Loading...Classes are never as interesting as in the catalog, and continuing education units are never made to sound interesting. As usual, all the students sized each other up the first class and settled into our seats for the remainder of the summer session.
I found myself with a second year biology teacher to my right, a middle-aged business and economics teacher to my left, and behind me a woman almost exactly my age, who I found out was an assistant principal at a middle school. I am in my third year teaching high school social studies in a semi-rural school. For the first session we paid attention, we are professionals, afterall. We also decided that we needed a drink afterwards.
Sam is the young biology teacher. He announced he is saving all his money for a June wedding next year. That brought grumbles from Mike, who announced that anyone getting married needed his head examined, he failed to mention if that also went for women. Connie and I looked at each other and laughed. She stated quite unequivocally, that after being semi-engaged to be engaged to a biology teacher in the high school she taught at for many years, she too was giving up on the marriage game.
That left me. I raised my glass of Chardonnay and congratulated Sam, commiserated with Connie, and told Mike he was a cynic, though with a smile on my face. I also stated, “Marriage is definitely out of the question for me. And in a much lower voice added, “In this state anyway.” Mike snorted. Sam looked at me with the naivety of youth, and Connie looked directly into my eyes to see if there was a hidden grin.
Surprisingly, it was Mike who suggested we exchange phone numbers as the course was more demanding than suggested.
“As we all seemed to be compatible. ‘Except for Junior,’ experiencewise, we may find it helpful to be able to stay in contact during the intervening week.”
Sam rose to leave first, anxious, no doubt to spend some time with his fiancee. Connie was next, I had to rise to let her pass from the booth, and felt just the barest squeeze of my elbow as she moved against me. Mike and I sat there and slugged down a couple of more drinks. Well, I sipped my wine, he belted down scotch.
During our conversation, I told him how I had had a successful career in sales, but found it unfulfilling, and having saved and invested fairly wisely, had decided to teach. I have a nice condo overlooking Lake Michigan, drive a decent car, etc, etc, blah, blah. Mike’s eyes were much clearer than you would have expected with all the single malt scotch he had consumed in the 2 hours our little party had been in session. He had avoided any reference to his background, except he was glad for the opportunity to refresh outside of his school with professionals. That did surprise me. I studied him, and came to the conclusion he was ‘on stage’ , as it were, during the conversation about marriage. I primed him with another drink and he confessed, “Very happily married for 20 years to a delightful woman.
And, yes, I did understand what you said, as did Connie.
And, no, no ulterior motives.
Dee, I find you very easy to talk with is all, as I am sure would Connie,” the last comment was with a wink.
“You old fraud! I would hate to take a course with you, I laughed, “Or play poker.”
We left together and he walked me to my car, we had eaten and the drinks were typical of mass watering holes, so I had no trouble navigating home.
The next three days flew past, there are a thousand things to do in summer, sunbathing being a high priority for me. I was getting my things together to go to the private beach my building has on the lakefront when the phone rang. It was Connie, and she wanted to discuss something from the class. I told her my plans for the day and asked if she would like to come over for some sun and gab.
In an authoritative voice, she told me, “We administrators don’t have the luxury of lollygagging about all summer, you know. How about dinner?” Her voice had changed to a light hearted lilt before the last three words.
“I’m a dynamite cook, if I do say so myself. How about you come over about seven-ish?” I said.
Then I gave her my address, she knew the general area. “If you come over at 5:00 I can tell you how to get past Cerberus at the entrance to the beach and you can still catch some cooling down time in the water.
She laughed at the reference to the guardian of Hades and asked how?
“Just wear a two piece swimsuit, a wrap, sunglasses and a smile. Works for me every time.
“You should also give him your name, I will leave it at the desk.”
“It’s a date,” Connie responded.
I went down to the beach for two hours, and then back to my apartment to prepare cold salads and a pitcher of Sangria.
My original swimsuit was for sunbathing, strapless and thin. As I removed it in my bedroom I looked at myself in the full length mirror. Some day, soon, I am going to that “Sun Rey” place and get my tan evened out. The contrast of my very fair skin where the bra and bottom covered my boobs and middle and the even tan of the exposed skin drew me to the erogenous zones. My nipples crinkled when I thought that Connie was coming over. And there was a tiny trickle I felt from my labia. The auburn trimmed patch covering my pubic area next drew my fingers. I parted my legs, and standing before the mirror, I slid a finger slowly along my by now swollen lips. Running my middle finger down and back up, the tip of my finger rolled around my now exposed clitoris. I tapped there, and circled the pink nub. A shiver and moan ran through my body as I drew my finger down and curled it upward when the entrance to my vagina sucked at it. Faster and deeper. Over and over. Nipping my finger, I bit my lower lip as a low grade orgasm shook me.
There. If nothing came of it, at least I would not be overly tense when Connie arrived.
I looked at the clock and realized it was 4:55 already. Tossing on my swim suit, I ran for the elevator and saw Connie just as she was standing at the desk.
“Miss Archer assured me she would leave my name for entrance. Please look for a note. Brooks, Constance Brooks, maybe Connie.”
“Back, Walter, back, I say. Stop ogling my guest.”
The 20-something college kid looked at me and said, “I was just seeing if she was properly attired as our bylaws require, Miss Archer.”
Connie was very properly attired in a sturdy two piece yellow swimsuit with a wrap around her waist. She also carried a rather large wicker bag. Probably stuffed with papers and books. I took it from her and asked if there was anything she needed from it. If not, Walter could be trusted to guard it with all three heads. She reached into it and removed a towel and lotion and waited at the door to the beach. I told the kid to be careful, he did not want on my bad list come Christmas. He smiled and laughed, “Sure thing Miss Archer.”
I opened the door for Connie, and she commented, “An unusual perfume, Dee. Perhaps I can borrow it sometime.” She was smiling broadly now, and I shooed her out onto the hot sand.
We swam for about an hour, frolicing like little girls. Splashing each other, sitting and letting the tiny lake waves lap our legs. As her suit became wet I noticed more and more her breasts, and the roundness of her butt. Sitting in the water, our backs to the lowered sun, she asked rather banal questions about the reading for class, nothing really beyond her, she had managed her way through a Masters of Education afterall.
As the waves covered and uncovered our hands, I moved to take her hand in mine and squeezed. She reciprocated. I turned to her and asked, “Are you certain?”
“No. Yes! I don’t know. I never felt this way for another woman before. I could not sleep for three nights. Will you hate me if…if I disappoint you?”
“We need to talk, Connie. And get something to eat. I told you I am a killer cook. Let me show you just how skilled I can be.”
With that, we rose from the water and left the tiny beach.
Walter was there, attentive as always, he had the wicker bag on the counter before we were fully through the doorway. I placed my arm around Connie’s waist as we left the tiny enclosure and walked toward the elevator.
Reaching my floor, dry now, dry enough to feel uncomfortable in the confining swim suits I ushered Connie into my apartment. A leather sofa faces the picture window view of the lake, a teak glass topped coffee table in front of it. My paintings on the walls, and shelf after shelf of books
Connie walked in and looked around, she seemed visibly relieved that there was nothing apparent about my sexuality. Many straight women, and men, I suppose, imagine we lesbians all have huge “What would Xena do” posters and other symbols for our idle amusement.
“Surprised?” I said.
“We could hold a faculty meeting here and not have to move anything,” she said with a laugh.
She looked around and found the door to the half bath.
“I had beter get out of this sandy thing.”
She closed the door and I went to the kitchen to bring out the salads and the pitcher of sangria.
As I bent over to find the cilantro in the crisper, I felt her approach and tentatively touch my buttock through my swimsuit bottom. I pushed back gently, not wishing to spook her. She put both hands on my asscheeks and squeezed.
“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you standing in line at registration Monday night.”
“Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the lesbian,” I said with a laugh as I rose and turned to draw her to me.
She had put on a caftan, and obviously nothing else. Her size D boobs pressed softly but firmly against the the bottom of my breasts in the halter top. There is about 3 inches difference in height, and I lowered my face to her upraised lips. I parted them with my tongue and kissed her with a deep passion. I took possession of her, unleashed the desires she had only dreamt of with that kiss. She ground into me, gasping into my mouth.
“I’m not gay,” she protested, trying to pull away from the kiss, but she remained in my arms.
I brushed the hair from her cheek and said, “No labels. I find you attractive, and would not harm you. But, I know you want this.”
Breaking away, I asked, “Would you like some wine? Dee’s special sangria.”
“No, no alcohol. I do want to discover myself. With you. I don’t want to have any excuses, either. You seduced me with your charm, grace, poise. I want to be able to face myself and not say, ‘it was the wine’ and not the intoxication I feel by your touch, your voice.”
I felt her hands on the string of my halter top, releasing the ties to allow it to fall on the kitchen floor. The white band only accentuated my pink hardened nipples as her eyes raked over my breasts. I reached down and pushed the bikini style swimsuit bottom down. I felt rather than saw her flick the corner of her mouth with her tounge as my auburn, summer trimmed bush was bared. Particles of sand clung to my bush and Connie brushed them off. Her hand lingered and she felt the soft curls, her finger sought the slit between the fur and her eyes widened as she felt another woman, either again, or for the first time, I did not ask.
“Never, never. So soft. So warm.” she murmured.
Her finger curled, she parted my lips and held her hand there…stroking, feeling the flow of my juices. Her finger stiffened and she started to push in and pull out. I closed my eyes and concentrated on her rhythm. Connie dropped to her knees and still moving her finger in and out watched the motion. I could feel her breath ragged against my belly and thighs. I started to move as her finger sank deeper and deeper.
“Taste me, Connie,” I was in control now, releasing her needs, her desires. I placed my hand on her head and urged her closer.
“The clitoris, Connie, taste me there.”
Her finger was sawing in and out as she closed on my partially unhooded clit. She extended her tonguetip and touched me. She licked. Rolled her tongue round and round it. She seemed surprised at how small it is. Her tongue flicked faster and faster, her wrist pumped her finger into my sodden pussy.
I leaned back against the refrigerator and opened my legs, both hands on her head now, grinding against her face and finger
She pulled her finger from me and licked it, tasting the deep aromatic nectar. Her lips found my labia and her tongue snaked between them. Connie sucked and lapped. I was lost in her unskilled want to please. I guided her to those special places I wanted her to find. Tugging on her hair to instruct her to lift her head and lap my clit. Pushing down to feelt her tongue drive into my silky confines. She instinctively sucked, her nose buried in my auburn fur covered mons veneris.
I was quivering uncontrollably. My knees flexed, I rode her face, my calves stroking her full breasts, her nipples points on my bony shins.
She placed her hands on my asscheeks and pulled me tighter to her face as she felt the spasms my inner pussy drove in wave after wave over her burrowing tongue.
Now! A flood released from my inner recesses. I shook. My head tossed and I know it banged against the hard refrigerator door, but I only felt the ineffable waves of orgasm.
Connie rose and held me. She trembled as much as I had.
“Good heavens, Dee. I never….I came. It was so incredible!”
We held each other and kissed. Slow kisses. I licked her face, tasting my juices there before taking her hand and leading her to the living room. The now risen moon big in the still blue sky to the east.
I gathered the hem of her caftan and lifted slowly, teasingly. More teasing myself than her.
Her thighs are rounded, her belly soft and also round. A full brown bush nestled between her thighs. She lifted her arms and as the cloth covered her head her breasts sagged, tiny blue veins calling for my worship. I tossed the caftan aside and held her hands in mine. I pulled her close and dropped my face to her neck, sucking the throbbing neck vein, pulsing with her life.
Her fuller breasts now mashed into mine, our nipples taunt. We moved together, grinding, moving in a sensual dance. I trailed my tongue up her neck to her ear and washed it, wettly, loudly laving the shell, the porch and flicking her earlobe. As I nibbled and sucked her earlobe Connie moaned, and tugged her hands free to pull us together.
I put my hands on her shoulders and she was clearly surprised to discover her knees were lined up with the edge of the leather sofa, her legs folded and I guided her to a sitting position. I followed her down and knelt between her legs, lifting the left to the sofa arm and hungrily eyeing her sodden pussy. I bowed and licked the crease of thigh and mound, I could taste the lake water, and the tiny grains of sand still trapped there. I also inhaled her scent. My lips darted over her rounded belly and sank into her soft flesh.
My left hand ran from knee to mid thigh as my mouth traveled up her belly to her breasts. Her nipples are full, brown, the aureola dark and blue veins visible under her translucent skin. My lips followed one vein to the swell of her breasts and I parted the globes to lick the warmth captured in the valley. Her large boobs touched my cheeks as I shook my head slowly, enjoying the feel of my woman’s flesh. Her left nipple on my cheek, I sucked the right into my mouth and rasped my teeth over it. Connie moaned and writhed. I bit and lifted my head, shaking my head vigorously, sucking all the while.
She was babbling, I listened and heard her whimpering, “Yes, Dee, yes. Make love to me. Take me.”
I kissed her soft rounded belly and asked in a hushed voice, “What do you want, Connie? Tell me. Ask me for what you want most just now.”
“Make love to me. Kiss my vagina.”
“Not clear, sweetheart. Say it. Tell me what you really, really want.”
“Do me!”
“Ummmm? cupping her mound and sliding just fingertips between her lips, “I don’t understand.”
“Damn you! Eat my pussy!”
The reserved professional was now a quivering mass of nerve endings and sensuality.
I moved my lips to her now puffy and swollen pussy lips. I drew her scent into my nose before lapping from just below her clit to her vagina. I rolled my tongue and then relaxed it as her muscles loosened and allowed me access to her inner walls. The taste was strong, maddingly sensual, there was also the hint of an acrid bead deep inside as I tickled her urethra with my tonguetip. Connie lifted her back as I sank my tongue deeper than she had felt such a rubbery touch before. I nodded my head, faster and faster, I felt her writhe. She groaned, moaned, cried out.
“Oh God! I’m cumming! Cumming. A woman is making me cum and I love the …..” her words became a gibberish as she held my face to her grotto.
Not being satisfied, I rose and scissored my legs and dropped my still liquid pussy to her’s.
I leaned forward and ground into her.
Pussy to pussy.
Wet, thick labia kissing.
Writhing. My boobs shaking.
Connie looked with glazed eyes as I rode her.
Our disparate colored bushes matted, rough as they ground against the ultrasensitive inner pussy walls. I drove against her, her big breasts flopping on her chest. As she became aware of it she lifted her hands and rolled her thumbs over both large brown nipples, she pinched them. A silent scream rose in her throat as I pounded against her. I held her hips and pulled her up to my sodden pussy. I fucked her as only a woman can fuck a woman. Totally, body, mind, soul, heart.
I slumped against her. She held me as we shook with a thousand tiny aftershocks.
We kissed until it was fully dark in the room. The moonlight the only illumination.
I pulled away from Connie and sat, naked, breathing normally once more and said, “Now would you like something to eat? I told you I am quite skilled.”
(Thank you for your readers response to my previous submissions…even for the tacit thumbs down on some. I will use less French in future submissions, the language, that is. As always, an unequivical Thank You to patricia51, my friend, and mentor. Life deals us each a hand to play, some let us look at their’s for help.)