Sensualist

She held my hand in place, and then began to tilt and rock and rub herself against it. It wasn't long before she uttered a low, heartfelt

"Ahhhhhh..." and her body stiffened as I had seen it do before. I felt her vulva contract as she pressed my fingers against it. Her breathing was strong and heavy. Below her breasts, I could see her rapid pulse. When she was done, she took my hand and kissed the back of it and then licked the fingers clean of her juices. Moments later we were locked in an embrace that ended with her snuggling her head under my chin like a cat might.

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The following afternoon Miss Ginger arrived in time for our daily lesson. She was very pale, but embraced me tenderly as my sister had not yet joined us. Of course, I became excited and had to hide my erection when Ashley burst into the room stammering her apologies for being tardy.

After our studies were completed I inveigled Miss Ginger to take a walk in the garden. I did observe a certain stiffness in her stride and managed to coax her into sitting down on a bench near the tool shed.

"We would be cooler out of this sun, Miss Ginger," I said soothingly.

She faced me uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment, and then said: "But my clothing with get dirty in there." But I saw a familiar sign in the way her eyes twinkled and how her tongue came out to moisten her quivering lower lip. I'd seen this before and knew it meant she wanted me.

Although my heart was thumping violently, I managed to hold my composure and say, "I beg to differ," and relieved her of the book of poetry she was carrying, saying: "The gardener keeps the shed immaculate. I've never seen anyone as fastidious as he is."

"Really," she replied, sounding dubious. However, I glanced down at her chest and saw that her nipples were hard, thrusting towards me---she was definitely excited!

Hurriedly I opened the door and let her look inside. When there was no protest, I quickly ushered Miss Ginger inside, and after she saw the loveseat in the corner and commented on its cleanliness, I embraced her. She didn't resist and met my eager mouth with her own.

After the kissing ended, I led her to the loveseat and sat down next to her. She took my hand in hers, and we began a conversation as to how we should regulate our conduct, so as not to raise suspicions and how we should manage to be together from time to time.

"You, dear boy," she said, "I cannot live without the comfort of your embrace."

I ignored the fact that her words seemed as if straight from as cheap romance novel found by the check-out counter at our local grocery.

I wanted a repeat of last night more than anything and heady with the success of getting her into the shed, and began to kiss her. Soon we were sharing a series of torrid kisses and I managed to awkwardly open the last half dozen remaining buttons of her blouse and freed her left breast before she feigned any protest.

"Stop! Stop! Stop, Donald my love! Just for a moment, please!"

I dropped my errant hand to my lap and waited.

"This is wrong, Donald. If we are discovered, my dearest, it will be I who is ruined. Your youth will protect you from any criticism at all, but I would be reviled for taking advantage of your youthfulness."

"I won't allow them ... anyone to come between us, my darling," I said, half meaning it as my hands pried her blouse and skirt open, exposing her generous fleshy cleavage down to her soft, rounded belly and deep navel to the thick dark fur between her legs.

"Oh, you are so precious, Donald darling. But you don't know how the world reacts to situations like ours. My guess is it's always been that way."

My hand wandered under her skirt and whether unconsciously or not, Miss Ginger parted her thighs to grant me access to her treasured cunt even as she murmured supplications that I leave her alone. "We have to stop, Donald!"

"I can't," I said in as husky a voice as I'd ever spoken. Miss Ginger groaned from deep in the back of her throat before launching herself into me, her arms wrapped possessively around my shoulders as if she had to prevent me from running away; her lips smashed painfully into my own, and her tongue invaded my mouth before I knew what was happening. Her hands were all over me; from the top of my head to groping my bottom.

And do you want to know what I thought about, what I worried about, was not that we might be caught, but that she might find me too sweaty from my excitement. Talk about maturity!

Miss Ginger awkwardly reached beneath her skirt and pulled her panties down to her ankles, then kicked them away. She shoved me backward into stack of boxes and chests and I wound up in a sitting position. Suddenly it was she who had taken control, straddling my lap; reached between us and grasped my hard, throbbing prick after violently yanking open my fly and unzipping my pants.

Before I had any time to realize the enormity of this moment, I was inside her. Her face changed from determined fanaticism to that of a woman who had just sampled the finest pastry a French chef could make, and was savoring it.

She placed her hands on my shoulders and began to move up and down on me; my small brain just taking note of the sudden heat and wetness surrounding my prick. But I must say that I certainly heard the sound; something sloppy and so very suggestive, that I have never forgotten it.

Then her smell seemed to change from delicate flowered perfume soap to a sharp earthy smell that filled my head and made me dizzy with lust.

Up and down she went, steadily moving herself to some unseen metronome; her face slowly becoming more determined with each passing second. And when my brain caught up to the reality of what I was actually experiencing; what I was doing, and where my dick was and why it felt so fucking good. I exploded convulsively into the woman writhing above me.

She whimpered as my seed flooded her, but the small muscles within her body milked every drop I had out of me.

I just looked at her in awe, as she slipped off my lap onto her unsteady legs; saw the brown kinky hair of her pussy glistening, and the pink lips with several droplets of what had to be my sperm beneath it. Her skirt fell back into place and she stood there trying to fix her head of hair, her eyes looking everywhere but at me.

And then she noticed that although I'd cum, my cock was still formidably hard. I never thought about how lame a question it was until some days later. "You're still hard?"

That now-familiar twinkle sparkled within her gaze. "Would you like to make love to me again?" I nodded dumbly, of course I wanted more!

A quick smile came to her normally somber lips and she looked around and then came to a quick decision. Miss Ginger raised her skirt to her waist then lowered herself onto the dusty, grimy, cold wooden floor. She positioned herself so that her legs were wide and that secret place between her legs beckoned to me, exposed and gaping wide with wet pink flesh surrounded by damp curly hair.

She looked at me almost nervously, anxious for me to mount her. Later I concluded that Miss Ginger, not exactly a woman of the world herself must have been embarrassed at putting herself in such a position where I might laugh at her, or make some inappropriate remark smacking of adolescence. But wanting me inside her won out and she composed herself and silently urged me to get on with it.

I was not yet anywhere close to thinking about things as they occurred, but sometime afterward. My entire being concentrated then as it always seems to---that slippery looking pink vagina and puckered web of her asshole, which I saw clearly for the first time as I dropped to my knees between my lovely tutors nude limbs.

Her small hand reached out and once again began to guide me into her. From my position I could see everything, or almost everything. I recall her fingers wrapping around my dick, and the gentle pulling of it towards her gaping pink entrance, and swooshing between those meaty lips, stretching them deliciously before easing into the hot wet folds of her cunt.

It was at that moment, I would later realize, that I was hooked on sex, on women, on cold, filthy floors, in filthy alleyways, in the bed next to a snoring husband, in the vestry of a cathedral during High Mass, and so many other places that I have honestly lost count.

A whole new world had opened to me and I welcomed it with my entire being.

My hips began to thrust with the enviable energy of youth---Miss Ginger's body beneath mine was bouncing wildly. I would have slowed my pace if not for the huge smile on her lips, her eyes tightly clenched and her own hands groping her wobbling, flouncing breasts now half in, now half out of her blouse.

I had a sudden realization that I was actually acting out a part of Hieronymus Bosch's famous painting, The Garden of Earthly Delights. I recalled Jeffery Morrison's snide remarks about the carnal scenes in Bosch's work, saying that he wished he could find that garden. Wasn't I in a garden? Well, a tool shed in a garden, actually. But I was certainly delighting in carnal pleasure and wanted more, much more of it.

I knew then that I would move heaven and earth to repeat this moment, whether with Miss Ginger or someone else. And at that moment I made a pact with myself to pursue carnal pleasure for the remainder of my life

And so, there I was---fucking my tutor, who only days before had seemed unattainable. Now I was ramming my dick into her and had her clamoring for more.

I started to concentrate more on my actions than my future dreams and was soon dripping with sweat. All that didn't matter though, Miss Ginger's responses were growing louder, her body reacted more and more violently to my ceaseless thrusts, and when she screamed out a half-second before clenching every muscle in her body, I watched in amazement, not fully realizing what I was witnessing until much later.

Miss Ginger eventually calmed to the point that I considered shoving myself even harder into her cunt, only to have her hands leave off her breasts and tenderly stroke both sides of my face.

"Easy, Donnie, please go easy now. I'm sort of tender there," she whispered and I saw the love she had for me in her eyes.

My body slowed to a more leisurely pace, and she seemed to enjoy it. Her hands drew my face down to hers and we kissed again, less rushed and with more tenderness.

This closeness, this slow fuck, lasted for some minutes more before I was groaning and trembling as I pumped my seed into the first real love of my life. Her arms and legs wrapped about me, holding me tight against her as my orgasm subsided and my cock finally shrank with exhaustion.

Several minutes passed before we regained our senses only to discover that both our sexual organs were already pulsing with anticipation of another round.

But wanting to pay homage to her I found myself sliding down her body, and before she could stop me, glued my lips to the pouting portal waiting there for me, and greedily devoured our comingled delicious discharge---not stopping until with her thighs clamped around my head---I had her cumming repeatedly and begging me to desist.

At that point I rose up, kissed her and turning her onto her bottom, brought my impatiently throbbing prick into play and set it at the entrance of Ginger's cunt.

Ginger wrapped her legs over mine and murmuring her appreciation, humped her hips forward and summarily engulphed my shaft, while murmuring for me to go hard and fast; which is exactly what I did given my youthful exuberance and strength.

We rutted like animals until cumming again and sinking into one another's arms insensible to our surroundings.

We dozed off, only to wake with a start and scramble back into our clothing and try to make each other presentable to anyone we might meet on our return to the house.

An hour later my dick was rock hard again, but Miss Ginger was not available to me, and so I jerked off, recalling the events of that afternoon and reinforcing my memory of them.

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We might have continued our secret sexual rendezvous' indefinitely, but for one thing--- Miss Ginger discovered she was pregnant. There being no doubt as to who the father was, we debated any and all options, including having an abortion.

However, Miss Ginger was a practicing Catholic, and would not even consider that alternative. Instead, while I remained in my room like a coward, she told my mother and Ashley that her mother was gravely ill and that she would be leaving the following day for Scotland to be with her.

Mother gave her a generous bonus for her good work, and Miss Ginger told her that I was ready to go off to college in three months time when the next semester began. As for Ashley, she recommended Mother advertise for another tutor to finish preparing her for college the following year.

That night I slipped into Ginger's room and remained in her arms until the break of dawn. We made love in all manner of ways, and she murmured things like: 'I cannot bear the thought of parting from you; you have become as necessary to me as life itself; and the thought of parting is bitter, and breaks my heart. Oh! Love me again and again, my own darling boy!'

I never saw her again. Oh, we kept in touch in a manner of speaking; she followed my career by checking my name on the internet, and I remembered to drop her a card or letter on or around her birthday's, along with a financial gift which I know was appreciated. A year or so after she left us, Ginger married a young lawyer, who accepted the fact that she had a daughter, and they had four children of their own, two boys, two girls.

I've never forgotten her, and still appreciate the way she brought me into her bed and helped make me a man.

To be continued