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searching for featured naked men and women engaged in various sex acts. She finally found a photo; actually, a series of photo that she'd been looking for.

Miss Harper did not and could not imagine engaging in masturbation. She was well aware that many of the boys here at Wilkerson were practitioners of such a disgusting habit; but was unaware that girls and women also engaged in such a filthy exercise. However, she did note that involuntarily her panties were damp, sometimes more than damp when she finished scanning those sinful magazines.

When Randall Ewing arrived at her flat, Miss Claudia Harper greeted him professionally. She was wearing a flared skirt which came well below her knees. Of course, her legs were crossed. Her loose blouse gave no hint of her breasts; it just wouldn't be right.

"Please, Mr. Ewing, have a seat." She pointed to the couch in her sitting room. She sat opposite him in a matching chair. "Let me get right to the point; I don't think you were ill the other day. Do you want to tell me what you were doing?"

"Umm-ummm, I-I was . . ." He was blushing. He knew he was caught, but how?

"Don't lie to me, young man."

"I-I was . . ."

"Let me tell you what you were doing." She took a magazine which she'd placed under her own Good Housekeeping. It was open to a page. "You were looking at a magazine like this; you were naked and satisfying yourself. Isn't that right?"

The magazine was open to a series of photos of a man on his knees while a naked woman sat with her legs spread.

"Ummm, I-I . . ."

Miss Harper then asked him the long traditional question: "Mr. Ewing, have you ever thought about eating pussy?"

Like others before him, Randall Ewing began his journey to sexual satisfaction.

Within a half hour after he'd arrived at the headmistress' home, he was on his knees, under her skirt. He discovered that she wasn't wearing stockings, and to his delight, not even panties.

Unlike many of the others before him, Randall was not caught with a girl. He didn't have a girlfriend; had never had a girlfriend. All he knew about girls is what he'd seen in those magazines; of which he was a prolific reader. Not really a reader, but you know what I mean.

Miss Harper didn't know if he had a girlfriend, but she did know that he was a connoisseur of those magazines. At least once a month after Miss Knowlton informed her of the tradition, she'd found one of those ‘skin magazines' as they were sometimes called, under his bed.

Sure, other boys had them, too, but not a month went by that she didn't find one under Randall Ewing's bed. Those other boys usually had magazines showing naked women. Not Randall. Invariably the magazines Miss Harper found under his bed showed men and women engaged in sex acts. Sex acts that included, but not limited to pussy eating.

Under Miss Harper's skirt, Randall had no idea what to do, but by the time he left Friday night, for the first time in his life, he'd tasted pussy. Of course, it was the first time. His friends were wrong. Pussy didn't smell funny, and no it didn't taste or smell like dead fish either. Randall Ewing thought pussy tasted delicious; at least Headmistress Harper's. He wanted to taste it again.

As for Miss Harper. She was in her element. She'd been trained as a teacher. Friday evening, she thought she did her best teaching job. Albeit not in any subject the Wilkerson School or any school for that matter, would approve. She liked it that Mr. Ewing was an enthusiastic, if awkward learner. She liked it that he wanted more. He never did get to her clitoris that Friday, but it was a start. Next week he'd be back for his second lesson.

It wasn't to be.

Early Saturday morning, Miss Harper was still in her robe and had just put water on for tea when her doorbell rang.

Looking out her window, she saw young Randall Ewing standing on her front porch.

Her heart was racing; it wouldn't do to have one of her students calling on her at this time of the morning; AND AT HER HOME!!!

"Mr. Ewing, what are you doing here?" She let him in and quickly closed the door.

He hadn't slept well. He jerked off and then jerked off again, thinking of Miss Harper's pussy. It was after midnight when he decided that he just had to see Miss Harper. Since then, Randall had practiced what he was going to say. "Umm, Miss Harper, when I first came here yesterday afternoon, you asked me if I ever thought about eating pussy."

"Of course, I remember that."

"Umm, all I thought about all night was eating YOUR pussy. If you'll let me . . ."

"I see, well, Mr. Ewing. Not here in the living room."

Under her robe, Claudia Harper wore a loose nightgown. As was common; she wore nothing under it. She took the robe off as she led Randall to her bedroom. Her pussy was already wet.

She sat on the edge of her bed and hiked her floor-length nightgown above her knees.

Randall Ewing did not wait to be asked or ordered; he got on his knees in front of her. "Ma'am, you know yesterday was a first for me. And I must say I've never tasted anything as sweet as your pussy. Please, Miss Harper."

"So, you're here because you want to taste my pussy again?" It was a question.

Before he could answer, Claudia Harper's nightgown was bunched up to her waist and her legs were spread.

"Yes, ma'am." Randall didn't wait for permission or instructions. "Thank you, ma'am."

For the next fifteen minutes, Miss Harper let him give her what one of the magazines she impounded called a pussy massage. "That's it, Randall, massage my pussy with your tongue."

She didn't guide him to her clitoris; not yet. Maybe not even today. The headmistress liked that he said ‘please' and ‘thank you.' She'd have to commend his parents for the good manners they taught him when they came for a visit. "Mr. and Mrs. Ewing, your son always says please and thank you. You should be very proud." She smiled to herself.

It was 1971. Those rock and roll bands with the long hair were very popular among young people. Miss Harper gently pulled Randall Ewing by his hair, "when you came here this morning, didn't you say something about my sweet taste?"

"Yes ma'am. I've never tasted anything as sweet as your pussy."

She smiled, and pushed his head back down. "Mr. Ewing, you can tell me that all the time."

He was eighteen; he never got tired and she never got tired of getting a pussy massage. Morning turned into afternoon and still his tongue stayed busy. Although to be fair, he did come up for air once in a while; "Miss Haper, your pussy tastes so good."

"Mr. Ewing, by tastes good, do you mean delicious?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am, delicious."

What he didn't tell her was that his cock was trying to bust out of his pants. Sometime around noon she heard him groan and groan again. She had no idea why. Miss Harper just assumed that he was enjoying her pussy as much as she was enjoying his tongue.

Yes, she'd periodically made noises. No, she didn't have an orgasm. She'd read about them in those sleazy magazines, but had never experienced one. However, Randall's tongue massaging her pussy felt good; good enough that she softly moaned and sighed.

It was when she indicated that she'd had enough and Randall stood up, that she saw the wet spot on the front of his pants and an unusually large bulge. "Mr. Ewing, is that what eating my pussy does to you?"

Randall was embarrassed and tried to cover himself. Too late. "Ummm, Miss Harper, I-I couldn't help myself."

"It's okay. Now, run along. I'll see you next Friday." Secretly, she was pleased that her old pussy had that effect on young Randall Ewing.

Just like Saturday, Sunday morning early, Randall Ewing rang Headmistress Claudia Harper's doorbell. "Ma'am, I just had to see you. I think you know what I want. What I need."

"Mr. Ewing, you cannot be doing this. We have a scheduled meeting on Friday. You'll just have to wait until then. Good-bye, Mr. Ewing."

Of course, she was pleased that he wanted her; wanted to eat her pussy. She tried to imagine how anxious he'd be by Friday.

She also tried to imagine what he'd be doing when he got back to his room. She was certain she knew. After all, she caught him once.

Miss Harper found one of those magazine. This one, and the one she was looking for, featured women on their knees in front of men. She couldn't take her eyes off the men. They seemed big; but not nearly as big as when she saw Randall. Comparatively, his seemed huge.

The headmistress didn't masturbate, but she did spend much of the day in bed, perusing one magazine after the other. And her pussy got almost as wet as when Mr. Ewing's tongue was massaging it.

Back in his room, Randall Ewing didn't need a magazine. He was disappointed that he would not have a chance to taste Miss Harper's sweet pussy today. He crawled into bed, wearing only his boxers and fantasized about her pussy. His hand was inside his boxers. It had been hard since he made his way to her house early this morning.

Friday could not come soon enough; in the meantime, his hand would have to do.

TO BE CONTINUED

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