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"I'll bet you'd like to kiss it." The headmistress pushed his head forward.

For the next hour, Albert kissed Daisy Roberson's muff. It took only a few minutes before he was no longer using his lips, but at Miss Roberson's direction, his tongue was sliding up and down her slit.

Every Saturday for the next month, Albert Harris arrived early at the headmistress' home and spent hours joyfully tasting her muff.

In between, Daisy Roberson became an avid reader of those salacious novels she found under the boys' mattresses.

By the third Saturday, she directed his tongue to her clitoris or as she called it, her joy button. "Right there, Albert, right there makes me so happy." After her third orgasm on that particular Saturday, Miss Roberson was beside herself and not thinking, grabbed Albert Harris by the hair and used words from those disgusting novels that she never thought would cross her lips, "you like muff diving, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. You have the most delicious muff. Please, can I have some more of your muffy." Albert didn't wait for an answer.

"OOOOOOH, OOOOOOH, MR. HARRIS, MR. HARRIS. KEEP PLEASING MY MUFF. MY MUFF LOVES YOUR TONGUE. OOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOH." It was almost a whisper as she basked in the joy of her orgasm.

When the headmistress wasn't busy with her work and the boys were in class, she made it her business to go into the boys' rooms and confiscate their salacious, scandalous magazines and novels. She'd spend hours and hours reading them.

Some of the language shocked her; some of it, like with muff became involuntarily part of her own vocabulary but only when she was entertaining men like young Albert Harris.

One Saturday morning, she'd been reading the most disgusting piece of trash you could imagine, when Albert knocked on her door. She was in the midst of using her fingers; something she considered sinful, but addicting. She didn't bother to put on her knickers. "Albert," she said, sitting down spreading her legs for him and raising the hem of her dress well above her knees, "are you ready for your fish dinner?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." He was quickly under her dress. He had a big smile on his face. He didn't think that the old headmistress knew such language. It was common in many of those ‘dirty' stories he read and among his friends at school.

Two weeks later, Headmistress Daisy Roberson thought it was time that, as tradition required, she share Mr. Harris with the nurse at the Cavendish School, Miss Cordelia Sanders. After all, it was Miss Sanders who brought young Albert to her attention when she caught him spying on her girls swimming in the canal; naked.

For years she'd been passing on those despicable magazines and novels to the nurse. And of course, five years earlier they'd shared Will Booker's enchanting tongue. It was time.

"So, we meet again Mr. Harris," Nurse Sanders said as Albert stood in front of her.

Miss Sanders loved Will Booker's tongue, but always feared they'd be caught. She came up with a flimsy but plausible plan should they be found out. Today, she implemented it with Albert Harris. "Mr. Harris, you should get undressed so I can examine you. That's why Miss Roberson sent you here, isn't it?"

For a moment, Albert was taken aback. He knew why he was here, and it wasn't for an examination. It was to taste the nurse's muff. However, every time he was under the headmistress' dress, his cock was trying to bust out of his pants. He was thankful for the relief.

Nurse Sanders had only seen a naked man in nursing school, and then only when she observed an autopsy. Of course, then there was no blood rushing into the deceased's penis.

In preparation for Albert Harris' visit, she wasn't wearing any knickers and as he stood before her with his penis already at full mast, her thighs were already slick and sticky from reading certain passages from those unspeakable novels.

Nurse Sanders knew that Albert was here to taste her muff, and looking at his engorged manhood, he was certainly looking forward to it. She always liked asking Will Booker why he was here. She did the same with young Albert Harris.

"Ma'am, I'm looking forward to a very tasty seafood dinner."

"Well, what are you waiting for." She had a smile on her face as she sat down, lifted her skirt and spread her legs. Yes, seafood dinner was one of the many vulgar terms used at the time for what Mr. Harris was about to do. Will Booker had become a master; she could only hope that Albert Harris had the same skill.

It didn't take long for Nurse Sanders to realize that Headmistress Daisy Roberson had trained young Albert well. Very well.

Going back almost eighty years, the tradition continued. The boys at the Wilkinson School for Young Men knew nothing about foreplay or the clitoris. Once they were shown where it was, they went right for it.

The reactions of the headmistresses and the nurses at the Cavendish School for Young Women were similar. They both loved the soothing feeling of his tongue sliding up and down their slit and when Albert tried to stick his tongue in their hole.

The difference was when they had an orgasm. Miss Daisy Roberson started to moan softly as that orgasm built. She'd wrap her legs around his head, and slowly fucked his face. The ‘softly' and ‘slowly' didn't change when it happened.

As for Nurse Cordelia Sanders. It was a good thing that her home was a few hundred meters from other houses. Like Miss Roberson she wrapped her legs around Albert's head, but then it was like she exploded; humping his face hard, bouncing her ass off the chair and she was loud. "OOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOH ALBERT, OOOOOOOH ALBERT, OOOOOOOOOH."

Weeks later, when he was no longer under her dress, Nurse Sanders pulled at his hair as her orgasm overwhelmed her. He wasn't under her dress because her dress was scandalously up to her waist.

Speaking of weeks later. Cordelia Sanders always made Albert Harris undress. "Albert, let me see your manhood. Let me see what muff diving does to it."

He stood in front of her. "Oh, Albert that might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Even when he masturbated while looking at naked women; sometimes naked women with a cock in their mouth, his cock was never harder. It was as if it was trying to escape from his foreskin.

"Please, Miss Sanders, I'd like another seafood dinner."

"Of course, you would. Show Miss Sanders' muff how much you love it."

Both the headmistress and the nurse could not have been more pleased when Albert Harris insisted on more of their muff. Naturally, they accommodated him. "Mr. Harris, my muff would love more of your oh so talented tongue. It's all yours." They'd spread their legs wider.

TO BE CONTINUED

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