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No, Randall Ewing did not have a girlfriend, but he couldn't help but blab about what he did have. Not in any specifics, but clear enough so that his father understood.

With his son leaving for university in Dublin, Mark Ewing thought he might introduce himself to the headmistress.

It was the 1970's, courting in the traditional sense was no longer common. But that's what Mark Ewing did. First inviting the headmistress to dinner and then dinner and a movie.

For her part, she was thrilled at the attention. Like his son, Mark Ewing was a handsome man, and of course, much closer to her age. From the start, however, she wondered what his son might have shared about their ‘relationship.'

It wouldn't do for the headmistress of the prestigious Wilkerson School to take the initiative. Even rumors of such could ruin her reputation and her position. Nonetheless, three month after the last time she had Randall's tongue in her pussy and his cock in her mouth, Miss Claudia Harper invited Mark Ewing for "coffee" after watching a movie.

One thing led to another. Miss Harper discovered that Mark Ewing had a tongue like his son only he needed no direction. Mark Ewing discovered that his son wasn't wrong in his hints about the taste of the headmistress' pussy.

That first night, all Mark Ewing did was eat. For his age, he had the same stamina as Randall. "Ooooooooh, Mr. Ewing, Mr. Ewing, your tongue, ooooh, oooooh, ooooooh your tongue. Please, Mr. Ewing, keep giving me your tongue."

She may have taught Randall to eat her pussy, but Mark Ewing had years and years of experience. Sometimes his deceased wife wondered how they ever got around to conceiving Randall. Not that she ever complained.

Sometimes Mark was disappointed when his wife was having her monthly. "Baby, I just love eating your sweet pussy so much," he whined.

"Just a few more days, Mark, and I'll make sure my pussy is nice and clean for you. I'm just as anxious as you are."

There was no whining that first night with Miss Harper. "Yes, Mr. Ewing, yes, oooooh, yes, your tongue is so good to me. Keep doing me, keep doing my pussy." It was not her intent to use the word ‘pussy.' Afterall, even though she was lying naked on her bed with a man she hardly knew with his tongue in there, she was a lady. However, she couldn't contain herself. Mark Ewing's tongue work was far superior to his son's.

She was climbing the walls, tearing at the sheets, pulling his hair and much louder than she'd ever been. None of that bothered Mark Ewing, he just kept doing her clitoris time and time again.

An hour later he was still between her legs, "I should go; perhaps dinner tomorrow?" He was leaving her in a state she'd never experienced.

"Mr. Ewing, it would be impertinent, crass and far beneath the dignity of a woman of my station to suggest that you should consider having the same type of dinner you've been enjoying for the past hour or so."

"Mrs. Harper, what a fantastic idea. Should I plan on arriving shortly after dark?"

"That would be ideal. Mr. Ewing, I hope you don't think it too bold of me to leave my door unlocked and lying right here waiting for you."

"I hope I can meet your expectations."

Miss Claudia Harper slept well. Saturday she was up early, but got none of her chores done. Her mind was elsewhere; her mind was on Mr. Mark Ewing's tongue; his marvelous tongue.

If possible, from his point of view, the eating was even better.

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