Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 8

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That evening, in a flurry of WhatsApp messages, the arrangements were made for Kirsty to come over to mine, ostensibly to help each other with homework. As soon as the door was closed, though, we were embracing, our teenage bosoms heaving, our lips locked, our fingers on each other’s hairless, beautiful, rapidly moistening vulvae.

Our clothes flew off, and pretty soon, we were in the 69 position, Kirsty on top. I grasped her butt-cheeks to gain purchase and lifted my head up to graze on her snatch, and her long blonde hair brushed my inner thighs as her tongue plunged between my folds. Something had changed, though. It was not unpleasant, just… “You taste different,” I said.

“So do you,” her voice came back from beyond my hips. Then she gasped. “Oh my God, you had sex with a guy today!” It was not accusing. If anything, she sounded delighted.

“So have you!” I agreed, for indeed, I recognized the flavour of male ejaculate mixed in with her feminine musk.

“That’s such a relief,” she said. “I was worried you might think we were going steady or something, and I really want to fuck lots of different people.”
With that, she dove back in and, for a while, our mouths were occupied by things other than speaking. The intriguing taste was soon washed out by my saliva, but I delighted in probing out the remaining vestiges of it that hid between folds and under flaps. Kirsty seemed to be enjoying my search too, judging by her squeals when my tongue delved particularly deep. Not that I had much attention left to devote to my other senses, most of it being taken up by the marvellous feelings she was causing between my own legs.

My questing tongue must have done the trick, because she came slightly before I did. I got a fascinating close-up view of her pussy pulsing and spasming as she climaxed, then a seeming gushing of natural lubricant coated my face. Before I could clear my eyes, my own orgasm overtook me, and I could not resist pressing the back of her head into my crotch for maximum penetration at the final moment.

She rolled off, and we lay for a while, gasping, staring at my dull, off-white ceiling.
“So who was it?” I heard her ask.

I knew exactly what she meant. “Daniel Whittaker,” I answered. “Nobody important.”

“Huh. How was it?”

I grinned. “Amazing.” I sat up, pulling my arm out from under Kirsty’s thighs. “So who fucked you?”

“Mr Adams.”

I drew in a shocked breath. “The P.E. teacher?!”

She nodded. From here, gazing across her smooth mons, down her trim belly, across her generous chest to the wickedest smile imaginable, she looked particularly alluring.
“Now this I have to hear,” I said, resting my head back in her lap. “Tell me all about it.”

“Well, ever since we shaved, I just love touching myself. I’m guessing it’s the same for you. It’s just so smooth and silky, then so slick, and then… well, orgasms are the best!” Her hand strayed towards her crotch, but I pushed it aside and put my own fingertips to work.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, before continuing. “The problem is that, at school, there aren’t many opportunities to do that without being noticed. A couple of times, I caught myself starting up without thinking, and had to cool off before anyone noticed. By lunchtime, when I headed off to one of the loos near the art building, I was ready to explode. In fact, I think I almost did: another girl knocked on the cubicle door and asked if I was okay because I was making so much noise.” She giggled. “I seriously considered inviting her in to find out.”

“Maybe next time,” I interjected, not looking up from my work massaging her clitoris.

She paused, and might have nodded her blonde head again; I could not see from where I was. “In any case, that cooled me down until about halfway through the next lesson, so I was raring to go again when the last lesson of the day came along, which was P.E. Honestly, I didn’t think I was into girls, but all of that bare flesh in the changing room nearly drove me wild. I am so glad our games uniforms don’t show up moisture well, because my crotch was sopping after an hour-and-a-half of watching them bending over their hockey sticks, shorts riding up to show their camel-toes and their butts waving at me. My mind was full of images of them doing the same, but without those inconvenient clothes, or any nasty hair.” Her hand reached out and touched my own bald groin.

“At the end of the lesson – the end of the day – I changed slowly, and got in the shower late. If I had seen them all naked, I think my senses would have overloaded and I would have come right there. Just the last few was enough that I couldn’t resist touching myself. I stayed in there as I heard them all leave, letting the water slide down my body, and rubbing my clit.

“I was well on the way when I realized someone was still there, at the edge of the showers. Mr Adams was watching me, and he could see that I was masturbating. Except I didn’t want to stop, so I carried on. I kept expecting him to interrupt me, but he kept watching. I started playing up to it, giving him a show, moaning louder than I needed to, and that just got me even hotter. He had to be enjoying me getting off, and that meant he was getting aroused by me. So I invited him in.”

“Wow. What did you do?”
“I just said, ‘I see you there, Mr Adams. Do you like what you see? Why don’t you come and finish me off?’ He seemed uncertain, so I tried again. ‘Come on in.