Lessons in Psychology – Fetish

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It doesn’t say so on the brochure, but my university seems to have a penchant for hiring really hot teachers. There is Mr. Hitchens, the Latin teacher. Most of the girls are turned off by his beard, but I enjoyed it. I love a good beard. All my boyfriends had beards. Bearded for my pleasure, I like to joke. Of course, this was not the case with Mr. Hitchens. I mean, he was my teacher. And yet when my roommate was gone, I whispered his name as I played with my clit. I wanted him to view me as sophisticated, and womanly. Not just another one of his students with a crush.

Then there was Mr. Kendell. I loved his class: psychology. I had studied psychology before and yet still found myself learning lots. The only thing I took problem with were some of his “classroom policies”. Today, Tuesday January 10th, I was mad at his stupid bathroom policy. During tests, we were not allowed to use the bathroom at all. Now, I find out why this makes sense. Otherwise, people would be cheating right and left. But the stupid part is that we aren’t allowed to use the bathroom even after we finish the test! What is the point of that? And the thing is I like Mr. Kendell. He’s young, attractive (even though he is clean shaven) and sarcastic.

So there I was clenching my thighs together, trying not to listen to the sound of rain outside or think of the extra-large coffee I had consumed prior to class. Well, that had been idiotic. No matter. I was 24. I could hold it a few minutes longer. The bell rang and students groaned as they hastily scribbled B.S. answers to the last few test questions. I was halfway out the door when I heard Mr. Kendell calling my name.

“Ariel! Come here please,” he requested. I debated ditching him (the situation was really dire here) but he was holding my exam in his hands. I walked slowly over, still trying to keep my thighs clenched.

“I noticed you seemed a little distracted during the test. Everything all right?” God, he was handsome. He had sparkling green eyes and a hint of a smile. As though he knew. How could he know? I couldn’t help his chiseled chest beneath his shirt.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. I was almost doing the potty dance in front of him, hopping from foot too foot. My jeans were massaging my clit which was aching for some reason. Why?

“Are you sure? Nothing troubling you? I could arrange for you to see one of the school counselors?” he offered. Again, that ghost of a smile. Like he was getting something from my desperation. Was I that transparent?

“No, sir. I’m fine,” I promised.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said, sounding disappointed. Weirdo.

I practically ran down the hallway, mowing down two freshmen. There was a bathroom at the bottom of the stairs by the teachers’ offices. I was almost all the way down the stairs when my foot caught in the leg of my pants and I felt myself falling forward. Falling, falling.

“Easy there,” Mr. Hitchens had been standing at the bottom of the stairs and took me like a graceful linebacker. It would have been such a romantic moment. If I hadn’t wet my pants.

“Oh my God,” I said as Mr. Hitchens set me on my feet. I met his eyes with mounting horror. He was staring at me with something like curiosity. I heard some snickers and realized it was the same freshmen I had almost knocked down. They had their phones out, trained on me. Icing on the cake was that Mr. Hitchens was there to witness my complete humiliation.

“Hey,” he spoke sharply to the freshmen, who were startled, “Get to class,” They booked it. He wasn’t messing around. But when he turned to me, his voice was gentle.

“Come with me to my office, Ariel. It’s right over here. I have something you can change into,” and he led me to one of the corner offices which, mercifully, was empty.

He began to rummage in his desk. I stood there, trying not to cry. My pants had a big dark stain on it. I felt like such a baby. And then Mr. Hitchens turned to me and handed me something big, white and bulky. No. No way.

“Is that….?”

“Of course. That’s what you need right? A diaper?” He smiled at me, almost mischievously. My clit was very insistent and I felt a new gush of wetness between my legs. If anyone ever found out…

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not going to wear a diaper” I said, trying to make it sound like this conversation was at all ordinary.

“Of course, you are. That’s what girls who wet themselves wear. You couldn’t control your bladder, you wear a diaper. And I’d be happy to help you into it,” he offered, walking toward me. I stepped backwards and almost tripped over a box. He steadied me.

“See. You can barely walk,” he spoke softly. His voice was husky. He was getting something out of this, I realized. He wanted to see me in a diaper. He leaned in closer and I realized he was about to kiss me. I froze….and the door opened.

It was Mr. Kendell and he started laughing when he saw us there like that. Long piss streaks down my pants. Mr. Hitchens looked annoyed when Mr. Kendell came in and closed the door, locking it behind him.

“What happened to you, Ariel?” he asked, jovially.

“This little baby wet her panties,” Mr. Hitchens said. His smile was back, “And I’m going to dia-” he made a move to push me back onto the crowded couch but I tried to squirm away at the same time. Mr. Hitchens sighed regretfully.

“I’m sorry, Ariel. I need to discipline you,”

“No!” I said, thinking of my beloved 4.0. With one swift movement, he had me over his knee and my pants and panties around my ankles. My bare ass was facing Mr. Kendell who stared at it before running his hand over my bare flesh. I shivered. And then Mr. Hitchens began to spank me.

SWAT! Ow! This guy did not fool around!

SWAT! Every time he hit me Mr. Kendell would run his hand over the red skin, muttering soothing words. Something very confusing was happening to me. I was becoming sticky between my legs. I was 24, I knew what that meant, I just didn’t know why it was happening in this very humiliating and juvenile position. I should be crying. Instead, I was shaking with arousal. Finally, Mr. Hitchens seemed to suspect something.

“Ariel, is there something you want? Something you desire?”

“A pair of pants,” I wailed.

SWAT!

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” simpered Mr. Kendell and he slipped his fingers between my pussy lips. My wetness was so loud all of us could hear it. Mr. Hitchens moaned slightly and when he shifted, I could feel him hard-on against my leg.

“Ariel is my favorite student. She never disappoints,” Mr. Kendell said, slipping one finger inside me.

“What a coincidence. She’s my favorite student too,” Mr. Hitchens said and began to softly kiss my neck. What a sensation. Meanwhile, Mr. Kendell’s fingers were now soaked with my juices. He drifted them lazily across my body and then pressed them gently against the entrance to my anus.

I tensed. Nothing (except my fingers and that was a secret) had ever been in there before.

Relax. He won’t hurt you. He’s just getting you ready,” said Mr. Hitchens soothingly. Ready?

“Besides, she’s fingered her ass before,” Mr. Kendell said.

“How do you know?” I asked, slightly angry. How dare they assume?

“I didn’t….until now,” he said laughing. I was mortified. Then Mr. Kendell got on his knees and spread my cheeks. I was immediately self-conscious. What if I smelled bad? What if I did a bad job wiping? Then he lowered his lips and starting my ass. I stopped feeling self-conscious and began to enjoy it, writhing over Mr. Hitchens lap. He began to unzip his pants and pushed my head onto his cock.

I sucked Mr. Hitchens’s cock for all I was worth. I spit on it, gagged on it, choked on it, hit myself with it. Mr. Hitchens growled.

“Okay, she’s ready,” said Mr. Kendell. Both men helped me to my feet. I was trembling furiously. Mr. Hitchens helped me step out of my pants and panties so I was naked waist down except my shoes. Then Mr. Hitchens fumbled with a condom and finally pressed his cock to the entrance of my wet pussy. He entered me in one swift movement, and I fought not to cum immediately. There was more to enjoy.

Mr. Kendell had to be more gradual. He spit on his hand, using it and my arousal, as lube as he eased slowly into my ass. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, holy fuck. But then he started moving. Still slowly. But being filled in both ends was a sensation like no other. I loved it. Mr. Hitchens came first. Viciously, uncontrollably. He dug his nails into my shoulders which distracted from the pain in my ass. Mr. Kendell came second. He pulled out and came all over my ass. Finally, exhausted from being used as their dirty little toy, I came almost crumbling to the floor, but Mr. Hitchens was there to save me yet again.

The three of us stood there, panting. There was no need for words. It had been an amazing experience for all of us. I glanced, doubtfully, at the diaper, now lying on the couch. Maybe- no it couldn’t be- but maybe, wearing a diaper wouldn’t be so bad after all.

To be continued………

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