Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 12

The pace increased, our hands all over each other’s bodies: backs and breasts (I don’t know when my shirt came undone, I don’t remember either of us loosing the buttons) and bums, hair and hips. Then he leaned in, his arms under my armpits, grasped my shoulders from behind, and heaved, an ecstatic groan losing itself in the hair at my shoulder.

The sensation was astonishing: I don’t know what that shaver did to me, but I could feel him cumming inside me, a flow of warm liquid at the gate of my cervix. Warmth and joy exploded from my loins, and it was all I could do to keep the volume of my cries down. I gripped him back and rode the high.

His heavy breathing brought me back to reality, and I knew I had a job to do. “There there there,” I began, whispering into his ear as if I were calming a baby. “That was good. You’re a good boy.” I stepped back, and his rapidly softening penis slipped out of me to hang, slightly pitifully. A drop of cum slipped off the end, and hung, on a string of jizz, a few inches down.

I looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m not your girlfriend,” I began sternly. “We are not a couple. We don’t even know each other.” I turned around, bending over to pick up my skirt, and I knew he had a great view of my pussy lips, with his white semen just starting to leak out. From that position, I turned around to look at him, and was delighted to see the clear expression of awe on his face. “If you do everything right, I may let you have another go some time.” I wiggled my pert bum at him, then stood back up. “But if you breath anything about this to a single other living soul, you have no chance. No. Chance. Got it? Not your best friend, not your mother, not your priest, nobody. This happens in secret, or not at all. I said got it?!” I raised my voice, with a whip-crack on the final syllables.

He nodded, and I smiled. I knew that he would not tell. I had him wrapped around my finger. I wandered over to one of the toilet stalls, doing up my shirt. I reached in, grabbed some toilet paper and quickly wiped up the mess around my groin. Then I tossed it negligently in the loo and flushed. Finally, I re-fastened my skirt, brushed my hair back, and I looked once again the picture of the prim and proper young lady.

At the door, I turned back once more. “Remember, not a word. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me. Your chance of access to my pretty little pussy ever again depends entirely on your ability to keep your mouth. Shut.” Then I swung the latch, and left. I took to my slightly ungainly heels as soon as I got out, making sure that I was round the corner before he exited, and made another couple of turnings after that, just in case he thought to follow me. When I picked up my bag and checked my phone, it was no more than 5 minutes before lunch’s end, so I hurried to my first afternoon class.

~#~

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.