A STUDY OF NEW EXPERIENCES, IN OIL ON CANVAS.
Andrea was giving me that look again; the sultry one that indicated some deep, private thought lingering behind those pretty hazel eyes. This was always torture for me, I would sometimes fantasize about the reasons behind that look but there was no way to know for sure. I’m sure that I’m not a lesbian, I like boys and I have never thought about another girl in that way until now. Okay, that’s not technically true; I once shared a clandestine moment with a close female friend at a party, but I don’t really count that because it was during a game of truth or dare.
I stole another glance at my classmate across the room. She was standing at her easel with one hand on her slim hip, the other holding her paintbrush; poised delicately with it’s end against her lips as she contemplated her work. She subconsciously nibbled the wood. She caught me looking and offered a shy smile. I scanned the room and caught the eye of our tutor, “Mr Grant, can I nip to the loo?”
I know that Andrea will only ever be a friend and a fantasy for me, but what a fantasy she was. Tall and slender with a soft mess of cropped black hair while I was petite with a long honey mane. I made my way out of the room and headed for the college bathrooms. During class time the facilities were deserted. I locked myself in a cubicle, leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. I traced my fingertips over my nipples. They stood erect beneath my loose shirt as I pictured her lips and tounge tasting and caressing them. ‘Andrea,’ I said inside my head, ‘I’d love to feel your tounge on my hot pussy’. My hand moved under my skirt and pulled my panties aside. Shit, I was dripping already and the crotch of my knickers was soaked. I flicked one finger against my clit, imagined that it was her tongue. I gathered some juices and put my fingers to my lips. With my free hand I began fingering myself while sucking at the other and thinking about Andréa’s pussy in my face.
I managed to slide a third finger in to my hot, swollen cunt and built up a really good motion. Sort of wriggling my fingers back and forth, as well as thrusting them in and out. Roughly fucking myself with my own hand, pretending it was Andréa’s. Oh god, that was doing it, that was doing the job. I felt myself build sweetly up to orgasm and came on to my hand. The muscles clenched and spasmed, sending waves of aching euphoria though my thighs and stomach. I let out a little sigh and relaxed against the cubicle wall. I had really needed that. Contented, I opened the door and washed my hands at the row of sinks.
Mr Grant was waiting by the door when I got back to class. The class was breaking for lunch, students were grabbing bags and jackets and heading off in groups for the cafeteria. “Louise, could you stay behind for a minute?” he asked. “I want to speak to you about this piece.” He held up a painting which I had completed recently.
Oh god, I hope he doesn’t know about the bathroom, I thought to myself worriedly. Wild scenarios played through my head. Mr Grant watching me as I got myself off. A quirky little smile playing on his lips. I forced my voice to be calm. “Sure,” I said.
Andrea loitered by the door, rucksack in hand. “I’ll wait,” she offered. We occasionally spent breaks together. I smiled my thanks and followed Mr Grant through to his office.
“I’m impressed by this work,” he began as he closed the door and gestured me to sit. “The brushwork is good and you have managed to capture the mood very well.”
“Thanks,” I said quickly, eager to get away.
“Just one thing bothers me though,” he frowned. “I get a feeling about you now and then. Something under the surface which you are holding back.”
I must have blushed because he smiled suddenly. “Don’t worry though Louise, I see a lot of potential in you. We just need to figure out how to release it.”
He gestured towards the painting. It was an assignment the class had completed recently, involving life drawing. It featured a nude woman, turned away but glancing nervously over her shoulder at her observer. “Louise, only you and a few others in this class actually managed to capture the message behind this task,” he said. “Here you have shown the subject’s blatant sexuality churning wildly alongside her naivety.”
My cheeks flushed crimson.
“There is the problem!” he announced. “You blush, even when your own sexuality is so apparent. For this piece,” he gestured again, “you connected well with the subject, but for your talent to progress you need to achieve a deeper understanding of a person’s frustrations and how they can be overcome.”
If he only knew, I almost giggled.
“Stand up for a minute, lean forward on my desk,” he commanded.
I was still for a moment, unsure.
Mr Grant gestured for a third time. “Come on, I’d like to try something with you.”
“Ok,” not wishing to displease him, I did as asked. I liked him, he was cute in an eccentric teachery way. He was quite a bit older but he carried himself with a youthful vitality that did not go unnoticed among the other students. I leaned on to his desk and he nodded his approval.
“Right, now just relax and go along with this. It will give you a valuable insight for the development of your work, trust me.”
Funnily enough, I did trust him. He gave off such an unthreatening vibe, and although I was pretty sure I knew what he wanted to ‘try with me,’ I felt that I wanted to please this guy.
Even so, I gave a little jolt of surprise when I felt his rough hands push up the back of my skirt and caress my buttocks. With obviously practiced ease, he slid my knickers down in one motion.
“Mr Grant, I…”
“I see that somebody’s already been practicing,” he scolded, exploring my swollen clitoris and drenched pussy with his expert fingers. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson for that.”
He reached back for a moment and produced a thick handled paint brush from the supply shelves behind us, gently waved it in front of my eyes. “What? I mean…”
One thick finger forced it’s way in to my mouth and rested on my tongue. I involuntarily suckled it.
“There’s a good girl,”
The bristled end stroked back and forth across my hole. It tickled my clit for a tantalising moment before I felt it withdraw. Suddenly, I felt the tip of the thick handle push past my swollen entrance. I had a vivid image of Andrea nibbling the end of her brush earlier, and became aware that she would still be outside, waiting. “Andréa’s waiting,” I said, my words muffled by his finger between my lips.
“Andrea will wait,” Mr Grant responded, inserting the tip of the thick handle further. It reached the hilt and I moaned softly, it felt quite nice, sliding inside me. “Art comes from within,” he lectured in a poetic voice, “your most valued tools are inside you. Once you realise that, your creative juices will flow unabated.” He began rhythmically fucking me with the carved handle, his erection pressing against my thigh through his jeans.
My god, he wasn’t wrong there, I thought. I was definitely aware of the tool inside me, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before the juices began to flow.
I moaned softly as I came hard, involuntarily thrusting the handle out of my body. “You shouldn’t resist”, Mr Grant scolded, “what you have inside you is a gift!”
The damp wood probed at my tight arsehole. “No, please not there,” I mumbled, to no avail. I squirmed as I felt the weight of his body pinning me against the desk. A second finger entered my mouth and I gently nuzzled them. I felt my virgin hole stretch and protest as the hard tool probed deeper, forcing its way inside.
“Art cannot be confined to the realms of normality”, my teacher advised, “you must welcome the obscure and embrace it.”
I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut, willing this discomfort to be over. But then the strangest thing happened; I realised that I was enjoying the motion. It didn’t feel so bad. In fact, it felt really dirty and horny. I realised that I had started gyrating and thrusting backwards. Accommodating the entire length in one thrust, before allowing it to slide out and repeat the action. My own cum dribbled down my thighs and I sucked greedily on the two thick fingers in my mouth.
“Fuck me, please. Fuck me,” I mumbled, “I need cock!” I was surprised at my own outspokenness, but I was almost out of my mind. I needed a big thick cock inside me.
He moved suddenly and both fingers and brush were removed. “No,” he said, “not today, today is only about awakening your talent.”
He turned me gently to face him, tucked some stray hair behind my ear, stepped back and smiled. “Off you go, Andréa’s waiting.” His demeanor was once again eccentric and teachery. For a moment, I was confused as to whether anything had actually taken place. But as I followed his gaze down to my knickers, damp and twisted at my ankles; there was really no doubt.
Andrea was still waiting. I gave her a ‘one more minute, please’ gesture and nipped to the loo to wash myself. There was no chance of repairing my soaked pants, so i just removed them and stuffed them in to my bag. We made our way through the college to the cafeteria. It was teeming with students, all loud and jocular. Although I usually enjoyed this atmosphere, I felt like I needed some quiet time to process the morning’ s events. We bought sandwiches and joined a small group at a table. I knew some of them and we chatted distractedly throughout lunch.
Our next class was just a study period, so we headed for the back of the library and selected seats. It was empty, no one ever used study periods for actual study but I had to revise for an upcoming essay on French impressionism. So I picked out a few books and got stuck in. It wasn’t long before I realised that Andrea wasn’t studying. She was just sitting there, looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
She looked away and for a moment I thought she wasn’t going to respond. Then she looked up again with a frown in her pretty eyes. “I was just thinking about Mr Grant there.” She said softly. “You looked a bit funny when you came out of class earlier, are you… okay?”
I started to make a silly joke about our teacher always wanting to see us make more effort but she cut me off.
“Look, I know okay? He does the same thing to me. Sometimes, I don’t know how to feel about it but every time it happens I like it more and more. God, I get off just thinking about it, is that bad?”
“No,” I replied automatically, thinking about the complete dirtiness of the moment and how turned on it made me. “I mean, it’s only natural.”
We basked for a moment in our shared secret before she looked at me quizzically. “But you’re okay though? I mean it didn’t, you know, hurt?”
“No,” I replied, “it was… well it was nice.” I blushed.
She grinned and continued, “it’s only because I was thinking. If it, you know, hurt or anything, I wouldn’t mind kissing it better. Maybe you could do the same to me?”
There was total silence from me, but my mind was working at a mile a minute. Is this for real? Is she kidding? Does she mean it? Did I just imagine that?
A sweet pink flushed her cheeks. “I mean, I’ve noticed the way you look at me,” she explained, embarrassed. “I’ve been giving you looks too, I’ve wanted to tell you this for ages. And the bathroom visits? I started thinking; either you have an impossibly small bladder or you’re getting yourself off! So I started following you to spy on you. I couldn’t help it.” She announced boldly.
“Oh,” was all I could manage.
“It’s okay, I do that too. All the time,” she added with a grin. “I just think it’s silly to keep pretending when we obviously really want each other.”
She moved towards me and her lips brushed mine. I felt her hands exploring beneath my shirt and heard a button snap off through her frustration. “Sorry,” she stopped.
I didn’t care. I moved my own hands over her curves and our breath quickened. I rubbed at the heat through her underwear and traced the line of her pants beneath her skirt before clumsily removing them. She parted her thighs and stroked my long hair as she guided my head to where she needed it. Her pussy was sweet and damp. I lapped at it hungrily and sucked the firm ridge of her clit until she started making little panting noises. She finally freed my tits from the confines of my clothing and started to tug gently on my hard nipples.
“Suck me, Lou’,” she whispered, “suck my cum out.”
I thrust my tongue in to her obligingly and nuzzled her clit until she gasped and pressed her hole hard against my face. Sweet cum poured in to my mouth and I lapped at it, licking and sucking until she was clean.
Andrea sighed contentedly, but wasted no time pushing me back to my seat and forcing my legs apart. I didn’t offer any resistance. Fuck, I’d fantasized about this happening for so long. The absence of underwear made her smile and she pressed her fingers between my legs as she licked and nibbled my tits. She caught my hand in her own and guided it to the back of her head. “Show me what you want,” she pleaded.
I brought her face down between my legs and gasped as she forced her tongue in to me. It teased my clit and snaked in and out of my hole. “Mmm,” I explained to her.
She pulled at my legs until I was sitting right at the edge of the seat and her warm tongue grazed down even further, tasting the juices that had started dribbling out of me. She teased it around my arsehole before sliding a finger inside. I didn’t even attempt to stop her, I thought I was going to cum all over her face right there. She kept that one finger where it was and gently wiggled it as her tounge darted back over my clit. She sucked it in to her mouth and nibbled until I cried out and gripped the back of her head.
I breathed heavily while she adjusted her position to look up at me with one of her winning smiles. “Now that was well worth waiting for,” I breathed. She nodded in agreement and we both looked up to see a tall, cute guy standing at the entrance to our little nook. He was holding on firmly to one of the shelves, mouth open in fascination and a massive hard on visible through his jeans.
“How long have…” Andrea began
“Long enough,” he interrupted.
TO BE CONTINUED……………………………..
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