The Morning After

"No doubt," she shrugged, slurping down another shot. "But that's what I'm saying. I'm not naked on TV, and I don't plan to be. The kind of people who don't mind being naked on TV... well, they probably act the same as they do normally." She poured more, then fixed me with a curious stare. "I'll bet you'd go on TV naked."

I matched her shot, my teeth starting to go numb. Always a bad sign; I needed to slow down. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet. "Where did that come from?"

She shrugged, the motion jostling me; our hips were touching by then. "I dunno. You just seem like the kind of guy who'd be comfortable with millions of people seeing you in the buff."

Another extraordinary statement from what I was quickly deciding was an extraordinary girl. I was starting to regret she was still in high school. I shrank back, burrowing into the side cushion, shifting sideways slightly, and stared at her. Alicia was already moving to accommodate me, seemingly quite experienced at the art of sitting on couches with guys, her lithe body twisting neatly around to slide into the angle my body had made with the back of the couch. It felt so natural when her ass slotted back toward me, the broad tanned gap between sweatpants and shirt now showing half her ass. If she realized it, she didn't care.

"I'd be very uncomfortable being naked around strangers," I mused, and again it seemed totally normal when I moved my hand from the back of the couch to the back of the girl, her flesh hot and firm beneath my fingers. With a sigh, Alicia leaned immediately back, nestling into me, my hand skating helplessly along her left ribcage to rest on her belly. Again, natural; I was toying with her navel piercing before I even realized it.

Had I been paying attention, I think I'd have noticed around then that my dick was getting dangerously hard. "You don't give that impression, Mr D," Alicia said, still sounding normal even as she rested that glorious body all along mine. Her casual left hand rested on my right thigh now, and I had no idea when that had happened. "You give the impression of a confident and exciting person."

"So do you," I pointed out evenly, and even without the tequila I'd have thought that. Probably not said it, though, but we were very near the point of no return already. Her belly rose and fell smoothly beneath my fingers. "You did last year, too."

"Last year," she said quietly. "Last year I was seventeen, and in your class. Last year," she pointed out, now shifting to look into my face, "it would have been very, very, very unethical for you to be sitting like this. With me." She was sideways now, her left shoulder wedged firmly into my right armpit as she tilted her head to watch me, her ear welded to my collarbone. I couldn't look at her without looking straight down that impossibly tight shirt, seeing the valley of her cleavage and the firm skin that topped her breasts, now pressed firmly against my side as her leg moved quite casually across the tops of my thighs. Her right nipple was trying to burst through the shirt.

Her hair was everywhere, the scent of roses strong in my nose. She sent her right hand wandering across my chest, reaching for one of the glasses. "Last year," she went on, her voice now lower, huskier, "you wouldn't have wanted to drink with me." She tossed the shot back, sideways without spilling a drop, an impressive feat.

"I still don't want to drink with you," I smiled, firmly into the spirit of this now; my dick was raging in my boxer briefs, and I couldn't have cared less if she knew it. That's what tequila did to me. "I'm just waiting for my pants to dry, remember?"

"Sure," she chuckled, putting the glass back down. "I understand. You're just humoring me. Being sociable." When her hand came back this time, it rested on my left side, just where my waistband was, her wrist dangerously close to my surging cock. She searched my eyes, devious, seeming totally unimpaired. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Of course." My hand was, completely without embarrassment, stroking the side of her ass. God, but she was firm! "Now's your chance; I've got nothing better to do here but kill time answering your questions, Miss Romano."

"Well," she said, her grin toothy, "it's just that you've been to college, and my friends were talking about something the other day, and I figure you'll know: what's a body shot?"

* * *

I sighed now, the bubbles in the bathtub pummeling me on the top setting, and in due course the inevitable happened: the shower shut off. Kaylen's singsong voice came booming from the shower, echoing with the weird bathroom acoustics. "I'm coming out now, Mr Davis!" she sang, sounding wicked and jubilant and mischievous and sexy. "Avert your gaze, please!"

She wasn't serious, though, for she came blasting out of the shower in a cloud of steam, posed, and then pranced dripping across the entire bathroom toward the towel rack. She seemed completely and totally unconcerned about her casual nudity, and in fairness she had nothing at all to be ashamed of: Kaylen Rapp was an objectively gorgeous woman. Not girl, mind you: woman.

It started with her attitude, a rapid-fire, take-no-prisoners way of dealing with people, and everything that came with it: constant smirking, a perpetually arched back, and a strut that would look perfect on a Milan catwalk. She was using all of that now, glancing coolly down at where I lounged among the bubbles, striding past as if I was some homeless guy begging for change from a businesswoman.

The attitude, though, was supplemented by an absolute killer of a female form, the kind that would have looked just about right in an Olympic event or a centerfold; either way. In Kaylen's case, that body usually showed itself in the short, flippy skirt of a field hockey fullback, but of course now I was seeing it a bit differently. And it robbed me of my breath.

She was about Alicia's height, but where Alicia's body was all smooth, sleek, streamlined fluidity, the perfection of a great athlete, Kaylen's had a bludgeoning sexuality about it. Her breasts swung proud and tight, jiggling sensually as she walked past my tub, the nipples large and dark. Below were flanks and a belly that curved inward with that ideal hourglass shape, sweeping past her narrow waist and flaring out to a pair of hips fully developed and perfect in their curves. The powerful muscles of her belly, running now with droplets of water, swept down to a mons as smooth and hairless as a plucked chicken, the reddened lips of her pussy surging beneath. Her butt, as she walked past, was perfect: peach-shaped and firm, the muscles rippling as she strutted on legs shaped like as if by a Renaissance sculptor.

She was the sexiest female I'd ever seen, clothed or naked, and she knew it well. She even stopped for me, posing as she had when she'd entered the guest bedroom, her mind always thinking of that invisible camera pointed at her. She twisted her mouth at me. "You like, Mr Davis?" No, nothing at all to be ashamed of, and the roaring in my ears was only partly from the tub jets. She simpered at me, not even bothering to search through the water to see whether I was hard; she knew already. "More later," she winked, reaching a languid arm to snap a towel from the rack before, still dripping, she turned that glorious ass to me and left the room.

Before I knew it I was jacking myself under the water, my dick as hard as I was beginning to remember it last night; I felt my eyes roll back in my head, the water and aspirin doing its work as the water eased away my hangover and my hand massaged my balls.

It was undoubtedly obvious what I was doing, then, as my third female of the morning came in on me. "What the fuck," came a harsh, croaking mutter from the door, and then Chloe Bishop was weaving toward me, squinting through dry contacts, trying to figure out who the strange man in her bathtub might be. Her hair was messy on top of her head; she carried with her the faint whiff of vomit as she staggered in, clad in the sensible tanktop and boy shorts Alicia had found for her last night. "Jesus," she said at last, coming close enough to see me masturbating in her bath. "Mr Davis? What the fuck are you doing in my tub?"

There was nothing but disgust in her eyes, and I couldn't blame her a bit. "Uh, good morning, Chloe." It was the lamest possible response, totally inadequate, but then she'd always intimidated me. She was a cynical, bitter force in my period three American Lit class, a fireball with an air of weariness, as if she'd seen it all and rejected it all. I wasn't sure what to do with the hands on my cock, so I just left them there. "Sorry. I think... Alicia can explain..."

"You know what?" She straightened and shook her head. "I don't care. I'm going to go pee, and then I'm going to find some breakfast. You just keep doing... whatever it is you're doing." Her eyes flashed contemptuously; she knew exactly what I was doing, and it repelled her, but she stumped over toward the toilet with that slight limp I'd seen in her before. I stared fixedly away, my face red as I heard the merry tinkle of her urine from behind me, and I didn't look as I heard her escape the bathroom with a harsh, hacking cough.

My God. I had to get out of here. Before things got worse than they were, worse than they had last night. And they'd gotten plenty bad; I knew that, even though my memory had a lot of trouble filling the next set of holes.

* * *

Flash images, only half-recalled, of the evening's next phase. I'd taught Alicia about body shots, apparently, for I had the distinct memory of the taste of the skin behind her collarbone as I'd licked the tequila, the straining neckline on that shirt of Mrs Bishop's stretching way past the point of common sense, her throaty laugh right next to my ear as her arms went around me. She'd done her part too, pulling up my shirt; I remembered her splashing some of the brown liquid into my belly button, the lime clasped between my teeth as her wild hazel eyes went wide, her face growing bigger and even more beautiful as she descended to suck. She'd grunted slightly, in that delightful feminine way, as her lips fleeted across mine, and then I'd giggled as her tongue tickled my belly.

She'd been feeling my dick by then, no doubt about that; an image in my mind showed her squatting on the floor between my legs, a dribble of tequila running carelessly from her grinning mouth, her breasts hot and luscious against my inner thighs as both her hands rested casually across my erection.

It still seemed so natural.

"You know," she'd said carefully, drunkenly, making sure to enunciate every word, "I'm still offended at your choice of shorts." I'd been grinning like a fool, her hands warm on my dick. "What color undies are you wearing, Mr D?"

I must have flirted back, in kind; I couldn't remember saying shit, but next thing I knew she'd been standing before me, peeling those clinging sweatpants down her legs, revealing a gloriously inflamed pussy with a wispy trail of dark brown hair above and a dribbling line of juices below, already running down her thigh. "See?" she'd proclaimed, swaying slightly, "I told you I wasn't wearing any."

* * *

No indeed. As I dried off after getting out of the tub, I looked listlessly up at my suit pants, still slightly damp, hanging off the other towel rack next to Alicia's green dress, now shimmering like an emerald waterfall. Voices from the rest of the house rose and fell: Alicia's ringing laughter, Kaylen's flat, loud rebuttals, and a low series of pained mutters that could only be the disgruntled Chloe. The towels were tiny and monogrammed; I couldn't find any that seemed the right size. I cleared my throat; I had no idea where my underwear had gone. "Um, Alicia?" I shouted into the grimness of the morning, and the girls' voices switched off like a TV. "Alicia? Can you come up here, please?"

I heard another cackle from Kaylen, then Alicia's self-satisfied voice. "See, girls? My prince needs me. Duty calls!" Louder, she shouted back to me. "What's up, Mr Davis?"

I needed clothing; that's what was up. Not that I could holler that through the echoing house. "Uh, just come up."

"I'm on my way!" Another of Kaylen's raucous laughs sent Alicia around to what I assumed would be the bottom of some stairs; certainly sounded that way. "Can you come to the top of the stairs? I don't want the eggs to burn."

Where were the fucking stairs? She seemed to forget I'd never been in this place before. "Uh, sure." I tucked away my softening dick, still unsatisfied after Chloe's interruption, and wrapped the towel around my waist. It barely got around, leaving a big gap along my left thigh. I clasped the corners together in a fist at my waist and went hunting for Alicia's voice.

I found it at the top of a big stairway with a tacky, expensive-looking balustrade and Alicia's fresh face grinning up from the bottom. Kaylen, of course, had tagged along, also in one of the fluffy bathrobes; hadn't been able to find one of those, either. My grip tightened on the inadequate towel. "Feeling better?" Alicia was smiling, I noticed, most fetchingly. I tried to ignore it.

"Where'd my clothes wind up?"

Alicia frowned. "I told you, I washed everything. Your shirt's all dry. Did you find your pants?"

"No, he didn't," Kaylen said at once, grinning up at me. I ignored that, too.

"Yeah, but they're still damp. I was, uh, more curious about my underwear." My volume sank off dramatically at the end of that sentence, but Kaylen giggled anyway. Alicia arched an eyebrow.

"Huh. Yeah. I don't remember putting those into the wash." She considered. "Did you check the bedroom? I mean, if I remember right they were already off by then, but I haven't seen them anywhere else."

Kaylen was laughing now, eyeing her friend. "You had him naked before you even got to the bedroom?"

Alicia's smile grew devious. "Yeah. We were already doing it in the upstairs den, but he wanted to get me on my back."

"Jesus! Girls!" My dignity was long gone, but I didn't need them discussing my alleged performance right in front of me. "Can you just find them, please?"

Alicia crossed her arms beneath her boobs and winked saucily. "Seems to me that's your job, Mr D. They're your underwear; why should I crawl around looking for them?"

"I'll look for them," Kaylen burst in. "I'll sell them back to you for thirty dollars or a blowjob." Alicia laughed gaily.

"Your blowjobs are only worth three bucks, five tops."

"How would you know, bitch?" They were both grinning widely now, happily sharing the joke while I stood there getting more and more frustrated.

Alicia swatted her friend on the ass. "I'm going to go check on breakfast. Kaylen will help you look, Mr Davis."

"Absolutely." The redhead blew me a kiss. "I'll come up and square you away, Mr D. Always happy to help my favorite teacher!" She'd already started up the stairs when she paused and glanced back up at me. "You might as well know, Mr Davis," she said innocently, "I can see your balls under your towel."

"Gahh!" I fled to the bedroom I'd woken up in, hoping to find my boxer briefs before Kaylen made it the rest of the way up the steps. No dice, of course; the room was spotless, a typical guest room that showed little use except for the rumpled bedsheets and the wide stain on the mattress, scattered here and there with mine and Alicia's pubic hair.

Goddamn.

"So," Kaylen announced, sweeping grandly into the room. She took a seat on the bed and looked critically at the wet spot. "Tell me the truth, Mr D: before last night, had you ever fucked a student?"

I gave her a withering glance, but I was in absolutely no position to assert any kind of authority. I looked out the window. "It's not something I make a habit of," I said shortly.

"Huh. Bet you're going to be thinking about it all the time now, though," she speculated, lying back on top of the sheets. "I've heard Alicia's a demon in the sack."

I sighed. "I really don't remember much of last night, Kaylen," I admitted, unable to escape a little thrill of excitement as her majestic auburn hair fanned across the pillow. She raised her hands under her head, the bathrobe beginning to gape open over her breasts.

"Chloe said you were jacking off in the bathtub," she observed with a sneaky smile. "You liked looking at me, I could tell. Can I ask you a personal question?"

Shit. Under these circumstances? Was she serious? "What do you want, Kaylen?"

"Did I ever make you hard in class last year?"

I sighed again. No point in lying, not now; this little minx already knew what I'd say, lying there with certainty in her pale blue eyes. I could say no, but she'd know the real answer. "Not during class, no. But later?" I shrugged. "I'm just a man, Kaylen." Shit, I'd jacked off to her a dozen times or more.

"Cool." She winked at me. "I like that you're being honest, Mr D. I always did like your class, even though I was kind of a bitch to you. But it's nice to know you don't hold a grudge." She moved her hand nonchalantly down to the pocket of the bathrobe. "You know, funny thing," she went on, frowning, "I found this in the hallway outside when I got out of the shower." Her hand came out of the pocket, my soiled underwear dangling from her fingers. "Wonder how it got there."

Uh oh.

"Seems kind of dirty." She made a big show of sniffing at it. "Smells like a penis. A man's penis, though, not some boy's." She looked craftily over at me. "I've had a lot of boys, but only one or two men." She let her eyes travel lewdly down my body, her bathrobe gaping wider now, showing everything from her impressive cleavage to her navel, and there was nothing for it: my dick rose, helplessly, the useless towel rising with it. She watched, her face taking on a look of satisfaction as I stood there like an idiot. For some reason, this goddess saying "penis" was incredibly arousing; much moreso than her saying "dick" or "cock."

"I'd offer this back to you," she went on, turning sideways to face me, "but you wouldn't want to put a filthy pair of boxers on that nice, clean body, now, would you." The robe fell open, one of those incredible breasts popping right into view, the nipple now firming. My dick was a towel rack.

"I should wash those." I was mesmerized by her, totally captivated.

"Or get your body dirty again," she suggested in a whisper. "I can do that for you if you want. We've got time before breakfast, if you're... up to it." She nibbled at her lower lip. "I've always wanted to fuck a teacher."

Shit. This woman had my throat dry and my cock rock-solid, and there was no point anymore in that stupid towel. Whatever part of me had still been trying to think with my brain now just gave up, her fingers picking casually at the bathrobe's knotted belt as she eyed me boldly, and I dropped the towel and stood there rampant as fuck, letting her see me nude for the second time that morning.

Only this time, I was ready to nail her.

"You're pretty good-looking," she said, her calm voice contrasting nicely with the angry red flush creeping across her chest. The belt undone, she now flung the robe open and arched herself sensuously across the sheets, seductive as any high-priced callgirl, already a first-rate whore at just eighteen. "For a teacher."

"You're sexy as hell," I told her baldly, "and not just for a student." I could feel myself salivating, actually drooling over Kaylen's body. She was shimmying her arms calmly free of the robe now, getting completely naked for me, her legs coming lazily open. I cleared my throat, finally feeling my mojo, my lust-driven mind at last forgetting that she was anything but a hot woman. "You said something about thirty dollars?"

"And Alicia said, what, five?" She stretched her hand toward me as I came alongside the bed and laid a knee on the mattress. "We were both kidding. In reality, my blowjobs are worth at least a hundred, easily." She let her fingers graze along my shaft, giving the head a little tweak as she came away. Both her hands now went to her chest, squeezing hard, forcing them together, and her voice had abandoned any kind of humor. "Come lay your cock between my tits, Mr D. Give me a little appetizer before I let you fuck me."