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

Chapter 3

The picnic was being held in a beautiful wooded area in the foothills of some mountains close to Los Angeles. After an hour of easy driving over the speedy freeway, Mara arrived at a lake which was the most beautiful she had ever seen. Above the shoreline on one side was a thick forest which reminded her of the forests in Malaya. Mara loved it the moment she saw it.

She had come alone at Ruth Peter's insistence.

"We have to be careful not to start rumors about us," Ruth explained. "And I'm such a bad actor when I'm with someone I adore. They would see my eyes hungering for those gorgeous breasts of yours, they'd notice me staring at your lovely legs and hips when you walked around in your short shorts or swim suit. And they might easily realize," Ruth laughed mischievously, "that I want to rip the shorts off and nuzzle that delicious little cunt of yours." Ruth's tongue flipped in and out of her mouth.

Mara laughed at Ruth's expression. She looked as if she were about to go down on her right then and there.

"And above all don't let me drink too much," Ruth pleaded. "I lose all sense of perspective of what I'm doing. And besides, it's such a long drive home. I don't want to wind up in a drunk tank downtown."

"You mean people really get crocked on these picnics?" Mara smiled. "I thought teachers were very formal, sedate types. At least that's how they were in Europe. Over there you have a Christmas eggnog drink with your fellow teachers or a New Year's Day drop in to say hello and you vanish" I never saw anybody get smashed there."

"You'll see." Ruth chuckled. "Teachers in Los Angeles are a very different breed. My motto at these picnics is keep one eye on your breasts and the other on your crotch because before the afternoon's half over, somebody's going to reach for other. Oh there are all sorts of excuses later" Sweet apologetic telephone messages." She mimicked the teachers who made such calls to her last year:

" 'Oh dear, Ruth, did I make a boo boo and poke my fingers under your shorts yesterday" Forgive me… " I was smashed.' "

Ruth laughed. "Ralph Mason was the funniest. He got so smashed that he got me in the water while we were swimming. He'd already had two or three martinis before I got there. He pulled down my bikini bottom and under the pretense that he was trying to find it, kept coming up between my legs and nipping at my pussy. Ordinarily the thought of it man trying to go down on me gives me the shudders. But Ralph was smashed and I was rather too. He kept running his tongue against my pubic area trying to slip it into my slit and of course the water made it terribly impractical.

"All the poor ass got was a mouthful of cunt hairs and water." As Ruth giggled at the memory, Mara could not help thinking what an odd person her hostess was. In the office, the very embodiment of Mrs. Grundy. One almost expected her to wear physically the corset she wore mentally and verbally. But now, as Ruth Peter escorted her from the far end of the parking lot to the picnic area, she positively reveled in using sexy talk. It was as if by using words like "cunt hair," "my slit" and "pussy" she was reinforcing their sexual relationship, reminding the other girl that they were secret lovers.

"Anyway, darling," Ruth repeated. "You'll see what I'm talking about as soon as we get over the crest of that hill."

A few minutes later Mara saw. The teachers, about thirty of them plus a few of their teen-aged children, were congregating around a row of tables laden with food, bottles of liquor, bowls of spiked punch and beautifully packaged gifts. The gifts were prizes for various raffles or games to be played later on.

Everyone was dressed casually or, it might be more accurate to say, they were undressed casually. The women wore the tiniest of swimsuits, the men just swim trunks. They were all lining up for more drinks and greeted the newcomers with wild cries of welcome.

"Where do we change to swim," Mara asked. "I don't see any bathhouses. Should I have put my swimsuit on under my shorts and blouse?"

"Goodness no," Ruth told her. "We just dive behind I some bushes and strip. Just look behind you to make sure one of these lecherous bastards isn't trying to pin you down on the grass the moment he sees the white of your fanny. Last year Annie McGinnis waited till she had three drinks to go swimming. She was too woozy to know she was being watched by one of the basketball coaches.

"The moment she had her shorts off, he came behind her and tried to ram his damned cock into her backside. She told me she thought she'd been attacked by a bear. I wish I could have seen the look on her face. Can you imagine what it must be like to have an unseen visitor come up between your buttocks, give you a big bear hug and then sudden feel a stiff penis working its way into your ass. Men are such awful beasts. Crude, crude, crude.

"I didn't mind old Ralphie. Because it was in the water and he nearly drowned trying to swallow the lake and my cunt at the same time. But this other bastard… ugh… Can you imagine what might have happened if that fool's wife had come on the scene and stared at her husband grunting like a nitwit as he pumped his cock into Annie's asshole?"

From the way Ruth's words were slurred and her somewhat uncertain gait as they neared the tables, Mara knew her boss had already had some drinks. Her language also reflected the fact that she was fast losing any inhibitions she might have had about protecting her so-called official image.

But it was obvious immediately to Mara that everyone was unconcerned about inhibitions or language. She had deliberately come late and everyone was way ahead of her on the liquor line.

Everyone Ruth introduced to her acted as if they had known her for years. J De Mills put an arm around her, drew her close as he gave her a double martini from a thermos jug and welcomed her to the party with a boozy kiss. Mara was so stunned at the paunchy, balding satyr's approach that she did not move her face away.

"Christ it's about time we had a good-looking dame in the English department, right Tom?" Joe bellowed at the nearby Leonard. Suddenly aware of Ruth Peter's stem expression, he grinned and bowed. "Present company excepted naturally." Ruth gave him a chilly smile. Mara saw Tom, a tall, thin-faced man who did indeed look like Paul Newman, offer a smile that was more than half leer.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've seen teaching anything in a decade at least," Tom Leonard said, squeezing her hand meaningfully. "You remind me of Mata Han," he added teasingly. "Do you by chance happen to be a dancer like her?"

"Mata Hari was half Dutch, half Indonesian or what passed for Indonesian," a thin piping voice behind him said. "But this one is much prettier. I've seen pictures of Mata Hari. She wasn't half as lovely."

Mara turned to smile at Ralph O'Hare, a tall, Lincoln-esque figure who was standing behind her with his redheaded teen-aged daughter, Patty. The attractive, lanky girl eyed Mara with intense curiosity.

He pushed Patty forward. "Oh this is my daughter, Patty, Patty O'Hare and Ralph's my name. Chemistry department. Patty wanted so much to meet you. She'll be in one of your classes I understand." He moved aside to make room for Mildred Trent, the elderly principal of the high school. Mara was suddenly aware of numerous faces turned curiously in her direction. Partly, she realized, it was because she was a newcomer. But the short shorts she wore and the tight halter that framed her full breasts also had a lot to do with it. She had seen people, both men and women, stare at her with awe when she appeared in shorts or a swimsuit. It was the combination of her curves, the high cheekbones, the almond eyes and the tawny color of her skin. It tantalized the people when they first saw her.

But what troubled her most now was the unabashed hunger, even lust in the eyes of many of the men. Tom Leonard, Joe Mills and several others could not keep their eyes off her figure. Whenever she moved, their eyes moved as if they were following a tennis match. And curiously too, even the teen-ager Patty O'Hare seemed fascinated. Her eyes kept staring at her as if she were a vision. But it was Mills that bothered her most. The paunchy English teacher kept wetting his lips as his eyes remained fixed on her breasts and her long, smooth skinned thighs.

The idiot, she thought irritably. He should try to control himself. He acts as if he'd like to go down on me in front of everyone here, right here. She had the nervous, twitchy feeling that another drink would make him do something stupid like reach for her breasts.

Ruth, annoyed by the men's reactions, took her quickly to the end of the row of tables and fixed her another drink.

"The bastard Mills is too much," she rasped. "If you look at his bathing suit, you can see he's got a hard-on as big as a whale. Keep away from him. He's got rape in his eyes. "

Mara nodded quickly. The way they were all looking at her made her feel queasy, even the teen-aged girl, Patty O'Hare. The tall, thin stripling came close to her and continued to stare at her as if she were a visitor from Mars. As she drank her drink, Mara tried to be friendly with her."

"I understand you'll be in one of my classes, Patty, she began. The girl's reaction startled her. She flushed a deep red and then nodded quickly.

"What's your main interest in English, writing, poetry, the novel?" Mara went on. The girl's fixed stare was beginning to unnerve her.

"Aren't you going to say anything to me, Patty?" Mara said smiling.

The girl shook her head, then suddenly blurted out: "You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen."

Now it was Mara's turn to blush. It was not a compliment she expected from Patty. From any student.

"Thank you, Patty," she said uncertainly. "I think you're very pretty, too. Quite lovely. I'll bet the boys at school try to monopolize your phone. Bet you have a lot of dates."

"Don't," Patty snapped. "I hate boys." She swooped down on Mara's bare arm and sniffed it hungrily. "You're not only beautiful, you smell divinely!' The girl paused, "You smell good enough to eat."

Mara stared at the girl. She was deeply embarrassed. Was the girl a lesbian? Was that why she talked like that? Was that why she had sniffed at her skin. She shook her head. It was too incredible. She was simply imagining things. American teenagers often acted impulsively. And yet what about that look in her eyes as her face focused on her breasts and legs? The gaze was so strong it was like a hot breath. Mara had a sixth sense of these things. She could sense a lesbian's interest in her without even touch, sometimes even a word that indicated deviation from the norm.

There was the teacher in Brussels for instance, the tall, strait-laced creature who dressed as formally as a nun. Her history class was conducted with military discipline. Everyone had to address her by her title. And yet she had convinced Mara she was gay by her intense looks, her expressions. One night she had invited several of her best pupils to her home near la Grand Place and given them some excellent food and wine. Mara had suddenly become quite drowsy, the others had not. So she had accepted her teacher's offer that she sleep over. She had accepted with a feeling of uneasiness. Those strange, intense looks at her when she crossed her legs, when she wore thin, tight sweaters emphasizing her firm breasts bothered Mara very much.

Still she had gone to bed. Suddenly in the middle of the night, she felt something warm touching her vulva. At first she thought it a dream. Then it became stronger. Was it some vision of Wendy sucking her vagina in Burma, she wondered. Then a low moan awakened her. It was her teacher, the proud, haughty history instructor, aflame with desire, her tongue flicking madly at Mara's pubic area, her lips laving her inner thighs. Mara stared, transfixed as the older woman took her entire labia in her mouth and began to savor it between her lips. Mara had felt deeply disturbed not just at the sex act but because she felt so dirty down there. The teacher was sniffing at the pungent odor that came from Mara's vagina.

"But Madame Prodesseur!" Mara had cried, ashamed because she had not showered. It did not matter. The academic lesbian had devoured her pussy and then still unsatisfied, had lifted her own nightgown and masturbated. She was obviously drunk and out of her mind with sexual desire… It had all been there in her eyes before Mara realized as she watched incredulously. The teacher had attacked her sexually with her eyes and now had lost control. Mara tried to shake off her drowsiness.

"You put something in that wine," Mara had said.

"Yes, my darling Mara," the teacher had said. "I had to make love to you. I had to. You must have known."

When Mara shook her head vigorously and told her she refused to make love, the woman had stunned her. Drunk, full of a lust she could not control, she had dug her lips and nose into Mara's vagina and then, spreading open her own legs had plunged her thick forefinger into the labia of her own genitals. Mara watched unbelievingly as the woman's finger moved in and out of the pink pussy lips with their large overhang of flesh. The woman kept sucking and kissing Mara, then masturbating until she came.

Mara suffered through the assault helplessly but she swore that the next time she saw desire like that in a woman's eyes, she would flee if she possibly could. She had seen it in Wendy's eyes and in Ruth's eyes, but in each case, she was caught like a fly in amber, unable to escape, unable to leave the place with Ruth especially she had needed the job and her surrender, though frightening at first, had delighted her. But here again she was seeing it in Patty O'Hare. The teen-aged girl was a lesbian. She was as convinced of it as she had been with the teacher in Europe.

Noticing Mara's strained face, Ruth pulled her aside.

"Are you all right dear? You look very upset"

Mara brightened as much as she could under her strain.

"Just a little nervous, I think. All these new people. I'm never sure quite what to say. I'm terrible at small talk with strangers!"

"Don't sweat it dear," Ruth said. "You've done your part by coming and saying hello. And after a few more drinks, you'll loosen up. And so will they."

Mara smiled gratefully as Ruth Peter refilled her glass. She could not help notice that the drinks had already brought a deep red flush to Ruth's cheeks.

"Better slow down Ruth," Mara warned.

"Listen darling I'll let you in on a secret. I loathe these get togethers as much as you. And several drinks pull me through, especially when some of the men play sex games or what is known in locker rooms as 'grab ass.'" She sighed. "It's a damned dilemma. I don't want to get loaded. J[f I get any more tickets from traffic cops, my insurance will go flying upwards. But as a departmental chairman I've got to stick around another three hours at least. God I wish I could go somewhere and hide till it's over." Her face brightened suddenly. "Hey that's a capital idea. Let's go hide."

"Where?"

"In the woods, silly." Ruth's eyes blurred as she continued in a low tone and she staggered slightly. Her voice took on a slight but definite slur. "Look honey. Pick up a blanket and follow me at a distance. Don't arouse suspicions, you know. We'll have our own little love fest… " She grabbed a bottle, tucked it under her arm and started off. "Literary love fest… call it, Desire Under the Palms. "

Mara looked nonplussed as Ruth wandered off into the thick copse of trees and bushes nearby.

"Care for another drink or a sandwich?" a male voice asked behind her. She turned to look at Tom Leonard. The young history instructor, his camera strapped around his long neck, stared at her with the kind of built-in leer she remembered seeing on the face of Clark Gable in old TV films. "I'll bet you can drive a guy out of his mind with that gorgeous body of yours. You've got fantastic curves, Mara. Fantastic."

As Mara looked startled, not sure how to respond, he raised his hands. "Just speaking as an amateur sculptor… I do some statues now and then. How about coming and modeling for me some Saturday afternoon? Then we can have some dinner. I'm a great chef and I have a lovely place up in the hills that overlooks the whole city. We could sit and look at the scene-it's terrific and maybe have a nice long chat over some good brandy. Okay?"

His eyes stared hungrily at her breasts and the supple curves of her hips. You horny bastard, she thought. I'd be raped the minute I entered the door. She could see a thick, powerful looking bulge in the crotch of his swim trunks as he talked.

"Perhaps one day," she said smiling, not wanting any enemies in the school. "Right now I'm going to change. I'd like a blanket." She leaned over the pile of blankets a few yards away. As she bent down, she could feel his strong penis, hard and demanding, thrust against her thin shorts. The feel of an extended penis in her backside was so astounding that for a terrible moment she thought she was being sexually attacked. She fell down on the pile of blankets. On top of her, his cock still thrust at her, was Tom Leonard. They struggled together on the unstable hill of wool.

"Oh damn… I'm sorry, Mara. I was trying to get you a blanket," he apologized. "Let me get up. It's easier."

Somehow he had trouble getting over her. As he tried to move away from her on the pile of slippery blankets, he seemed trapped in his efforts to pull himself free of her body. As the onlookers laughed aloud, his crotch remained glued to her fanny.

"Sorry… damn, this is hard," he apologized.

He kept trying to get off her but his cock moved against her backside for another moment until finally she yelled at him. Deliberately or not, his own movements ran counter to hers.

"Just lie still and let me get away from you," she cried.

"Sorry I'm so clumsy," he said as he pressed once more against her as the blankets, loosened from the hill by their struggles, fell over their faces.

She knew he was lying and she wanted to strike him with her fists as she felt him ramming his cock against her. When he finally stood up a moment later, she saw that his swim suit was wet by his crotch. The bastard had come against her backside! He looked at her with bland innocence that combined a good-natured smile and somehow the rueful expression of a small boy who has made a boo boo. She looked at him with undisguised anger and hoped the others would see that he attacked her buttocks like a stupid, oversexed schoolboy. The white splotch of semen spreading over his crotch-piece would tell them all the kind of vulgar beast he was.

But her look at his lower parts had alerted him too. Pivoting quickly, he ran toward the lake and leaped in. Mara, ignoring the leers on the other men nearby and the peculiar looks on the women's faces, seized a blanket and moved hurriedly toward the woods. She was sorry she had come. She should have pleaded a cold or some backache and simply visited with them in the faculty lounge. She would not have been subjected to the ordeal of a grown man, a scholar, pumping his stiff penis into the deft of her buttocks like a dog in heat.

As she moved further away, she heard laughter and realized with horror that Tom must have stained her light blue shorts with his wretched semen as well. She would have to get it off somehow after she reached Ruth. She could not go back with that telltale stain on her backside. It would simply be hideous to face them that way.

She caught up with Ruth a couple of hundred yards further. Ruth had picked a lovely circle of grass surrounded by thick bushes. She had obviously taken more liquor and greeted her with of whoop of welcome.

"Welcome to my pastoral paradise, my own private garden of Eden, darling," she said in a blurry voice. "And now take off those shorty shorts and let me see your little private garden of Eden."

"Not so loud," Mara begged, listening to Ruth's voice. "They, can hear you."

"Too far. Anyway who the hell cares," Ruth said, laughing. "Here, have a drink. I'm a-way ahead of you, baby."

"No I don't think… " Then a thought occurred to her. The alcohol might remove Leonard's semen. Stripping her shorts off quickly, she wet a corner of the blanket with the bottle and rubbed it vigorously against the stain on the back of the garment.

"What the hell you doing?" Ruth asked astonished, "Honey that's a sheer waste of good liquor."

Mara debated whether to tell Ruth about Tom Leonard's attack on her but decided against it. It would only anger her and she might be caught in the middle in a fight between them. She did not want to make waves. Above all no waves, no scenes, no damned departmental hearings or court martials or whatever they call the bloody things.

"Wow," Ruth said as she stared hungrily at Mara's naked crotch. "Love your little garden sweetie… come over here and let Ruth eat a little of that nectar. I'm getting horny as hell just looking at it."

Mara moved over and let Ruth's tongue lap at her pussy. The movements of Ruth's expert tongue against her clitoris began to excite her terribly. But she remained apprehensive.

"Is it safe to do this in the open, Ruth?" she asked,

"Hell yes… they're all drunk as goats there or flopping around the water. They don't move into the woods till it gets dark. Then they try to play grab ass in the bushes. Put your bush over my face darling, I love the sweet smell of your cunt."

Mara felt a frisson of exquisite pleasure as Ruth's fingers teased the nipples of her firm breasts while Ruth's mouth continued to make her pussy tingle. It was a combination of sexual delights that shut every other thought from her mind. The outside world did not exist for either of them as they threw themselves into their sexual encounter with a frenzied haste.

But the outside world did exist and would soon make its impact felt. As the two women embraced hungrily on their seemingly isolated plot of grass, three persons were creeping up to watch them.