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As it was, it was neither of those men who had me next. That was left to a muscular Malay field worker among the rubber trees. I rode out into the fields one day on a horse, unable to take the sexual tension at the main house any more—and, I admit—randy as I could be. At the edge of a field, by a water canal lined with ferns and tropical trees, I came upon a strong-looking Malay man fucking a boy of my age. The man wasn’t young, but he was strong, muscular, and virile.I didn’t retreat from the scene. I came off my horse and stood there, watching, one of my hands going to my crotch, unbuttoning myself, releasing my peter, and relieving my tension with my hand. The worker, who appeared to be in his forties but magnificent of hard-worked body, knew I was watching. Still, he took his time with the boy. He seemed, though, to have changed what he was doing. He no longer was working on his own release, just that of the boy. I wondered why this was so, until I saw that he kept looking at me. She remained in awe of her and, bearing in mind she fully intended getting higher marks so that she could get to the University of her choice, it would be an excellent bonus to be given those extra strokes of the cane for getting those higher marks she wanted. Emma happily said, “Agreed, Miss Jackson.”Miss Jackson smiled knowing she was going to have so many orgasms herself after caning Emma. “Good, that is settled then.” After a moment, and seeing the time, she said a stern, “You had better get back to your classroom as lunch is almost over.”Five minutes later, Miss Foster came back from her lunch break. She had seen Emma outside and therefore knew that Miss Jackson was alone, and so, without knocking, she entered the study and saw the suddenly contrite look on Miss Jackson‘s face. Miss Foster was sixty-years-old and wearing a short-sleeved white blouse and dark blue skirt, with dark blue tights.Miss Foster ordered, “Get up, Jackson, and stand in front of your desk.“ Things were.
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