I stood in the hallway, leaning back against the wall because I was having that dizzy, buzzing feeling in my head, still. They were whispering, and I heard the bedsprings and knew they were making out. I don’t know how long I was there, but it was a while, standing and contemplating Mr. Nolan’s bedroom door.
It wasn’t until I heard Erica moan and say, “Oooh yeah, lick it!” that I made up my mind.
I’d never been in his room all by myself. It felt like I was walking into a secret, and the anticipation in my tummy was tight and tingly. I laid down on his bed, telling myself that I was just a little drunk, dizzy still, but I turned on my belly and buried my face in his pillow, smelling his lingering scent and remembering him. There was nothing I could do but think about it-how his cock had swollen in his hand, how fast he pumped it, the words he used (“Fuck that hot little cunt!”) that made my face burn and my pussy wet.
Sliding off the bed to the floor, I reached underneath and slid out the box.
Inside there were hundreds, thousands of images, all graphic, colorful and compelling. Even just in the short time that we’d been exploring the collection under Mr. Nolan’s bed, I found myself less aroused by the photos than I did by the videos. It seemed like some sort of progression-the more I saw, the more I wanted.
I looked longingly at the television, but I didn’t want to disturb Erica and Bobby or draw too much attention to myself, so I leaned back against the bed, pulling my skirt up and settling down with one of the magazines called Private.
The first couple pictures were girls together, licking and touching each other, and I couldn’t help but remember Erica’s tongue between my legs.
Slipping my hand under my panties, I parted my lips, rubbing my finger over my clit. Erica was getting her pussy licked right now, I thought, and I wished I had a tongue, too. My hand felt good, moving back and forth in the wetness, but just one experience of feeling a mouth between my legs had made me a little unsatisfied with just my fingers. I balanced the magazine in my lap, flipping the pages and rubbing myself.
There was a girl dressed in a plaid skirt and blouse that reminded me of our uniforms who was sitting at a desk, teasing her teacher by opening her legs and showing him that she didn’t have any panties. In the next picture, he was using his pointer to smack her bottom, and seeing her bent over the desk, her legs spread, and the way he squeezed his cock in his hand like that made me gasp and rub a little faster.
It was too hard to turn the pages like this, I decided, and I stood, pulling my panties off and lying on my stomach on the bed with the magazine in front of me. I reached under my belly to find my clit, flipping pages with my other hand.
Now she had his cock in her mouth, and it was clear that he was ordering her to suck it. There was a whole series of those, showing her tongue rolling around the tip and his cock pressed deep into her mouth with his hand grabbing her head and a close-up of the cock head against her pink, outstretched tongue.
My fingers made wet noises as I rubbed myself, teasing my clit as I turned the pages. In the next picture, she was lying on his big desk with her legs pulled back as he licked her and I whimpered, aching to feel a tongue. Erica’s mouth had felt so good between my legs and I closed my eyes for a moment, resting my cheek on the bed as I remembered, arching my back and raising my bottom in the air. I slipped my fingers into my pussy, using my thumb to tease my clit and rocked against my hand.
The memory of Erica licking me changed into the fantasy of Mr. Nolan between my legs. What would it feel like to have his tongue there? I wondered.
What about his cock? I moaned, feeling flushed and hot as I squirmed on the bed, my nipples hard underneath me, and I wanted to touch them. I rolled over onto my back, pulling my shirt up and my bra down, exposing my breasts.
I imagined his mouth sucking my nipples as I tugged on them, lost in the fantasy of him kneeling between my legs and licking my breasts and he stroked his hard cock against my pussy. I fingered myself faster, slipping two in, and working hard to get yet another finger into my flesh. Would a cock stretch me open like that? Would he fuck me hard and fast and long, and groan and grunt on top of me like the guys in the movies?
I moaned, trying to be quiet, picturing him between my legs, telling me how much he wanted me, how desperate he was to fuck me. Would I let him? My heart was racing, my breath coming in short gasps as I fingered myself, and I knew I would, I knew I wanted him to.
“Yes,” I whispered, arching my back and pressing toward the imaginary man between my thighs. “Oh yes, fuck me, Mr. Nolan. Put that big, hard cock in my wet little cunt!” Just whispering the words, hearing them out loud, was beyond exciting. I whimpered and squirmed and fucked myself faster. I wanted it, I wanted him, and I was lost in the sensation.
“Leah?”
I gasped, my eyes flying open to see Mr. Nolan standing in the doorway.
He shut the door behind him, his face a mask of shock and something else I didn’t quite recognize.
“Oh my god!” I pulled my wet hand away and snapping my legs closed as I pulled my blouse down to cover my exposed breasts. The thought of what he’d seen wasn’t nearly as shameful to me as the thought that he might have heard me fantasizing about him, calling his name! My heart was pounding and I could feel my face burning as I sat on the edge of the bed. “Mr. Nolan, I…” What? What could I possibly say? He had caught me masturbating on his bed-what kind of apologies could I make? I just wanted to run and hide. He was still carrying his briefcase and he set it down and walked toward me, his eyes sweeping over the box pulled out from under the bed, the magazine on the bedspread, and back to me.
“I—” he started, looking almost as shocked as I felt, like he didn’t know what to say either. “I came home early to—” He didn’t finish his sentence and I noticed he was staring at my hand, still wet with my juices. His eyes fell to the floor, and he stepped back, realizing that he was standing on my discarded pair of panties.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, looking down at my hands and wiping them on my skirt. “I shouldn’t… I was…”
He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Listen… it’s okay…”
I glanced up at him and saw him struggling, his face working, the words trying to come out. “These are… these are adult things that you’re looking at.
These kinds of images… they’re not for young people. Sex isn’t about this… well… these, what you’re looking at, these are just about sex. This isn’t what love is about… Oh, hell. What a mess.” He closed his eyes and put a hand over them, shaking his head.
“It’s okay.” I wanted to make him feel better somehow. My own embarrassment was starting to fade as I sensed his. “I know… I just… I’d never seen anything like these before…”
Looking down at me, he nodded. “I imagine you haven’t.”
“They made me feel… funny…” I explained, blushing. “Down there…. and I couldn’t help touching myself.”
“It’s normal,” he said, and I saw him swallow. “Those feelings are all normal. These pictures… all they’re meant to do is to arouse you. To make you feel… funny… like that.”
“Is that what you do with them?” I met his eyes, feeling bolder as I remembered how he had touched himself.
“Like I said…” He cleared his throat, grabbing the magazine off the bed and tossing it into the box. Closing the lid, he kicked it back under the bed.
“These are… adult things…”
My fear and shame faded almost immediately at his words. “I’m an adult.” He smiled, shaking his head. “You think you are.”