Gloria Starr: Graduate course in sex

For the first three days things went on smoothly. But then something happened that Vera hadn't counted on. She had a wet dream one night and woke up with her hand between her legs. The dark blonde bush of hair between her legs was damp as a sponge. Her pubes were still quaking from the after-effects.

This is ridiculous, she thought to herself, I haven't come off in a dream like that since I was too young to get regular fucking. It's a lot harder doing without it than I thought it would be. Then she turned crimson even though no one was around to see. The details of the dream assailed her and she recalled that naked young girls no older than those in her troop played a very prominent role in it. Their identities had been hazy. But the sensual picture of one youngster lying half naked in her arms was quite memorable. Before Vera was able to rise that morning, she treated herself to a long, slow bout of masturbation that ended in a blessed rush of warm relief for her excited organs. It had been months and months since she'd had the need to accommodate herself with her own hands, but the dream she'd had seemed to make it absolutely vital that she do so.

She showered slowly, ending up with a brace of cold water to further quell any leftover physical desire, then joined the girls. Being from a large city, Troop 73 was made up of girls of every description – tall, short, slim, chubby, quiet, extroverted – and there were even a few young black girls and one Oriental.

It was Lynda, a fifteen-year-old black girl, who presented Vera with her next problem. It should have been quite simple, but in the back of Vera's mind now was the dream she'd had, the dream in which she had actually been sexually involved with one of her teenage charges. Lynda had cut her leg on a sharp rock as she jumped across a small creek and it was Vera's duty, of course, to treat the wound. Although it was not deep, it was bad enough to require a light dressing.

Cold water quickly washed off her shin, but then Vera realized a bit of blood was still coming from underneath Lynda's Campfire Girl's skirt. She knelt on the floor in front of the girl and dabbed at the thin trickle that ran down from somewhere underneath the skirt.

"Can you get to it, Miss Kressler? Need me to raise my skirt some so you can see better?" asked Lynda.

Vera had already noticed that being close to the girl's naked legs was having an effect on her. "Seeing better" up the attractive teenager's lithe black leg was exactly what she didn't need – but she had to attend to the injury. "Uh – yes, Lynda. You better raise the hem of your skirt a bit so I can get to it," she answered finally.

This is strictly in the line of duty, she told herself, as the young girl revealed several inches of her smooth, chocolate-colored thigh. This is a medical necessity and it's my job to handle it. There's… nothing personal about…

Lynda interrupted her thoughts. "Ooooo, that stuff sure does sting a lot," she exclaimed. "Hope it don't hurt like that when you get up higher."

Vera saw that although the shallow laceration was confined to her shin and thigh, bad scratch marks went still higher. She switched an oil-base antiseptic for the alcohol she'd been using and soon Lynda said, "Oh, that's a lot better. Thanks. Here, let me get all the way out of my skirt."

Vera immediately wished the girl hadn't been so ready to reveal what was underneath her clothes but it was too late now. She automatically turned her head away as Lynda stood up from the bed and unbuttoned the waistband. When the garment slid off the girl's slender long legs and left her standing with it in rumpled pile at her shoe tops, Vera had to steel herself. The girl was certainly no child, that was for sure. Her cheap white cotton panties were distended in front by a gracefully contoured hillock. Vera found herself thinking of what a soft, abundant growth of pubic coils must be responsible for the bulge. In addition, Lynda's buttocks jutted prominently outward in the saucy angle that seems exclusive to the Negro race. Her dark green shirt covered her torso, but it was obvious to Vera that the fifteen-year-old already possessed enough honest filling for her brassiere to qualify as an adult.

"I think you'd better lie down, Lynda," began Vera, with a trace of nervousness in her voice. She massaged the antiseptic into the silken skin of Lynda's upper thighs and when she reached the topmost scratches she kept right on going. There was no response from the girl to dissuade her. When her fingers were barely an inch from the crotch of her underpants, Lynda half raised herself and said, "Wow! Did I go and scratch myself all the way up by my snatch?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Lynda clapped a hand over her mouth and began apologizing for using such language. Vera was quick and firm with her answer.

"Don't be embarrassed, I can see you're quite old enough to use words like that. After all, it's not as though you'd said it in front of a boy. I know all about what's underneath your panties, Lynda. Why shouldn't I – I'm a girl too, I have the same equipment you do."

Lynda seemed dumbfounded at the unexpected camaraderie, but she was also delighted by it. "Yeah, if I said something like that in front of a boy, it'd probably get him all hot."

Even as she finished the sentence, Vera was already boldly pressing her fingers all around the crotch of the girl's underwear. She no longer made a pretense of applying antiseptic. She knew very well that the girl was beginning to enjoy her manipulations but didn't want to give evidence of the feeling. She thrust her thumb and forefinger under the skin-tight leg band of the thin panties and at last touched the wonderful muff of springy coils.

"And if a boy got hot around you, I bet he'd just love to do this to you, wouldn't he?" posed Vera.

Lynda raised her head from the bed and her eyes were large. At first Vera was fearful she'd jump up from the bed but she soon saw that her authority and confidence was putting Lynda at ease.

"Ye-yes, ma'am, I… I guess he would love to feel me up some like that," the girl replied. Then she giggled and said she sure hoped what Vera was doing to her was okay. A warm smile from the woman convinced her to relax and enjoy it. Vera was now down on her knees beside the edge of the bed and Lynda's long legs were stretched shamelessly apart right in front of her.

The girl giggled again and said, "Any boy that got to see what you're seeing would want to do more, too. A lot more!"

"Boys aren't the only ones that can make a girl come off, you know," said Vera. Her face was flushed now, and the funny way she was looking at her made Lynda want to be closer still to the blonde woman. "Girls can make other girls come off, too, you know. If the girl has a sweet, fat cunt between her legs like the one you've got there. Swear to me you won't breathe a word of this to any of the other girls and I'll show you what I mean," Vera continued.

"Gosh," wheezed the young girl, as she felt her panties being tugged off her pelvis, "you got me feeling so groovy I'm all flustered. 'Course I won't tell anybody. Think I'm stupid? She-e-e-it, Miss Kressler, you've got my snatch so hot I sure don't want you to stop now!"

Vera drew the white cotton panties off over Lynda's trim black ankles and stared hungrily at the wet, curly junction of her lithe thighs. One part of her mind was shamed at the idea of her taking advantage of one of the girls in her charge – willing or not. But in another area of her excited brain, we woman couldn't wait to receive the girl's nakedness against her own and to have at last some relief from the hot desire that cried out deep inside.

She shot a hand up underneath the girl's top and felt the fabric cup of her brassiere bursting with the fullness of her young breasts. She unbuttoned the top all the way down and exposed to view the teenager's entire torso. The wonderful contrast of the clean white brassiere against Lynda's smooth black skin sent a pang of desire through Vera's loins and she could hardly wait to get the girl completely naked.