Ms. Walker's Class Ch. 03

For those who have followed this series from the start, please enjoy this new chapter. New readers might want to catch up on the first two, and acquaint themselves with Miranda, Michael and the ever expanding cast of women who enjoy Michael's... well, if you've read the first two, you already know.

As always, all characters are over eighteen. Have fun.

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Michael's phone pinged, and he fished it out of his pocket. It was a new phone, with biometric security, and he pressed his thumb to the sensor, unlocking it. The screen lit up, indicating that he should check his schedule for changes.

Miranda had bought him the phone to celebrate their success, and also because she was slightly concerned that someone who shouldn't know about their 'business' might find out. After all, what they were doing, while completely consensual, was technically illegal.

Okay... Maybe not just 'technically'. Sure, he wasn't standing on street corners, but it was still illegal.

Michael flipped through the screens, scrolling to today's date. There it was, a four o'clock appointment where there had been none before.

"Natalya Semenyova. Sounds like a Bond villain," he grunted, eating ravenously, refuelling after a morning of fucking Esmi Martinez's pussy and ass. She was still the only one to risk him using his huge pecker on her ass, and she couldn't get enough, insisting on it every time they got together.

Natalya would be his second 'first-timer' of the day, as he was headed for the first rookie in a few minutes. Hiromi Takara had called last week, booking a spot on what Miranda had called 'United Nations Day", joining Hispanic Esmi and the sultry French Solange Savard. Now, Russian Natalya filled out the schedule. Michael could almost see Miranda giggling as she booked her.

He typed a text message to Miranda. What? No Swedish bikini models?

Seconds later, she replied. ; ) Sorry, not yet, but I'll keep my eyes open. Have fun.

***

Twenty minutes later, he parked in the driveway of a beautiful home. Very Japanese in style, with ponds and waterfalls, he was awestruck. He took the long, meandering pathway to the front door, where he wondered how to ring the doorbell, deciding to knock instead. He had no idea what to expect when the door opened.

Hiromi Takara stepped aside as she opened the door, bowing slightly. Michael returned it, self consciously, not knowing what to do otherwise. He took in her manner, very respectful and subdued, but she surprised him when she spoke.

"Hello... I assume you're Michael. Please come in," she said in a voice devoid of accent, but still somehow fitting for her stature.

She was... Tiny, like a doll. Maybe five feet tall on tiptoes, with shoulder length, raven-black hair and huge dark eyes, she smiled at him with ruby red, bee-stung lips. She was wearing a long, red silk robe, cinched snugly around her microscopic waist with a black sash and black trim. She was beautiful.

"Yes Ma'am. Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Takara," he answered, taking her offered hand, which was small, delicate, smooth and warm.

"Please, Michael... My husband passed away six years ago, and given what we are about to do, I think first names are appropriate. Call me Hiromi," she laughed, smiling again.

She took him on a quick tour, beginning with the kitchen. The house was like a museum, spotlessly clean, elegant and surprisingly inviting, with rich wood tones abounding.

"I would normally offer you some tea, but I don't think we need that much tradition, today. Something cool... a soft drink perhaps?" she offered. He thanked her, and watched her pour drinks for both of them.

"I'm sorry to hear about your husband," he said quietly, "were you married long?" He was fishing for information. She looked much younger than he'd expected.

"Twelve years. I was very young when we met, and he was much older than I. You were expecting an older woman?"

"Well, I suppose I may have been. I certainly wasn't expecting someone so young and beautiful," he complimented honestly.

"Neither was I!" she giggled. "So, I'm supposed to give you something to do, right?" She winked at him. Michael laughed.

Hiromi glided into the living room with him in her wake. She reached up on tiptoes, using the sides of her index fingers to lift the highest of the displayed katanas from its cradle. She turned to him, still with the sword resting on the sides of her hands, the traditional, non-threatening way to offer someone a deadly weapon. Michael took the sword, unsheathing it at her request.

He doubted Hiromi knew it, but he had a thing for samurai swords, marvelling at the workmanship.

"This is a remarkable piece," he whispered. "Very old, yes?" She smiled, nodding subtly. "Traditional tamahagane, beautiful hamon," he said, inspecting the blade closely. He could see the hundreds of layers that made up the folded steel. "Very beautiful. I should polish it before we put it back, to get my fingerprints off it."

Hiromi handed him the lightly oiled cloth, a slightly amazed look on her face.

"You're just full of surprises, Michael. I wouldn't have expected you to know so much about Japanese swords... and to anticipate your first 'job'. When you're done, put it back, and we'll find something else."

She led the way, stopping at a small, windowed niche in the hallway wall that held a beautiful bonsai tree, which she asked him to water for her, before leading on. She reached the end, and slid the shoji aside.

"You must be exhausted. I apologize for working you so hard," she said quietly, smiling wryly as she led him into the bedroom. She closed the 'door' behind them. "Sit please," she said, gesturing toward the large platform bed. She went across the room, opening the shoji on the outside wall, before coming back to sit beside him.

Michael was still blown away by the house.

"So, Hiromi, may I ask what your husband did before he passed away?"

"Oh sure... He was in organized crime... You've heard of the Yakuza?" she replied evenly.

Michael froze.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" she laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Flowers... he owned... I guess I do now... hundreds of greenhouses around the world, and supplied flowers, orchids... even bonsai, like the one in the hall." She giggled again. "You should have seen your face!"

"Whew!" he laughed, thumping his chest to get his heart going again. "You got me good, there!"

"Well, I couldn't have you treating me like a china doll. You're here for a reason, and I need you to relax and be you. Humour is a great icebreaker," she whispered, pushing him onto his back and rolling on top of him.

She weighed next to nothing, like a kitten on his chest. There was something he didn't expect, though. Asian women, in his extremely limited experience, usually were not very well endowed in the breast department, but as she laid on him, he could feel the presence of a firm chest on his.

Hiromi gazed down at him, and he pulled her closer, kissing her pillowy lips gently. She tasted wonderful, and kissed him back, parting her lips to admit his tongue. Several minutes of hot, moaning, passionate frenching ensued, during which his hands explored her firm, muscular little ass.

"Your bath is ready," she whispered, breaking away from his lips and sliding off the bed. When he stood, she started to help remove his clothes, at least the parts she could reach. He was nearly eighteen inches taller than she was, so she concentrated on his lower half. She paused for a second, before pulling his obscenely tented underwear down to see what she was in for.

"Michael!" she giggled, grasping his huge pole with both hands. She could have used about four more to hold it properly. "I think we're going to get along just fine, but I could probably use a little tongue action before you plant this thing in my little pussy!"

"I'd be delighted," he answered, smiling at the thought of sampling her little honeypot.

"First, your bath," she laughed, leading him out onto the patio, where a deep, wooden barrel tub awaited him.

Hiromi helped him into the warm water, directing him to sit on the submerged seat. Once he was in, she knelt on the step, and lathered a cloth, reaching around his body to wash him.

It felt wonderful, and he began to wonder if he could somehow convince Miranda to do this for him.

All too soon, she was helping him out of the tub, patting him dry, and leading him back into the bedroom. He sat on the bed, and she quickly sat on his lap, pressing her lips to his again. She was a fabulous kisser, and Michael immediately put her on his repeat list.

"I can't wait any longer. Please take me Michael," she whispered, sitting up on his lap. She untied the sash on her robe, which was doubled around her narrow waist, karate style. He watched intently as she draped the silky garment off her shoulders, teasing him by concealing her chest. Finally, she smiled, and shrugged it off.

Michael licked his lips as her breasts were revealed. Because she was so small, her breasts looked even bigger in relation to her chest, making her look quite busty, despite weighing maybe ninety pounds. Tiny nipples, pointy and erect, punctuated the smooth skin of her globes.

Hiromi rolled off him, placing her robe neatly over a bedside chair, and showing him the entirety of her nude body, which was breathtaking. When she turned back to him, he saw the little patch of black hair that resided just above what appeared to be a very pouty pussy.

She crawled up onto the bed, and rolled on her back, spreading her legs wide. He didn't need to be asked, moving over between her thighs, eager to taste her.

Oh my god! he thought, she may have the most erotic pussy I've ever seen!

Like the orchids her greenhouses produced, her vagina pouted open wide, with thick, engorged lips, nearly purple in colour, and easily well over an inch long. Her clit was bright pink, about the size of a large pearl, and straining out of its hood. If she tasted as good as she smelled, he might just spend the day camped right here, gorging himself on her intimate folds.

She gasped when he touched the tip of his tongue to her moist cleft, and moaned when he wriggled it in, parting her puffy lips to sample the delicious nectar she was secreting. A few long licks from her tight little asshole, up to her clit, opened the gooey petals of her flower wide, revealing the juicy pink interior. Hiromi had plenty to say, most of it seemingly out of character for her previous, proper behaviour.

"Michael, your tongue feels wonderful! That's it... eat my cunt! Fuck my pussy with your talented tongue!"

Directives soon gave way to animal sounds of sexual desire and gratification, Hiromi's tiny body twisting and squirming atop the bed. Michael had a firm grip on her hips and ass, holding her in place, with his tongue buried deep inside her hot opening. He licked her with wild abandon, sucking her thick lips into his mouth, and flicking her clit with his tongue. She was oozing delicious juices already, but he hadn't seen anything yet.

"Uhn! Fakku ā! Sore wa soreda... Watashi no on'na o taberu! Watashi wa kamingu yo! Waaaaahn!" she screamed, arching her back and nearly, but not quite, wrenching out of his grasp. He didn't speak Japanese, but he didn't need to. Her pussy was translating quite nicely, and sweetly, gushing juices into his mouth as she came hard. Her porcelain smooth skin flushed pink, and she gasped for air, her orgasm breaking like a tsunami of pleasure over her.

Michael rested, his chin on her mound, waiting for her to recover. It took a minute or so, but she peeked over her tits at him, smiling back.

"That was incredible! Thank you, Michael!" she gasped, cupping her breasts and tugging her nipples unconsciously. "I'm about as ready as I'll ever be, so... gimme that dick. Fuck me!"

Michael was a little hesitant. Thanks to his relationship with Miranda, his ever concise science teacher, he now knew that the massive chunk of meat that resided between his legs, nearly eleven inches long and as thick as a soda can at the base, had a volume of over 850 cc's, bigger that a lot of motorcycle engines. He didn't see how it could possibly fit inside Hiromi's pretty, petite pussy.

She saw his concern, but wasn't about to go without. She sat up, wrapped her small hand around his shaft, and tugged him closer.

"Please Michael... I'll stop you if it's too much, but I think you'll be surprised. Please fuck me."

She was so cute, begging for it like this, and he wascurious, so he relented, moving between her legs, and rubbing his cock... Oops, almost got so wrapped up in her body, he forgot to wrap it up. It only took a few seconds for him to return wearing his condom, and pick up where he left off.

The head slipped in easily, but he watched her for signs of discomfort. Pressing further, he would pull back, using a 'one inch back, two inches in' approach, and Hiromi, while obviously feeling the extreme size of his intruding cock, showed no signs of asking him to stop. Passing the three quarter mark, she was snorting and puffing, but wanted more.

"Come on, baby, fuck me! It feels so good! My little pussy wants all of it!"

He started to give it to her, as requested, but held back a little, fucking her deep but not going all out. He pussy gripped him quite snugly, but not as tight as some did, so he thought she could take more. Within a few stokes, he was amazed to be balls deep inside her astoundingly elastic cunt, pounding her delicate frame full bore. He was perched up on his arms though. The difference in their height would have had her eating shoulder if he laid flat, and it didn't seem right to put his full weight on her either.

And, of course... he also wanted to watch her breasts dance, which they were doing a lot of right now as her fucked her hard. She was grunting and moaning, a rhythmic 'yuhn huhn' in time with his slamming thrusts. The bed groaned under his assault, and flesh slapping together brought a crimson blush to her ass.

He felt her body tense under him, and her fingers dug grooves into his forearms. Her eyes, wild with lust and desire, bored holes into his, and she screamed.

"Yaaaaaaaahhhnnnn! YESSSSS! FUCK, YES! DON'T STOP! DON'T STOP! I'M CUMMMMMMMING! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNNN!"

For such a little thing, she was surprisingly strong, and she came with a violence he didn't expect. Her hot little pussy tried to strangle his cock to death as she writhed under him, but she gradually wound down, panting from the exertion of her orgasm.

"Let me... on top... please... baby," she breathed, regaining her senses slightly. "I want... to make you... cum!"

Michael smiled and kissed her as she pulled herself up to his chest, lifting her body off the bed under him. He rolled over, bringing his clinging partner with him, and she got her legs under her, squatting on his pole rather than kneeling. He knew he was in for something special. Miranda did this occasionally, and while Hiromi was no where near as well blessed on her chest, she was still sporting a jiggly pair of D's that would be enticingly mobile like this.

She started to bounce, skewering herself deeply. She braced herself using one hand until she settled in to her rhythm and found her balance, then moved both hands up, elbows high, tangling her fingers in her dark hair. As expected, Michael's eyes were drawn to her quivering tits with inevitable certainty, holding his lust filled gaze while she rode his hard flesh toward an equally inevitable orgasm. He reached up and pawed at her resilient boobs, tweaking her excitedly pointed nipples.

Hiromi squealed, throwing her head back and howling to the skies as another climax hit her. She pressed down, grinding her abused pussy and over-stimulated clitoris against him, pushing herself over the top. Her orgasm proved too much for her balance, and she tumbled backwards, twitching in bliss.

Michael was close, so he ripped the condom off and stood over Hiromi's exhausted, sweaty body, jerking madly. She smiled and turned her face up, offering a target as she leaned on one arm.

"Cum on me, Michael! Let me feel that hot juice all over my face!"

He had already cum once today, deep inside Esmi's ass. The thought of spraying on Hiromi's pretty face was more than he could resist. He stroked his length a final few times, and unleashed a deluge of thick, gooey spunk onto her peaceful countenance. She opened wide, capturing a few globs of his semen and swallowing greedily. Finally spent, he rubbed the oozing head of his cock over her sperm-soaked lips. She sucked him in, moaning with wanton lust, and scooping his discharge into her mouth with her fingers.

After they rested in each other's arms for about twenty minutes, Hiromi saw Michael to the front door. He picked her up, holding her tight little ass in both hands, while she kissed him tenderly.

"I'll be on the phone in a minute, making an appointment for next week, Michael. Thank you so much for today... It was wonderful." He put her down gently, and she reached into her robe pocket, pressing a wad of bills into his hand. "Until next week."

Sitting in the car, Michael counted out $300. He texted Miranda, letting her know that Hiromi would be calling, and that he was going to eat closer to Natalya's house, so he wouldn't be late.

***

An hour later, he parked two blocks away from the Semenyova house, as directed, and walked the rest of the way, ringing the side door bell. As with Hiromi, he had no idea what to expect.

The door opened, and Michael gasped. Before him may have been the most strikingly beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Mikhail?" the tall redhead asked, examining him quickly with her icy blue eyes.

"Yes," Michael replied. Well, she is Russian. "And you would be Natalya?"

"Da! Please, come in!" she said, smiling. She closed the door behind him, and led into the house, walking a few steps ahead.

Michael's eyes caressed her tall, lithe body. She was nearly six feet tall, and dressed in what he assumed was workout gear, thin black spandex that hugged her delicious curves like a second skin. She had a fantastic ass, long, strong legs, and a tight, narrow waist.

"Vould you like somezhing to drrink?" she asked, pausing in front of him, letting him see more of her. Flaming red hair hung in soft curls just past her shoulders, framing her delicate features, high cheekbones, and full, soft lips. He couldn't put a number to her age, as her skin was so perfectly smooth. Her neck, long, elegant and almost swan-like, flowed down into her lean, muscular shoulders. She was quite thin, but in an athletic and aesthetically pleasing way. Her breasts looked large on her chest, contrasting with the taughtness of the rest of her torso.

"Yes, please," he answered pulling his eyes back up to her breathtaking face.

When she returned with a glass of water for him, he was looking over the shelves of awards and memorabilia in the living room. Ballet. That explained the exercise wear, and the tight body.

"I vas in Moscow ballet forr tventy yearrs. Now, I teach dancing. My husband vorks vitz Goverrnment. I hope is not prroblem zhat I am married?" she smiled.

"Only if he walks in on us, Natalya!" he laughed, watching her eyes sparkle as she joined him. She suddenly got serious, taking the glass from his hand, placing it on the table, and stepping closer.

"Zhat vill not be prroblem," she purred, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him softly. She moaned, kissing him again, more passionately. "He is avay, on business trrip. You visit frriend of mine zhis morrning. Esmi says you have verry big cock, and fuck herr in ze ass, too, so I call you."