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While I was at university I had several jobs I did in my copious free time. Being young I didn’t need to sleep, ever, and I could eat while working. Some jobs I could even study while working, waiting for putative customers who never arrived. As far as I was concerned I’d take any honest work that came along, as long as it helped pay the bills.
I wasn’t totally dependent on these odd jobs for money. My father could afford to pay my way and was quite willing to do so if required. It was more a point of honour to do it myself. Also, squeezed into the odd corners of my day, I had an online business, writing apps. Some were written to spec for customers and some were written for the hell of it. You know the sort of thing. Write a games app and see if there were any takers. Most of them bombed but I did get a healthy return on a couple and I was building a nice little nest egg. If the apps really started selling I’d ditch the part time jobs and concentrate on the online business. Altogether I was doing OK.
One of the jobs I had was cleaning at the local school. It was a night job, only taking an hour or so after night school was finished. Some people look down on cleaning as beneath them but I didn’t care. Like I said, any honest job, and it paid.
This was one of my nights for cleaning at the school and I fronted up around ten, expecting the place to be effectively deserted, which it was. There were still a few students and teachers floating around but they were all making going home noises. I ignored them and set to work.
In the third classroom I came to I ran into a small surprise. There were a couple of cheerleaders there, bent over the teacher’s desk and examining some paperwork. How did I know they were cheerleaders? They were both wearing their cheerleader costumes. Why, I wondered, were two cheerleaders, in costume, at night school? I could understand the night school, but why the uniforms?
Deciding it wasn’t any of my business I ignored them (Which took some effort. I like cheerleaders.) and got on with my own business, to wit, cleaning.
And the snide comments started. Not loud enough to actually be addressed to me but definitely loud enough to make sure I could hear them. Comments about losers and cleaning. Comments about how they would have decent jobs when they left school. On it went, interspersed with giggles, the girls having a great time running down the old boy who had to do cleaning. When I say old boy I’m not referring to my age as I only had a year or so on the girls. I mean it as in having attended the same school, Mary-Anne and Cheryl having been one class below mine.
I steadfastly ignored the remarks, just going on with my work. Finally, when all I had to do was empty the rubbish bin, I gave way to curiosity. As the rubbish bin was next to the teacher’s table I decided to ask the girls why they were there.
“As a matter of curiosity, just why are the pair of you here, at night, in your cheerleader outfits? Not that there’s anything wrong with those outfits, you look quite charming, but just a bit out of place.”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Cheryl replied, “but we’re doing some special courses with Mrs Fotsome at night school. We’ll get extra credits for them. We wouldn’t want to find ourselves having to take cleaning jobs when we leave school.”
Mrs Fotsome, Mrs Fotsome, what did she teach? Oh, yes, remedial English for some of the slower students.
“I don’t think either of you need to worry about that. To do a cleaning job you need at least some experience of doing cleaning.”
“And just what is that remark meant gaziantep escortları to mean?” snapped Marie.
“I know your brother,” I told her, smiling. “He’s described what your bedroom looks like. What was it he said? A room that no self-respecting pig would dare enter.”
I turned back to Cheryl.
“I assume from your remarks about cleaning that your room is similar.”
Both girls were giving me looks intended to turn me into a greasy, smouldering, spot on the floor but they didn’t work. Smiling, I reached down for the rubbish bin, only to finding Cheryl giving it a swift kick, smiling the content across the floor.
“Oh, so sorry,” she cooed. “My foot slipped. Still, it’ll give you a chance to practice your cleaning.”
She was standing right next me, wearing that abbreviated cheerleaders skirt, or wide belt as my mother calls it. It was the work of a moment to flick her skirt up, grab her pants and yank them down.
“Oh, so sorry,” I said, trying to imitate the way she spoke. “My hand slipped. Still, it’ll give you a chance to practice your fucking.”
“Dear me. Such language from a nicely brought up young girl such as yourself. You should be ashamed of yourself. Ah, how old are you exactly?”
“Eighteen. Let go my dress.”
“Oh, sorry. I hadn’t realised that I was holding it up.” The hell I hadn’t. I was looking on with interest. “Eighteen, you say. That’s unfortunate.”
“Why is it unfortunate? Let it go.”
“In a moment. Marie, your age?”
“I’m also eighteen. I think you know that.”
“Um, doubly unfortunate, in that case.”
“Why is it unfortunate?”
“Well, I was just going to give Cheryl an admonishing spank but that’s inappropriate if she’s eighteen. So I guess I’m just going to have to go ahead and fuck her instead.”
“The hell you say!” snapped Cheryl.
“I guess I can understand why it’s unfortunate for Cheryl, but why is it unfortunate that I’m also eighteen?” demanded Marie.
“Well, you were making rude comments earlier, as well as Cheryl. It would be wrong of me to just reprimand Cheryl. So after I finish with her then naturally you’d have to have your turn.”
At this stage, seeing Cheryl was trying to tug her dress out of my grasp, I let it go. It was more intimate to adjust my hold so my hand was on her pussy. Cheryl, for some reason, didn’t agree and backed away slightly. As I followed her movements she found herself pressing back against the table with nowhere to go.
“As you can see,” I told Marie, “Cheryl wants to lean back against the table for her little adventure. You, you lucky girl, get to watch as I take her. When we’ve finished I’ll get you to bend forward over the table and I’ll take you from behind. It gives you something to anticipate.”
Oddly enough, while Cheryl was looking flushed and embarrassed, Marie was looking as though she really was anticipating getting fucked. Or maybe she was anticipating watching Cheryl getting fucked. She certainly didn’t seem nervous about the suggestion.
“Come on, you’re not really going to try to fuck me are you?” demanded Cheryl, trying to sound scornful, I think, but succeeding in sounding highly nervous.
For answer, I relinquished my stroking of her mound which, as far as I could tell, was now hot and wet, no matter what she might wish. I very deliberately undid my belt and shoved my trousers down, revealing the fact that if I wasn’t serious I was, at the very least, ready.
Cheryl was looking at my cock, eyes wide, saying nothing. I reached for her dress again and lifted it, tucking the hem into the waist.
“What did you do that for?”
“It was in the way and it would block your view,” I said, moving closer, my cock now brushing against her.
“Oh, come on, you’re just teasing,” she muttered. “He’s just teasing, isn’t he, Marie,” she said, appealing for support.
“Um, I don’t think he is,” Marie told her. “That cock looks awfully ready for a little fun, if you ask me.”
The position Cheryl was in, backed up to the table, hands behind her stopping herself from going any further, legs nicely parted, was just right as far as I was concerned. I couldn’t have arranged things better if I’d tried, which made me wonder, just a little, how serious her protests were. I hadn’t noticed the word no coming into use.
I swayed back a little, dragging my cock against her, then moved closer again, my cock now sliding between her legs, rubbing against her slit. A little fumbling and suddenly my cock was engaged, her lips closing around it. Now the protest and exclamations were coming faster, albeit in rather a quiet voice.
It was all, ‘oh my god’, and ‘you shouldn’t be doing this’, and ‘how dare you’, and ‘stop laughing, Marie. This is serious’.
I calmly ignored the commentary, pushing steadily forward, sinking deeper with every moment that passed. Cheryl hadn’t moved her eyes from where she’d had them, watching as I sank into her. A quick glance at Marie showed that she was also watching, an avid look on her face. It wasn’t until I drove in that last inch or so, our groins slapping together, that Cheryl switched her gaze up to look me in the eye.
“How could you do this to me?” she demanded.
Surprisingly easily, in my considered opinion, her resistance, on a scale of one to five, being one or less.
“Like this,” I told her, pulling almost all the way out and returning in another long slow thrust.
Now that I’d started I continued with a very slow beat, pulling back slowly and returning just as slowly. Almost from the word go Cheryl was pushing to meet me, protesting all the time, telling me she didn’t know where I got the nerve to do such a thing to her. She was also starting to get a little restless, wanting me to do more but not wanting to say so as that would seem like approval. It was Marie who caught on to what I was doing and enlightened her.
“Um, Cheryl, you do realise that he’s moving so slowly just to tease you, don’t you?” she suddenly observed.
A startled look flashed across Cheryl’s face as she absorbed this little gem and then she gave me a very nasty look.
“You bastard,” she stated clearly and distinctly, and the tone she used said she meant it.
I grinned at her and started moving faster. She gave a sigh of relief and matched my movements, still muttering about inconsiderate jerks who didn’t know how to treat a lady, but her heart was no longer in the complaints. She was being distracted by what we were doing to each other.
There followed a short period of bliss as I did my best to satisfy her. She seemed quite willing to accept my efforts, pushing hard to meet me. Everything went smoothly and I only had one little problem. While I was quite willing to keep doing her until she climaxed I didn’t want to have a climax myself. Well, I did, but not just yet. I still had Marie to attend to. Never let it be said that I fell down on my duties.
Fortunately it worked out the way I wanted. I could sense that Cheryl was nearly there and I gave a little added something to my driving. It didn’t take long and I saw her eyes open wide and she stuffed a hand in her mouth to stifle a scream as she shuddered beneath me, her passage tightening around me to extract my juices. How I managed to hang onto them I’ll never know.
I disengaged from Cheryl, my erection harder than ever, and looked at Marie.
“What?” she said, looking back at me, face flushed.
I flicked up the front of her dress for a moment.
“Why,” I asked, “are your panties still on?”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “You’re kidding me. You just did it.”
“Ah, yes, I know. I was there, remember. Now it’s your turn. Don’t worry about the panties. I’ll take them down myself. Just bend over the table, there’s a good girl.”
I turned her to face the table and gently pushed her forward until she was bending over it. Flipping up her dress I calmly peeled her panties down, promptly covering her mound and giving it a gentle squeeze. She was most certainly ready. Watching me with Cheryl had got all her little lust hormones firing.
“But, but you can’t,” she protested.
“Does this feel like can’t?” I asked, easing her lips apart and pushing forward. I didn’t just ease myself into her. I drove in firmly, sheathing myself full length with that single hard lunge.
I held still at this point. From necessity. If I’d started pumping right away it would have been instant fireworks, I was that ready. I had to hold still to let my own lust die down a little. I put the time to good use. I unhooked her bra and let my hands find their way inside her top until I had hold of her breasts. Her nipples were hard little nubs, just waiting for me to pinch them.
I fondled her breast for a few moments, at the same time willing the pressure in my cock to die down a little. From the way that Marie was starting to move a little restlessly I didn’t have long or she’d start without my active participation. Trusting for the best I started moving in her.
I didn’t really think I’d be able to pull the slow and gentle stunt I’d used with Cheryl and so it proved. As soon as I pulled back and drove back home Marie was pushing hard to meet me, a little groan of relief escaping her lips.
There were no protests from Marie about how I shouldn’t be doing this, just an eager acceptance of what was happening. I found myself driving into her with great enthusiasm, being met with the same joyful abandon. A glance at Cheryl while I was doing this showed her watching intently, a lustful look now on her face. If she wanted a second serve then I was dead. I’d never realised that you needed two dicks to serve two women properly.
Ignoring Cheryl I concentrated on the task at hand which was pleasuring Marie. OK, I was actually pleasuring myself, but I wanted to make sure Marie had no complaints. You’re unlikely to get seconds if they’re complaints about the first and I had to look to the future. I might run into these girls another night. (Or I might actively seek them out with carnal intent.)
Marie, I must admit, was hot to trot. She was showing great enthusiasm and quite a deal of expertise in her responses. I felt like asking her if she’d had formal training but wisely kept my mouth shut. She was also coming to the point of climax a lot sooner than I had expected. Not that this was a bad thing from my point of view. I upped the tempo, really cutting loose, quite willing to have my own climax now. For all my readiness she still beat me to it, gasping and shaking as she let herself go. I promptly responded by letting myself go, jerking and bouncing and thoroughly squirting her.
After we’d tidied ourselves up the girls grabbed their paper-work and departed, apparently deciding they’d studied enough for one night. I got on with my cleaning duties. It just goes to show that being willing to do an honest job can have some unexpected benefits.
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