Ay: Mayıs 2023

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Note 1: Of course everyone in this story is at least 18.

Edit Update: A massive edit of the story occurred in April of 2018 by Tex Beethoven (the original was never edited by anyone other than yours truly) and Wayne.

Note 2: If you want to know how eighteen-year-old babysitter Jenny became a submissive slave to her neighbor Megan, please read Chapter One. Without further ado, here’s part two for you:

Bedding the Babysitter Ch 02:

Last night I had completed the seduction and domination of my eighteen-year-old babysitter. Today, a Saturday, I hoped to begin to make her greatest fantasies come true. So after my ex-husband (the less said about him, the better) came and picked up our son for his customary every-second-weekend custody time, I msn’d Jenny. It was just after lunchtime.

DrMeg: How is Jenny this fine afternoon?

Jenny78ph: Very well, Mistress.

DrMeg: That is good to hear. No regrets about last night’s events?

Jenny78ph: None! 🙂

DrMeg: Ready for your training to continue?

Jenny78ph: Yes, Mistress.

DrMeg: Are you dressed already?

Jenny78ph: Of course.

DrMeg: Come on over, we will research Karen before we head out to begin your transformation.

Jenny78ph: Transformation?

DrMeg: Of course. Your new look. We are going to make you irresistible to Karen.

Jenny78ph: But what if she doesn’t like girls?

DrMeg: Let’s find out.

Jenny78ph: OK.

DrMeg: So get over here right away.

Jenny78ph: Yes, Mistress.

Jenny arrived wearing the exact same outfit as yesterday. An adorably hot plaid but scandalously short school skirt, a white school blouse that showcased her nice perky little breasts, dark mocha thigh high stockings and, sadly, runners. I led her upstairs and slid out of my black leather skirt to reveal my black silk panties and matching black thigh highs. I requested, “Jenny, will you please come sit under my desk and pleasure me while I research your little dream cheerleader for you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Jenny replied. She quickly crawled into place and went right to work with her eager little tongue as I began typing and clicking.

I gave out a soft moan and asked, “Jenny, what’s Karen’s last name?”

Jenny looked up at me from between my legs, so cute, and answered, “Pepper.” She then went back to pleasing my already damp pussy. I requested, “Jenny dear, please go nice and slow; I don’t want to climax anytime soon, I just want to feel stimulated and pleasant while I do this research for you; so try and emulate Sade songs being sung into my pussy.”

I believe she said, “Yes Mistress, I can do that,” as a response but it was incoherent, her suddenly singing tongue busy pouring a mix of misty melodies into my cute cunt.

As I researched, I learned that Karen came from a well-to-do family, lived in a massive upscale house and was an only child. On Facebook (on which, by the way, you should protect yourself much better than most people do) I learned she was a redhead with green eyes, she was short at 5’2″, but from her photos her breasts appeared to be quite large. I then created a new Facebook account under the fake name of Sarah Conners and requested her to be her friend, with a note explaining that I was a girl researching ‘Cheerleaders’ Impact on the Student Experience’ (again, you really should protect yourself from online predators such as myself). Not surprisingly, she accepted me five minutes later. I created a questionnaire for her and sent it to her, hoping she would respond. As I waited, I read her wall and learned some more about her. Her tone was often very sarcastic, she hated her mother, she loved getting compliments… revelled in them really… and could be quite spiteful. She frequently posted comments such as “Mrs. Wicks is a complete bitch” or “Did you see what Sara wore today, it made her look even fatter than she already is, if that is possible.” After reading her wall I looked forward to attempting to seduce her. I also learned she had a part-time job working at Mill’s Boutique (the best and most expensive women’s clothing store in town) and based on her status, she was at work right now.

All this time Jenny was slowly licking my pussy, nibbling jazz ballads ever so gently on my pussy lips. I moaned and said, “Good girl, my little virtuoso pussy pleaser. Now please slide a finger in your mistress’s pussy and finger fuck me as you lick me a bit more up tempo, perhaps like ‘Smooth Operator’; I’d like to come soon.” She obeyed, faster and with more syncopation, and I just leaned back and enjoyed her up-tempo stimulation. When I was close, I grabbed her head and pushed it into my pussy and just held her pretty face there as Ümraniye Escort I semi-quavered through a small but intense orgasm. As I regained my equilibrium, Jenny still nestled between my legs, I noticed that Karen had already responded to my questions; she must be having a slow workday. I pulled Jenny up beside me to share my results inviting her, “Let’s see how your little dream cheerleader responded to my questions.”

This survey is completely confidential and will be tabulated for inclusion in an article I am preparing about ‘Cheerleaders’ Impact on the Student Experience’ for a national magazine. (Please answer all questions frankly and honestly, as your responses are integral to the validity of this article and for my analysis of the vital role that cheerleaders play in our secondary schools):

Name: Karen Pepper

Grade: 12

Age: 18

Cheerleader Position: Captain

Years as Cheerleader: 4

Do you approve of hazing within cheerleader squads? Of course. Like our sports teams, you must earn your place among us. We have a hazing week that includes a variety of tasks like making out with one of the ugliest boys in our school, attending gym class without any bra or panties, a competition for who can flirt with the most teachers of either sex (each acceptable flirtation to be witnessed by at least one senior cheerleader), stealing an item at the mall, and we always finish the week by requiring the new cheerleaders to imbibe alcohol while making out with each other and being filmed.

What is your favourite perk from being a cheerleader? I can’t choose only one, since there so many. I already have a scholarship lined up for next year’s college, I can have any hot boy I want, I get to wear my outfit anywhere I want and I am treated like royalty by most of my peers and teachers.

Do you feel you receive special treatment from your teachers because you are a cheerleader? Sure. All I ever have to do for the male teachers is give them my puppy-dog look or showcase my legs a little extra and I usually get what I want… actually, make that ‘always’. The female teachers are a bit tougher, but very few want to mess with us cheerleaders as we have a reputation for being quite influential and powerful.

How do you select your squad? It is based on looks, fitness and social status. This may sound conceited, but if you are not attractive, sexy-looking and well-connected, you probably should not aspire to becoming a cheerleader. On occasion we take on a girl without great social standing if we think we can train her, but usually this is not worth the effort as they never really fit in with our social circle. I know this is elitist, but when you’re the best, elitism is an asset.

Some schools are cancelling cheerleading programs because of the rise of teenage pregnancies; is that a concern for your squad? God no. I am not saying we don’t have sex, but we are all on the pill. As captain I insist on it, and our past captains have too.

Last question, is there any lesbian activity among your squad? Um…yes. Between cheerleading camp, nights in hotels during competitions and post-game celebrations there is often a fair amount of lezbo action. Plus, as girls dating incompetent teenage boys, although my boyfriend is in college, sometimes the only way to really get off is from a woman’s touch.

Any other comments: Please send me a copy of your published article. Kisses.

Thanks for participating in this survey!!!

“Well Jenny, I think it’s time to go shopping,” I said as I got dressed. She followed me out the door and we headed to the mall. I could see Jenny getting nervous as we arrived at our first stop…a beauty salon. We went inside and I had them give Jenny the full treatment. She received a leg wax, a smooth pussy shave (a waxing wouldn’t have allowed her much intimate fun for a few days), a manicure, a pedicure, a tanning session, a facial and finally she got a new hairdo, followed by having her make-up done.

When Jenny looked in the mirror, now dressed again in her modified schoolgirl outfit, she looked like a confident college girl on the prowl. She smiled, but asked guiltily, “How can I ever repay you for all this?”

“Don’t worry, believe it or not you deserve it, and this won’t cost either of us any money,” I responded slyly.

“Really?” Jenny asked, confused, her pure innocence still so charmingly adorable.

“Really,” I confirmed. “But I think it is time to pay for your makeover.” I grabbed her hand and led her to the private area behind the public salon. As we reached the head office, I walked in and greeted the owner, who was my best friend since college Krystal, giving her a hug and a tender kiss.

Krystal at almost six feet, Ümraniye Escort Bayan towered over Jenny as she walked up to her and said, “So this is your new recruit. She’s very pretty.”

Jenny stuttered, “T-t-thanks.” Her hands trembled slightly as she fidgeted with her newly manicured hands.

Krystal put two fingers under Jenny’s chin and lifted her face up so they were looking eye to eye, although Jenny was gazing up and Krystal down. “Jenny,” she began, “Every girl who works here is a submissive slave of mine; does that surprise you?”

Jenny was attempting to process this information while Krystal returned behind her desk and continued, “For example, your manicure and pedicure were done by Carley and Jen. Those two were high school best friends I met at a club one night who both ended up pleasing me and another friend of mine in the ladies room. Your waxing was done by Kiako, who is a fourth-year med student originally from Japan and easily one of the prettiest girls in the entire world, although she doesn’t think so. She is also the most obedient little slave I have ever had. I picked her up in a movie theatre during an arts film I attended one day. Halfway through the film I changed seats to sit beside her (there were perhaps six people in the entire theatre) and without a word I placed my hand on her leg. When she didn’t react negatively to my initial advance, I simply whispered in her ear, ‘Open your legs, honey.’ She did so without hesitation and I fingered her to orgasm right there in the theatre. She came quickly and loudly, so loud the few other people in attendance were turning around to gawk at this cover-girl-appearing Japanese woman cumming on my fingers. I then sucked her juices off and whispered to her, ‘You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and I want to see you again. If you want that too, here is my card; be at my salon tomorrow at 6:00 in the evening.’ I kissed her, handed her my card and left. Of course she showed up the next evening, and has now become a great little cunt pleaser.

The others have stories too, my sweet, and you will learn them over time if you wish. I happen to have a part-time job opening here as salon facilitator; you would answer the phone, book appointments, work the till, do final clean-up and so forth. Are you interested?”

Jenny’s face lit up like a flare as she replied, “That would be great!”

Krystal walked around to sit on the front of her desk, raised her skirt and said, “Excellent! Are you ready for your first session of on-the-job training?”

I laughed, Jenny blushed, but since I obviously approved, she walked up to Krystal and knelt in front of her before requesting timidly, “Ma’am, may I please be of service?” Receiving an affirmative nod from Krystal, Jenny leaned into Krystal’s completely shaved pussy and began pleasing her new employer as I looked on. Partway through, I knelt behind my little vixen, gently squeezed her ass and slowly slid a finger inside her cunt, providing her with some encouragement but not getting her off. Jenny eventually brought Krystal to an orgasm and I pulled my finger out of her wet pussy.

“Well, I definitely think you are hired,” Krystal beamed as she stood up. Can you be here for training next Friday evening?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jenny responded, her lips shiny with love juice before she licked them clean.

“Great,” said Krystal. “Be here at 5:00. We will train you till 9:00 and then you can attend our weekly Friday night social, which usually goes quite late,” she paused for emphasis, “if you get my drift.”

“Oh, I think I do,” replied Jenny, willing but still slightly nervous.

Krystal gave a little chuckle as she said, “Alright, go see Kirsten again and get your make-up touched up. You look like you just ate somebody’s pussy.”

I laughed and chit-chatted with Krystal as Jenny got a quick touch-up. As I returned to the front, Kirsten was just finishing and I heard the fortyish make-up artist telling Jenny, “I can’t wait to eat that young pussy of yours, Jenny.”

I chuckled as I escorted a newly drop-dead-gorgeous but completely red-faced Jenny back to the car. As I pulled away from the curb I teased, “Well Jenny, two pussies in two days, you’re turning into quite the little lesbian slut aren’t you?”

Jenny probably would have blushed even more if that were physically possible, as she responded, “I can’t believe I just licked a complete stranger.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” Jenny responded dutifully. “I just wanted to make her happy; I always hate being a disappointment.”

I sighed slightly. “Oh Jenny, we really need to work on your self-esteem. You are a beautiful girl, a smart girl and a very nice girl. Don’t you know that? Krystal doesn’t hire just anyone, she saw something special in you, just like I do.”

“Thanks,” Jenny responded, although her tone indicated she didn’t completely believe me.

“We’re here,” I announced as we arrived at our next stop, Mill’s Boutique. I assumed Escort Ümraniye Jenny had no idea who worked here.

“Mill’s Boutique?” Jenny queried as we arrived. “Isn’t this that place where the rich and famous shop?”

“I suppose it is. Come on sweetie, I have a surprise for you.”

We got out of the car and walked towards the front door. But I paused before we entered and cautioned Jenny, “Before we go in I should explain that once we go in there, there is probably no turning back.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you can continue coming over to my place no matter what happens here, and you have a job with Krystal so you will still have lots of opportunities to be submissive, but if you walk through these doors and I proceed with my plan, you will almost certainly end up with a reputation in your school as a lesbian. Are you ok with that?”

Jenny tried to register what I was saying, “Um, probably, but I don’t understand.”

“Do you know who works here?”

“No.”

“Karen.”

Jenny’s face went white.

“If you go in there, I shall treat you as my lesbian slave in front of her and you must obey me absolutely and without hesitation.”

“Oh,” Jenny whispered.

“Jenny, I don’t want to do anything to you that you aren’t ready for. So if you feel this will be too much for you, just tell me no; I’m not ordering you to do this and you won’t hurt my feelings or disappoint me. But if you walk through this door and do everything I tell you, I am almost positive you’ll be eating Karen’s pussy very, very soon.”

Jenny considered my speech at length, really thought through it, and finally replied, surprisingly upbeat and thoroughly, “I trust you, Mistress. I will never refuse anything you ask of me and if you think this is a good idea, then I do too. As you say, I’m not obeying you in doing this, I’m right with you. So let’s go!”

“Great, Jenny!” I enthused, “Let’s go have some fun!”

I took her hand and we walked into Mill’s Boutique. Now I should say that my divorce as well as my job keeps me financially well off; I’m not a millionaire, but I do live a very comfortable life, so I could afford the absurd prices this boutique charged. The shop today wasn’t that busy, with only a couple of people browsing through clothing. One was a slightly overweight girl with someone I assumed was her mother, looking at wedding dresses; the other was obviously a trophy wife looking at cocktail dresses and treating her saleswoman with unjustified distain. I didn’t see Karen at first, which worried me a bit as we walked over to the cocktail dress section. As I was looking around, we were fortunate enough to have Karen come over to assist us.

“Good afternoon ma’am, “Karen greeted me politely, dressed in a classy black skirt, nude pantyhose, three-inch black boots and a white blouse. “May I help you with anything?”

I smiled and said, “Yes, you probably can. We’re attending a special gala tonight for charity and I need an outfit for myself and for my friend here. The outfits must look sexy, but not slutty.”

Karen asked for our sizes and left to select some outfits. I looked at Jenny and asked, “Are you ready to begin Operation Karen?”

Jenny laughed, as my question seemed to break the tension, although she fretted, slightly hurt, “Karen didn’t even notice me.”

“Well you do look very different from your usual appearance. Even though you’re still dressed in kind of a school uniform, you’ve gone from your normal conservative unflattering look to much more of a revealing, sexy look. Plus with your fresh make-up and hair, you could easily pass for twenty-one, which we will attempt tonight,” I said teasingly.

“What’s tonight?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out later,” I responded coyly. “I enjoy surprising you.” At this moment I saw Karen returning with a few dresses and announced in a hushed voice, “Operation Karen is underway.”

Karen arrived to find both of us laughing merrily and said, “I chose a few dresses I think you might like.”

I tried on three different dresses that were all stylish and of good quality, but not what I wanted. So I said to Karen, “Honey, these are all ok, but I need something that will have every girl there checking me out.”

Karen showed just the slightest bit of shock but regained her composure quickly before she offered, “I think I may have just the thing.”

Karen left us again and I said to Jenny, “This is going to be easier than I thought.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Just watch. But now I need to know whether you want her to be your little slave or would prefer to be hers.”

“I want to be her slave,” she replied shyly but without hesitation.

“I thought you might,” I acknowledged just as Karen returned. She handed me a gold gown that was long enough to hide the tops of my thigh high stockings, but with a generous enough slit to display them occasionally for anyone paying attention. I gave her an inappropriate kiss on the cheek giving her a start, and said, “This looks excellent.” I took it from her and went into the change room. After donning the dress, I came out and studied myself in the mirror. I spent a bit of time analyzing the outfit before appraising, “It’s nice, but these black stockings don’t match the dress. Jenny, may I try your dark-colored stockings?”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Vivian sat on the side of the hospital bed, shoulders hunched, and stared down at her feet. Her straight black hair hung around her face, shrouding the rest of the room from view. Darren, her brother, had assured her she’d come in wearing those clunky, thick-heeled boots, but she didn’t remember buying them. A lot of things from the last two months were fuzzy like that. She had to admit they were very much her style, but it was still unsettling.

Her brother sat quietly in the wooden arm chair across from her and stared down at his hands. “The girls are really excited,” he said, for at least the second time. “Last night, they kept asking me what time we’d be getting home.”

“Timesit?” Vivian slurred. She pinched her face and shook her head. It sounded wrong. She hated talking.

“Just after eleven.”

Vivian nodded, simply glad she hadn’t needed to repeat herself. “Thangs.” She turned slightly, at the sound of footsteps, and wrinkled her nose.

“Okay,” the nurse said brightly, as she pushed a wheelchair into the room. “We’ve got everything we need. You’re all checked out! Did you have any last questions?”

Vivian pointed to a pair of crutches pitched against the wall, which her brother had brought, and shook her head.

“I know,” the nurse said, nodding, “but it’s hospital policy. I’m sorry. Gotta use the wheelchair until we get you outside.”

After a grudging nod Vivian set her arms against the bed, to prepare herself, and before she got her feet down her brother was by her side.

“I gotcha,” he said, as he steadied her shoulder.

“Mmmfine,” she grunted. Her knees picked a truly awful moment to buckle, however, and when more than half of her weight was being supported by him she had to grudgingly add, “Thangyou.”

Darren smiled and nodded, and after a few more excruciating seconds in which her body continued to fail her, Vivian slumped into the wheelchair. Her brother hoisted the shoulder bag that contained the possessions she’d had on her along with the various accoutrements Darren had brought over the last week to enable his extended visits: chargers, pillows, bottles, and the like. It also held the fearsome stack of paperwork she’d been given. She’d had difficulty making her eyes focus to read any of it, and listening to anyone for more than a minute at a time had been beyond her.

“We’re gonna miss having you around,” the nurse said softly, as she pushed Vivian into the elevator.

The chair jostled her as it went over the lip. Vivian grunted and nodded.

“I’ll tell you what. Patients like you, that come in as bad as you were? And then seeing you turn it around, little by little? It’s one of those things that makes my job so rewarding.”

Vivian grunted again.

“Watching you struggle and fight, and claw your way back? It’s inspiring. Everyone up on the coma ward was pulling for you every step of the way. They all wanted to come down and clap for you when you got released, but I said you’d hate that.”

The elevator dinged as the doors opened onto the ground floor, and Darren hustled out ahead of them. She watched him go with a nagging ache in her chest. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want him to leave her alone. He’s just going to get the car, she thought to herself, and you’re not alone.

“You’re going to be picking up your PT at Therapydia, right?”

Sounds formed in the back of Vivian’s throat as she tried to speak, and she had to cough before she could say, “YesonTuesday.” She couldn’t figure out why it sounded right in her head and wrong on her tongue, but everyone had assured her that, with therapy, it was only a matter of time until her speech returned.

The number of appointments, follow-ups, and referrals that had been scheduled for her was as staggering as it was terrifying. She tried not to think about it.

“That’s great. We send a lot of our patients to them. They’re wonderful. Do you know what location?”

Vivian shook her head.

“That’s okay. It’s just a great organization.” They pulled out into the damp September air and stopped on the curb. After taking a moment to set the brakes, the nurse came around to squat next to her. She had short, brown hair in a pixie cut that framed a blinding smile, and she looked a little bit younger than Vivian herself. “You know, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Dysarthria is extremely common in coma patients. We see difficulty with speech all the time.”

“Iknow,” Vivian whispered, averting her eyes.

“Okay, well, let me give you a piece of advice. Try not to use non-verbal communication, especially when you’re somewhere that you won’t be judged. When you’re around family or friends… you know, people you feel safe around? Your physical therapists too. Use that time to talk as much as you can. Babble if you have to. The more you do it, the faster it’ll come back.”

“Okay.” Even when the words came out right, they still sounded wrong to Vivian. They sounded flat. Uninflected. Empty. “I’lltry.”

“I Kadıköy Escort know you will.” The nurse beamed at her, and gently laid her hand over Vivian’s. “Same thing goes for your arm and your legs. Use them as much as you can. They aren’t broken? Or damaged? It’s just that your brain has forgotten how to use them a little.”

“I’mscaredit… itwon’tcomeback.”

“That’s the most I’ve heard you say all week.” The nurse beamed even brighter. “You’re gonna do great things.”

Darren’s old blue pickup rattled and wheezed along the glistening blacktop, slick from the morning rain, and stopped in front of her. This time, Vivian let them assist her without being an ass about it, knowing that getting up into the cab of his work truck was going to be a task. It might have only sat a handful of inches higher than a normal car, but it might as well have been Mt. Everest for all she could scale it on her own.

Eventually, after an embarrassing amount of cajoling, Vivian found herself strapped in and settled, and gave a grim wave to the nurse as she went back inside with the wheelchair.

“All right,” Darren said, as he jumped up into the driver’s seat. “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

Vivian fought down a groan, knowing that he meant well and that this was just the beginning of what was sure to be months of people doting and checking on her. “I’mokay.” God, maybe years.

“Excellent. Where to first?”

“Bank,” Vivian said.

“What’s that going to look like?”

“Idon’tknowbut…” It felt like she ran out of air every time she wanted to talk. The words came out in a shambling tumble, but her tongue and lips kept forming the words as fast as she could think of them. It was hard to pace her breathing as well. “I’mgonnaowealot. Tohospital. Idon’thaveinsurance.”

Darren sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth and nodded. “Yeah. That’s gonna be tough. We’ll have to…” His expression hardened. As his twin, Vivian was quite sure the next thing out of his mouth was going to be ‘see if we can help’, just as she was sure his brain had caught up to his mouth before he promised anything. It was a deep shock to the system when he’d told her she could stay with him when she got out of the hospital because his wife, Vivian’s sister-in-law, had always been very vocal about her misgivings toward Vivian.

In hindsight, those misgivings were fair to say the least.

Instead, Darren just gave her his brave smile and nodded.

***

The light drizzle had picked up again. Vivian stood, supported by her crutches, next to her brother as he held the umbrella. There was still a telltale lump in the dirt in front of them, where the sod had not yet settled completely, but Vivian was staring at the headstone behind that. She’d wanted to ask if the ceremony had a closed casket, and given how severe her own injuries had been that seemed likely, but she was pretty sure Darren hadn’t been there to see.

Instead, she asked, “DidyoulikeKevin?”

Darren sputtered and looked sideways at her. “I, uh… I only ever met him… what, once?”

“Idon’tthinkI… likedhim.”

Darren chuckled nervously. “I don’t, uh… I don’t believe that standing over his grave and badmouthing him is going to, like, invoke his ghostly wrath or anything, but it’s also bad form, Viv.”

Vivian shrugged, but since nearly all her weight was resting on her shoulders and the crutches beneath them it looked more like her body collapsed on itself somewhat. “Hewasfunanda… anda… ” She had to stop to cough again, and her lungs burned from the effort. “Goodsinger. Hewasagoodsinger… buthechangedour… our… sound. Kindofajerktoo.”

“Didn’t you hire him?”

Vivian shook her head. “Lucia.” It sounded wrong when she said it, like lew-shuh, so she repeated it and tried harder to enunciate. “Lucia…broughthimin. Ididn’tsayno.”

“Did she ever come to visit? While you were laid up?”

Vivian stared downward. “Shedoesn’tlikehospitals.”

“Yeah, but, like, aren’t you two close?”

She said nothing.

Darren nodded. “Mhm. Yeah. Hey, speaking of awkward conversations, back there at the bank you had—”

“Idon’tknow,” Vivian said. “Idon’tremember.”

“You had, like, ten thousand dollars in your account.”

Vivian shook her head. “Idon’tremember. But…”

“…But?”

Vivian rolled her eyes. She wanted to get defensive, and snap at him for rushing her. She needed to use a whole breath to get out half of a sentence, but that wasn’t why she paused and she knew it. “Probablysoldcoke.”

“Oh,” he said, head rearing back slightly. “That… That makes some sense.” When Vivian looked at him sideways, he continued by saying, “I wasn’t gonna say anything until you were a little further along, but… when I went to your apartment to pick up those clothes for you, the place had been trashed. Someone took a lot of your stuff.”

Vivian sighed, shrugged, and turned back Kadıköy Escort Bayan toward the stone.

“No, I mean, like, a lot of your stuff. I didn’t see any of your basses, or your amps. I hadn’t been there in a while, but I remember you having more gear.”

“It’sfine,” she said. “Can’tdoanythingabout… aboutthatnow. Gottafocusonother… other… things.”

“Do you think someone is gonna come after you for that money?”

She shrugged again. “Notlikemetonot…payupfront. Triednottoowe…anyone. Probablyunrelated.”

“I don’t want to be a jerk about this, but if you’re gonna be around the girls I’ve gotta know—”

“I’mdonewithallthat,” Vivian said. “Detoxedinthecoma. Neveragain. Thatwashisdoing. HegotLuciaonit. Iusedittonumb… butI’mdone.”

“I believe you,” he said, and he sounded like he meant it.

Her eyes never left the letters carved into the marble. “That’swhyIwantedto… tocome. Thinkapartofmy… ofmylifedied… withhim. It’sgonnastayburied.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Darren said softly.

Suddenly fearful that she was sending the wrong message, Vivian half-turned and said, “Imadesomebadchoices. Badbad. That’sonme. Itwasn’thisfaultthatI…” Her throat seized up entirely. She nodded appreciatively when he handed her a tissue from his pocket, and she tried to dab at her eyes but needed to switch to use her right hand.

“Wasn’t he the one driving?”

She nodded again. “That’swhattheysaid. Yeahbut… Ineedto…Ineedtoown… whatIdid. Mypart.” Her chest heaved with the effort of saying so much, but it felt good to be talking again after so long. “Iwasafuckup. Momwasright.”

Darren moved in front of her, and her head settled onto his shoulder as he hugged her.

“I’msorry.”

“You never need to apologize,” he whispered. “Not to me.”

“YeahbutCarly. Shehatesme.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“Shedoesn’tlikeme. Isshemadatyou… aboutmestaying?”

“Don’t worry about Carly. I can handle her being a little mad if it means I get my sister back.”

Vivian nodded slowly, and with a hesitant effort moved her arms out from the crutches and around him. “Imissedyou.”

“Missed you too.”

***

“We’re home!” Darren yelled, as he opened the door.

“Aunt Vee!” came the two-part harmony from deeper within the house.

Vivian gritted her teeth as she navigated the steps, and braced herself. Tiny, thudding footsteps echoed through the halls, coming closer and closer until her nieces Ashley, age four, and Tiffany, age six, exploded up the stairs like a pair of blonde bouncy balls.

“Aunt Vee!” they cried, cacophonously. “Aunt Vee’s here! Mommy! Aunt Vee’s here!”

Darren slid in front of her at the last moment, scooping up both of his daughters in his arms. “Whoa, girls. We talked about this!”

“Sorry!” they yelped, nearly in unison.

“We’ll be gentle,” Tiffany insisted. “I promise!”

Ashley said, “Bluebeary wants to give you a hug,” before thrusting out her well-worn barely-blue-anymore teddy bear.

Vivian settled her weight onto the crutches, and was able to slip an arm around each of their heads. It was the most she could do as they crowded around her. Their idea of a gentle hug varied considerably. The younger daughter, less familiar with the concept of doing any less than her absolute best at anything ever, gave Vivian’s good leg a squeeze around the thigh with a faded blue stuffed bear in between them for buffer. Tiffany curled an arm around Vivian’s hip.

“Missedyousquirts.”

“What are you saying?” Ashley looked up curiously, and then squeaked. “Why is your eye weird?”

“Aaa-aash,” her sister hissed, rebukingly. “That’s not nice!”

“IsaidImissedyousquirts.”

Ashley blinked and took a step backwards, clutching her stuffed bear tightly to her chest, and Vivian’s heart sank at her stricken expression. While much of the bruising and swelling around her face had gone down during her hospital stay, there was still an ugly cut at her right temple that crossed just above the eyebrow, and the normally-white sclera was still a darkened red.

“Girls,” Darren said, as he dropped down to one knee, “we talked about this. Aunt Vee got hurt, and she’s still getting better. There’s no reason to be scared.”

“But her eye,” Ashley insisted fearfully.

“Stop being such a baby,” Tiffany moaned.

“I’m not a baby!” Ashley shouted. “I’m four!”

Darren gave her an apologetic smile and picked the little one up. “Come on, munchkin. Did you make any drawings while I was gone?”

“I did!” she exclaimed, her attention immediately and utterly diverted. “I wanna show you! I drew you and a dolphin swimming in the clouds!”

“Aww cool! Dolphins are awesome!”

Tiffany waited patiently as Darren carried her little sister downstairs, and then bit her lip and looked up. “Aunt Vee,” she whispered, “I couldn’t understand what you said either.”

“Mmmm…” Vivian twisted Escort Kadıköy her lips and frowned. “Missed… you,” she said, using an entire short breath for each word.

“Oooooooh.”

“Ican’t… can’tenunciate.” When her six-year old niece just stared at her, Vivian added, “Can’ttalkgood.”

The little girl, spitting image of her father but for the blonde locks, chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “Will you get better?”

“Yes.”

“I understood that!”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Good.”

“Hello Vivian,” came a cool voice, from slightly further down the hall.

Vivian nodded, and then cursed herself for not answering verbally. “HelloCarly.”

“You look like shit.”

“Moo-ooom!”

Carly said, “I’m an adult, sweetie. I can say that. You can’t.” Darren’s wife, Vivian’s sister-in-law, tilted her head and pointed with her jaw. “We’re gonna set you up in Tiffany’s room.”

“Thangyou,” she said, as she gripped her crutches and started moving.

Carly smiled in response, but it did not touch her eyes.

Vivian slurred, “Gonnaliedownforabit,” as she inched her way down the hall to the first bedroom.

Carly followed behind her, arms folded the entire time, and leaned against the doorframe as Vivian made her way to the side of the bed.

“I’llbeokay.”

Carly puckered her lips as she nodded and closed the door, and Vivian collapsed inelegantly onto the dark purple comforter. As she turned, the crutches slipped from her grip and clattered noisily to the floor. Out in the hallway, she heard Carly groan.

“Okayokay,” Vivian said, as loudly as she could manage. “Okay. I’mokay.” She slid along the edge of the mattress, picked up each crutch, and laid them carefully against the wall where she would be able to reach them afterwards.

“Mommy,” Tiffany said, out in the hall, in hushed tones Vivian could barely hear. “Was Aunt Vee acting… different?”

“Yeah,” Carly said flatly, “because she isn’t high.”

“Oh,” the older daughter replied, sounding confused.

She didn’t bother to remove her shoes, or her hoodie. With effort, Vivian simply rolled onto her side, closed her eyes, and curled into a ball.

***

The first thing she noticed, as she got out of her brother’s truck, was the sound. Even from the back of the lot, she could hear The Fist Amendment ripping through their set. It was almost offensively loud, and it was a shock that volume was bothering her.

Her brother looked at her over the hood of his truck and raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know TFA was playing at this thing!”

Vivian would have shrugged if using the crutches didn’t rely so heavily on her shoulders and upper arms. Instead, she said, “Friends. Ifilledin… For Their Bassist… A Few Times.” She held up her arm and twisted her hand back and forth. “Sprained Wrist.”

Her enunciations were more severe than they needed to be. Even after two weeks of talking until her throat hurt, her speech was only mildly improved. She’d even started giving voice to her inner monologue when she was alone, just for the practice, and had reached her first goal the day before wherein neither of her nieces had asked her to repeat herself for the whole day. She still sometimes found her words tumbling out together, but she usually caught herself shortly after.

“You played with these guys?” he said, eyes widening. “You never told me that!”

She twisted her lips, but forced herself to make eye contact when she said, “We… Weren’t… Speaking… At The Time.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nnnn… Not Your… Fault.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

“Do You Like Them?”

“Yeah,” he said, as they made their way slowly through the lot; her as fast as she could hobble along while he kept pace beside her. “Yeah, I’ve been to a few shows over at the Grand.”

“They Were A Bit More… MmmMetal… Than I Play… But The Showswere… Good.”

“What do you guys sound like?” Then he frowned and corrected himself. “Did you sound like?”

“Punk. Rocka… Rockabilly. Fast. Loose. Better Live Than… “

“I gotcha,” he said, graciously stepping in when her voice failed.

As they got closer it became apparent the park was packed, and that gave her incredibly mixed emotions. They eased past the ticket window just as The Fist Amendment wrapped up the outro of their usual encore song to thunderous applause and cheers. A bearded man ran onto the stage and took the mic.

“Yeah,” said the man, whom she was pretty sure she recognized. It was hard to be sure. “The Fist Amendment, everybody!” The crowd roared again, and kept it up for far longer than it took the four men to hustle offstage. “Yeah! Alright! Now, I keep getting asked this, so I’m gonna say it again. 100% of the ticket sales, and 100% of the proceeds from the food and merch, folks. It’s all gonna help.” He pointed at the two big food trucks parked alongside the crowd. “Big thanks to Taco No You Didn’t and Yeti Burgers. Give them a big hand, folks.”

Lots of applause. Lots of cheering. Vivian was surprised she didn’t want to hide, per se, but she also didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Darren, seeming to notice her quasi-discomfort, huddled in close to her, and the two of them stood a little ways behind the main crowd.

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Before I started dating my husband, I didn’t know much in terms of sex. I had one serious boyfriend, and he ended up being gay. Not many boys had kissed me either, so to say I was inexperienced was an understatement.

In the summer of 2010, I let myself loose. I went to parties, I drank, I danced with strangers and ended up making out with a person or two almost every weekend. And then, a very special night happened.

I was invited by my friend Kristy over for a sleepover. She and I had been friends for a couple of years and it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for us to sleep over at each other’s places for multiple days in a row. This time was no exception.

When I arrived, she invited me in and we immediately began the night with a glass of wine. For some reason, tonight felt different. I didn’t know why, but it just did.

Kristy was by no means unattractive. She was around 5 foot 5 inches, built from years of playing multiple sports, with long pale blonde hair that reached just the top of her perky little breasts. I had always been jealous of her body and frequently admired how her pale skin always looked beautiful with her bright blue eyes.

Compared to me, she was a goddess.

I stood at 5 foot 7, a little more chubby than most, but still pretty toned from weight lifting, playing softball, and running. I was tan from a summer full of lifeguarding and softball tournaments, and at the time, I had light brown hair that reached my downturned nipples. My breasts had always been large, as well as my ass. To most, I was considered “curvy”. To me, I was just plain.

Kristy took my hand after we finished our first glasses of wine and led me to her basement, where her big screen TV was set up for a marathon. As soon as we plopped down, bottle of wine in between us, she pressed the button on the remote and our show came on.

The opening theme for Avatar the Last Airbender came on and I laughed, “I can’t believe you have these on DVD! I haven’t watched this in years!”

Kristy turned to me and flashed me a mischievous smile. “Did you ever finish the show?”

I shook my head. “No. I never had the time. What happened?”

She Bostancı Escort took a drink from her glass and then replied, “Aang beats the Fire Lord, Zuko and Katara beat Azula, Toph, Sokka, and Suki take down a fleet of airships, and Zuko becomes Fire Lord. Oh, and Aang and Katara get together at the end!”

I spit out a bit of my wine and pouted. “Man! I wanted Zuko and Katara to get together! They’re so hot!”

Kristy laughed and shoved me playfully on the shoulder. “There’s always fanfiction, love.”

I gave her a wink and then turned back to the TV. As the show played, we continued to drink. By the time our third bottle of wine was empty, we were both falling on our asses laughing at the silly jokes made from the cartoon.

I stood up and mimicked a character for a while, and Kristy giggled as I strutted around the room like I was dancing. But while doing so, I started to get hot and sweaty.

So I pulled off my shirt and plopped back down to take another drink.

By now, we were practically taking shots of the wine when certain things happened in the show. And I was starting to get especially drunk because Zuko kept mentioning his honor over and over. It was getting ridiculous.

“You know what?” I said, turning to Kristy. “Zuko is probably the hottest character on this show. Who do you think is?”

Kristy thought for a moment, then smirked as she replied, “Katara.”

“Really?!” I barked out another laugh. “I never would have pegged you to like that.”

Kristy shrugged and took another drink. “I guess I just think she’s beautiful, that’s all.”

I agreed, took another drink, and felt myself get hotter. I looked to Kristy and asked, “Is it me, or is it getting really warm in here?”

She quirked her eyebrow, then nodded. Without another word, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it behind her. “I was getting a little hot, too.”

But I barely heard her. I was too busy staring at her breasts, bare and pert. Her nipples were hard, puffed up like they had been played with recently.

Kristy smirked at me again, obviously seeing how distracted Bostancı Escort Bayan I was, then commented, “You know, I hate my boobs. Your’s are so nice.”

I looked down to my ample chest and frowned. “Nah, mine are too saggy.”

Before I could react, Kristy turned her body fully to me and cupped my breasts in her palms. The pads of her thumbs grazed my nipples and I felt a shiver go through my body.

“They’re so firm, though!” she exclaimed. “I would kill to have breasts like these.”

She kept playing with them, pressing them together and massaging them lightly between her fingers. I couldn’t help but let out a throaty moan as she pinched my nipples once more.

Something changed in that moment, and I knew we were never going to go back.

I got bold. I stood, commented on how hot it was again, and slid my shorts down my legs and kicked them away. I was left bare naked, sitting crossed legged on her floor with my back propped against her couch. Kristy’s eyes gleamed, and she stood and pulled her shorts down as well. Her excuse was the same as mine.

We both kept our eyes on the screen, watching as Katara painted her face with some red stripes and donned a flowing robe.

“Gosh, what I would do to lick that girl’s pussy,” Kristy moaned.

I looked over and giggled. “She’s a cartoon, Kris. You can’t really do that.”

I could see how drunk she was based on the glaze in her eyes and the slurring of her words, but I couldn’t see the lust as she looked at my body once more and leaned towards me a little.

“Yeah, but a girl can dream,” she murmured, breath fanning my face. “Besides, haven’t you always had the fantasy of being with a woman?”

Immediately, I looked down to her shaved pussy and another shiver went through my body. Kristy must have seen, because she shifted in her spot so she was on her knees, face right in front of mine.

I didn’t need to say anything, because I knew what I wanted to do. What my body was telling me to do. My stomach clenched as I captured her lips with mine. In no time, Kristy was straddling me, her wet pussy grinding against Escort Bostancı my lower stomach.

We didn’t need to speak, because we just knew what to do. I pushed her off and onto her back, then lowered my pussy over her face. As soon as she started licking my clit, my mouth latched onto hers and my fingers began stroking her labia- spreading her juices all around. I slid one into her, then stroked her like I would do to myself. Her hips began thrusting into my face, grinding her cunt all over my mouth and chin.

Her tongue was expert, fucking my pussy like it had done it a thousand times. Her nose tickled my clit and I was practically sobbing for more.

Before I knew it, Kristy was pushing me off and onto my back. She lined her pussy up with mine and began rolling her hips back and forth. Never had I ever felt something so incredible, and before I knew it I was having my first orgasm. It ran through me like a tidal wave, rippling and tightening and blinding me that I barely noticed that Kristy had begun licking my pussy again.

She had me orgasming a second time, then a third before she lowered herself onto my face to let me feast. My tongue slid all around her, and my thumb stroked her clit back and forth until she was spasming around my tongue.

After she calmed down, Kristy climbed off of my face and ordered me to bend over the arm of the couch. I obliged, and suddenly I felt her tongue go into my asshole. It was strange, it was new. And it was incredible.

Kristy was an expert at making me cum, because I was at the mercy of her hands and mouth for so long I lost track of everything. The show was still playing in the background, but I blocked it out because the sounds of her satisfied moans and my screams of pleasure filled my ears.

After my sixth or seventh orgasm, we lazily tribbed each other, kissing slowly and suckling on each other’s nipples until our final orgasms shook our bodies.

Kristy got off of me, and without another word went into the bathroom and took a shower. I laid on the couch, sated and tired, and waited for her to return.

But I passed out before she even shampooed her hair.

Luckily for me, though, I woke up to the sight of her in between my legs with a strap-on and a vibrator.

With a grin, she said, “Sweetie, we’re just getting started.”

Even though years have passed, I still look back at that memory and smile. Because sometimes when I’m with my husband, I think of her.

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It’s late on a Thursday evening, and Staci is still sitting at her desk in the office trying to get this project done, her boss has been pounding her about it all week. She feels so stressed her shoulders are aching. She has been working late all week and is in dire need of a release. She looks around the empty office suite, and stops to listen for any noises for a moment…….nothing. Believing she is alone, she kicks off her 3 inched black heels under her desk. She leans back in the chair and lets her long dark hair down from the tight bun it was in. Ahhh, she lets out a long sigh and closes her eyes. She starts to think about the day she had, and the very handsome guy she was pressed up against in the crowded elevator earlier today. She remembers her ass pressed up against his crotch, she could feel the shape of his limp cock through her very thin, very short black skirt. She could feel him breathe down her neck.

She starts to get turned on sitting there alone at her desk. She unconsciously begins to rub her nipple through her thin blouse. She remembers wiggling her ass against him right before she exited the elevator, and turning around as the doors closed to see his very sexy wink coming her way. Mmmm, wouldn’t that be nice, she thinks, how lovely it would be to have his hard cock right here right now. She lets her hand wander down her body and rest on her bare inner Anadolu Yakası Escort thigh just below the seam of her mini skirt that she has already hiked up a bit. She begins to run her cold fingers against her warm thigh, mmmm, she feels her hard nipples pushing against her bra begging for attention. She starts to loosen a few buttons on her blouse and then pulls her bra to the side, her hard nipple pointing straight out now, hardens even more against the cold air of the office. She pinches it and rolls it around between her fingers her other hand making its way up her thigh to her warm, now very damp panties.

She starts to rub her clit through her silk panties the cloth against her now wet pussy feels sticky and warm. She begins to breathe harder squirming in the big leather chair. She pushes the panties to the side and pushes a finger deep into her drenched pussy, Oooooooh, she let a moan escape her pretty pink lips. Then she pulls her dripping finger out of her sweet cunt and brings it to her lips, she licks every bit of her juices from it and then returns it to her hot hole, this time inserting her middle finger as well. She is imagining it’s the sexy elevator guy giving her the pleasure, fingering her sweet pussy smelling her arousal, all the while her beautiful eyes stay closed to the rest of the world. She is in ecstasy, Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan as she quickens her pace, now fucking herself deep and hard, her other hand has moved from her full breasts down to her very swollen clit. She is rubbing it faster and faster, plunging her two fingers deeper with every thrust. Ooohh, mmmm…….ssssshitt. She is cumming now, hard and fast, she can feel the walls of her tight little pussy contracting against her fingers. She continues fucking herself, slower now, easing herself down from her orgasm. She relaxes against the now warm leather of the big chair. Slowly, she pulls her finger out and licks her cum off of them, smiles to herself. She removes her silk panties and puts them in her drawer, straightens her skirt and blouse. She decides to go to the kitchen for a drink.

She gets up and walks towards the long hallway. Just before she reaches the kitchen she is startled. She sees me. Sitting there in the next office, across from hers, looking very flushed, as I almost came just watching her. She just stands there looking at me intently, trying to think of something to say I suppose. I get up, walk over to her, watching as she blushes deeply and breaks our stare. She looks down and I notice, she did not put her shoes back on. I reach out and push a strand of her dark lovely hair from her sweet Escort Anadolu Yakası face. She looks at me, I smile. I run my fingers over her sweet pouty lips. She opens them slightly at my touch. I can feel the moisture from them on my fingers. I can’t help but to pull her face to mine, I kiss her deeply, yet softly. I can taste her sweet juices on my tongue. Oh how nice, like nectar.

She reaches around me pulling me closer; now kissing me back, deeply and with more desire. I run my hands hungrily over her back and down to her firm, plump ass. I give it a little squeeze, she moans into my mouth. I pull her skirt up and rub her bare ass, feeling its warmth. I bring my other hand down as well bringing her skirt up around her hips. I feel her hands exploring my body as well, one hand running through my hair, the other caressing my breast through my top. I run my hand against her soft shaven pussy. I can feel her heat against me. She begins to pull my shirt off, and unclasp my bra. My nipples stand pert and longing for touch. She immediately grabs them, pulls and pinches them I moan and throw my head back, enjoying this beauty’s touch. She brings one to her warm mouth and suckles it, while kneading the other. Heaven, I again start to explore her warmth, feeling the wetness of her inner folds, I find her clit and rub it in a circular motion, she likes this, she moans against my breast and sucks harder. I begin to feel my wetness seeping from my panties. As though she reads my mind she makes her way down my body to the top of my skirt, she reaches around and unzips my skirt letting it fall to the floor. She pushes me back against my desk and pulls down my panties, Ooooh, I moan in anticipation of what’s to come.

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This is me in my red haired glory, all curves and long legs and arms. White skin and brown eyes, tall and shapely. The red triangle between my legs. This is me.

This is my boyfriend with broad back and big hands. Blond and statue like, with a wide grasp and piercing gaze. The long thickness of him everywhere. This is my boyfriend.

And this is Kara. Kara, the girl with huge green eyes and a mass of tawny hair, upturned freckled nose and wide smile. Kara who likes to shoot birds, who orders steaks bloody and licks her lips. She is loud and friendly. I can see her now walking to my door in the drenching sunlight of hot summer, wearing a white tank top and khaki shorts. Her breasts are ample, firm and pushed high. They move fluidly and sweat drips down the well between them, coursing down her suntanned skin past her freckled navel and in to the damp blond hair. We went shopping once and compared bra sizes, she is a 38 DD, and I am a 36 B. Her legs are athletic and slightly stocky, well muscled from crouching and springing at birds. Her hips are wide and she moves well, unconsciously graceful.

Kara has never made a secret of her sexual proclivities. She treats my boyfriend like a pal, teasing and slapping his back. I have seen him looking hungrily at her, but she ignores this in favor of me.

“I would fuck you in a second.” She told me one night after a third round of margaritas. Ataşehir Escort “Look at you…. you are lovely.”

And I blushed like a schoolgirl at the comment. I was amazed at how good it felt to receive a compliment. So I flirted back, hungrily eating the attention. I danced with her treating her like a guy, rubbing my ass against her pelvis, turning around and grinding against her and taking pleasure in how soft her breasts were against mine, so different form banging against a hard male chest. And taking secret pleasure in the pressure of her of her cunt against mine.

I did not call her after that night. Just like a guy would not. I thought about her at night, lonely in the bed. I thought about her in the lonely mornings. And sometimes, if the afternoon got lonely I though about her then too.

I even though about her while masturbating, reliving the firmness of her breasts against mine, her large nipples poking and playing with mine. The sweaty warmth of her cunt moving up and down against mine, making me flood with excitement, with the power of that moment, the music, the dancing, the bodies. Oh- the rhythm of that cunt against my own. And I would rock in silent orgasm and have to do it again and again.

I still did not call her.

Until today. I called her. And now she is coming up the walk soaked in sunlight and gleaming and triumphant, Ataşehir Escort Bayan like a goddess.

I answer the door and hug her. My heart is pounding furiously and I cannot catch my breath. She feels this flutter and pulls away.

“Relax,” she says.

The first kiss is soft, a tiny movement of lips followed by her tongue. She tastes of cinnamon.

We are lying on the bed. Kara pulls back the curtain and lets direct sunlight in. I am ashamed and begin to roll over but she stops me and looks at me. She takes in my breasts and stomach and cunt. Her breathing becoming ragged. She kisses me again and again and we clench together and I feel her naked breasts on my breasts, the soft curl of her pubic hair on my stomach. I touch her breasts, heft them in my hand and squeeze them together. I kiss her large nipples and rapidly flick them with my tongue (a move that never fails to arouse some kind of response with my boyfriend) She gasps. I explore both of them, kissing sucking and nibbling until she is moaning. I move down, kissing the freckles on her stomach and her hips. I rest my hand on the curly hairs. She is warm and damp. Kara’s wide green eyes are looking down at me, suffused with lust and faint surprise. I have never touched another woman’s pussy. I am so aroused I ache.

I part her lips and she is so wet. I stroke softly and she lifts Escort Ataşehir her hips and gasps. I find her clit and work it gently in a circle. I am trying to remember what turns me on. I continue to work it while I take a finger and slip it inside her. She is hot and wet and tight and I move my finger back and forth. She is pressing up against my fingers crying out and grabbing at the sheets and suddenly her muscles clench around me and it gets even wetter. Her hips move up and down as she screams out again and again. I cannot believe she has come so quickly. I stroke her softly until she quiets and lean down to kiss her again. She has a bemused look on her face. Before she can speak I am between her legs again, this time parting the folds with my tongue. Tasting her arousal and come, finding it pleasing. I circle her clit with my tongue keeping the rhythm fast. A moment before she is about to climax again I move down thrust my tongue deep inside her. She is constantly keening, her moans are loud. Her hands are in my hair, twisting it and pulling it. I move back up to her clit and circle a few more times before she cries out and sits straight up, shuddering, and I taste something new, something slightly sweet and salty at the same time.

Kara collapses on the bed and I move up next to her. She looks at me with a frank gaze.

“Are you sure you have never done this before.”

I shake my head. I cannot trust myself to speak, amazed at my boldness, and at her wild response. Nobody has ever responded to me like that before. I have never felt more desirable. Kara shifts her tawny body over mine and slides a hand between my legs.

“Well anyway” she says as I gasp and arch, “Its your turn now.”

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These are parts 3 and 4 of the story about Jules and Layla. You can read these chapters as a separate story, however, I recommend you start with the first two chapters to see how the two of them met. Enjoy!

********

Chapter 3

It was hot. I was lounging in the sun in my favourite blue bikini, taking the occasional sip from my water bottle and gazing at the frenzy of activity around me. Why did swimming pools always have to be so crowded?

Toddlers crawling away from their parents’ blankets, teens flaunting their pre-pubescent bodies in skimpy swimwear, old men with hairy backs and way too tiny speedos, bulky dudes with steroid-filled biceps (and ridiculously skinny legs)… And women.

Women of all shapes and sizes. Muscular ones with flat bellies and well-toned arms and legs. Curvy ones with full breasts and asses that pretty much begged to be squeezed. Blondes and brunettes and gingers and black-haired women, with porcelain and café au lait skin, adorned with freckles and tattoos and jewellery.

They all ran around wearing as little as possible, to avoid unwanted tan lines. While men’s gawking eyes clearly bothered the majority of the women, a woman’s gaze didn’t, because they weren’t perceived as drooling predators.

I hated the large crowds of people in a public swimming pool, but I couldn’t deny the fact that this allowed me to indulge in the view of half-naked women all day without restraint, and that I liked this very much. (I also guessed this was the same reason guys went to swimming pools in summer time.)

My eyes fixed on one particular woman strolling over the lawn in my direction. She was wearing cut-off jeans and a light blue top knotted above her bellybutton. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was carrying a tote bag over her shoulder.

Her small breasts moved seductively under the thin fabric of her top – she was not wearing a bra, I was sure. I could feel my mouth getting dry, all the wetness gathering elsewhere, as I stared at her gently swaying boobs. With a regretful sigh I finally tore my eyes away from that tantalising sight and looked up into her face just when she stopped in front of me.

“There you are,” Jules said. She pulled a beach towel from her tote and spread it on the dry grass next to mine. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought you’d be closer to the pool.”

“Sorry,” I replied and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before letting her unpack her stuff. “I thought I’d texted you I was next to this big tree over here.”

Jules huffed. “Well, you didn’t.”

She pouted, a little too over the top for me to take it seriously, and I laughed and pulled her in for another kiss, this time on the lips.

“How can I ever make it up to you?” I whispered against her lips.

I was tempted to start making it up in my very own way right there and then, by letting my lips wander further, kissing along her jawline down to her earlobe, then nibbling softly on her neck before trailing down to her collarbone, and maybe even further, to her sensitive buds that were already pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt…

But I didn’t, because I was afraid she’d uncomfortably shrug me off like she had the first two times I’d attempted this in public, too self-conscious or embarrassed or whatever.

We’d been seeing each other regularly for three weeks now, and while I did my best to stay patient, to give her time to acclimatise to this new kind of relationship that was so entirely out of her box, I also couldn’t help but notice that so far all of our dates had taken place in secluded locations where no one could see us.

There had been a bike tour through the vast natural reserve north of the city where you hardly ever crossed paths with anyone else (topped off with a make-out session pressed against a tree trunk).

There had been a hike in the nearby mountains along a less popular trail (where I went down on her on a hidden stone platform that overlooked the valley).

There had been a lazy day spent on the riverbank, in a lonely spot far from where families usually had their picnics (here tanning on my picnic blanket had turned into a session of getting each other off through our bikini panties).

There had been a cinema date where we had sat in the last row of the small cinema hall, behind everyone else (and made out as soon as the lights turned off).

And then of course there had been many dates that were nothing but ‘Netflix and chill’, minus the Netflix part.

While this was all great and I really enjoyed the sexual chemistry we undeniably had, I still wondered if she would continue to keep whatever this was a secret.

We hadn’t had ‘the talk’ yet. I was kind of waiting for her to bring up the topic, since I didn’t want to rush her. But I was also curious about the parts of her life that she was keeping me from: her friends and family, her work, hell, even her apartment.

“She needs time,” I told myself repeatedly. “She’s never been with a Kadıköy Escort woman before. She’s probably still struggling with her sexual identity somewhere in the back of her mind.”

But it was getting increasingly difficult to silence the voice in my mind that was wondering if she even wanted to be in a serious relationship with me.

Jules’ voice pulled me out of my line of thoughts.

“How can you make it up to me? Hm, let me see… For now, putting some lotion on my back would be a good start.”

I smirked and held out a hand for her bottle of sunscreen. She knew far too well that I wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity to touch her.

“You better get rid of those clothes then, young lady,” I commanded in my best creepy-professor-voice.

She chuckled, then pulled the top over her head. She wore a strapless bikini top, the olive green of the fabric complimenting her fair complexion beautifully. I had been wrong about the no-bra-assumption after all, but it was a mistake I could live with.

She stood up and stripped down her shorts, folded the clothing neatly (she could be so endearingly, stereotypically German sometimes) and lay down on her stomach on her towel next to me. I got up on my knees, squeezed some sunscreen into my hands and started to spread it onto her back.

Being a little more thorough than necessary, I massaged the lotion into her neck and shoulders, feeling her relax under my hands, letting out soft sighs of pleasure. When I reached her lower back it took all my willpower to restrain from massaging the sunscreen into places that she would most certainly not be tanning today. Her small, round butt tempted me to slide my hands under her bikini bottoms.

I had to make a mental note: massage her next time we were in bed together. The idea turned me on endlessly. I could get some oil and turn her body into a wonderful, slippery, willing piece of flesh with my hands. I knew I was good at this, I had gotten respective feedback several times.

While I was putting lotion on her legs (being aware of the fact she could have done it herself, but still enjoying the possibility of doing it), I imagined the whole thing.

I would put her on my bed, propping a pillow under her belly so her lower body would be slightly raised. Then I would use the oil to massage her, knead the muscles in her neck and her back. When she was all relaxed and slick with oil, I would focus on her lower body, massaging her butt cheeks and her upper thighs, drawing her awareness to her centre but never touching it.

Finally, I would drizzle some more oil on her, letting it run down her butt and cover her pussy lips. I would slowly push one oily finger into her, enough to make her gasp, but not enough to satisfy her – because when was one finger ever enough?

That one finger would soon be joined by a second, then a third. I would finger her with one hand while shamelessly squeezing her ass with the other. I’d let my pinkie flick over her clit, and my thumb press lightly into her bum hole at the same time. (I wondered if she would like that, if she had any experience with anal sex whatsoever.)

When she was panting and writhing under my touch, I would use my second hand, either to pay very special attention to her clit, or to bring a toy into play, maybe a dildo or a butt plug, if I were feeling adventurous…

Unfortunately, I was finished putting sunscreen on Jules way too soon for my taste. I could never get enough of her. It was as if since the night I first met her, I was charged up with this immense sexual energy. I wasn’t usually this permanently horny, but with her…

Part of it was probably because she was so new to all of this. She’d had enough partners to be regarded as experienced, but then again there were so many things that she had never done before, positions, toys, and of course women.

Her earlier experiences had made her curious though, which gave me plenty of room to play with. The idea of being able to introduce her to all these new things, of seeing her initial coyness and reluctance turn into excitement, lust and pleasure as she broadened her horizon – it made my heart sing and my insides throb and it had me buzzing with anticipation whenever I saw her.

Thinking about the oil massage idea had made me wet, and I was once again thankful that female arousal wasn’t that visible to others. I wouldn’t have liked to walk around the swimming pool with a massive boner.

I lay down next to Jules, resting my chin on my crossed arms and shooting a glance at her from the corner of my eye. She caught me looking at her and smiled, rolling onto her side and edging closer to me. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out and softly stroked her cheek. She seized my hand and played with it. When she lifted it and pressed her lips first onto my palm, then on the tip of every finger, I was surprised by the sweetness (and, for her, boldness) of the gesture.

“What was that for?” I asked quietly.

She Kadıköy Escort Bayan shrugged. “Nothing in particular. I’m just very happy at the moment.”

I grinned like a Cheshire cat in return.

Jules leaned in to me and put her lips on mine. I thought she was going for a peck, but her mouth lingered on mine, her tongue trailing over my lower lip. I opened my mouth, my heart beating faster. She accepted the unspoken invitation, her tongue gliding into my mouth.

Our tongues intertwined, rubbing against one another in a slow, sensual way. Her hand came up around my neck, and she pulled me closer, deepening our kiss even more. I could make out the faintest humming noise from her, somewhat similar to the purring of a content cat.

Oh yes, my sexy kitten seemed to be very content as she took my bottom lip between her teeth and softly pulled on it, then kissed her way to my ear, nibbling on my earlobe before breathing, “I can’t wait to get back in bed with you again.”

I let out a breath I had unknowingly held.

“Geez, you can’t say something like that and expect me to walk around the pool like nothing happened. Don’t tease me like that if you don’t plan to follow through with it!”

A sly grin spread on her lips.

“Who says I won’t follow through?”

“Um… my experience?” I retorted, a little annoyed that to her this seemed to be a fun game, with no consideration for my feelings.

Jules wrinkled her freckled nose.

“Ouch. What did I do wrong?”

I sighed.

“Nothing. It’s just… I feel like you’re uncomfortable with PDA. I mean, apart from just now. This was new. This was good. Great.”

I inwardly rolled my eyes at myself. So much for being patient.

“Anyways, I was wondering if this had anything to do with me, or if you’re generally not a big fan, or if you are uncomfortable being seen with a woman?”

Jules sat up, watching me, her eyebrows raised in astonishment.

“How did you get that impression?”

I sat up now, too.

“Well, for starters, all our dates so far have been in very isolated places. As if you didn’t want us to be seen. We have only ever been at my place until now. I haven’t met any of your folks. And… when I tried to kiss you like you just kissed me the last two times, you evaded me,” I finished lamely.

This sounded like a litany of accusations, and I had not intended for it to come out this way. Actually, I had not intended for this to come out at all. I mentally chided myself.

Jules had watched me during my short speech, her expression becoming progressively more relieved.

“I can explain most of that, Layla.”

She reached for my hand and held it in hers.

“I thought of these dates because I wanted to do something out of the ordinary with you. You know, because you give me all these extraordinary experiences,” she winked at me, “and I wanted to do the same. At least not do the same old dinner and a movie thing with you every time we hang out.”

She absentmindedly pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

“I also enjoyed our alone time, because I’m not quite ready to share you yet. Which also explains why you haven’t met any of my friends or family. They are all very accepting and open-minded, so don’t be worried about that. I’m just not someone who is very public with things as long as they are so… new. You know?”

She took a breath and continued in a more timid tone, “We haven’t been at my place because all the… sex stuff… is at your place anyways, so I figured that’s what you would prefer.”

She looked up from my hand, searching for my eyes.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.”

I just sat there, flabbergasted by this much honesty and directness, and also kind of touched by her confession. Suddenly, my worries seemed very stupid. I shook my head, grinning.

“I’m sorry, for making such a drama out of this. I feel absolutely stupid right now. I get so ridiculously impatient sometimes.”

“So… all good?”

“Yes. All good.”

“Does that mean we can go home and have steamy, hot make-up sex now?”

“Hell yeah!”

Chapter 4

We had merely entered my apartment when we were already on each other, carelessly throwing away our bags in the hallway, making out, pressing our bodies together.

Jules threw her arms around my neck and kissed me fiercely. My hands automatically closed around her butt, crushing her into me. I was trying to navigate us to my room while taking of her top, and she was fumbling with the buttons of my blouse.

I kicked my door shut with the heel of my foot and steered Jules over to the bed. We undressed each other with shaky, impatient fingers, our hungry mouths devouring each other whenever possible. Finally, we were both naked.

I buried my hands in her blonde hair that spilled over her shoulders. Her bun had come undone. She ran her hands over my breasts eagerly. She always seemed so fascinated Escort Kadıköy with touching my body, and I could imagine that she was trying out the things she liked to see if I liked them too.

If you pay attention, you can learn a lot about your partner’s sexual preferences by the way they touch you. So far, I had learned that she liked me to hold her face when I kissed her, that it turned her on when I nibbled on her earlobe, that she became incredibly horny when I teased her, deferred her pleasure. However, so far my most vital insight into Jules’ sexual desires was that she liked it rough.

She did appreciate it when I was gentle with her, but nothing got her going like the harder pace. Biting, nails scratching, fucking her like a maniac – hard sex with all the bells and whistles.

That first night I had been half joking, half curious about her reaction towards the rather big strap-on. I hadn’t really thought I’d actually use that on her, I was expecting her to back out.

It was certainly one of the bigger ones I owned, though not the biggest one (I prided myself on having a rather large collection of toys in all shapes and sizes). I would have guessed that she’d ask for a smaller one to begin with. But instead, she had been willing, even eager to try it. What a vixen she was, and what happy coincidence that she had appeared in my favourite bar that night!

We had used that strap-on more than once in the past couple of weeks, and I felt confident that by this point, I had convinced her that satisfying sex was in fact possible without a real dick.

Today, I wanted to try something new. Fantasising about rubbing her with oil had sparked my creativity. Since I didn’t have any massage oil at hand though, I had to put that particular idea on hold for now. Fortunately, on the bike ride home I had come up with something else.

“Are you ready to try something new?” I asked, reaching for the drawer of toys under my bed.

“Always,” Jules replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation.

I took one of my favourite double dildos from the drawer. It was 40 cm (ca. 16″) long, an impressive silicone cock in an over-the-top girly neon-pink, with a girth of approximately 4 cm (ca. 2″), although the heads on both ends were thicker.

This was definitely one of the biggest toys I owned. I did have one that was even bigger, or rather wider, but I didn’t want to demand too much from Jules at once. Plus, it’s always good to leave some room for improvement – or, in this case, rather for intensification.

Jules gulped when she saw the double dildo in my hands. I could almost hear her thoughts running wild behind that pretty forehead of hers as she regarded the large toy warily. Could it be that this was bigger than the strap-on? What was I planning? How exactly was this used? Did all of this length go into her?

I motioned for her to sit on the bed, grabbed a bottle of lube and joined her.

“We’re using this together,” I explained, “you’ll like it, trust me.”

I generously squeezed lube onto one half of the toy and spread it around.

“Lie down,” I instructed her, and she immediately complied, her shyness overruled by her curiosity.

My hand was still full of lube, so I spread the residue between her legs, thoroughly massaging it into her clit, on her labia and then pushing two fingers inside her. I slid my palm over her entire vulva with the slow, yet strong movements of a masseuse, mimicking my oily fantasy from earlier that day.

In an instant her hips lifted, following my rhythm, begging me for more. I continued to stroke her for a little while, until I was fairly sure that she was aroused enough.

Next I reached for the double dildo and eased the slippery half into her. It was fucking sexy, watching the neon-pink toy disappear in her hot, wet body. She panted as the wide head pushed through her glistening folds, not being accustomed to the size of it.

I smiled wickedly. If only she knew that this was just the beginning… Almost half of the toy was buried in her now. I picked up the lube again and put some more on the other half. Jules had sat up, propped on her elbow and watched me spread the lube on the toy and on myself.

It didn’t take me long to prepare myself. Massaging Jules and seeing her before me, now rocking her hips slightly against the length in her, had already aroused me immensely. I sat facing her, moving one leg over her thigh, the other one under her other leg. I edged closer, then pushed the second half of the dildo into me.

The sensation of being filled out and of being connected through the toy was incredible. We both started moving automatically. It took a few moments before we had found our rhythm, but then we rocked back and forth together.

We were both leaning on our elbows, watching fascinatedly the way our sexes ground together. With every thrust forward, the toy was buried so deep inside us that our skin touched. Whenever we rocked back, the dildo moved, and at least in my case the bulky head rubbed against all the right spots.

As we grew more confident in our rhythm, our movements became faster, our bodies grounding together with more force. Jules’ small tits bounced with every thrust, and I reached out for them, desperate to have her hard nipples in my mouth.

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Chapter One: An Accidental Arrangement

This is a F-F story, with BDSM elements, although it takes a while to get there. Chapter 1 is introduction only; there’s no sex until Chapter 2.

Posting schedule: I’m submitting Chapter 2 immediately after Chapter 1, after that I expect to post new chapters about once a month. I’m expecting the series to run to about eight chapters altogether, but last time I said “four to six chapters” and it ended up running to fourteen, so maybe you shouldn’t put too much stock in that.

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter, you can use the private feedback option to send me your email address.

* * * * *

“I’m thinking of becoming a kept woman,” said Anjali, as calmly as if she’d been commenting on the quality of the café’s coffee.

I froze, hiding my reaction behind a forkful of cake. “A… a what?”

I didn’t know whether to take her literally. Anjali was a peculiar mix of deep knowledge and childlike naiveté, and it would be just like her to misuse an expression she’d read in a book somewhere.

“A kept woman. You know? A mistress. But I wanted your advice.”

Literally, then.

I caught the eye of the waiter and beckoned him over; I could see this was going to be a two-coffee conversation. Before I take that any further, though, let me explain the nature of our acquaintance.

* * * * *

We’d met seven years earlier, back when I lived in Sydney. I was halfway through a doctorate in operations research. I had a friend by the name of Kavita, an Indian-Australian student in the engineering department, and both of us had been doing mathematics tutoring to help pay the bills.

Kavita had been engaged for as long as I’d known her, with no definite date set, and then suddenly the plans all came together and the wedding took over her life with little warning. She asked if I could take on some of her students, and that’s how I came to be tutoring Anjali Kapadia.

“She’s a smart girl,” Kavita told me, “she’s going to be a doctor.” There was no if in that sentence. “She won’t be any trouble, but you must be on your best behaviour. Her parents are very very strict.”

Anjali was sixteen when I met her, a slightly-built girl who wore great big glasses that made her look like an owl. She was in her second-last year of high school, attending a private ladies’ college that her parents had most likely chosen for the height of its perimeter wall and the cast-iron spikes at the top.

She wanted to do Extension Mathematics Two, which is the hardest maths stream in the NSW system. It’s the course for hardcore STEM nerds like myself, but it’s also popular with kids who want the high marks to get into medicine or law.

E2 is hard work even for a bright kid with a good teacher, and unfortunately Anjali didn’t have a good teacher. The college’s Head of Mathematics had just retired, and the replacement teacher was out of his depth with the harder content. That’s where I came in.

Tutoring Anjali was the easy part. She was bright, and not just willing but eager to work. That worked well for me. I’m a good explainer but a bad motivator, and E2 is tough enough to feel like serious punishment to anybody who’s just doing it for the marks. I’d been tutoring a lot of wannabe med/law students who didn’t really want to be there, so it was a relief to have a pupil who wasn’t going to ask “why do we even need this?”

She loved to spend her lunchtimes alone in the school library, reading anything she could lay her hands on. As a result, she could reel off facts about anything from the history of watchmaking to the moons of Jupiter, and she’d do so at the slightest opportunity.

For all that, though, she could be deeply clueless on some matters. She had an impressive vocabulary but found literature classes immensely frustrating because she always missed subtext; she could recite the “Friends, Romans, countrymen” speech from memory, but never noticed how Antony uses that speech to manipulate the crowd.

Once we had a very confusing conversation where Anjali insisted that Australians used to eat mammoth meat. It turned out she’d been reading an old novel where somebody had a “mammoth sandwich”, and hadn’t understood that the author just meant a big sandwich.

I soon learned never to laugh at such mistakes. She was very sensitive to embarrassment, to any situation that made her look foolish, and it was easy to bring her close to tears with a careless remark. I had been much the same at sixteen; I struggled to make friends of my own age, so I worked overtime trying to impress adults with my intellect, and failure was unbearable.

A little later in my own life, I would be diagnosed with Asperger syndrome, what’s sometimes misleadingly called “mild” autism. (I’m not fond of that expression; “mild” just means that I’m good enough at faking normal that I don’t inconvenience people around me too badly. It says nothing at all about what it’s like for me.)

Looking back, it’s blindingly obvious that Anjali Bostancı Escort was a kindred spirit – although more obviously so than myself – and perhaps that’s why we got on so well. But at the time, I just assumed her naiveté was the consequence of her sheltered upbringing.

About her parents. I don’t mean to be too harsh on them. They most certainly were strict, excessively so, but they weren’t mean. They doted on their girl, they were proud of her achievements, and they wanted the best for her in everything.

Unfortunately, their idea of “the best” involved wrapping her up in cotton wool. Her mother drove her to school and collected her again every day. The only computer she could use was in the living room, so that her parents could keep a watchful eye on her, and it was locked down with parental-control software that made it almost useless for anything beyond word-processing. The TV was switched on only for parentally-approved content. And so on.

One afternoon when my bike was in the shop for repairs my then-boyfriend Edgar gave me a lift to tutoring in his car, and knocked on the door afterwards to pick me up. They said nothing at the time, but on my next visit Mrs Kapadia asked for a word with me before the lesson.

She offered me a cup of tea and then explained, very apologetically, that Mr Kapadia considered it inappropriate for Anjali to see me with a boy I wasn’t married to. In future, should I be unable to ride, I was to call them and she would come pick me up herself. Mrs Kapadia was as polite as could be, but I was left in no doubt that this was not to be repeated. For her part, Anjali seemed quite startled that I might be dating such a scruffy-looking lad. (In my defence, Edgar wasn’t a scruffy-looking lad when we started dating, but more on that later.)

Perhaps the hardest restriction of all, she wasn’t allowed a mobile phone until her seventeenth birthday, long after all her classmates had one. Her brother Mahesh, two years younger, got his the same day she did. There’s no justice.

Privately, I thought the Kapadias were making a big mistake. You can’t keep your child in a bubble forever, especially if she’s going to med school. Sooner or later Anjali was going to meet the Big Wide World, and then she’d need to learn the life lessons she’d been missing. But there wasn’t much I could do about it – or so I thought at the time – so I just took my seventy dollars an hour and did my job.

Like I said, I’m a good explainer and she was a good pupil. Sometimes it took a while for her to understand a concept, but once I got it across I never had to explain the same thing twice. I wasn’t surprised when her father told me she’d topped the school’s Year Eleven maths exams, and after they returned from the annual trip to visit family in Mumbai I agreed to continue for her final year.

In Year Twelve the content got tougher, but she was equal to the task. Solids of revolution, integration by parts, polynomial factorisations, conic sections, she learned it all and then practised until she could do it in her sleep.

The one topic where we ran into difficulty was complex numbers. It wasn’t that the subject was too complicated for her; the rules were simple compared to the other E2 content, and she could have memorised them easily enough.

No, it was an ethical dilemma. She was being asked to work with the square root of minus one, a thing that simply didn’t exist, and that bothered her deeply. “If it’s not true,” she asked, “why are we learning it? In mathematics? Why should I try to believe in something that isn’t true?”

That was a tough one to resolve. In the end I had to go home and spend a couple of hours with my undergrad textbooks before I could figure out an explanation that would satisfy her. (In brief: all numbers are abstractions that only exist inside our heads, but they give us a useful way of thinking about things that do exist in the real world.)

Of course, Anjali Kapadia was only a small part of my schedule. I had plenty of other things going on in my life. I had my other tutees; I had Edgar, and my own family; I had a doctoral project that was gradually mutating away from its original outline and threatening to eat my entire life if I couldn’t wrestle it into submission. But I liked her, and I felt a little pang when it came time for the last of our weekly tute sessions.

Our final session was a couple of days before the big exam. We ran over all the major topics, and I reminded her to make the most of the reading time. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble, but if you do get stuck on anything, go on to the other questions and come back to it later.”

She gave me a little card signed by the whole family, and Mr Kapadia insisted on giving me a bonus. Then I wished her luck and rode home, wondering how her life would turn out, and thinking that I’d probably never see her again.

* * * * *

My phone woke me at one in the morning. I fumbled for my glasses, and saw it was Anjali, and wondered why on Bostancı Escort Bayan earth she’d be calling me. It was late November, and her exams should all be over.

For a moment I assumed that she’d hit my number by accident, and I almost ditched the call. But then I noticed that I had two unread messages that had arrived while I slept, and I realised that it wasn’t like her to be calling anybody at one in the morning. Something was up. So I answered it, padding out into the hallway to avoid waking Edgar.

She was talking very quietly; I could hear loud music in the background, and people who sounded drunk.

“Sarah. Sorry, sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s up?” I mumbled groggily.

“I’m at a party with Ellie.” I remembered the name: one of her classmates. “My parents don’t know I’m here. Some guys wanted me to drink something and I said no, but Ellie’s passed out and I can’t wake her…”

“Shit.” Suddenly she had my attention. “Where are you? In the house, I mean.”

“We’re in the living room.”

“Okay, good. Stay there with her.” It sounded like there were lots of people around. I just hoped they weren’t all scumbags. “Don’t let anybody take you anywhere. Or her. No matter how nice they seem. If you have to hit them with a bottle or tell them to fuck off, you do that. Okay, where’s the party?”

She gave me a North Shore address.

“Right, got it. I’ll call the police.”

“No, please. My parents will kill me.”

In hindsight the sensible thing would have been to call the police anyway. But it would’ve felt too much like a betrayal, and in the heat of the moment I didn’t even think to bring Edgar along. “Okay, kid, hold on. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Remember, glass bottle.” I grabbed my things and headed for the car.

Twenty-five minutes later I was standing on somebody’s doorstep, rapping the knocker loud enough to be heard over the bass thumping inside.

A hairy man-boy opened the door, then took a step back when he saw me. It could have been my bed-hair and my outfit – dressing gown, unicorn pyjamas, scuffed black Docs – but it could also have been my angry expression and the claw hammer in my right hand.

I stepped towards him, smiling extra-wide like I’d practised in the car mirror, and he started to look like a frightened rabbit.

“Hi!” I said in my perkiest voice. “I’m here for Anjali and Ellie. Where are they?”

Frightened Rabbit pointed me to the living room. There were half a dozen lads, drunk and rowdily singing along with some auto-tuned wonder on the stereo. Behind them was Anjali, sitting on a sofa next to an unconscious girl who I took to be Ellie. I was pleased to see she had a beer bottle clenched in her hand.

In a better world, I’d have found out who the drink-spiking arseholes were and put that hammer to use. But I’m not an action hero. My job was just to get Anjali and her friend out of there.

“Come on, kids, time to go home.”

I glared at the boys until they got out of our way. Between the two of us Anjali and I got Ellie out to the car. I drove far enough to put us out of sight of the house, and then I stopped to call triple-0 and let the cops know there was a party that needed a visit.

By the time I hung up, Anjali was pretty agitated. “We’re supposed to be staying at her place. Her parents are out. Can you take us back there?”

I shook my head. “I’m taking Ellie to hospital. We don’t know what they gave her and some of those drugs can seriously fuck your liver. Now, did you learn first aid at school?”

“Yes.”

“Good, you’re in charge of making sure she’s breathing okay, while I figure out where the nearest hospital is…”

The emergency ward was busy, but unconscious people are high on the triage list. So they took Ellie off for an appointment with a stomach pump, and after we’d done some paperwork they left us to wait with the less urgent cases and the other hangers-on.

Anjali let out a long sigh. “Are my parents going to find out?”

“Maybe. The police may want to take a statement from you. You’re a minor, I think they may have to notify your parents.” Then I thought of something else: “The hospital is definitely going to have to call Ellie’s parents, and I’m guessing they’d tell yours?”

Her face crumpled. Poor kid. I handed her a tissue and patted her shoulder, let her cry for a bit. “Tell you what. Let me call them, okay? Let me handle this one.” She sniffled assent.

In the normal run of things, I’m terrible at fast-talk. But if I have the element of surprise on my side, and a little time to plan things out, I can just about manage to ambush a sleeping target. Or even two.

“Mrs Kapadia, it’s Sarah Weber, I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m at the hospital with Anjali-”

“What did you say, Sarah? She is in HOSPITAL?”

“Yes, don’t panic, she’s not injured but the police may need to take evidence from her-“

I heard Mr Kapadia in the background saying something in Escort Bostancı Hindi, and she replied. Somewhere in there I heard my name. Then he said “give it to me,” and took the phone.

“Hello Sarah? What is the situation please?”

“I’m at the hospital with Anjali…”

Like I said: strict, but not mean. I knew they loved their girl, and I hoped that a scare might remind them of that. Call me cruel, but it was in a good cause.

I told him nothing that wasn’t true. I said that Anjali was unharmed but really upset, and that she and Ellie had gone to a party, and somebody had spiked Ellie’s drink. I said that thankfully, Anjali had been smart enough not to drink, and brave enough to stay there and protect her friend. And that she’d called me, because she was scared of what they’d say.

All through that he said almost nothing, other than to relay information to his wife. I think I’d succeeded in throwing them off balance.

“She’s here, do you want to talk to her?”

Of course they did. Anjali took the phone about as eagerly as if I’d offered her a grenade, and then began talking in Hindi. It was hard to tell, but from the tone of voice I didn’t think they were tearing strips off her.

Eventually she said, “Shukriya. Bye, Mama,” and handed the phone back to me. Her father came back on. “We will come and pick her up.”

After he’d said good-bye, I put the phone away and turned back to Anjali. “How were they?”

“Ah. Better than they could have been. Th-thank you.”

It was a warm night, but she was shaking. I shrugged off my dressing gown and made her put it on, although it was too long for her. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get you something from the vending machines.”

As we waited for the machine to sputter out a cup of hot chocolate, I put my arm around her shoulder. “Okay, listen up. Two things. One, I know this seems like the end of the world right now, but it’ll blow over. You made a mistake, you dealt with it. I don’t think your parents are going to stay mad for too long. If they are, well.” I shrugged. “You’ll be eighteen pretty soon, and then you’re an adult and you get to decide how much say they have in your life.”

As any grown-up knows, this is not exactly the complete truth – and, Anjali tells me, it’s even less true for a good Hindu girl – but I figured it was true enough for the moment.

“Second thing. I’m not your tutor any more, so if you ever need an adult who’s not beholden to your parents, you have my number. If something like this happens, or if you just want a sanity check on anything, you can call me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I gave her a hug. “But next time you call in the middle of the night, you owe me a coffee. Got it?”

“Got it.” She managed a weak smile.

Her parents showed up not long after that, and she ran straight into her mother’s arms. Mr Kapadia gave me a gruff but sincere thank-you. Then I said goodbye, retrieved my dressing gown, and drove home to where my bed awaited.

* * * * *

I messaged Anjali the next day to check how she was doing, but she didn’t reply. Much later, she told me she’d been grounded for a few weeks without phone privileges. By her parents’ standards, that was pretty mild, and all was forgiven when she made it into a prestigious medical program.

After that Anjali faded into the background of my life. It wasn’t that that she was ungrateful for my help, far from it; there just wasn’t room for friendship to develop just then. We were moving in different circles, and both of us were tremendously busy with our studies. I was trying to get my PhD under control and find employment opportunities, and Anjali was starting on a six-year medical degree. As if that wasn’t enough of a course load for any sane person, she’d managed to enrol in a couple of astronomy subjects “just for interest”.

So we kept in touch, but only barely. I’d copy her in on my annual happy-new-year message along with everybody else in my phone book, and she’d return the greeting, and that was about the extent of it. It would be another two years after that late-night rescue mission before we met again.

* * * * *

Once again it began with a call out of the blue. This time it wasn’t in the middle of the night, but the timing was nearly as bad. I was about to head overseas for a year-long postdoc in Leipzig, and I had a mountain of packing and tidying to get through before I flew out in the morning. I didn’t even have Edgar to help; he’d been called away to visit a relative at short notice.

I told Anjali I couldn’t chat just then, and she said it was no problem, but she sounded disappointed. So I added: “You can come over and talk while I pack, if you like? I’d love to catch up.” And she did.

She’d changed, and she hadn’t. Although she’d filled out a little and gained an inch or two in height, she still wore the big owl-glasses, and the shalwar kameez that I remembered from our tutoring sessions. She still lived with her parents.

I thought she’d matured considerably. She seemed much more comfortable in her own skin now, no longer in such a rush to impress me. Nor was she so easily shocked; between my gothic tastes and Edgar’s fondness for power metal, the flat was decorated in a style that would have horrified seventeen-year-old Anjali, but the nineteen-year-old edition didn’t bat an eyelid.

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In the dim light in the alley, we are visible to anyone passing by who might turn and look our way. Their attention drawn by either a movement or a sound from us. But neither of us cares.

The alley is close to the cross street that runs in front of the club half a block from us. Music drifts to us, loud then muted as the door open and closes with the club’s filling. The lateness of the night only seems to attract more customers.

I’m leaning backwards with my shoulders pressed against the wall, my hands holding up my skirt. At your instruction, I came without panties and my pussy is pushed forward with my legs spread enough so you can slap me.

“Yes Baby,” the words whispered to me, “your pussy needs a good slap fucking doesn’t it?”

I nod, responding, “Yes mistress…” and I hold my skirt higher. I see your smile return as you move slightly to the right of me. With my free hand, I reach out and touch your face. Whispering how beautiful you are, how lucky I am and how I love you.

Your hand rubs my slick pussy then draws back for a little smack to get me started. “And I love my baby,” your palm landing flat against my pussy.

I jump a little at the first slap, eyes flashing as I look at you.

Your finger stray a bit and they separate my lips. Wetting them as they move between my lips before you touch a fingertip to my clit, coaxing it out. Then you gently squeeze it between your fingers and pull it.

My clit tingles and buzzes as you play with it and I moan loudly, again both forgetting and not caring about the public location we have chosen. The buzzing in my head too as your lips breathe in my ear, “Pull back your hood for me…your clit needs a good slap fucking.”

Both of my hands move to my sex and I pull my lips and finger my hood back for you, exposing my clit.

“Yes baby, that’s the way.” Your hand slowly and rhythmically striking at my clit causing me to flinch with each slap. “Mmmmm, I love how your body jerks for me.”

As you continue, I raise up on my toes with each slap making me want to jump six feet into the air. The sting turning to burning so sweet, and spreading deeper into my body.

“Tell me…how is it?”

I run my tongue over my dry lips then forcing a whisper from between them. “So good. More. Please.”

“Of course,” and you give me several quick short slaps. “I can Ümraniye Escort feel your clit swelling and warming for me.” I’m swaying a bit as I near the crest and your eyes see that I’m only a few stinging strikes away from it. Then you land a solid slap directly squared on my throbbing clit.

If not for the wall behind me, I would have fallen backwards with the last strike. My vision blurred, I touch my buzzing, burning clit with one finger, sending a huge current of electrical shock from it to deep inside me. Shaking my head to clear it, I look at you, “You are so good to your bitch.”

You lips find me and your kiss is loving and long. You end it by softly biting my lips as you grab my pussy and pull my clit hard. Then you let go and slap it wickedly and hard, harder than before. Your other hand moving to hold me by the neck against the wall to steady me as you smack my now red pussy several more times.

I gasp and cry out, cumming, feeling my clit exploding with bolts of pure wired sparks with each slap of your hand.

You lean your chest against mine to brace me. Alternating rubbing my pussy with the occasional small smack to bring me down slowly. In the throes of my passion, I am kissing you: your lips, your face, your neck. Shaking uncontrollably.

You voice soft but clear, “Is my Baby’s pussy ready for a good night now?” Kissing me then pulling back so I can see your broad smile. I know that I was correct to ask you for a good slap fucking on the way here.

I hug you, answering with a long deep kiss. Purring, “Yes, I feel so puffy and full now,” knowing how you love me like that.

“You know I find it so sexy when you ask me for what you want, especially when you so willingly display yourself for me like this.”

I smile proudly then pull you closer to me, moving my legs together so they are between yours. You now straddling me in my still leaning position at the wall. Your fingers moving over me, gentle but inquisitive. “Mmmmm, so warm and yes, so puffy, so sexy.”

I pull at the front of your skirt, feeling bolder now after your earlier encouragement. Your pussy is just above mine and I tilt my head forward. “My pussy is burning…please piss on me.”

I see your grin, your eyes dancing in the flicking alley light. A soft kiss on my lips. “Pull down my panties baby.”

In Ümraniye Escort Bayan a mad rush, I shift upright, quickly pulling them down your legs. Helping you step out of them and holding them tight in my hand. I reposition myself, placing my legs back between yours. My puffy pussy just under you.

“Hand them to me.”

I have them in my right hand and I raise it to you, “Yes mistress,” kissing your cheek softly.

I place them in your palm then watch as you step back and hold them between your legs. You spurt a stream of urine over them. I gasp as I watch you soak them then as you step forward, back over my red burning swollen pussy. Another hot stream and you cover my sex with it.

I hold our skirts up out of the way, so we can watch. And as your piss hits me, my mouth opens in a wide “O”. The hot/cool/wet sensation on my burning pussy amazing.

You tense and your stream slows, then stops. “How does that feel?” Your voice showing the strain of holding yourself back.

“Perfect, wonderful… Thank you.” The remains of your piss running down my legs, into my shoes.

“Good.” Your hands pushing me at the shoulders, down down down to my knees before you. I see your body pull back so you can see me better as you aim at my face. My mouth opening.

Letting go, you shoot another stream that hits me square on the face and open mouth. Splashing into my hair and running down my face and cheeks. “Oh I love how you shine with it!”

As you cover me, my heart soars with the knowledge and joy at truly being your bitch, your whore, your slut.

One hand holding your skirt, the other grips my head and you push forward. Rubbing your pussy on my head, drying yourself on me and getting every last drop in my hair. I move my head to help dry you.

You ask me for my bag. I find it on the ground and hand it up to you. You search it, finding my brush which you use to tenderly brush my piss soaked hair back over my ears. Leaving it slick and tight to my head.

My tongue goes out and licks at the small streaks of wetness that fell upon your legs. Smiling up at you before you pull me to my feet. You raise your hand, reminding me of the piss soaked panties in your fist. Then lowering your hand, you rub them over my wet swollen mound.

We are kissing again. Your fingers pushing the panties Escort Ümraniye between my legs, between my lips, forcing them gently but slowly inside me. “Let someone find these baby.” Your voice so wicked as you whisper to me.

I moan out loudly, the coolness of them soothing yet exciting me. I reach down to hold myself open for you to aide in your inserting them. My voice full of rekindled lust, “Man or woman?”

Your fingers working, the fabric disappearing until just a small piece hangs out. “Oh do you feel like a cock whore tonight?” The grin on your face tells me that is exactly what you want.

My pussy holds tight, needlessly, to your panties as if there was any danger in them falling out. But my body wants them as they are yours and soaked with your sweet piss. “As you wish my love, I will suck cock if you desire it.”

“I suppose you need some, its been a while hasn’t it?”

“Yes my love. It has been some time since I was with a man.”

“And besides, since my bitch is already covered in piss, you can have a cum bath before I take you home to bathe you in the tub.”

I can’t help but smile at the thought of cum added to my hair crosses my mind. And I look down the street at the club beckoning. You turn that direction as well.

“Will you wait for me here, or come with me to pick?”

“You can pick them out,” said with a loud giggle. “I’ll wait here in the alley.”

I give you a wanton grin, followed by a light kiss before I straighten my skirt and start down the street.

Ten steps away you call to me. “Would you like me to go get a room at that little motel or do you want to do them ‘al fresco’,” the words tossed to me with a laugh.

I turn and think for a moment, “Perhaps a room would be best.”

Seeing you moment me waving your finger for me to come back, I run. My heels clicking on the concrete.

“Yes my love?”

I’m greeted with a sweet kiss, “You know that they will want you over and over in a room right?”

Now its my turn to giggle, “Yes and that won’t do. They are only a means to an end…”

“Oh, I will end you, believe me. But they can help exhaust you, and you are so beautiful in that state.”

I give you a knowing smile. “Of course my love, I am only yours.” Kissing you quick and hard, “You put me in this state!”

“Now go and find some men that make you happy.” Your instruction passed between kisses and a soft caress of my face.

I beam with pride that you trust me so and I scurry down to the club, determined to make you proud of me.

“Let’s get you covered in cum and piss so I can take you home,” echoes in the alley as I turn into the street.

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As you walk down the hallway of the apartment complex to your room, you think about what a long hard day at work you had and how glad you are that it is finally over. As you walk past your neighbor’s door you notice that the door is partially open.

You knock softly. “Hello?”

There is no sound from inside, so you slowly push the door open a bit further. You hear soft music playing and the room is lit with small candles placed around the room. You see no one as you step into the apartment.

“Jessica?” You enquire as you walk further into the room.

You hear soft sounds coming from a partially open door to the left. You slowly walk over to the door when you hear a slapping sound and a moan. You are just about to call out to your neighbor again when you peer into the room and stop short. Her name dieing on your lips as you see her on hands and knees on the bed, another woman kneeling behind her with a paddle.

You Maltepe Escort look at Jessica’s rosy ass and you feel yourself becoming increasingly aroused. You stand silently as the woman lightly paddles Jessica’s perfect ass. Jessica moans softly with each slap of the paddle.

The other woman puts down the paddle and grabs something else. She pushes Jessica down on the bed on her back and straddles her. You watch as she runs a large purple feather along Jessica’s arms. The feather moves to her nipples and they harden instantly at the touch of the feather against them. Jessica moans softly and spreads her legs a bit farther apart.

Your hard cock throbs as you get a view of her glistening nether lips. Jessica is shaved with a tiny patch of red above her lips. You stroke yourself through your pants as you watch the other woman move a hand behind her to Jessica’s sex.

Her fingers gently brush Maltepe Escort Bayan against her swollen lips. Jessica moans loudly and lifts her hips against the other woman’s fingers. The other woman continues to tease her, slowly running her fingers up and down the sides of her lips.

Jessica spreads her legs farther apart opening her lips, her swollen clit glistening with her juices.

“Oh my god, Sara!” Jessica moans as Sara finally lets her fingers slide inside Jessica’s lips. Sara circles Jessica’s clit with her fingers as Jessica thrusts her hips against her hand. Jessica’s breath starts coming in short gasps as Sara rubs her clit faster.

After a few minutes Jessica’s moans have become louder and you can tell she is nearing orgasm. Her whole body begins to tremble as her hips thrust against Sara’s fingers.

You feel your balls begin to tighten as you near your own orgasm. Escort Maltepe You stop rubbing yourself, you don’t want to cum just yet.

As Jessica’s orgasm ends, Sara moves into the 69 position. Jessica eagerly nuzzles against Sara’s pussy and begins licking her vigorously. Sara moans as she lowers herself to Jessica’s dripping pussy.

You watch as her tongue flicks over Jessica’s clit, then moves lower and laps up her cum. Jessica grinds her hips against Sara’s mouth as she inserts her tongue.

The site and sound of both women eating each other is driving you wild. You take your throbbing cock out and begin to stroke it vigorously.

Both women’s moans are growing louder as they work each other nearer to orgasm, each bucking against the others face as their tongues dance along their clits. Jessica’s muffled moans grow louder as you see her body quivering in orgasm.

You stifle a moan of your own as you shoot your load on the door as Sara begins to convulse in the throws of her own orgasm. You back away from the door as you hear the moans dieing down. You quickly walk out and shut the door behind you.

What a nice ending to a stressful day at work you think to yourself as you let yourself in to your apartment.

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So… this is my first shot at any kind of competitive writing. Let’s hope it goes down well ‘cuz only I know how long I slaved in front of the computer, trying to make the deadline.

Thanks to those who persuaded me to post this; I would be nothing without your support and encouragement.

Also, this one’s for my editor, who’s currently plotting pre-meditated murder. I’ll always love you, even when you hold a knife to my throat.

Don’t forget to vote and enjoy this! ~L.

*

“Paging Miss Summers. Miss Summers, please proceed to the General Office.”

The bleep of the PA system sent a spark of excitement – or was it relief? – through me. It was the third day of the open house for Junior Colleges, and this was the first time that I’d been beeped to meet with a student or parent. It was a depressing fact, that – especially when the other teachers seated around you couldn’t get back to their seats for ten minutes before they were paged to be met with again. Thus, you could tell why I’d be excited to be paged to meet with someone who was actually interested enough in the English Language to want to meet with me.

Patting my straight, strawberry-blonde hair in place as I passed a mirror, I quickly descended the stairs from the Staff Room that led to the office. The five-inch heels on my feet clicked loudly as I flung the glass doors open with a flair that was probably too much for a drab day in school.

“Peggy,” I said, slightly breathlessly to the receptionist. “You paged?”

“Yes. Someone wanted to speak to you,” Peggy returned in her sharp, Chinese accent. I followed her nod to someone who was standing in front of the notice boards, her hands shoved deep in her pockets. A student, I thought, dressed in faded, holey jeans and a black shirt. Her hair was short, straight and curled slightly around her neck. Skin the color of milk coffee told me that she was probably Indian or Malay.

I cleared my throat and she turned, her hands still in her pockets. The first thing I noticed about her was her eyebrow ring, something I hadn’t seen on anyone in a long time. And even if I had, I was sure that it wouldn’t look as good on others as it did on her. The gold of it made her dark skin look absolutely stunning, which gave me a good first impression of her. I was always impressed by someone who knew how to make themselves look good. It spoke of their confidence and self-understanding, I suppose.

I extended my hand. “I’m Candy Summers, English Lit and Creative Writing lecturer.”

Her hand was warm in mine when she grasped it. The handshake was strong and confident, not like most people’s, who shook my hand as though they were afraid that they would break the petite little blonde, expat teacher. One point for Miss Eyebrow-piercing.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Alex.”

And with her first words, she earned another point from me; she also made me realize that she was different from the average student. Believe me when I say that not many students in Singapore use ‘Hey’ as part of their daily vocabulary. In fact, I’d almost forgotten that there was such a word after two years of living abroad. Here, most people stuck to ‘Hello’, ‘Hi’ or simply, ‘Wassup, ‘cher.’ Yeah, ‘Hey’ was a rarity indeed. I was starting to like this girl.

“I’m actually,” she continued, reaching into her backpack for her notebook, “interested in the Creative Writing course that the school offers.”

Clear grammar. Good lord, another point.

“Of course, sure. Let’s take a seat and we can discuss it.” I smiled, thinking that this girl in my class would be a godsend. Only I knew how grumpy the students could get when they were posted to an English class only because they hadn’t done well enough to get into their beloved Science and Math classes. Having one student who was actually interested in the subject would be a really nice change.

We sat – with me crossing my legs and her sprawling on the chair in a very guy-like manner, which reminded me of a friend from home. I watched her every movement as she flipped open the very-worn black notebook of hers and started asking me questions pertaining to the course.

I answered each one of them as carefully as possible, my eyes flickering to the eyebrow piercing every one in a while when she raised her eyebrows at something I said. I found that I liked looking at it, although I knew that she would have to take it off if she was enrolled in the school.

After she was all out of questions, I decided to ask her some, just to pick at her brain a little. I wanted to know if she was as good as seemed to be, or if it was just a front she put on.

I un-crossed my legs as she leaned forward to listen to me. As she did so, a slight whiff of her perfume drifted to me… wait, was that perfume or cologne? I shook my head clear of those thoughts.

“As you know, in the class, we’re going to re-visit some of the basic syntax/punctuation Kartal Escort rules. Is your foundation of the language strong?” I asked, trying to sound as formal as the informal thoughts running through my head. It wouldn’t do me good to admire a student in that way. Besides, I wasn’t even gay.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” she said with a smile. Well, it wasn’t really a smile. Just a tilting of the corners of her shapely lips. It reminded me of the smiles that Vamps and Werewolves gave their preys before they bit them; the kind of smile that says ‘I’m totally harmless, baby.’ It looked good on her.

“All right, then. Let me ask you a couple of questions,” I said after clearing my throat. Jeez, there was something playing around in there. “At which point do you use a semi-colon instead of a full-stop?”

I still remembered asking that question to the previous batch of students that I’d taught. The responses had been… horrible.

“Hmm,” she said, obviously thinking of how to phrase her words. “I usually just follow my gut on punctuations… but I have to say that I’d use a semi-colon when I have an idea that flows through two sentences. Because if I insert a full-stop between the two, the sentences would appear to have different ideas, when the idea is, in fact, the same. Is that right?”

I was shocked. “Yes. Yeah!” I said around a pretty bright smile. That was exactly right! Wow, I thought. The girl was good for a seventeen year-old. “Where did you learn that?”

She shrugged. “Just picked it up along the way.”

“That’s good. That’s really good.” I was still smiling. The girl held so much potential that if she got into my class, I knew I’d be squeezing every last drop of creativity and imagination from her. I mean, after years of teaching kids who didn’t want to learn, won’t any teacher get excited when she managed to catch someone who actually did want to excel in the subject?

“Can I ask you something?” she said as she put away her notebook.

“Sure,” I retuned, watching the way her loose jeans hugged her thighs as she reached over for her backpack. They were nice thighs; I could tell that they were well-muscled.

“Where do you call home? I can’t place the accent and it’s killing me,” she said, then licked her lips. I had to tell myself to look away.

“Home’s New York,” I replied, “It’s just that I’ve been traveling a lot, and that kind of mangled my accent.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s cool,” she nodded, rising to her feet. I followed suit, adjusting my skirt as I did so. When I turned to her, I came to realize that even in my heels, I barely reached her chin. Granted, I was only five foot two without the extra height, but she was really tall. Especially for an Asian. Where Asian women were usually my height, she was definitely at least six feet tall.

I took a step back so that I didn’t have to crane my neck too much to look into her eyes.

“I’ve got to get going,” she said, looking at her watch, “I’ve got a couple more schools to check out before the day’s out.”

“Yes, of course,” I said, holding out my hand again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Alex.” The statement was one from my heart, for it had been a pleasure for me. It wasn’t every day that you found someone who was as crazy about a language as yourself, for I could tell that she was crazy, especially from the way she drawled in perfect grammar and tense. It was darn sexy, even I had to admit.

“It most definitely was,” she said with that perfect smile.

“Do you need help in finding the main road?” I asked when we exited the General Office. I knew how confusing the school compound could be on a first visit, but I hadn’t expected Alex to take me up in my offer for directions. She seemed like the macho I-don’t-need-any-help-from-you kind of person. Obviously, I was wrong in that aspect.

“Yeah. That’ll be nice. Which way’s the bus stop?”

I started to draw a mental map out for her, but decided against the confusing thing. “Aw, hell. Come on. I’ll show you.”

I walked a couple of steps ahead of her, leading her away from the main building. A wind was picking up, and I looked back at her as it blew against us.

I commanded my salivary glands to stop working on overdrive, but it was no use. The sight of Alex’s black shirt plastered to her flat tummy was too sexy for me not to ogle for a few seconds. God, she looked like one of the guys on Baywatch.

Midway through my ogle-fest, I misjudged a step and lost my footing. Being the clutz that I was, coupled with the heels, would’ve sent me sprawling down the excitingly long flight of stairs. But you-know-who just had to be as quick as the suave, hot guys in romance novels, and reach out to steady me.

“Whoa,” she said, a little more loudly than her usual drawl. “Careful there. Those heels weren’t meant for brisk walking.”

I gave her a tight smile, for her hand on my shoulder was unnerving. Kartal Escort Bayan If I’d been absolutely truthful to myself, I would’ve said her touch had made me hot.

But I wasn’t being truthful.

“Yeah. I’d have to agree with that. Well, um, the main road’s just a hundred meters that way. You can find the bus stop on your left.” I pointed in to the right, feeling my heart-rate accelerating for some unknown reason. OK, I knew the reason. It was because she was standing so close to me again. I took a step back. Was it just me, or was that the second time that I had to do that?

“All right, then. Thank you, Miss Summers,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. I narrowed my eyes at her retreating back. There had been something wrong with the way she had said my name, like she was being kinky with me, or as though we were in a role-play session. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she was hitting on me. But why would she do that?

For obvious reasons, the little voice in my head replied. Because she thinks you’re cute.

Yeah, but I’m also her teacher, and probably at least ten years older than her.

So?

What do you mean, ‘so?’

So, what difference does it make?

It makes a hell of a lot of difference. She’s not even legal, yet!

Yes, she is. Sixteen is the legal age for sex here, and you know it.

No, I don’t.

Yes, you do.

Oh, just shut up.

*

She didn’t sign up for the course.

That was the first thing that hit me when I looked at the attendance sheet of the new JC1 Creative Writing class that year. No matter how many times I looked through it, the names didn’t change and I clearly didn’t see an Alex on it anywhere. To say that I was disappointed didn’t cut it. Over the past three weeks, I’d looked forward to having her in my class. Not for the fact that I thought she’d hit on me, but for the fact that I knew she was good in English, and I wanted to read what her writing would be like. I’d thought about her frequently, especially when the students in my JC2 classes bored the hell out of me with the calculated, pre-packaged answers from their English text or guide books. Somehow, I knew that Alex would have answers of her own, other than the ones in her textbook.

So, when I didn’t see her on the attendance sheet, I marched into my new class like a cranky old bear, hiding the frown on my face with a plastic smile. The student’s stood as I came in, looking identical in their uniforms. They sat, one by one, as I ticked off their names for attendance. Then, when I came to the final name on my fifteen-name list, I began reading it, just as someone interrupted me.

“You can call me Alex, Miss Summers.”

I started. Damn it! That voice! I didn’t know if I was happy to hear it or not. On one hand, it made my gut tie up into funny knots. But on the other, it meant that I would be having her in my class for the next two years. I decided to look on the positive side. I’d at least have one student who was devoted to the class.

“Alex,” I announced, “I see you made it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There was just something about the way she said it… was she mocking me?

If anyone should be mocked, I thought, it should be her. The compulsory uniform that she wore looked pretty ridiculous on her, after the jeans and T-shirt I’d seen her in the other day. The red skirt almost made her look girly. It was laughable, especially since she looked darned uncomfortable in her attire.

“All right,” I said, turning away from the class and picking up a marker. It was time to get down to business. “My name is Miss Candy Summers…”

The rest of the class flew right by, especially when I realized that some of the pupils in the class were also genuinely interested in the art of writing creatively. I answered as many questions as possible before the bell rang, noticing that Alex never did raise her hand to ask me a thing. But, I was curious about my students’ abilities, and so, before they left, I handed out an assignment: 800 words on a topic of their choice by next week. A few of them groaned at this, but most of them looked intrigued.

They came forward to grab the instruction sheet as they left, and as I guessed, Alex was the last one. I smiled when I noticed that one side of her skirt was higher than the other, and that her shirt was hanging out partially. She could’ve gotten in trouble for that, but I doubted that she cared, and I wasn’t about to start nagging. I tried to keep the laugh to myself, but as she passed my table, I could’ve sworn she murmured, “It’s not funny.”

But that made it a hell of a lot funnier.

*

As I’d predicted, Alex turned out to be one of my best students. No, she still didn’t ask many questions in class, but the assignments she handed in were better than most of the short stories that published authors write. The first story I read by Escort Kartal her was one entitled, ‘Stranger’. She talked about a man whom she’d just met, and how they were having this very normal conversation. But in the end, there was a twist in the story, and the man she’d been talking to was actually her father. That was the start of a very long list of interesting stories she sent my way. I mean, the other students in class were pretty good as well, but she was outstanding. The eloquent way she used her vocabulary really drew the reader in and played with their minds. That, and the fact that she was the only student who cussed in her assignments. Cussing was all right with me, as long as it furthered the plot. And with her, it definitely did.

I saw her around school almost everyday, hanging out with a group of girls who looked like they had really bad-ass attitudes. There was also this petite, fragile-looking Chinese girl who hung around Alex a lot. And more than once, I’d seen Alex put her arms around the girl. I’d raised my eyebrows at that, but didn’t say anything.

I was so not affected.

It was late one evening, about six months into the school year, when I had some sort of confirmation that Alex was, indeed, gay. I’d just finished meeting with the Arts faculty in the school, and it was really late. Besides that, the meeting room had been freaking cold, and I really had to pee. My briefcase was already in my hand, and I had no reason to walk up to the third floor just to use the staff toilet, so I made my way to the student one on the first floor instead. Teachers didn’t really use student toilets, but I was willing to bet that there weren’t any students in school anymore, so what harm could it do?

At first, I didn’t hear anything, and I thought the whole place was empty since it was nearly six. I clickity clacked into a stall and unzipped the pleated black skirt that hung just above my knees. It was while I was handling business when I heard the ruffling. With a frown, I listened closely to the noise. It was coming from the last stall. Faint rustling of clothes, then a giggle. I rolled my eyes, sighing. College kids. They knew that sexual activities on campus weren’t allowed, but they had to break the rules. Well, I thought – been there, done that.

As I pushed my way out of the stall, the door to the last stall opened and out came the little China-doll that hung around Alex all the time. Her face was flushed and her eyes held a just-fucked twinkle that I really didn’t want to see… especially when I noticed the someone who was standing behind her.

“Alex,” I said, giving her a once-over. There was nothing amiss about her except for the locks of hair standing like spikes on her head. I could just imagine how her normally flaccid hair had become spikey.

“Miss S,” she replied, giving me that lazy smile. She obviously knew that I knew what they’d been doing. And it brought a lick of flame to my cheeks.

“Who’s your friend?” My voice sounded weird, even to myself.

“Oh, this is Mindy, my girlfriend.” It was said without the slightest of hesitation, as though she was proud of the little porcelain doll.

I gritted my teeth.

“Mindy,” I said, grabbing a paper towel to dry my wet hands. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, but I’m afraid that I have to leave now. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Alex.” With that, I turned on my heels and walked out the swinging toilet doors, clenching my fists when I heard the giggling in the toilet start again.

OK, I was pissed, but I didn’t know why. Alex was just a student, and it shouldn’t matter to me if she was fucking the bloody Queen of England. As long as she produced results and gave me no trouble, I shouldn’t find any fault with her. But the problem was, I had felt this searing pain when dollface had stepped out of the stall in front of Alex. I couldn’t really explain it; I couldn’t really place what I felt, either. It was a feeling of something between anger, pain and jealousy. And why either feeling should rise in me, didn’t make any sense at all.

I drove home in a pretty shitty mood, honking at drivers that I normally wouldn’t honk at. Every radio station seemed to hate me, and even the traffic lights had plotted against me. But after the third honk at some poor soul, I managed to convince myself that I was merely PMSing and wasn’t angry at what I’d seen back in school. It took me the whole ten minutes of the drive to tell myself that, and even after that, I didn’t feel a whole lot better.

That night, I did nothing but indulge in a tub of Cookies and Cream ice cream, neglecting the scripts that I had to look through for my Lit class. That was a first for me. I’d never neglected work before, but there was always a first time for everything. As I stared at another episode of a re-run of Friends on TV, my mind couldn’t resist wandering back to the episode this evening. The look on Alex’s face… like a contented, well-satisfied woman. I realized that I wanted to put that look there – which was absurd, since I wasn’t even a lesbian. A large spoonful of ice cream went into my mouth. No, I definitely wasn’t a lesbian, and I needed to stop thinking of my student as a sex toy. She was off-limits, for god’s sake.

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