Ms. Walker's Class Ch. 06

I had always intended to continue this story, but, well, you know how it is. I got a little sidetracked, and it took a few loyal readers to remind me that Michael, Miranda, Ashley, Sophia, Solange, Charisse, Jenelle and Hiromi, had more to tell.

A few of their suggestions form parts of this one. Thanks for the input, and please don't be shy in the future.

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The new 'rent-a-husband' arrangement between the freshly married Michael and his small group of remaining clients was working out better than expected.

All Michael's ladies were happy, having much more time with him each week, so that more jobs besides merely sex were getting accomplished. That was actually easier on Michael physically than the previous situation.

Everyone had completed their testing weeks ago, so he now rode every woman bareback, and they all seemed to love getting their pussies full of his warm cum.

Polyamory with his harem of mature lovers was heavenly. If variety was the spice of life, he certainly had that covered. Japanese, French, Italian... Negro, Asian, Caucasian... Blonde, brunette, and redhead...tall and robust, to petite and delicate. The one constant among them was their breasts, with Hiromi's D-cups ranging up to Sophia's massive J's.

Even though he was enjoying himself greatly, if his wife hadn't suggested this, he wouldn't have been worried. He would have been more than happy to spend his life with Miranda exclusively. She was more than enough for him.

From her perspective, Miranda had suggested this arrangement in an effort to satisfy her young man's natural urge to roam. He was, after all, only twenty years old, and she knew exactly when his sexual history started, because she was there at the time. Still, over the last year or so, he had experienced a decade of sexual activity. Now, she was concerned with cutting him off too quickly, hence the short list of remaining women.

Conventional it was not, but she could live with it.

The side benefit had been that she now had a few extra friends, whose company she was enjoying as well, and she found she actually liked the idea of her hubby with these ladies. It excited her.

***

It was Thursday...

Michael laid beside Charisse, catching his breath. She was doing the same, but also licking her fingers, as she dipped them occasionally into the gooey slit between her legs. His thick load was slowly oozing out of her.

Over thirty years his senior, she had as much energy in bed as her daughter, who was only five years older than him. Sometimes, he had a hard time remembering her age, but then again, it's just a number, isn't it?

Jenelle wasn't present today, so it had been just the two of them all day long. He had arrived in the morning for a wake up canoodle. A late breakfast followed, then a little yard work, before Michael accompanied her for some shopping.

Not normally his favourite part of his duties, he sat while she tried on several dresses, offering his opinion when asked.

"You know," she smiled, "I'm doing this for you. You're the only man in my life, and the only one I want to be with. I want to look good, so you don't feel like you've got an old lady on your arm."

He had heard similar things from all his ladies. It seems that they all felt that way. He liked being 'enough' for them.

Charisse had made it worth his while to indulge her at the dress shop, as their next stop was a lingerie shop. Now this, he could get into.

Each changing room had a curtained area, with a small alcove outside, and a seat, presumably so husbands could sit while wives tried on their new unmentionables, and show them in relative privacy.

Michael took his seat. Charisse had taken a small selection of bras and panties inside, and was giving him a show of the various ensembles. Periodically, the curtain would open, and there she was, clad only in the briefest of undergarments, her delicious body on display for his eyes. Black, red, pink, white and several other colours that he lost track of, the one constant was silky, lacey and revealing.

There had to be some deeply psychological reason why men found sexy lingerie interesting, even on women they had seen naked. That certainly applied in Michael's case, as Charisse had a habit of walking around the house nude on a regular basis. She was very proud of her incredible physical condition, surgically attained or not.

That surgically enhanced perfection did limit her selection of garments, though. Lingerie manufacturers seemed to want those women who were less endowed to look better, which is fine, but what about those who didn't need the illusion? Charisse and her double D's for example. Fortunately, it appeared that they had finally realized their mistake, and now were making garments for more voluptuous figures.

Michael wandered the store, at Charisse's request, browsing the racks of underwear and lingerie, looking for something that caught his eye, but had somehow escaped hers. His fingers tested the slippery, silky texture of the fabrics, something he would have felt self conscious about not long ago.

Then, as a high school senior, he would never have come into a store like this, no matter how much he wanted to. He had no reason to, and his confidence with women was shaky at best.

Now, he was married, and supremely comfortable with the fairer sex. He had removed more lingerie from sexy, mature women than most of his friends had viewed in catalogues. Those women had educated him on the subject of bras, panties and the like, so when the sales girl approached to help him, he didn't shy away.

"Can I help you find something?" the petite brunette asked, eyeing him with her doe like, brown orbs.

"Sure," Michael smiled. "I don't mind browsing, but a little help is always welcome, even with a fun task." He was flirting, something she must have been quite familiar with given her job, but she tittered back. "My girlfriend is trying on a few things, and she asked me to get a few others to try as well."

He still felt a little strange using that term...'girlfriend'...given his status as a married man, and being younger than all of them, but it was the best description he could think of. He let his eyes wander across the brunette's body, finding a name tag on the emerald green sweater that clung so attractively to her perky chest.

"Certainly. Do you know her size?"

"Yes April," he replied, making eye contact, "She's a 36DD up top, and a medium down below. She likes thongs, and brazilian cut panties. I think she looks great in a demi cup, or a plunge bra. She doesn't really need the extra help of a push up, but a balconette might be nice."

"I'm impressed," April smiled. "Most guys just stare and say 'she's bigger than you'! Okay. Well, we can eliminate this area then," she gestured. "These are for girls that need the help, and she obviously doesn't."

April led over to a display on the side of the store that held the larger cup sizes. She was helping Michael pick out a few selections when Charisse walked up to them, wearing a satin robe that reached her knees.

"Hi honey," she smiled, pecking him on the lips. "Find anything you like?"

"Still looking," Michael laughed. "What's under this?" he grinned, peeking down the front of the robe. Charisse didn't even hesitate, turning her back to the front of the store, and untying the sash. She held it open for his approval, giving April a view as well.

"I like this one," Charisse said, proudly thrusting her ample chest out. "What do you think?" The bra that she was wearing was black, with medium coverage cups, and a plunging centreline. Lace trim adorned the edges of the cups, allowing a hint of her darker areolas to peek out through the filigree. "It opens in front, so of you're in a hurry to get at me..." she finished, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Very nice," April smiled, reaching in to adjust one of the straps. She was immediately struck by several thoughts and questions. He said 'girlfriend', so she hadn't been expecting someone as mature as the woman now proudly displaying her body for them. That body was a sculptural masterpiece, very lean and hard, with breasts that almost made her mouth water...and she was straight! Finally, there was the question of why these two were together. Older woman...much younger man...there had to be a reason, most likely a physical one. Was he as impressive in the sack as it appeared? April's ruminations were interrupted by Michael's voice.

"Wow!" he smiled. "Maybe we'd better go back to the change room, just in case I can't control myself!" he laughed, catching April's smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Down boy," Charisse giggled. "Save it for when we get home."

'When they got home' was soon after...and the new lingerie didn't stay on long.

***

"Honey, I'm home," Michael sang, as he walked in the door. There was a delicious scent in the air, leading him to believe that he could find Miranda in the kitchen. He peeked in, then snuck in behind her. He was just about to grab her when...

"You know, if you're trying to surprise someone, you shouldn't announce your presence before hand," she giggled, turning to face him. "How was work? Charisse and Janelle wear you out?"

Michael completed his sneak attack, undeterred by her knowledge of his intent. He palmed her left breast, finding nothing but delectable flesh under her tight t-shirt. He fondled her softly, then withdrew his hand, leaving a stiff nipple tenting the thin fabric. She sighed, and kissed him, probing his mouth with her tongue. It took a couple of minutes for them to separate.

"Whoa, that's some 'welcome home'," Michael breathed, rubbing her back. "I think you asked me a question?"

"Mmmmm hmmm," she smiled, and recapped the query.

"Ah, yes, well...no Janelle today. Apparently, she's out of town, so it was just me and her Mother. We spent some time at home, then she took me shopping," Michael answered. He grinned at her, knowing what she really wanted to know. "Three times," he added, holding up three fingers. "Twice in the morning, and once this afternoon."

"Ooooo, so you've got some left for me!" she gasped, pressing her big, round boobs into his chest. "Why don't you go have a shower, while I finish cooking dinner, then after we eat we can go to bed early, and you can show me what you did with Charisse."

"Deal," he replied, and gave her a parting kiss...fondle...grope.

He spent several minutes in the shower, relaxing under the warm spray, and getting clean for his wife. He was still busy with the soap when she walked in on him.

"Five minutes," she smiled, peeking in at him. "Either finish that thing fast, or save it for me."

"I'm cleaning it," he laughed, continuing to run his soapy fist along his stiff cock. "This is the most efficient way. Honest."

"Uh huh. Of course it is," she giggled back. "Just prime the pump, honey. Don't spill it. I want some."

"I'll be out in a sec," he said, turning into the spray to rinse off.

Miranda watched his huge member hang, soap and water streaming off the end. It was hers. Yes, she shared that monstrous dick with a select few other women, but they only had access once a week. She owned it. It came home to her bed every night, and her pussy had the tingles to prove it. Soft, he was bigger than the average guy was hard. She was very lucky. Even luckier that the remarkable instrument of pleasure was attached to a loving, gentle, devoted man whom she loved.

Dinner was lovely. In addition to being a beautiful black woman of amazonian proportions, Miranda was a very good cook. She kept Michael well fuelled for his daily workload...three to four times a day, was normal for him now, down from the six or more of his busiest times. He still occasionally used pharmaceutical assistance when needed, but it was no longer the norm.

Michael helped her with the dishes. Often, 'washing the dishes' was only part of what went on in the kitchen, and that was the case tonight. Both of them took every opportunity to rub up against the other with purpose. Miranda brushed her huge boobs across his back, while reaching around him for a pot. Michael did the same, dragging his burgeoning bulge over her firm ass. He reached past her, into the sink, and splashed soap suds across her chest. The bubbles clung to the round curves, soaking the thin cotton a darker grey than the surrounding area.

Standing behind her, he kissed and bit the side of her neck, causing a contented sigh. She pulled his wet hands up, to cup both her breasts, lolling her head back against his shoulder. She ground her butt back into him.

The rest of the dishes could wait.

Miranda turned in Michael's arms. He looked down, smiling at the wet, hand shaped prints that decorated her breasts. Crossing her arms, she grasped the bottom edge of her snug shirt, and peeled it up over her head, freeing her large breasts for his eyes. She kissed him hard.

"Take me to bed," she whispered. "Take me to bed, and fuck me. I'm yours, now and forever. I love you, Michael."

"I love you too, honey," he breathed, and scooped her up, manoeuvring out the door, through the house, and into the bedroom. He placed her gently on their bed, like a fragile treasure, and slid down into place beside her.

Michael reached across her body with one hand, resting his fingers gently on her flat, firm stomach. Miranda's smooth, dark mocha skin, contrasted starkly with his own, tanned, but much paler. He looked into her big brown eyes, while his hand slid upwards to cup the full volume of her right breast. Her long lashes fluttered, registering the pleasure she felt at his touch, and she rolled slowly toward him, pressing her lips softly against his.

It was early. Miranda didn't need to be at school until 8:30 in the morning, and Michael wasn't due at Hiromi's until 9. They had all the time in the world to please each other. Passionate hands removed clothing piece by piece, until the two lovers were totally bare, and wrapped in each other's ardent embrace. Legs intertwined, and fingers caressed, stoking the fires of desire that kept them warm.

Michael kissed his wife gently, still cupping her breast in his hand. He knew that her incredible rack wasn't all natural; she had never denied having them augmented, and had invited him to inspect the small, faded scars hidden in the crease under each globe. It didn't matter to him one bit that part of her was plastic.

Some men have a problem with it though. He suspected that the number who complained about women with 'fake' tits feeling different was far higher than the number who had actual basis for comparison. Just another way to put others down, for something they didn't understand.

He, on the other hand, had ample data at his disposal. Besides his wife, Charisse had been under the knife, and her breasts still felt wonderful when they filled his hands. Natalya, though no longer in his life, had been similarly enhanced. While he wouldn't go so far as to say he couldn't tell the difference... his experience had made him something of connoisseur of boobs... he didn't find it a negative. Firm and round was never a bad thing, in his opinion.

Miranda's eyes were closed, accepting his kisses and caresses quietly. She was twirling her fingers in Michael's hair, with her long leg hooked over his hip, holding him in place. Her pussy was drooling against the length of his shaft as it pressed across her lips, eager to feel it fill her again. She arched her back, and tilted her hips, hoping to capture the head of his pole between her thick lips. It took some doing, but she was successful.

"Ooooo! Aren't you sneaky!" Michael hissed, kissing her neck softly.

"Mmmmm, yes," she giggled, wiggling her hips to ease it further into herself. She pulled with her leg, trying to urge him deeper, and he complied, pushing his hips forward until nearly half of his shaft had slid home. "Oh, I'll never get tired of that big thing stretching me open," she breathed.

Michael rolled her back, gently, and drove the rest of his tool in. Miranda's legs wrapped around his hips, and she grunted in satisfaction. He began a very slow, gentle rhythm of long, deep strokes into his wife's pussy, while hey exchanged kisses and caresses.

This was living proof that Michael may be young, with a young man's stamina and libido, but he was a very mature lover. His stable of MILFs had taught him very well how to please a woman; that there was a time for furious fucking, and a time for more leisurely enjoyment of a woman's body. He had learned those lessons well, and for that, Miranda would be eternally grateful.

She loved the feelings his cock gave her. 'Full' is simply an inadequate description, as it touched her everywhere at once, rubbing all the good spots. She especially liked it when he would grind against her clit at the end of each stroke. That brought her to the plateau, just short of her peak, very quickly.

Michael had also learned how to make Miranda, specifically, lose her mind with pleasure. He read her body signals so well now, that her little shudders, gasps, and moans spoke volumes to him. He knew she was close, and now faced a choice; make her cum often, or reduce the number, but jack up the intensity.

He chose the latter, partly because he was still recovering from the workout Charisse had given him this afternoon and partly due to still digesting dinner, but mostly because he liked to watch her have really big orgasms. It was quite a show.

He slowed down to a crawl, occasionally pausing for several seconds at a time, at various points in his stroke. Miranda moaned softly, chastising him for teasing her, but knowing it would be worth it.

Michael took his time, varied his pace often, and kept bringing her to the precipice, only to repeatedly pull her back. He hoped it was working on her, because it was sure doing it for him.

Miranda could feel it cumming. He was taking her closer to the point of no return each time, before easing her back. She was shaking, and panting for air, awaiting that next little nudge that would trigger her inevitable orgasm. His chest was pressed firmly against her breasts, squashing them flat. He stepped on the gas once more.

The pleasure hit her like a wave in the ocean, lifting her gently with its power. She arched her back, and screamed, wrapping her limbs tighter around his body. Amid the surges of her own bliss, she heard his grunts, and felt his massive tool flex as it spewed his semen inside her vagina. The warmth spread inside her, mixing with the flames of her own climax.

"I love you, Michael," she breathed.

He kissed her by way of response, and lay panting atop her.

If only the classmates who tormented him in high school could see him now.

***

Friday morning, Michael parked in Hiromi's driveway. The door opened before he even touched the knob. Apparently, Hiromi was watching for him, and welcomed him inside quickly.

As always, she gave him a respectful bow, then a kiss that threatened to suck the fillings out of his teeth. There was no doubt about what she wanted, and when she wanted it. He picked up the petite Japanese woman, and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. With any of his other ladies, this would have been the end of the journey, but Hiromi had one more tradition to honour ; his bath.

From their first time together, she had always given him a bath before sex. Initially, she had bathed him from behind, and outside the large wooden tub that steamed in the backyard. More recently, she had joined him in the water, but the purpose remained the same. They never had sex in the tub.

That shouldn't be read as never being sexual, however. Hiromi would soap herself up... quite the sight against the natural green backdrop of her yard... and use her body to apply the suds to his body. He loved it, feeling her soft, curvy body rubbing across his. It gave him a new appreciation for cleanliness, and always made him hard as a rock.