Exquisite to Exotic

This was easily the strangest situation you'd ever found yourself in. The runner up (that time you took a stripper home and ended up dating her) doesn't even compare to this. You were staring at your 10th grade English teacher, Ms. Willows. She looked exactly the same as she did when you had a crush on her over half a decade ago. Her pointed features were wearing natural looking makeup (besides her eye-shadow). Her golden wheat locks framed her trademark judgmental expression. Everything was the same... Except she was wrapped in a semi-transparent latex dress. A form-binding dress that showed off every curve that you used to trace with your eyes waiting for the lunch bell. Oh, and her face was missing. Yeah, completely missing. Face, hair, attached jewelry, and all were casually hanging from her hand, her features still stuck in their 'Oh really Mr. Smith?' look, if a little saggier. In place of her head was the face of the bizarre-shit-that's-actually-happening silver medal winner: the stripper you dated. No, wait, are dating. Currently. Besides this whole situation being bat-shit, the three (double)whiskey sours you'd put down (in the last hour, on an empty stomach) weren't making this any easier to figure out. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again. You've got nothing. "Ms. Evelyn Willows"/Claire looked less than thrilled.
    "You said you were going out for a few drinks at the bar, not a strip-club."
    She was always so calm when she was angry.
    "They..." You waved your hand in the general direction you last saw your friends."...Changed the... Venue."
    She tilted her head farther to show extra-disappointment. In contrast to your pale-skinned, blonde-haired teacher, Claire had olive skin, dark ombre hair, and a cute nose ring. Even pissed-off she was cute. Maybe cuter.
    "You could have said no."
    "I could've, it juss would'n've... Looked good?"
    You hoped that stumbling through the excuse would earn you some pity.
    "If you wanted a lap dance from a stranger, you could have just forced one of my masks over my head and demanded one at home. You know I like it when you take charge occasionally"
    That got your attention. Not because she just gave you permission to surprise her with a rough, masking and BDSM session, but because:
    "I din't want a lap dance!" She tilted her head the other way, half because you slurred that sentence to hell and back, and half because she didn't believe you.
    "Then why did Liam give me 100 dollars to come give you a private dance?" She pulled the bill out from between the bodysuit's rubbery skin and her own latex dress to prove the point. Benjamin Franklin's portrait looked especially disappointed tonight.
    "Ohmagod... he heard me talkin' about her... I mean you-er... Her!" You finally just pointed at the teacher's silicone frown. "I din't ask fur it, I swear, and I just sat down for a sex... Uh, sec... The room was spinnin'!"
    At this moment, by sheer luck, a specific synapse in your brain sobered up just long enough for two hard-working neurons to form a great question:
    "Wait, dafuq are you doing here?" you skillfully articulated.
    Claire straightened up and crossed her arms. She was clearly unprepared for your realization.
    "This is my second job. I quit the bookstore a few weeks back and came back here"
    Your booze-addled mind took a second to remember where 'here' was. It was Schooley's Gentleman's Club, the same place you had met Claire a year ago. How you managed to score such a beautiful woman who was just trying to earn money for college, you still haven't figured out. You were just the right amount of drunk to be funny and confident through the two, three-minute songs you could afford. You still remember the shock when she, in the middle of your second dance, produced a pen out of nowhere (she was straight up naked, where did she hide it?), plucked off her pasties, wrote her number on one and slid it into your pocket. She made sure to dig around a little to make sure it was really in there, much to your pleasure. Looking around the walls, you might have been... Yes, you were! You were in the same booth where you had met her. Scratched into the wall next to your head were the words 'JT wuz here'. You still haven't got any clue who JT 'wuz', but you remembered him.
    "Heh, same booth," you stammered, pointing over your head. Claire giggled a little as her cheeks got a little less red. Red cheeks... Oh, right! Claire was working here again without telling you. Okay, it was time to hit her with a real tough question, to figure out what was really going on.
    "Why?" Even in your state, you were underwhelmed with yourself.
    Her cheeks went red again as she opened her mouth.
    "I got sick of the dumb customers, the dust, and the looks my boss gave me. I can do what I want here."
    What was that about her boss?
    "I'll fuck your boss... Up. Fuck 'im up." You were combative and inarticulate at this point.
    "No, don't bother, he gave me a good excuse to leave, if nothing else. Now I can do all of this."
    She gestured through the curtain. She had closed it when she walked into the booth, to get a little privacy. As the strobe lights flickered on the stage, you could see the sporadic shadows of other people moving around. The brutish patrons cast motionless silhouettes, while the outlines of the dancers were constantly moving, jumping and bouncing, mesmerizingly, in unique attempts to squeeze a few more dollars out of their prey.
    "I missed being able to do this," she continued, moving toward you. She put her knees together and crouched down, throwing Ms. Willows' mask on your lap then running her hands up her chest. The sudden, sexual, turn of events sobered you up a bit. You were still drunk, but (slightly)more attentive at least. She dropped low and bounced a little bit, biting the tips of her gloved fingers with a fake look of innocence. Then she stood up, placed her hands on your hips, and sat on your lap. You looked down to see the imprint of her glistening mound being squeezed by the tight latex pants she wore under her dress. That was like a shot of espresso for you, and you felt about half as drunk as when you started your exchange.
    "Liam paid for three dances plus a tip, so I guess we better get to it."
    She pressed a few buttons on the wall mounted tablet and generic club music started resonating through the booth. She spent the song grinding herself all over you and lightly guiding your hands on a tour of Ms. Willows' rubber body. She playfully slapped your wrist when you tried petting a little too heavily. When you tried slipping your hand under her skirt and up her leg, she pushed off of you. Claire picked up the mask by its edge and turned it upside down. She stretched the opening between her hands and peered inside to align herself. She brought the mask to her face and pulled it tight over the back of her head. Ms. Willows' features slowly rendered themselves out of the elastic mask, and soon your teacher was staring at you with the same frustration as usual, minus a hint of bemusement in the slightly upturned corners of her mouth.
    "Mr. Smith! I think you're a little too inebriated to enjoy what 's happening here! I'll be right back with some coffee to snap you out of this drunken doltishness. You wait right here and think about your behavior."
    By the time she finished her scolding, she had a full and mischievous grin on her face. She stood up and tucked the frill of her mask under the deep neckline of the bodysuits bosom, and just like when she had walked in, there was no way of knowing this was a counterfeit of your favorite educator. She disappeared through the curtain, which gave you a moment to think. You fumbled for the ice water on the table and took a long swig, chewing a couple chips while you were at it. In a few seconds it felt like a layer of haze had lifter. You were still drunk, no question there, but you were hazily in the moment. You stood up and stretched a bit. You felt like there was a question in your mind that you had forgotten. It was on the tip of your tongue when Ms. Willows walked back in, who made you forget it.
    She passed you a Styrofoam cup full of burnt smelling blacker-than-tar coffee. You burnt your tongue in an attempt to drink some, but that was a good thing, because it was easily one of the worst cups of coffee you'd ever had. At least it was strong, so you kept going, jerking it away from your mouth only when the heat became unbearable. "Evelyn" was punching something into the tablet. In a brilliant design choice, the person that installed the tablet put it at belly-button level and over a fixed end-table... So every person that used it had to bend over. Much to your sex-addled joy, Ms. Willows' latex enveloped cheeks were right in your face. You leaned back and admired the familiar curves, sipping the half-full coffee. She spent a full five minutes doing something on the tablet, bouncing ever so slightly to the beat of the stage music. She peeked over her shoulder and smirked, then went back to the tablet, but not before spreading her feet and jiggling her ass a bit more. You nearly choked on your drink when you looked between her legs: through the skirt you could see the cleft where the latex separated the lips of her pussy. She heard you cough, and without turning around she reached back with a hand and pulled the skirt from her knees up to her waist. Before you could react, she started tracing the rubbery slit with her fingers. You forgot that this was Claire for a moment and became fixated on the womanhood you daydreamed about for a year. You threw back the last bit of coffee, grounds and all, and feeling almost entirely sober you placed your hand on the inside of her leg. Surprisingly it didn't get slapped or pulled away. You rubbed your erection with your other hand as you slid a hand up the latex. When you reached the top of her leg, you gently massaged the inside of her thigh, squeezing the shiny surface until it dimpled then watched it reform, over and over again. She instinctually squeezed her knees together around your teasing hand. With your fingers you traced the latex wrinkle between her lips as you buried your thumb between her ass cheeks. She was purring gently, but you wanted to really tease her. You gripped hard and lifted, firmly squeezing her rubber-encased genitals.
    Ms. Willows caught herself against the wall with her arm as she yelped into her hand. With a full-body shake she turned around again.
    "Mr. Smith, how dare you! I have half the mind to come back there and teach you a lesson on how to properly treat a woman!"
    She would have actually looked angry if she wasn't biting her bottom lip so hard.
    "That might be a good idea Ms. Willows," you taunted her. Smartass.
    She let out an indignant scoff, pressed a few final buttons, then turned around, pausing only to pull your hand out of her hot, slick crack. She pushed you against the back of the seat and sat on you with her legs spread. She started undoing your belt and zipper as Claire's voice left Evelyn's lips.
 "I just spent the last five minutes shifting around scheduled private dances and stage performances to make sure that all three of your friends would be well entertained for the rest of the night. Then, if that wasn't enough, I put in the manager's key and bought you private dances, with me, through the next four hours. That's nearly three thousand dollars’ worth of this."
    She squeezed her breasts together. They made a rubbery squeaking sound as she pushed your head into them. Even through the latex you could feel the heat emanating from her heaving chest. The smell of rubber was so strong you could almost taste it. Then you literally tasted the bitterness on your lips as you gently sucked her nipple.
    "And all that was on top of using Facebook vacation photos from your teacher's trip to Spain to literally recreate her body as a perfect skinsuit that, if I may, looks fucking amazing on me."
    The question you couldn't remember came back to you now.
    "Hey, wait, how did..."
    Coincidentally, she had just answered all of your questions.
    "Why are you..." You stammered like an idiot. Maybe you were still kind of drunk
    "Wow."
    What an articulate sentiment.
    "Yep, I've been planning this for a while now. I wanted to get you something special and when you turned red while we were going through your yearbook, I got this idea. It's a good thing she still has a body made for two-piece bathing suits, otherwise I would've never known to put this cute birth mark on her ass."
    You looked over her labor of love with a dumbstruck expression.
    "This is incredible. How did you replicate her voice?"
    "Three episodes of Downton Abbey and two calls to listen to her answering machine message. Pretty smart right?" She nodded to her own question.
    "This is the sexiest and, in really a strange way, the most meaningful gift anyone's ever gotten me."
    "And how do you thank me Mr. Smith? By groping my rubbery cunt."
    Claire had morphed back into Ms. Willows. Along with the voice change, her expression had returned to persistent, mild-disappointment instead of Claire's mischievous grin. She had opened your pants, and now reached under the band of your boxer-briefs. You tensed up a bit when her hand took hold of your shaft to pull it out and stroke it. Her other hand pulled the tablet to the side, revealing a small shelf of random club-appropriate necessities. Condoms, rubber gloves, bottles of strawberry lube. For afterwards, there were cigarettes and a lighter, a few tiny bottles of mouthwash, and sanitary wipes. She plucked the lube out and shut the hidden toiletries cabinet, then turned on the music again with a single button press.
    "It seems I'm going to have to show you proper etiquette, Mr. Smith."
    She pulled the glove off one hand, threw the discarded latex at your chest, then poured some of the strawberry flavored lube into her realistic silicone palm. She clenched her fist for a moment, warmed the lube with a seductive breath, then wrapped her slick digits around your rod. You tensed again, then relaxed as the coated your member in the clear substance. She stroked your shaft sensually as she leaned in.
    "Always start slow Mr. Smith, build the experience... don't force your hand into someone’s crotch." The deadpan remark made you blush with embarrassment.
    The wet, sucking, sounds of her hand rapidly churning lube around your cock was louder than the music. Without releasing her grip, she got down on her knees before you.
    "I am now going to demonstrate how to properly take your time satisfying someone orally, Mr. Smith. Pay attention to the pacing, not my expert fellatio skills, if you can manage."
    She gently kissed the head of your cock, and you tensed in response. She was still jerking you off when she placed her lips around your tip. She sucked gently for a moment, before pulling back to lick the sweet, strawberry ooze from her lips. Finished, she placed her pursed lips on your tip, and slowly suck your entire head into her mouth. The feeling was making you groan quietly, but then she started running her tongue around your dome. You grunted with surprise, then again when she teased your urethra with the tip of her tongue. She was still sliding a hand up and down your shaft, two fingers and her thumb bouncing between base and lip. She reached her other hand up for yours. When she found it, she intertwined your fingers and looked directly into your eyes. You could see into Claire as she made your shared fantasy come true. You got to fuck your Mrs. Robinson and she got to fuck you as someone else, and all in this sex fueled environment. The best part for you was knowing that even though you got to enjoy these diverse women, their different bodies and unique behaviors, behind, or rather under, it all was the same, stable woman. Through Claire you had a connection with every one of her personas that you wouldn't if you were in bed with the real person. It allowed you to freely and comfortably experiment with them in ways that would otherwise take months or even years of trust building. If she weren't in the middle of a lesson right now, you would feel comfortable placing your hands on the back of Claire's head, and with the slightest of nods from her, you could force your entire cock down her throat.
    As if she was reading your mind, at that exact moment she breathed in and dropped her head, taking your entire length into her hot mouth. She gagged a little while you let out a strained gasp. With drool and lube dripping down her chin, she began thrusting her head back and forth, raking the head of your dick against every fleshy surface in her mouth. She was doing such an incredible job that you didn't notice her gloved hand slip low between your legs. She lubed it up and slid it between your buttocks. She was gently teasing the outside of your hole when she took you base deep with her mouth and stayed there. You were so focused on that sensation that you cried out in surprise when she penetrated you. The tip of her finger had slid into your puckered anus. With all the lube she barely had to push to slip the rest of her middle finger inside you. You let out a high-pitched "ooh" with every twitch of her finger, then a full groan when she found your prostate. Between the deepthroating and the internal messaging, you didn't last long. You lifted yourself off the bench as you rose to a shaking orgasm. She pulled her mouth off of you with a sucking 'pop' and continued jerking you with her other hand. You squirted cum into beaded strands across her chest. As the streams died down, you leaked more of the milky liquid down her skillful fingers. She placed your hypersensitive head between her lips again, causing your entire body to cringe as you sucked in air through clenched teeth. She left your cock dripping with her saliva, then licked the semen off her fingers with deft ease.
    "I hope you learned something new, Mr. Smith," she chided while pulling her finger out of you. You had just gotten used to it, and now your hole felt empty without her.
    "I think it's time we move to the more traditional definition of sex."
    She was standing now and pulling the glove from her hand. She dropped it to the floor and opened the hidden compartment again. The lights outside were flashing for a stage show, so you couldn't see what she grabbed until she turned back around. In one hand was a wipe that she used to clean your seed off her latex-sealed chest. The other had pink, fuzzy handcuffs and a red ball gag. She threw them onto your lap.
    "Do keep that clean Mr. Smith; it's going in my mouth once I'm done explaining how you need to fuck me."
    You tucked it into your breast pocket and placed the handcuffs next to you. She tossed the wipe, closed the panel and stepped toward you. She pulled her skirt up again and looked down at the rubber casing that blocked her mound.
    "Well, that just won't work," she declared dismissively.
    With one primal motion she reached both hands to her groin and grabbed a small handful of her pants. She pulled the the material to its limits, so thin that it looked perfectly clear, like the film of a bubble. When she dug in her fake nails, the material tore open with an audible 'pop'.
    "Ow!" The rubber had snapped against her sensitive lips when it gave way. It must have hurt Claire through the skinsuit, because Ms. Willows gently rubbed herself to ease the sharp pain. When she removed her hand, you could see the perfect, frayed opening through which to fuck her. She sat down on your lap and teased your cock for a few minutes, waiting on you to harden for another round. In the meantime, she reapplied lube to your member while kissing you. She started gentle, but soon she was trying to suck your tongue out of your mouth or jam her tongue down your throat, from moment to moment. When you got hard again she leaned to one side and pressed your head against her silicon slit.
    "If this were any other woman, Mr. Smith, you would be wearing protection and, ideally, she would be on birth control pills, understood?"
    You gave an innocent nod.
    "However today, since my vagina is actually a mold made out of a polymer blend, you may ride me 'bareback', as they call it."
    Her tone was one of mild curiosity. She sounded like this was her first time trying such outlandish behavior. With her English accent, you imagined her regaling guests at a tea party with the tale of "that one time she had risky intercourse with an unsavory ruffian". For that reason, you wanted to make it memorable for her.
    She lowered herself and onto your shaft, bending it like a spring before the slippery rod shot into her warm slot. The surprise made her lose her balance for a moment, and she fell the rest of the way until you were base-deep inside of her. She let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a moan while you grunted.
    "Well that's one way to start. Oh well, on with the lesson Mr. Smith."
    She began slowly grinding her groin up and down your lap, churning the depths of her pussy with your engulfed member. Her breathing hastened as she transitioned to gently bouncing on you. Her insides didn't feel fake to you. Whatever Claire had used to form Ms. Willows' cock-sleeve, it felt perfectly real.
    The motion became more eager as she got comfortable. In a moment she had leaned against you, hands on your shoulders to steady herself as her pelvis bounced up and down your length.
    "Now you'll have to start following my rhythm Mr. Smith, in order to- Mmmph!"
    Her eyes showed surprise, then annoyance, as she realized that you had shoved the ball-gag in her mouth. Before she could react, you took hold of her wrists and put them behind her back. You smirked at her as you both listened to the ratcheting clicks of the fuzzy cuffs. Her grunting protests became a muffled scream when you threw her onto the table, face-up, without even removing your dick from inside her. Standing, you were perfectly lined-up to thrust into her, and soon you were fucking her to the beat of the music. The uneven table rocked with you as you pumped harder. The rhythmic sound of wet rubber and slapping skin drowned out the song as you fucked her as hard as you could. She locked eyes with you, moaning incessantly into the plastic gag. Something felt a little... strange. You looked down and saw that the mold of Ms. Willows' vagina had separated from Claire's tight slot. With every thrust, your cock was pulling the silicon fabrication out of the real flesh, only to drive it back in a second later. It looked as if Ms. Willows' wet hole was refusing to let go of your cock, so it stretched unnaturally to keep its loving hold. Her entire mound was being pulled four and five inches away from Claire's skin, and she loved it. She was starting to cry out each time you forced the artificial organ back inside her. The extra resistance in the motion told you that Claire must have put some crazy texture on her side of the rubbery box. Her eyes rolled back, and her fingers clenched the table with each thrust. You bent over and grabbed her shoulders, so you could thrust even harder. The urge to release started growing and somehow you could feel, even through Ms. Willows' skin, that Claire was almost ready. Your motion got wilder as the feeling welled up inside. Your muscles strained themselves. The rocking, moaning, jiggling body of your favorite daydream was bound in latex and gagged in front of you, her elastic cunt engulfing your entire shaft with each stroke of your hips, but the eyes of your true lover stared into yours. She was experiencing true carnal pleasure while trapped in the restrained body of a stranger. Claire was being fucked like a stranger through two layers of bondage. This realization pushed you both over the edge. Your bodies tensed as you moaned and grunted in unison. Your strokes were short and powerful as you emptied yourself into her with each throbbing squirt. You could feel Claire's fluid leaking inside her suit, making sounds like a wet sponge as you pressed your pelvis into her. Her body was shaking with pleasure as you finished with one last, hard thrust, forcing cum out from between your cock and her lips. You pulled her upright and removed her cuffs. Instead of going for the gag, her hands grabbed the back of your head and pulled it into her chest. She squeezed your face into her rubber tits. The smell of latex returned, but this time it mingled with the sweet scent of Claire's fresh sweat as it oozed from the seam in her neck. You pulled away as you reached up and undid the buckle on her gag. You pulled it away, forcing her lips to release their death-grip on the ball with a wet, sucking pop. She breathed out her mouth in long ragged breaths, Claire's eyes still a little teary from her bound pleasure. You pulled Ms. Willows' dripping lips to your mouth and felt the wet heat of Claire's familiar tongue. The way her lips gripped yours, eager and deep, made it very clear that her mouth ached for the gag. She finally calmed down after a couple minutes, and Claire's heaving form transformed into Ms. Willows' perfect posture, minus the occasional shiver and gasp when you moved inside her.
    "While unexpected and entirely-gaah-uncalled for, I must say, that was rather im-mmm-pressive, Mr. Smith."
    That's the highest praise 'she' had ever given you. You had to peel her tight cock sleeve off of your shaft with your fingers. You couldn't resist making 'Evelyn' jump one more time by forcing it back into her sensitive cunt. You went to pull your pants back up,  but before you could re-buckle your belt, Ms. Willows’ gloved hands stopped you.
    "It seems only fair that I thank you for that display, Mr. Smith."
    Before you could even tell her that it was your pleasure, she had your entire length in her mouth. It was so hot and wet from being sealed with the gag that you were fully hard in a moment. She reached behind her head and yanked the mask forward and off, revealing Claire's red face, glistening with sweat. Her hands squeezed your ass and pulled you cock into her face. She made a choked gagging sound with each bob of her head while drool and semen poured down her chin. It didn't take long for Claire's fellatio skills to finish you. This third ejaculation in less than an hour left you in a stupor.
    She cleaned up with a towel from the cabinet then sat next to you. She wrapped your arm around her shoulders and kissed your still-hot cheeks.
    "So did I do good picking our new date night option?"
    You let out a small nod, too drained to manage anything more grateful.
    She wore the mask on her hand. Ms. Willows' hollow, slack features swayed gently.
    "Maybe I'll wake you up one of these days as Evelyn. You're so groggy in the morning that you'll really think it's her."
    Your smirk didn't do justice to how lucky you really were to have Claire. At that moment, a shadow stopped at your curtain and pulled it aside. Liam, borderline blackout, peaked his head in.
    "Heyyy man, howwzit goin' with-watdafuq? Claire?'
    Before you could answer, he turned around and stumbled away.
    "Let's hope he doesn't remember that," Claire nonchalantly wished aloud as she closed the curtain again. She turned back to face you.
    "So we still have two hours left..."
    You took a deep breath as she reapplied Ms. Willows' face.