A Lesson Part 5

Carrie’s hips started rutting against the bench, her perfect little rosy arse cheeks jiggling as her control over her body ebbed and flow. I was intimately in tune with her now, I could sense that she was close. I inhaled the salty, pungent aroma of her arousal like a drug, feeding off the energy it was giving me. My fingers and tongue were synchronising to Carrie’s jerking hip movements, ensuring that I did not miss a single beat. Neither of us could escape this beautifully intense moment. We were just along for the ride. And oh, how she rode.

I lived quite a sheltered life and I was, surprisingly, painfully shy as a girl. I developed a woman’s body far earlier than I developed a woman’s desires. My body was always noticed. Boys would tease me because my breasts would swell against my too tight shirts, straining at the buttons that were almost failing to contain my budding teenage body. I would try to laugh it off but found myself confused by my feelings, hormonally responsive, enjoying the attention and possibly, the humiliation, just a little too much. Damp stains in my knickers should have been a sign, but I simply did not understand what was happening.

Jonelle had been my best friend since we were thirteen. Once a month we would have a sleepover and alternate the houses. Everything else stayed the same. We would eat pizza, dress up and play with makeup and then we would listen to music and dance. We shared secrets and dreams and, as we were both only children, we thought of each other as sisters. At least that is what I had thought.

We had turned sixteen that year. It was an unusually hot summer, and Jonelle had invited me over to her house for our sleepover on a Saturday. Her parents said they wanted to go down to the local pub for a pint and left us the money to pay for the pizza delivery. We decided to eat our pizza at the picnic table in the garden. Jonelle managed to drop a slice all down the front of her shirt. She ran over to the hose and started washing the front of her shirt and then, for no apparent reason, she turned the hose on me.

Laughing wildly, she soaked me to the skin until I managed to pin her down and wrestle control of the hose. I returned the favour, standing over her, as she laid on the ground. Every time she tried to sit up, I would playfully kick her back down. She was laughing so hard that it was easy to topple her over, but there was something else. I found the feeling of power over her, making her squeal and wiggle on the ground in front of me as I aimed the running water at her face, intoxicating. It was like a door had opened for me.

Dripping water as we ran, we got into the downstairs bathroom together. We stripped off our shirts and bras but there was only one towel. Jonelle wrapped it around my body and hugged me close, rubbing her hands against my back to dry me off. As she did so, I felt my chilled and sensitive nipples almost explode in response to rubbing against her cool, soft, skin. They sent tingling electric shocks through my body that made me feel I wanted, needed something, but I did not know what.

Jonelle must have noticed something too. Without pulling away, or saying anything, she slid one of her hands into my soaked jeans and, without hesitation, straight to my uncorrupted, velvety soft vulva. I froze. Part of me wanted to see where this strange new experience was going to lead. I had no idea what to do with these cravings I was feeling. I suspected Jonelle knew exactly what to do with them though. With our still damp bodies pressed against each other, without making a sound, just a quickness of breath, she brought me to my very first orgasm and we both crumpled into a heap of embarrassed giggles on the floor.

We continued to experiment with each other, joyfully sharing the adventure of discovering our nubile bodies for the next six months, until Jonelle got a boyfriend. This is when I realised what being bisexual was and became determined to enjoy it to the full.

Now, here I was, with a well-trained, handsome, and wealthy man, currently restrained and completely at my mercy watching me pleasure his girlfriend in ways he never will be able to. I was hosing him down metaphorically and he was loving it. It would be his turn to have his own, particular pleasure with me soon, but first I had to finish one thing.

Cassie. Continuing to rhythmically, draw my finger back and forth along the tidy, little shaft of her clitoris, I leaned away slightly and asked quietly, ‘Cassie. Do you want to cum?’

Hardly able to speak, breathlessly, she replied. “Oh my god! What are you doing to me? Yes!”

I slowed the movement of my finger and she groaned, pushing her hips towards my hand, wishing me to continue. “Cassie. Beg me. Tell me what a good girl you are. Ask me as sweetly as you can to let you cum, and then you shall have what is rightfully yours. You’ve worked hard for it.”

I teased her relentlessly, intermittently flicking her engorged bud and tonguing her hole. She shook her head as if she were making one last attempt to shake off the power, I presently held over her. I knew she would relent. I was far too skilled, and she wanted it so very much. “Please. Please let me cum. I’m such a good girl. I’m the best girl. Let me show you. I’ll do anything. Just. Please. Let. Me……………..Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”. And she gushed like a ripe peach all over my face.

(read part 6)