Andrew had recently got a new job. We were driving to spend Saturday with his new boss, John, and his wife. I had not met either of them and I knew I wanted to make sure that they liked me. Their house was about 45 minutes away from ours and on the drive I found myself daydreaming about the past. About my adolescence.
Just before I left school I had a crush on a young teacher. It was her first teaching post and she was only just older than me, though she actually only taught me a couple of lessons per week. She also lived around the corner from me. It was an all girls school so apart from talking about boys all the time there were the relationships that sprang up between girls and, though often derided, were fairly frequent. I had never had a crush on a girl before, certainly not a teacher before.
The teacher I liked was called Miss Pembleton, Susan, and she was beautiful and everything I wanted to be. I tried to hang out with her as often as possible. It wasn't always possible and she could have laughed at the doe eyed girl that I was and told me to go away but she didn't. I suppose it must have been very obvious. My friends often poked fun at me and made me embarrassed but she would just smile at me as though she found the situation amusing.
It wasn't the humiliations from the others that caused me the most problem to be honest, it was to be expected, even I realised that. The humiliation of knowing that I had little, if any control, over my own responses or my own body was the worst thing. It was that knowledge; that my sex filled with liquids whenever Susan was near me, when I heard Susan's voice, and if she asked anything of me. I wasn't even thinking in terms of Susan as a lover, I hadn't even thought that far, it was simply that she caused such a sexual response in me. The knowledge that Susan was in control of my arousal was the worst, even though of course she didn't know anything. I presumed that I could keep this secret to myself.
One eventful afternoon I had raced to find her and had found Susan talking with other girls. I hung around self-consciously and gradually all her students went there separate ways. I was excited as I had never just been left alone with her without others being there. I could feel myself trembling.
"Do you want to come to my place?" I couldn't believe my luck. My face was beet red and I was frightened I would make a fool of myself by speaking. I nodded and walked alongside her listening to her tell me about things that were going on in her life, leaving me to nod or shake my head. At the house she got us both a coke and we went upstairs into the room she rented. It was a large wonderful room, a little more untidy than I expected in my mind but it was cool.
Susan lay on the bed and I sat on the sat on it by her feet, twisting around to see her as she lay with her hands behind her head. Her legs were exposed high up her thighs and her breasts were pushed forward. I could feel myself blushing and leaking.
"You don't have a boyfriend do you?"
"No." Embarrassed, my voice croaking somewhat.
"Do you want one?"
"I don't know really. I have never really thought much about it." Feeling foolish. Not wanting to suggest any other allegiances could hold anything for me.
"Does your pussy ever get wet and itchy?" I nearly died. This was Susan, my teacher, my dream woman. I felt my face explode even though I thought I was red before. I looked at the bedcovers with great attention. I thought I might cry. Eventually I nodded. She looked at me, her eyes boring into me, though she smiled, a smiled which made me feel so naïve and young.
"Are you wet now?" The silence grew and grew again. Finally I nodded.
"What makes you wet?" Did she know? Was this innocent? My breath was problematic. I nodded my head dumbly. The silence grew. I wanted to go. I wanted to stay. I was caught in the headlights of the biggest truck of my life. A tear rolled down one cheek. I was afraid to move, even to hide it. I felt the bed move, felt her hand softly caress the tear across my burning cheeks.
She pulled me back slightly so I lay down over the bed with my legs over the edge. She was kneeling next to me, bending over me now as I stared up at the white ceiling. Soon her hair fell over my face, blocking out my view of the ceiling, all I could see was her face. I could smell her perfume. Her face was inches from me.
"Emma, you want to tell me don't you? What is it that makes you so wet?" Her voice was husky and her breath smelt of past peppermints. I closed my eyes and felt them fill with hot salty tears again. "Tell me."
"Oh you know..."
"Tell me." The silence was never ending as she looked down at me.
"You." A whisper pulled from me to fill the silence.
"Me? I make you wet? I can't believe that." Oh she could.
Her mouth touched me and her lips were burnt from my cheeks. Little kisses covered my eyes as wetness leaked from there too. "You are wet now aren't you?" I didn't know whether she meant my eyes or not. I simply whimpered. Her mouth moved until it covered mine. Open over mine. Mine open to hers in shock. I couldn't move other than that. I was aware of the crack in my buttocks feeling wet as liquids ran down from me more and more. Her fingers slid under my blouse and over my stomach, over and over in the space between jeans and bra. Cool fingers, soft, touching me, Susan's fingers touching my flesh. I lay passively as her mouth caressed my lips and her fingers traced under the fastening of my jeans tantalisingly. My body felt as though I was liquid as her lips continued to touch mine. My eyes were closed allowing the sensations of touch to take me. I felt her fingers deftly under my jeans and the zip opened as her hand slid inside over the lower half of my stomach. My back arched under her touch. My breath was so shallow I wondered if I might faint.
I was very aware that my pubic hairs were covered more and more by her fingers and her hand clutched me tighter and tighter in the confines of my jeans. Agonisingly her finger tip played just short of my sex. The longer it stayed there the more my feelings of sheer panic turned into desperate need.
"Lift, and push them down. Just a little." Her mouth breathed the command into my face. My hips rose a fraction and my jeans were slowly tugged a little lower, just allowing cooler air to reach my lips before her fingers settled over them. I jerked suddenly up at her touch. She soothed me still.
"Oh God you are wet, little one." Her head moved away. I dare not open my eyes to see, knowing what she was looking at. I shuddered. "You and your panties are sodden. I didn't realise you were so wet, little one. Is this all because of me?" I couldn't move despite the total shame. I didn't want her to stop touching me. "Well is it?" I tried to say yes but my voice wouldn't work. I choked vaguely then nodded. Her fingers began to play with me. I felt her all over my wet and puffy lips and gradually more insistently around my clit. It was totally humiliating and yet I was totally spellbound. Her mouth reached down again. Kissing and licking my face she made me feel so wanted, so alive. Her fingers at one end of me her mouth at the other and my face covered with her hair so I could not see any of it, just feel.
She stopped a moment. "Emma do you want me to carry on?" Her voice deeper now.
"Oh yes. Oh yes."
"Do you want me to kiss you?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to do anything else?"
"Oh yes." A soft husky voice came from me. "Please."
"Tell me what you want my baby. Tell me exactly. Come on." She spoke into my face. Giving me kisses as full stops. I was embarrassed and shamed. I couldn't speak. Her fingers touched me again briefly and then were not there. "Tell me!"
