tagNonConsent/ReluctanceNancy Porter's Journal: 02

Nancy Porter's Journal: 02

bydavidwatts©

Nancy's Journal continues.....

After Professor Martin's class on Tuesday I went up to his desk as everyone else filed out.

"Well Nancy, are we still set for Friday night?"

"Oh yes Professor Martin, I'll be there. How's Ziggy and Roy doing?" I inquired.

"Oh they're fine, fine. I'm sure they miss you. You seemed to hit it off with them quite nicely. They can be a handful sometimes."

I told him that they were great and then after a brief silence, innocently asked how Mrs. Martin was.

"Oh she's fine too. She really had some nice things to say about you, Nancy. We haven't always been very lucky when we've tried to have other young people watch the dogs.. Monica was quite impressed with you though. She did say that you could call her Monica, didn't she?"

I nodded affirmatively.

"I thought so. That's good. Since we're becoming friends it seems silly to be so formal. When we are outside of class, you don't have to call me professor. Feel free to call me Richard outside of here if you'd like."

I told him that would be fine by me.

"Good! You'd better be formal around here, however. We don't want to give others the wrong idea, do we? We don't want to make the boys in class jealous."

He chuckled while patting my hand gently.

Making the other boys jealous was not likely, I assured the professor, and I headed out to my next class. He was a very nice man and I couldn't wait for Friday.

I got to the professor's house right on time Friday evening. Professor Martin was dressed in a tuxedo once again. Monica was wearing a dress a little similar to the one she wore last week, except this was a brilliant red, and the neckline was a V instead of a scoop. This dress showed less of her breasts but this one really emphasized her cleavage, which was as lush and deep as you would expect. She looked even better than she did last week and that was not humanly possible, or at least that's what I had previously thought.

I ran the dogs around outside to try and tire them out. It seemed to work pretty well and soon after they had a little snack, they shuffled off to their beds. I grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and cracked open a book to get studying.

I found it tough to focus on studying though, and soon put down the book and decided to do a little exploring. The door that seemed to go downstairs to a den of sorts was locked, which I thought was a little strange. I decided to go upstairs and do a little snooping.

Hey, it's a babysitter thing. It's only natural to be curious and, dogs or babies, what was the difference? I prowled through the library, scanning some of the shelves of books in the massive collection they had.

Next stop, master bedroom. The room still had the faint scent of Monica's perfume hanging in the air. They had two spacious walk-in closets and I ducked in and out of the professor's closet quickly before stopping by Monica's.

I flicked on the light and looked down the rack of clothes. It seemed like it was all really expensive designer label stuff, really tasteful things. I went down to the end and saw the black dress she had worn last week. I pulled it off the rack and brought it out into the bedroom.

I held the dress in front of me and looked at my reflection. I didn't quite carry it off like Monica did, that was for sure. It hadn't been dry cleaned yet, so I thought that maybe she was going to try and wear it again since it was still perfectly clean. The only way I could tell it had been worn was when I put the fabric to my face and took a deep whiff, inhaling the sweet smell of perfume, deodorant, and Monica.

I returned the dress to its place in the closet and after looking through the rest of her wardrobe, came out to rummage around her dresser. Usual woman stuff, all top shelf of course.

I opened a couple of the drawers before coming to her undies. I took out a couple of pairs of her panties and checked them out. Gorgeous stuff, and I could probably fit into those. I came across the bra drawer and pulled out a lacy black number.

Monica's bras were mostly industrial strength types, probably because it took quite a lot to support those babies. I checked the tag on the back of the elastic. 42DD, good grief! I held it up in front of me. What must it be like to walk around filling up one of these!

Just for fun, I put the bra on over my blouse and hooked it up, checking my reflection in the mirror. It hung absurdly on me. You could put footballs inside those cups easily, I figured. I looked like one of those people wearing clothes they wore before they lost tons of weight.

I folded it up carefully and put it back just as I found it. I didn't want them to think that I was some kind of lowlife that snooped through their stuff when they were gone, even if I was.

I went back downstairs and spent the rest of the night studying. The Professor and Monica came back shortly after midnight, both looking beat. This week there was no peep show from Monica, which I would have liked. Professor Martin wrote me a check for fifty bucks again, and that was it.

This time Monica walked me to the door and after turning on the outside light walked with me to the car, asking me how the night went and things like that. I got to my car and Monica mentioned that it almost matched her dress, which I guessed it did, sort of. After checking to see that I would be back next week, she told me to be careful, thanking me profusely. Then suddenly she gave me a little kiss on the cheek while squeezing my shoulders.

In a flash she was gone, and I stood there in shock. I know it was only a little peck on the cheek, but it took by surprise. I managed to get the car door open and tried to put the key in the ignition. This was crazy! My hand was shaking so badly I couldn't put the damn key in! It took what seemed like an eternity of ramming the key around to finally manage the task.

I took a deep breath and composed myself enough to drive home. My heart was still pounding like a jackhammer when I pulled into my own driveway ten minutes later. In bed a few minutes later, I knew full well that sleep would not come without releasing some pent up emotions, shall we say.

This time I had something more tangible to visualize as my pajama bottoms came down. The vivid memory of Monica's soft kiss on my cheek and the press of her breasts against me all were all I needed this time to send me on my way.

Next week could not come quick enough to suit me. In Professor Martin's class I looked at him but thought of Monica. This was getting stranger all the time. I'm nineteen, halfway to twenty, and I've got a crush on someone. A woman, for crying out loud!

In the interest of full disclosure, I confess that this was not the first time this had happened to me. In addition to the usual crushes on various boys over the years, none of which were mutual, may I add, there had been one time that I had a thing about a girl in my neighborhood. I had thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world too at the time. She was an attractive girl but was nowhere near Monica's league. To be fair who was? Nothing ever came of it of course.

I had a lot of questions about my own sexuality my entire life. Was I a lesbian? I didn't know. Maybe I was asexual, because I wasn't doing anything worthwhile with either gender. I had even gone to one of those Gay and Lesbian Youth meetings on campus last year. I kept walking past the building because I was afraid to be seen going in. Then I finally got up the nerve to slither in and I lurked in the back of the hall for a few minutes. Then I spotted a girl from one of my classes in there and I bolted out of there like a jackrabbit. Typical me.

Friday came around and it was a real nasty night. The wind was howling and it was raining sideways, which made for a slow drive. I got there just in time, and got my usual instructions. Monica already had her coat on so I didn't get a fashion show this time, but she was beautiful regardless.

It was tougher to tire Ziggy and Roy out inside, and we all got wet later because there are only three certain things in life; death, taxes and you know what. It was thunder and lighting galore as well, which made them even more freaked out than usual, but they finally settled down and called it a night.

I didn't feel like studying again, and when I was looking around the living room, saw a large green photo album. Nothing more boring than looking at pictures, at least that's what I had always thought. The front cover was a big picture of Monica standing in what looked like a den. She was wearing a dark blue business suit, which made her look very professional. On the end of the binder it was simply labeled Monica 1.

I took it over to my usual spot in the corner of the couch and opened it up. Monica must have been a model at some point, because all of the photos were glossy 8X10's and looked like they were taken by a professional. The first few of pictures were very similar to the cover, but then the pictures became progressively racier.

The third picture was Monica in a bikini on the beach, a skimpy white number that she was hanging out of. Next came a picture of Monica facing the ocean, with the top of her bikini in her hand. Oh baby, this is getting good, I mused, and hoped she would turn around next.

She turned around alright, that and more. The next picture was the same pose only turned around and naked. Her breasts were like torpedos, her rose colored nipples taut. Monica must have gotten a Brazilian wax, because she had only a thin strip of golden blonde hair between her legs.

The pictures became more graphic, nothing really gross or anything, but there was nothing left to the imagination, that was for sure. Then at the end of the book there were two pictures that were much different.

Monica was standing sideways and was facing another woman, who was about her height but with average sized breasts and black hair. They were both naked and stood so close that their breasts were touching, and they were staring into each others eyes.

The last picture had the same black haired woman facing the camera with her arms upraised. Monica was standing behind the woman and was embracing her, her hands cupping the woman's breasts. The other woman's head was tilted back and her eyes were rolling upward.

What did I feel? A whirl of emotions starting with disgust, followed by discomfort and finally envy. The other woman seemed to be in ecstasy as Monica held her breasts tightly while Monica stared placidly over the woman's shoulder. How I wish that was me in that photo, even if I had next to nothing for Monica to hold.

My hands were soon unbuckling my jeans and sliding them just a little bit down. My hand slid quickly under my panties, fingers probing impatiently. I was dripping wet, which made it easy. It didn't take long for me to have a raging orgasm right there and then, all the time staring as if hypnotized by that incredible picture. It took me a little longer to come the second time, but it was even more intense than the first one.

When the Martins arrived home at their usual time, I tried to act as if nothing had happened, breathlessly yakking about everything under the sun. Monica went upstairs right away this time so I got no kiss or hug, and no walk to my car either, as it was still raining. I did get my fifty dollars and was already looking forward to next week.

I didn't know then, but this was likely to be the last enjoyable week I would have in my life.

* * * * *

next....Nancy gets a rude awakening

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