"Well then, next time you better make sure the door is completely locked before you start jerking off that horny little pussy out in the open."
"Oh God," she sobbed, still bright red with shame.
"You do have a fine tasting pussy. Miss Priml. You ought to let it get out more often, let it meet people."
"Oh God..,"
I went out of the library and closed the door behind me. The school bell rang, punctuating the end of this episode. I made my way to my next class, with the taste of cunt still in my mouth, in my nostrils… in the air.
Chapter Eight
I went back to my classroom and finished those damned book reports. As I've already said they had a monotonous sameness to them.
Except for one. I came upon it towards the end and I had to read it through a couple of times to make sure it was really all there. A certain Miss Sheila James, a Junior year student of mine, wrote a report on a most unusual work of fiction. It was something called A Whip in the Hand and it was about one of those perverted aristo Victorian households where the master believed in disciplining the servants in a peculiar and highly sexual manner. He particularly enjoyed stripping the parlor maids and putting them over his knee, whereupon he would spank and whip them till their pink and round asses were crisscrossed with bright blood marks.
Another of his pastimes was to dress up as a woman and when he was good and aroused from wearing this outfit, he would go to the room of his young sister and anally screw her. And all of that, apparently, took place in only the first chapter. There was much more to come.
The book, as the author of the book report told it, went on to describe certain other of the master's excesses, including coprophilia, that is, his eating of the shit of a beautiful blonde scullery maid, and assorted rapes and murders he perpetrates on the populace of his domain, on and on till an irate father of one of these abused young women sought revenge and shoved a burning poker up the master's ass, literally skewering him and dumping him in the fireplace like some sort of human shish kabob.
Sheila James described these colorful events in graphic detail in her book report, with no punches pulled, much to my surprise and entertainment. The latter part of the book report was supposed to be devoted to the student explaining what effect the book had on her, if she learned anything from it, etcetera. Miss James was quite candid in describing the erotic effect this book had on her.
I quote: "I found the book very exciting. The sexy scenes, which there were plenty of, made my pussy get very damp. Each time the author would describe how big the master's cock was and how he would put it deep inside the cunts of all these girls, well, it just got me very, very wet between the legs, wet and sticky. It got so that I had to lock the door when I read it, so that I could take my panties off and rub my pussy while I read. That was lots of fun, sticking my fingers inside my hole while I read all about the guy with the big cock and all the pink pussies he sticks it into. I started to fantasize that he was sticking it into my cunt and that got me even wetter."
Well, she went on for a couple of hundred, more words, telling me what an experience reading this book was. I was a little shaken. What was in this girl's skull to write and hand in a paper like that? Was she screwy or just horny? I didn't know which, but I knew this deserved investigation. So I wrote at the bottom of the front page, "Very interesting paper. See me in my office after class."
I went to that class with a hearty sense of anticipation. Who was this girl with the wet cunt and the vivid reaction to certain types of literature?
I started passing back the book reports to the various girls. Finally Sheila James came up for hers. Her eyes were on me as she came to the desk for her paper. She turned out to be gorgeous, small but round and fully-curved with long, straight, strawberry blonde hair. She leaned towards me, and picked up the paper with a whispered "thank you." Her voice sounded quite sultry for one of her tender years.
I began my lecture on twentieth century literature and tried to get her out of my mind for the time being. But it wasn't easy, believe me. My eyes kept drifting again and again to her bewitchingly innocent face with that sexy, girlish pout. And she was staring right back at me.
After what seemed a very long while, the final bell rang, and the students scurried out of the classroom. But Miss James came up to my desk and smiled at me.
"You wanted to see me m your office, sir? " she said.
I cleared my throat, trying to find the properly academic voice. "Yes, uh, yes, Sheila, I want to discuss your book report, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind. Where's your office?"
I told her.
"All right, sir. I'll be waiting for you." And with that she left.
I crouched down in my chair and wrestled with my conscience. What was I doing now? This would really jeopardize my career, far more than my previous shenanigans. But how could I resist such a tempting situation? Here was a gorgeous, sexy sixteen-year-old obviously taunting me to fuck her. It was just too much to pass up. If she had been a dog it would been different. But Miss Sheila James had a lush teeny body. I would have to take the risk, there were no two ways about it.
I gathered my papers together and stood up. I took a deep breath and headed out to the hall and down to my office. Sheila was sitting straight and stiff at the edge of a chair when I went in and closed the door behind me. I didn't lock it when I went in. That left me a chance to back out if I got a last-minute dose of scruples.
I sat behind my desk and smiled at her. She smiled back at me.
"Well, let's see now, Sheila, where should we begin?"
"Wherever you like, sir." "Um, yes, yes…," I muttered. I was starting to lose my nerve. I was hoping she would make the first move. "Well, the book you did your report on was a strange one, don't you think, Sheila?"
"Yeah, it sure was strange."
"Do you often read books like that?"
"Oh, sometimes," she said. "When I need to get some excitement. There's not much of that up here, you know. Excitement, that is. Until you got here."
Now we were making progress.
"What do I have to do with it one way or the other?" I asked, leaning forward in my seat.
"Well, maybe you can… excite me, so I won't need to use any stupid dirty books."
"Wouldn't that get me in a whole lot of trouble, Sheila? What if someone found out?"
"So what? It's not that important. I'm not a virgin, after all. You wouldn't be doing anything that hasn't already been done to me before."
I was a little taken aback by her brazenness. I don't know what I expected, but it did make me nervous, the way she came right out with what she wanted or expected.
She ran her tongue over her lips and looked up at me with a fire in her eyes. I circled around her. I mumbled this and that, running my eyes all over her lovely body.
"Yes, that was a very interesting book report," I said, remembering the juicier passages.
My right hand began to drift down, slowly, from her shoulder to her budding breast, and I began to massage it, slowly, with a rhythmic movement, around and around, avoiding the tip at first, saving that for later, cupping the youthfully pert globe in my fingers and pinching and kneading the firm flesh. It had a feel that was out of this world, tingling with the raw sexuality of awakening womanhood.
Now I moved my hand inside the blouse, inside the bra, and then touched the diamond-hard nipple, rolling it on the ball of my finger, back and forth, pressing it in only to let it pop out again stiffer and stronger.
"Ohhhh," the girl moaned. "That's nice…"
She shivered erotically. Her legs began to spread apart, so that her cunt could open up, so that the air could get in at it, fan that fire.
I carefully dipped my free hand down to her thighs and gently I allowed my fingers to creep up towards the warm wetness of her eager young slit.