"Jesus, Sybil. These kids are so dumb." Stanley Wojnak said, slumping into a bar seat. The bartender waved to him, and began to pour him a bourbon.

"Slow learners?" Sybil asked, nursing her gimlet. He'd been a little late for their accustomed Friday after-work drink, and she'd started without him.

"Naw, naw. Hell, they're brighter than I am. I think Sesame Street's covering SQL these days. They knew more about Oracle outa college than I knew after ten years of database wrangling. I dunno why the company ever thought they needed a mentor. Good God, are they morons around chicks, though."

"But they're so cute!" she objected. She brushed a lock of curly brown hair, streaked with gray, back over her shoulder. "A couple of earnest, handsome young men like your boys shouldn't have any trouble getting dates."

"Oh, they get plenty of dates," Stanley conceded, "it's making their dates happy where they're blockheads."

Sybil grinned. "Ah, your real area of expertise."

Stanley had the good taste to blush. Barely. "I'm not the only expert tease in the room" he said, and winked. The wink brought a flood of very pleasant memories, and Sybil felt a rush of heat blossom in her chest. She wondered, not for the first time, how the hell he did it. It wasn't like Stanley was a particularly handsome man, or exceptionally well dressed, or well spoken. But when he looked at her like that...

"They come into the office with this week's sob story of breakups and strikeouts," he continued, "and I just want to shake the both of them. They're cocky where they should be humble, and then meek just when they need to be bold. I try to explain to them how they're getting it all wrong."

"Do you tell them that?"

"I've tried to give 'em a couple tips, but it's so hard to explain..."

"Maybe you need to give them a hands-on lesson," she teased.

He met her eye, grinned back. "Maybe I do. Busy next Friday?"

After a moment, she realized his meaning and broke eye contact, her face hot. She took a drink of her gimlet, trying to regain her composure. She could feel a throbbing between her legs.

"You son of a bitch," she said quietly.

He sipped his bourbon and said nothing.

"You want to gang bang me." she accused.

"You haven't said no yet."

She opened her mouth, pressed the tip of her tongue to her upper teeth, held it there. "Maybe," she said.

He smiled, delighted. "That's my Sybil!" He leaned over and kissed her, and she gasped into his mouth, startled at the force of her arousal.


The weekend passed, the week began. She was laying out a brochure on Tuesday when email arrived from Stanley. Its full text:

She replied:

The next message, a minute later was possibly the shortest email she'd ever received:

She went back to the brochure. Very little got done. A half-hour later, another very short email:

She replied,

Five minutes later, Stanley was knocking on her office door. "Come in," she called.

He entered and sat down on a corner of her desk. "Close the door," she told him coolly.

He got up, shut the door of her office.

"Now lock it," she said.

He did so, and walked back to her desk. She was fiddling with her mouse. "Sybil, hon, this is totally optional," he said.

She glared at him. She could feel her face burning.

"I thought it would be fun," he said. "It was a mistake. Please, forget about it.

She stood. "Come with me," she said, and led him over to a corner away from the door. She grabbed him by his necktie and shoved. Her force wasn't enough to budge him, but he cooperated, stepping back against the wall.

"Get on your knees," she demanded

He hesitated. They'd never so much as kissed at the office in all their years of various sorts of intimacy.

"Get on your fucking knees!" she whispered between clenched teeth.

He complied, somewhat awkwardly.

She hiked her skirt up, tugged her pantyhose and panties down her thighs, inverting them in the process, revealing thick brown curls, a little matted from the day's compression in her underwear. She pointed to the gusset, which was glistening wet in the fluorescent light of her office. "You see that?" she demanded.

He nodded.

"That's what your little 'mistake' has been doing to me, you distracting bastard. Now lick!" and she pulled his head hard against her groin, her fingers gripping his thinning hair. The pressure of his chin against her swollen lips made her clench her teeth, and as his tongue found her clit she took a great shuddering breath.

Finding the angle at which he could actually get her off with his mouth took a couple minutes of adjustment and negotiation. A couple minutes after that, she was gnawing on the knuckles of one hand, gasping for breath, while the other hand propped her up against a wall and she rode out a shuddering orgasm against his face.

He stood, his hair disheveled, his face shining. "God, baby—you are so hot! Feel how hard I am."

She kissed him gently on the cheek, patted his hair down into a semblance of order (too much would be as suspicious as too little on Stanley, she thought to herself), and twisted out of his arms. "I trust you," she said, bubbling with delicious schadenfraude at his discomfort. "You'd better get back to your department before you're missed."


Friday, they happened to meet in the lobby on their way out, and walked, largely silent, down to their bar. The bartender greeted them merrily as they came in. "Hey, Ted!" Sybil said, "Two teas, please." Ted cocked an eyebrow.

"Earl Grey for me. Stanley?"

"Um...English Breakfast," he said uncertainly.

When the bartender was out of earshot, he turned to Sybil. "Tea!?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "'Marry, sir, drink provokes the desire, but takes away the performance. Drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery. It makes him, and it mars him.'"

"Shakespeare?" he said. "I didn't know you'd been so disappointed with my performance in the past."

"You've been lovely, Stanley, but today you have to set an example. And you're not so young—"

"—As I once was, yeah," he grumbled, ripping open two packets of sugar and pouring them into his tea.


The worst part was between the arrival of the first and the second of Stanley's tutees. Jim Li was a little shorter than Stanley (who was none too tall), fine-featured. He shook Stanley's hand, turned to Sybil, looking for his cue: handshake? Hug? Kiss on the cheek? She put out her hand. His was hot, and a little damp.

They sat in Stanley's living room. Small talk was unbearable, and discussion of what was planned impossible. Any uncertainty Sybil had harbored as to whether the boys had been told about the agenda was dispelled by the way Jim was looking at her, with a stammering mixture of terror and hunger. His obvious nervousness had the odd effect of relaxing her a bit. She found herself watching the way his hands worked against each other, relishing, just a bit, the way his neck flushed when there were gaps in the conversation. Stanley, for his part, seemed infuriatingly relaxed, chuckling merrily at his own anecdotes of company politics.

Peter Snodgrass arrived, tall and a little gangly, his fine skin flushed already from his apparent rush up the stairwell. She felt a certain relief now that everyone was in place. If this was a lesson in how to please a woman, her task now was simply to relax and be pleased. Yeah, right—relax. There was a buzzing in her head, as she looked from boy to boy to man.

Stanley cleared his throat for silence, and got it instantly. "Well, boys," he said, "Ms. Winthrop has generously offered to help me explain a few things to you. "

Sybil cocked an eyebrow.

"Agreed to help me," Stanley calmly corrected himself. "Learning to please a woman is like learning a programming language.

Peter unsuccessfully tried to suppress a snort of laughter. "Well, it's not too similar," Stanley said, "Or I wouldn't have to tell you whiz kids shit."

And from there he launched into an extended comparison of the two learning processes. Stanley wasn't usually prone to pedantry, but the situation seemed to bring out the lecturer in him, and her attention drifted in and out of his soliloquy.

"You'll never get really good just by learning some particular technique. You've gotta learn how to think about it—to get past the details. But the only way to do that is to get good at the details first."

And later: "It's more a state of mind that's open to your own desires and those of your partner..." and more bromides, many true, all uselessly vague.

"Stan," Jim hesitantly interrupted him at last, "you told us this stuff before. Like a dozen times."

"Well, it's important," Stanley said.

"Hon, you've been lecturing the boys for fifteen minutes on how they should learn by doing," Sybil said.

Stanley grinned at her. "So you think maybe we should get started then?

"Um," Sybil said.

"C'mere, sweetheart."

She stood, on slightly shaking legs. He put one arm around her shoulders. "Now, Sybil here, like a lot of women, likes a guy who knows what he wants. That doesn't mean you should act like a jerk or a bully."

He turned to her and took off his wire-rimmed glasses. She felt his pale eyes fixed on her. His hand held the back of her neck, big, hot, strong. "Sybil, I want to kiss you," he said in a lowered tone.

It took her a moment to realize that some response was required. "Okay," she squeaked.

He took her by the waist and the back of her head, and kissed her hard; gripped her by the hair and pulled her head back to bite and nuzzle at her throat so she moaned and gasped. Then he propped her back up and took a step back. "Jim, you try."

The boy stepped forward, his hands clenching and unclenching. He smelled good. Hie dark eyes were about level with hers. She smiled warmly at him. Suddenly his arms darted out and he grabbed her waist.

"Firm doesn't mean hasty," Stanley scolded. "Try again."

Jim pulled his arms back, nodded, and took hold of her once more. He kissed her hard, his lips and tongue tight and palpably anxious, his skin hot and a little damp.

She ran the tips of her fingers through the close-cropped hair on the back of his neck and she felt his shoulders relax a bit, felt his kisses soften. She drew back an inch. "Kiss me for yourself, because you want to feel my lips," she whispered into his mouth, and brushed her lips against his, letting him feel the softness, the heat of her breath. He mirrored her motion. Her tongue darted out and flicked against his lower lip, and he made a little noise deep in his throat. "Yes, that's good," she purred into his mouth. A minute later, she knew he was hers. When he released her, she shook herself and grinned.

She turned to Peter. "Now you," she said, and glided up to him, sliding her hands up his chest, around his neck, pulling his face down to nip and suck at his mouth. When she had him whimpering and shuddering against her, she stepped back feeling energized, electric. "They pass," she announced to Stanley. "Next lesson."

"Er, right." he said. "Next. So. There's this cliché in porn, where there's the kissing, then the breast fondli—uh, Sybil?"

She had pressed herself up against his side, and was nuzzling his neck. "Mm hmm?" she said without pausing.

"Right. So there's this cliché. And often some sort of progression like that is appropriate—especially with a partner you don't know well yet. Certainly, moving too fast is usually a sign of—ouch! Sybil, you're biting!"

"Uh-huh," she sighed, squirming slightly against him.

"I'm trying to give a lesson here."

"In how to bore a girl to death?" she cooed.

"I'll ignore that." he said. "So some sort of progression is good, like I was saying before being interrupted, but if you get too rigid in your—Hey! Hey!" He swatted her hand away from, where it was running up the inside thigh of his slacks. "Too rigid in your habits, it can feel formulaic—you lose touch with, with..."

She'd untucked his v-neck sweater and ran a hand up inside. He fell silent as she wormed her fingers into an opening in his Oxford shirt. Her fingertips found a nipple and stroked as her teeth closed on his earlobe.

"Curriculum change," Stanley announced. "This hadn't been on the syllabus, but it turns out you guys aren't the only people here who need a little lesson today."

He grabbed Sybil around the waist, lifted her off her feet, and sat heavily on the sofa, pulling her across his lap. She barely had time to shriek in surprise before his arm locked around her waist.

She kicked and squirmed as he held her pinned. "Boys," he said, "Sybil and I have known each other for a long time. For chrissake, make absolutely sure about getting consent, okay? These days, there's enough girls out there who are genuinely hot to trot that there's no excuse for resorting to guesswork."

"Sybil, hon," he said, "I'm gonna spank your sweet ass now."

"About time, you teasing bastard," she spat back.

He swept her skirt up to her waist, exposing the red satin panties she'd selected that morning after much deliberation and hesitation.

"It is always a good time to tell a woman she's beautiful, boys," Stanley said. "And never more than when it's what you're actually thinking."

"Sybil," he said, "your ass knocks me out; I can not resist it. Better be careful now, hon, or you're gonna be showing off your goodies to these nice young boys," and before she could react, he jerked her underwear down to her knees. She whimpered at the humiliation and exposure. His hand caressed one broad, soft cheek, rose, then landed heavily with a loud CRACK.

"Harder?" she pleaded.

His hand fell again, and a red print began to bloom at once.

"Harder!" she demanded now.

Another blow, and she yelped and kicked, her ass rolling around in obscene display. "Yesss," she hissed.

More followed, hard and slow, giving her ample time to shake her hips, sob, whimper. To feel the heat bloom on her skin as the spanks rained down across her cheeks and thighs.

Stanley paused. "You like that, sweetheart?" he asked. She nodded shyly. Several more heavy blows followed, that had her chewing on her lower lip, pumping her hips helplessly. Then his palm was caressing the burning skin of her ass.

"Speak up, now," he prompted her. "You like that?"

"I—I like you spanking me," she gasped.

"Lets see how much. " He pushed her legs apart with one hand. She whimpered as cool air reached her damp genitals. She could imagine what the boys from the office must be seeing—her obscenely swollen, dark labia peeking from beneath the red-blotched cheeks of her ass. Stanley's hand rand down the crease between her thighs, and she shuddered uncontrollably. Delicately, his fingers spread her inner lips, making her squirm, desperate for more contact. She knew she was so wet that the glistening had to be visible behind her.

"Learning to be a good lover isn't just learning to give pleasure," Stanley said. "It's learning to take it, learning how to enjoy your lover's responses. I know you boys have been enjoying the sight of Sybil's sweet ass squirming around. Now come around and have a look at her face.

Sybil buried her face in the sofa cushions, embarrassed. She could only imagine how she must look by now—hair disheveled, face flushed, eyes shining and damp. Stanley's hand gripped her hair and pulled, hard. She gasped as her head was jerked back. Two rapt young faces met her sight. Stanley's other hand landed on her bare ass again, and she jerked and gasped. "Isn't that a pretty sight, boys?" he said.

Jim and Peter nodded with un-self-conscious delight.

Both the boys were obviously very erect. Peter was massaging his bulge unashamedly; Jim was clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides. A drop of pre-come darkened his pants at their apex.

Sybil scrambled out of Stanley's lap and sat up, kicking her panties off into a heap on the floor."Get'em out," she demanded. "I want to see those nice hard cocks."

The boys hesitated.

"Er... normally this wouldn't be recommended, " Stanley said. "Whippin' it out too early in the evening is, er, generally considered unwise. However, when the lady specifically demands it..."

Slowly the boys complied, each apparently anxious not to be the first to expose himself. Sybil watched hungrily as the knobs of their erections slid along the fabric of their pants before finally being revealed.

If it was a contest, Peter was the winner, his cock long, slender, and pink as a flamingo's neck. Jim's was exquisitely proportioned, dark-skinned, and rather shorter.

"Next lesson," she said, not taking her eyes off the boys' cocks.

"Okay," Stanley said agreeably. "Next we're gonna move on to some—"

"Oral sex." she interrupted him.

"Already?"

"Yes."

"Oral sex then. When you go down on—"

But Sybil was already on her knees in front of Stanley, She pushed his legs apart and buried her face in his crotch, nuzzling at the bulge in his slacks with her open mouth, blowing hot air through the weave of the fabric.

"Many women like to, um. Oh!"

Now she was gnawing at it through the fabric of his pants, massaging his balls with one hand, while the other cupped his ass, pulling his groin against her face.

"What Sybil's demonstrating here is a oh um..."

His zipper was down, his cock was out, she was sucking hungrily at the head while squeezing the shaft in her hand. She knelt back to admire her handiwork. Stanley's cock curved aggressively upward like a scimitar, bouncing a bit with his pulse. He seized the opportunity to unbuckle his belt, freeing himself for her to continue her sucking. But she had moved on.

After her aggressiveness with Stanley's cock, she decided to tease Peter a little. She took the shaft firmly in her fist, relishing its heat, feeling the throb through its considerable length. She traced the head over her lips, drinking in the smell of his cock, loving his hungry expression when she flickered her tongue over the tip. She heard motion behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stanley putting out condoms and bottles of lube.

She sucked fiercely at the head of Peter's cock for a moment, then began to bob on it. That long tool felt lovely against the back of her mouth, and she watched his face as he moaned and clenched his fists.

Someone was lifting her skirt. Stanley's knowing hand between her legs had her popping Peter's cock out of her mouth to drop her head and moan, continuing to jerk its saliva-smeared length in her fist. Thick fingers rubbed her clit for a moment, then found her slick opening and pushed inside. She wailed and went rigid.

She found enough self-control to get her mouth back onto the head of Peter's cock. His hand tentatively stroked her hair.

"That's good, Peter," said Stanley behind her. "Touching her head is okay. Never force the head of a woman who's blowing you unless she's specifically said it's okay. Plenty of women get off on it, but don't take chances—chicks who hate it, hate it a lot."

Sybil gulped for air through her nostrils as Stanley's stubby fingers found her G-spot and pressed.

She pulled her mouth off Peter's cock with a final pop, her fist still squeezing the base. "Get this boy a condom, Stan," she gasped. "I want to feel this thing in my cunt.

On her knees, she shuffled over to Jim, and took his cock in her hand, grinning up at him. "What a pretty cock!" she told him. He groaned loudly at the feel of her mouth. She liked that. His hands were twitching at his sides. "You can fuck my mouth," she said.

Jim looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Take my head in your hands," she told him patiently, "and use my mouth like you'd use a girl's cunt. If I tap your leg, let go immediately."

Hesitantly, he put a hand on the back of her head. She smiled encouragingly, then opened her mouth wide. He pushed her down until her lips met her knuckles, his hot cockhead a gentle pressure against the roof of her mouth. She sucked hungrily and squeezed her fist. His hand tightened in her hair. Soon, he was humping his hips vigorously while he held her head in place.

Then he seemed to remember himself, and pulled her mouth off his cock. "Was that okay?" he asked anxiously. Flushed, panting, she nodded.

"Cool!" he breathed, and, more roughly this time, pulled her back onto his cock.

"Okay, Pete," she heard Stanley say behind her. "Time for your pop quiz. Go get 'er!"

Fingers touched her labia, and she ground herself against them hungrily. They found her opening and she twitched against them, groaning around Jim's cock. Then the blunt head of Peter's prick was nudging its way incrementally into her cunt. With no patience for hesitation now, she impaled herself on it and groaned, her voice muffled by Jim's hard-on.

With effort, she pulled her mouth off Jim's cock to concentrate on being fucked for moment. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she urged Peter on with each vigorous thrust. His hips smacked audibly against the still-burning cheeks of her ass. His big hands tugged her blouse out of her skirt and gripped her bare waist. The zipper of Jim's jeans was cold against her cheek as she lapped at his shaft.

"Fuck, she's wet," Peter announced to no-one in particular. Jim pushed the head of his cock down to the level of Sybil's mouth and pulled her back onto it, muffling her cries at the vigorous fucking she was getting from behind.

Jim was the first to go, his fingers tightening in her hair, then his cock pulsing in her fist as he humped frantically against her face and cried out. A minute later, Peter was groaning too as he slammed against her.

Peter had barely stopped shuddering when she sprang to her feet and looked around for Stanley.

She found that he had takent the opportunity to undress. She drank in the sight of his powerful, compact body and grinned delightedly. "My, don't you loo—"

Then she interrupted herself: "Jesus Stanley, loose the damn black socks!"

"My feet get cold," he groused, but he sat to do so.

"Garbage can?" Peter interrupted, brandishing his used condom.

"'Round the corner," Stanley told him, gesturing impatiently, then turned his attention back to Sybil.

"I know how to warm you up, lover, " she purred, pushing her skirt down off her hips to puddle at her feet and unbuttoning her blouse.

Stanley was leaned back, stoking his cock and enjoying the show. "Keep going," he prompted her. The red satin bra came off and he groaned. "God, I love your tits," he murmured.

"What do you like about them," she asked, massaging the undersides as she glided towards him.

"All that gorgeous creamy flesh," he said. "Your big dark nipples. The sounds you make when I bite those sweet little nubs. The weight and sway when I smack them. The heat and softness when they're wrapped aro—"

She straddled him on the sofa and muffled his speech with her chest, grinding her breasts against his face. He didn't appear to be in any hurry to get away.

She reached over, taking the opportunity to press down on his erection, grabbed a condom, ripped it open with her teeth, and, finally sitting back, handed it to him.

"Make yourself useful, handsome," she said, and shifted her weight from side to side impatiently as he rolled it on. He seemed to have difficulty staying focused on the task, his eyes tracking her swaying breasts as he worked.

Finally, he was done and she sank onto him with a sigh. "Yeah, this is what I need," she breathed into his ear as she began to work her hips, grinding her pubic bone against his. He sank his fingers into the generous flesh of her ass as she set a brisk pace, grunting with each downstroke as his cock surged inside her.

"You liked watching me fuck your boys?" she asked him without slacking in her pace.

"Oh, yeah, Sybil," he groaned, "You looked so damn hot getting double-teamed like that."

"Wouldn't a double team be four guys?" Sybil mused. "Not that that couldn't be fun, too..."

Stanley gave her a sour look, and she laughed merrily. His eyes flew wide as her interior muscles pulsed on him with her laughter.

"You can make as many damn jokes as you like if you're gonna laugh like that afterwards," he said.

"Not if it's gonna put you on a hair trigger. I need you to have more stamina than those boys did."

"Shh, you're gonna hurt their feelings. Anyway, you've been spending too much time with old men like me. Guys that age can reload like that."

"Aren't you supposed to snap when you say 'that?'"

"I would, but it would involve taking a hand off this sweet, sweet ass."

"I suppose I can forgive you this time... say, do you suppose they're ready to join in yet?"

She craned her neck to see what Stanley's tutees were up to. They were naked. Peter was on his knees, his head between Jim's legs.

"Is there something yo forgot to tell me about your students?" Sybil said . Stanley shifted to see what she was talking about. Sybil didn't make it any easier for him, reluctant to relinquish her perch on top of him. Eventually, he shifted over enough to see what they were up to. Jim finally noticed the attention they were getting, and started guiltily.

"Bring that pretty cocksucking over here," Sybil called, beckoning. "I want to get a better look."

Peter stood, and they made their way bashfully over to the sofa.

"You boys an item and you didn't tell me?" Stanley chided gently.

"It's not like that," Peter insisted, staring at the carpet, "I just— Jim got another hard-on, watching you guys, and it just looked so.... and then he saw me looking at it, and so I asked if I could... and it... you know."

"Amazingly, I think I do." Sybil said. She stroked Jim's narrow chest, feeling his pounding heart, the fine sheen of sweat.. Her hand reached his groin, and she teased the tip of his cock, still damp with Peter's saliva. "His mouth feel good on you?" she prompted him.

"Oh wow, yeah." Jim admitted. "It was awesome."

"You want some more of this yummy cock," she urged Peter, squeezing it so that the head swelled and darkened in her hand."

"Yeah," he admitted, his eyes fixed on it.

"Go for it," she whispered.

When Peter's mouth closed on Jim's cock, she clamped down and Stanley groaned underneath her.

"Use your hand," she told Stanley. He reached between them, and his middle finger found the throbbing shaft of her clit and massaged it. She cried out, and immediately sped up her bouncing.

"Most women," Stanley said, "require some sort of mfff! Mff mff mff!"

Sybil's hand was sealed over his mouth. "Shut the fuck up you fucking motherfucker and fuck me," she demanded. His hand never paused in its motion.

Now it was a swift, steep slide. Her excitement built, her hips were working without any concious thought. She screamed and froze, shuddering, then screamed again, before slumping on top of Stanley.

"Don't you fucking stop," he growled in her ear, his hips jerking underneath her, his hands tugging urgently at her waist, "Don't you fucking stop."

"You want me on my back, baby?" she offered.

"Hell yeah," he said.

In a haze of well-being, she oozed off Stanley's rigid cock, off the sofa, onto the floor, where she spread her legs invitingly.

He was on her in an instant, and pounding away furiously. Back on the sofa, Jim was whimpering with pleasure, stroking his own nipples as Peter bobbed his head on his cock,

Stanley roared and pounded at her, jerking his hips in the familiar rhythm of his climax. A moment later, Jim cried out, and then Peter knelt up, flushed, wiping his lips.

Stanley's weight felt just right on top of her. "Down here, boys," she beckoned, and warmly kissed each one, as they joined her curled up on the carpet.

Stanley began to snore softly. She nudged him and he started awake. "Well," he said, "I think we all learned something today. Even I hadn't really—"

"Stanley," Sybil said menacingly, "if I hear one more homily out of you, you are having Lesson Two without me."

He opened his mouth for a retort.

"And possibly without a couple important anatomical features," she added.

He shut it again.

"So," Sybil said more brightly, "who's free next Friday?"

END
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