Me and The Two Schoolgirls Ch. 01

I really didn't feel like working one day, so I booked off with my boss, claiming I had a bad toothache.

Who could blame me? We don't get too many 80 - degree days in April in Toronto, and I wanted to make the most of it.

I hopped into my car and took a drive out into the country, had a coffee at a donut place north of the city, then headed down into Brampton, a suburb where I lived at the time.

I was feeling a bit hungry, so I dropped in to a Mickie D's and ordered a Big Mac, shake and fries.

Trying to find a table wasn't easy; the local high school had just let out for noon, and there was nowhere to sit.

I spotted a table with two girls and a couple of empty seats, and asked them if it was okay if I sat there.

They didn't seem to care, so, fine, there I sat.

As I listened to their conversation it didn't take me too long to figure out that they were in their final year at high school, they were over 18 and the nuns were really hard disciplinarians.

I wouldn't have paid much more attention to them but something happened. One of the girls crossed her legs, and I could hear the rustle of the satin lining of her kilt against her legs.

I took a second look at the girls.

One of them was an East Indian, the other a really girl - next - door, freckle - faced green eyed blonde. Both, now that I look back on it, really cute. I mean, gorgeous, to tell the truth. Baby fat still showing, but attitudes evident in the cigarette package in one the girls' sweaters pockets.

I thought, what perfect ways to end a day of goofing off; why not try for it? and said to them, '"you know what I hated most about high school? The way everybody treated me like a kid!"

They looked at each other and said, 'Yeah, and that really SUCKS!"

We chatted for a while and then it was time to head out. I didn't think of anything more relevant to say, but as we headed out into the parking lot, they saw my car and drove a bee- line over to it.

I was driving, at that time, a cherry - red Camaro convertible. With the top down, it looked pretty boss, sitting there in the noon - hour sun.

The girls said it was a really cool looking car, and of course I jumped to the occasion and said "Would you like to go for a ride?"

Well, they jumped in, the blonde in the front, the other one in the back, and away we went. We chatted along the way to the highway, and I found out that they were dismissed for the afternoon because her high school's basketball team was in the city finals and the entire school was off for the afternoon.

Somewhere along the line I had read that high speed makes panties come off really quickly, so when we hit the 401, Toronto's major highway, I floored the gas and in a few seconds we were ripping along doing 140 miles per hour, with the wind whipping the girls' hair in their faces, the car sounding like an airplane and the radio blaring an old Beach boys tune. Awesome!

We turned off onto my street, which was close to their high school and I asked them if they wanted to come see my pad. At that time I was living on the 14th floor of a condo overlooking the Toronto skyline; a spectacular place, with full floor to ceiling windows, and all the modern conveniences.

As there were a couple of bottles of Vodka in the place, I thought it would be the civilized thing to do to offer them an afternoon cocktail, an idea to which they readily agreed. I poured each of them a stiff vodka and orange juice, and we sat down to listen to tunes and chat.

A second round of vodka brought the East Indian girl to her knees. As a non - drinker culturally, she wasn't use to it so when she said she was tired I led her into the spare bedroom and had her lay down.

The blonde, whose name was April, and I carried on talking about nothing in particular until she told me about how sore she was after yesterday's soccer match. It seems she was on her high school girls' soccer team. They had had a tough time with the other team and she was aching from heel to toe.

I'm not a professional masseur, but I AM fine story teller, so I did say that I had professional training in massage and that I could really do something for her sore feet.

With a few vodkas in her, and having developed a trust in me, it was cinch that she would go along with that idea, so I took the cushions off the couch, laid them in a row along the floor of the living room and had her lie down face first along them.

Now, I should take you back to when I first saw the girls in the restaurant. They were every man's wet dream, dressed, as they were, in their schoolgirl uniforms. They both wore blue and black tartan skirts, and of course they had rolled up the waists to the point where their hem lines almost touched the bottom of their white cotton panties. White knee socks, white blouses, blue sweaters and matching neck ties completed the outfit.

I had had a hard time containing my excitement when I first met them. Such was the case now, when the prettiest blonde schoolgirl I have ever set eyes upon moved off over and laid down, face first, on those cushions.

I told her to not be bashful, and that my training led me to behave in a most professional manner.

I started by taking off her knee socks. I told her that in order for the massage to really 'take' I had to do that; otherwise the effect of the massage oil wouldn't work.

I didn't really have any massage oil, but I did have a bottle of cooking oil and it was the right color and consistency. I poured a little into my hands, let it warm a bit and then drizzled it over her feet, calves and lower thighs.

I started to massage her feet, taking care to squeeze each toe gently, then moving onto the balls of her feet, kneading them and increasing the pressure, slightly, 'til I saw a bit of a grimace on her face. I then backed off.

Her calves came next. I stroked them gently with my palms, and noticed goose bumps forming all along her legs and a slight reddening of her face. Slowly, gently, I rubbed her sore muscles, working my way upwards on and on towards her knees.

Then came her thighs, and a moment of decision: How much farther should I push things? How far upwards would she be willing to let me go?

I started by stroking them gently with my fingertips, going upwards until, and about an inch from the bottom of her hem, I stroked downwards. I did it again and then a third time, and saw that she was getting redder in the face and the goose bumps were standing out fully.

As I continued to stroke her thighs, I could hear her give off a soft moan, an almost imperceptible one, followed by a slow, deep, indrawn breath.

I got the oil and drizzled some on her thigh, kneading it into her soft, slightly tanned skin as I did so.

Using all my fingers, and my palms, I began to rub up and across her skin in a circular motion, moving slowly up, a half inch at a time, to just below the hem of her skirt.

What a contrast in colors: the blue and grey tartan of her skirt, which had become hiked up to just below her panties, and her incredibly soft skin, which showed a slight tan from her having played soccer outside in the fresh spring air.

I took a chance, and moved my hands up and in under her skirt, all the time gently massaging her, until, finally, her panties came into view.

I paused there, still gently circling my hands back and forth along her thighs, and then moved her right leg over in oder to make room for me to kneel in between them.

Once again, I started to knead her thighs at knee level, but moving upwards, ever upwards, an inch at a time, until it was now or never: should I or should I not go up to her panties?

I took the chance, moving my roving hands up and cupping her buttocks from outside her panties. Her breathing became halting, her face reddened and a slight bit of perspiration started to show on her upper lip. Her head was turned sideways, to the left, and I saw her lips part. I heard her take a deep intake of breath.

Her panties were soft and white, the cotton material clinging to her skin, and my hands busied themselves with kneading and gently prodding the muscles of her buttocks.

I went further up, slipping my hands up and over the top of her panties until I was massaging the skin on her back just above her waist line.

By this time her skirt was bunched up well over her panties, giving me the most intensely erotic sight: blue and grey tartan skirt, pure, unblemished skin and white cotton panties with a small wet spot starting to grow where I knew her sweet spot dwelt.

It was time to take matters more in hand, and I put some oil on her thighs just below her panties and started to rub it in, little by little moving my hands closer, then closer, then finally just under the bottom of her panties.

By this time all I could hear, apart from the movement of my hands and the soft satin swish of her skirt as it moved slightly from side to side, was a series of soft, low, indrawn breaths followed by moans of pleasure.

How does that feel?" I asked, and when she said "Feels great!" I moved my hands, circling and kneading her flesh, a bit farther up, then inside and under her panties.

Within a few minutes, I was holding her cheeks, rubbing and manipulating them like soft pillows, bringing my thumbs closer and closer to her most intimate, private parts.

I kept that up for a minute or two, took my hands out from under her panties, and then pretended to lean on my right hand while reaching for the oil bottle with my left. As I did so, I let my wrist brush up against the Vee of her panties, the innermost piece of fabric, the place where the small wet spot had grown to about three inches long. She let out a startled gasp at the touch.

I pretended to reach further for the oil, letting my hand rub against her again, with the same result, and at that critical moment decided to

go for broke; to let my hands wander where they may, to overcome my hesitance and test her shyness.

Once again, I drizzled some oil onto her upper thigh, spread it out gently with both hands, one on each leg, and moved my hands in an ever- increasing circular motion up and under her panties.

As my hands moved around and around, I brought my thumbs closer and ever so slightly closer to her secret spots, and them, pretending to lose my balance a little, brought one of my thumbs in, up and across her steaming hot, soaking wet vagina.

She seemed to be in a trance. Her breath was coming in and out in gasps. Her face reddened, her cheeks glowed and her thighs twitched in a reflex motion, bringing my thumb against her pussy again.

I pressed my luck, moving my other hand inwards and cupping her right buttock, and then, while my other thumb started to stroke her soft, hot, wet pussy, I brought the other in a swift, feather- light movement, across her little bottom hole.

She turned to look at me, with a puzzled expression on her face, as if to ask what I was doing, but said nothing when I brought my thumb and forefinger into contact with her pussy lips and her by now stiffening clitoris.

She clenched the cushions near her head tightly, bit into them and moaned a deep groan that told me I had brought her to the point of no return, and that my skilled hands had won the day.

With my forefinger I rubbed her clitoris in a sideways motion, skimming it over the hood then down into her moist pussy and up again, spreading her juices and my oils over the entire area.

Her soft, blond pubic hairs started to puff out from under her panties, and the wet spot spread more and more until her entire crotch piece and front became soaked.

As I worked her clitoris with my left hand, I brought my right up and inside her panties, the thumb seeking and then finding the hot, wet, tight opening to her vagina. I eased it slowly in as far as the first joint, and then circled it round and around the opening.

Her reaction was swift: her breathing became a series of short gasps, her face reddened ever more, and her thighs began to twitch in response to the rhythm of my stroking.

I slid my thumb in further, slowly, always circling her inside, until I could feel the soft, wet corrugations that marked the location of her g-spot.

I pressed down with the thumb and began to press on and off the spot in time with the strokes of my other thumb on her clitoris.

She moaned a deep, throaty moan that told me that she was going out of her mind with lust, and sped up the motions of both thumbs. Her face twisted in a grimace, sweat broke out on her brows, her head yawed from side to side and her skirt tumbled up and over her waist as her thighs started to pump up and down in an involuntary response.

Her moans became more and more labored, her back arched, then her thighs clamped down hard on my hands as she peaked in a violent climax. She bit down hard on the cushion and screamed into it, her hips convulsed, wetness spread rapidly across the back of her panties, and onto the cushion below, and she gasped for air.

Her thighs relaxed, she became loose - limbed, and she breathed in deep sobs of joy as her climax subsided.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I slid my hands up to the waistband of her soaking wet panties and pulled them down, past her knees and then off entirely.

I got down on my belly and began kissing her thighs, moving up and up until my nose was nuzzling against her secret opening, then started to lick her pussy, moving my tongue around and around her opening then up and down over her clitoris.

I kept that up for a minute or so, and then told her to roll over onto her back.

She seemed dazed, drunken, not knowing, and moving her arm over, she turned her body so she faced me.

I massaged her thighs, gently, and then moved my face lower, Her blonde hairs brushed against my cheeks, my tongue sought then found her sweet pussy and I took her clitoris in between my lips and started a slow, loving, sucking, soft bite.

Her hands gripped my head, she panted, she bucked her hips, and I undid my pants and moved up and knelt over her body.

I found her opening, rubbed my cock over it, wetted it and then pushed in the head.

I started to move in and out, and slowly pushed myself inside until I was fully engulphed in the hottest, wettest, tightest vagina I had ever known. Her lips met mine, our tongues played against each other, her eyes closed, she moaned and let herself go.

'What would you like me to do?" I asked, and she said, "Anything you want." She said, as she let out another deep moan.

I rubbed my pelvis against her nubbin. She moaned, she moved her hips up and down, her wetness became ever more profuse, and we melted together.

I moved in and out of her slowly, all the while watching her face. Her eyes were closed and each time I thrust inwards she let out a moan of lust and pleasure.

As time went on, and all the while maintaining control, I slowly increased the pace, until I was slamming into her furiously, driven by lust and the thought that I had to make the most of this experience; I, in my forties, and with a girl half my age. Ah, the sweet taste of forbidden fruit!

Minutes seemed to become suspended; time meant nothing, and we floated away together in an endless climax. I bathed her insides with a flood of lumpy sperm. Her eyes rolled up inside, her sweat mingled with mine, and I reveled in a feeling of lust, of closeness, and of triumph over what I had at first thought would be an insurmountable wall of resistance on the part of a very young girl faced with her first real taste of what an adult male can do.

There came a stirring, a slight movement and the other girl entered the room...........Cont'd...Part two