"The innocence of children" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strong Rod)

CHAPTER THREE

Shirley felt funny, going home with her mother that night, acting as innocent as she had been prior to her experiences with the two boys. She would have spoken of it to her mother had Emily Lowe not been such a prude. God! Her mother was so uptight about everything. Shirley could never speak with her about anything. But then, with whom could she discuss something like this? Surely not with another girl her own age. It had to be an adult, but one with a certain amount of understanding.

As it was, Shirley began feeling guilty about what she had done with the boys. Her mother and her preacher had drummed self-deprivation into her for so long, she had actually started believing in it. Now, after what she had done with Harold and Billy, she felt unclean. And yet… if she had it to do all over again, she knew she would do it.

Whom could she speak to?

The thought bothered her all the next day, through school. Harold was in her class, and he was all but leering at her during the entire day. When he came near her at lunch time, she had to all but kick him, snapping at him for acting like a dummy. The boy apologized to Shirley, but didn't stop leering the rest of the day.

It was her teacher, Miss Wagner, who took her aside after school and asked her what was troubling her.

"It's kind of a long story, Miss Wagner," Shirley replied to the dark-eyed, slender brunette woman. "Besides, I think it's something I shouldn't talk about."

"Well why not come home with me and tell me," Clare Wagner said to her. "I'll call your mother and tell her you're with me, and that I'll drive you home. Okay?"

"Well, gee, I guess so."

So, after Clare Wagner had called Shirley's mother, Shirley went to her teacher's home. Shirley was surprised by the size of the house. It was a ranch house, but sprawling, and had a lot of ground around it, with high bushes to protect anyone inside from onlookers. Inside, the living room was spacious, with an all-glass wall looking out over what seemed a backyard. The blue carpeting was deep, and there were all kinds of heavy sofas and chairs scattered throughout the room. The walls had robin's eggblue Sanitas.

"Come and talk with me while I undress in the bedroom," Clare Wagner said to Shirley. "Now, tell me, just what has been bothering you?"

The bedroom had a large canopied double bed against the wall opposite the doorway. It, too, was done in robin's egg-blue, with blond furniture. There was a vanity, an armoire, and a dresser, and a door to the right led into a gigantic bathroom with a pool-sized tub.

Shirley hesitated, sitting on the stool in front of the vanity, watching Clare Wagner undress. The wispy sound of her zipper was followed by the slender, well-built brunette stepping out of her dress. The woman wore a black garter belt and red bikini panties. A half-bra did almost nothing to hide the swelling of her full breasts. Shirley watched as her teacher unfastened the bra, and the ripe, ivory spheres sprang free.

Clara Wagner had large aureoles. They looked like brown silver dollars, and in the center of each, a flat button of brown was clearly visible. Two dark brown temples on the slopes of snow-white hills, erected to the memory of some erotic God.

Shirley was astounded at the woman's shape. The young girl thought all grown-up women were like her mother under their clothes, with heavy pendant breasts that hung almost to their waists, and large, cellulite-filled hips and thighs.

"Hey, why don't we take a bath together," Clare Wagner suggested. "That might be just the thing to bring you out of your shell so you'll talk. Come on," she said, sitting on the bed, removing her garter belt, rolling down her stockings and pulling them off, as well.

Shirley remained where she was, admiring the fullness of Clare's figure. She loved the firm roundness of her teacher's breasts. They seemed to balance perfectly against one another. Shirley loved the feminine sloping shoulders, and the pinched narrow waistline, so much like her own waistline. The girl hoped her figure would be like that of her teacher, and not like her mother's.

When Clare Wagner removed her bikini panties, Shirley saw the woman had a shaved pubis, making it look as bare as her own. The pouting mount of venus looked like a delicate, split, coral rose, and Shirley assumed her own vaginal cavity had appeared that way to the two boys. But the thighs, legs, calves and ankles of her teacher were perfect, and Shirley's eyes showed how much she appreciated them.

"Now Shirley, before I go a step further, I want to know what's bothering you," Miss Wagner said to her.

Haltingly, without mentioning names, Shirley told her teacher of her experiences the previous day.

"I think that's wonderful," Miss Wagner said, smiling. "You learned a little about the relationship between males and females on your own, without having your views distorted by someone else."

"You mean what I did was okay?" Shirley asked.

"That depends on what you mean, by 'okay'," her teacher replied. "From your mother's point of view, and from the point of view of your church, it's not okay. But as long as you don't tell them, they'll never know. And what they don't know, won't hurt you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"And you're saying it isn't really bad?" Shirley asked.

"Did you feel bad after it was all over?" Miss Wagner asked.

"Gee, no. I felt very good."

"Well, can anything that feels so good, be so bad? But, there are a few things you should know about what is called sexual intercourse." And in the next five minutes, Clare Wagner carefully explained how babies were made, and why it would be unwise for Shirley to let a man poke his penis into her until she knew about the art of douching. After all, the young girl didn't want to become a mother, just yet.

Shirley was dumbfounded, and now better understood the urge she'd felt to have a penis poked into her. She was glad it hadn't happened. Miss Wagner was a terrific person. The girl was glad she had spoken with the teacher.

"Now, since you enjoy lovemaking so much, I'm going to teach you a bit more about it," Clare Wagner told her. "So get undressed while I run the water in the orgy pool."

"The orgy pool?" Shirley asked. "Oh, you mean your sunken bathtub."

"Yes," Clare Wagner nodded, smiling. "I call it an orgy pool because a half dozen people call easily wade through it without bumping into one another."

The teacher proudly walked across the room, into the bathroom. Quickly, Shirley removed her own red blouse and tan skirt. She paused for a moment before removing her undershirt, then shrugged. So what if she didn't have breasts, yet. She was only eleven-years-old. There was no need to rush things. Even so, when the cool air in the room blew across her nipples, she flushed a little, feeling them stand up. Looking down at her nipples, she felt they did look a little larger than when the boys had played with them yesterday. It was as if stimulation was making them grow. Noticing her panties were still on, Shirley decided she could be as naked as her teacher, and slipped them off. Turning, the young girl admired herself in a full length mirror on the wall near the dressing table. Gee! For a young girl she really had a nice figure.

A feeling made her turn, and she saw Clare Wagner standing in the bathroom doorway, looking her over. Clare's eyes were locked on Shirley's bare pussy, wandering over her soft belly, and even looking at her tiny nipples, standing out as if reaching for the love Clare had promised.

"I can understand why the boys wanted to play with you," Clare whispered in a hoarse voice. "You're a lovely little girl." Shirley blushed, too embarrassed to reply.

"I think," Clare continued, "I'd better get you a glass of soda to claim you down. Lord, if you were older I'd offer you something alcoholic, but corrupting you sexually should be quite enough for me. I can't introduce you to booze, too."

"How are you going to corrupt me?" Shirley asked.

"Oh I'm not really going to corrupt you," the teacher said, "but I am going to teach you. And what I teach you has to remain between you and me. I mean, if you can use what I teach you with another person, fine. But you must never mention my name."

"Of course not, Miss Wagner," Shirley solemnly nodded.

Clare Wagner left the bedroom for a few moments, and when she returned, she had a glass of cola in her hand. She handed it to Shirley, saying, "Drink up and enjoy."

Shirley took the glass and did as she was ordered. Her mind was somewhat perplexed. The expression of Miss Wagner's face reminded her of the looks she had seen on the faces of Harold and Billy. But that was silly. After the explanations Miss Wagner had given her, Shirley was sure the teacher couldn't be interested in her the same way as a man. Could she?

Shirley felt disturbed. Strange, different thoughts roamed the hidden recesses of her young mind. She felt a warmth oozing through her, and realized it was there, in part, because of the way Miss Wagner had looked at her.

"I think I could use a hard drink, myself," Clare Wagner said. And turning, she headed for the living room.

Still totally naked, Shirley followed the older woman. She found herself gazing at Clare's swiveling buttocks and wondered if her own bum cheeks moved the same way. She could also see the faintest pink from the rear of the woman's vagina, and wondered if Miss Wagner had ever been kissed there, as she had been kissed. Remembering how Harold had licked her pussy, Shirley felt an aching inside her. She wanted to be kissed there, again.

Flustered, the young girl tried to shut off her thoughts, hoping they weren't written on her face. She watched the older woman go behind the bar, to a small refrigerator from which she took a tray of ice cubes. With the refrigerator door open, a light was illuminating her teacher's body, and it looked all the more heavenly to Shirley. When the teacher bent over, Shirley could see the woman's breasts dangling, like ripe fruit, and for some strange reason, she felt her mouth watering.

From where she was standing, off to the side, Shirley could see her teacher's legs, and, illuminated as they were by the light from the small refrigerator, they looked more solid than ever. Even the soft, fleshy folds of her teacher's hot cunt seemed highlighted.

Looking through the glass wall toward the rear of the house, Shirley realized she wasn't staring into a backyard. There was a pool area, with a large swimming pool, all enclosed by glass.

"That's a heated pool," Clare Wagner told her. "If you'd like to take a dip, go ahead."

"Gee, I'd love it," Shirley told her, putting her soda glass down on the bar.

Walking across the room, she found part of the glass wall was a sliding door, and now she slid it open. Her feet felt the coldness of the tiles, but she could also feel the heat rising from the pool. And at the far end of the pool, sitting austerely, was a statue of the Greek God, Priapos. The statue was of a man with goat's horns and goat's legs. He was squatting, and rising from his groin was a two foot marble penis spouting water.

Diving into the pool, Shirley felt a shockwave beside her and saw Clare Wagner had dived into the pool, too. A moment later she surfaced, and Clare surfaced alongside her.

"Like this?" Clare asked.

"This is terrific," Shirley said to her. "But I had no idea teachers made the kind of money to let them afford a place like this."

"We don't," Clare replied. "I'm listed as a tenant here, but the truth of the matter is, I have a friend, a rich friend. He owns the place and I live here, rent-free. We have a kind of arrangement."

Clare turned on her back and began floating away from Shirley, and the young girl watched, unable to take her eyes from the breathtaking, forbidden sight five feet from her. Clare's thighs were opening and closing with the movement of the water, revealing the entire vaginal area. Shirley could even see the extended clitoris, and remembered how she ached to have Harold lick that one little spot on her. Heat burned through her even more rapidly. The vaginal lips seemed to open and close, too. In fact, Miss Wagner's bare pussy reminded her of the mouth of a guppy, constantly opening and closing. It was as if the vagina were waiting to devour her.

"Oh gosh!" Shirley gasped. "What wrong with me? Looking at you this way, I feel all heated up, just as I did with the two boys, last night. There must be something wrong with me, wanting to touch you as I touched the boys."

Although her mind rejected the thought, it kept coming back to Shirley. Gosh! It was ridiculous, but she had the urge to jump at Miss Wagner and plant her mouth against the woman's vaginal lips, much the same way Harold had sucked on her own vagina. More, she wanted to squeeze Miss Wagner's breasts and pop the woman's nipples into her mouth. She wanted to feel Miss Wagner's body the way the two boys had felt hers, only she had a big advantage. Miss Wagner had a large pair of tits and she would be able to rub and massage them.

Was it possible for her to be aroused by a woman as much as by a man? Shirley wondered.

She continued to stare as Clare Wagner climbed out of the pool and stood near an electric wall heater to dry off. When Shirley climbed out of the water, she felt more aroused than ever.

"The bathtub should be full by now," Clare said to her. "Why not go and soak in the hot water."

Shirley was glad for an excuse to break away from the woman. She was afraid Miss Wagner might look down on her for the thoughts she was thinking.

The bathroom was hot and humid, now, with steam rising from the bathtub. But it was even more sensually enjoyable because of the exotic odors of various bath oils Clare Wagner had added to the tub.

There were three steps leading down into the bathtub, and Shirley eased her naked figure down and into the soapy water. The water was wonderfully hot, and Shirley was just getting used to it when Clare came in with two glasses. The one she gave Shirley was cola, again. She sat at the edge of the tub and leaned over to hand Shirley her glass. Her breasts dangled like white orbs, ripe and ready to be plucked from the tree of her body, and Shirley felt like reaching up and grabbing her teacher's nipples.

After Shirley had taken her drink, Clare swung her legs over the side of the tub and let them dangle in the water, her thighs wide apart. Her vaginal lips were partially parted, and Shirley could not help seeing them. They looked like valleys within canyons.

"Thanks for the drink," Shirley said, downing half her glass with a single swallow.

"Can I do less for my favorite pupil?" Clare asked, smiling.

The woman sipped her own drink, then left it on the edge of the bathtub as she slid in. The teacher stretched out rapturously, sighing as she said, "Ooooh, but after all that school the hot water feels wonderful."

"Tell me," Shirley asked, "how did you ever get to meet the man who owns this house, anyway?"

"It was at a party, during the summer," Clare told her. "I had no idea he had money, at the time. We just seemed to hit it off. And then we found ourselves blending together sexually. We liked to be a little kinky! Not much, just a little. And then he offered to let me live here. He travels a lot, but whenever he comes back here, he stays here with me."

"What do you mean by kinky?" Shirley asked.

"Well, what you did with the boys, yesterday, is considered kinky. It isn't exactly unnatural, but it isn't the so-called normal way one goes about fucking."

Shirley began to blush. She had heard the word before, and though she'd had no idea what it meant, she had always thought of it as a bad word.

"When we are together, with no one else around, do not become flustered by words," Clare told Shirley. "Words are words and nothing more. When we're outside, amongst people, then we have to be careful of what we say. But words mean nothing more than to aptly describe deeds. Fucking is a perfectly good word. I explained to you exactly what it means. What you and the boys did was a variation on it. It's known as genital/oral fucking. As you explained, one of the boys fucked you with his tongue, and then you let each of them fuck your mouth with his cock. Each time someone comes, that person has indulged in one form of fucking or other. Even masturbation is a form of fucking, where the boy fucks his fist. It's as simple as that."

"I understand," Shirley nodded, feeling more and more secure with her teacher, thinking of her as a friend rather than merely a teacher.

"Did you enjoy doing all those things with the boys, or have you just been saying that, while harboring a guilt complex?" Clare wanted to know.

Shirley felt her face go beet-red. She hesitated, trying to hide her confusion. She wondered what her teacher would think of her if she came right out and openly admitted just how much she had really enjoyed it.

Clare, looking at the way the girl flushed, smiled, and said, "I'm sorry, Shirley. I know it's something very personal. I have no right to interfere and ask silly questions like that."

"Gee, if I can't talk about it with you, who can I talk to?" Shirley asked. "I guess I just kind of blush easily. I'm sorry. Actually, to be honest, I liked it a lot. Really!"

Clare smiled at her, as if Shirley had just passed an oral exam. Reaching out, the teacher grabbed her glass and took another sip of the vodka collins she had made for herself. Then she lay back in the tub, sighing, relaxing.

"I like doing things like that a lot," Clare said to Shirley. "If I had my way, sex would be something discussed in the classroom, right out in the open. People would have a lot less hangups, and almost no one would be frustrated. But we live in a world where all important things have to be hushed up."

"Gee, I really don't know too much about anything," Shirley admitted.

"Well," Clare smiled back at her. "The great artists thought enough of sex to paint and sculpt it."

"Gosh, no kidding."

"And," Clare continued, "if sex is dirty, then the Bible has to be the dirtiest book of all time."

"How come?" Shirley asked.

"There are so many places, briefly mentioned, where one woman or another is 'laying' with a man. Even the greatest heroes and heroines of the Bible were sex-fiends, despite Moses passing certain laws which prohibited certain things."

"Well, who?" Shirley wanted to know.

"When Joshua had his men looking through Jericho, they were sheltered in the house of Rahab the Harlot. Do you know what a harlot is?"

"No," Shirley admitted. "I don't."

"A harlot, or a whore, or a prostitute is a woman who is paid money by men to let them fuck her one way or another."

"No kidding," Shirley said, her eyes wide with wonder.

"And what do you think those men were doing in Rahab's house when they weren't hiding under the flax on the roof? Not only that, but look at Deborah, the great female judge. She was married to some guy named Lapidus, but she went out and found a man by the name of Barak to head the Israelite army. And Barak told her outright, if you don't come with me, I won't do it. So Deborah went with him. And you can bet your pretty little pussy he made good use of hers."

"Gosh!" Shirley said, wide-eyed.

"There are hundreds of additional references to sex," Clare pointed out, "but I don't think I have to go into any further detail. Sex is here to stay, Shirley."

The water was starting to cool, so Shirley climbed the steps and walked out of the tub. Water dripped from her bare vagina, pouring down, then dribbling down, and finally falling in light droplets.

"Getting out?" Clare asked.

"I don't want to wrinkle up like a prune," Shirley told her.

Taking one of the fluffy towels Clare had laid out on a nearby bench, Shirley began rubbing herself all over. When her hands rubbed the towel on her nipples, she felt herself becoming aroused again. Boy, she was really learning things today.

She watched her teacher yawn and sit upright in the tub. Clare's breasts came rising out of the water as if they were mysterious islands hobbling up from a hidden sea.

The teacher began climbing out of the tub, and she suddenly winced.

"Is anything wrong?" Shirley asked, putting down her own towel after having finished drying herself.

"I think I'm getting a cold in my neck and shoulder," Clare replied. "Must have gotten into a draft in school."

"Can I do anything to help?" Shirley asked.

"Know how to give a rubdown?" Clare asked.

Water flowed down the teacher's body, running between her breasts, down along her belly, disappearing into the valley of her naked vaginal slit. From there, it dripped to the tiled floor. The teacher grabbed a towel and began rubbing herself dry as Shirley said, "I don't know too much about massaging, but I could give it a try."

At the far end of the bathroom was a long massage table. Clare smiled at the girl and said, "You're very nice, Shirley. I would very much like a massage."

Spreading her towel on the table, Clare lay on it, face-down.

"Okay," Shirley said, approaching her. "Now if I hurt you or anything, you just let me know."

"Oh I'll let you know, all right," Clare told her.

The teacher swiveled her head from side to side a couple of times, then pointed with her left hand to her right shoulder, saying, "It's in there, somewhere."

"Should I use some kind of oil?" Shirley asked.

"Not necessary," Clare told her. "Just knead with your fingers."

With the first touch of her hands on her teacher's body, Shirley felt the fiery demon of lust coming to life inside her again. And she could see a blush running through Clare's body, and the young girl realized her teacher was feeling something, too. She could feel the woman's body tense. It was an electric moment between the two females.

"Ummmm!" Clare announced, "that feels good. Keep on doing it."

"Okay," Shirley nodded, her drying hair hanging about her face as she squeezed and pressed her fingers into her teacher's shoulder.

The girl began rubbing more vigorously, digging the heels of her hands all the deeper into her teacher's shoulder. She was massaging strongly now, feeling the deep muscles under Clare's shoulder blades. Her fingers were kneading faster and faster, but she stopped massaging when Clare yelped as she touched the tender shoulder area again.

And then Shirley suddenly realized her teacher's body was writhing, wriggling, moving as if she were a purring cat. Shirley could feel the woman's body actually vibrating as if it had been plugged into something. And Shirley felt herself reacting all the more strongly. She was panting now, but not from exertion. The girl had no desire to be so rough with her teacher's flesh. On the contrary, she felt an urge to kiss and caress the soft nakedness.

Knowing Miss Wagner was not observing her, Shirley started rubbing her own belly against the edge of the table as her fingers continued working on her teacher's back. She could feel the edge rubbing even lower, touching her clitoris, and it felt good, really good. Dampness was oozing from between her thighs, and it had nothing to do with bath water.

Shirley's hands worked lower and lower, massaging Clare Wagner's ribcage, but when she reached the teacher's waist, the young girl stopped.

"Ymmm!" Clare moaned. "Just when it was really getting good. Do you mind doing this, Shirley?"

"Oh no, Miss Wagner."

"Shirley, when we're alone, and only when we're alone, I want you to call me Clare. Would you please continue?"

Shirley blinked and looked at the woman. Did she actually expect her to touch the lower loins? Gee! Shirley knew if she touched her teacher down there, she might also touch between the thighs. There would be no stopping her after that.

"Gee, do you mean… everything?" Shirley asked, rubbing the woman's left buttock.

"Everything," Clare nodded.

Shirley returned her hands to her teacher's waist and began kneading toward the spine, as little by little, her fingers worked lower and lower. A droplet of perspiration, formed at the base of the woman's spine, and Shirley tried stopping it with her fingers. Her digits slipped into her teacher's tight anal crevice, and she suddenly realized she was touching her teacher's puckered anal entryway. The woman gasped and jumped a bit from the contact, but otherwise said nothing. In fact, the woman seemed to be lifting her buttocks as if pushing her ass hole back against the girl's working fingers.

Feeling slightly ashamed of herself, realizing she had let her fingers linger too long against the anal rictus, Shirley quickly withdrew her fingers. She slowly began kneading the soft cushions of her teacher's ass, but her fingers had a numbness to them. She felt her heart beating rapidly, and she could hear herself starting to pant.

And then Clare's thighs parted as the woman pressed her knees into the table and purposely rammed her ass cheeks against Shirley's working fingers. With a sudden knowledge that scared her, Shirley understood her teacher was attempting to soothe a burning need in her own body as she rubbed her clitoral button against the towel beneath her.

"Higher," Shirley said, not knowing why she said it. "Lift your behind higher. This way I can do your both legs."

Clare did exactly as Shirley instructed, and the girl began massaging her teacher's left leg with both hands, rubbing her palms up and down the length of it, massaging it from the knee up to where the thigh was connected to Clare's body. Looking at the way her massaging hands were running up and down the length of Clare's thigh, Shirley imagined she was stroking some immense penis, and it made her all the hotter. The idea seemed to excite her beyond all self-control. Her hands moved higher and higher, one of them riding along Clare's soft, inner thigh until she felt the tips of her fingers actually make contact with her teacher's vaginal labius. She could feel the hot, wet, naked cuntlip open, and then her finger was actually pressing into the heated, gooey opening.

"Unnhh… annhhh…" Clare moaned, then clenched her thighs together to prevent any deeper penetration. Shirley could feel the heavy, pulsating-throbbing passing through her fingers and she squeezed. That was when Clare opened her thighs, releasing Shirley's hand.

Both females were panting heavily, much as if they had exercised all this time. Shirley was only mildly aware of the liquid she had seeping down her own inner thighs. She was on fire, and more than she had been, yesterday. Lord! Blisters seemed to be burning inside her. She needed some kind of relief, and at this point she no longer cared how she got it. Even if she had to run back to the swimming pool and impale herself on that two foot pole coming from between the statue's thighs.

Clare's body moved, snapping Shirley out of her reverie. She wriggled onto her side, then fell onto her back. The woman's eyes were hot and heavy with desire, looking up at Shirley.

"Now…" Clare told her, "… do the front of me." And she lifted her breasts up as if offering them to the pre-teen girl.

Shirley looked, but not at the offered breasts. Her eyes were locked on the wet, delicious pink cunt between Clare's thighs. With a loud groan the young girl suddenly fell forward over one thigh and buried her mouth in the smooth, coral, open cleft, instantly biting and sucking as if she had been starved for a week. Her tongue reached all the way into the sopping well, trying to detach itself from the girl's mouth in the hope of delving deeper on its own and reaching the woman's cervix.

As she tasted the fuming center, Shirley realized why Harold had been so turned on. It was as tasty as either of the two penises she had sucked, only it was totally different. This was wet, pink meat, and she couldn't cram it into her mouth. Her mouth had to reach for it, as her tongue licked in again and again. She whimpered, almost biting Clare's cuntlips as her tongue sank ever deeper into the flaming pit of Clare's womanhood.

"Unnnhhh… gently, gently," Clare admonished, and reached out with her own hand and began caressing Shirley's buttocks. This only made the younger girl move her behind closer to her teacher's hand, and as she parted her own thighs, she could feel Clare's fingers rubbing her own bare, vaginal lips.

Clare could feel the young girl's clitoris reach out for her stroking fingers. The interior felt like a starved, desolated mouth. Clare's fingers stroked once, twice, before Shirley pulled her face from the older woman's muff, her cheeks glistening with Clare's secretions. She hoarsely gasped, "Unnhhh… yes… ooooh… ahhhh… yes… yes… don't stop, don't stop… AAARRRGGGHHH… HHHAAANNNHHH… EEEEYYYYAAAAGGGGHHHH!"

And the fiery liquid of vaginal seepage burst like sweet, scalding lava all over Clare's hand. This made Shirley thrust her hand between Clare's thighs, more to hold onto something than anything else, but her thumb was massaging Clare's clitoris, and moments later, Clare screamed, "OHHHHH GODDDDD… YESSSSSS!!!"

Shirley, totally lost in the pleasure of her own fulfillment, was completely deaf to the woman's wild, maddening cry. She gasped and shuddered, wondering why this touching of her vagina by another female could bring her on as strongly as Harold's tongue.

Shirley lost all sense of time as she slumped across Clare's body. The two lay that way for minutes, and then Clare heard a sob.

"Shirley, are you all right?" Clare asked.

"Oh golly, I feel so ashamed," Shirley blurted out.

"Of what?" Clare asked, raising the girl's head, then sitting up and swinging her feet off so Shirley could sit beside her on the massage table.

"That I should resort to doing something like this to you, and making you touch me, too," Shirley sobbed. "Gee, I'm the one corrupting you. I feel worse than ever."

"I think you and I have to have a talk," Clare said, leading her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. The young girl stood there docilely, as Clare pulled the covers off and threw them on her vanity bench.

"Climb in," Clare insisted.

Shirley did as she was ordered. The thrilling sensation of satin sheets against her naked stomach and buttocks did nothing to ease the shame she was feeling. She stared up at the filigreed ceiling.

"Honey," Clare said to her, "you're a mere eleven-years-old. You're still a virgin… untouched inside by a penis. Now you're going to have to learn you can come with a man, and you can come with a woman. Just because you're a female is no reason for you to think you're impervious to other females. You're young, and I'll tell you something else. You're very, very lucky."

"What do you mean?" Shirley asked.

"There are women who go through their entire lives and never once feel what you've felt."

"Oh, you mean nuns?"

"No, I mean married women who are fucked regularly. They never achieve orgasm. 'Why' is something we won't go into right now, but the fact is, you not only come, but come quickly."

"But why should I come with you, or feel that way with you?"

"Why not? You like me as a person, don't you?"

"Well sure, but should two women do things like a man and a woman mean, you told me a lot about men and women, but nothing about women and women."

"Well then," Clare told her, "it's time for the next step in your education."