Chapter 5
Myra Castlebar had found sleep difficult to achieve this Saturday night, even though she had taken as cold a shower as she could stand after returning from Jennifer Addams' apartment. As a matter-of-fact, she had first gotten into bed and tried to sleep only to find it impossible. That was when she had got up, impatiently removed her pajamas, taken the shower and, still shivering after she had toweled herself, put her pajamas back on, wound the covers up over her head and closed her eyes tightly as if to blot out all that she had seen. Yet her sleep was troubled, and unconsciously her soft hand wandered down along her thighs till it came to rest on the plump mound of her virgin cunthole, where even in the depths of her eventual slumber her fingers began to move about and evoke a tingling sensual awareness.
She woke about four in the morning, to find herself exhausted and, most shameful of all, the crotch of her pajama trousers moist. Blushing with horrified mortification to discover that she had reverted to a girlhood practice which she knew was absolutely indecent and disgusting, she forced herself back into sleep by reviewing in her mind the subject she was going to teach her select group of fourteen-year-old girls.
When she woke, it was nearly noon, and after she had showered again and dressed, she went to the refectory for a combination breakfast and lunch. Most of the pupils and the instructors had already eaten, but she perceived at the other end of the spacious dining room a tall, wiry, prematurely gray-haired man who was finishing a cup of coffee and enjoying a cigarette. He wore a blue polo shirt and thin slacks and sandals, and he put down his coffee cup as soon as he observed her coming towards the table with her generously laden tray. For Myra Castlebar had discovered that she was ravenously hungry, although the realization that she could be so after what she had seen last night made her more uneasy than ever. She was beginning to wonder if she had not made a mistake in accepting this post, knowing so little about the school as she did and still less about the woman everybody called Madame Helga.
"Well now, you must be the new teacher Madame Helga just hired," the man called to her. "Come over here and let me introduce myself."
Myra hesitated, then took a deep breath and slowly approached the table. But she began to blush the moment she saw his intense dark brown eyes fix on her, for the look in them and the intentness of that look conveyed a decidedly lustful admiration of her personable charms.
"Don't be frightened, I won't bite," he chuckled, patting the seat beside him as he drew out the chair with his other hand. "I'm Homer Grange. I teach the oldest boys here, you know."
"No, I ... I didn't. I ... I'm Myra Castlebar," the black-haired young instructress faltered as she seated herself and began hastily to remove her repast from the tray and shove it to the other end of the table.
"Myra. That's a very lovely name and it certainly suits you. Let's see, now, you'll probably be taking the youngest girls, the newcomers usually get saddled with them. Not that they can't be fun, mind you. Have you ever taught before?"
"Yes, and I've done some tutoring," Myra confessed as she tried to avoid his intent look and began on a piece of honeydew melon.
"Well, this is a unique school, you may depend on it, Myra ... I say, you don't mind if I call you by your first name? There are not too many of us, and it makes for a happy little family relationship to use first names around here. But of course you'll find that out for yourself," he went on garrulously.
"I ... I suppose it's all right," she murmured doubtfully. "Are most of the students already in residence here?"
"Bless you, yes. Most of them stay the year round. You see, Myra, I don't know how much Madame Helga has told you, but Danielson House is a kind of refuge for the unwanted offspring of the rich and the bored and the swingers, if you'll pardon the expression."
"Oh?" she looked up, startled.
"Of course. I'd say that everyone registered here was sent off by a relative or a parent who was breaking up a household or who didn't want the kids around so they could be free to live their own lives. They pay a stiff tuition, don't think they don't. But that way, the kids don't get into their hair. And it's not as if this were a prison or a cloister ... far from it." He chuckled, shifted his chair a little closer to her, and regarded her with an even more appraising look than ever.
"How dreadful it must be, how lonely they are ... they don't go back to their homes over the holidays, then?"
"Some of them, yes. But you mustn't feel sorry for them. As I said, they're all the offspring of the rich. Most of them will come into money when they come of age, and their lives will be nicely ordered for them. When they get out of here, they'll have had more idea of the sort of fun young people can have in the world than most of their counterparts on the outside. It's really shocking how few teenagers really have a good foundation in sexual education, you know."
The subject was hardly calculated to make Myra feel more at her ease, and she blushed and mumbled something unintelligible as she fell to her bacon and eggs and buttered whole-wheat toast.
Homer Grange crushed out his cigarette, yawned and then rose. "Well, I've got a training session in about an hour, so I might as well get ready. Probably see you around in here and then we could have another nice little chat. By the way, I'm in room 42D, in case you want to visit at night." He bent down to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Of course, I'm not one to push myself where I'm not wanted. I suppose you do have a boyfriend or two ... I wouldn't think much of my own species if there actually wasn't a crowd of suitors claiming you, Myra girl."
Myra was blushing furiously and praying that Homer Grange would take himself elsewhere. She flinched under his touch, and stammered something about it being a very nice compliment and yes, she did have someone in whom she was interested. She was complimenting herself on having thought of a ruse which would compel Homer Grange to turn his attentions elsewhere, when she was further astounded by his sly parting shot: "Well, Madame Helga doesn't like any of the instructors, male or female, to have their sweethearts or lovers visit the school. So she does encourage, shall we say, a very warm friendship between the members of her teaching staff. What I mean is, if you feel the urge and want to visit me some night for a little fun, I should certainly do my very best to make you happy."
Her fork dropped with a clatter to her plate as Homer Grange chuckled to see the effect of this quip, and then strolled out of the refectory.
"Well, I never in all my life..." she gasped to herself, glancing feverishly around to make certain that he had left the dining room. Then, shaking her head, she finished her breakfast and went back to her room.
Homer Grange knocked on the door of Dr. Penelope Fielding's office and was admitted by the Lesbian medico herself, wearing a white linen smock and black leather knee-length boots with spike heels. "Are we all ready for the little experiment, Penny?" he chuckled.
Her aloof, exquisite face tautened with annoyance. "Quite ready," she briskly snapped. "Ralph and Amy are waiting in my office now."
"Very good. I'm anxious to get started myself. Er ... I assume you took care of Amy so there wouldn't be any problems there?"
"Naturally. It was done Friday morning, for your information, Mr. Grange."
"Oh, come on now, Penny baby, don't be standoffish with me." He winked and tried to put his arm around her waist. "You're looking somewhat peaked these days. Why don't you let me prescribe a very salutary night this next week?"
Dr. Penelope Fielding moved away, shoving his arm down with an angry gesture. "I don't care to have you call me Penny, Mr. Grange. You know perfectly well I don't like you. You're on the staff because Madame Helga approves of your methods, but that isn't to say that I share her views ... especially about your amorous proclivities. After all, aren't your satyr-like desires satisfied by Susan and Dorothea? I know they've gone to bed with you."
"Yes, they have," Homer Grange cheerfully admitted, "but if you want to know something in strict confidence, every time I make love to Susan, I think of you, Penny. Probably because both of you have auburn hair, which really works me up. And besides, in my personal opinion you've got an even nicer figure than Susan. Why don't you let me explain what I mean in detail, hm?"
"If you want to get your face slapped, Mr. Grange, just keep it up. Ralph and Amy are waiting in the examining room, I'll send them out to you. And one thing more. Amy is a very sweet girl, and although I know it has been arranged for her to be initiated I trust you'll keep that stupid boy from going at her like a bull."
"Never fear. The testing room has already been furnished for some very esoteric sex. I don't believe in crudity ... as I'll be happy to prove to you any night you say."
"Please drop the subject!" Penelope Fielding's voice was almost shrill and her lips curled with disdain and repugnance. "All I ask is that you send Amy back to me after your little experiment is over. The poor darling will need some consolation."
Homer Grange shook his head as he lit a cigarette. "What a waste! I'm sure that she'll find pleasures she hasn't even dreamed about once she's in the testing room. As for yourself. Penny, I'd be willing to bet a month's pay that if you spent just an hour with me in there, you'd get over your ice-princess act towards me."
"That's just like all men," the doctor contemptuously sneered. "All of you seem to think that all you have to do is take a woman to bed with you and you'll convert her overnight to wanting what you have between your legs. Well, that doesn't apply to me, and I'm not ashamed to tell you. After all I was once married, and I didn't much care for it. And now, so that we can end this unpleasant conversation, I'll send your subjects out to you. Remember, I want Amy back in this office the moment it's over."
With this, she turned her back on Homer Grange and went back into the examining room. With a sigh, she beckoned to a tall, sensitive-featured ash-blonde girl of seventeen and a gangling, curly brown-haired boy a year older. "It's time, Amy and Ralph. Mr. Grange will take you to the testing room."
Amy Lorton blushed vividly and hung her head, while Ralph Jenson reached for her hand and squeezed it, whispering hoarsely, "Don't be scared, Amy honey, it's going to be great. I'm crazy about you, I won't hurt you, you know I won't."
"That's enough talk, come along, you two," Homer Grange smilingly directed. He watched Amy move quickly ahead of the boy, and his eyes detailed the lithe, springy jounce of her bottom. like all the girls in the school, she wore the customary white blouse and black skirt, and the fine sheer hose elegantly sheathing her high-set, sinuous and very sleekly turned calves.
Unlocking the door of the testing room, he entered and the young couple followed, a little hesitantly. Ralph coughed and cleared his throat, looked nervously at Amy and then flushed. But his eyes widened when he saw the interior of the room. It was soundproofed and along the floor were laid thick rubber sheets, like a kind of carpeting. In the middle of this room, which was about the size of the ordinary living room, there was a long, low, backless and quite wide, black leather padded couch. A little table was near it, and on it stood a copper urn containing mineral oil. These were indeed the only furnishings-save that the ceiling was mirrored so the performers might look up and see themselves reflected in all their fornicatory antics.
It may be remarked here that a number of the wealthy patrons of Madame Helga's establishment wished their male or female teenaged wards or kin to have specific sexual experience, and so indicated as much to the Amazonian directress. In the case of Ralph, his parents were dead and a profligate uncle had inherited their lucrative importing business in New York City. Ralph himself had been brought up as an intellectual, with few friends and certainly no female acquaintances. His uncle, on the other hand, a robust and extremely pussy-conscious man in his early fifties, had no desire to have a young prig as his nephew, and so had written Madame Helga to have the boy initiated into the joys of fucking so he could accompany his uncle when they toured Europe and visited some of the most famous whorehouses in Amsterdam and along the Reeperbahn in Hamburg.
As for Amy, she too was an orphan except for a lecherous uncle who intended to make her his mistress and who rightly figured that if her virginity were already scientifically taken and she were taught the rudiments of fucking and discovered the pleasure thereform, she would lend herself far more readily to his intended attacks upon her exquisite maidenly virtue than if she had remained ignorant of the ways between a man and a maid.
Amy had first been introduced to sex through the good graces of Dr. Penelope Fielding herself, who had taken the charming ash-blonde teenager into her bed only a week ago, when it was decided to begin her "training," so she would be a consummate bed-bitch by the time of the Christmas holidays, when her uncle intended to take her to New York and stay at one of the swankiest hotels and enjoy her body as part of his Yuletide fare. It was Dr. Penelope Fielding also who had performed the painless minor operation of removing her hymen with a scalpel so that when she had her first fucking-which was now imminent-there would be no pain and only bliss when she would feel for the first time in her life the thrust of a vigorous male cock, which of course was to be Ralph's.
"Now then, both of you, strip down raw," Homer Grange instructed. "Ralph, see that urn on the table there? It's full of oil. Go over there, pour some into your hands and work it all over your body, and I mean everywhere-your cock, your bottom, your belly, your arms and legs-everywhere, understand?"
"Y-yes s-sir," the gangling youth stammered, growing red in the face, as he eyed his intended fucking partner.
Amy, very self-conscious, turned her back on Homer Grange and began to unbutton her blouse, while he lit a cigarette and watched with a mocking little smile. Personally, he would have enjoyed being the initiator himself, but Madame Helga had decreed otherwise. Of course, once a girl like Amy had been broken in and got a taste for it, there would be no problem in getting her to come to his apartment on future nights. The thought cheered him as she slowly slipped her blouse off, reached behind to unfasten the hooks and eyes of her bra and let it fall to the floor. The smooth, pale, pink-sheened texture of her naked flesh made his prick stiffen against the fly of his thin linen slacks, and it was tantalizing for him to wait until the sweet little bitch turned around so he could see everything she had. She didn't look exceptionally big in the boob department, but then, he was more of an ass and leg man anyway.
Meanwhile, Ralph had obediently taken off everything including his socks, and had filled his palms with the slippery oil and was splashing it over his belly and hips, rubbing it in vigorously, also somewhat modestly turning away from Amy so she wouldn't see that he already had a hard-on. It was commendably sized, and it began to jiggle obscenely as the youth shifted from foot to foot and then stopped to rub the oil along his sinewy, lightly-haired thighs.
Now Amy was unfastening her skirt and letting it fall around her slim ankles, and Homer Grange sucked in his breath and felt his prick ache with longing. AH she had on was the briefest pair of white nylon panties, which left bare the base of her lovely ass-cheeks. These were oval-shaped and closely spaced, with a deep and very narrow shadowy groove parting them. In order to bugger her, a man would have to yawn those juicy ovals apart to expose the dainty fissure of the brownie. And Homer Grange could imagine just how tight that backdoor entrance of hers was, just from the contouring and tightening of those velvety, smooth pink hillocks.
The black hose set into even more concupiscent relief the radiant pink satin of her naked flesh, lustfully accentuating it. Amy's legs were delightfully long, her thighs rather slender but broadening as they reached her ass. They were smoothly muscled too, denoting litheness and verve, for all her shyness.
Yes, he envied the lucky bastard. Ralph was going to be the first to put his stiff ramrod deep into that luscious, tight, young cunthole, and for a moment he was sorely tempted to wave Madame Helga's orders and substitute himself-but that very well could be calamitous, since Amy was to be summoned immediately after Dr. Penelope Fielding had interviewed her, to go to the apartment of Madame Helga herself to report on her experience. It would hardly do, therefore, for him to gain a momentary pleasure at the risk of losing a sinecure like this. Besides, he comforted himself, he could always call Christine Bernard, the delicious brown-haired bespectacled petite and plump seventeen-year-old from Susan Amory's class who had already been initiated by him several months earlier at Madame Helga's order. Christine would certainly oblige easing his tensions tonight, tensions that were already building monumentally at the very sight of Amy now beginning to wriggle out of the brief panties, stooping so her delicious oval-cheeked ass thrust provocatively out towards him.
Her back was delicately hollowed, beautifully sculptured, though her shoulders seemed a bit frail. Almost impatiently he waited for her to turn. Ralph by now had completed oiling himself, and stood with both hands trying desperately to hide his enormous hard-on, a ludicrous spectacle indeed. Hell, the young bastard looked as if he were scared to go ahead and fuck a dish like Amy! It was like throwing pearls before swine in Homer Grange's expert opinion, but there was unfortunately no help for it.
"Go sit on the edge of the couch, Ralph, and have a cigarette if you like. Here!" Homer Grange tossed the youth his pack of Pall Malls and then his lighter, forcing the young man to forget his projecting prick as he awkwardly caught both objects in turn and then hastily seated himself, hunching over so as once again to hide the protuberance of his readied cock. Of course, you couldn't fault the young bastard for showing some feeling towards a girl he was going to fuck for the first time, but just the same he ought to be more brash and poised, if he intended to take the lead as he was going to be taught to do. The last thing his uncle wanted was the sort of fellow who would lie back and let a girl get on top of him and do all the work, Homer Grange sardonically reflected.
"Are you ready now, Amy dear?" his tone was gentle and benign to the scarlet-faced, hugely embarrassed naked girl-or almost naked, for Amy still retained her pumps and stockings, which made her seem even more naked than had she been completely Eve-bare.
"Y-yes, Mr. Grange," the girl quavered as she slowly turned to face him, pressing one hand tightly over her virgin cunthole while a wave of fiery red blushes surged over her cheeks and forehead and even down to her slim throat.
She was really adorable that way. A somewhat exotic face, wistful in the small but not too ripe mouth, the dainty aquiline nose with widely flaring thin nostril-wings, and the intense narrowly spaced brown eyes surmounted by very thick, patricianly arching brows. She had dainty little ears which hugged the skull, but her face wasn't what interested Homer Grange at this moment. What delicious boobs the sweet young bitch had! Closely spaced, modestly shaped pears, uptilting a little and thrusting out their buds which were pert and crinkly amid small, coral-tinted aureolae. Her belly was flat and smooth with a wide shallow navel, but what he really wanted to see was her cunt and she was hiding it.
"Now I'm going to anoint you with the oil, my dear. Don't be afraid, and remember that I'm here purely impersonally to supervise and make certain that Ralph makes proper love to you," he said in a reassuring voice.
"I ... I know, Mr. Grange," the girl stammered faintly, her blushes deepening as she drooped her lovely head. Her ash-blonde hair was coiffed in a charming upsweep and curled off to the left side of her head, a very sophisticated do, and one which made her seem older than her seventeen years. Homer Grange went over to the urn, took hold of the handle with his right hand and poured a liberal portion into his cupped left palm, set the urn back down upon the table, and then moved towards the shivering, naked beauty.
"We'll start with your back, dear," he said gently, "because you do have to get used to being naked with your lover. Actually, you're very beautiful and desirable, and I'm sure that Ralph over there has a lump in his throat just thinking about you ... isn't that so, young man?"
"Y-yes, Mr. Grange," Ralph panted, blinking his eyes rapidly because tears of lust were beginning to sting them. Both of his hands were now clutching his prick to keep it out of sight as well as to hold back the impetus to spurt all his savings, because the sight of Amy in her black silk stockings and high heeled pumps was driving him up the wall.
Amy quickly turned her back as Homer Grange approached her. He began to lave her slim neck and then her shoulders, moving over the shoulder-blades and loving the fine texture of her smooth pink skin, the delicate modeling of her upper back and following the lovely indentation of the spine as it moved down towards the chinkbone to mark the demarcation of those delicious, jouncy ass-cheeks. It was all he could do to keep from squeezing and pinching them lewdly while he rubbed his prick against the tight furrow between them, but he forced himself to think of mathematics and plane geometry (which he taught among other subjects, to his male charges) in order to distract himself. Of course it didn't work, and he knew he was going to have to call Christine Bernard as soon as he finished with this fucking session.
"Don't be nervous, now dear, it's going to be beautiful, you watch and see," he soothed as he finished rubbing in the oil. Moving over to the table, he replenished the supply in his palm and this time he began on her bottom. Amy gasped and turned her face back over her shoulder, her eyes humid and wide, her blushes deeper than ever at this invasion of her maiden treasures. "You've a very beautiful body, it's something to be proud of, and I'm here to make sure Ralph appreciates it while at the same time giving you the utmost pleasure," he again tried to reassure the trembling naked girl.
He was careful not to stain the fine black silk stockings, and now it was time to anoint her front. "Now you can turn around, dear, and close your eyes if you wish. Just pretend I'm not here, or remember I'm a kind of chaperon," he chuckled.
"Y-yes ... s-sir," Amy's voice was fainter than ever as she forced herself to turn, though she still kept one hand protectively over her cunthole. Once again he filled his palm with oil and then returned to her. Beginning at her neck, he rubbed the oil gently into her tits, marveling at their springiness and the pouting way they thrust out their sweet buds. Once again it was all he could do to keep from kissing them and licking and sucking them-he made a mental note to instruct Ralph to be certain that he do just that to waken the sweet, naive bitch. On the other hand, after a spell with Penny Fielding, Amy ought to know something about what a girl's body was made for.
Now his fingers were palpitating her belly, and then he looked up and whispered, "Grasp the back of your neck, dear. I have to rub this in all over, you know."
With a sigh, Amy resolutely lifted her hands away from her cunt and put them to the back of her neck, closing her eyes and shivering. At the same time, however, she tightened her legs, but this did not hide the charming and surprisingly plump mound of her virgin pussy. The light brown curls framing the soft conch shell of her cunthole were silky and charmingly piquant, but they did not hide the pink labia, nor the dainty little nook sheltering her maiden clit. He wondered just how much Penny Fielding had taught the sweet bitch about her clit. That was something Ralph was going to have to understand if he meant to be a cocksmith in the best whorehouses of Europe.
He felt her tremble and heard her gasp as his fingertips very lightly worked in the oil over the lower abdomen and then the lips of her cunt themselves, ending along the inner thighs and then reaching round to rub his fingertips just into the edges of the mysterious furrow which separated her jouncy oval bottom cheeks. She could not help squirming about, and the undulating tremors of her hips and loins made his prick ache with savage fury. Christine Bernard was going to spend quite a good deal of time tonight in his apartment, or his name wasn't Homer Grange!
"There now, I think we're about ready, aren't we?" he rose and declared in a tone of false jocularity. "Now then, Amy dear, lie down on the couch with your legs just slightly parted and your arms held up to Ralph. You, Ralph, sit down on the edge beside her and kiss her a little bit and cuddle her. I mean her breasts, and don't go at her like a starving man who hasn't eaten a meal in a week, you understand me? I've already given you a few pointers on how to behave with a girl, haven't I?"
"Yes, you ... you have, Mr. Grange," Ralph croaked.
He scrambled up from the couch and moved away to let Amy recline upon it. Blushingly, with one hand covering her scarlet face, and this averted to one side with her eyes closed, the charming naked ash-blonde virgin slightly parted her trembling thighs, her free hand clenched into a desperate fist as if to protect herself at the ultimate moment of danger.
"You must relax, Amy dear. And you, Ralph, it's your duty to make her relax, and to let her understand there is nothing to fear and that it's going to be lovely and delicious for both of you," Homer Grange counseled.
He made a sign to Ralph, and the naked, gangling youth leaned towards the shivering Amy, his hands awkwardly moving towards her rapidly heaving naked boobs as he bent forward to kiss her mouth. With a little whimpering sigh, Amy accepted this, and this time raised both hands to cup his cheeks and hold onto him as for security.
"Very good!" Homer Grange's voice hoarsened with his own mounting, feverish rut, for he could sublimate it by watching these two virgins. And he envied them, damned if he didn't, because the first time a man or a girl experienced fucking was a moment that could never be equaled again in all of life. "Take it very slow and easy, Ralph. Kiss her and use your tongue, too, man! You know what I told you! And with your fingers gliding lightly over the erogenous zones. Make her proud of her body, not ashamed of it."
He watched vigilantly as the youth tried his best to hold back his own agonized impatience and kiss and fondle the shivering naked virgin. Ralph buried his face between Amy's panting tits, while his hands moved slowly down her sides to her hips, then moved under her bottom cheeks to hold her thus. Now his mouth was at her belly-button and Homer Grange again approved. "Excellent, my boy! All the way down now, and kiss that sweet pussy, and then use your tongue, there's nothing like that to ease a girl's fears the first time!"
Ralph obeyed, and Amy moaned and let her head fall back now, clutching her own swelling boobs, as the boy put his mouth against her cunthole and began to kiss it noisily, then thrust out his tongue and rimmed her.
"Stroke her thighs with your hands, too, and kiss the insides of them," Homer Grange thickly directed, and again was obeyed. He could see Ralph's bludgeon of a young prick, almost bursting with sap, upright between his lean, strong thighs, and he could understand what lustful torture this virgin male was suffering.
Now Ralph's hands were stroking the insides of Amy's squirming thighs, and his mouth was continuing to pay homage to her virgin pussy. "Up a little now, boy," Homer Grange instructed. "See that little button just above the lips? That's the clitoris, the most sensitive place of all a girl has. Wake her up that way and you'll have yourself a sweetheart for life, Ralph boy!"
"Oohhh ... mmmmm ... oohhh, oh, Ralph, it tickles so ... oohhh ... oh, what are you doing to me?" Amy suddenly squealed as her knees went up in the air and spread wide apart; then she half-sat up in her exquisite torment.
"That's the way! Now then, both of you, down on the rubber sheets. You'll find it more exciting to do it right there on the floor. And the feel of the rubber against your bare skin will excite you both," Homer Grange panted. By now his own hand was pressing his feverishly aching prick back into its moorings, because his own urge to expend his bubbling sperm required every iota of his self-control.
Ralph stumbled to his feet, reached for Amy's hand and lifted her from the couch. Then he hugged her, his hands splaying over the cheeks of her tensing naked ass, as his mouth crushed hers in a fiery kiss. "I have to fuck you now, I just have to, Amy honey. Please let me," he groaned.
"That's a hell of a way to talk to a virgin, you stupid boor," Homer Grange growled. "You're going to frighten her, showing the animal in you like that. Oh well, the harm is done already. Get her down there on the floor, but kiss that pussy of hers again and fondle her breasts a little more before you get into her. I'll supervise the two of you!"
Amy was trembling and still blushing; but this time, with less fear, she seemed to accede to her young, awkward novice-lover's petitioning. She let herself be drawn down to the rubber-sheeted floor and lay down on her back, while he crouched on all fours beside her, his hands feverishly cuddling her heaving tits while his lips paraded over them. Moving downwards, he again began to kiss her cunt, not forgetting the cowl where her dainty love-button was hidden.
Squeals and gasps announced that Amy was being wakened to the moment of her unvirgining, and then suddenly Ralph forgot his manners and, pushing the thighs rudely apart, flung himself upon her.
"No, damn it all, I told you not like that." Homer Grange angrily scolded. "Don't force yourself in, it'll chafe her. You're supposed to put it in gently, and get her acquainted with it by putting her hand on it and letting her see what's going into her. Oh well, now you've gone ahead and done it, I guess there's nothing more I can say. Just don't go off too fast, give the poor girl some pleasure at least!"
He went down on his knees beside the coupling pair, and stared hungrily at their cohesion. He could see that Ralph had already inserted half of his stiff cock between the twitching pink lips of Amy's dainty virgin slit, and that she had already locked her arms around him and put her stockinged calves over his shuddering thighs.
Their lips were meeting and her face was rapt and tense, concentrating on what was happening to her.
Then Ralph completely forgot about Homer Grange's presence. He began to fuck Amy with deep and rapid in-and-out thrusts, and the girl vibrated and writhed under him, moaning and kissing him hard, finally clenching her thighs over his bottom and digging her fingernails into his back as they both expired in paroxysm.
"Well, that'll have to do. All right, Ralph, you can go back to your room. Amy, you may dress and then go back to Dr. Fielding. I'll bid you both goodday. And I'll have something to say to you tomorrow, Ralph boy, because you just barely got a passing grade," he dismissed the teenagers.