He said something. The glass muffled the sound of his voice. Laura laughed and reached under her thigh. His tongue wet his upper lip as his mouth opened slightly. He seemed to be satisfied; her hand turned and Ella guessed she was caressing the scrotum.
The touch appeared to spur him on. Now his whole body rocked. His arms were at his sides, his paints pressed fiat against the wooden floor. He arched his spine, and forced his stomach up against her pubis. Her cunt swallowed him up; Laura's mouth opened, and she rolled her head from side to side. The next thrust of the penis forced a shiver that Ella could trace in the curving of her spine.
Ella's interest in the scene had been so intense that she had held her breath, waiting anxiously for each new movement. The initial wave of shock at seeing Laura Marshall there had gone -- although who could it be, of the girls in her class, if not Laura? And she had not really been surprised at all to see Claude, naked, pumping his cock into a girl-child's vagina.
She had been lost in watching the two of them. Only when her heart skipped a beat, forcing her to breathe in deeply, was she brought back to her situation. She was a teacher -- a young woman, surely, but a teacher as well, with a teacher's responsibilities. Though she could not feel outrage, she could feel embarrassment. Since she had not burst into the shack, demanding that the business be stopped, she could hardly be right in standing at the window, unobserved and observing, her breath forcing a fog onto the glass.
Her muscles tightened with resolution, and she programmed herself to walk toward her car. In the instant that she hesitated, he saw her.
She had no time to think, but she knew instinctively that to walk on by, having once caught his glance, would be cowardice. She stared at the boy, insistent that he be the first to look away.
He was. Yet there was something in the glance, while it lasted, and in the way he ended it, that confirmed everything she either expected or had guessed about Claude. When he turned his eyes away, it was as if he had lost interest in her stare. While their eyes had met, the attitude was one of cheerful defiance.
Once again he was absorbed in the teenager's body. His hands moved with a strange immature grace over Laura's bosom. His cock, as it moved in and out of her, directed the coitus, and Laura merely followed, delighted with, the pleasure he gave her. Her eyes closed, and she was lost as her body rocked with rhythm that possessed her; clearly she did not possess it. Her breasts bounced heavily against her chest, and her fingers grasped at air before Claude seized them at the wrists and held them as she squirmed and forced her cunt down on his penis. His eyes were wide open, and he was watching her move above him, her body out of control. He moved his small, wiry frame up and down in a whir of force, but he was using it as a machine. He could have cum or not cum since Laura was ready, he let himself thrust his cock home inside of her, and only in the last moments of the frantic joining did his eyes close. He bit at his lower lip as he jabbed her with the prick, and his jaw dropped lazily as his body slowed down, and the girl finally settled, his swollen dick inside her. She leaned forward and covered his breasts with her chest. She smoothed his hair with her hands tenderly, but he merely stretched the fingers of his own hands at his sides while he opened his mouth under hers, and their tongues slid back and forth.
Ella Randall's heartbeat frightened her as she walked to the car. Her emotions grew more complicated at each stage. Now she was undecided if she were smarting from the discovery or -- or else, she realized, she was unbearably excited by the sight of him fucking that girl.
"You do need some help with your math, Claude."
"Thank you, ma'am."
She had to admire him. He knew how to make it easy on a woman when she needed to have it made easy. She had fought, instinct against instinct for a full week, finally succumbing to temptation. And he, who could have ruined everything with a smirk or a half-suppressed giggle, was playing it so straight that she found herself doubting if their eyes really had met that afternoon at the woodshed.
The bell that signaled the beginning of lunch rang, drowning for a moment the sounds of children already on the school's grounds.
"It will be all right, won't it? Your mother isn't expecting you home after school?"
"No, ma'am."
"If she is, I can call her and tell her you're coming home with me."
"It's really all right. I usually study at the library in the afternoons." It was true; it was the only was he could avoid Elaine.
"Then just come back here after you get your books and things from your locker."
"Yes." He had begun to shuffle his feet, and Ella rose, smiling, letting him know he could leave. As he turned, he raised his hand in an ambiguous wave -- somehow familiar, as if there were no need for the camouflage that had preceded it.
She waited for him in the bungalow, watching the children leave through the west gate. She tried to lose herself in watching them, for she was vaguely afraid she would "chicken out" if she let herself think about Claude. Her worst fear was without foundation, but all the worse for that; she worried that he would not find her attractive.
He was silent in the car, but he turned the radio's dial aggressively, as if there were something specific he wanted to hear. He settled on one station, on one song, and he leaned back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his lips as he lost himself in the beat and the inane lyrics.
The first thing she asked him, when they had come into the apartment, was whether he wanted anything to eat or drink. He replied with a polite "no, thank you," but her more specific offers -- milk and nutcake -- were met affirmatively.
She had cut herself a thin slice of the cake, but she was too excited to be at all hungry. Her forefinger pushed a few moist crumbs toward the rim of the small plate. She was conscious the moment that she sat down next to Claude on the couch that she was too close, without reason, but she was reassured when she sensed no reaction at all, no tightening or stiffening of his body. He was daring her to come closer, teasing her with his passivity.
He finished his cake in minutes. His tongue wiped his upper and lower lip in a single movement. "That was terrific," he said, childishly appreciative.
"You're very welcome. Claude." She waited a moment, then let the opportunity pass. She reached forward and took his math text from the coffee table. She opened it to the current unit, then placed the book in his lap. Her forefinger underlined a model problem. "Do you have any trouble with that one?"
He looked into her face. His head had been resting against the back cushion, and he had to stare up at her. There was nothing in his facial expression; it was pure curiosity. But the unspoken question related not at all to arithmetic. His lips moved apart, and she watched the tongue hidden just behind his even lower teeth. His whole mouth was poised, waiting.
Without effort she felt her face cover his. She pushed forward into his mouth and wrapped her larger tongue around his.
His tongue slid against the roof of her mouth, and she delighted in the raw pressure of his teeth biting into her lips, wet with his saliva.
His hand was impatient. It opened around her breast, and the center of the palm pressed in against the bra cup. Her tit grew harder at the friction of the white lace against the aureole and she thrust her chest out, wanting him to stroke her. His finger pushed against the breast's tip, and she turned her head away from him, then brought herself back. She pushed at the tousled hair that half covered his ear. Her tongue circled in on the organ, moving inside the spiral and then out again. She covered her front teeth with her lips as she sucked on his ear lobe. She tongued the back of his ear, and he breathed with seeming difficulty, excited by her, forced two steps beyond detachment. She stroked the side of his neck with her fingertips. She was conscious that she was older and more experienced -- more conscious than she had expected she would be. The impulse to prove her supremacy motivated her now. Her restraint emphasized her age; dimly, she was aware that she wanted to assert the fact that the seduction was her idea, the lovemaking her gift to him.