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“You didn’t!” Wendy gasped when Lynn told her about the encounter with Ken, how she had finally cheated on her husband with another guy. It was really outrageous. She, a wealthy suburban wife, meeting a surfer on the beach and then actually doing it with him in the back of his van!

“I did,” Lynn said with the satisfied smile of a cat who’s just consumed a big bowl of cream

She went into all the details, describing Ken’s cock to Wendy, who, of course, drooled hearing Lynn’s description. Lynn told her about everything they did in the back of his van. Wendy got so excited listening to all the scorching details that afterwards the two wives just had to pull down their jeans and panties and have a go at it themselves. 

Lynn saw Ken the surfer again, this time at his surprisingly swank beachside Santa Monica apartment. He was only twenty, but it turned out he was a championship surfer and made quite a bit of money from competitions and his endorsements. Upstairs, she found that he did indeed have a nice, big bed for her, not just the back of a surfer’s van. And boy did the two of them ever have fun on that bed that time, and several more times! Naturally Wendy heard all about these encounters as well

“Maybe you can join the two of us. You know, I’ve told him all about you, and about us, how you’re married too, how the two of us like to fool around. You know guys. He just loved hearing about that, about a couple of wives having sex with each other, cheating on their husbands that way,”” Lynn said to Wendy one day after she described her latest encounter with Ken, a description which again provoked some serious cunnilingus on the part of the two wives, as well as extensive play with Wendy’s vibrating dildo. 

“Join you two?” Wendy said, a little stunned. Wendy had yet to cheat on her husband, Lynn knew, apart from her liaisons with Lynn. But the more Lynn told Wendy about her own transgressions, the more tempted Wendy became, Lynn could clearly see. 

“Yeah, I even asked Ken what he’d think if I brought you over with me some day,” Lynn said. “You can imagine his answer.”

It was boring…damn it was boring. I’d been a college professor, for God’s sake. A Ph-fucking-D in American Literature & Writing. So what the hell was I doing teaching at Our Lady Of Mercy high school? Well, to make a long story short, it was money. Universities don’t pay assistant professors worth a damn and OLM (Old Laid Maids, to the cognoscenti), a conservative, full-student-uniform, old line Catholic private academy, had offered me a cool $10,000 more than Eastman City University to teach their “girls” about The Scarlet Letter and other tripe, oh excuse me, classics. So, I was bored.

Most of these girls were nice enough, maybe too nice, and not overly bright. 

They were at OLM because Mom & Dad wanted to keep them safe from boys. Naturally, while their parents paid a hefty tuition to get their girls ready for college and keep their virginities intact, the girls took every opportunity to mess around, both with boys and – oh shock, oh horror – each other. The rumor mill was constantly grinding out new salacious stories. Kirsten G had balled the football star from Cardinal O’Malley High School (better known as “Carnal & Manly”); Alicia S was in a lesbian tryst with her boyfriend’s older sister, and so on. It was enough to make you laugh out loud.

And the faculty — mostly older men, over 50 and married, or nuns & priests. There were only four of us who were under 50 and secular — myself, Sarah Jenkins (biology), Alex Fernandez (Spanish & French), and Molly Poulan (American History). Naturally, rumors had us all linked in a variety of wild sexual relationships. Naturally, they were all, all wrong. Molly was engaged, Alex gay, and Sarah only vaguely interested. We had gone out a few times, even slept together once, but nothing came of it. Me, Dr. Fisher, I was single and lonely and horny and bored.

Until (oh you KNEW there was an “until” didn’t you?) Megan Renzo walked into my English 12 class. She was a transfer from the public schools and acted like she didn’t fit in. The rumor mill had it that she had been “involved” with her music teacher and that the scandal got him fired and her packed off to OLM. Her Daddy was a lawyer and filthy rich, so Megan got in without passing an entrance examination and with the understanding that she would sail through OLM and get shipped off to a nice catholic girls college where she would stay to earn her Mrs.-degree. She had every likelihood to be trouble for us, and she knew it.