Gloria and Miss Andrews

It was the contemporary literature class in college that sparked my interest in deciding to major in English. My English teacher, Miss Andrews, who informed us that she was thirty years old on the first day of school, seemed to be so full of life and energy. I was almost nineteen and had the same energy; I wanted to change the world.

As the term got under way, I noticed that the themes of much of what we read had to deal with women's issues in general and lesbian writers in particular. She was enthusiastic in her approach, and I enjoyed the class. My enthusiasm generated even more enthusiasm from her. Even the young men were interested.

I admired her thoroughly; I had her on a pedestal. I was in love with her!

One day, in mid-October, Miss Andrews asked me to stay after school. She said she needed help choosing new material. I was hoping it was a pretext for something more . . . exciting. For a young woman like me, the idea of making love to my mentor appealed to me as nothing else had.

She was sitting at her desk reading an oversized paperback book. She set it on her desk upside-down

"What are you reading?" I inquired.

She handed the book to me. The top half of the front cover showed two nude women in an opened mouth kissing embrace while lying in shallow water. The book was titled The Wild Good, and its subtitle was Lesbian Photographs & Writings on Love. I flipped through the pages and saw poetry and prose and random photographs, but one photograph caught my attention. It showed a woman straddling another woman, and her hand was reaching to her pussy. Her breasts leaned forward erotically. The picture looked as if it were taken by the woman who was lying down. I could feel the dampness in my pussy. I had to sit down. I could feel my face getting redder.

Miss Andrews looked at me and said, "Miss Keough, what's the matter?" She stood up and approached the student desk I was seated in. She leaned over, and I looked up into her face. She had a kind, young face. She smiled. "Does the book excite you?"

I stammered a reply, and as I did so, I looked at her chest, for the front of her low-cut dress revealed her full, round breasts. How I wanted to kiss them and rub them and nestle my face in them!

Miss Andrews walked over to the door and shut it and locked it. She turned off the lights. "It will look as if no one is in here, and we have enough light from the windows. The custodian never gets here until after six o'clock."

She stood in front of me. "Stand up," she commanded.

I did so silently, and Miss Andrews began to unbutton my blouse. I reached over and started to unbutton the front of her dress. My blouse was fully unbuttoned, and I had stopped opening her dress when she removed my blouse; then she pulled my bra straps from my shoulders. I started to shiver.

She hugged me and said, "Don't be nervous, sweetheart."

But I shocked her when I replied, "I'm not nervous; I'm fucking horny, and if you don't hurry, I'm going to rip your dress off because I want to eat your goddamn pussy!" I shocked myself with that profanity, too.

But she was imperturbable. "Gloria, sweetheart, if we take it slowly, we can make it last, and we will both enjoy each other's sweet pussies."

She pulled the front of my bra over my breasts, and she began sucking them as if her life depended on it. "Oh, god, I love young breasts," she murmured as she unhooked the snap on my skirt. It fell to the carpeted floor. I was in my panties. She kneeled down and began to inhale my pussy through my panties. "Oh, god, I love young pussy," she murmured as she pulled my panties down to the floor. I stepped out of them.

She stood up and told me to undress her. I had a long trail of buttons to undo, for they went the full length of her dress. I got behind her and pulled her dress off and laid it on a nearby student desk. She had on a full slip and bra; I could see the outline of her bikini panties on her small hips. She pulled the slip over her head herself, and I reached down to pull her panties off. I wanted to smell her without the panties. She turned and faced me--I was eye level with her bald pussy.

"Let me guess," I said, "depilatory cream."

She pulled my head into her cunt and spread her legs apart. I pulled her cunt lips apart and breathed in deeply as she said, "Our cunts are too beautiful to be hidden by hair—or clothing." She was wet, and her odors were pure woman; she was like me; she didn't believe in washing it daily. The smell was strong, very strong. I brought my tongue in contact with her clit, and she got wetter instantly. She moaned and spread her legs even further apart. I swiped my tongue along the length of her very wet cunt.

I could tell she was beginning to lose her balance, so I suggested we get into a sixty-nine.

She said, "No, because I want to feel and enjoy the sensations of your tongue on me. And you can concentrate on me."

I lay down on the floor between her legs, which she had spread wide apart for me. I pulled her lips apart, and her inner lips were tiny and wet. Her head of her clitoris stuck out from under its little hood. All in all, she had a very small pussy area. I brought my nose in and smelled along the entire length; it smelled like mine--musky and strong. I stuck the tip of my tongue into her vagina, and I thought the heat would melt my tongue. After moving it around, I pulled it out, and I looked at her piss hole. I looked up and asked, "Miss Andrews, do you have to pee?"

"God, yes," she replied, "but keep going. I'll pee later. And please call me Bethany"

I said, "No need to; pee in my mouth. As far as I'm concerned, it's still cunt juice." Without replying, she relaxed her body and began to pee. I kept my mouth on her bald cunt, swallowing rapidly.

Over and over she kept murmuring, "Bless your sweet heart, Gloria."

I resumed my attentions on her cunt; I even ran my tongue on her anus. She had several orgasms, and I kept on eating her.

Finally she said, "Oh, god, please stop; you are wearing me out."

I rolled over onto my back. She got up on her knees and removed her bra. Her large breasts fell forward, and they sagged a little. They seemed out of proportion to her body. I stared at them while she rubbed them and played with the nipples.

"I have my mother's breasts and my father's slim body build," she said. "But I do love them." She bent down and pulled a nipple to her mouth and sucked it until it got hard. "I do this when I masturbate, and I get off pretty quickly," she said.

She leaned forward so that her pendulous breasts were at my mouth. I reached up and played with their softness. I sucked one nipple then another. Then she moved back and brought her mouth to mine. She kissed me tentatively at first. She pulled back and smiled at me. "I love you," she said, "and I have from the first moment you entered my class." Then she came back to me with stronger pressure on the next kiss, opening her mouth widely. Her long tongue was all over my tongue, teeth, palate, and lips. Her saliva was everywhere, and I reveled in it. I wanted more!

But she had other ideas. She lingered on my breasts only for a moment; then she trailed her tongue down over my belly, swirled it in my navel--I almost went out of my mind on that one--and finally ran her tongue all over my pubic hair.

She lay on her belly between my legs. I spread my legs as far apart as possible. She concentrated on my clit with her tongue. Then she put her middle finger in me. She pulled it out and put in two and wiggled them all about; she pulled them out and pushed in four fingers. She knew what was pleasing to me. I had had several orgasms. I also struggled to refrain from peeing. Finally, she said to me, "You drank my pee; now I want yours."

I let flow a torrent, and I thought for sure that she would lose it all, but she knew how to adapt.

We lay on the floor together and kissed deeply. Then I thought about the picture on the cover of the book. I took the superior position, and I imagined we were in a shallow pool on a hot summer day. I rubbed my body so that our cunts rubbed together.

"Oh, Gloria, I'm coming! Oh, I love you so much! Love me forever!"

It was almost six when we got dressed. I opened the windows to freshen up the air. The smell of women's sex permeated the air. Miss Andrews lighted a candle. "Lilac scented candles do a better job," she said, winking at me.

We talked for another hour about various things. I also found out that she had seduced several of my classmates, and she gave me names, all of whom I had suspected of being closet lesbians. I mentally tagged those for future reference.

For the rest of the school year we had sex fairly often and for most of my college years. I was also able to have sex with several of the girls whom Miss Andrews had seduced. I will have to agree with Miss Andrews--young pussy does taste good.