It was a hot summer afternoon, and Mr Roberts was bored. His leather armchair faced the window on the main high school route for all the college students. Occasionally, his voyeuristic nature got the better of him, and he would watch the girls saunter past the window. It always brought the worst out in him.

A light bulb moment made him smile, and within minutes, he had perfected the advertisement. It was simple. Effective. Large enough to be seen by those who wanted to see it and small enough to avoid the nasty glares of the busybodies of this world.

Sex education lessons - no charge.

His terraced house was on the main high school route, and he placed it in the window overnight and then sat back and waited patiently for someone to knock on the door and complain. He knew nothing would happen, if he were to be honest, and yet, his expectations were high, judging by some of the girls who frolicked past his window at four in the afternoon.

On the fourth day, there was a knock, and he turned his head toward the door in disbelief. He stood up with his mouth still open and walked down the hallway. He contemplated going into the front room to peer through the window, but then, that would end the surprise.

Melissa stood facing the door, intrigued. Not that she needed lessons, and with her butter-wouldn't-melt looks and skewed tie, she knocked on the door again. Biting her lower lip for effect.

Mr Roberts answered the door in shock. His eyes glowed wild when his gaze rested on Melissa's chest. He expected some do-gooder hell-bent on explaining to him the error of his ways.

"What's with the free lessons, mister?" She asked.

Mr Roberts smiled and took his time to explain that they may not be as boring as those that you get at school, and after listening for a whole minute, she pushed past him.

Mr Roberts smiled inwardly, puffed out his chest and followed her as she made her way inside.

He sat on the sofa. Melissa sat in the chair opposite.

"I'm not sure there's anything you could teach me," she said, leaning forward to emphasise her bulging chest. He had seen breasts like hers before, and it was something he never got tired of looking at. He tried not to stare, but it was fruitless.

Mr Roberts took the simple approach to her brattiness. "You'd be surprised, young Lady," he replied, "we all have something to learn."

The shaking of her shoulders didn’t seem to have any effect, and after staring at him for what seemed like ages, she stood up and walked over to the sofa. She hooked her short skirt up at the back and straddled his lap before sitting down. Her ample tits, inches from his face, pushed his head backwards. She started to unbutton her blouse from the top down, her mouth announcing the most wicked grin on the face of the Earth. Halfway through the buttons, she pulled the blouse free of her skirt, reached behind her with both hands, and unhooked her bra. Removing both of them over her head, she dropped them on the sofa to her side, placed her hand on the back of his head and pulled his face into her cleavage.

Mr Roberts moaned loudly. He let out a silent ‘fuck!’ He relished the soft flesh stroking his face, and before long, his hands came up on the side of her tits while his mouth sucked on her nipple. He bit it hard.

Melissa screeched and pulled back from his face.

"That will teach you to act like a slut," he told her.

"I'm not acting," she replied.

"Well then, in that case…"

Mr Roberts reached out to pinch both of her nipples, pulling her teats out towards him before letting them slip through his fingers. He repeated the action, both times making Melissa gasp out loud before her breasts wobbled back into their natural resting position, bouncing seductively before his eyes.

She could feel those tell-tale electric pulses shoot towards her groin. She felt her knickers dampen, and instantly, she knew that the lesson had started.

A hardness pulsed in her groin. Her eyes opened wide, and in that moment, Mr Roberts had pushed her to one side, knelt beside her, grabbed her hair and pulled it downwards so that the skin on the front of her neck was tight. Her eyes looked towards the ceiling. His spare hand found her crotch, and he pushed his fingers up into it, almost raising her from the sofa.

"Lesson one: Always be prepared for the unexpected."

Melissa swallowed hard, her eyes wide, her breathing erratic. His unconventional approach surprised her, scared her, and yet she never tried to counter his moves.

"Do you want lesson number two or would you like to leave?"

"Lesson two," she replied quickly and stubbornly.

Mr Roberts proceeded to march her up the stairs and into the bedroom. If only he could have seen the grin on her face or felt the heat in her body. Her pussy was on fire, her nipples hard as if they had been electrified. She felt as if she was on fire.

The following lessons didn’t last that long, thirty-five minutes at the most, not because they were over but because of circumstances.

She left the house with her body in a total mess. Her hair was sweaty and knotted, her mascara had run down her cheeks, and she half-heartedly tucked her shirt into her skirt. Her knickers were somewhere in the house, but she never had time to find them. The text message from her mother asking ‘why she wasn't home’ was enough to frighten her to death. She made her excuses and left. Fortunately for Melissa, she had been thoroughly fucked into five or more orgasms, was breathing heavily and hoped she'd recover by the time she got the third degree from her mother.

An hour later, she was knocking on Mr Roberts' door, her mother standing dutifully behind her, arms crossed, an angry face fuming after she made Melissa tell her why she was late home.

Mr Roberts was having an early evening meal when he answered the door.

He smiled when he saw Melissa, and was about to speak when he sobered up at the sight of her mother standing behind her.

Her furious face was something he didn't want to interact with, so he looked at Melissa. "Can I help you?"

"I've come for my tie..." she whispered.

"Don't be shy," shouted her mother, pushing Melissa off balance towards Mr Roberts.

"...and my knickers," she said in a more confident tone of voice.

Mr Roberts stood to one side to let Melissa into the house. She immediately ran upstairs. His eyes locked onto the face of her mother, and he knew he didn’t want to get into any kind of conversation.

Sandy Evans stared at Mr Roberts; her gaze shifted momentarily to the advert placed in his window.

"Do you think that's appropriate?" She asked.

Mr Roberts shrugged, but refused to get into a heated conversation on the street.

Melissa reappeared after a few minutes. She found her knickers at the foot of his bed. Her heart sank when she saw them ripped at the crotch, and she wondered how her mother would take the bad news. At least her tie was still in one piece, tied to the bedpost.

She stared at the bed, the post and her tie. Memories of the noise she made flooded her senses. She replayed the video in her mind. Being pushed on all fours, the tying up, his hand slapping her ass repeatedly until it stung and she cried, and the pounding she had taken from his rampant cock. All of them were lessons three, four and five, as he so calmly put it. Fuck knew what lesson six would be, but she had a good feeling about it. It never happened, though, the text message disturbed them.

She closed her eyes, desperate to get on all fours again and call down to him with the words, "I'm ready."

Instead, she gathered up her articles of clothing and scrambled down the stairs.

Her mother and Mr Roberts were staring each other out when she walked past them, like it was some Olympic competition.

"Home with you, I'll deal with you later," her mother told Melissa.

She returned her attention to Mr Roberts.

"So, fucking schoolgirls on their way home is your thing, eh? Think you can hide behind this fucking advert and your shit for brains, do you?"

Mr Roberts opened his mouth as if to reply, swallowed hard, but remained silent. He had decided to take the advert down the moment she'd leave to avoid any further conflict.

Sandy pushed past him and into his house. "We need to have a serious discussion about your actions, mister," she told him, shutting the door behind her.

"Look, I'm sorry, but your daughter is old enough to make her own decisions, and it was she who knocked on my door and inquired about..." he pointed at the advert in the window.

"And it was she that came onto me first, as it happens, and..."

Sandy pushed her finger onto his mouth to quieten the excuses.

"I know my daughter is a slut. I’m not here to make excuses for her, but that doesn’t excuse your actions.” Sandy left those words hovering between them. “Now, how about some adult lessons?” She said with a wicked smile on her face.

"Come on," she added, grabbing Mr Richards' hand and making a beeline for the stairs. She ran up them, and he walked. By the time Mr Roberts made it to the bedroom, Sandy was naked and waiting for him by the edge of the bed.

"I want what she got. It sounds thrilling, and I haven't been spanked in God knows how long."

Sandy moved towards Mr Roberts and started to undress him. First the shirt, then his trousers and pants. She let her hands circle his buttocks before squeezing them. Every inch of his skin thrilled her. She felt her pussy swell when her nipples brushed his arm, and she stared into his eyes the whole time her hands manipulated his manhood. Stroking it, tugging it, massaging the pre-cum over the shiny and bulbous head.

By the time she had sunk to her knees, his cock was rock hard. She engulfed it. Her lips accommodating its girth as she slipped her mouth over it. A finger found the entrance to his little hole, and she played with it, teasing him while she imagined his spunk shooting into her mouth.

It wasn't ever going to play out that way. Sandy was pulled upwards with a start. With his hands balled in her hair, he turned her towards the bed and pushed. Her body fell onto the bed, ass high in the air, hands outstretched as if bound. She almost let out a full-blown laugh and pushed her backside upwards.

The first slap was bliss. She moaned into the sheets, the same sheets that minutes before, her daughter had moaned into.

Subsequent slaps on her ass only made Sandy's pussy leak onto the bed. She closed her eyes while the spanking thrilled and excited her. She relished every playful slap, every hard spank, the heat coursing through her bottom, and unlike her daughter, she counted the spanks like a good little girl should. She felt wetness beneath her and could only surmise as to what made it that way.

Mr Roberts couldn't believe his luck. Sandy was the perfect submissive. Compliant in the extreme, loving everything that was done to her. He could tell that her only role in life, at that moment, was to please her man. And she was doing that with honours.

"Fuck!" Sandy cried out when two fingers slipped into her pussy. A thumb simultaneously made its way into her ass at the same time. Mr Roberts finger fucked her for a while, probing her insides, and Sandy was relishing it. He contemplated reaching under her to grasp her breasts, but decided that the best approach was to follow up with his cock.

He was spoilt for choice. Which hole? That was the question. He smiled at the thought of how wrong Shakespeare was. Which would she choose? Given that she was desperate for a spanking, he decided on the smaller of the two. The tighter, the more demeaning, the more thrilling of the two. Would that be the one she’d scream the house down for? It was the same hole her daughter never got the pleasure of. Not yet, anyway!

He dipped his cock into her pussy just to gather some lubrication; he never needed to. The push of his cock into her ass was frictionless. It slid in with no effort once the bulbous head was inside.

The fucking was just as rampant as when he fucked her daughter. Hard and fast strokes, her hair pooled in his hand. His action, pulling and arching her back into a wonderful curve, her fingers desperately clawing for purchase on the sheets below her. The heat of his cock inflamed her ass until she was boiling with excitement. Her ass slapped his thighs with every thrust, and her hands eventually left the bed as she struggled to reach for the headboard, but she gave up. It felt odd to be suspended by his grip on her hair, but she loved the feeling. She relished the deep strokes of man-cock inside her, loved the rampant fucking and waited for him to cum inside and then, with one last thrust, let her body fall to the bed.

Echoes of her daughter's cries filled the room once more, only these were more desperate, debased, needy as fuck. Her cries filled the void. No whimpering into the sheets for Sandy. No, Sandy was telling him exactly what she needed, and each verbal outburst seemed to cause her orgasms to flow like a river. One after the other, always on the cusp of a hard thrust into her ass with the corresponding pull back of her hair.

She needed it. It had been so long. Too long, in fact.

After Mr Roberts emptied his balls inside her, he let her crash towards the bed. Sweat rolled down his stomach. His cock sprang upwards as it left her ass, but deflated as soon as it was free of her tight restriction.

Sandy gasped into the bedclothes, fucked, spent, thoroughly used. Her body was still pulsing and throbbing from the successive orgasms that ripped through her. She eventually rolled over onto her back, looked up at Mr Roberts, scuttled to the edge of the bed, and sucked the remnants of spunk that clung to his dick.

She cleaned him like a good girl should before looking up into his eyes.

He could see she was pondering a serious question. "Did you fuck my daughter like that, too?"

Mr Roberts nodded.

Sandy giggled. "I'm going to have some serious words with her."

Mr Roberts nodded.

"And your name is?" She asked.

"Mathew, or Matt," he replied.

Sandy collapsed back onto the bed, spread-eagled in front of him. Her chest inflated and deflated like she was being resuscitated.

"Thank you, Matt. I needed all of that. Would it be possible to repeat this, like, regularly?"

He smiled and nodded. "I take it your daughter is off limits now?" He asked cautiously.

Sandy thought for a while. She pursed her lips, contemplating her response.

"As you said, she makes her own decisions, as long as she doesn't get more than me. I'm sure I could overlook her lateness, provided she brings all her clothes home with her."

Matt leaned over Sandy's body, pinched and lifted her from the bed by her nipples. Aided by Sandy's reluctance to allow her breasts to be torn from her body.

They both dressed.

At the door, Sandy turned to Matt. "You've not met Debbie Mathews yet?" She asked.

Matt shook his head. Sandy smiled and nodded. It wouldn't take long for Debbie to find this house and knock on the door, she thought. She was worse than Melissa, but then Sandy would be biased towards her daughter.

Matt closed the door and, in a state of disbelief at the last few hours, looked at his cold Cajun chicken dinner and smiled.

There was a knock on the door.

When he answered it, Sandy smiled at him. He thanked the heavens it wasn’t Debbie Mathews.

“You may like to remove that advert from your window. You seem to have had enough excitement for one day, maybe every day this week, and Debbie and two of her friends have just turned onto the street.”

Sandy smiled, winked, and left Matt to make his own decisions.