Ron Taylor - Teacher_s naughty wife

Joanne's hand stopped thumping on the floor and she lay almost motionless. "Oh!" she moaned as that invading finger began to wiggle in and out of her pussy, punching her with short but effective strokes. She rolled over onto her side, Alice moving with her, still sucking, still finger-fucking, and she began to breathe heavily, her tit lifting and falling against Alice's mouth. She felt a thin flow of wetness start in her cunt as well, and she knew that her juices were bathing Alice's finger, making things that much easier for the wicked digit as it continued to probe Joanne's cunt.

"I don't know what you're doing," Joanne whimpered, "but I wish you'd stop! Please! Don't do that any more! Take your finger out of me! Let me up! You're biting – softer, oh, do it softer – yes, like that, just like that! No, wait, come back, I think – no – I don't know what I think…"

Eyes fluttering like those of a frightened bird, she sat up, puffing her blouse shut over her bare, moist tits, trying to slide her skirt back down to a decent position. Alice was squatting on the floor beside her, knees apart, and once again she could see the girl's crotch where the skirt wasn't long enough to cover it in front. And now – now she was positive she could also see a thin line of moisture dampening Alice's panties. Alice smiled, gave a little shrug. She was obviously quite pleased with herself. "What the bloody hell do you think you were doing?" Joanne demanded, holding her torn blouse shut. Her knuckles were white and her head felt very giddy.

"Turning you on, I think," Alice replied. "Maybe turning both of us on?" She lifted her eyebrows, tilted her head to one side, and gave Joanne a quizzical look. "So?" she added. "Wasn't that better than some yucky vibrator? God, those things are obscene! Fingers are a lot nicer, if you can't find anything else, and somebody else's fingers – mine for example – can be better than best, if you know what I mean."

"How did you know – I mean…"

"I was talking to Tom this morning, before his first class. Wow, you know you really scoped him out with that! He said it was almost like watching you with another man, and I said, 'Well, isn't that what you're trying to drive her to?' And he just looked at me, all weird-eyed and everything – oh, of course I know who you are! I knew it as soon as you came in the door. Tom has your picture in his office. I used to see it every day while we were balling, till he finally started feeling guilty and put it in a drawer. I used to look at you and think, Wow, Mrs. Hickman, you oughta be here seeing what your old man's doing to me. Like, the reason you came over here is because you found out, isn't it? I'm not telling you something you didn't already know, am I? But just for the sake of formality, I'm Alice Custer and you're Joanne Hickman. Don't you think we have enough in common that we ought to be friends, really?"

Joanne sat back. She let her hand drop, and the blouse fell open again but she didn't notice. She was too busy staring at Alice and the frank, open expression on the young girl's face, and she was asking herself what in the hell is going on here? Really? What????

"You liked it, didn't you?" Alice went on, reaching for Joanne's hand. She took it in her own, squeezed it softly. Her eyes met Joanne's and she smiled with her eyes as well as her lips. "I used to feel really sorry for you, you know? Tom was making such a big deal over me and I knew he was selling you short at home, but there wasn't much I could do about it, I mean, you know how it is, but when he told me about what you did last night, I thought, wow, that lady is desperate! And then when you came over here and did that corny act as a lady interviewer, I thought, why not do something really nice for her? As a way of saying I'm sorry, I mean. Not that I'm really all that sorry, or anything, because, well, you already know that your old man is pretty hot stuff, but…"

"Why don't you shut the bloody hell up far a minute?" Joanne said, and she leaned across the foot or so of distance between them. She put her hand on Alice's shoulder and she leaned into the girl and kissed her fully on the lips. And as she did, she squeezed Alice's hand where it was clasped in her own, and she brought her other hand down the front of Alice's t-shirt until she'd found one of the girl's pear-shaped tits. She pressed her palm down upon the tit and its rigid little nipple and she pushed Alice back onto the floor, herself atop, and she hesitated only a second or two. "It's my turn now, I think," she breathed into Alice's sweet-scented, wet mouth, and she pulled up the girl's t-shirt and fisted the fleshy tit that seemed to jump at her hand, eager to get inside and be caressed.

"Oh, okay," Alice grinned, and she began to lick at Joanne's face.

The two women groveled together on the floor, and before she knew it, Joanne had Alice sitting up while she pulled the t-shirt off over her head. She leaned back, took a good look at her competition. Alice's tits were larger than Joanne's, but not too much larger. They had more hang to them, however, and the nipples were tiny-little pinpoint erections. The girl's nips were as pink as candy, and they stuck out for almost an inch, thin and hard spears of erectile tissue. Joanne sighed, covered the tits with her hands, felt the spear-like nipples burning her flesh. She squeezed more boldly, and Alice covered Joanne's hands with her own, purring, her eyes shut, her lips fluttering. "Oooh, that feels nice, really nice," she said. "You know what I really like about making it with another woman? She doesn't bruise you. She knows how to touch something delicate. Guys – well, most guys, not counting your old man – think that tits are made out of rubber. They want to stretch them out of shape and bounce them off the ceiling or something, really tacky, you know, and…"

"Shut up," Joanne said. "I don't even know why I'm doing this, but I know why I feel like stuffing a rag in your mouth. Do you always talk this much?"

"Only when I'm excited," Alice said. "And I'm really excited right now. I mean, I used to look at your picture while Tom was putting the blocks to me. Sometimes I'd stare at you while I was leaned over the desk and he was giving it to me doggy-style, and I'd wonder, why does it have to be this way? Like, why do we all have to sneak around and do things on the sly? You looked like a really nice person, you know, and there was the sexiest little glimmer in your eyes in that picture, and I'd think, wow, she's cool. I know she's cool. What if…"

Joanne stifled the girl's mouth with her hand. Alice grabbed at the fingers, worked them apart, got them into her mouth two at a time. She began to suck them and lick her way up and down, into the webbing where the fingers spread from the hand, back up to the nails. From time to time she looked up at Joanne, and her eyes were sparkling with delight. How, Joanne wondered, could I have thought this silly young girl was any threat to my marriage?

Because she was! Joanne could see behind the facade, we the youthful immaturity that was at the core of Alice Custer, but Tom couldn't. And she'd heard enough eavesdropping on the intercom to know that Tom had some dangerous ideas about Alice. After all, he'd said something about the possibility of them being together all the time, hadn't he? She'd talk him to death, Joanne decided. But she hadn't yet, had she? No, there was much more possibility that Tom would simply close his ears and let Alice fuck him to death first.

Was she really that good in the sack? Joanne took a deep breath. I think I'm going to find out, she told herself: "We can't stay here," she told Alice. "Is there someplace else?"

"Sure, there's the bedroom," Alice grinned, standing up with Joanne. She had her t-shirt in one hand she was playing with her nipples as she led Joanne across the small but neat living room, into the bedroom. Her au wiggled as she walked, and the longer back part of the skirt twittered round her ankles.