Bagging the Teacher

Vicky is at the mirror. She has a date. She brushes her teeth, checks her make-up and hair. She’s attractive and in good shape. All the time she is thinking about Max, wondering whether it’s a good idea to be going out with him for lunch. He’s the art teacher who runs the weekly life drawing class that she’s been attending for the past six months. He’s probably fifty. The last time Vicki went out with a man twenty years older, it was a complete disaster. But there’s something about Max she’s drawn to, though she has no idea what it is. Maybe it’s his thick, grey curly hair, or the old brown corduroy jacket he always wears, or the passionate sparkle in his eyes when he talks about art.

  

She’s on the way to the bar and she gets a message from her friend Emma, who also attends the art class, so she knows all about max.

‘Still think you’re crazy – but call me when it’s over. I want to know how it goes.’

Vicki arrives ten minutes late and Max greets her with a warm smile and compliments about how she looks. They have a drink and Max takes her to a restaurant for lunch. She finds they are able to talk easily about almost everything.  Later they move on to an exhibition at the Tate Modern and then back to his place.  Vicki is charmed by his bohemian house.  It’s full of books and plants and a grand piano, and every wall drips with paintings, sketches and black and white photographs.  

He cooks her a lovely meal and later they sit in his lounge, finishing a bottle of wine. He offers to take her home but Vicky wants to stay with him. They kiss and caress and in the end he leads her up to his bedroom. The room is messy. Piles of clothes and shoes and newspapers lie strewn about; clearly he didn’t plan on Vicky staying.  They undress slowly in front of each other. She notices that his body is in good shape, lean and well proportioned. They make love.  Max takes the lead, initiates everything. He’s gentle, patient, generous and passionate, everything that Vicky hoped for, but despite it all, she isn’t able to reach orgasm.

In the morning Max climbs out of bed promising to come back with a tray of coffee and croissants. Vicky smiles and watches him leave. She looks around the room. Despite the untidiness, she feels comfortable there. The walls are painted deep red and the furniture is black. Thick dark velvet curtains hang over a huge window, looking out onto a canal. She sinks back down into the bed, but when she slides her hand beneath a pillow to gather it under her head she feels something soft and shiny. She lifts the pillow to see what it is and discovers a neatly folded clear plastic bag.  She opens it up and stares at it, unable to work out why its there.

Max returns with a tray filled with breakfast things. She holds up the bag and says,

‘This was under your pillow..’

Max works hard to disguise his shock.

‘Oh. Er, well erm, it’s just a laundry bag. The washing machine packed up for a while ago and I er, used them to cart my laundry to the laundrette round the corner. Not sure why one ended up there. I must be going a bit bonkers.’ 

He takes the bag and then stuffs it away in a drawer.

They have their breakfast in bed, but now the conversation isn’t flowing so easily. Vicky looks at her watch.

‘I need to go, I’m afraid.’

‘OK..’

The conversation now is fractured, punctuated by long silences, as Vicki eats the croissants, dresses, finishes her coffee. He drives her to the tube station.

The goodbyes are polite.

2

‘I bet you he’s a pervert, a sexual deviant.’ says Emma as she places a mug of tea in front of Vicky later that day.

‘Do you think so?’

‘Yep. There’s no other explanation. If he was as embarrassed as you say when you confronted him, then it’s obvious. He puts plastic bags over his head when he wanks and it gives him better orgasms. There are guys who do that kind of thing. You should be very wary of him. I wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole.’

Vicki picks up a chocolate biscuit and shrugs her shoulders. Emma continues,

 ‘You know, I suspected he was a bit strange…’

Vicki looks up smiling. ‘You said you liked him.’

‘Did I?’

Vicky spends the entire evening on line, finding out about auto-asphyxiation.

She knows nothing about this sexual deviation at the beginning of the evening but by one am, when she finally goes to bed, she’s quite the expert. She reads articles and watches graphic videos of men suffocating themselves with plastic bags. For most of the evening she is horrified and repulsed and can hardly bear to watch, but then she comes across a video that transfixes her, all the way to the end. In it, a young woman with short blond hair sits naked on a bed and looks straight at the camera, then picks up a clear plastic bag and pulls it over her head and seals it tight with an elastic band around her neck. As she breathes in the bag contracts till it sticks tight to her face.  The young woman appears to be smiling. Then she breathes out and the bag fills out like a balloon. She starts to touch herself, first caressing her breasts and then slowly sliding her hands down between her legs. She starts to masturbate, slowly and gently. She arches her back and her breathing becomes faster. She begins to moan, all the time staring at the camera. Then after several minutes her body starts to shake. Finally she pulls of the bag, gasps out loud and falls back on the bed. She continues to masturbate and then moments later gives out a loud, long moan of ecstatic pleasure.

Vicky watches the video again. That night she cannot sleep. The following day at work she cannot concentrate. She thinks about Max. Is he really into this kind of stuff? That evening she decides to find out more about him. She puts his name Max Schelling into a search engine and finds a site containing images submitted by photographers and on it Max has posted several of his own. They are all fabulous but there’s one that stands out.  It’s an image of a tall black naked woman wearing nothing but a long clear plastic coat. This, she decides is proof that the man has a thing about plastic.

The next day she is out shopping and she finds herself noticing plastic bags everywhere. Plastic shopping bags, plastic wrap around the meat in the supermarket, a woman passing by with a black shiny pvc hat…

Three days later she’s back at the life drawing class. 

‘Hello Vicky. How are you?’ says Max when she enters the room.

‘I’m fine. How are you?’ she replies.

‘Good, good….’ He seems a little nervous. She decides to place herself at the back of the class behind the rest of the group. Tonight there’s a new model, a voluptuous and beautiful woman with long blond hair.

Max begins the class as he always does, with a chat to the group, offering tips about shading and perspective and when he is finished, the group begin their drawings. Vicky watches him as he wanders around the group, making suggestions, and offering encouragement. He passes behind her but she hasn’t started yet, so he moves on to someone else. She turns to the model, picks up her charcoal stick and begins to sketch.  After a while, she finds herself engrossed in her drawing. Despite attending the class for almost a year, she’s convinced herself that she’s the worst in the group. But this time she is pleasantly surprised at what she has drawn so far. This time she has the perspective right and the image on her drawing pad starts to look impressive. For a while she forgets about Max and focuses on filling in the detail. Everything seems to go well. After twenty minutes she is delighted with what she had done. She’s even captured the expression of the model’s face. It’s the best drawing she’s ever done. She stops. She puts the charcoal down. She doesn’t want to do any more in case she messes it all up. She looks around and clocks Max on the other side of the room. Max the pervert, she thinks. She watches him. He is slowly making his way towards her, along the line of students.

She thinks for a moment and then she picks up her charcoal. She draws a plastic bag as best she can, tied over the model’s face. Then she puts the charcoal down and with her thumb she smudges out the features of the face. To her amazement, the smudges look like the creases in the bag. 

Max gets ever nearer. She starts to get nervous. She thinks about hiding the drawing from him, but then it’s too late. Max steps over and stands beside her to examine her work. She doesn’t look at him and says nothing. She folds her arms and waits for his reaction. She feels him standing close to her. She waits. He says nothing. He walks on. He steps over to someone else and begins to discuss their work. Vicky’s heart is beating fast. She feels a fool.

She wants to run out of the class.

When the class ends she decides instead to hang back. She pretends to be looking for her phone until the rest of the students have left. Max is at the front of the class, folding away the velvet material that had been draped over the model’s chair. She walks over to him. He looks up. He looks embarrassed. She manages a smile. But then just as she is leaving he says,

‘Vicki… I was wondering if you might like to come over one night this week for a meal.’

Vicki freezes for a moment, unsure what to say. Then she smiles and nods.

‘I’d love to. Thursday?’

She arrives with a bottle of her favourite red wine.  It took a while to find the perfect plastic carrier bag to put it in.  This one is pink and shiny.  She leaves it on the kitchen table and they chat in the kitchen as he cooks.  She watches him take the wine out of the bag innocently enough.  Later, as they sit drinking coffee in his lounge, he tells her how wonderful their lovemaking was the last time. She smiles, looks down, says nothing. He leans forward, puts his arm around her shoulder and gently whispers in her ear.

‘How about….if I go upstairs…. I get undressed and lie on the bed. I cuff my hands and feet. Give me twenty minutes to prepare, then come up to my bedroom. I’ll cover my eyes, so you don’t even have to think about me watching you. Then you can decide. You can explore my body. You can use it to masturbate with. You can fuck me. Or you can leave me there, tied up and horny. It’s up to you.’

Vicki agrees. He leaves the room. Twenty minutes later she picks up a bottle of brandy and a glass on the coffee table and goes upstairs.

The door to his bedroom is slightly ajar. She peers through the gap and sees candles around the room. He’s lying naked on his bed face up. His hands are cuffed behind his head, around the steel bars of the headboard. His feet are also cuffed. He’s tied a black silk scarf around his head to cover his eyes.

She pushes the door open and it squeaks.  She notices his cock moving slowly upwards and erect. She walks slowly around the bed. She sits in a chair by the wall and pours herself a drink.  She studies his body. She feels alive, nervous, aroused.  She drinks. She thinks. She opens her legs and brushes her fingers gently over her vagina. She takes off her shoes, unbuttons her blouse, stands up, slips her skirt down and then takes off her bra. She slips out from her stockings. She goes over to the bed and sits on the edge. She studies his body, the hairs on his legs, the veins along his arms. She strokes his chest. He flinches, then relaxes. She hears a gentle sigh.

She lets her fingers meander over his body, down over his stomach until they reach the base of his cock. She likes the shape of it. It’s long and fat, with a huge elegant head. She strokes the tip. His cock quivers. She grasps the shaft and feels the thick hard muscle in her hand.

She climbs onto the bed and astride him. She rubs her clit along the shaft of his cock, gently backwards and forwards. She closes her eyes. It feels very nice.

It takes time but she becomes very aroused. She moans. Her cunt is wet. Up and down she slides along his cock, pushing into it and feeling the thick wet muscle against her clit. And then she is coming. She gasps, she shakes, she gives out a whimper and then a loud scream and then she comes. As she comes she feels his hot spunk splashing up against her belly and her breasts. She collapses over him, breathless and hot.

She climbs off the bed and sits back down in the chair. Her body still tingles. She pours herself another drink.

A minute later she sees his cock rise again. She watches it, growing larger and more erect.  She climbs on the bed again. She licks her forefinger and then slides it hard over her clit and into her vagina. She grabs his dick and eases it inside her very slowly. She pushes down, savouring the sensation of it slipping further up inside her. It feels so good. She pushes down till she can take no more. She squeezes down, then lifts her pelvis. She starts to ride him again, fucking him harder with each downward thrust. She groans, she closes her eyes again, lost in ecstasy and pleasure. She comes again.

Finally she pulls herself way, and feels his spunk spilling out from inside her.

She wipes it off with a towel and sits back in the chair. She drinks another brandy. The room is hot. She is sweating but she doesn’t care. She feels overjoyed, liberated and there’s a smile on her face.

She stares over at him lying still on the bed. She watches his cock. She wants more. She wants to fuck him again. She waits. She has another drink. She goes downstairs to fetch her cigarettes.  She sees the pink plastic bag on the kitchen table. She picks it up and takes it up to the bedroom. She goes back to the chair and sits. She lights a cigarette, pours herself more wine, and all the time she is watching his body. She waits, but his cock is still shrunken and idle.

She finishes the cigarette, picks up her stockings and the plastic bag and goes over to the bed.

She kneels astride his legs. She looks down at his face, his mouth open, the beads of sweat on his brow.  She opens up the pink bag and pulls it down over his head.  She uses the stockings to seal the pink plastic bag round his neck, just like the woman in the video. She watches the bag expand and then when he sucks in all the air inside she sees the plastic tight against his face, tight over his open mouth, just like the video. She glances down at his cock and it is growing again. She smiles. She watches it expand and grow till once again it is huge and stiff and erect.  She slides her body up, till the thick cock touches her dripping cunt.  She moves her body till the bulging helmet slides effortlessly inside her. She presses down hard. She moans. She places her hands around his neck and starts to ride his cock.

And then….

Well, eventually she comes again, gasping breathlessly with pleasure, watching the bag expanding and contracting, feeling his body twisting and writhing helplessly between her thighs. And he comes too, she can feel it, the warm wet spray inside her. And when it’s over she rips the bag off and collapses again on top of him, her hair falling over his face.        

The following morning, while Max is downstairs cooking eggs and bacon, she picks up her phone and sends a quick message to Emma.

‘Another great night with Max. He’s weird. But fuck it, he’s a good man and I’m having fun.  xxx Vicky.’

Daniel Guy