"Lesbo Lessons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Twacht Twyla)

Chapter 1

When she arrived in the chairman's office at the high school, Mara Blake was not sure of her boss' sexual interest. Ruth Peter had smiled at her, had talked calmly and casually about the school. But even then, Mara recalled, there was a hint of the sexual attack to come. Even then Ruth had demonstrated a sign that she coveted the younger woman's body. At first it was only in Ruth's eyes. As she talked, her eyes were fixed on the thin cotton T-shirt that sheathed her full round breasts, on the large nipples that seemed ready to burst through.

A moment later as she asked her question, Ruth's eyes fell to the Eurasian beauty's long bare legs and the smooth coffee-colored thighs and lingered on Mara's crotch. Mara was nervously aware that the skirt hugged her flesh too tightly, that her hips and breasts were too sexy for this kind of interview. But it was a hot day and she hated heat. For a second she thought she was wrong about Ruth Peter being a lesbian, but her next remark worried her even more than what seemed to be a frank look of open desire.

"Your skin is very lovely, Miss Blake," Ruth Peters said, eyeing her carefully. "it looks like burnished gold. It's so beautiful I want to touch it."

Ruth laughed as Mara blushed. "Oh it's just that I paint, my dear, and I am so sensitive to skin color. I do a good many nudes in fact." Ruth's eyes were riveted to the deft between Mara's firm thighs. "The texture of skin does fascinate me."

She leaned forward and rubbed her fingers lightly along the beautiful girl's thighs. For a crazy moment, Mara was sure, they would plunge upward into her vagina, entwine themselves madly about her thick bush. It was not only that Ruth's gesture was deeply sensual, she could see that the woman was seriously aroused. Ruth's eyes were dilating as she stared at Mara's legs and her voice was trembly. Or was all this just in her mind?

I shouldn't have worn this damned dress, Mara thought irritably, but she wanted something cool and she had hardly expected a lesbian chairman of the English department. If she had she would not have perfumed her vagina with Chanel Number Five. That had been for Mike, whom she would be seeing in an hour. Mike had insisted. That would be his appetizer, he said jokingly.

"First I suck your perfumed pussy and then we have a French dinner. What could be a better way to start." Mara had not objected. She loved the way Mike gave her head. It kept her tingling down there till they could make love later in his apartment.

"For dessert I'm going to let you eat my cock," he went on teasingly, "and jam it up your lovely sweet smelling cunt."

So Mara had doused her pubic area heavily with it. Rubbed it into the bush, along the sensitive lips of her vagina, even into the labia till they stung. Why not, the big bottle was Mike's personal gift and it had cost him a fortune. But now she was sorry. She wore only the light fluffy red lace panties that Mike had brought at Les Prin-temps in Paris, ridiculously gossamer thin briefs that consider of a couple of strings, a flap in the back that just screened a few inches of her buttocks and that was shamelessly open in front. Mike had bought them because he enjoyed parking the car on a dark street, when they were going somewhere, lifting up her skirt and sucking her. It drove her crazy but he loved it.

But now she was aware that from her chair a few feet away Ruth must obviously be smelling the strong scent that came from her bush. And it was affecting her. She switched her own chair slightly so that Ruth could not stare between her thighs. Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe Ruth Peter was just regarding her with the eye of an excited painter. It was important that she get this job. She loved teaching and this was one of the best high schools in Los Angeles. She did not just want a dun job modeling or being a receptionist, and acting bored her. Teaching young active, brilliant minds, excited her. If she could get the job then she would not have to return to Hong Kong.

"Please, Miss Peter," she began now. "I really do think I could do a good job. I know I haven't had experience here in LA but I've taught in New York and the Board of Education okayed me. If I can just get your okay for a trial period-"

Ruth Peter's eyes stared at the girl's nipples. "You know I would love to paint you in the nude," she said, as if she had not heard Mara. "It would be like a Gauguin portrait. Very challenging. Maybe we can talk about that some time." She rose and walked to her file cabinet. Mara sat there cursing herself for wearing the outfit she had. She knew now it had not just been the heat. When the name R. J. Peter had been listed as the chairman, she had assumed it was a man. She knew the chairman had to okay her or she could not work. Deep down, she realized, she had wanted the male chairman to stare at her thighs, even to get an erection, as men often did when they sat opposite her. It was her trump card with men, working them up.

She had even wanted him to look between her legs and probably would have made it easy for him to see her bush and to sniff the heady perfume mixed with her own fleshly scent. She could handle the man later, perhaps let him cop a feel now and then, but if he wanted more, she would hint that his wife would hear about it. But a lesbian boss always threw her off. She never knew what to do, how to avoid trouble, and God knew there would be trouble with this woman. She felt instinctively that if the door had been locked, as it had been in New York when she applied for a modeling job, Ruth would have kissed her.

Maybe she would not have done the grotesque thing the woman in New York had done. The plump, matronly woman, who had obviously had several drinks at lunch, actually got on her knees, spread Mara's thighs and let her mouth slobber hungrily over Mara's vagina, continuing to tongue her until Mara had gone out of her head. The idiotic woman kept saying constantly "Oh baby I love your cunt… I love it… I love… Do you think you could suck mine? Nobody'll bother us… They got instructions never to come in without me asking them to and the door's locked."

She had needed the job badly and had finally bent over the woman's fat thighs as she lay sprawled over the desk and lapped at her already very wet bush. But she had fled the job a week later because the woman harassed her. Was Ruth Peter going to do this to her now? This job was far more important to her. She had trained hard for this job and she wanted it desperately. Could she put up with that kind of thing again, she wondered as Ruth peered at some files. Suddenly a thought hit her. A way out.

If she pleaded another important appointment, she might leave with her okay without inviting further trouble. Once she started teaching at Ames High, she could try to cope with Ruth's demands. At least she was not as ugly and gross as the woman in New York.

"Excuse me Miss Peter but I have to go… You see I have a doctor's appointment… I thought the interview would be over sooner and I've had to wait three months to see this man… Since you've studied my dossier and we have talked… could I… I mean, can I count on starting here next month?"

Ruth turned and smiled. "Let's discuss that tonight. You're having dinner with me at my place… I always do this with new teaching candidates, dear. I get to know them much better that way. You know, we're out of the formal office atmosphere… no phone calls… interruptions." As Mara looked doubtful, she went on in a tight, firm voice, "And I know I'm going to like you very much."

Ruth smiled but Mara knew instinctively she was doing the wrong thing by pleading a dinner date even as she did it. The chairman sat back in her swivel chair and seemingly inadvertently moved her legs apart. Mara could see the strong white muscular thighs above the sticking tops. As she talked with her eyes fixed on the wall over Mara's head, her thighs seemed to spread farther apart so that Mara could see the crotch of her panties.

She's letting me blow she wants me to eat her pussy, Mara thought irritably. It was what Wendy used to do her when the British lesbian wanted to be sucked. She would open her legs wide till Mara understood and if Mara hesitated too long, she became as annoyed as Ruth was now. The chairman fingered the lapels of her dark suit jacket, closed her legs and suddenly looked forbidding as she scowled behind her dark frame glasses. If there had been a spark of sexual attractiveness about her for Mara it had vanished. with her schoolmarm bun and her cold tight lips, she looked like a human iceberg.

"Perhaps you can try me again in a year or two," Ruth snapped. "There are many candidates for this job who can take the time. And I like long intimate chats like these. "

She stared meaningfully at Mara, who winced inwardly. She's telling me either I go down on her or I'm finished, the bitch. But she would have to play her little stupid game. Mara threw up her hands and said she would come by all means. Mike would be angry but the job came first.

"Fine," Ruth smiled. Her muscular thighs opened wider. "And who knows. If you're not too tired later and I ply you with enough brandy, you'll pose for me in the nude." As she talked Ruth seemed to lick her lips again and Mara winced inwardly. There was no doubt what kind of night this was going to be. It was going to be a repeat of the night her governess raped her in Rangoon.

That had been ten years ago, when her father, a Belgian diplomat, had been posted to the embassy there. She had loved Rangoon, and her mother, a lissome Chinese beauty whom her father had married years earlier in Shanghai, was delighted. They had taken a huge house, hired servants-her father had been independently wealthy then through his family's textile factories-and they had lived like kings. She had been given her own private tutor, a prim, intelligent Englishwoman who had lived in the Far East a long while. Wendy Plimptbn.

The rape had occurred a few weeks after Wendy was hired. They had been following their usual routine of strenuous English lessons in the morning, followed by history and economics. In the hot afternoons they would drive in Wendy's MG to a pretty wooded area with an almost totally obscured pool and swim in the buff. Mara loved these swims and the warmth of the sun on her wet naked body as she and Wendy, their bodies glistening, lay on the grass. Wendy's body was fuller than her own, melon-heavy breasts with large brown nipples and long legs. One afternoon as she lay spread-eagled in the sun, a buzzing insect made her open her eyes and she was surprised to see Wendy staring hungrily at her vagina. The Englishwoman's face was just a few inches away.

At first Mara thought Wendy had seen an insect in her pelvic area and jumped up in fear.

"What is it, Wendy?"

Wendy blushed. "Nothing. I was just admiring you. My hair is a bit sparse down there and almost scraggly." She pointed to the thin line of growth that framed the heavy brown lips of her vagina, then reached out and traced lightly with her forefinger the already luxuriant growth of hair that framed the thin pink lips of Mara's vulva. Mara felt a delicious, tingling sensation as the English girl's finger touched the labia but thought only that it reminded her of a medical examination.

She laughed. "I thought you were going to poke your finger inside like the doctor with his instrument and move it around to see if I'm healthy."

Wendy's eyes widened. "Wen, perhaps I should, Mara," she said seriously. "Have you been examined very recently?"

Mara shook her head. "Four, five months at least."

"Well, one should check more often," Wendy said quickly. "My mother felt me in there regularly like this, just to be on the safe side."

Without waiting for Mara's response, she plunged her long forefinger into the sixteen-year-old girl's vagina. It hurt at first because Mara was still a virgin then and the finger had to squeeze past the hymen. But once inside Wendy's finger felt surprisingly good and very pleasurable and as the Englishwoman's probing finger swished around inside her genitals, Mara felt very excited. She found herself panting as her pubic bush became very wet from the effusion caused by Wendy's finger. Wendy's face, when she looked at it, was red and her eyes were dilating.

"You're beautifully made, Mara dear, and quite healthy inside there, thank goodness. Would you do that to me, please."

Mara blushed. She had never touched a woman's vagina before but before she could reply, they heard a truck coming on a road not far from where they lay. Wendy jumped up.

"We'd better leave… it sounds like an army truck… they occasionally play war games in this area." As they threw on their togs, she smiled. "I know what. After dinner tonight, when I practice the English grammar with you, you can do me."

Mara laughed. "You want me to do that in the library? I think Daddy or Mummy would find it very odd, don't you?"

"We'll do it in your bedroom dear," Wendy said. "I'm a little worried about myself, you know." She began to pout. "You don't mind examining me too, do you?"

Mara shook her head. She knew now that, had she not been so terribly naive about sex, having had nothing remotely to do with boys because of her secluded existence, she might have realized trouble was ahead. But the whole idea of lesbianism at that time was as strange and unknown to her as television might be to a man who awoke after sleeping fifty years. But that night she discovered another Wendy. This fussy, prim British girl, who sounded like a character out of the English films her mother took her to, was a woman with an alarming sexual appetite.

They had been in Mara's bedroom only a few minutes, when Wendy put aside their English grammar books, locked the door and stretched out on the bed. Lifting her skirt, she spread her legs. Mara was surprised to see she was wearing no underwear.

"You've got no panties on," she said, smiling.

"All ready for your examination, my dear," Wendy said. "And do be thorough. Move in and out at a vigorous pace so you can see if you feel anything. It's terribly important to do it properly, you know!"

Mara got on the bed and did as Wendy requested, driving her finger in and out. The effect on Wendy astonished her. The older girl began to breathe at a faster pace and then to emit little groans. At first she thought she was hurting the girl and apologized. She pulled her finger away from Wendy's slit.

"Oh no… no," Wendy pleaded, "don't stop… you must go on. Try to touch the little button at the top of my thing, dear, that is terribly, terribly important in checking."

Mara obeyed and pressed Wendy's prominent clitoris until the groans grew louder. "Oh my God," Wendy said.

"I don't feel anything inside, Wendy," Mara said.

"How much more do you think I ought to try-"

She had no chance to finish her sentence. Wendy punctuated it by sitting bolt upright in the bed and embracing her…

"Oh darling… " Wendy said, "darling." As the young Eurasian remained speechless, she was thrown back on the bed and her legs flung apart. A second later, Wendy's hot tongue was probing her bush, looking for the labia, sucking them furiously.

"Don't," Mara pleaded, frightened by what was happening to her, "Let me go, Wendy… "

But the English tutor continued to suck her vagina as if she was fighting for life.

"You have such a divine little pussy, my darling," she said, "So divine. I wanted to do this to you this afternoon and. if all those horrid men had not driven up, I would have. "

"Let me go," Mara wailed, "you're crazy."

"I love you, darling," Wendy said. Opening Mara's blouse, she pulled out the girl's developing breasts and began to suck them. Mara's sensations wavered between pleasure at the feel of Wendy's hot, active tongue on her nipples and the fear that her teeth would bite into them as the girl became more and more impassioned.

"You're hurting me," Mara yelled. "Stop it or I'll call my father."

"Don't do that," Wendy said quickly, her voice hardening. "If your father caught us in bed together, he'd kill you."

"What… what are you talking about?"

"Darling, men don't understand the love women have for one another. If he knew this was happening, you'd be sent to some horrible little convent in Bruges or Antwerp. Never see the outside world again… that's what they do to women like us."

"Us? But I did nothing at all," Mara protested. "You made me do this. You made me-"

"It doesn't matter," Wendy snapped. "You wanted this as much as I. You enjoyed doing me this afternoon. I saw it in your eyes."

"You just imagined it," Wendy cried. "I was just trying to examine you like you asked me to."

"No!" Wendy took the girl in her arms. As Wendy strove to free herself, she kissed her on her mouth "You love me as I love you… This is better than any stupid man can give you, darling."

"Let me go or I'll scream for help," Mara cried.

"You do that, my little minx, and I'll tell your father that you locked us in and demanded that I make love with you. That you forced me to lie on your bed, spread my thighs and let you lick my pussy or you'd have me sacked." Her voice rose dangerously.

"You wouldn't!" Mara said. She could not believe that all this was coming from a girl who had always acted so differently with her before. A girl who had always been so kind, so accommodating to her, so humble in her requests. She sounded like a tyrant. Wendy's eyes blazed as she stroked Mara's buttocks.

"Darling, I not only will, but I shall also tell them you've been doing it to me during our afternoon swims. And you know what would happen. You know how hot-tempered your father is when he really gets cross. It will not only horrify him and your dear mater, it will send you packing off to Belgium in a flash. And what's more, I'll see that the news gets there too. Because when I start something I finish it."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Mara asked, trembling.

"Because you've hurt me," Wendy said petulantly. "I don't give myself to another woman easily. I'm very selective. I gave myself to you because I could see you wanted me. And because I'm head over heels in love with you."

As Wendy spoke, her finger drifted back to Mara's wet bush and began to poke between her pink labia.

"Let me make love to you, darling."

Mara tried to push her away but the English girl's superior weight and strength held her down to the bed. Tossing the girl down hard, she pulled back Mara's skirt and then lifted her own. Before the teen-aged girl knew what was happening to her she felt Wendy's bush against her own. She could feel the wetness and the hardness of Wendy's pubic area against hers. The English tutor began to grind her vulva against Mara's.

"Oh Lord this feels wonderful," Wendy groaned aloud. "This is what I love most-the feeling of your delicious Mary Jane against mine, our wetness together. I adore the feel of your wet luxurious bush against mine. Oh dearest this is heaven."

A moment later they heard footsteps outside and then Mara's father's voice.

"Are you all right dear?" he said unconcernedly, "I thought I heard you yell as I passed."

"Tell him it's all right," Wendy whispered fiercely in Mara's ear as their vaginas pressed hard against one another. "Unless you want to ruin us both. You love what we're doing. I can feel your heart beating faster. Don't try to lie to yourself."

Mara hesitated. There was some truth in what Wendy said.

"Mara?" her father said. "Did you hear me?" Mara thought quickly of what Wendy had promised. She was upset by what was happening to her, but she could not overlook Wendy's threats and what would probably follow. Banishment to a convent would be horrible.

"I'm all right Daddy," She said as Wendy's lips sucked at her breast. "Just a little drowsy."

"Don't stay up too long then," her father said. "We're going to the airport to meet your aunt very early."

When he left Wendy kissed her even harder and began to grind her vagina relentlessly against Mara's crotch until suddenly the Englishwoman let out a loud groan and then a sigh. Then she sank back.

"Wonderful… wonderful… did I pleasure you dear?"

"No," Mara said. "And I want you to stay away from me. Don't you dare touch me again."

"Let's not be so blustery, darling," Wendy laughed. "We've only just begun."

"What on earth are you talking about!"

"I'm coming to your room tomorrow and the day after that. And there'll be marvelous lovemaking in the afternoons in our own little Eden." Wendy's voice grew tender. "You loved it, dear. I could feel your body trembling with pleasure… don't deny it." Her voice hardened. "And remember what I said. I start what I finish."

Mara lay back against the pillows, her ears burning, her eyes welling up with tears. Tears because she knew she was trapped and because she realized that she herself was physically aroused. As angry as she was at the rape, she had felt pleasure, sexual pleasure. Wendy's lips on her vagina had thrilled her exquisitely.

The next few weeks were the most difficult in her life. She feared the assaults that Wendy made on her in the forest and in her room and yet she wanted them. And the long visit of her Aunt Lianne, who was married to a pastor in Bruges and spoke incessantly about sin and the temptations of the flesh, did not help.

Once, sneaking into the embassy's library, she looked up lesbianism in a work about psychiatry and her eyes burned. She was horrified. She did not feel that way. She liked men. And yet it was true that she had been pleasured by Wendy's body against hers.

The thought that she was acting as a lesbian, coupled with her aunt's diatribes against sexual sin and the fear that her father would learn of her lovemaking with Wendy, made her ill. She spent whole days in her room with the door locked so that Wendy could not get to her. When the embassy doctor recommended a short trip to Belgium, she accepted the idea with alacrity. Anything to get away. She did not want to be a lesbian; she wanted a husband…

Once in Bruges with her uncle, she felt better. Determined not to go back to Burma and Wendy, she begged her father to let her attend Barnard College in New York where a close friend was enrolled. Her father was pleased and assented. And two years later maneuvered for a post at the United Nations to be nearer to his only child.

She had loved Barnard and New York and trained to be a teacher. But there were no permanent jobs available, only substitute jobs, and these in depressed area schools. She hated going to the dangerous neighborhoods and she hated the modeling jobs she used to filled in the time. And her occasional dates with men were not too satisfactory. She would meet a boy and then break with him a few weeks later. Finally, against her mother and father's wishes she had decided to try Los Angeles. She loved the climate and she had friends there including a classmate at Barnard whose father was politically important. Her chances of getting a permanent job were much better than in New York.

At first she had been delighted. She loved the sunny California climate, the comparatively easy-going pace of living, and her tiny flat in a complex that included many young people. She met Mike, a bright, handsome accountant who loved theater, books and had traveled widely in Europe. And finally the chance for a job had come through with her the efforts of her classmate. But the final decision rested now with Ruth Peter. She had waited months for the chance, she thought sadly, and now again, her fate might depend on the way she satisfied a lesbian.

As she emerged from her Pinto and walked toward the trim white house set behind some hedges and a carefully manicured green lawn, she trembled. But what worried her even more was that she felt very wet between her legs. Even as she drove along the freeway to Ruth's house in the gathering darkness, she could tell that the moisture from her vagina had drenched her pantyhose.

What a stupid ninny she was. She knew what would happen, and the awful thing was that somewhere deep down inside her she looked forward to it. Not so much out of sexual need but because the lovemaking of a woman was so fascinating to her. Had Wendy been right when she told her that Mara needed the lesbian sex as much as she did? It was a thought that had tormented her through the intervening years.

Several times in New York, she had been approached by women… at parties, teachers' meetings. Women would look at her meaningfully, sometimes manage to touch her breasts or bottom "accidentally on purpose." Once at a party a rich matron from the wealthiest part of Long Island had promised to get her a job at a posh private school, then had pushed her into a dark corridor and told her boldly that she loved her.

"Darling, I want to be in bed with you right now," this incredible bitch with two enormous diamond rings and a dress from Dior had told her coolly. "I want to kiss those darling breasts of yours and nibble at your lovely crotch. Chinese girls work me up. Do you know my pussy's wet for you right now?"

Mara had run away from her, not believing that a woman who looked like a high society dame in a Marx Brothers film could say things like that. Afterwards she gave women a wide berth if they showed any intimacies. And suddenly, after this encounter, she had wanted to assert her interest in men so much that a week later, when a forty-five year old lawyer she had met at a theater wanted to sleep with her, she made no objection. He had taken her home after the show, gave her a quick drink of Cutty Sark scotch and proceeded to run his fingers under her skirt. It was almost laughable, she remembered now, how much she wanted him to. And he was so astonished that she, a stunningly beautiful Eurasian girl, was not merely a virgin but had given her virginity to him.

He had lain her back an the couch and for fully ten minutes let his eyes roam hungrily aver her vagina, touching it tenderly, licking it greedily with his tongue, delving his noise into it, mouthing the pink vulva, swallowing it as if it were sheer nectar.

"I'm… I'm flabbergasted," he finally said. "A virgin? And you're giving your cherry to an old crock like me. Why?"

"Because you're nice and because I feel like it. Don't keep me waiting, dear."

But he had. He was so nervous at the sight of the magnificent naked young girl with the slant eyes, the luxurious bush with its pink labia like a pretty rose-hued canal slicing through a deep dark forest, by the look of her superb thighs and breasts, that he could not get his penis hard enough to enter her. First he tried to arouse himself further by continuing to suck her vagina and her lovely round globes of breasts. Then he had turned her over and ran his tongue lovingly over the beautiful hillocks of her tawny buttocks. Finally sucking at her buttocks made him hard enough to mount her but he came almost at once.

Still, she had enjoyed it, psychologically more than physically maybe, because it had been her first heterosexual lovemaking and for weeks it sustained her. She had tried two other men but then stopped because she really did not enjoy their rough love play too much. Not until she had met Mike in Los Angeles had she met a man who could thrill her. Yes, Mike was special, she thought, as she prepared to ring Ruth's bell, but he had not stopped her from being curious about making love to women. If he had, her crotch would not be soaking wet now, would it?

But perhaps it was just wet because she had fantasized that it would as exciting to be made love to by Ruth Peter as it had been during those guilt-filled afternoons in Burma when Wendy had lapped at her breasts, tongued her crotch and run her expert fingers over her flesh. Ruth Blake was a stick compared to Wendy. She looked, in her classical bun, mannish suit and dark bone frame glasses, like a ridiculous owl. It would probably be awful.

She would have to lie back on the bed with her eyes dosed, fortified by several drinks, logy with the food, and accept the tiresome woman's assaults. Maybe as the nitwit went down on her she could pretend it was Wendy back in Rangoon.

She snickered inwardly as she waited for a response to her ring. "I'll imagine I'm on the noon balloon to Rangoon and that Wendy is eating my pussy and pretending it's a savory she is having for dinner." She felt a little lightheaded as she recalled Wendy saying that once in her delightful British drawl. "Dearest Mara, I do so fancy eating your lovely clitoris. It's like having a savory at Churchill's in London after a fine dinner… "

Her thoughts were jolted by the sudden opening of the heavy oaken door and what she saw framed in the doorway stunned her. It was a beautiful woman in her thirties. Ruth Peter had let her long brown hair down and it tumbled about her shoulders. She wore a blouse that showed a generous cleavage. A pair of blue satiny shorts hugged her hips tightly, revealing magnificent long thighs and curvaceous hips. As she followed Ruth into the spacious living room, Mara was aghast. Ruth's legs were lovelier than she had imagined, long tapering stems that reminded her of the showgirls she had seen high kicking at New York nightclubs.

Her excitement continued as she saw Ruth bend over to pick up a plate of delicious hors d'oeuvres. Mara caught a tantalizing glimpse of full, round breasts with large brown nipples. Her bush felt wetter than ever and she felt her own nipples hardening.

"I-I'm a little surprised," Mara said slowly, unable to tear her eyes away. "You looked so formal in the office and now-"

"And now I'm a lot sexier?" Ruth smiled. Her hand reached out and cupped Mara's breast lovingly. "I'm going to surprise you a lot more later dear."