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Charlotte crumpled up the letter with both hands. “He’s such a gutless, fuckwit,” she groaned. I laughed and said nothing. “ Get this crap,” she snapped, “Liam, my hot shit, wannabe lover dreams of my warm lips and fragrant hair.” She didn’t pause for breath. “For fuck’s sake, if only he dreamed of tearing my clothes off and cumming all over my tits.”She broke off and howled like a she wolf and we both collapsed onto the rug and cackled like demented witches.The afternoon air was warm and still and full of the drone of insects and the smell of newly mown grass.The school tractor was obviously back in action. A class of junior girls played noisy tennis in the courts beyond the line of trees. Above us the sky was a cloudless blue and the decrepit school clock struck three.“You know something, Char?” I said, closing my eyes and tilting my face to the sun.“I know nothing, Vesna darling,” she murmured.“Damn right,” I said, “We’re both eighteen years old, just. We’re clever, rich bitches who know nothing, do nothing…”“…And go nowhere,” she added tonelessly. We both cackled again. That’s how we were, close as twins.“Seriously,” I said, “This place is all so squeaky clean and organised and wholesome. No one says fuck, the teachers are all virgins…”“…And even the school pets haven’t got a single pair of balls between them,” she said.“And that, my girl, is what our fat cat daddies pay the Lady Lassar Academy thirty grand a year for,” I said.“Whatever,” Charlotte yawned.“You’re just a spoilt bitch,” I said cheerfully. I heard her sit up.“Listen, sugar tits,” she said, prodding my left breast with her forefinger. “Face it, we’re a pair of mollycoddled brats who need some action. Some majorly sordid sleaze, some intense debauchery.” She thought for a moment. “Some filth, pure and simple, that’s what we need.”“OK,” I said, “How about a good, hard gang fuck up the arse by a cluster of horny bikers?”“All greasy leathers and skanky hair and tattoos,” she added.“Stretched out buck naked over a big, fuck off Harley.” I said.“Not completely naked,” she said, “Heels. We wear heels at a gang fuck. High, strappy, fuck me heels.”“I like that,” I said, and I really did. I imagined a squealing Charlotte in high heels and nothing else; held down by bikers and taking cock from every direction. Then I imagined them doing it to me. Using me brutally, ignoring my half-hearted protests because they knew I didn’t mean a word of them.“We really would, wouldn’t we?” I said, half to myself.“Just watch me, bitch,” she whispered, “Just you watch me.”We stared at each other for a long moment and I wondered if she knew that watching her was exactly what I liked to do. She may have guessed, of course, but I didn’t care and neither would she if she knew.“Fighting talk,” I muttered and closed my eyes, stretching out and listening to the summer and liking the sun on my face. And wondering whether we were as brave as we sounded. The pit of my stomach told me we were.There was something about Charlotte that turned me on. I wasn’t gay, I knew that; maybe I was bisexual. But I couldn’t think of any other girl that did it for me quite like she did. She had a lazy, languid, slutty sensuality that occasionally turned into something else, and that’s what I liked to watch.As last term seniors we shared a large, bed sitting room on the second floor. After lights out, when she was feeling horny and she thought I was asleep, she changed into a writhing, hungry thing that gasped and panted in the dark, all alone in her bed.The bed in question caught the glow from security lights. My night vision was sharp as a cat in the dark. I’d watch and listen, keeping my breathing heavy, deep and slow like I was dead to the world.At first she breathed steadily through her nose. I saw the outline of slow hands that moved under the sheet and over her body. After a ankara travesti while she lifted her chin and her head tilted back. She breathed through her mouth, noisier and faster. Like the slippery fingers I could just hear, thumping between her legs.Sometimes she stopped suddenly, holding her breath and listening. I knew why so I kept up my pretence, breathing heavily and regularly and waiting for what I knew was coming next. After a moment she started to twist and squirm under the sheet and I knew she was losing it. Just like she always did when the excitement hooked into her.I always knew when she was going to cum. Her hips began to buck and heave and she made soft little noises in her throat, like a night bird calling. Then, at orgasm, she’d push the sheet to her waist with a rush like she was burning up. With an audible smack she clamped one hand on her breast, working at the nipple with finger and thumb and making those weird little bird noises as she came.Naturally I got wetter as I watched. And when she came, I came too, but quietly. I gagged myself with the pillow and tried not to let the bed squeak.My daydream ended abruptly when something nasty with wings landed in my hair. I shook it off and broke our long, dozing silence. “I’ve got a surprise,” I said, “Interested?”“Only if we can eat it, drink it, wear it or shag it,” Charlotte grunted.“All but the last, by kind permission of Hannah Cordle,” I said.Charlotte sat up and took notice. “Details please,” she said.Hannah was a good mate who’d left Lady Lassar’s at Christmas. Her email from yesterday was brief and to the point. She had driven down from London and left something for us in the strictly out of bounds Old Boat House by the school lake. She described it as a School Leaver’s Party Pack. I could guess exactly what it contained.Charlotte’s eyes gleamed. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Track suits and trainers like we’re running. Through the Beech Wood and over the fence. Job done.” She clapped her hands together and punched the air.ooOOooOn Saturday we slipped carefully through the Beech Wood like a pair of criminals. It was hot and quiet and nothing much moved except us.The Old Boat House salon faced south across the lake so early afternoon sunlight poured through the open veranda doors. The windows on either side were bolted and shuttered. The floor was polished, bare boards. There were piles of old sails rolled up in one corner.Beneath these Hannah had stashed a flat cardboard box. The note inside was as brief as her email. Addressed to Darlings Charlotte and Vesna she told us she guessed it was Saturday afternoon and we should enjoy. The box contained a bottle of eight year old Cabernet, a corkscrew and glasses. There were two tins of caviar, water biscuits, hand made chocolates, napkins and cutlery. Enclosed also were two thongs in flimsy black silk. Party costumes, wrote Hannah.Ten minutes later we were laid out on layers of old sails, almost naked and soaking up the sun. The wine was delicious, the caviar Heavenly and the chocolates out of this world.“Red wine and chocolate make me incredibly horny,” sighed Charlotte.“Everything makes you incredibly horny,” I said. But I knew exactly what she meant and closed my eyes.And this was how we were when Garvin caught us red handed.We were so busted.Doctor Richard Garvin taught art for three days a week at Lady Lassar. His subject was water colour, and his students – who did not include us – were specially selected girls with so called talent.And here he was, out of nowhere and, to our horror, sat six feet away from us, smiling like a wolf smiles at two lambs.“Well now,” he said pleasantly, “Isn’t this a nice surprise. And such a lovely day for it.” His voice was husky, the accent pure East London streets.We stared, open-mouthed and in total shock. Then together we made a grab for travesti ankara something to cover our bare tits.He still spoke softly but there was an edge to his voice that froze us. “Please stay as you are,” he said politely, “For the camera.” Again we gaped in stomach churning fright. The click-clicking of the smart phone in his hand sounded like hooves of the Devil treading on dry bones.“The eye catching Ms Cordle, in her sporty auto, was impossible to miss,” he said, “It wasn’t hard to guess where she was going.” he shrugged apologetically, “I’m afraid I read her note to you and, well, here we are.”At that moment I truly believed we were utterly fucked. Miss Glanville, our virginal headmistress from hottest Hell, would take one look at the pictures and sack us instantly. She would expel us without mercy, like she’d crush an irritating bug. Our university places would be history and if our parents didn’t kill us immediately they’d have us living in a cardboard box for the rest of our lives.He didn’t have to spell out the trouble we were in because we already knew. But he told us anyway, just to rub it in. The Old Boat House was forbidden territory. We knew that. And drinking alcohol was a hanging offence. We knew that also. And topless sunbathing was not only unladylike, it was totally unthinkable for the inmates of the Lady Lassar Academy for Girls.I watched him as he spoke. He was younger than my father; tall, wiry, dark, blue eyed and unshaven. His hair was artistically long and tousled, and I decided he had the look of a pirate who knew how to plunder. Rumours flew that there were more damp, sticky classroom seats than dry ones at the end of his lectures.We stared at each other in silence. We were a hair’s breadth from imminent disaster yet I felt strangely curious. The wine was talking, I knew that. Apart from just a wisp of a thong each, we were stark naked and, although I say it myself, we had bodies that would stop traffic. I wondered if this registered with the good Doctor Garvin.I decided on the direct approach. “Are you going to report us?” I asked.“Oh yes,” he said casually, like he was thinking of something else. He squinted up at the sun and undid the top two buttons of his shirt as though the warmth was uncomfortable.There was another silence. “Please don’t,” Charlotte said quietly. It was then I knew how this would end. My stomach knotted with anticipation.“And why should I not?” he asked.There was another silence. I knew what Charlotte was going to say almost before she did. “Couldn’t we persuade you not to,” she said, with no expression in her voice.“I have no idea,” he said smoothly, “Could you?”Suddenly I knew we both felt the charisma that left his student’s classroom chairs moist and sticky with girl lust. He had a casual, offhand indifference to the power he had over us, and that was not only fatally attractive, it was cool as fuck.“Could we, erm?” I said to him, looking at Charlotte.“Confer is the word you’re looking for,” he said, “Of course.” He strolled out into the hallway.I looked into Charlotte’s eyes. The pupils were dilated and aroused. She had that slutty look about her that I liked.“I think,” I whispered slowly, “We have a filthy biker situation without the leathers and the Harleys.”“I think you’re absolutely right,” she whispered back.“And,” she added, “He’s going to have me first.”I smiled to myself and said nothing.Doctor Garvin appeared at the doorway. He wore black boxer shorts and nothing else. His body was tanned, fit and slim. Across his stomach and chest was the most beautiful tattoo of a red and gold Chinese dragon. In one hand he held short, nylon straps attached to wrist cuffs. I felt my chest tighten.He closed the veranda doors and knelt between us. No one said a word in the half light of the salon.He didn’t hesitate. I watched his hand ankara travestiler between Charlotte’s thighs. The backs of his fingers brushed against her panties. She lifted her arms over her head, pulling her shoulders back, accentuating her breasts like she didn’t know what she was doing.That didn’t take long, I thought. I wasn’t surprised.He gave me a strap. “Would you please cuff Ms Borthwick’s wrists together, over her head, to that chair leg,” he said. Charlotte didn’t look at me as I did what I was told.Her nipples were big and hard as hazelnuts. Her eyelids drooped and she breathed quickly through that full, sulky, open mouth. I knew that look. I could see just a hint of her pussy under the tightness of the material between her legs. When she could, Charlotte always went Brazilian.“You like that?” he asked her quietly.“Absolutely not,” she breathed, her half closed eyes teasing and glittering and her hips lifting, not able to stop themselves. Of course she fucking liked it. And so did I.His fingers were just inside her panties. I knew they’d found her pussy. I heard her gasp. I watched her twist and arch her back. It turned me on. And I suddenly wanted him inside my panties as well. I wanted him to tell me he was going to fuck me. I wanted to scream that he was making me cum.“You won’t like this either,” he murmured, his fingers moving under the silk.“No I don’t,” Charlotte whispered, spreading her thighs wide, her hips moving and lifting.I watched his hand slide right inside her panties. “You won’t want me to fuck you, then,” he said. Her head tilted back and she moaned like a slut.He turned to me and without a word strapped my wrists behind my back.His eyes stared into mine. My heart crashed against my ribs and I felt like a mouse hypnotised by a snake. To my surprise I liked to be helpless and vulnerable, to have my arms pinned behind my back. And I liked knowing he could do whatever he liked with me. I wondered what his tongue would taste like in my mouth, what it would feel like on my tits and between my legs.He held his hand up in front of his face so I could see the fingers wet and glistening with Charlotte’s juices.Slowly and deliberately he licked his fingers, pushing his tongue between them and never taking his eyes off my face.“I love the taste of well educated and pampered cunt,” he said.I felt his hand touch the inside of my thigh, slowly moving higher. My helplessness was exciting me and it seemed to suck all the air from my lungs.He pushed his slippery fingers between my lips. “Taste the eager Ms Borthwick’s delightful cunt juices,” he said.I sucked his fingers and smelled Charlotte’s muskiness, and my head spun. Then he touched me and I was soaking wet. I squirmed and I moaned.His eyes told he he knew I was oozing heat and wetness. I couldn’t stop myself; I panted for him to touch me again, finger me deeply.“You’re just a whore who likes to watch, aren’t you?” he murmured. There was a hot, wet tongue in my ear and clever fingers in my panties, not quite touching me.I moaned and nodded. Gentle, maddening fingers brushed my clit and I twisted and shivered with delight.“Tell me what you want,” he whispered. His thumb was on my clit, fingers just inside me, all wet and slippery.I jerked and rolled my hips onto his hand. His fingers were deeper inside me, making my head whirl.“Fuck her. Fuck her ’til she screams,” I whispered, “Then come fuck me. Anywhere you like. And hard as you can.” I couldn’t catch my breath. “And tell me I’m the filthiest slut you ever fucked,” I panted.“Ah,” he purred, “Let’s see.” Then he was sucking his slippery fingers again. Fingers all dripping wet and glistening with my juices and excitement.“Oh my,” he said, “The honey sweet stuff from a cosseted cunt.”Then he said, “In a while I’m going to eat that cunt of yours. Then I’ll tongue your delightful arsehole.” He chuckled, “You’ll think you’re in Heaven.”I panted and squirmed like a submissive bitch.“But first, I’m going to pleasure the horny Ms Borthwick right out of her dirty little mind,” he said. “In case you’re curious, I can go all night and cum by the cupful.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32