“Miss Taylor!” Loud knock. “Mrs. Lee!” Loud knock. “Miss Taylor!”
Rushing to the door, I barely got my robe tied. I completely neglected to put the chain on first. My big city skills aren’t so good.
As soon as the door was open a foot, Chad pushed past me.
“Sorry, Miss Taylor! Gotta whizz!”
The door to the room sighed and latched shut. I heard the lid slam against the toilet and the sound of pee jetting into the bowl. I actually stuck my head into the room to watch, I have no idea why, although I sometimes wondered what it would be like to hold a penis while peeing. Do you feel the flow? Do you concentrate on aiming? Do you think about masturbating? Back then, thoughts of masturbation absorbed way too much of my mental resources.
I should perhaps clarify, in case you’re not reading this immediately after reading what I wrote previously, that I’m writing about when I was only 21, in my first year of teaching, some nineteen years ago.
A few hours ago, Chad and eleven other students had checked into the hotel, near Little Italy in New York City, chaperoned by Chrissie Lee, Dave Stewart, and me. I taught English at a public high school and was a last minute replacement for one of the journalism advisors. This sort of thing was part of the good fortune and the curse of being one of the few unattached teachers at the school.
All of us except for Dave Stewart had paired up in double rooms on the fourth floor. The school paper would compete at Columbia University for recognition of its journalistic excellence. This three day trip was one of the very few overnight events the school (mostly) paid for. I had enjoyed the two hour bus ride with excitable juniors and seniors and looked forward to our first night in town. Aged sixteen to eighteen, they were giddy with what they imagined as anonymous freedom in a big city.
“Sorry, Miss Taylor,” Chad said, zipping up his pants. “My card wouldn’t open the door and I didn’t think I’d make it all the way to the lobby. I don’t even know if they have restrooms down there. You saved me, thanks.”
This was both awkward and not. Two weeks ago, Chad and I had masturbated each other and more, about which I’ve already written. Even at age 21, I remained committed to my virginity until I got married, however old fashioned that sounded then and sounds sillier today. However, I permitted, even encouraged, anything that didn’t involve penis penetration below my waist.
“You should get on down to dinner,” I said. “You know where it is, just a block up the street. Mr. Stewart and Mrs. Lee are already there and probably everyone else.” I pulled the robe a little tighter.
“I enjoyed what we did at your apartment,” he replied. “I really wanted to come back right away, but my parents have me almost locked down. Except for this trip.”
A huge boundary existed between teachers and students, almost like parents and their kids, and people on opposite sides weren’t supposed to have sex, even if they both thought it an excellent idea. I’d crossed the line once with Chad. If I crossed it again, the boundary would cease to exist. Obviously, another encounter would not be sensible.
On the other hand, masturbating at home alone wasn’t doing much to quench my thirst for intimate contact. It only helped a little when the guy across the street watched me – exhibitionism (and watching him) had become the sexual highlights of the past several months other than the one time with Chad.
What the heck, I thought, Chrissie won’t be back for two hours and who cares if I’m a little late to dinner. They might worry a little about Chad, but probably not enough to actually do anything. I opened my robe, baring my boobs and bald pussy. I put my hand on his jeans and pressed his cock. I kissed him lightly and led him into the room.
Tiny hardly described the room I shared with Chrissie Lee. No more than two feet of space separated the two twin beds. A plain table supported a small TV. There was no dresser. The only place to store clothes, other than leaving them in the suitcases, was in drawers under the bed or, for hanging things, a narrow closet. Hotel-provided robes were a surprise luxury. The room didn’t even provide shampoo.
I started to unbutton Chad’s shirt at the same time he began to get his pants off. We were more eager than coordinated. Dropping my robe left me naked. Chad stripped to his jockeys, which I insisted he leave on so he wouldn’t “accidentally” try to put his cock inside me, like last time. We lay on our sides on the bed sheet, facing each other. Inside his underwear, my hand fondled his cock. He traced my slit.
“Remember what I told you before,” I said. “Take your time and no intercourse.”
His mouth found my boob and licked the nipple. I smiled to myself, a teacher about to enjoy the skills she’s passed along to a smart student, and lay back, spreading my legs. I suppose he took his time according to the much faster clock of a teenager. His fingers pressured my pussy before probing. His mouth sucked and licked greedily, then moved lower. A finger found its way into my hole. My clitty felt the deep breath he took before his tongue began lapping at my cunt. A second finger entered my hole. His tongue moved faster. My legs sprawled further apart and . . .
The door to the room snicked open.
“Diane?” Chrissie called, walking into the room. Her mouth fell open and she wobbled, but didn’t say anything for several seconds. Well, I thought, I almost made it through a whole year of teaching.
Chad stopped licking my cunt, but didn’t move. With his ass in the air and his face in my pussy, we must have been a sight.
Her arms folded across her chest, Chrissie looked fairly formidable. Her black hair had been cut short of her shoulders and she wore no jewelry. Black eyes glared at me over a cute nose and full red lips twisted into a frown. She still had a nice figure at forty or so, but she looked soft, with a bit of a tummy. I pulled the sheet up and Chad grabbed an edge for himself - now we looked even guiltier, together under the sheet.
“I came back to see why you’re late, Diane, and to find out if you had any idea where Chad went. I am, apparently, a brilliant detective, having solved both puzzles. I’m at a loss for what to do about it.”
Me, too, I thought. I considered what I knew about Chrissie. Of the gossip and rumors that passed for conversation in the teachers’ lounge, it was believed that Chrissie had marriage issues and hadn’t had sex with her husband in a long time, perhaps years. She might be a little or a lot lesbian, but most female teachers got that, although married ones not so much. She seemed kinda sexless, contradicting the lesbianism. I wasn’t certain women in their forties even cared much about sex, but both Madame Bovary and Cosmopolitan said they did.
I tossed the sheet covering us aside, more of a charge into the unknown than a well-conceived strategy. Putting my hand on Chad’s cock, which had actually lost some of its firmness, I said, “You could watch, if you want.”
Chrissie took a step back and banged into the wall. She bit her lip and seemed to be thinking it over. She was thinking about something, anyway. I put my hand in his underwear and fondled him. His cock hardened quickly. I pulled my hand out and stroked the sides so it would be clearly outlined for her. A damp spot bloomed through the cotton.
“OK,” she said, a tremble in her voice, “but only if I can take pictures.”
Yikes! I totally didn’t see that coming. With pictures, there would be proof that I was a sex-crazed witch. On the other hand, pictures from six feet away would make Chrissie complicit. I wondered what she would do with them. Who would even think of such a thing back before cellphones?
“Fine,” I said.
I kissed Chad on the lips and whispered, “Let’s start over. Just pretend she’s not here.”
That would be hard to do in a room this small. I rolled Chad on to his back and kissed him hard, my boobs pressing into his chest. I gently ground my pussy against his underwear-protected lap. I heard Chrissie pulling things out of the drawer under her bed. I heard a click. The flash of a camera gleamed brightly in Chad’s eyes.
I rolled under Chad, which took some coordinated effort on the twin bed, and pushed down on his shoulders, urging him lower. He repeated the earlier pattern and soon his tongue lapped at my pussy. Chrissie continued to take pictures, which ought to make it clear I wasn’t simply the aggressor.
“Hot in here,” Chrissie said, loading a new canister of film into the camera. “Shit. Twenty four more pictures and I’m out of film.”
Chad continued to lick my cunt. He pulled my labia apart slightly and his tongue found my clitty with only minor movements required from me. I heard Chrissie suck in a breath. The flash went off again.
“Why is his underwear on?” she asked. “He should take it off.”
“Miss Taylor said she doesn’t want me to have intercourse with her, even by accident,” Chad said, disappointment in his voice.
“I’m saving myself for marriage,” I added, embarrassed.
“Well that’s just stupid,” Chrissie said. “Do what you want, or don’t do what you don’t want, but he should take off his shorts.”
Chad looked at me like a puppy who’d heard the rattle of the dog biscuit box.
“OK,” I replied, “but only if you take off your clothes, too.”
“You don’t make the rules, young lady.”
“This one I do. If Chad’s going to wave his cock around, you’ll be naked, too.”
For all I knew, she had only been looking for an excuse to take everything off. Whatever the case, she didn’t argue further. We watched her undress. She lay her clothes neatly at the foot of her bed. While she did that, I noticed what looked like the end of a vibrator sticking out from under her pillow.
“What’s this?” I asked, and pulled the pillow away to look.
I discovered a translucent dildo about a foot and a half long with penis shapes at both ends. Had she unpacked it when we arrived or just now while looking for the camera? Chad stared at it, his own cock bobbing free from his jockeys and stiffer than the dildo.
“Can I see that?” he asked. “What’s it for?”
Ah, the innocence of the old days before the Internet. I answered for Chrissie.
“It’s so she can masturbate with another woman,” I said.
Chad blushed almost as deeply as Chrissie, who said, “It’s just for me. But what Diane said is right, that’s how some women use it.”
Chrissie took a picture of Chad’s erection. We’d lost the rhythm of his eating my pussy. I had an idea.
“Chrissie, how would you like a picture of you and Chad posing together?”
“No!” she replied.
