Bigger Bites of Taboo Apples

I actually looked at her, instead of seeing her from across my classroom desk. Her face appeared oval, yet her chin was sharply defined, not blunt and up close, her honey complexion was still absolutely flawless, not pockmark, not a mole, not a single blemish marred its velvety smooth surface. Her small ears lay back flat, close to her skull, the lobes almost nonexistent and her nose was small and slightly turned up. Her luminous eyes were almond-shaped pools of dark molasses and tilted up slightly like a cat’s. Her eyelashes were long and her eyebrows were precisely sculptured bands of the finest mink. Her lips were lush, inviting. Her neck was long and slender—swan-like and she invariably held her chin high, proudly. The moderate flare of her nostrils, the fullness of her ripe mouth, these were the only real indications of Chantel’s mixed ancestry, even her creamy mocha complexion could be mistaken for a great tan.

Chantel was simply a naturally beautiful creature and in her captivating presence I was soaring so far above Cloud 9, there wasn’t a large enough number for it.

“I… I…” Chantel blushed. “I don’t know if I can… if I can go any further than this with you, Mrs. Chapel.”

My heart sank like a rock. “You don’t know if you can, or you’d rather not?” Compared to this stunning beauty, I was the proverbial ugly gangly duckling and she was uncomfortable being this close to me.

“Oh, no, it’s not that, Mrs. Chapel,” she answered quickly. She looked down at where her hands were clasped in her lap. “I have a small confession to make,” she said softly. “Well, maybe not that small, really. You see, late at night, when I’m still awake in my bed, I think about what I would do at just this moment.” Her voice became a little stronger. “I think about what sorts of things you might like to do with me. I’m afraid that those wicked thoughts have caused me to do things that aren’t very nice.”

This was encouraging. “And, what sort of thoughts do you have about us, Chantel?”

Her eyes slid to me. “Naughty girl/girl things.”

Even more encouraging. “And what do these naughty girl/girl thoughts cause you to do?”

“I have to get myself off, or I’ll never be able to go to sleep.”

Most encouraging. “And how do you accomplish that, Chantel?”

“With my fingers and… and with something I threw in my suitcase when my sister and I cut loose of our mother four years ago.”

“And what would that be?”

“Mother’s vibrator,” Chantel answered without a trace of embarrassment in her voice.

The ice wasn’t entirely broken between us, but some serious fissures were making their way to the surface. “What sort of vibrator is it? Describe it for me. Please.”

“Nothing high-tech, not like you see advertised on the Internet.” Chantel’s voice and body language no longer showed any signs of timidity. “It’s eight inches long, not too slender, sortta realistic…” Her eyes lit up even more. “And it’s black.”

“You didn’t happen to bring it along, did you?”

Chantel actually grinned. “Not this time, Mrs. Chapel.”

I heard the weakened ice shatter and wondered if Chantel heard it, too. Then I heard something else; an intrusive clearing of a throat that reminded me that Chantel and I weren’t alone. “Darnell, would you please go over and sit in the chair,” I said, not taking my eyes off Chantel. “You can get undressed, as I’m sure you sorely want to right now, but please, do not get out of the chair unless one of us asks you to join us here on the bed.”

“You heard her, Darnell.” The firmness in Chantel’s voice was authoritarian. “Sit!”

Darnell never so much as muttered as he crossed the room. I heard him undressing, but the exposure of his awe inspiring, always-dependable black cock was the furthest thing from my mind right then. I tenderly laid my hand on top of Chantel’s. I could feel her feminine heat rising from her pubic region. “Are you so certain now that this can’t go any further between us?”

“If I wasn’t praying that this will go a lot further,” she answered both precisely and confidently, “then I wouldn’t have come this far.”

“You’re sure that I don’t… What’s the phrase you use? That I don’t turn you off?”

“Oh No! You’re… you are the most beautiful woman I know, Mrs. Chapel.” She shivered, which caused her youthful breasts beneath the too-short sweater to jiggle in a very naughty way. “Why, I’ve got goose bumps crawling all over me knowing that it’s finally going to happen with you… for real.”

Surely Chantel was referring to my inner beauty, not my uninspiring outer casing. I gathered up every once of courage I could muster. “Prove it.”

Chantel proved her sincerity in the most convincing manner; by leaning in and kissing me on the mouth.

I had thought Darnell knew how to kiss. Chantel REALLY knew how to kiss a woman. The touch of her full lips on mine was electric and they parted in welcome when the tip of her lightly traced them. Chantel’s wet tongue sensuously entered my mouth and seductively slithered against and around my own. She thoroughly explored the confines of my mouth—the ridges of the roof, the insides of my cheeks, the back of my teeth, my gums. That inquisitive tongue of hers even found its way to the back of my throat—like she was going to fuck my throat with it, before she finally broke off the most arousing kiss I had ever received… from anyone.

“Satisfied, Mrs. Chapel?”

I was having a little trouble drawing a remotely even breath. I took her hand and drew it between my legs, hoping that the fact that my pussy was literally drooling woman cream would be answer enough.

Apparently, it was a sufficient enough answer, because two of Chantel’s fingers gently entered me. They worked an unbelievable magic deep inside me for some excruciatingly long moments before she removed them and held her hand up to her face. “I just love the smell of ‘Obsession’,” she sighed. Her pink tongue snaked out from between her lush lips and lapped in a kittenish manner at the pussy juice on her glistening fingers. Cunt cream… from MY cunt! “Mmmmmmm, you taste even better than I’ve always dreamed you would, Mrs. Chapel.”

Through the sexual fog that now shrouded me from reality, I faintly heard an anguished groan and hoped that D’bone hadn’t just shot his cum all over the bedroom carpet. The show hadn’t even begun yet… not in earnest.

Keisha stood and looked down at me with a winsome smile. “Would you rather I undressed myself, Mrs. Chapel?” she cooed. “Or, would you like to unveil me yourself?”

“In light of what has just happened, what you just did to me, I think Mrs. Chapel is a bit formal.“ I was a bit surprised to find that I still had voice, though it did sound a little breathless. A little breathless my newbie white slut ass! Any more breathless and I would be hyperventilating. “I think Diane would be far more intimate between us. Don’t you, Chantel?”

“Oh, yesssss,” she sighed. “Diane has a much more intimate sound to it. It’s like… like honey on my tongue.” I could faintly hear her whisper my name half a dozen times. “So, Diane, how shall we go about getting me properly undressed?”

I didn’t trust my own fingers to work properly and Chantel’s fingers were already fiddling with the small pearl buttons of her skimpy sweater. “Why don’t you unveil as much, or as little of yourself as you’re comfortable with, dear,” I offered. This way, if she wound up stark naked, it would be her choice, without any overt coercions on my part.

With practiced fingers, the three buttons straining to keep Chantel’s sweater closed were popped through the holes and the tight cashmere wrapper burst open like a kernel of popped corn. Her youthful breasts were absolute perfection—identically symmetrical, somewhat larger than my own, but not by much, capped by brown areolas the size of half dollars—and her perky, upturned nipples, the way they appeared so hard and yet succulent in the soft glow of the bed lamps, was an image that would be etched in my mind forever.

She shrugged the sweater off her shoulders and let it flutter to the floor, then hooked her thumbs inside the waistband of her micro-mini and pushed what was hardly more than a wide dish towel down over her slim hips. She stepped back a bit into shadow and proceeded to make quite a show out of disrobing for my benefit; going about getting out of her skirt teasingly, little more than an inch of the skirt was lowered with every expectant breath I managed to take. When the top of the skirt was just past her pubis, she turned around, bent over, and slowly pushed it down her long legs until her hands were resting perfectly flat on her insteps.

She allowed me a few precious seconds to gaze at her perfect ass, then slowly stood up. I could see in the soft light that she had a small tattoo (about the size of a quarter) on her right shoulder blade—a colorful butterfly.

She was nude for me now, but not entirely naked. Chantel still had on her platform heels and, if the slim band around her waist and the cord that disappeared between her taunt buttocks were any indication, she was wearing a white thong. With a seductive smile over her shoulder at me, she slipped off the heels then reached up and undid the barrette holding her hair in place. Unsecured, her raven hair cascaded down back, stopping just short of her buttocks. It was so thick and luxurious, she looked like she was wearing a black cape. It made her even more alluring, more desirable.

Chantel shook her head, giving her long, flowing hair that wild and free look. She removed an elegant gold watch from her right wrist, twisted a black star sapphire ring off her left ring finger and set them both on the nightstand and with an animal glint in her eyes, she crawled onto the bed like stalking cat in the wilds. Then she was beside me, and then she was crouched over me with my trembling body being bracket by her two extended arms. I was securely captured and hers to devour. “If you want me unveiled any further, Diane,” she purred, “you’ll have to do it yourself.”

Oh, I wanted Chantel unveiled all they way, and I would gladly do it myself, but in due time. Someone as wantonly delectable as Chantel deserved to be enjoyed like expensive brandy; she should be properly warmed, her unique fragrance had to be deeply inhaled, the exquisite taste of her would demand that it be savored on the tongue for several long moments, before she could be gobbled up. “Kiss me again, Chantel,” was all I could think of to say, all that I wanted to happen between us… for the moment.

Chantel lowered her head and molded her lips to my mouth. Her earlier kiss had been explicit, this time she kissed me with unequivocal passion. It was a long kiss, a through kiss, and I did my utmost to hungrily return all of the steadily building passion I was orally receiving from her. “Mmmmm, you kiss good, Diane,” she breathed into my mouth.

Hearing Chantel whisper my name like that pushed everything up several notches… including both my body temperature and thundering heart rate. I reached up and cupped her beautiful breasts in my hands; the hard, pointy nipples actually felt hot against my sweating palms.

In turn, Chantel slid her hands inside my negligee and fondled my smaller tits. “I just love your nipples, Diane,” she fawned. “They’re so hard… and so long.” Taking each aching nipple between her forefingers and middle fingers, she playfully tugged on them. “I bet, if we both really tried, you could actually put one of these inside me. It would like having a tiny cock in my pussy.” Her forehead furrowed. “That is if you would like to do something naughty and kinky like that with me.”

There was Darnell’s wish being served up on a honey-fleshed, ultra-feminine platter. Also, since she had been the first to use profanity, breasts were out and tits were in, so was pussy, cunt, clit, cum, and asshole. For that matter, screaming out, “Fuck me, you hot young slut!” would most definitely be the “In” thing to do in a moment of severely overheated passion. And I couldn’t wait to reach that glorious moment with Chantel. “We can try and fit one of my hard, long nipples in your pretty cunt right now, Chantel,” I offered in a barely controlled voice. “If you want to, of course.”

“Ohhhhh, I do.” Chantel’s grin beamed like a child’s at Christmas. “Could we… can we try right now, Diane?”

I slid a hand down her body, trailed my fingernails lightly along her inner thigh and into her thong. The feel of another woman’s pussy in my hand—for the very first time—was an intensely galvanic experience. I massaged the puffy outer lips, then slid an inquisitive finger between them and ran it along her slit. Chantel was wet… not as wet as I was, but decidedly WET. “Before we attempt this nipple/cunt naughtiness,” I said, lightly rubbing her slippery clit, “we need to get rid of this restrictive device you’re still wearing.”

Chantel rose up on her knees. “Take it off me, Diane.”

I pulled my hand from the thong and grasped the hip strap with both hands. I was in a hurry, but managed to slowly peel it down over her hips. Her pussy was quickly exposed and I stopped peeling because the sight before my enraptured eyes was simply breathtaking. Her pussy wasn’t bald; there was a tuft of inky-black hair at the upper apex of her pubis—neatly trimmed into the shape of a heart, and along the edge of each outer lip ran a finger wide strip of black pussy hair.

I resumed my downward peeling of her thong and when I had it down around her knees, Chantel fell over on her back and helpfully lifted her feet in the air so I could finish getting rid of the damned thing and then get a much closer look at her pussy. I ended up impatiently yanking the thong off her feet and tossed it in the direction I vaguely remembered D’bone should be sitting, intently watching the hot lezzie show we were supposedly putting on for his benefit… and also stroking his hard black cock, no doubt.

Chantel now lay completely naked before me, with her bowed knees invitingly wide apart. She looked so innocent, yet she was also so alluring and so god awful desirable. I could see in the soft glow that her creamy mocha-caramel complexion was all over, head to toes, not a tan line in sight, just the thin pink welt where the waist strap of her thong had ridden right above her hip bones.

What drew my eyes away from her pussy (the only thing that could have) was Chantel’s other tattoo—a burnt-orange salamander high up on the inside of her left thigh. Its triangular head, like a pointing arrow, was aimed right at her pussy.

“Like what you see, Diane?” she inquired.

For fear of drooling like some dumbfounded idiot, I didn’t dare open my mouth and murmured, “Mmmmmmm Mmmmmmm, Hmmmmmmmmmmmm!”

Chantel ran her hands down her body and parted the lips of her pussy with her French manicured fingers. “You might have to get in real close to see if I’m wet enough for us to get your nipple in my pussy, Diane.”

I squirmed around until I was lying on my stomach between her legs, my face less than a foot away from her pussy. The masking scent of her perfume wasn’t as strong down here and I could smell her pussy, but the mesmerizing effect of being this facially close to another woman’s pussy, I quickly realized, was a far more powerful aphrodisiac than any perfume could ever be, regardless of how expensive or exclusive it might be.

My thumbs replaced Chantel’s fingers on her black-hair-fringed labia and I—someone who until a few days ago had never had a serious lesbian thought, who until a moment ago had never so much as accidentally touched another woman’s pubic region—was now splaying open my most prized student’s pussy all on my own. The slit between her pussy lips was a pale satin pink that glistened in the light with her feminine wetness and her clit was a shimmering pearl, temptingly nestled just inside its protective hood.

Chantel grabbed the backs of her knees and rocked back, exposing herself even more. I hadn’t been ready for that, so I was now staring right at her anus. The small, puckered rosebud was a light camel’s hair brown. She flexed her sphincter so her cute little asshole almost seemed to wink at me and I wondered if it had been a reflex action, or invitation. I took it as a direct invitation and impulsively slid up to kiss her asshole. She flexed it invitingly against my lips a couple of time, so I knew I had guessed right.

From this position, I was also looking right into her vagina. The inside of her cunt was cherry red and appeared to already be lubricated well enough with her natural secretions for what we intended to do, but it could be made a lot wetter. I slid my mouth up to her gaping hole and drooled down into it. While I was there, I did exactly what I would have wanted done to me if the situation was reversed and slithered my tongue up her slit and stabbed at her clit with the tip of it.

This elicited two positive reactions from the young woman under my face, a drawn out, “Yesssssssssssssssssss!” and an immediate rocking her pussy against my mouth. I took her clit between my lips and sucked lightly as I continued to tease her clit with the tip of my tongue. This all had to be intuitive because I had never before imagined myself doing this to another woman… never, ever. But, I was much too far-gone to consider the possible ramifications of what I was doing and intensified my novice attempt at pussy eating. I sucked and licked her clit with total abandon, breaking off to fuck my stiffened tongue deep and fast in and out of her cunt, before returning to nurse on her fully unhooded clit. All the while, Chantel’s encouraging rocking against my working mouth was becoming more demanding, more and more urgent.

It had to have only a few minutes before I faintly heard Chantel rasp, “Mrs. Chapel… Diane… you have… no idea what you’re… doing to me.”

I might not have had a full grasp about what I was doing, but I was clearly doing it well enough, and was willing to continue doing it for as long as Chantel would let me. What I was not prepared for, however, was the explosive results of my first incursion into orally satisfying another woman. With a keening, “IIIIIIIIiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!” Chantel’s cunt erupted like someone had turned on a tap… fully. My initial thought was that she was peeing, but when my mind registered that the watery ejaculations spraying my face weren’t hot piss, but that Chantel was cumming in hard, quick spurts, I glued my open mouth to her cunt and swallowed almost as fast as the hot jets of woman juice continued to spew from her convulsing, expanding and contracting cunt.

Chantel ceased cumming much too soon to suit me, but that little bird in all of us told me this would not be the last time I would ever have my face bathed, or my thirst slackened by Chantel’s tumultuous, wet orgasms.

When she was at last able to breathe somewhat normally, Chantel lifted her head and looked down at where I was licking and kissing her sopping wet pussy. “Mrs… I never dreamed that you could eat pussy so incredibly good, Diane. Few people have been able to make me cum that hard, and only… and only one has made gush so quickly.”

I smiled at her over her dark tufted pubic mound. “I must be a natural pussy eater,” I confessed, “because this is the first time I’ve had had my face in a pussy.” Of course, if I had been as young and limber as Chantel, and probably double-jointed as well, I would have been a far mare accomplished at licking pussy (my own) than I was back then.

Chantel rose up and lowered her legs so that her feet were on either side of me and smiled down at me. “Well, Diane, if you get any better at it, I’m going be walking weak-kneed for the rest of the school year.”

Neither of us had any idea just how true her lascivious compliment would become. But, that’s getting a little ahead of things, and my otherwise ordered mindset demands that my entirely acceptable—though conditional—actively participatory decent into the sexually adventurous world of consensual slutdom be presented in chronological order. So, you may consider this entire paragraph froth with unintended hints of what lays ahead.