Chapter 9
Marsha Roberts looked over the morning paper. Her mouth was open. She could not believe her eyes. April Winslow was getting married on Sunday. To Leo. She called into the kitchen.
"Did you hear? April Winslow's getting married to Leo? Can you believe it?"
Lenora strode into the dining room and sat down. "Oh. I'm sorry. Didn't I tell you about it? We got an invitation the other day in the mail."
Marsha shook her head. It was hard to believe that three years had gone by. It seemed like yesterday that she and April and May had been on intimate relations.
"Well," said Lenora. "Do you want to go?"
Marsha smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Marsha looked over to Lenora. The dark woman smiled brightly at her. "Let's get going, Marsha. We don't want to be late for work."
Marsha grabbed her bag, and the two women were off. They dashed outside and hopped into Marsha's car. The Jaguar was gone, sold long ago. Lenora and Marsha had been living together since that fateful night, barely spending a moment apart.
They were truly in love. Not that they still didn't fool around. Neither of them believed in a totally monogamous relationship. There just didn't seem to be any need.
They were both secure with each other. They both trusted each other. What did it matter if one of them saw someone they were hot for, and went after it.
Lenora started the car. It was her turn to drive, the two women took turns. They'd purchased a small house on the edge of town, mostly with Lenora's money.
Marsha looked at Lenora as the black-haired woman drove slowly down the street. Lenora had changed so much. She was such a different person. The old Lenora was just a distant memory for Marsha now. She was so happy with their new life together.
Lenora was still a hot dominating woman, especially in the bedroom. However, Lenora was now secure enough to lighten up, and not take things so seriously. She was finally able to express herself with others, especially Marsha.
They pulled into the school parking lot. Marsha had gotten Lenora a job in the history department, which had been what Lenora had studied in college.
Lenora loved teaching, even more than Marsha. It had given her life new meaning. She had found something else that she liked to do, besides track.
She was a very intelligent woman. She spoke five languages. She had always done quite well in school. But she had always before lacked passion.
Lenora always kept the passion bottled up inside her, so that when she finally would release it, it would come forth in violent spasms. Eruptions.
She kissed Marsha right before the two women got out of the car, letting her tongue slip inside the gym coach's mouth for an instant. Marsha's heart always began to pound whenever she had the slightest contact with Lenora's tongue.
Marsha had never dreamed that things would work out so well for her. Her life had been on the brink of disaster, with her home destroyed, and her career in jeopardy.
But everything had just seemed to right itself so smoothly. April and May had confessed to the authorities that they had been lying, and all charges were dropped against Marsha. People came up on the street to apologize to her.
"We could just never believe those stories," they would say. "After all, if a teacher is fooling around with her students for three years, it would've been discovered long before now!"
Marsha was reinstated, and as well loved by her students as before. But not physically. Not anymore. Marsha vowed to herself never again to get involved with a student.
Which at times, seemed to be the hardest thing in the world. Some of the girls were just so beautiful. So very, very pretty. Marsha would feel herself literally salivate at the sight of some of her more enchanting pupils.
Their breasts, their breasts were always so firm. The nipples always seemed to be erect, pointing out at Marsha underneath their tight t-shirts.
If the students were even wearing t-shirts. Marsha could not get over how each year, the girls would come to class wearing skimpier and skimpier gym outfits.
Most teachers had a dress code for their kids, but not Marsha. She loved the enticing outfits that paraded before her eyes, why should she make the girls stop? They liked to wear them, and she loved to look at them.
And Marsha was absolutely sure that some of the girls knew it. A few would stay after practice, Waiting with little or nothing on for Marsha to pop out of her office door.
Some of the girls would then let their towels fall open, exposing their fresh muffs to Marsha. They would look hungrily into Marsha's eyes, letting her know exactly what they had in mind.
Marsha wanted every time to reach out to these girls, run her hands over their succulent bosoms, down, down to their sweet young love slits.
She wanted to bury her fingers deep inside, to feel the juices begin to flow. She knew that she could teach all the girls how to get the most out of their bodies, in every, every way.
Marsha wanted to finger their clits, feel the little nub begin to grow firm, to turn a deep red, filling with blood for perhaps the very first time.
But she knew she couldn't have it. She knew that it just wasn't worth the risk to her anymore. She would tell this to herself, over and over and over.
This day was one of those times. There was a new girl in class. Her name was Amy. Amy was new in town, her father had just relocated to town.
She reminded Marsha so much of Jennifer, darling sweet Jennifer. Jennifer was in college now, the president of her sorority.
They still corresponded often. Jennifer had had many threesomes with Marsha and Lenora after everything had been settled. They had showed her everything they knew, explored her every opening just as she had explored theirs.
Jennifer wrote to Marsha that she had decided to explore the world of men while she was in school. She told Marsha that she really liked sucking on men's cocks, and having them fuck her. But she still would never give up pussy.
She had shown a lot of the other girls in her sorority how to go about it. Their house was unlike any other on campus. They did not spend all their time dreaming about dates with boys, and talk of boyfriends, they were too busy satisfying each other. It was all working out wonderfully for Jennifer, she couldn't be happier.
And Marsha felt proud, really proud. She knew that Jennifer had a lot inside her, and she felt that she had contributed greatly to drawing the young girl out, to letting Jennifer really find herself. She gave Jennifer the confidence to face the world.
The new girl Amy was so much like Jennifer had been. Her face was hidden by the enormous round glasses she wore. Her hair hung all down in her face, hiding her. Amy probably would have felt too vulnerable to wear it up.
Yet she was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful girl Marsha had ever seen. Of course none of the other kids in her grade thought so, but they were just too .young to see it. They were still caught in the world of designer labels, surface was everything to them.
Amy's body was gorgeous. She had just learned to do a wonderful job concealing the fact. Her posture was just terrible. She walked, even ran, in a permanent slump. She was always tripping all over herself, yet at times, Marsha noted almost immediately, Amy moved with incredible grace and fluidity. She did have it in her.
Amy took to this new gym teacher right away, just by the few words Marsha said at the beginning of class. It wasn't really anything
Marsha said either. It was more her soothing tone of voice which Amy responded to, and those warm eyes.
It had been so hard for her, moving to a new school in the middle of the year. She had enough of a time making friends anyway, and halfway through the school year, all the little cliques and. groups had been established, and Amy just couldn't find a way in anywhere.
And she felt so lonely, so very lonely. She could go through an entire day of school without saying a word to anyone. Many days, she often did.
She'd always hated gym class. It always made her feel so awkward and ugly. She hated looking at all the other girl's bodies, then looking at her own.
But Marsha made everything seem different. Marsha made the gym class fun. She knew that it was going to be her favorite class ever, and that she would look forward to it every day.
Amy thought about what her parents were always telling her. They continually repeated to her that she had to join organizations, that that was the best way in the world to meet people, working together and becoming friends.
Sports were like that to. Amy had never felt brave enough to ever participate in any organized sports. But now, with Marsha, she knew she could find the courage, and that she might enjoy testing her muscles and building her strength.
Amy decided she would go have a talk with Marsha after school, talk things over with her. Marsha. She couldn't think of the muscular brunette as Miss Roberts, only as Marsha. She said the name over and over to herself.
The final bell rung as Amy was staring out of the window in English class. It had finally come. She had never thought that the school day would end.
Amy felt a trembling in her knees as she got up from the seat. She felt so nervous, too nervous. Yes, it scared her, the idea of going out for a sport, even talking to Marsha by herself in the teacher's office, but not enough to make her tremble.
"It must be something else," Amy thought to herself as she entered the girl's locker room, her books under her long, thin arms.
She looked around the girl's locker room. The last girl was closing her locker and leaving for the day. Amy waited until she was gone. She felt embarrassed in front of other girls her age. She didn't want any of them to know that she was thinking of going out for a sport. She just felt too shy.
Finally, the girl was gone, and Amy raised a hand and rapped on the office door.
"Come in, it's open," Marsha's voice sounded from within.
Amy swung the door open, clinging to the handle, too afraid to release the doorknob. "I ... I wanted to talk to you, Mars ... I mean, Miss Roberts."
"It's OK," Marsha smiled. "You can call me Marsha. That's fine."
She motioned for the frightened girl to have a seat. Amy slid over to the chair, and plopped awkwardly down on one side. She fidgeted continuously.
"What can I do for you, Amy? Is anything the matter?"
"Oh no!" Amy replied, her voice trembling, speaking a bit too softly. "Everything's just fine. It's just, well, I was thinking, y'know ... "
"You'll have to tell me what it is. I can't read your mind, you know."
Amy didn't believe that. She didn't know what she wanted, but she somehow believed that Marsha would be able to help her, make everything better.
"Sports," Amy spit out. "I'm interested in sports."
"That's wonderful, Amy," Marsha replied warmly. "Do you know which ones interest you the most? There are very many, you know."
Amy shrugged her shoulders. She hadn't really thought about it at all. All that had been in her mind was meeting with Marsha, sitting alone in her office.
Marsha got up from behind her desk. The poor girl was so nervous! Marsha tried to think of what she could do or say to make the girl loosen up a bit.
"Stand up, Amy, let's see how tall you are, what kind of thing would be suited for you, since you don't seem to really know what you're looking for."
Amy rose from her seat. Marsha took the girl's slender arm. "Make a muscle, Amy, let's see how developed you are."
Marsha felt a tiny muscle form in the young girl's arm, but she wasn't concentrating on that anymore. She was looking at how Amy was developed in other ways.
She had nice, petite breasts. Not too small, by any stretch of the imagination. They suited her slender body perfectly; two mounds rising from her smooth, flat stomach. Her hips, her hips were wide, beautifully sloping down, a graceful curve.
"Your legs, Amy, flex your legs for me. Touch your toes if you can."
Amy's palms were soon flat against the floor. Marsha was a bit surprised. The girl's body seemed so very flexible. Limber, in all the right places.
"Have you ever done any gymnastics,"
Marsha said, trying hard to concentrate on the young girl's problem. "No. Not ever."
"I think you'd like it a lot. You seem like you'd just be a natural."
"Do you coach gymnastics, Marsha? I just want to do something that you'll coach!"
Marsha was shocked to hear those words. Shocked, and flattered. She could not help but smile as she told the young girl that it was indeed one of the sports that she coached.
Amy looked at Marsha's strong, muscular body. "I want to look like you, Marsha. I want to be strong and beautiful. I want to feel good about myself."
Amy could simply not contain her emotions any longer. Marsha, she loved Marsha. She reached out to touch the gym coach's firm thigh. Her stomach. Her breasts.
Amy had to touch her. She could no longer think about why she needed to see Marsha, or about which sport she was interested in. The only thing that was on her mind was that tremendous body that stood before her, that lovely gym coach's body.
Marsha felt the young girl's hand fall on her legs. She felt the other reach out and cup her delicate tit. She didn't know what to do. Yes, it felt good. Yes, she did want Amy. No, she really didn't want to risk getting involved.
Yet, what could she do? Marsha was involved, Amy was her student. What could she do? If she pushed Amy's hands away now, scolding the young girl for touching her, then Amy might be scarred for a long time. Amy was just so young, her ego so fragile.
Marsha simply did not want to hurt the girl. How could she say no to Amy's advances? What reasoning could she give her, why she would resist.
Marsha couldn't think of any. In fact, Marsha was having a hard time thinking clearly at all. Her pussy was taking over, doing her thinking for her.
She couldn't resist, she couldn't say no. It was too much, too late. She had to have more. She wanted the girl, and the girl wanted her. What on earth could be simpler, than two people following their passions.
Amy pressed close against Marsha. She didn't think anymore, she just acted. She couldn't stop. If she stopped, she knew that she would run out of the room and never be able to face Marsha again, never be able to give in to her desires again.
Amy couldn't stop. She couldn't help herself. She had never done an aggressive thing before in her entire life. She had never really gone after what she had wanted. Now, for the first time, she was going to have it. She wanted it all.
The two women kissed, their lips finally crossing each other's path. As they delicately brushed across, their hungry mouths both opened wide, covering those openings with their lips, their teeth, their tongues.
Amy had kissed someone before. Once. A boy she went out with on one date. The boy had been as nervous as she. Their tongues only met briefly for an instant, then pulled apart all toe soon to suit Amy's tastes. She was hungry for more.
Marsha was giving her all she wanted. She had always imagined that kissing would be like this. She had dreamed about feeling that other person's tongue deep in her own mouth, probing, caressing, exploring. It was so good, so right.
Marsha slid her hands down, pulling Amy's tucked-in shirt out of her pants. She then slid her hands up underneath, feeling the soft, warm skin of the young girl's tight stomach. She ran her fingers over the virgin flesh.
Amy quivered at the gym coach's warm touch. Her fingers left a burning feeling on the girl's skin wherever they touched. Everywhere they roamed, it just began to feel better and better to Amy. It was simply wonderful!
Marsha slid her hands out from the young girl's shirt, and went to work undoing the tiny black buttons that held Amy's blouse closed to the world. Marsha's fingers moved like lightning, she could not get that blouse open fast enough to suit her.
At last, the shirt fell open, exposing Amy's young breasts. They hung there, heaving with every deep breath the young girl took. Marsha put her hand on one. She touched the tender nipple, running her finger around it slowly.
Amy's nipples soon were hard, pointing out from her sloping tits, into the cool office air. Marsha had to have her mouth on one, to suck gently on the quivering tip.
Amy moaned at the sensation of the woman's wet tongue falling on her hard nipple. The nipples felt so sensitive, every little flick sent tiny shivers shooting out from them. It was just about the best thing she'd ever felt.
Soon, though, she would be feeling even better. Marsha's hands were now straining to open the girl's belt, and then her pants, and then her panties. Marsha's hands almost could not operate, so excited was she with the thought of feeling her fingers on the young girl's trembling virgin twat
Amy had to help the teacher undo the belt. She wanted Marsha to touch her here, touch her there, touch her everywhere. Nothing was off limits, as far as she was concerned. She would give Marsha any part of herself that she wanted.
With the belt and pants finally undone, Marsha slid the tight jeans down slowly over the girls wide hips, letting her fingers linger over each inch of flesh she was uncovering. Marsha was warm, Amy was hot.
But Marsha was getting hotter, hotter with every passing second. All that remained to cover Amy's dark muff was a pair of flimsy panties.
Amy felt the teacher's hand slide down, slipping under the elastic top of her pink cotton panties. The fingers were on her pubic hair now, slowly, gently stroking every quivering inch of flesh. Even the gym coach's touch up there, so far away from her cunt lips, set the young girl on a round of groans and moans.
Down, down, Amy felt those fingers go. This is what she had wanted, this is what she had needed from Marsha all along. Amy knew that now.
She knew that she needed those strong hands on her pussy, she had to have that strong touch on her clit. She wanted Marsha to stroke the little nub, stroke it now! Stroke it hard!
You see, Amy was like Jennifer in many ways, but not every way. She, unlike Jennifer, knew all about the pleasures of her clit. She had discovered masturbating with her love-nub when she was but twelve, and had taken full advantage of her discovery ever since.
Marsha's hand was there now, on the very spot she wanted. Her fingers flew lightly over Amy's swelling clit. It just felt so good to the young girl! Better than she ever hoped. Better than when she did it to herself!
Much better. It was thrilling to feel another's body pressed close, to let your hands fall all over their body, just as their's was exploring yours.
Amy was doing just that now. She too had slipped Marsha's shirt open, feeling those firm muscles everywhere, so strong, yet so tender.
Marsha kept right on working on the young girl's clit as she shuddered under the touch of Amy's hands, which were stroking her breasts and neck. Marsha rested her face against the back of Amy's hand, rubbing her cheek sensuously across.
Amy shuddered, almost losing her balance. The juices were sliding out of her pussy now. She was soaking her panties. She wanted to have them off, so she could be totally free. She wanted to rub her pussy against Marsha, feel her cunt lips bare, pressing against those iron muscles, those dynamic thighs.
Amy reached down, sliding the panties off, letting them drop to the floor, stepping out of the leg holes. She was free now, totally free. She ground that muff into Marsha's thigh, taking Marsha's diddling hand right along with her.
Marsha dropped her own pants at the same time Amy shed her panties. She too could no longer tolerate the restrictions of her clothes. She had to feel Amy's skin everywhere, letting nothing come between them. She ripped her panties off.
They were both totally naked now, standing there in the middle of Marsha's office, their clothes scattered on the floor. They were locked in an embrace, each woman pressing her wet pussy on the other ones leg, straddling thighs.
Marsha ground her clit against Amy harder with each stroke. Her hips gyrated slowly, one big circle, leaving a juicy wet trail behind. She felt her own leg growing wetter and wetter also, covered with Amy's juices.
They had been drawn together like two magnets. Now they were linked, attached, and no force could tear their two beautiful bodies apart.
Marsha's hand once more went down, zooming in on Amy's hard, red clit. With her other hand, she slid the young girl's glasses off her face. She wanted to see that beautiful little nose, those deep green eyes.
She stroked Amy's clit. Now, without the glasses, Marsha could see the effect each tiny stroke was having on the young girl's face. Amy would squeeze her eyes tight, relax for a moment, then squeeze tight again as the next stroke fell.
Amy's hand also went down, finding after a little bit of work, Marsha's own clit. She wanted to make the coach feel every bit as good as she did right now, and playing with that clit was the only means of doing it.
Marsha closed her eyes. Her moans were growing in intensity, soon overtaking the girl's in loudness and intensity. It was great. It was so nice.
They were both breathing harder now, both women gasping for air. Marsha thought about changing positions briefly, about lying down or something.
But she just couldn't stop. The pleasure was just too great. She didn't want to let up for an instant. She couldn't. And neither could Amy.
They were both going to come. Together. Teacher and student. They were going to explode in each other's arms, right there in Marsha's office.
Marsha had broken her vow. She was touching another student. And she knew that she would be kidding herself if she told herself she would never do it again.