Under Mr. Nolan's Bed

Being bad was a slippery slope. I found myself slipping, and I couldn't seem to stop it. I sat between my parents at mass on Sunday and tried not to listen. Instead I counted the word "sin." Forty-seven sins. Father Michael said the word "sin" forty-seven times, and the one time he was practically yelling from the altar: "How tender is our flesh! How hard our hearts! How much more aware are we of suffering than of sin!" and it made my heart leap to my throat.

But there I was, skipping school again on a Friday, sitting in Erica's room, listening to music and drinking one of the beers that Bobby had brought with him while I watched them slow dance. I was feeling just how tender my flesh really was, how vulnerable and aching. Just seeing their bodies touching, swaying together, made me long for something that I knew was a sin.

And I just couldn't deny it anymore. It was all I thought about, no matter what I was doing—standing in the shower, sitting in class, eating dinner—I couldn't stop thinking about seeing Mr. Nolan lying on his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock.

But it wasn't just watching him that night that had me spinning, it was also the way he smiled at me the next day, the way he reached out and touched the corner of my mouth with the napkin when he shared his bagel, the dark look in his eyes when they fell between my legs that morning. Watching Erica and Bobby, the way they nuzzled each other and kissed, I had a startling revelation, and I knew then that I was really in trouble—I was falling for my best friend's dad.

I finished the last of my beer, seeing Bobby's hand slip under Erica's shirt, and stood, hanging onto the edge of the night table when the room tilted sideways and my head started buzzing. I'd only had two other beers in my whole life, and this afternoon, watching Erica and Bobby together, I'd had four.

"I'm gonna leave you two alone," I murmured, seeing their tongues twining together, Erica's leg wrapping around Bobby's calf as he moved his hand under her shirt, the other edging her skirt up so high I could see her panties as he squeezed the flesh of her ass in his hand. "Let you guys have the bed."

They broke off kissing and Erica looked at me. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." I inched past them toward the door.

"You don't have to." Bobby's his eyes swept toward the hem of my skirt. "Why don't you stay... and play?"

My eyes met Erica's and I knew she'd told him about us, I just knew it from the way she bit her lip and looked away so fast. My face burned, my chest tightened, and I shook my head.

"Three's a crowd," I insisted, opening her door and not looking back at them as I shut it behind me.

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 cockhead 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 whispered, pulling 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 ok..."

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 ok," I said, wanting 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 asked, meeting 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."

My jaw tight, my anger making me bold, I leaned back on the bed and opened my legs, showing him what he had only seen a glimpse of that morning in the kitchen. "Do I still look like a little girl to you?"

He stared, his face going first white and then red. "Leah... no..."

Sitting next to me on the bed, he pulled me to sitting and took my hand. It was the same hand that had been pressed against my pussy just minutes ago. "There's a lot more to sex than this... it's really complicated... and I'm sorry that you found these, that you were exposed to this... that's my fault..."

I rolled my eyes at the lecture, at him trying so hard, and I slid my hand out of his to squeeze his thigh. I wanted to bridge the gap between us that he seemed intent on keeping. "I saw you, Mr. Nolan."

His jaw dropped and he looked at me, incredulous. "Saw... me?"

"The night you came into the bathroom... do you remember that?"

Glancing at him, I saw him nod, his face pale again.

"I watched you," I admitted, my voice almost a whisper. "Touching yourself."

"Oh Christ," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"I can't stop thinking about it," I confessed. "Seeing you stroke yourself while you watched that man on the screen... fuck those two girls..."

His eyes met mine, and I could see the shock in them at my language, but there was something else, too, that wasn't just shock. I'd seen it before, in the kitchen when he'd looked up my skirt, and a moment ago, too, when he'd walked in and caught me masturbating.

"I can't stop thinking about you," I whispered, moving my hand up his thigh, high enough to feel that he was hard. I was encouraged by that, and the alcohol made me feel more free, like I'd drunk some liquid courage.

"Leah... I know this kind of thing can be confusing..." He took my hand and put it in my lap with a shaky sigh.

"I'm not confused," I insisted, sliding down to the floor and kneeling between his legs. He was shaking his head, but I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his crotch and nuzzling there.

"Oh hell," he whispered, and I felt his hand moving in my hair, the lightest of touches.

"Please..." I murmured, turning my face, so my mouth was moving over the hard length of him against his trousers. "I want to..."

I had him unzipped quickly, and I reached in to find him, looking up into his eyes. He was dazed, startled, even a little horrified, but there was something underneath that, and whatever it was kept him from stopping me. He didn't say no as I freed his cock and took it into my hand.

Remembering how he had touched himself, I wrapped my hand around the shaft and started moving it up and down the length. His eyes closed for a moment and he moaned when I pulled all the skin up toward the tip. He was getting lost in the pleasure and sensation as I stroked him, wrapping my other hand around it, too.

He jumped when I leaned in and kissed the tip. "Whoa, wait..."

Remembering my practice with Erica's vibrator, and not wanting him to make me stop, I slipped my mouth down onto him, taking just about half until I couldn't take any more. He tasted different than I expected, a little acrid at first, the skin soft, but the flesh hard under my tongue. He moaned, looking down as I came back up on his cock, licking around the head.

"Leah, you need to stop. We can't... where is Erica?" he asked, as if, in his shock, this had just occurred to him.

"In her bedroom... with Bobby," I replied, my hand still moving up and down on him. I was fascinated with the way the skin moved over the hardness underneath.

His eyes widened, and something flashed there—anger? I slipped my mouth down around him again, wanting to distract him, not wanting him to think about it.

"Does it feel good?" I asked as I came up on him again, running my tongue around and around like Erica had shown me.

I saw him struggling, wrestling with something inside of himself, and I wanted to win out. I knelt up between his thighs, pulling my shirt up and exposing my breasts, wiggling between his legs.

"Isn't it funny...?" I whispered. "Doing this just makes me want to touch myself."

He groaned, watching as I pulled my skirt up, rubbing my pussy as I slid back down to kiss and lick the head of his cock.

"Please," he murmured as I took him in again, halfway, making him wet with my saliva. "Oh Leah, my god..."

I had seen enough in the movies we'd watched already to know what to do. I worked my head up and down, faster and faster, never taking my eyes off his face. I could see that struggle start to dissipate as I sucked him. Something else took over and he started to thrust against me, and I knew it was all right when his hand moved into my hair and he started pressing me down even further on his cock.

I made little noises around his shaft, still rubbing myself, pressing my fingers deep inside of me. My jaw was starting to ache, but I didn't care, I kept on sucking him, hungry and eager, wanting to make him feel good.

"Yes, yes," he whispered, watching me through half-closed eyes. "Suck it, baby... god, that's so good!"

His words encouraged me and I used my other hand around the base, stroking as I sucked, making him buck and jerk under my hands. His breath was coming faster and faster, and I could feel the tension in his thighs.

"Ohhh fuck," he groaned, pressing my head down so far I nearly choked on his length, working his cockhead back into my throat. "You're gonna make me cum!"

I whimpered, looking up at him, not sucking him so much anymore as he was fucking my mouth, using my lips and tongue and the soft wetness to seek his release. The intensity of it was too much, and I shivered, my fingers plunging in and out of my pussy as I started to cum, my orgasm shaking my whole body as he grabbed my head and shoved it down against his crotch.

He made a low growling noise as I felt the first blast against the roof of my mouth. It came in waves, flooding my tongue, hot and acrid and I didn't know what to do with it, so I started to swallow, the taste burning my throat and making my eyes water as he continued to pump into my mouth. I kept his cock there, sucking gently as he shuddered against me, swallowing the last of him and pressing my whole hand over my throbbing mound, my orgasm slowly subsiding.

"Oh god," he murmured, opening his eyes and looking down at me. That look was back again and he frowned. "I'm sorry... we shouldn't..."

"Leah?" It was Erica's voice, and I heard her bedroom door open.

My eyes wide, I stood, grabbing my panties off the floor and running into the bathroom. I saw a last glimpse of Mr. Nolan's shocked, stunned face before I shut the door.

"I'm in the bathroom!" I called, hurrying to straighten my bra and blouse, tucking it into my skirt and slipping my panties back on. I flushed the toilet and ran the water fast, as if I had actually gone, and then opened the door.

She was standing in the hallway and I hissed, "Your dad's home! We need to get Bobby out of here!"

"Oh shit!" She motioned to Bobby to grab the beer. We rushed around, grabbing empties and hurrying downstairs and outside as quietly as we could.

"He's going to kill me," Erica moaned as we ran around the side of the house. "Oh my god, I'm so dead."

"I don't think so," I panted, breathless. She gave me a funny look and I shrugged.

I didn't think Mr. Nolan was going to say anything at all to her about it. In fact, I was almost positive he wouldn't.