Loading...I think it must have been some kind of temporary insanity. What other way is there to explain where I found myself that day? Driving in my car, naked from the waist down, not knowing exactly what was going to happen when I reached the address that was written on the paper lying on the seat between my bare legs.
One thing I was sure about—the arousal was just leaking out of me and pooling on the cool leather seat. Then there was the fact that each time I stopped for a traffic light, I got this amazing tingling deep in my belly, wondering whether someone would pull up along side in a tall SUV and be able to look inside my compact car. Or what if I got stopped by a cop for a warning about a faulty brake light? I was not really sure whether the tingling came from dread or anticipation.
Here I was. Susan Robertson, respected school teacher. I’d been teaching senior English at Kennedy High School for almost 15 years—ever since I graduated from college. Teaching was what I’d always wanted to do. When I was six years old, I would line all my dolls up on my bed and read them stories. In one way or another, I’d been teaching ever since.
I love words, I love language, I love literature, and I love sharing my passion with my students. And if I do say so myself, I’m pretty good at it. I’d been nominated as our district’s teacher of the year twice and had the respect of my colleagues. I wondered what the people I have coffee with every day in the teachers’ lounge would think if they could see me now?
I’m sure they would think that I’d gone crazy. That’s what I thought, too.
And I really wondered what my husband would think! I’d been married to the same man—Dave—since one month after we graduated college. We’d met our freshman year and were each other’s first serious relationship. We’d been generally happy for the past 14 years. But my state of partial undress in a semipublic place made me think that perhaps I should have experimented just a bit more before settling down to a pretty vanilla sex life.
Just then, a van pulled up beside me at a red light. “Shit!” I thought to myself, “The driver’s looking over this way.” I was certain he could see that I was only wearing a little crop top that exposed a good deal of my stomach. But that was not the worst of it. Today it exposed a good deal more since I didn’t have another stitch on. Instinctively, I tried to pull the short top down a little bit, but it did absolutely no good.
“Oh god!” I thought, “He’s looking over at me.” His eyes were playing over my breasts. Of course, that always happens. I have a nice pair—36C—and the little red top clung to them nicely. I looked over at him and smiled weakly, thinking that might distract him a bit. I hoped he would focus on my dark brown eyes and my full mane of dark brown hair that everyone compliments me on.
The distraction seemed to be working for a moment. But then his eyes slid lower. “Oh shit!” I thought. “There’s the double-take. He’s seen me.”
His eyes locked on my pussy. And as they did, I began to leak even more. By then, the paper that contained the address was all wet with my juices.
Finally, the light turned green, and I mashed down on the gas. Mine wasn’t a powerful sports car—it was a little compact that Dave and I could afford on two teachers’ salaries (Dave teaches math at the middle school). But I made a fast left at the end of the next block and Mr. Van Man flew past on the right, his head hanging out of the driver’s window trying for one final peek.
All right, more about how I got myself into this situation. Almost every school year, there’s one student who really gets to you. My rookie year as a teacher, there was Sean Anderson. This kid was always causing trouble, talking, telling jokes and generally testing my ability as a new teacher to control my class. But every time he’d push me right to the edge and I was ready to march him down to the principal’s office, Sean would flash this wonderful “who me?” smile and I’d just have to smile back at him.
He really knew how to manipulate me. And I enjoyed it. I hear he’s a lawyer now. It figures.
Then a few years later, there was Jenny Scott, a pretty little girl who hardly ever opened her mouth in class. I knew there was a lot going on behind those blue eyes of hers and I wanted so badly to draw it out of her. About halfway through the year, I managed to develop a nice rapport with her, and she would stay behind after class and we’d talk. I learned she had a lot of trouble at home with her step-father, and I found her some help with that. She still sends me an email every now and then from the high school where she now teaches . . . English.
This year, there was another one of those kids. Her name is Julie Wright, and believe it or not, she’s the reason I was driving my car in a state of full sexual arousal, trying with all my might to keep from reaching down and playing with myself after almost cumming when Mr. Van Man saw me.
From the first day of school, I had a hard time taking my eyes off Julie. She was not the prettiest girl in the class. But she had this… this presence about her. Oh, she was pretty, all right, with shining black hair cascading just below her shoulders. And these soulful dark brown eyes. They just seemed to lock onto me and draw me in from that first day.
Julie was shorter than the average high school girl, a little over five feet tall, so she had to look up at me when we stood together, since I am 5-8. But there were times when she would look at me and I felt like the smaller one. Despite her short stature, she had a very nice little figure. Her hips were full and nicely rounded, accented by a narrow waist. At the first of the school year, her breasts seemed not all that remarkable. But with just about a month of school remaining, I noticed that she seemed to have filled out more as the year went on. Since it was rather unusual for an 18-year-old to bloom so late, I wondered whether she might have joined the ranks of high school and college girls who had had breast augmentation surgery. However, what little I knew about Julie’s rather modest circumstances, I concluded that her nicely-developed curves were all natural.
She was quite popular with the boys. As a matter of fact, she developed quite a reputation during the course of the year. Occasionally, I’d catch little snippets of conversations as I walked by the tight bunches of girls huddled together in the halls between classes and after school.
“Did you hear what Julie did…?”
“Oh my god, she didn’t do that!”
“She’s such a slut…”
It made me want to grab one or two and shake them and tell them to quit gossiping, but Julie didn’t seem to mind at all. She had this inner confidence that just let her go on her way, seemingly not concerned at all about what her peers were saying about her. But it did seem clear that she was quite sexually adventurous. I guess that’s why I started thinking about her like that.
I know exactly when I started thinking of Julie that way. One afternoon in October, she was sitting there on the front row, wearing this short little denim skirt that was riding way up. She was wearing a white tank top that allowed her bra straps to peek out from underneath, and a pair of blue flip flops.
The class was working on a written assignment and I was sitting at my desk grading papers. I happened to glance down at Julie’s feet and noticed that her toes were painted a bright red. I remember thinking how cute they looked. My eyes sort of drifted upward along her legs until I caught a brief glimpse of her panties peeking out from under her very short skirt.
It was not unusual for me to see something like that from my vantage point at the front of the room, and I’d learned to ignore it unless it was too blatant or happened too often. If it did, I’d ask the offending young lady to stay a minute after class so I could remind her of the virtues of modesty.
But this time, for some reason, I felt that familiar little fluttering in my stomach—the one that signals the early stages of sexual arousal. Unfortunately, I hadn’t felt it much at home lately, since Dave had been busy teaching at the middle school and taking classes toward his master’s degree in the evening.
It was something I was not used to feeling while I was concentrating on teaching, and it made me uncomfortable. Nevertheless, my eyes lingered as I tried to see a bit more of what might be there between Julie’s firm young thighs. I could feel my pulse quicken a little, and I knew I was beginning to lubricate. My mind began to wander back to some of the stories I’d heard about this sexy senior, who was supposedly giving blow jobs to college guys at weekend frat parties at the local university. There was even one rumor involving a male teacher, but I refused to believe it.
Regardless, my mind drifted to thoughts of Julie’s pretty young lips enveloping the straining cock of some horny frat boy, pumping it up and down, grasping it tightly with her hand, and soon eliciting an explosion of semen, which she was not quite able to contain in her mouth. The vision of her with liquid pearls of the hot, sticky goo dripping from her chin actually made my pussy spasm.
Just then a dropped book at the back of the class brought me back from my daydream. Or was it a fantasy? At any rate, when I looked up, Julie’s piercing brown eyes were locked on mine. She obviously knew I had been staring at her, and she knew exactly where I was staring.
I know my face must have given me away because I could feel the heat of my embarrassment rise up from my neck and envelop my face. Even my ears got hot. But, rather than share in my shame, Julie just smiled this enigmatic little smile and shifted her weight in her chair. If anything, her dress rode even higher than before and her thighs may have parted just a little further.
I was saved by the bell, literally, and everyone jumped up and headed home for the weekend. I just sat there at my desk in the empty classroom, my heart pounding, and with a noticeable dampness in my conservative school teacher panties. I thought to myself, “What the hell just happened?”
And I remember hoping that Dave would be home long enough that evening to fuck my brains out. It was clear that I needed some sex.
********
From that day on, I couldn’t keep my mind, or my eyes, off Julie. It was sort of like when someone tells you not to think about a pink elephant. After that, you can’t think of anything else. It seemed no matter where I looked as I was standing in front of the class, my eyes always ended up on Julie. I knew exactly what she wore every day. How she fixed her hair. I noticed when her nipples pressed against the fabric of her tops. Most days, I knew what color panties she was wearing.
And there were a lot of nights, when Dave was away at school, that I would luxuriate in a hot bath before bedtime, while letting my mind drift to thoughts of this girl who had nearly taken me over. I’d picture what she must look like without her clothes on. Imagine what she looked like having sex with those boys. Wondering whether she really got any enjoyment out of it.
My hands would drift over my full breasts as they floated weightlessly in the soapy water. My nipples would harden as I thought of how I’d love to caress her, touch her, make sure she knew how good sex could be when someone took their time with her and wasn’t just in it for themselves.
It wouldn’t take long until one hand was between my legs while the other pinched first one nipple, then the other. I’d bring myself to orgasm night after night with the tight little body of Julie Wright as the last image in my mind before I plunged over the cliff and came.
Lying in bed alone one night after one of those wonderful orgasms, I first began to realize that I actually wanted something to happen between Julie and me. Up to that point, I’d never even thought of myself as bisexual. My only sexual experience with another female came in the aftermath of a drunken party in college my freshman year. It started with my roommate, Karen, and I playfully kissing each other on the dance floor as a way of turning our dates on. It worked! And it was fun, as best I can recall.
Later that night, when we were back in our dorm room, Karen, surprised the hell out of me when she said, “Did you like it when we were kissing?” Her speech betrayed the amount of alcohol we’d consumed that night.
“Yeah,” I responded, trying very hard not to reveal the excitement that this conversation was beginning to generate.
“Do you wanna do it some more?” she asked, very matter-of-factly.
I swallowed hard and whispered, “I guess so… ”
And with that, Karen walked across the room, and sat down beside me on my bed. I could smell the alcohol on her breath (as I’m sure she could on mine), as she leaned a little closer, closed her eyes and kissed me tentatively on the lips. I still remember the taste of her lip gloss and the wonderful smell of her light brown hair.
We kissed for quite a long time, very quietly so as not attract the attention of our other two suitemates who we thought might have been in their adjoining bedroom. We weren’t sure they were around, but we were too involved to stop and check it out. It wasn’t long before we managed to position our legs just right so we could grind our pussies on each other’s thigh. We must have kissed and humped for an hour, all the while getting more and more aroused and less and less concerned about who else might be nearby.
Suddenly, I felt this familiar tingling deep in my belly—something I’d only experienced up to that time as I pleasured myself. Soon, the tingling developed into a throbbing that I couldn’t control. Even though I tried to stop so as not to cry out and attract unwanted attention, I couldn’t. It was too late. I’d had my first orgasm with another person—a girl–while I held tight to my roommate and ground my spasming pussy against her leg.
Quite often during my masturbation sessions in the bath tub, I would start off remembering this drunken, sexy episode with my college roommate. But by the time I came, it would be Julie that I was kissing. Julie’s leg that I clutched tightly to my throbbing cunt.
This, I believe, was the beginning of my temporary insanity. I only wish I knew when it would end.
********
I can’t even describe the guilt I was feeling at just the thought of having sex with one of my students. I’d read things in the newspaper and seen stories on television about teachers who get involved with their students. So I knew what I would be risking. Shame, humiliation, professional ostracism. Probably a criminal record, too. But when you’re on fire with the craving for someone, all these things seem somehow unimportant. There is some rationalization process that makes you think you’ll never get caught.
And so it was that I decided to act on my impulses, my urges. I remember it being almost an out-of-body experience as I developed my plan. I seemed to be looking at this other woman as she went about putting on a sexy yellow sundress that Saturday morning. I watched her as she first slipped on a pair of sexy yellow panties to match, then as she slipped them off again leaving herself naked underneath.
I watched as she painted her full red lips even redder with her favorite “fuck me” lipstick, and as she let her long dark hair fall loose on her tanned shoulders that were displayed so nicely, barely covered by the thin yellow straps.
I had looked Julie’s address up in the principal’s office on Friday before I left school, and I knew about where the apartment she shared with her mother was located. I also knew, from casual conversations with Julie during the year, that her mother always worked Saturdays as an assistant manager at one of the department stores in the mall.
So I had a good idea she would be alone that Saturday, or at least without parental supervision. Who knew whether she would have some friends there at the apartment with her? I fantasized a bit about what they would probably be doing if she did have company, but I hoped she would be alone.
On the drive over there, my heart was pounding just about the way it did that night with my roommate Karen, when I finally found out how good it feels when someone pushes just the right buttons… even if by accident. But today was going to be no accident; I had planned every step very carefully.
If it all worked out, my fantasies about Julie Wright would become real. I would no longer dream about taking her nipples between my lips and sucking them, making them swell with arousal. I would do it! I would make her cum. I would show her how good it can feel when your whole body tenses with the delicious throbbing, tingling, pulsing feeling that courses through you when you climax.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot outside Julie’s building, my legs were shaking so hard I was afraid I couldn’t walk the short distance to the stairs that led to her second story apartment. Having little experience myself with Sapphic sex, I was not overly confident with my ability to pleasure Julie the way I had in my fantasies. However, I was so on fire with wanting her that any self-doubt was overcome by desire.
It turned out that my shaky legs would not have to make the climb to Julie’s apartment, at least not yet. As I rounded the corner, I saw Julie sunning herself on a lawn chair that was sitting on a little patch of grass not far from the steps to her apartment. The early afternoon sun was baking her firm, young body, which looked especially ripe and delicious in a tiny black bikini. I marveled at how curvy her body had become. I no longer saw my English student. I saw an incredibly sexy young woman.
“Hello, Julie,” I said, trying to sound as professional as possible, despite my voice catching in my dry throat.
“Mrs. Robertson? What are you doing here?”
“There’s an issue from school that I need to discuss with you, Julie. Can we go inside for a minute? That is, if we won’t be disturbing your mother.”
“Oh, Mom’s working today. She won’t be home until around eight tonight.”
Julie just looked at me through her dark sunglasses. It was hard to get a read on what she was thinking when I couldn’t see those expressive eyes of hers. But she did seem happy to see me, though a little puzzled by why I would come to her home, rather than talking to her in school.
“Julie, dear,” I asked again, “did you not hear what I said? She seemed to be staring at me with this strange look on her face, not hearing a thing I’d been saying. Of course, I’d taken the opportunity to admire her ripe young body as she lay there in the sun in that tiny bikini, her body glistening with a thin film of perspiration and suntan lotion.
My eyes lingered on her firm, round bottom that was almost completely exposed in her tiny string bikini, with just a very thin strip of black fabric nestled snugly between her cheeks.
“I asked if we could go inside for a minute. I want to talk with you about your final grade in my class,” I repeated, finally seeming to get her attention.
“Oh, er, sure, I guess so,” she finally responded haltingly. At the same time she let her sunglasses slip down her nose and I saw a look flash through her eyes as she stared back at me. It was a look I’d seen before, on those times when she’d caught me trying to peek between her firm thighs in class. It was the look that told me she was excited, rather than put off by my attentions. And it was exactly the same look I could see in her eyes right then.
I watched closely as she stood and picked up her towel, preparing to lead me into her apartment. Encouraged by the look I saw in her eyes, I allowed my gaze to take her all in, starting with her shiny black hair and ending at the tips of her toes, which were once again painted in that bright red color. It was the same color my mother used to call “whore red.” Hmmmmm.
Of course, I paid special attention to her wonderful round breasts, which were barely covered by the small bikini top. And then, her mound. I could see the curve of it, hugged by the thin fabric of her bikini. I noticed that a bit of the black material was sneaking its way between her lower lips, offering an enticing preview of the wonders beneath. I tried to see whether any pubic hair might be peeking out from either side, and when I saw none, I was reminded of the prevailing style of the day for girls her age—smoothly shaven mounds. I had no doubt that Julie would eagerly go along with that “fashion statement.”
Finally, I noticed her shifting from one foot to the other, as if I might be making her a bit uncomfortable with my admiring looks. “Let’s go inside, dear,” I said soothingly, and she turned to walk toward the apartment building with me following behind.
From this vantage point, I was able to watch as her lovely bottom swayed sensuously from side to side as she walked. As she began to climb the steps to the second floor, I lagged just far enough behind to gain an intimate look between her smooth thighs from below. And I noticed what looked to be a moist patch on her bikini bottoms, and it seemed to be growing almost with each step she took up the stairs.
By the time she reached her doorway, it was clear to me that she was turned on by my admiring glances and, I hoped, by the thought of being alone in her apartment with me while her mother was away.
She opened the door and invited me inside. The air conditioning marked a stark contrast to the hot, humid air outside. And it had an immediate effect on Julie’s nipples, which swelled and tried to push their way through the thin fabric of her bikini top. Naturally, my eyes were riveted on her freshening nipples and we both realized it instantly. Her face flushed, though I’m not sure whether it was from embarrassment or excitement. I hoped to find out very soon.
Of course, my own nipples were straining against the top of my thin sundress. And with each step, the fabric stimulated them to the point that they were exquisitely painful. With each caress of the fabric, I felt a little twinge down below as my clit also began to spring to life. My legs were still shaking a bit and I steadied myself against the back of a chair near the door.
The little angel on my right shoulder kept insisting that there was still time to back out and maintain my professionalism as a teacher. But the devil on my left, with assistance from Julie’s straining nipples, kept saying, “Are you kidding?!”
She stood there rather awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do now that her teacher, who was clearly fascinated with the sheer sexuality that oozed from every pore of her hard young body, was inside. Recognizing her hesitancy, I suggested that we sit on the sofa so we could go over what I supposedly came to talk about.
Apparently relieved at my taking the lead, Julie gratefully moved over to the sofa and sat down. She watched as I sat next to her, so close that our legs could have touched with just the least amount of effort.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news, Julie,” I began with a deep sigh. As far as I can tell, your term paper has not been turned in, and you know you need to complete that assignment to pass my course.”
“But, Mrs. Robertson,” she responded hesitantly, her pretty face clouded with a puzzled frown. “I did turn in that report. I stayed up nearly all night last Thursday and finished it.”
“I’m sorry, Julie, I don’t have it and will have to give you an “F” if you can’t give me a very good reason why the report was not handed in on time.”
“That’s bullshit!” she suddenly shouted, her face reddening and her big, brown eyes filling with tears of frustration and anger. Then, when she realized that she was talking to one of her teachers, one whom she really liked, she hesitated. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Robertson, I didn’t mean to say that. But I don’t think it’s fair that I’m in trouble when I honestly handed that paper in.”
Tears were beginning to make little trails down her cheeks as she realized that it was her word against that of a respected teacher. She knew that no one would take the word of a “lowly student” about something like this—especially a student who had been working hard on a bad reputation for the past several years.
I reached over and took her face in both hands and used my thumbs to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. “It’s all right, Julie. I’m sure we can figure something out that will allow me to give you a passing grade.” And with those words, one of my hands brushed her hair back from her face and gently caressed her ear, then her neck.
I watched as her nipples hardened further at my touch. “What do you mean ‘work something out’?” she asked.
My heart was ready to beat its way out of my chest as I plunged ahead. “This is what I mean,” I answered, and at nearly the same time I moved my face close to hers and kissed her softly. I felt her stiffen at the first touch of my lips on hers, but I was encouraged by the fact that she didn’t pull away. My heart was pounding as I kissed her harder the second time and felt a deep sigh escape her lips, signaling her enjoyment of my touch. I knew right then that she was mine, even though she might not have realized it yet.
“Julie,” I said as I leaned away from her just a little, while keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Have you noticed me admiring you in class?”
“Well, I guess so,” she answered hesitantly. “I wasn’t sure exactly. I thought you might be looking at me.”
“Well, I was looking at you, dear. And I very much liked what I saw.”
“What was that, Mrs. Robertson?”
“I saw a beautiful young girl, just on the verge of becoming a young woman. It made me think about when I was your age. When I had all those wonderful, crazy feelings just bubbling up inside me. Feelings that I just didn’t quite know what to do with. And it made me think that I wanted to help you understand those feelings.”
“Well, I have been feeling a lot of things, lately, that’s for sure.”
“And, Julie, did you notice where I was looking a lot of the time when I was watching you?” I held my breath waiting for her to answer, and her face reddened as she thought about how my eyes devoured her those times in class.
“You know exactly where I was looking, don’t you, Julie?” I asked, and at the same time I moved one of my hands between her thighs and began to stroke her lightly with just the tips of my fingers. “I was looking right here, dear.” I was surprised at how natural the seduction of my student, a girl no less, felt at that moment. It was as if I’d been doing things like this for years.
“Mmmmmmm,” was all she could manage in response to my touch before I leaned in and kissed her again, this time more forcefully. I took her bottom lip between mine and sucked on it, then moved to her top lip and do the same. I kissed her the way I love to be kissed—slowly, sensuously, with passion. It was the way I had dreamed of kissing her for these past nine months.
All the while, my hand drifted lightly on the inside of her thighs, from her knees, upward, almost to that magical place between her legs. But each time I approached her treasure, I slowly slid my hand down once again.
I felt her warm breath in my mouth, coming in little pants now, as her ripe young body began to respond to these delicious sensations. She had been touched by boys before, but not this way. Not in a way that allowed her body time to really respond and get in touch with the feelings that were now building inside her.
Just as my tongue pressed inside her mouth, my hand made contact with the thin fabric of her bikini. She gasped again at this intimate touch, but offered no resistance. In fact, I felt her thighs part just a little, in an instinctive reaction that invited me to continue.
And just as my tongue was probing inside her sweet young mouth, I used two fingers to locate her lower lips and begin tracing up and down along the outline of her little slit, feeling her bikini grow even wetter with the desire that had been building inside. I pressed the fabric inside her labia and moved one finger upward until her little moan told me I’d located her clit.
But then I stopped and removed my hand and my lips and looked deeply into her eyes. “Do you like what I’m doing, Julie?”
“Oh, yesssssss,” she sighed, unable to talk above a whisper.
“Do you want me to go farther, dear?”
“Please, Mrs. Robertson. Please touch me like that again!”
“In due time, Julie. But first I want to see those wonderful breasts that I have admired so much this year.” My hands were trembling as I reached behind her neck to untie her bikini top. The two strings fell and her beautifully full mounds began to spill out of the tiny top. For the first time I saw the dark pink of her areolas peeking at me.
Instinctively, her hands moved to hold the top. But then she stopped and let her arms fall to her sides. And as the top slipped a little more, I saw one, then both of her hard nipples. They were amazingly large, and so erect that they were pulling her areolas taught. Gently, I reached around and finished unfastening her top, finally unwrapping the forbidden package I’d been dreaming about for the past nine months.
I watched as her breasts rose and fell rapidly with the excitement. I put my hand gently on her left breast and felt the pounding of her heart. It was beating with a fury reminiscent of a frightened animal that has been captured and doesn’t quite understand what is happening. My other hand moved to her right breast, and I began to massage them both very gently at first, but gradually increasing the pressure of my touch. I rolled her nipples between my thumb and fingers and leaned in to kiss her again. This time her mouth opened wide to invite me inside.
I pressed my tongue inside and began to explore, my heart beating almost as fast as hers. A little smile crossed my lips as her tongue found mine and began a tentative little dance. With this encouragement, I took both her breasts fully in my hands and kneaded them sensuously to the rhythm of our tongues’ caresses.
My own nipples were so hard they were almost painful by this time, and I felt the same dampness between my legs that I felt those times in class when I imagined doing this with her. Only this time it was real! And it was even more beautiful than I’d imagined.
Slowly, I removed my lips from hers and began kissing lightly down her neck, then upward to her ears and down again, with soft little kisses that raised goose bumps on her tight skin. Soon, my lips reached her chest and a little moan of anticipation escaped her lips.
And, sure enough, my mouth found her breasts and my tongue traced an outline around each one, licking lightly at that sensitive skin underneath her pert mounds, and then making smaller and smaller circles until I was outlining her areolas with my wet licks. With each touch of my tongue, I could almost see her nipples grow a little before my admiring eyes.
Sensing from her little moans that she was ready, I took first one nipple, then the other between my lips and sucked them in turn, all the while, my tongue swirling and teasing them. As I took her left breast as far into my mouth as I could, my right hand slid over her flat belly toward her bikini bottoms. And when I encountered the thin fabric, I paused for a minute to tickle that sensitive area just beneath her belly button. Again, more goose bumps.
But just as I was so close to my prize, a feeling of near panic swept over me. “What the hell are you doing, Susan?” I said to myself. “You’re about to do something that you’re going to badly regret.” But despite the pangs of guilt and my own uncertainty about making love to another woman, a girl really, I plunged ahead.
I hesitated for only a moment, then while still suckling firmly at her tender breast; I hooked my fingers in her bikini and began to pull it down. Instinctively, she lifted her hips from the couch to help as I exposed her treasure for the first time. I paused in my suckling just long enough to allow me to reach down and slide her bikini down her smooth, shapely legs and off.
She was now totally naked, aroused almost to the point of confusion, and completely in my control. And I didn’t hesitate to claim the prize that I had been lusting for. I took her breast once again into my mouth and slid my hand firmly and assertively between her thighs, opening her to my touch.
This time there was no teasing, no build up. I didn’t want to risk losing my nerve and I couldn’t bear to delay any longer. My fingers began to trace over the outline of her little slit and feel the nectar that had begun to seep from her. I parted her lips and smeared the lubrication over her opening, making sure that I slickened her growing little bud. I ran two fingers up and down the tender flesh, over and over, each time teasing her clit by trapping it briefly between my fingers and squeezing gently. Her little squeals of delight and pleasure created little pulses and throbs in my own wet tunnel.
Finally, I slid my middle finger inside, but only barely as her tightness resisted my entrance. For a girl with the reputation of being quite experienced sexually, she was amazingly tight. And even though by this time she and I both desperately wanted my finger inside, I had to move slowly, inching it inside her tight little tunnel until she was whimpering at the delicious feeling of this invasion. Her breathing was faster and her hips were rising involuntarily from the sofa as she tried to draw me deeper inside.
At last, my finger was buried completely, and I took my thumb and massaged her swollen little clitty, back and forth, up and down, with her oozing nectar slickening the way. After only a few strokes of my thumb, I felt her small body stiffen and begin to shake. Her stomach muscles grew taught and she held her breath. It was as if she was completely paralyzed for just a moment.
Then I felt the pulsing, the throbbing of her little cunt as her climax shot down from the top of her head to the tips of her red-painted toenails. She cried out loudly, and I quickly put one hand over her panting mouth to muffle the sound, even as my other hand cupped her little mound and ground against her clit while my middle finger continued to stir inside her throbbing tunnel.
I removed my hand from her mouth and replaced it with my lips, and I felt the warm breath of her panting inside my mouth. I knew that I had made her feel things she’d never felt before, just as I was feeling strange new things. And with that thought, I could feel my own juices begin to trickle from me and slicken the insides of my thighs underneath the bright yellow sun dress that I’d worn especially for Julie.
Finally, the throbbing and tingling subsided as the final few waves of orgasm washed over her, and she went limp. I slid my finger out and raised it to my lips to taste her sweet nectar. The taste of her created this tingling deep in my belly and I knew I needed to taste her again, only more fully and completely.
I pulled her limp little body next to me and held her, stroking her damp hair and tingling my fingertips over her cheeks, her neck, and her chest, where the smooth skin was still flushed pink with the afterglow of her orgasm.
We lay together on the couch for, I’m not sure how long, her body still shuddering every now and then with little aftershocks. I held her tight, trying to make her feel safe in my arms and whispered quiet little reassuring things in her ear, letting her know that it was okay to feel like this, to enjoy the touch of another woman—even when it’s your teacher.
Of course, my own arousal was continuing to increase with her naked little body pressed against me. I could smell the scent of my own cunt, which had been oozing nectar since before I got out of my car, knowing what I was planning for Julie this afternoon. I’d been masturbating to the thought of her for almost the entire school year, so when it actually became real, I almost came without even touching myself.
But now I was longing for release. My clit was so swollen and sensitive that the least little movement pushed me closer. My nipples literally ached they were so stiff and aroused. Just the touch of the light cotton fabric of my sun dress made me shiver. But I was not expecting Julie to do anything for me today. I knew she was certainly confused about what had happened, so I decided that today would only be a day for her to receive pleasure. I would have my own pleasure from her another time, I was sure of it by the way she responded to me.
Slowly I moved to one end of the sofa, stretching her out along the length of it and placing one of her bare feet flat on the floor. This position had the effect that I wanted—it spread her wide open… to my view, my touch, and ultimately to my taste. When she realized how exposed she was, she instinctively reached down to try and cover her glistening womanhood. But I moved her hands away from my prize and whispered reassurances. She lay very still with her hands resting on her taught belly.
I paused for a moment to simply admire her. To drink in the sight of this body, which I had only been able to imagine until that afternoon. Her skin was so smooth and firm, with a tightness that only a teenage girl can know. My eyes moved upward from her carefully painted toes, along her shapely legs, until I reached that coveted V between her legs. But I didn’t linger there yet. I wanted to take her all in before returning to claim my ultimate prize.
My eyes continued upward, to her flat belly, which was actually a bit sunken right then because she was lying on her back. I watched her abdomen rising and falling slowly with each breath. Her belly button was a cute little “innie,” and I couldn’t wait for my tongue to dip inside it.
Farther up, her breasts. They looked rather small right then as she lay on her back. They reminded me how they had developed just during the course of the school year . . . growing to the point that the boys were noticing, the girls were jealous, and I was lusting for them. And there was no longer any doubt, they were deliciously real. No artificial augmentation there. Her areolas were large and a dark pink, the nipples rising from them, still erect and pulling them tight. I don’t know if was from the cool of the air-conditioning or the heat of my gaze, but her nipples were reaching up and begging for more attention.
Then I focused on her pretty face—the graceful curve of her jaw, her full sensuous lips. Of every part of her it was her mouth that was the most erotic. The full lips were slightly parted as she relaxed. Her nose was small and slightly turned up. Cute was the best way to describe it, and it seemed so out of place with her more womanly features.
Her eyes were closed. But I knew exactly what they looked like—large, brown, expressive. I had looked into them many times in class. They had caught me staring more than once, imagining what it would be like if ever I were able to get her to this exact place where she was right then. I would have loved to see the look in them as she realized what I was about to do, but I decided not to disturb her, to make her open them just yet because I wanted her to be completely relaxed for what was to come.
Finally, her hair—dark and shiny, flowing down past her shoulders when she stood. But now it was forming a lovely black frame for her face as it sprawled carelessly over the sofa cushion and cascaded downward slightly off the edge of the couch. I couldn’t keep from reaching down to brush it out of her face a little, partly so I could see her more completely, and partly to demonstrate that I was in charge.
Finally, it was time for my prize. I scooted my knees underneath me at the end of the couch, and the position brought my face in perfect position directly above her little mound. I admired the curve of it, as it rose below her flat belly and I saw that my assumption was correct—it was totally bare.
In this position, her scent surrounded me, and I drank it in. It was musky, sensuous, and it was mixed with the smell of her suntan lotion and some fruity cosmetic that teen aged girls seemed to use a little too much of. But even that made my pussy tingle and contract a little as I thought how many times I’d smelled that fruity aroma when I walked by her desk in class. But it was her natural aroma that made my nipples harden further as I imagined her taste.
I tried to remember how Dave pleasured me with his mouth and tongue, recalling the techniques that I enjoyed and trying to reproduce those for Julie. Only I would do it as another woman . . . who would know even better just how lightly or firmly to touch, how long to make it last. I tentatively reached down and traced one finger lightly along the length of her little slit. I marveled at how small she was, even with her lips slightly swollen with arousal. Her leg and stomach muscles tensed a little bit at my touch, but as I continued my light caress, up and down the length of her, she began to relax, even though her breaths seemed to be getting a little quicker.
I moved my other hand down and used both to part her outer lips. She was still wet and shiny with the fluids of her first orgasm, and as I opened her further, I could see the little pools of arousal that were collecting in her pink folds. Higher, I saw my ultimate goal—her little clitty, mostly covered by its hood, but beginning to peek out to seek my attention.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I moved my face close and felt the amazing heat emanating from her sex. I blew my breath over her, not to cool her but to heat her further. And it seemed to work as her hips began to move on the couch as if she didn’t know whether to try and get away or move closer.
But even if she had wanted to move away, it was too late. I extended my tongue and made one long lick from that sensitive area just above her tight little rosebud, along her wet folds to her sensitive little pearl. Her body shuddered at this exquisite sensation and a little mewing sound escaped her lips. I was certain that she was experiencing something for the very first time, and it thrilled me to know I was the one who was experiencing it with her.
Another full lick, this time with the tip of my tongue pressing a little farther inside. Then another. And another. Each time upward, I paused to flick her clit back and forth rapidly with my tongue. I varied the pace of my licks, sometimes they came fast, sometimes slowly. I didn’t want her to anticipate when the next delicious sensation was coming.
I looked up at her and saw that her eyes were clamped tightly shut and she was biting her lower lip. Her nostrils were flared as her breaths came faster and faster. I moved my hands along her abdomen, upward to her breasts and began to pinch her nipples in rhythm with my licks.
Her hips were writhing on the couch as I continued to pleasure her with my tongue, the licks coming faster and faster, the flicks of her clit becoming harder and more direct. She was moaning now, panting, squirming—unable to take much more of this pleasure, but at the same time needing more and more.
Finally, when I knew the time was right, I sucked her swollen clit into my mouth and began to suckle, nursing on it as I would a little nipple. At the same time, I pinched hard on her nipples. It nearly drove me wild when Dave did this to me, and it seemed to have the same effect on Julie.
She screamed and began to hump my mouth eagerly. And with each thrust of her hips, I sucked harder on her little pearl and pinched her nipples harder. Then I felt a gushing of her juices on my lips as she came again for me, this time much more violently than the first. Her nectar was flowing from her now and making a wet puddle on the couch. The sight of this took me over the edge with her, and I quickly removed one hand from her breast and thrust it underneath my dress and between my legs—just in time to feel the spasming of my own cunt and to feel the explosion of juices from inside my writhing body.
But I kept my mouth pressed hard against her pussy, allowing her to grind out the last little bit of her orgasm on my face. I wanted to taste her juices. I wanted her to paint my face with them.
Finally, it was over. Julie went limp and seemed to be passed out there on her living room couch. Her body seemed almost lifeless as I watched her there, but I could see her firm young breasts rising and falling slightly with the deep breaths of sleep.
Deciding not to wake her, I smoothed my skirt and tried to make myself presentable enough to emerge from her apartment and make my way to my car. The afternoon was getting away and I needed to hurry home to fix dinner for my husband. It was time to go back to being the proper wife, the professional teacher that I was before Julie took me over.
But as I slipped quietly from her apartment and drove away, I already knew there would be other times—times when I would be on the receiving end of the pleasure. And I thought about how her sweet young face would look between my thighs.