could no longer be held at bay. My leg muscles wanted to close in with the rising climax and I held them open with a force of will so that he could keep driving into me as I came.

Ecstasy blossomed outwards from my pussy and I cried for him to keep going deeper. Finally I could hold back my release no longer and locked my stockinged legs around his hips as my pussy closed tightly around his cock, making it impossible for him to continue thrusting. Writhing against him I lost my grip holding up my own hips and -- impaled and wriggling like a speared fish as I came -- my weight dragged him down towards my face. I goggled at the incredible sight barely a foot from my eyes: my pussy lips -- stretched to a soft light pink and still contracting and releasing uncontrollably around the thick root of his cock -- now with less than an inch remaining unconsumed. I followed the line of sight from there and past my shaved mons pubis to my stomach, trying to picture the point deep inside me where the tip of his monster cock must reach. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Where could it all be? God, it must be nearly up to my rib cage, but of course that would be impossible. Completely spent now, but not wanting to lose the erotic sight of his thickness buried almost balls deep in my womanhood, I brought up a hand to confirm with touch what my eyes already knew but my brain could not accept. I closed my fingers around his cock -- well, just one finger and a thumb, there was no room for more -- and rocked it back and forth, still as hard as forged iron, and felt the tip move against me -- inside me -- improbably deep in my core.