Just a Little Peek

"Just like that!" she exclaimed, giving him a mock look of annoyance and a little wiggle of protest with her behind. More seriously, she whispered, "Ronnie, now be careful. I don't want anybody to see what you're doing," which was also clearly indicating that she wanted him to continue.

"You didn't mind showing yourself off earlier today."

"That was different," she argued.

"It was different, but maybe this is even better?"

Sally could feel her heart pattering with excitement at the feel of Ronald's hand fondling her derriere, right in front of people talking and studying, apparently completely unaware that she had her bottom fully exposed under her skirt and a boy's hand was softly caressing it. The stinging had now gone, replaced with just a warm glow, matched only by a gradually increasing warmth building between her thighs.

Ronald as well could feel his cock swelling as he enjoyed the feel of her sweet little bubble butt. He recalled how cute it was when she was bent over in the hall, dancing away like a little puppet's bottom trying to escape the smacking hand of Miss Harding, her puppeteer. And now he basked in the delight of slowly but thoroughly exploring its innocent curves and valleys. She leaned against him as he explored her tushy, allowing even more protection from being caught, as well as better access.

"Ronnie, you're being a very bad boy."

"You think maybe I should be spanked?"

Sally lifted her chin in defiant pride and said, "Maybe you should. If Miss Harding caught you doing that, you would be in big trouble." The mention of Miss Harding aroused a realistic apprehension, but actually further excitement as well. Sally had a vivid, concrete, reminder for knowing, feeling, how risky and dangerous this was, and so therefore it was even more thrilling and exciting.

Ronald slid his fingers down into her crack, gripped her left cheek and gave her bottom a little squeeze. "You heard her. She has a meeting with Mr. Peters. She'll probably be gone a full hour and even when she is done with Mr. Peters there is no reason to expect her to come back here."

Sally's heart was pounding with the danger, the fun, of what they were doing. She felt entirely at his mercy. He had complete access to her private stuff and could do just about anything with her, and all she could do was just sit there and let him do it, right in front of everyone, perhaps even right in front of Miss Harding, if she came back. She knew she shouldn't let a boy do such things to her. No boy in fact done such things to her. She could, of course, just leave, but what fun would there be in that. Besides, there was something very titillating, very arousing, about feeling like you were at the mercy of some boy, making you let him do things to you.

"Yip!" she squeaked as she felt Ronnie's fingers slide past her big crack to sweep down her bottom and rest on an even more personal, feminine, crack.

"Sally, are you alright?" It was Mr. Johnson. Mr. Johnson was Sally's English professor.

Sally froze in panic. She was sitting back on her haunches, with Ronnie's hand up her skirt, and his finger now on the lips of her cunnie. She knew that there was no way she should let a boy do that. They weren't even on a date or anything and he had his finger right on her cunnie lips and Mr. Johnson was standing right there! Frankly, if Mr. Johnson wasn't there she would have pushed him away, or at least probably would have, or maybe would have, but she knew if she did now they would get caught.

Ronald froze as well. He knew full well that if he tried to withdraw his hand that would only draw the attention of Mr. Johnson. If he kept his arm still, it was quite possible, maybe even likely, that he would never notice it. From Mr. Johnson's perspective, it just looked like he had it resting against the back of the couch, or at worst might be around Sally's waist. There was nothing wrong with that. But, Ron didn't think that Mr. Johnson could even see that. No, if he just kept it still, it will be fine. If he pulled it away, Mr. Johnson might then notice what was going on.

"Oh, yes, hello Mr. Johnson!" She hoped that he had not noticed the panic in her eyes. She tried to gather herself, to appear as if nothing at all was going on, although you often appeared most guilty when you actually tried to appear innocent.

Mr. Johnson repeated his question. "Are you okay, dear?"

Sally smiled. "Oh, yes sir. Really, it was just a hiccup. I just had a hiccup. I'm fine, really." "Well, good. Gosh, it just startled me. I was just about to sit down to read the paper here and I thought maybe you had swallowed something funny or, something. You looked a little upset."

Sally laughed. "I know, I know. I get these weird hiccups sometimes, and they can even startle myself. OH!" she exclaimed, as she felt the mischievous finger of Ronnie lightly caress her lips. "Goodness, yes, my, my, there it goes again."

"Perhaps you should have a sip of your coffee. Drinking something often helps with the hiccups."

It was a reasonable suggestion, but Sally knew that if she leaned down to pick up the coffee, Mr. Johnson would very easily see Ronnie's hand under skirt and, even worse, her skirt would ride up to reveal her naked fanny. "No, no, I'm fine, really. Don't worry about it."

"Well, alright then. Take care, Sally," he said, as he stepped back to sit down in the easy chair across from them to enjoy his own morning coffee.

"Thank you, sir, nice to see you, Mr. Johnson" Sally replied.

Once Mr. Johnson's attention was focused on his paper, Sally turned to Ron and gave him a glare. It wasn't clear if this was a mock or a real glare. She whispered to him, "What is the matter with you!"

"I didn't know he was there."

She put her own hand on his thigh and gave him a painful squeeze to let him know she was truly upset. "Well, alright, but then to finger me while he was talking to me!"

"I wasn't doing anything. It just got tired and I wanted to move it."

She cocked her head and gave him a look that indicated that she was not buying that bit of malarkey. "Yea, right."

Ronnie noticed though that she did not demand, nor even ask, that he remove his finger. She apparently was not that upset. He tested the waters by lightly wiggling his finger back and forth across her watering lips.

"Ronnie," she whispered, first looking over at Mr. Johnson and then back at him. "Now stop that. I mean it."

She could easily stop it by just getting up. She didn't.

He whispered back, "Sally, you probably should be more quiet."

He was right about that. Their whispering might at some point be overheard. Sally looked around the alcove. Everybody did appear to be entirely unaware of them. Some of them were reading. Mr. Johnson was engrossed in his newspaper. Others were talking to each other. Sally smiled as she felt Ronnie's finger slide up and down her slit. "Hmmm," she softly moaned, for a moment her eyes half closing.

Ronnie continued to slide his finger up and down her crevice, at times feeling around a bit, poking his finger every so slightly in between her lips, but never very far at all. And, then, returning to just a tender exploration of her femininity. He did tend to linger on her little bud, giving it a bit more attention, and being a bit harder in how he explored its hardening.

Sally let her head hang down. She knew her face was getting quite flushed. She wasn't at all sure if it was a self-conscious embarrassment at being fingered liked this by Ronnie, or it was simply and fundamentally her sexual arousal. In any case, she felt like he was really taking quite of bit liberty with her. 'My goodness, I hardly know him. We have never even dated, and I'm letting him finger me!' And, besides, she was letting him do it to her in such a public place. However, she also knew that was precisely why she was letting him do it. She would never have let him do it if it was their first date, in the privacy of a car. She would never let a guy finger her on the first date. Actually, she had never even let a guy finger her at all! The fact that this naturally developed out of her exhibitionistic play was why she was tolerating it. No, she wasn't just tolerating it. She was fully enjoying it. She felt so terribly naughty, and so terribly excited. She brought her head down so that whatever excitement would be noticeable in her face, was more difficult to notice.

Ronnie was fully cognizant of her excitement. When he slid his finger up and down her slit he was acutely aware of her moisture, which made his petting and caressing all the easier, and all the more pleasurable. He slowly began to work his index finger deeper and deeper up into her hole. He was not terribly experienced at doing this. It in fact took some time for him to even find it, but neither of them were in any particular hurry. The longer it took, the more fun and exciting it became.

Sally was now fully surrendered to Ronnie's exploration. She wanted to wiggle his finger with her bottom, to encourage him to push it up inside by humping her bottom against it. But, she had to resist the temptation. She had to remain perfectly still, to remain passively submissive to his finger, and this added an additional layer of eroticism. She had to fight the desire, the intensely lustful urge, to give her body entirely over to her arousal, yet at the same time allow herself to fully experience the mounting, growing pressure to do just that.

She imagined sitting on the toilet and having to pee so badly, as if she had been drinking soda all day long, but there had never been a bathroom break. She had to keep holding it in, and not even let anyone notice by her squirming that she had to pee so bad. But, it just kept getting worse and worse, as time just kept passing by. Her bladder getting fuller and fuller as she drank more and more soda. Yet, she couldn't do anything about it. It was impossible to leave. There was no place to pee. She certainly couldn't just pee in her panties. But, she just kept drinking more and more soda, while squirming in her seat, ever so slightly, she couldn't keep entirely perfectly still. What girl could do that? She shifted a bit, trying to find some way to get comfortable, trying to ignore the increasingly agonizing pressure to get relief, while at the same time not wanting to reveal to anyone around her how terribly uncomfortable she was, how she wanted to pee so very badly. Finally, the class was over and she dashed for the first restroom she could find, not wanting to waste another second and so pulling down her panties even as she was entering the restroom, wondering and worrying if she was going to in fact make it there, whether she might actually finally lose control before she got to the toilet. She just had to go so, so, so bad! She was clenching tightly to hold it in. She even clamped a hand onto her exposed pussy as she stumbled to the toilet, her feet getting caught in her lowered panties. She exploded into a stall, sat down, gasped, and then, she decided to wait, to wait even longer. Yes, she had to go real, real, real bad. The intense relief was now at hand. But, there was something so delectably and horribly pleasurable about that pressure. She didn't really understand it. Perhaps it was the knowledge of how intensely pleasurable the relief would be when she finally did let go. She wanted to wait, to enjoy this moment, to sit on the cusp of relief. There was something so enjoyable about the pressure itself, it felt so urgent, so intense, so exciting. So, she just sat there for awhile, knowing that she could now finally pee, but not letting herself do it.

It wasn't quite like that, but it did remind of her of it. Wanting so much to give herself over to her lust, but not allowing herself to do it. She had to keep still, remain quiet and passive, yet allow her sexual tension, her lustful arousal, slowly and continually build as Ronnie worked his fingers all over her cunnie, the wetness growing, the arousal building, the desire to squirm, whimper, and moan mounting.

Ronnie's fingers were now getting considerably wet, and he made further effort to push a finger farther up into her young, tight hole. It wasn't easy, as very little had ever entered there before. He would push up a bit, feel as if he could go no further, and so just circle, wiggle, and slide his finger around and around, feeling her hot, soft, wetness. And, then, after awhile, he would push on a bit further.

Sally could feel Ronnie trying to work his finger up her cunnie. She had fingered herself quite a number of times before, and at times with the fantasy that she was actually doing it in front of someone: perhaps some guy in her neighborhood who was peeking through her window, or maybe even in front of one of her professors, particularly Mr. Peters. But, this was so much cooler. It felt so much better for it to be someone else's finger, to be fingered by a guy, and it was even in front of one of her professors, Mr. Johnson. She pushed back a little bit with her rump to encourage Ronnie to get up even farther, her eyes sneaking a peek at Mr. Johnson to be sure he didn't notice her movement. She wanted to feel Ronnie's finger all the way up inside, and she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure as she felt it finally slide all the way up.

Ronnie paused for a moment, his finger now fully sucked up inside the snug, wet, hole, enjoying how her cunnie seemed to be so tightly wrapped around every inch of his finger, like it was the finger of a slippery wet silk glove. He could imagine how good this would feel for his cock. He then slowly began to fuck her cunnie with his finger, sliding it out, although never all the way out, only to where just the tip of his finger was left inside, and then shoving it back up while at the same time circling it around and around, screwing it around and around her wet, cramped hole, and then when fully inside, flickering it, like he was trying to wiggle something off just the tip of his finger.

Sally gently squeezed Ronnie's leg, just above the knee, letting him know how good this felt, how much she was enjoying it. She wanted so much to meet his thrusts, but she knew she had to keep still, lest anyone discover what a terribly nasty thing they were doing. Imagine if Miss Harding did in fact come back, discovering that Ronnie was doing it to her cunnie with his finger! The danger made her heart beat harder.

Ronnie knew that he was neglecting her clit. This was one terrible disadvantage of having to get to her from behind. If he was doing this from the front, he could finger her cunnie hole while at the same time using his thumb on her clit. There was no way to do this from behind.

He slid his finger entirely out. A soft moan of complaint escaped Sally's lips. She lifted up her head and turned back to Ron, her face awash with a plaintive, pleading expression.

Ronnie smiled at her and pushed his thumb up her cunnie.

Sally's eyes closed with gratitude.

He could not go up far with his thumb, but it did have some advantage over his finger in being somewhat thicker. Sally had never herself used her thumb to "finger" herself. It felt in fact a little odd, but still very, very good. She squeezed his thigh with her hand as she felt him work his thumb up into her cunnie.

"Splursch."

He paused at the noise. He hadn't thought about that. Sally's face flushed with embarrassment, and anxiety. But, nobody looked at them.

He pushed again and once it was firmly lodged, he slowly circled it around and around. And, most importantly, with it pushed up as far as it would go, Ronnie could now reach her clit as well with his fingers and Sally gasped with approval at their first touch on her little hard button, as she liked to call it. "Ronnie," she quietly whispered.

Ronnie pressed down firmly on her clit, moist with the juices flowing from her pussy, and slowly began to massage it with slow, circular strokes, grinding his fingers around and around on her hardness as his thumb circled around and around in her tight, wet hole.

Sally squinched her eyes and gritted her teeth as she felt Ronnie working on her cunnie. She just couldn't remain entirely still. Ronnie could hear her making little whimpering moans and squeaks. Ronnie's fingers and thumb just felt so, so good. Her heart was now beating terribly fast, her face was getting so flush. She wanted so much to match his torturously delicious movements with her own, but she held firm. All that she could really do was to clench and squeeze his thumb with the muscles of her cunnie, letting him know how much he was driving her crazy.

"Sally, what's wrong?"

Sally looked up to see Mr. Johnson looking worriedly at her. He had heard her making funny little noises. Her face looked so flush. He could see some perspiration on her brow, she seemed to be breathing so rapidly, and the expression on her face looked so distressed.

"Oh my! Oh my!" was all that Sally said.

Mr. Johnson put down the paper and approached her. There did appear to be something terribly wrong. "Sally, please, what is the matter?"

Ronnie, however, did not stop playing with Sally's cunt. On the contrary, he smiled and stepped up the grinding, pressing, and driving of his fingers on and thumb in her twitching pussy. Sally gasped, "Oh, no, it's nothing, nothing, Mr. Johnson. I think, I just get, um, these anxiety attacks sometimes, it'll stop soon. I, uh, I just, have to wait them out."

Mr. Johnson moved around the coffee table and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "You poor thing, do you want to lie down?"

Sally could hardly speak through her mounting excitement. "No, no, in fact, uh, it helps, it helps, sir, if I move fast, up and down, like this." Sally began to pound her cunt up and down on Ronnie's thumb and hand, grinding her cunt into his thumb, openly fucking his hand on the couch.

"Yes, yes, that helps so much." She reached out with her right hand to steady herself, grabbing hold of Mr. Johnson's hip, then suddenly feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline through her body as her orgasm swept over her. "OH!" she loudly exclaimed, her head lifting up, her mouth opening up, her eyes widening with shock and excitement.

"Yes! That's it! Yes, yes!" She exclaimed as the waves of pleasure coursed through her body. The orgasm was so intense, so powerful. She gripped tightly on Ronnie's thumb as her body, her cunt, twitched and spasmed with pleasure. Her head dropped down, feeling faint with an orgasmic rapture, her hand tightly grasping Mr. Johnson's hip to avoid falling over.

Mr. Johnson's eyes were wide with concern for the girl. He once had a friend who suffered from panic attacks, and he knew that once one started it was at times best to just ride it out. He could see that it was very disturbing for the girl, her body quaking and jerking with the waves of anxiety sweeping her body. But, he could also see that she was well familiar herself with these attacks, even proclaiming the fact that she could tell that the worst was over.

"Yes, finally, so good, oh yes, thank you!" Sally gasped as the final orgasmic spasms swept over her. She leaned forward and rested her head against Mr. Johnson, not realizing in her exhausted and spent state of mind that she was actually resting her face right in his crotch.

Mr. Johnson gulped with confusion. He felt a bit awkward having Sally's face pressing into the crotch of his pants, but he could see that she was thoroughly spent from the anxiety attack and she needed a moment to gather herself. He also imagined that she might feel a little embarrassed. One of the more difficult aspects of panic attacks was simply the humiliation of losing control of oneself in public. He suspected that she wanted to hide her face, at least for a moment. He placed his hand on her hair and comforted her. "It's okay, Sally. You take a moment to recover."