The first portion of this story was previously published as part of Total Woman Trainers Ch. 06. I have republished it here with some changes and continued into an expanded story. Please vote, comment, and enjoy.
** Abby Johannsen 01
Ned, the Total Woman Academy Coach Tutor Emeritus, looked out the window of the G280 Gulfstream as the gaps in the billowy clouds peeked through with vistas of the passing ground below. He had just completed a multiday transfer recruitment and a special coed evaluation assessment last week.
Though Ned was still in good shape for a middle-aged man, the younger Coach Tutors were more adept at a typically packed schedule of Evaluation Assessments and he had scheduled himself for a holiday break to recuperate from his professional burdens. But right on the heels of the last round of assignments, TWA Headquarters had decided Ned was the perfect man for this imminent series of engagements.
It was the organization's endless ordeal to solicit sufficient numbers of fine young ladies for Total Woman Academy Scholarships. Most coed recruitments arose from covert referrals by former graduates and current Pledge Contributors. But to supplement that substantial, though insufficient pipeline, TWA Recruitment contingents trolled college campuses, modeling agencies, and cheerleader summer camps for external aspirants.
After applicant candidate background checks, the affirmatively graded ladies were rostered for additional culling.
Confidential preliminary briefings divulged vague details of the curriculum, the residential campus roles and rules, and the incomparable merits of graduation. The final roster of selectees was then assigned to Coach Tutors for pre-enrollment evaluation assessments. If those were successful, then complete program details and enrollment itineraries were shared.
The flight deck cabin door was open and Ned could see Krystal, his dedicated Pilot and Recruitment Tour Coordinator, studying the horizon and her flight instruments. This was her annually scheduled time to fulfill her post-graduate month of service to the TWA Scholarship Fund.
Her long blonde hair was captured like a headband under the yoke of the flight headphones. He overheard Krystal's call to the control tower requesting landing permission and instructions.
"Van Nuys Control, this is TWA 001 requesting a vector for landing."
"TWA 001, proceed to the outer marker for Runway 34, winds from the northeast at 15 MPH, you are cleared as next in line. Happy Landings, Lil Miss Sunshine."
Krystal smirked at the chummy chatter. The lilt of her voice seemed to bring out the sass in the small airports' air controllers. She keyed the jet's internal intercom.
"Six minutes to touchdown, sir. Please buckle in."
Ned fixed his seatbelt and watched the ground rise up closer and closer. The concrete runway appeared beneath his view, the wheels bumped down, and the plane shuddered as Krystal reversed engine thrust. They slowed and taxied to the private jet terminal.
She shut down the engines of TWA's private aircraft, trotted down the foldout stairs, and gave directions to the ground crew to have the jet fueled and ready for takeoff tomorrow. She focused again on her VIP passenger.
Krystal escorted Ned to the black town car waiting on the apron, opened the rear door, and seated her alpha male charge inside. She took the wheel and drove them from the airport, down I-405 to Santa Monica, turned north on the Pacific Coast Highway, and ended their 30-minute ground trip at Malibu.
Pulling into their beachfront rental bungalow's driveway, Krystal carted their luggage inside and they changed to swimwear for Ned's first scheduled appointment, a meeting on the adjacent topless beach.
The pair strode across the bungalow's beachside entrance patio, shielding their eyes with flat palms as they surveyed the expanse of nudist beach speckled with tanning female flesh, searching for the blonde they were there for Ned to meet.
Krystal scanned the long surf-lapped sand and pointed out a topless sun-worshipper standing at mid-distance.
Ned looked where his Coordinator pointed.
A tall, tanned, athletic built female, her waist-length blonde hair fluttering in the sea breeze, was scanning beyond the sunbathing crowd. She also seemed to be looking for her party at this meeting's appointed time.
Ned turned his head back from the nude cornucopia of flesh distributed on the beach towels. He surveyed his bikini-clad combination pilot, chauffeur, and coordinator.
"Damn, girl. You're positively overdressed!"
Ned swiftly pulled the center front tie and removed the congenial Krystal's bandeau bikini top. He nodded admiringly at her generous tits. She playfully flexed her back, giving a tit waggling shimmy to give him a frisky show. He tossed the top aside on the sand; it was now superfluous for their day at the nude beach.
"Much better" he laughed, patting her thong exposed ass cheeks. She smiled at his repartee and marched toward the shore and their rendezvous with the waiting blonde.
Both strolled inconspicuously through the half-naked lounging bodies to Abby, who was waiting at her oversized beach towel laid out on the sand. Ned plopped down at her side for a nonchalant rapport building chat.
Krystal kept an alert watch for nosy neighbors while the pair got to know each other. Several muscle beach bodies scanned her direction as they passed by and she was sure they made eye contact with her. 'Check that out later' she thought.
Ned queried Abby about her life story, why she was here with him now, and let her confirm in her own words what he had reviewed in her scholarship application and background check summary.
Abby hailed from Minnesota, fourth-generation Swedish heritage, the youngest of four sisters. Her older siblings had married young and birthed a brood of children.
Her father owned a successful machine parts manufacturing conglomerate, traveled alone frequently for weekend meetings and conferences, but over the last year, he had invited Abby to tag along on several marketing trips to Florida and California. She fell in love with sand and sea, with its everyday sunshine.
She met several of her father's tycoon business associates in social settings. Some were overly attentive, indelicately remarking on her physical comeliness, even while chaperoned by their own stunning young eye candy.
Growing ambivalent about her higher education choices in the Great Northern snowfields, when approached by a boutique modeling agency, Abby fled the cold winters and foreseeable motherhood in Minnesota to the sunny shores of California.
After stagnating a few months at waitressing, modeling, and being a stand-in extra for advertising shoots, her agent favored an alternate path to success through an elite academy scholarship.
When she asked her father's advice, his voice boomed through the phone line.
"Go For It!"
She was secretly vetted by TWA Recruitment and vaguely briefed on the beauty, intelligence, and poise curriculum and its enrollment prerequisites, including today's Evaluation Assessment by an Academy recruiting representative.
Ned had reviewed her file and knew her physical particulars, but he wanted to gauge her candor for sharing her personal, especially intimate, details with a new male acquaintance similar in age and attitude to her father's over-friendly middle-aged business associates.
So he nudged the conversation to questions regarding Abby's sexuality,
He noted she exhibited no piercings or tattoos, indicating a wholesome attitude about her body. She volunteered her newfound love of healthy habits, a low-carb low-fat diet, Yoga, fresh air, and lots of sunshine.
Ned queried her on her weight and height. Average for her top-heavy tallness.
"Is your public hair shaved, trimmed, or fuzzy?"
"Shaved for cleanliness."
"What are your favorite erogenous zones?"
"Pussy, nipples, behind my knees, and my neck just below my ears."
"Do you orgasm easily?"
"Generally, but it depends on how much I like the man."
"We'll work on expanding that feature."
"Can you hold back or speed up your orgasm timing and control."
"I usually let nature take its course."
"We'll work on improving that, too."
"Nice boobs. What size?"
"Natural or implants?"
She tilted her head back with pride.
"I'm a naturalist. They're real."
"Really? Let me see for myself."
He reached out and cupped each boob, squeezing firmly to confirm her claim of natural.
"How many past boyfriends?"
"Was the sex mutually enjoyable?"
"What was your age when you lost your virginity?"
"Did you have any blowjob or handjob experience prior to that?"
"Maybe a few."
"How about deepthroat?"
"Managed it once."
"Do you swallow?"
"I do when I have to."
She confessed to a series of inadequate boyfriends; after finding them unsophisticated about her emotional and physical sexual satisfaction. Some even cried when she dumped them. That's why, when TWA Recruitment had promised her access to an intimate network of many powerful alpha males, she had agreed to apply for the scholarship.
"I'm still amazed by my singular stroke of luck."
Ned knew that with Abby's sexual allure, her poise curriculum would be lots of strokes of lust instead of a singular stroke of luck. He assured her that, if recommended, she would find that intimate network very deep and very satisfying for many years to come.
Ned and Abby left in the late afternoon, walking hand in hand to the beach bungalow where she had been staying since yesterday, awaiting the interviewer. Krystal hung back at the beach to give them privacy. It also gave her time to browse the beach hunks.
It was time for Abby's afternoon yoga practice and Ned agreed to join her on the living room foam mats, feeling the need for muscle and libido stress relief built up by the travel and Abby's tantalizing presence.
Toned, flexible Abby led Ned through a full body yoga stretch routine.
She steered him through standing, inverted, and seated stances. Her twisting naked body gave him multiple angled views of her exquisite physique. She touched him often during the hour, correcting his form, finally laying her bare breasts and body weight against his back when he needed help reaching his toes during the final seated forward fold.
Ned felt light-headed from the strain of the body contortions and his growing genital pressure. Abby let him ease up a little from the forward fold. Her fingers gripped his ankles and bent his legs into a Lotus pose with the soles of his feet placed together inches in front of his ball sack.
Her fingertips tickled his inner thighs as she walked her digits up to his genitals. One hand cupped his sac, the other lifted into a slow stroke on his cock, bringing life and hardness to his manhood. Soon he was erect, just the way she wanted him.
She slithered around him; her legs hugged his waist, her arms circled his neck, leaning her weight away to keep him seated upright. She settled her groin against his, with her ankles crossed behind his back. It was a lap mounted match to his Lotus pose.
She threw her hair back, unhampering his contact with her bare breasts. She hugged his body and nuzzled a kiss. His arms circled around her, loosely hugging her body beneath the long blonde hair fall. Her stiff nipples brushed his chest.
She lifted her hips and melted her hot wet pussy down over his erection. He moaned under her hair, his lips suckling her neck just below her ears.
She took control of the strokes, her lithe Yoga-toned strength driving her body movements, sliding up and down his shaft. She knew how to do fluid ass rolls at the bottom that dragged his deeply buried coronal nook against her quivering inner membranes as she drew back up his shaft.
He was immersed in her erotic plan. He smelled her presence, the green botanical aroma of her hair softener, and the coconut oils in her sunscreen. Her hard nipples tickled his chest. He closed his eyes and his mind emptied of all worldly cares, focused solely on the sensations. He felt tingles building in his cock and balls.
She never let up and he soon discharged his body aches and his teeming sperm into her comforting body and soul. Abby had soothed his sexual anguish with her mind dimming tantric fuck.
She held him in but stretched out her legs behind him, bracing her feet wide to stabilize their seated stance. Her lips pecked his forehead, his nose, and moved to his ear. Her whisper barely registered.
"Can you hear me, my darling? Are you back in our waking world?"
He groggily mumbled his response. She stayed in the genital connection until she felt his erection soften and fall out. She laid him in post Yoga savanna nana pose, a camphor-scented cloth over his face as he rested and recovered.
Remaining nude, she prepared her culinary specialty, a healthy seaweed salad with poached white fish. She served it as a candlelit dinner, shared naked and ending with a sugarless orange and lime sorbet.
During the light post-orgasmic conversation, Abby juxtaposed their sensational tantric fuck to the quickies and banal rutting of the studio producers whose empty promises she had succumbed to. They never offered her substantial roles in the industry. She felt passed around, used. She wanted a surer pathway toward real career advancement, something the promised TWA philosophy more reliably promulgated.
She softly took his hand, drew him from the table, and led him toward the sea-facing bedroom. The sliding window wall was open. Moonlight filtered in and gave the bedroom a romantic glow.
She pulled him into bed, moved them into a sidesaddle pose. He was fully awake this time for the insertion and sweet movements inside her. She responded with coos of pleasure but his macho ego needed more control and he rolled to get himself on top.
His strokes were masterful, a deep slow plunge while in a lip-locked kiss. They paused as he lifted his face to watch her blue eyes swell as he dragged his fat knob back along her warm channel. Halting just at the entrance, he stopped with barely his knob connected. Then another kiss while he pushed a long firm stroke back down to depth.
The light sea breeze billowed the loose curtains at the open wall facing the sea, cooling the heated bodies connected in coitus. They were serenaded during their slow sensual mating by the background sea and fauna sounds, the staccato patter from a light sprinkle of rain.
Abby's breathing rose in pace and volume until she naturally went rigid, her pussy pulsating along Ned's cock. He waited her out as she climaxed with a loud cry, hugging him tightly. He felt her body soften and initiated the vigorous strokes that put him over the top and drenched her womb with his spunk.
They lay cuddled in the pose and fell asleep.
Krystal returned late in the night, carrying the beach paraphernalia, after having completed a quickie hookup with an infatuated beach bodybuilder. She never found her bikini top, probably collected by a passing beachcomber. She saw the closed master bedroom door and settled herself in the guest suite.
The disturbance stirred the sex fatigued pair, but not so fatigued that they couldn't engage in another round of relaxed petting and fucking.
In the morning, Ned, Krystal, and Abby shared a breakfast of fruit, yogurt, and green tea.
Krystal gathered Ned's discarded clothes and packed them into the luggage, laying out today's travel clothes on the bed. They readied to depart for their next appointment elsewhere; Abby had satisfactorily completed Ned's Evaluation Assessment.
She was informed her escort to the TWA Campus Induction would arrive in a few days. Meanwhile, she could enjoy the bungalow for the intervening time, including guests, since according to Krystal there were apparently some manly men in the vicinity. Abby nodded brightly in concurrence.
The town car was gassed up and waiting for them in the driveway. Krystal whispered a reminder to Ned as they stood at the bungalow door.
"Oh, yes, thank you, Krystal. Abby, I almost forgot. I need one more thing from you to finalize your Evaluation Assessment."
Before she could even respond, he pulled the side ties of her white bikini thong, drew the cloth off her hips, and gripped the wad in his fist.
"I always retain a token reminder, a memento of my successful inductees."
After bijou kisses all around, naked Abby waved her Evaluation Assessment team goodbye as they drove off.
As Krystal wheeled them back to the airport, Ned mulled over the astonishing future being afforded the magnificent Abby, and her passing befuddlement when she eventually encountered her generous TWA Scholarship benefactors. The tightknit funding cabal would realize spectacularly gratifying returns for their generous scholarship fund investment when they visited her on campus. They would augment her poise lessons, booking roster slots as her guest coach tutors for private sessions, family incest acclimation, and Freewill Weekends.
** Abby Johannsen 02
He couldn't help it. His eyes teared up. Not dripping with tears but very watery.
She had said 'No'.
Last night had been unbelievable. He had chatted her up at the beachfront bar, attracted to her giggles and blond-haired, blue-eyed charms. She took a similar interest in him and had led him back to her bungalow. He had planned to make her body his heavenly playground. But she had turned the tables and used him as an unstoppable fucking machine.
He was smitten and begged her to stay, for a night, for a week, forever.
"I can't. I have a destiny elsewhere. I'm leaving today."
Abby saw his angst and guessed his pain. He was not the first to become clingy after a single night with her. She smoothed a finger down his cheek, made a gracious pouty face, and cooed sweet words about how wonderful he had been.
"You'll soon find another. There will be others like me."
"No. Never. I really mean that" he whimpered.
She had come upon him in the nearby beachfront bar, a handsome beefy beach body. Rocky claimed to be independently wealthy, had inherited family money and she didn't doubt his sincerity. He had been a magnificent fuck-mate, bestowing on her numerous mini- and maxi-orgasms throughout the night, just as she had rocked Rocky's world.
Her hands pressed his broad chest and he loosened his hug. She gently guided him out the back beach portal and kissed him farewell.
Alejandro, her TWA Escorting Coach Tutor, was scheduled to show up at any minute and she just had enough time to pack her belongings and prepare for her travel to the TWA campus, as yet an unknown location.
And as expected of the fabled enigmatic organization, Alejandro arrived exactly on time. She answered the doorbell and found a dark and handsome, lithe, and muscular Latino. She was struck by his beauty and refinements as he greeted her with polite but condescending respect and then entered confidently, discounting any pretense of her permission.
He saw her packed luggage set in the entranceway. Uninvited, he opened the valises. He sorted roughly through her clothes and other things, discarding much of her belongings in a heap on the floor.
He smiled as he lifted out her lacy bras and panties and tossed them aside as well. They joined the growing pile by cotton and wool blouses, skirts, and denim shorts.
What remained were toiletries and some personal items. He opened a smaller kit that he had brought along and produced her travel clothes ensemble furnished by TWA.
He informed her that, from now on, TWA would furnish her with their sole judgment of her every need, including her prescribed wearables.
Alejandro ordered her to strip off her outfit, snatching the sundress from her. She waited and then realized he was waiting on her. She slid off her thong panties, held them out and he tossed them towards the pile of other discarded items.