Student and Teacher Ch. 10

He kicked himself for being so precipitate. This was really only their second "date," and Nan was clearly not comfortable with this kind of action so soon. Somehow he had forgotten that she was not like so many other girls on campus, ready to receive the full attentions of any presentable male at the least opportunity.

"Nan, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to upset you." He watched in misery as she seemed to curl herself up into a fetal position.

"It's okay," she muttered almost inaudibly.

"Really, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

She grudgingly turned to look at him, an expression of fear and sadness on her face. "Really, it's okay. I'm just—not ready."

"Do you—do you want me to leave?" he croaked, desperately hoping she would say no.

But she said, "I think that would be best."

He was utterly crestfallen. It wasn't at all that he just wanted to "score" with this shy young creature; he wanted to make love to her in the worst way. He couldn't say he knew her very well, but what he already knew was enough to convince him that this was a woman he had to get to know better, in every possible way.

But, not prepared to defy her, he slunk out of bed, stuffed his books into his backpack, and shuffled toward the door to her room. With a backward glance, he said, "You're really special, Nan."

She had already turned her back to him again, and didn't seem to acknowledge his words.

He opened the door and went home.

*

When he got back to Iris's house, she was already in bed, reading, even though it was not quite 10 p.m. She was dressed in one of her favorite nightgowns—a flannel thing that went down to her ankles—and she was bundled up in blankets on this cold night in late January.

As Damon stormed into the room, she could tell he was a bit upset. He proceeded to strip naked in a matter of seconds, then stalked over to the bed, took the book out of her hands, and proceeded to pull the nightgown over her head, tossing it heedlessly aside. Making her lie flat on the bed, he at once began paying serious attention to her breasts while also making sure she was getting aroused through stimulation with his fingers. When she was ready, he mounted her and pounded her relentlessly until he came. Unusually for him, he didn't seem all that interested in whether she had come or not. (In fact, she had not.)

As he rolled off of her and flopped to the other side of the bed, she gazed over at him and said, "What's the matter?"

He expelled an immense sigh. "Oh, God, Iris, I want her so much!" he cried from the depths of his heart.

"Nan, you mean?" she said unnecessarily.

"Of course! She's so—so—" He couldn't find the right words to describe that heavenly female.

Strangely, Iris felt little or no jealousy. She was so totally convinced of Damon's love and devotion for her that she only felt a twinge of sympathy for his plight.

"Damon, you've only seen her a couple of times," she chided. "And if she's really a virgin, she's not going to jump into bed with you right away."

He chortled mirthlessly. "She actually did get into bed with me—but that's all she did. When I tried to get to second base, she flitted away like a scared rabbit."

"Damon," Iris said severely, "you've got to give her time. Don't rush things. I'm sure it'll work out in the end."

"Maybe," he said grudgingly.

Then he reached over Iris's body and drew out the cold cream from the top drawer of the nightstand. She could tell he had already gotten hard again.

As he was unscrewing the cap, she said tartly, "Aren't you going to ask me?"

Damon had the decency to look abashed. "Gosh, I'm sorry, Iris. May I?"

"All right," she said, not entirely happily. But she flipped over onto her stomach so that he could lube her up.

Incredibly, in class the next day Nan looked bright and cheerful, making sure that Damon sat next to her. She greeted him with a warm smile, saying, "How've you been?"

"Great!" he cried, trying to contain his surprise. "You look great too."

"I feel pretty good," she said, then directed her attention to Betty Harper, who had just walked in.

It seemed to be understood by both parties that they would have a nice dinner after class—something better than pizza. Damon took Nan to a Greek place that he had always liked, and they both indulged in the luscious avgolemono soup, souvlaki, a little moussaka, and—the pièce the résistance—a big slice of baklava. After the meal was over, they professed themselves to be well fed; and there was again the silent expectation that Damon would not only accompany Nan back to her rooming house but stay a while.

They actually did go through the motions of studying for a bit, but Nan soon let out an exaggerated yawn and said, "I'm really tired." She closed her book with finality and slunk over to the bed, getting under the covers to keep warm.

Damon was clearly expected to do the same—and he did.

Pretty soon they were cuddling as they had done last night. Once again he made some effort to massage her back and shoulders, and she expressed appreciation for his actions by clinging more closely to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

This time she took the initiative in the kissing session that both knew would follow, and with a boldness that astounded Damon actually inserted her tongue tentatively in his mouth. His own tongue flicked hers, and he was delighted to hear a moan that started deep in her throat and seemed to go right down into his. He held her tightly in his arms, but made sure those arms didn't venture anywhere near her bottom, breasts, or other sensitive areas.

But, after about fifteen minutes of snuggling, Nan reached behind herself, took one of Damon's hands, and planted it firmly on her bottom.

For a time he was so astounded that he did nothing but merely keep it there. Then, as she wriggled against him, he began massaging the cheeks of her butt just as he had done to her back, and was rewarded by further groans from her. She was now kissing him on his face and neck, and that led him to pull up her skirt little by little until he was able to expose her silky panties to his touch. At first it seemed that she didn't even notice what he was doing, so fixated was she on plastering kisses all over his face; but suddenly that contact on her underwear penetrated her consciousness, and she let out a little cry of dismay.

Damon stopped his stroking at once, pulling her skirt back down into position. "I'm sorry—" he began.

But she slapped a hand over his mouth. There was a strange expression on her face; her eyes were shining brightly, and she was breathing raggedly. Time was suspended as both of them seemed frozen in place, as neither was able to say or do anything further.

At last Damon asked, "What would you like, Nan?"

She pondered the question as if it were some difficult problem in quadratic equations. Her face became screwed up in concentration, and every so often she peered at him as if she was not sure who he was or what he was doing there.

Finally she said, "I—I think I want to get naked. But if I do, will you promise not to . . .?" She trailed off, but her meaning was crystal clear.

"Of course!" he cried. "Anything you like."

Without a further word she got up from the bed and stood up on the far side of it, although there was barely enough room between it and the wall for someone to stand there. Turning her back to Damon, she carefully began removing her clothes—first her blouse, then her skirt, then—after a pregnant pause—her bra, then, in a flourish, her underwear. She still had her back to him, but he gasped as he saw the perfection of her figure—slender but curvy, with rather narrow hips but a firm, fleshy bottom, strong back and thighs, and tapered calves. And when she turned around, he saw for the first time those breasts that he had only felt against his chest through her clothes: not large, but so flawlessly shaped that they could have been sculpted by some Renaissance master. The creamy hemispheres, with their bright pink nipples already erect, cried out to be stroked by a man's hands and lips. Damon's mouth went dry just looking at them.

He managed to say, "Am I supposed to get naked too?"

She gave him a look that said, Naturally, you dummy!

He didn't trouble to get up to disrobe, shedding his clothes in under a minute and flinging them onto the floor on his side of the bed. As he exposed his erect member, Nan's eyes widened and she put a hand on her mouth.

"It—it's huge!" she cried.

"It's not that big," he said self-deprecatingly.

"It looks pretty big to me!" He could read the thought going through her mind: How will I ever get that monster into me?

"Don't worry about it," Damon said. You'll manage someday. Not right now, I suppose, but someday.

She slipped under the covers next to him, then allowed him to enfold her in his arms. This first contact of a man's naked flesh against her own was so transporting that she almost fainted, heaving a sigh that expressed all the delight and wonder she was feeling. For Damon's part, the feel of those firm, high breasts against his chest, not to mention the delicate fur of her delta against his abdomen, were just as rapturous. For a long time they just gloried in the sensation, holding each other close.

Then, Damon extended a cautious hand toward Nan's naked bottom. Remembering her alarmed reaction when he had done this earlier, he was fully prepared to be rebuked once more; but, when his hand finally reached those luscious hemispheres—soft and smooth, but also firm and taut—her only response was a squeal of delight as she wriggled more closely against him.

Damon could have continued caressing her bottom for the rest of time, but he decided Nan was now ready for bolder action.

Slipping a hand between their bodies, he reached that nexus of both male and female desire—and, to his surprise, found a veritable river of fluid flowing out of it. As he parted the delicate rose-petals of her labia, his fingers were coated with her juices as he reached the swelling nub that signalled Nan's readiness for the completion of her ecstasy.

She didn't remain passive, but instead climbed directly onto Damon's body, pasting her lips fast against his and sticking her tongue as far into his mouth as she could. All the while she was moaning more and more loudly, the sounds seeming to proceed from her throat to his, as he rubbed more and more vigorously until, suddenly, she released her lips from his, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and actually bit down on his flesh as she groaned and shuddered in an unprecedentedly violent climax.

But Damon wasn't about to let up just yet. Putting to use all the techniques for female stimulation he had learned, both with Iris and her predecessors, he continued gently stroking Nan's clitoris. Fluid continued to pour out of her as her groan turned into what sounded almost like a whimper of pain: clearly, in her own bouts of self-pleasuring, she was not used to having her orgasm prolonged in this way, and she could hardly comprehend what was happening to her as the waves of rapture continued to course through her quivering frame.

Finally she was unable to endure it any further, and she roughly pushed Damon's hand away from her cleft and rolled off of him, staring in bewilderment at the ceiling as her breath came fast and furious out of her mouth.

"My God!" she whispered. "What was that?"

"Did you like it?" he said with not a little smugness.

She turned toward him. "I never had a climax like that in my whole life!"

He just beamed at her, not wanting to spoil the moment with some smart-ass remark.

When she had gotten control of herself, she looked over to his own groin and saw that his erection had, if anything, gotten even larger. She eyed it with a mixture of eagerness and fear.

"Um," she said hesitantly, "do you want me to do something . . . for you?"

What Damon wanted, of course, was to take full possession of her, but he sensed that Nan wasn't even close to being ready for that. So he said: "Sure, if you like."

She rested on her side, facing him and peering at that stiff cock as if it was some insoluble conundrum. "What do I do, exactly?"

He smiled at her naïveté but didn't make fun of her. "I'll show you. It's not rocket science."

He took her hand and directed it toward his member. Her hand was so small that the fingers barely managed to wrap themselves around the bottom of the shaft. For a time Nan just rested her hand there, getting used to the feel of his organ. Then Damon urged her to start pumping it, making sure not to tug too hard on the foreskin (he was uncircumcised), as that would be painful. She started her work very tentatively, although even this was enjoyable to Damon; but soon he encouraged her to be a little firmer.

She watched both his cock and her own actions fixedly; sometimes she used both hands to do the job, biting her lower lip in concentration. All Damon wanted to do was to lie back and enjoy the sensation, but he couldn't resist reaching out to stroke Nan's breasts, finding in them the same paradoxically delightful combination of softness and firmness that he had detected in her bottom. When he impishly twirled one of her nipples she let out a little scream of pleasure that momentarily diverted her from her main purpose of bringing him to orgasm, but she soon resumed her task with all the determination of a diligent novice. And presently she accomplished her aim.

His emission shot out of him almost a foot in the air. As she saw it, she cried out in surprise and delight. Luckily, she didn't stop her actions, and she was rewarded with further gouts of his discharge flying out of him and landing thickly on his groin. Instinctively she sensed that she should slow down her pumping to prolong the sensation to its maximum extent, and at last the last vestiges of come leaked out of him, down his shaft, and onto her fingers.

As Damon lay back, staggered by his emphatic climax, Nan gazed with a kind of awe at the fluid that had collected around his cock. She reluctantly released his organ, letting it flop onto his abdomen; then she brought her fingers up to her mouth and flicked a tongue at the fluid that coated them.

She made a face. "Oh, so salty!" she cried. "Why is it salty?"

It amused him to note that this was the exact question that little Tricia had asked in similar circumstances a month or so ago. Nan was quite a bit older than Tricia, but appeared even less familiar with the male body than she was.

"I don't know, dear," he replied. "I'm no biologist."

Nan reached behind her, grabbed some Kleenex from the nightstand, and cleaned up the mess like a dutiful mother tending to her untidy young son. Then she lay next to him, resting an arm comfortably on his chest.

"Was that nice?" she asked.

"It was wonderful."

"I guess I'm a quick learner."

"You sure are."

As Damon wrapped his own arms around her, he wondered if there was to be any more action. The exquisite feel of Nan's warm naked body next to him was such that he was quickly reviving, but he had a sinking feeling that she was not inclined for anything more. And sure enough, in a few minutes she muttered into his chest, "I think you should go home now."

He wasn't about to overstay his welcome, but he couldn't resist lifting her face to his own and giving her a long, deep kiss.

"Okay," he said afterward, heartened to see her eyes glowing brightly as she gazed at him. "I'll go."

She retreated under the covers as she watched him dress. He gave her one more little kiss before leaving the house.