Mr. Willoughby and Kimberly

When Michael accidentally intrudes on his favorite teacher having sex with a buxom student, in exchange for his silence he is invited to be part of a threesome!

Part One

It was late in the 1982-83 academic year in what was my final high school semester. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Willoughby, was also my English teacher that year. I quite liked his quirky personality. I suppose he was about 45 years old at the time. He was certainly a bit of an eccentric, but so was I, so that was alright by me.

For some reason I, Michael Bradley, distinctly recall it was a Wednesday. That day in English class—which was always the first class I had after lunch—Mr. Willoughby introduced us to a short story titled “The Verger”. It was written by British author Somerset Maugham in 1930.

The story’s plot had a longtime verger—a vicar’s assistant at St. Peter’s, a prominent London cathedral—being fired by the church elders after they discover he is illiterate. It didn’t matter that the unfortunate man had capably held his job for 16 years and had never received a single complaint. Once the church’s power-holders learned that Albert Edward Foreman could neither read nor right, he was terminated. The ex-verger accepted his cruel fate well. As he sadly walked home, he searched for a place to buy tobacco, but he could not find one. However, he came across a vacant store. He figured a tobacconist would do well in such a location, so he immediately decided to buy the store with his life savings and convert it into a smoke shop. His hunch proved to be accurate. It became a huge success, leading Albert Foreman to buy a second store, then a third one, and then multiple stores. He became exceedingly rich! The story concludes with his banker visiting Albert so he can sign some important documents. It is then the astonished banker learns that Albert is illiterate. The banker exclaims to the highly successful businessman, “Imagine where you’d be if you could read and write!” Albert tersely says, “I’d be verger at St. Peter’s.”

Mr. Willoughby unnecessarily made it clear to his students that the message of the story was about resilience and courage in the face of adversity—not that being illiterate was a laudable trait.

When the story was finished, Mr. Willoughby saw that I had a pensive expression on my face. He often picked my brain, so he curiously asked me what I was thinking about. “This story—or one just like it—is familiar to me,” I stated. Then it occurred to me why. “I know!” I declared. “In the seventh grade, my teacher, Mr. Fleming, read us a similar story. It was an Americanized version of this one. The lead character wasn’t a vicar; he was a doorman at a posh hotel. The same thing happens to him. He is fired for being illiterate and uses his savings to buy a tobacco shop which becomes wildly successful. He eventually owns a dozen stores. A newspaper reporter is assigned to write the ex-doorman’s biography. The scribe is stunned to learn the wealthy businessman is illiterate and asks him where he’d be if he could read and write. He gets the answer, “I’d be a hotel doorman.” A longtime classmate of mine Terry Gardiner, who had been in my seventh-grade class, also confirmed what I had just said.

“Well, that’s news to me,” said Mr. Willoughby. “I’d be interested in reading that version of the story just for purposes of comparison. Michael, the next time you are lingering in the school’s library, see if you can find that story for us.” He wasn’t being facetious. Mr. Willoughby knew I liked to hang out in the library and search for hidden treasures. (I told you I was eccentric.) I said, “Okay, I’ll do that!” Seconds later the bell rang to end English class for the day. I left the room and headed to my history class on the lower floor.

Once my history class ended an hour later, I promptly headed to the library to try to find the short story about the doorman. I figured my task had little chance of succeeding, but I still hopefully asked the librarian, Mrs. Holliday, for some guidance. She pointed me to a shelf that held a few collections of short stories. I thanked her for her help and began sifting through them. It took me about half an hour before I amazingly found what I was looking for. It was titled “The Story of Silas”. My discovery occurred shortly before Mrs. Holliday intended to shoo me out because the library was going to close for the day. Thrilled that I had been successful, I checked out the book and headed back to my homeroom, up one flight of stairs, to show it to Mr. Willoughby—if he was still lingering there.

Part Two

Kimberly Pike, a large blonde girl, was another peer of mine. She had occasionally been in my class since I started middle school. She was notable for two reasons: First, she was at least a year older than I was, having been held back for academic ineptitude once or twice. Second, she had a massive set of breasts! Not only were they more copious than any other girl’s in Mr. Fleming’s class, but they also were bigger than any female teacher possessed. You couldn’t help but notice how chesty she was—especially if you were a 13-year-old boy. Kimberly was certainly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Accordingly, she struggled in every course. She was not going to advance to any Ivy League institution upon graduating from high school.

I mention Kimberly at this time because when I ascended the staircase and opened the door of Mr. Willoughby’s classroom, I not only encountered my favorite teacher, I also encountered the buxom Kimberly. She was kneeling, merrily performing fellatio on him while gloriously topless! Needless to say, they were both flabbergasted by my untimely appearance at that particular moment.

“Uh, sorry for disturbing you two,” I muttered with great embarrassment. “I wanted to show Mr. Willoughby that I’d found the short story he sent me searching for in the school library.”

“I’m sorry I forgot to lock the door,” Mr. Willoughby noted. “Please do that for me, Michael.” I did.

While Kimberly half-heartedly tried to cover her breasts with her hands (she would have needed two catcher’s mitts for that task!), Mr. Willoughby tried to explain to me what was going on in his classroom. “Here is what’s happening, Michal,” he began. “Kimberly has zero chance of passing my English course. She needs to score 106 percent on the final exam to even raise her overall grade to a D. That’s plainly impossible. She suggested an alternative: In exchange for a C on her report card, she’d perform various sexual acts for me. I’m a middle-age bachelor who doesn’t get much sex, so I readily agreed to the deal. I’m sure you know the old adage: Man cannot live on bread alone. Anyway, Michael, Kimberly had just begun pleasuring me about two minutes before you walked in on us having a bit of carnal fun together.”

“I see,” I said. Boy, did I see!

Mr. Willoughby now realized I had become a new factor in the equation. He stated, “If you report this incident, Michael, my teaching career will be immediately over and Kimberly will likely be expelled from this school without graduating. Nobody wants that to happen. Perhaps we can work out a suitable arrangement that would be beneficial to all three of us.”

Kimberly quickly came up with an acceptable idea. “I’ll give both of you blowjobs and fuck the two of you, too. You two will be happy. I’ll get my C from Mr. Willoughby—which means I’ll get my high school diploma. Then we’ll all shut up about it forever.”

“As long as Kimberly doesn’t think I’m intruding, that works for me!” I confirmed without much hesitation. Mr. Willoughby said pretty much the same thing. Kimberly nodded her assent, and we all promptly disrobed. I did make a point of watching Kimberely remove her pink panties. She had shaved her pussy; it was completely hairless. I suspected she was not new at performing sexual feats for fun and favors. I honestly wondered how often she had used her curvaceous body to advance from one grade to the next when the usual academic route failed.

Kimberly went back to kneeling before Mr. Willoughby and sucking on his penis. I could tell by his facial expression that he was enjoying the sensation immensely. How could he not? I positioned myself behind Kimberly’s bum, knelt, and started slowly to enjoy her natural goodies. I was quite content to fondle her massive, jiggly breasts for a few minutes. They were literally three times the size of any girl’s I had gotten my hands on during all my years in high school. Bouncy and pliable, what wonderful playthings they were for me to happily caress! After only a few seconds, I felt Kimberly’s nipples get noticeably hard—nearly as hard as my rapidly rising erection.

When my dick got as stiff as possible, I slid it into Kimberly’s warm pussy without giving her any advance warning. (She might have been as dumb as a rock, but she had to know that was going to happen!) I heard her moan slightly between licks on Mr. Willoughby’s shaft. She apparently liked my sudden penetration of her! Encouraged by the subtle positive feedback, I grabbed the cheeks of Kimberly’s prominent bottom for leverage and began thrusting my manhood in and out of her at a relaxed pace. I was enjoying fucking this large, vapid girl. Mr. Willoughby gave me a contented smile, which I returned.

About two minutes later, Mr. Willoughby suggested we switch places. “I want to fuck Kimberly’s pussy now, Michael. Are you okay with changing spots with me? I hope so. You’ll enjoy Kimberly licking your dick. She’s quite good at it, I assure you.”

I agreed to do so with a laugh. Mr. Willoughby using profanity was something completely new to my ears.

I moved away from her behind and now stood in front of Kimberly’s face to receive a blowjob while the kneeling Mr. Willoughby’s dick replaced mine in her vagina. “Oh, it’s very nice in here!” he stated as he wasted no time thrusting away. I was getting equal enjoyment from Kimberly’s superb oral skills. She was especially adroit at using her tongue for maximum effect on the tip of my penis. This girl may have been truly terrible in a classroom setting, but she was indisputably an A-plus sex partner. I think she knew and understood what her role was in the grand scheme of life.

The joint pleasure was too overwhelming for either Mr. Willoughby or me to last much longer. I heard my English teacher emit a series of brief, sharp groans. I correctly assumed he was ejaculating inside the wonderful confines Kimberly’s pussy. That visual image put me over the edge, too. For a moment I considered coming in Kimberly’s sexy mouth, but I wanted to fire my load on her face instead. In the handful of sexual experiences I’d had in my years at this high school, I hadn’t yet banged a girl who allowed me that particular sloppy liberty. I figured Kimberly couldn’t possibly object if I gave her no time to object!

Accordingly, I pulled my throbbing shaft from her mouth and took aim at her forehead. My marksmanship was off by a little bit as my first rope of jism struck Kimberly squarely between her blue eyes. A second, harder blast hit her nose and lips, with some of my sperm actually entering her mouth. (She sexily let the cum slowly drip out of it and fall onto her chest. That was hot!) I raised my weapon slightly for weak, third ejaculation that did connect with her forehead. To my amazement, there were still a few dribbles of sperm left in my dick which I spread on her chin, using my penis like it was a paintbrush. The end result was that buxom, blonde Kimberly Pike had her face completely covered with my ejaculate while her ravaged pussy was dripping with Mr. Willoughby’s cum shot. Kimberly did not complain one bit about being a sperm receptacle. We were both contented fellows. We stealthily shook hands while Kimberly momentarily looked the other way.

We were also gentleman and we both behaved as gentlemanly as humanly possible following a hot threesome with a bimbo. I grabbed the box of tissues from Mr. Willoughby’s desk and we both helped Kimberly wipe off the goo—my goo—that was steadfastly clinging to her face. We almost needed to open a second box to take care of my mess. (That fact quietly impressed me!) I noticed that some of it had gotten into Kimberley’s blonde tresses. A bit had even flown into the top of her right ear. (I was suitably impressed by that, too!) When Kimberly used her abdominal muscles to skillfully expel the sperm from her vagina, Mr. Willoughby cleaned up that residue by himself. The skill that Kimberly displayed confirmed to me without any doubt that she was a seasoned veteran at doing this type of thing.

Something occurred to me. “I never did finger your vagina, Kimberly. It looks so inviting. Do you mind if I do that now?” I asked her.

“Sure, Michael. Whatever makes you happy,” was her affirmative response.

Therefore, as a winddown exercise, I caressed Kimberly’s pussy while Mr. Willoughby finally got around to playing with her massive tits after getting her permission to do so. I couldn’t resist using a literary term. I said, “This is what I call a wonderful denouement, sir!” Mr. Wiloughby laughed out loud. Not surprisingly, insipid Kimberly didn’t understand the scholarly allusion at all. She just sat there while her body was gently fondled by two horny males.

After a few minutes of groping, we called it quits and Kimberly got dressed. We both helped her do that too, which was surprisingly fun. Then she departed the classroom as a C student who did not deserve her grade. I later learned that Kimberly, two weeks later on the appointed day, made a token appearance to write the final exam for Mr. Willoughby’s English class. She only put her name on her paper and sat silently for the minimum hour that was required from each student. After 60 minutes elapsed, she rose from her desk and submitted her blank exam to end her pitiful academic career. What became of Kimberly Pike I do not know, but I believed she could have had a profitable career as a call girl for many years with such a buxom body and a truly great attitude about having meaningless sex with males.

Mr. Willoughby and I got dressed shortly thereafter. We took our time and didn’t dwell too much about the enjoyable joint carnal romp we had just enjoyed with Kimberly. Instead, I quickly showed him the American short story he had sought and I had found. We both agreed that “The Story of Silas” was a clear ripoff of “The Verger” and was essentially plagiarism. He thanked me for taking the time to find it for him in the school’s library.

As I was heading out the door, Mr. Willoughby stopped me for a moment. He thanked me for not immediately reporting his dalliance with Kimberly to the office. Without saying so, he was wanting my guarantee that I would never tell anyone about it. I said, “Sir, your secret—our secret—is safe with me. I enjoyed fucking Kimberly as much as you did. Mum’s the word!”

He smiled at me. Then Mr. Willoughby surprised me by saying something out of the blue. He noted, “This is my twenty-first year of teaching high school English, Michael. Today wasn’t the first time I’ve accepted sexual favors from a female student in exchange for a passing grade. The first time was 15 years ago. The second time was about eight years ago. I suspect there will be a fourth time somewhere down the road. I’ll have to be more careful about locking the door whenever it happens. I don’t know what I’d do with my life If I lost my teaching career over a sex scandal with a teenage pupil.”

“Maybe you could be the verger at St. Peter’s Church!” I suggested with a chuckle.

Mr. Willoughby laughed at my clever quip and dismissively waved me out of his classroom.