Chapter 3
Chris Poston had stood at the front of the classroom, watching from the corner of her eye, hoping . . . hoping . . .
Jim nearly hadn't gone with Betty. He'd stopped and looked back at her and had gazed at her with that wonderful, adoring expression of his, and Chris could have cried with happiness.
But then he'd spun away to run after the full butt, the big tits, the promise of Betty's easy, free-loving cunt, and Chris knew she'd lost him forever.
"Jim, wait . . . " she'd called.
But he hadn't heard her. He was gone.
Sighing with heavy sadness, Chris Poston felt her pussy do something very strange inside. It seemed to swell and gape, and the walls felt as if they were drawing apart, giving her the feeling of a great emptiness inside her.
She wrapped her arms around her body and hugged her soft-tipped breasts and shivered slightly. Tears stung her eyes. She gathered up her books and notes and held them against her breasts, blinking the fuzziness from her eyes. She went out into the hall and started toward her office.
Pimple-faced boys grinned at her and craned their necks and made dirty whispers behind her back. She quickened her steps. She hated that. They thought they were cool and worldly. Christ, they thought they were appealing!
Little punks. She wondered what was the matter with girls these days, spreading their legs to let the Benders of Glenville High fuck them-and even pop their cherries! And then to go around thinking they'd been honored instead of used!
She paused in front of the alcove door leading to her office and Burt's.
He was another one, that Jenkins.
So suave and cool, and so goddamn beautiful.
His problem was that he knew it. It went to his head. It gave him an ego problem. And that made him no different from the Benders of Glenville. Not at all. Only a little older.
She looked at the books in her arms. She didn't want to take them home with her. She closed her eyes a moment and prayed silently that Burt wasn't in his office.
She was so tired of his constant badgering for a date. He didn't want a date, he wanted a piece of her ass, nothing more. She'd nearly gotten sick a little while earlier when he'd come up to her and leaned against the doorway, oozing false sincerity at her, God, it had dripped from him as if he bought it by the gallon!
How many times had other men done that to her? And how many times had she been stupid enough to fall for it?
She pushed open the door angrily and closed it behind her, staring at Jenkin's open door. His light was out. Did she dare hope he wasn't there?
He wasn't. She raced into her own office anyway, slammed the door behind her and locked it. She didn't turn on the light, just in case he came back.
She put her books on her desk. She fingered things idly. She went over to the window and lifted the shade slightly and looked out on the shadowed area behind the building. She watched students mill about the school, seeing the hated swagger of the cool, cool boys, the fawning giggles and thrusting tits of the silly, stupid girls with pussies atwitter.
She turned away, feeling hollow and empty inside. She put her hand to her lap and rubbed her pussy. She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes and leaned her tight rump against the edge of her desk.
Oh, Jim, don't fuck her. Don't lose your sweet innocence and become another suave and greedy bastard . . .
She imagined his youthful, rigid prick, sweet and straight and beautiful. She saw his boyish face and his curly blond hair and the blue eyes that gazed at her with such sweet adoration.
Her pussy burst into flames. She tugged her skirt to her waist, thrust her hand into her blue panties and swirled it over her cunt, feeling the terrible sensitivity of it, the ever-present wetness from her honeyed flow.
"Oh, my God," she moaned softly.
She wanted to stop. She tried to stop. But she waddled over to her desk chair and slumped in it, sliding her buttocks to the padded edge, thrusting her legs under the desk.
She tipped her head back and knew she wouldn't stop until she'd come again. She didn't even try to stop any more.
Her fingers spread her cunt lips inside the panties and slid through the silky wetness of her slit. They teased the spiked tip of her clit until she knew that teasing wouldn't be any good.
She masturbated hard, making her fingers bear down almost cruelly on her swollen, blazing cunt. She pumped and rolled her hips in the chair as she fucked her pussy with her hand.
Jim . . . sweet Jim . . .
She pictured him again. His face was smiling as it hovered above hers. The sun caught in the yellow curls of his hair. His eyes were the same blue as the sky above him.
The scent of grass came to her, warm and sweet under the summer sun. She heard the ripple of the brook and the soft rustle of the sycamore leaves all around them at the edge of the meadow.
Then Jim's face blurred and became Howard's, and Jim's young sweet prick became Howard's as it entered her virginal body, causing sweet pain and spinning delights, changing her at that moment from a fourteen-year-old girl to a fourteen-year-old woman.
Chris lifted her buttocks from the chair and keened deep in the back of her throat and cried softly into the dimness of her locked office.
"Oh, fuck me! Fuck me hard! Fuck me full of love!"
The words blurred and became a groan of bliss. The images of the boys in her mind blurred, being first Howard's and then Jim's and then merging into one sweet, boyish, face of innocence and selfless love.
Her fingers squeezed her cunt tightly. She felt her muscles throb and spasm as she came. She felt the rush of slippery warmth inside her cunt, the silky swimming as her tissues sought the stiffness of the prick that wasn't there.
The scene faded from her mind, and the dim drabness of her office returned. She sank slowly into the chair and knew the yielding grass wasn't at her back.
She breathed harshly a moment, letting the tingles of orgasm ripple through her. There was no sun, no sky, no sycamore leaves overhead.
She sighed wearily. She felt oddly emptier than before. It was like that now. It had been like that for too long.
She slouched in the chair and blinked at the dullness of the ceiling. She was going to have to do something. She couldn't go on like this.
Howard was dead. The sweetness of their young love had died with him, eight years ago, and there was nothing she could do to bring it back.
But Jim wasn't dead. Not yet. He was upstairs in the girls' John with Betty Johnson.
When he came out, he would be dead. There would be no innocence left in him. He'd be like the others, all the others . . .
Chris sobbed softly and wiped a tear from her cheek. There had to be another Howard somewhere in this stinking world.
She needed a man. She needed to stop cloistering herself in her room like a nun or something, never going out, never curling up in the circle of a man's arms, never spreading out under the hard weight of a man's body and feeling the stiffness of his prick enter her silky pussy and bring her to a spasming, thrilling orgasm.
She needed to stop masturbating all the time. She needed to stop trying to find the honesty and sweetness she'd had with Howard . . . and with girls. That didn't work either. It was good, but it didn't work.
She needed a man. But a man who wasn't quite a man. One who wasn't out for a score, a piece of ass-full of promises and soft spoken dreams that faded to lies after he'd blown his wad in her cunt and had used her like all the others.
No, she didn't need another man like Burt Jenkins.
She needed Jim Arland . . .
So what, if he was only sixteen. Howard had been fifteen when his brother had run them into the culvert and killed him. She was now twenty-three. That was only seven years' difference. That wasn't much.
And so what, if she was his teacher. She could stop teaching. They could move. She could take care of him and support them until he was two years older and legally an adult. It had happened before. It would happen again, to other couples in love.
Only Jim wouldn't be innocent and sweet any more when Betty got through with him. He'd be another cool punk, out after a piece of ass instead of love.
God, why didn't I stop him! she raged inwardly.
She sat up in her chair, looking toward the ceiling as if able to see through the stonework into the restroom above.
Maybe it isn't too late yet . . .
She got out of her chair, impelled by a strange force inside her. She went to her door, unlocked it, went outside. The hall was empty. She went to the nearest stairs, the ones at the opposite end of the building from where Jim and Betty had gone up.
She climbed them silently, her emotions in a whirl. Her legs felt strange and rubbery after her orgasm. She prayed no one would come along and ask her why she was sneaking up the stairs.
What was she going to do? Should she barge in on them? What if he was just sticking his young, innocent prick into Betty's greedy hot cunt?
Would he hate her for stopping him? Did she dare take the risk?
She reached the top of the landing and was just ready to turn into the hallway, still wondering what to do, when she heard the yelling.
She stopped up short. It was coming from an echoing room. It was a girl's voice. Then she saw Jim Arland come flying out of the girls' restroom. Betty's swearing followed him.
Chris stood and watched with astonishment as Jim skidded and banged into the wall, then spun his feet on the slick floor as he tried to fly toward the other set of stairs.
She heard him clamber down them. Two classroom doors opened as teachers stuck their heads out to see what the racket was. Chris stood at the end of the hall and let herself dare to smile, very slowly at first, and then with growing broadness.
She turned around and went back downstairs just as the bell rang for the next change of classes. The halls were suddenly teeming with life. Students bumped into her on their hurried way, but she didn't mind. She just walked down the hall, smiling grandly, feeling certain that she hadn't lost her boyish man at all.
When she got back to her office entrance, she walked through the outer door into the littie alcove and stopped up short again. A girl stood before Burt Jenkin's office door, knocking on it.
She was a small girl, red-haired and petite, a freshman. She had to be about fourteen, Chris thought, but she looked twelve. Her little ass was tight and girlish. Her tits were no more than budding bumps on her chest, barely beginning the process of growing to maturity.
She wore her hair long. Her eyes were light blue. She swung around when Chris walked into the alcove and shut the outer door, and there was an expression on her face close to guilt.
Chris sighed inwardly. Another one for Jenkins to fuck. They got younger and younger. They couldn't hide their intentions. Their expressions betrayed them. They couldn't hide the flushed, excited little gestures and smiles. They couldn't keep their hot little asses from quivering.
"Oh-hi, Miss Poston," the girl said. "I was just trying to see if Mr. Jenkins was in. Do you know ? "
For the first time, Chris noted that his door was closed. She tried the knob. It was locked. He'd come and gone while she was on the stairs.
"He must be gone for the day," she said. She looked closely at the girl's face. It was astonishingly like Jim Arland's-the same eyes, nearly the same nose and chin and mouth, only a little more feminine and younger.
"What's your name?" Chris asked. "You're not in any of my classes are you?"
"No, I'm not. You've got my brother Jim in geometry, though. I'm Holly Arland." She glanced back at the closed door and sighed wistfully. "Well, I'll try tomorrow then. Bye."
"Holly, wait . . . "
The girl turned around. So young! So pretty! So innocent! "Yes, Miss Poston?"
Chris took in a deep breath, thinking, Burt Jenkins is not going to fuck her! "Come into my office for a minute, Holly. I want to talk to you."
The girl looked startled. Chris held her door wide and watched the girl go in. She'd really put her foot into it this time. What was she going to say?
"Sit down, Holly," Chris said. She closed the door and locked it. A pulse of excitement shot through her at the sound of the bolt, because she suddenly knew how she was going to dissuade Holly Arland from letting Jenkins fuck her.
"I can help you, Holly," she said positively, pulling a chair up beside Holly's and sitting close.
The girl looked startled, noticing that Miss Poston hadn't sat on the other side of her desk.
She fingered her books nervously.
"I-I wanted to see Mr. Jenkins about some -about-"
"I know why you wanted to see him, Holly," Chris broke in. She kept a smile on her face, her voice soft.
Holly looked down quickly and swallowed. "Y-You do?"
"You can't wait. You think it's the thing to do. You think all the girls in school but you have been fucked by a man, and you don't want to be left out. You wanted to go in there and lie on his couch and have Mr. Jenkins fuck you. Isn't that right, Holly?"
"Miss Poston!! "
"Don't lie, Holly. I know what goes on in there. And so do you." She took a quick look at the books the girl held on her lap and made a wild stab. "You don't even take biology. There can't be any other reason why you'd be going to see him."
"I-I-"
She touched the girl's cheek tenderly. "Come on, you can tell me, Holly. It's all right. I'm not scolding you. I won't tell Jim or anybody. I want to help. I know what it's like to be a young girl growing up with the need to learn and experiment. In fact," she said softly, "I know what it's like to be a woman who wants to be fucked."
The girl's eyes grew wide in astonishment.
She stared at Chris for a long moment, and the message finally sank in.
"You, Miss Poston?" she asked incredulously. "B-But you're so beautiful! The boys talk about you all the time! Why, you're about all Jim ever talks about any more!"
"Jim?"
"Oh, he's crazy about you, Miss Poston!" she blurted. She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that."
Chris smiled. "I'm glad you told me that, Holly. Can you keep a secret? Then we'll both have secrets to keep. Can you?"
"S-Sure, Miss Poston," the girl said, tilting her head in question.
Chris looked straight into her inquisitive blue eyes. "I'm crazy about Jim, too."
"You? Jimmy? My brother?" she squealed with sudden delight. "Oh, I don't believe that!"
"It's no more absurd than what you feel for Mr. Jenkins, is it, Holly?" she asked in a level, serious tone.
"But Mr. Jenkins is so handsome, so cool! And Jimmy's such a clod, Miss Poston."
"Not a clod, Holly. A sweet, sensitive boy. You'll know what I mean one day." She looked at the girl, at the tiny, tight bumps on her chest, the soft lips that were not quite full yet, the adolescent swell of her hips. She took the books from Holly's lap and set them on her desk.
"I said I could help you, Holly. Now I'm . going to."
The blue eyes widened again. "W-What are you going to do, Miss Poston?" she choked. "Have you ever been fucked, Holly."
"Sure," she said quickly. "Holly?"
"Well . . . no, Miss Poston," she responded sheepishly.
"But you want to be ? "
"Oh, I'm dying for it!" the girl cried suddenly, clasping her hands in front of her chest, shivering slightly. Her lips went suddenly slack, her face touchingly young. "You said it was a secret between us, Miss Poston."
"Yes, and it is. And to prove it, I'm going to tell you another secret of mine. I'm just dying to get your brother alone with me in my apartment and let him fuck his sweet, innocent prick into my pussy and make me come and come. That's the truth, Holly."
The girl didn't laugh this time. She stared with her mouth open and her blood pounding through her. Her face went pink, her eyes soft and bright.
"I-I've thought that too sometimes, Miss Poston," she whispered. "Isn't that terrible of me? My own brother?"
"The only terrible thing is that you've called him a clod, Holly," Chris said softly. "If-if I could do anything about it . . . oh, I wish Jim were here right now. I'd show you what I'd do about it!"
She suddenly reached out and put her arms around Holly and hugged the girl tightly, pressing her firm breasts against the tiny bumps of Holly's tits.
The girl gasped. Then her emotions overcame her shock, and she put her small arms around Chris's neck and hugged back.
"Oh, Miss Poston, I get so hot sometimes I just can't stand it! I saw Jimmy doing it to himself on his bed one night, and I nearly-oh, I wanted to go in and get on top of him and sit down on his hard prick and take it all up into my little pussy and come and come! You don't know!"
"I do know, Holly, I do!"
"I ran into my room and did it to myself again and again! I just couldn't get enough! And I kept thinking about Mr. Jenkins all the time I was doing it. And I heard about . . some of the other girls, and . . . and I just
"Are you hot now, Holly."
"Oh, yes!"
"Then do it. Right now. Let me watch you do it."
"Oh, Miss Poston!"
"I'll do it with you. You can watch me, Holly. It'll take the edge off, get the itch out of your pussy. And then you can tell Jim I want to see him. Holly, I'll teach him . . . more than geometry. And then . . . then he can teach you. Sweet Jim. You won't like what Mr. Jenkins does to you, Holly. You're so young, so small. He'll hurt you. He won't care about you. All he cares about is getting a piece of ass. Do you understand the difference, Holly?"
"I . . . I think so, Miss Poston. I really think so."
Chris couldn't stop herself. The old familiar motions came back to her hands, the ones she had learned with Shirley at Teacher's College.
She placed her open hand on Holly's crotch and pressed in firmly and gently, jiggling slightly, finding just the right spot.
"Ohhhh!" Holly gasped suddenly. "Oh, Miss Poston! You're making me hotter! Oh, you shouldn't do that!"
"I want to do it, Holly. I want you to do it to me. I want to get that wild urge out of your pussy until you can think straight and see that letting Burt Jenkins pop your cherry is not the right thing to do."
"You-you're talking like you want Jimmy to fuck me first, Miss Poston!" Holly gasped, her young thighs spreading under the pressure of Chris's hand despite herself. "My own brother! That isn't right either!"
"I'm talking about what's best, Holly, not about moral right or wrong. Jim will be tender and loving and careful and sweet when I've taught him how to fuck. Burt Jenkins is like a stud bull seeking his own pleasure."
"Have you fucked him, Miss Poston?"
"Not him. Too many like him. I know, Holly, I know. Oh, please believe me and don't waste yourself on him!"
"Ohhhh, your hand! You know just where it feels the best, don't you, Miss Poston?"
Chris smiled painfully inside. Yes, dear Holly, I know.
Her hand slid up. She pulled the blouse from Holly's jeans and bared the flat young stomach. She pulled it higher and saw the padded bra over her small tits.
How long ago it had been when she'd worn one herself. God, it was like starting over again, with a girl just like herself, only perhaps smaller.
But Chris had had the beauty and sweetness of Howard's loving to learn from. She had to stop Holly from throwing her virgin body away on an asshound like Burt Jenkins. If the only Howard available for Holly was her brother Jim, then that was simply the way it had to be.
She reached behind the girl's small back and undid the clasp of the bra. She lifted it and looked at the fresh buds of Holly's tits, the taut cones they made on her chest. She looked at the fresh pinkness of the barely-formed nipples and nearly wept at their beauty.
What a travesty it would be for one of these score-keeping young bastards to fuck that fresh, innocent body!
"Oh, Holly, they're beautiful!" Chris cried, dipping forward, opening her mouth.
Her lips made soft circles. She sucked the ends of Holly's fresh tits into her mouth, running her tongue over the nipples again and again, feeling the sensitive electric shocks jolt through the young body in her arms.
"Oh! Oh, Miss Poston! Oh, that's wonderful!" Holly cried.
Chris thought of Shirley again. There was a difference, of course. Shirley had been mature. She'd known how to diddle back. But it didn't matter just now, because Holly would soon know too.
The girl slid forward in the chair, her small buttocks resting on the edge of it. She didn't hesitate to lift her tight buttocks up when Chris began to pull the jeans down her narrow hips.
"Ohhhh, Miss Poston!" she moaned.
Her dainty hand went to her pussy the moment it was bared. Chris looked down. She'd thought it was from modesty. It wasn't. The slim fingers were already busy in the puffy, tight folds of her virginal cunt.
"That's it, Holly-do it! Do it hard! Come hard for me! Get that big stud-bull prick out of your mind and think of a sweet, tender, gentle cock for a change."
Chris stared. The girl's mound was nearly hairless. Holly had a thin, girlish patch of reddish fuzz over her cunt, and that was all. Just a hint of hair. It made Chris wonder if she'd even had her first period yet.
"Ohhhh, Holly-so sweet! So young and tender! Oh, God, don't let a dirty fucker destroy that beautiful young pussy!"
"Oh, I won't, Miss Poston! I won't!"
"Promise ? "
"Y-Yes! I promise! Oh, watch me do it! I'm doing it! Ohhh, I'm so hot! My little pussy's so hot!"
Chris gave a soft cry. She watched the busy fingers as they slid up and down the pink, puffy gap of Holly's virginal cunt and rolled over the tiny bump of her clit, making her hips jerk and twitch.
Chris put her hand between her own thighs, up under her skirt. Her fingers pulled her panty leg away from her swollen, sodden cunt. She rolled her fingers in her soft, wet meat and masturbated with Holly.
It wasn't enough. She got to her knees in front of the girl's chair. She spread Holly's legs and positioned herself between them. She knelt there and looked between the young cunt lips.
Everything was pink. Everything was fresh and clean and unused and wholesome. She could see the ragged fringe of Holly's cherry just inside the tight vaginal mouth.
"Oh, let me, let me!" she cried throatily.
She pulled Holly's hand away. She licked her soft, red lips. She dipped her head, let her mouth swell out over the pink freshness, and drank from Holly's pussy as if sucking from a young peach.
"Aaaaaieeee!" Holly cried with a keening sound. "Miss Poston!"
The girl's hips bucked upward as she pushed her sweet pussy into Chris's mouth. Her hands curled in the raven silk flowing from Chris's head, and she crooned again and again.
Chris lapped up and down the satiny groove. She flicked the tip of her tongue around the stiff young clit. She tasted the scented oils of youth flowing from Holly's pussy.
It was heady wine. As she lapped it up, she felt no guilt, no sense of perversion, no remorse. She thought along higher planes. She was glad that she had caught the girl in time, glad to have been able to save her from a brutal cocking by Jenkins.
Or one of the others, like Bender.
This girl was different. She was not in the same league with Betty Johnson. Betty was a cow. She could take a stud bull's cock and make it swim around inside her big cunt, and it wouldn't matter how much cum flowed into her hole.
But Holly was like a small bird, fragile and tiny. She couldn't take it. She would shatter and bend under such treatment. That was the kind of thing bastards like Burt Jenkins didn't understand.
The little Hollys needed tenderness, gentleness.
And Chris was going to teach that to her brother Jim, too, before he became lost to the other side.
"Oh!" Holly cried sharply, her small body jerking in the chair. "Oh, you're going to make me come, Miss Poston!"
She sounded shocked, as if it had never occured to her that one woman could make another come.
Sweet, innocent girl!
"Then come, Holly. Come hard!" Chris said, lifting her mouth from the trembling young flesh long enough to speak and to smile warmly.
"I . . . you really want . . . oh, Miss Poston! I've never done this kind of thing before! Honest, I haven't!"
"I have, darling," Chris said softly. "It's all right. It's good. It takes the yearning away. It helps. Lift your sweet pussy against my mouth and let my fluttering tongue tickle it until you come."
"In your mouth?" the girl gasped.
"In my mouth, Holly. I want you to!"
To prove she meant it, she dove down again. She wrapped her hands under the tight, firm buttocks and squeezed them. She let a fingertip play in the soft young crack of Holly's ass.
She spread her lips and opened her mouth and let her tongue flick and flutter against all the pink tissues before her face, between Holly's firm, slim thighs.
The girl moaned and shook. Her honey flowed. She lifted and groaned loudly and shuddered with great spasms of youthful energy.
"Oh, I'm coming, Miss Poston!" she cried softly. "Ahhhh! Oh, I didn't know . . . I didn't know it could be like this between two girls! Ohhhhh, I love it, I love it!"
Her virginal cunt opened wide and spasmed harshly against Chris's lips and tongue. Her tight little buttocks clenched firmly around the fingers dabbling between them, and her heels drummed on the floor. Her tits heaved up and down and were mashed by her own squeezing, pulling fingers.
Chris lifted her head slowly when the storm was over. She smiled sweetly and warmly, her cheeks and lips glistening with the dewy juices Holly had left on them.
"That's just a sample, Holly. If you liked that, then you'll love what I'm going to teach Jim to do. But you've got to promise me again, Holly."
"What, Misa Poston? Oh, anything! I'll promise you anything!"
"I want you to talk to Jim tonight. I want you to tell him I want to see him. Tomorrow. As soon as possible."
"Are you really going to let him fuck you, Miss Poston?"
"Oh, I am, Holly, I am!"
"Can I tell him that?"
"If you think he won't tell anybody. In fact, if he tells Bender or any of the others-anyone at all-then it's all off. Everything's off. Even the beauty I promised you."
"I don't think he'll tell, Miss Poston."
"There's another thing, Holly. I don't want you to let him get any ideas with you. I don't want you spreading this sweet little pussy open to his prick yet. Not just yet."
Holly shivered hotly all over. "All right, Miss Poston."
"Promise?"
"I won't let him fuck me. Not until you say so."
"Not until he's ready."
"Until he's ready," she repeated.
"Has he ever fucked a girl, Holly? Do you think he has?"
"I don't think so, Miss Poston. I'm pretty sure he hasn't, in fact. He jacks off all the time. I can hear him through the wall at night. His bed squeaks, and I can always tell.
He makes me think about it when he does that, and I imagine his stiff prick squirting out all that stuff, and then my pussy gets hot."
She moaned softly and began masturbating again, right before Chris's eyes. Her young hips swiveled and churned in the chair as heat overtook her eager body again.
Chris sat back on her heels and watched. The girl went at it with vigor, if not with too much skill. It made Chris hot just to watch, and she lifted her skirt and shoved her hand into her own panties and felt her sodden pussy again.
Holly opened her eyes and looked. She saw the knuckles of Chris's hand wriggling and bumping inside the panties.
"Oh, let me watch you, Miss Poston!" she cried.
Chris stood up. She pushed her panties down, feeling no modesty or shame. She bared her sweet cunt before the hot little girl and let Holly see what a mature pussy looked like, how it leaked, how it got swollen and red with heat.
Holly stared. She licked her lips. Her fingers flew over her little pussy with renewed vigor.
"I . . . I want . . . " she choked. "Oh, Miss Poston!" she cried, holding out both her arms toward Chris's hips.
Chris's pulse raced. The little doll!
She closed her eyes a moment. Her fingers slid up and down her drenched, flowing gap. She had a flash of memory, recalling the sweetness and thrills with Shirley.
It had been good back then. It would feel very, very good right now. It had been so long since another person had made her come, male or female, either one.
There had been too many times lately with her own fingers.
"Oh, Holly," she cried softly. "You don't have to . . . "
"I want to, Miss Poston! I really do! It felt so good for me! I want it to feel good for you, too! Oh, let me suck your pussy off the way you sucked mine off!"
Chris gave a small cry and stepped between the girl's slim thighs. She leaned forward, her tits thrusting against the satiny material of her blouse.
The little hands went around her hips. The nails dug gently into the firm flesh of her round buttocks. She felt the little puffs of breath against her abdomen, fanning warmly over her dark, damp bush.
"Ohhh, Miss Poston! It smells wonderful!"
The girl pulled. Chris couldn't stop herself. She let her hips swing forward, her pelvis rock. Then her wet bush was panting over the young, eager, sucking lips.
"Ohhhh, Holly!" she cried softly.
"Like this, Miss Poston? Is this the way?"
Her tongue flattened and came up the silky, oil-drenched groove of Chris's gap in a luscious stroke, rippling over the spiked nub of her clit at the end.
"God, yes, Holly!" Chris cried, her eyes popping wide. "Where did you learn to do that? You said you'd never sucked a girl's pussy before!"
"I haven't, Miss Poston. I learned it from you just now." She giggled with pleasure. "You're a good teacher, Miss Poston. A wonderful teacher. I can hardly wait until you've taught Jimmy how to fuck and suck and everything!"
Chris's hips shook. She closed her eyes and felt the wonderful sensations the darting, sweet tongue gave her. She thought of the stiffness of Jim's cock inside her body and how good that would feel, and she knew she wasn't going to last very long.
"Ohhhh, that's marvelous, Holly!"
"You're all wet, Miss Poston!" Holly gasped, pulling back to lick her lips with slurping sounds, like a little kitten after lapping up a saucerful of milk.
"You've made me all wet, Holly-you and Jim-just thinking about Jim, about the three of us, about how wonderful it's all going to be when we're together."
"Together?"
"Yes, dear Holly, yes!"
"Oh! Oh, I can't wait! Oh, hurry and fuck him and teach him, Miss Poston!"
She made eager little cries as she buried her head in Chris's bush again. Her fingers squeezed at the tight buttocks. Her own hips pumped up and down in the chair.
Chris opened her eyes and looked down her body. She saw the red hair shining in the rays of afternoon sunlight coming through the window. Like spun copper! Chris thought.
She saw the little pink tongue dart out and drill into her sodden, swollen gap. She sucked in her breath with the sensation it gave her.
Holly was a quick student, a very bright little girl. She caught on fast. She did it just right, as if she'd been sucking pussy for years instead of minutes.
If she learned to fuck as fast and as well, she was going to be a special kind of dynamite. It made Chris envy the lucky boys who would get to slip their pricks into her tight pussy.
It made her envy Jim.
"Ohhhh, Holly, you're going to make me come!" she gasped after a moment.
"Come, Miss Poston. Come in my mouth, just the way I did in yours! Oh! Oh, my little pussy's on fire!"
Chris took one hand from the back of her chair. She slid it between Holly's slim thighs, squeezing the flesh, feeling her hips jerk up and down as she moaned in approval and searched with her flaming young pussy.
Chris touched the puffy cunt. The nearly bald mound felt strange to her. She was used to the feel of her own lush bush.
Holly's cunt was so tiny! Just like the rest of her. Dainty and petite. Puffy, fresh, warm . . .
Chris found the little nub of the girl's clit. Holly squealed into her cunt and licked and sucked with increased fervor. Her small hips pumped up and down, and her virginal gap flowed with aromatic oils.
"Nnn! Nnn!" Holly cried wordlessly.
"Yes, Holly, now! Oh, now! Whenever you're ready! Ohhhh, nowwww!"
Chris's body wrenched with a hard spasm. Jolting shudders thudded through her as she came. She heard the little girl moan again and felt her vaginal mouth spasm with the pulsations of orgasm. She closed her eyes and nearly fainted with pleasure.
It felt so damn good! It had been so damn long!