Nexus Facility 3: Ian heads to Classics

The school's teaching of Classics had been the preserve of a stereotypically corduroy jacketed and elbow patched pencil-necked dweeb called Mr Cross, who had all the exemplary appearance of a man more familiar with a library then with a strip club, a medieval manuscript rather than a dirty magazine, and who was far likelier to have an infatuation with the goddess Hera then with a real life-goddess like Laura hart, Diamond Gazongas or Zoe Monroe. In fact, Mr Cross’s employment at the school was due entirely to a freak administrative error.

The recruitment agency made an alarming error, mixing up one ‘B Cross’ with another, and instead of ending up teaching classics at one of the nation’s more prestigious public schools, the gorgeous, enormously busty and remarkably strict latex-clad dominatrix Bea Cross, known for her remorseless and unsparing use of a variety of paddles, whips and other instruments of flagellation, not to mention more penetrative appurtenances, ended up with a very happy and surprisingly long lived career doling out her own brand of strict justice, antiquated knowledge, and a few thrashings besides to the young scions of the country’s ruling elite.

The sadistic Pro-domme Madame Cross used to have a saying in her dungeon: ‘Behave, or I will B. Cross.’ She subsequently found that it worked just as well at Eton.

Meanwhile, mild-mannered Brian Cross, thirty years of hard scholarly yards behind him, and a track record of an almost inconceivably bad efforts to publish his work, blithely pitched up at the school one sunny May morning, took one look at the receptionist behind the desk, and vowed to send the ladies back at the recruitment teacher agency a really big bunch of flowers, a fruit bowl, and several boxes of extravagant chocolates.

As the female staff of the school knew extremely well, appearances could be deceptive. But even the most forgiving and experienced bimbo slut educators that prowled the halls of the school didn't credit Mr Cross with having much to offer, and didn't expect him to last much longer than a heartbeat or two. The simple spreading of their silken legs turned the most seasoned cocksmiths into two pump chumps. Gina Taylor did a treble take upon meeting Brian at reception on the morning he arrived, expecting a forty year old monster jugged latex clad domme, but welcomed him all the same. After all, he was a live human body, and lessons needed to be taught. She dumped him outside Classics and crossed herself.

But Brian Cross was unfazed by his new surroundings. Indeed, the classicist, exposed to a hitherto unimaginable Elysian Fields of extreme sexual debauch, nude, pneumatic, torpedo titted teenage fuckdolls at every turn, an entire educational establishment brimming with the divine nectar of the Gods, and with sweet, ambrosial delights willingly within his grasp at all times – to be clear, he could fuck his students he realised quickly - recognized, with a remarkably clear sighted-frankness, that he had wasted his life. Taking the blow on the chin with remarkable fortitude, Brian Cross did the only thing he felt it possible to do.

He began to make up for lost time.

After a few days Brian's tenure, he had caused a minor stir amongst his stacked female colleagues that he was still alive.

By the end of the first fortnight, everyone, including the student body, was surprised at Brian's enthusiasm for the role.

And after Brian had been teaching for a month, there were serious talk of the tweedy Classics teacher setting new records. Ans the records were good. They were records for a reason.

Brian Cross cut a swathe through the student body with all the demented enthusiasm of a man that had spent 30 years trapped inside a library, consuming only books, only to be released into a palace of fornication where hundreds of teenage fuckpuppet dreamgirl porn nymphets begged him every second of the day, with serious devotion, to lay fucking pipe in their pussies and tight little asses.

Which is in fact exactly what he was.

Indeed, it was only a few days after Brian Cross had begun to teach Classics in the school that the illustrious Nurse Pennyweather had managed to rock up to him with her enhancement trolley, meaning that the unassuming 50-year-old, complete with paunch and salt-and-pepper-hair, had been powering through six lessons a day, each with at least 15 female students, for the entire first week of teaching without any penile or stamina enhancement whatsoever.

Put simply, Brian Cross, an unassuming classics scholar who ended up in the wrong place because of an administrative mistake, spent the entire first week of teaching smashing around a hundred eighteen-to-twenty year old pornified teen schoolgirl sluts every single day.

And that wasn't bad in anyone's book.

And every one of those students left the room fully satisfied.

So he made it through probation.

Gina kept an eye on him after the first week and the chaotic Nurse Pennyweather had gone to work. Post-enhancement, Brian Cross had sprouted a beast cock ridged, thick, and beefy as a butcher’s forearm that stretched to 16 inches. It was a monster like a gorgon. And it spat cum everywhere. 

Gina dropped to her knees every time she saw it. As did everyone else. 

This time it was Gina’s turn to send the girls at the recruitment agency a thankyou. It was a framed photograph which featured herself, Felicity Pennyweather, Laura Hart and Miss Clelland clustered around the precum belching monster fuckpole, all with exaggeratedly astonished ‘cock shock’ faces, some looking at the camera, some at the huge hog that Brian sported, with the caption ‘THANK YOU XXX’.

All of a sudden, the study of Classics became incredibly popular within the school.

It was Laura Hart who had regaled Ian with Mr Cross’s history of employment at the school. During his early days of initiation, Ian had rather uncharitably taken Mr Cross her face value after passing an incredibly boring lunch break with him in the staff room where Brian dilated endlessly on the difference between Doric and Ionic Columns. Laura not only expatiated on Mr Cross’s inspiring origin story, but also gave Ian the finer points, clearly detailing the time that Mr Cross had been kind enough to show her some of the less well-known gymnastic pursuits enjoyed by early Olympian athletes. Laura had laid it on thick, in particular, laying it on thick about how Mr Cross had himself laid it on thick with her (she had seen few cum storms like it). And she had the pictures to prove it. Early in the acquaintance, Ian felt twinge of jealousy, but also realised quickly that he underestimated his colleagues at his peril.

Given Mr Cross’s impeccable credentials, Ian found himself wondering what could have befallen his highly competent and well-liked colleague. He fervently hoped that age wasn't catching up with Mr Cross, but somehow that seemed unlikely.

Hurrying up the stairs towards the classics department, Ian was uncharacteristically brusque with the involved and passionate gang fucking that was taking place in the lower hallway, and while otherwise irresistible and gorgeous sluts like Vicky Lane, Sanddy Sexton, and Becca Bootie getting annihilated by the first year boys might have piqued his interest, he tried to hurry by.

However, he did notice that they weren’t getting the royal treatment in the way that they were accustomed to.

It wasn't that the first years we were doing badly, though they lacked experience compared to the girls and perhaps a little bit of class and finesse. The experience aspect created a difficult constraint for the boys, as the girls of the school seemed to get so much more action and sported more holes with which to get continually and messily obliterated. Add to this the stunning range of techniques that the girls of the school had acquired in their pursuit of sexual perfection and it meant that it could take a good dozen first year male students to keep a certain Sanddy Sexton quiet, not to mention satisfied. Becca Bootie was swinging her ass cheeks and pumping her buttflesh with alternating stroke of her glutes so that the round, curvy, smooth, skin rippled deliciously. It was no real surprise that boys had formed a queue behind her, nor was it that they were messily exploding uncontrollably both into her gaping rectum as well as all over the glistening, toffee coloured cheeks of her junk. Vicky Lane was opposite Becca getting pumped by a cock in her ass and pussy, and Sanddy was trying to orchestrate a messy triple glazing gangfucking face bath by sticking her head in between Becca and Vicky's and exhorting whoever wanted to use their faces as target practice.

By now all the girls were pretty sticky, and cum was standing out on their faces, tits, hair, as well as roping off their drooling mouths in silvery strings.

‘Sir! Sir! Get that fat fucking schlong over here!’

As Ian caught Sanddy’s eye, someone else caught one of hers, one of the first years releasing a thick, bolt of hot goo that rocketed out of his distended bell end and smacked satisfyingly onto the bridge of Sandy's nose, the white gluey liquid splattering into both her eyeballs.

It would have taken a heart of stone to walk past her, and while Mr Cross’s need was urgent, Ian was sure that his colleague wouldn't begrudge him a quick stop off.

Ian approached the nucleus of the gangbang, which was winding down as many of the first years were into their fourth or fifth release of the session. As a result, there were sloppy puddles of spunk on the floor.

Sanddy looked up at Ian.

‘Get your dick out sir,’ she said to her favourite teacher. She wiggled her tongue at Ian.

Mr White groaned, dropped his shoulders, and then unbuckled his belt and his fly. Out swung his gigantic, veiny, muscularly pulsing length of slut slaying fuck pipe. He presented it to Sanddy, the glossy head of the meat python pointing at her.

Everyone was impressed when Ian got his cock out. It was fucking huge.

‘I’m in a rush, Sanddy,’ Ian said. He shoved the dick in his face. The expression on her face of pure whorish delight and appreciation made his day. She was stunningly beautiful and already being plastered in spunk made it that much better. He couldn’t recall the last time the svelte, monster-jugged teenage whore hadn’t been sporting a splattering of jizz on her features.

‘Fucking MONSTER COCK!!!’ Sanddy yelled with delight, ‘fucking give it to me sir!’

‘Ooooooooo yaaaasssss…’ Becca said, smiling, eyes going wide as she kept jiggling her huge round butt cheeks behind her, ‘I’ll never forget this thing spearing right up my shithole.’

Ian let his dick go from his hand and just let the near-nineteen inch length of veiny, tumescent flesh prod out towards Sanddy’s face. She slapped her tits from each side, hard.

‘UUUUUUURRRGHGHHGHGH!!!’

Ian gasped hoarsely as he responded to the stacked teenager’s sexual charms and whorish encouragement. His forearm-thick pulsing column of rock hard male flesh did similarly, the whole trunk heaving in a giant spasm that sent the brawny tube kicking up into the air as a hot gush of thick potent pre-ejaculate shot volcanically out of the tip of the smooth round pink cockend. Ian felt the emission grip at his loins almost like a fully orgasmic contraction, and grimaced as the muscles in his undercarriage and the thick tumescent tissues in his veiny, straight cum tube violently seized.

Sanddy got pelted directly in the face with a gooey load for the ages that snapped her head back and pasted her eyes shut with a heavy serving of pre spunk, and her whole face was left glistening from forehead to chin. She responded by giggling and controllably, delighted at the instant effusion that she had successfully coaxed from Ian, slick juices roping off her jawline.

Becca and Vicky shrieked and laughed at the monster jet of pre ejac that splattered Sanddy, but Ian quickly curled his fist around his meaty, goo spewing organ and directed his next to loads onto their faces as well, which added notes of shock and awe into the humour that had been most evident in their original expostulations. After this, Ian smooshed the underside of his bell end onto Sandy's mouth, the highly appreciative school girl smiling and smushing her own lips up against it, and then wiped the business end of his throbbing cock all over the three faces of the trio of freshly gang banged bimbos, evenly distributing the oily, slick, translucent discharge across their cheeks, eyes, lips, noses, chins, and foreheads. While they were all grinning, blinded, and gooey in the marvelling at his prodigious talents, Ian took his penis in his hand, this time lower down the shaft, and used it as a club to hammer against the delighted, cooing, upturned faces.

‘Fucking stupid whores!!!’ Ian said as he battered the cum drunk schoolgirls with his cock, bashing and bludgeoning them so that the spongy, round, apple-sized crown boinked off their noses, eyes, foreheads, chins and cheeks.

To finish, he planted his cock between Sanddy's enormous teenage fuck bags. She happily shook them together, and there was a squelching sound as the thick cum cannon squished between the slick spunk coated bowling ball - shaped chest pillows. The sensation of her heavy, firm jugs against his shaft was electric, even as he sawed it through the gluey lubricant of thick white spunk that had been splattered all over the fuckdoll’s ripe jugs.

Quite a few of the first-year boys were still somewhat in or of Ian so they had parted to allow him to approach her.

‘Melons!’

There was a call from up the stairs. Ian looked up. It came from Mr Cross.

‘Carry on boys!’ Ian said, ‘steathily withdrawing, thinking he had better save his ejaculation for whatever he encountered upon reaching classics. With that, although not bothering to even attempt to stuff his monstrously tumescent member back into his trousers, he gave Sanddy a final smacking belt between her huge tits and made his way up the staircase.

‘I didn’t even get to taaaste it…’ Ian heard Sanddy pout, followed by a delightful feminine ‘EEEEKKK!’ as she presumably copped another facial.