Summer Ch. 12 Gwen's Story 1

She was amazed at how sensitive she was to his touch as he pulled and squeezed her nipples, working them between his fingers until she wanted to scream, or cum. She could feel the sweat running down her body mixing with the sensation of the wetness between her legs. She was awash with sensation. She looked down again at his hands on her breasts, his fingers stretching her nipples, somehow huge and obscene in the glowing red light. It was all happening too fast she thought as he pulled, rolled and squeezed her nipples and breasts, a welter of sensations that were whirling like a kaleidoscope inside her head.

Her breasts were on fire, her nipples so sensitive that every touch was exquisite torture. She wanted to sit down and rest, to catch her breath but she could not move and while she desperately wanted a respite to gather her wits she also equally desperately did not want his hands to leave her breasts, to leave her body. She was so turned on she felt she was about to explode. Her head was spinning; her juices were running down her legs, yet he gave her no respite, no quarter. He continued to maul her breasts, pulling her back tight against his chest, his hand moving from one nipple the other, pulling, squeezing, setting her breasts afire in the strange red light.

He suddenly stopped and pulled her hard up against him, his hand almost cruelly crushing her breast as he squeezed her tight, driving the breath from her chest. She rocked in his crude embrace like a doll, she was panting like a dog from his onslaught and she slumped back against him, her legs almost giving way as she tried to steady herself. His hand at her breast kept her upright, still kept her occupied, his fingers still plucking at her nipple, before she realised with a sudden jolt that his other hand, which had momentarily been caressing her stomach, was slowly moving lower.

She struggled, trying to concentrate on its progress, she knew that it was important but somehow dazed and confused she was not sure why; and the hand playing with her nipple kept dragging her attention back to her breasts. She squirmed and tried to concentrate, her hips already moving, unconsciously making little sexual circles as his hand worked its way lower, caressing her stomach, a finger exploring her belly button, sending flames racing to her groin fanning the flames higher, causing her push her pelvis forward in anticipation of his first touch of her sex.

He held her close, tight, his hand on her breast, his fingers at her nipple while his other hand moved inexorably down. She tried to catch her breath but her breasts were on fire. Leaning back against him she looked down but could only see his one hand cruelly molesting her breast, his other hand was out of sight and she could only feel it move along the waist band of her short skirt before easing it away from her skin with his fingertips and dipping slowly down into the darkness beneath.

She stifled a cry, despite the pressure at her nipple every fibre of her being suddenly focused on his hand as it moved slowly under the waistband and down into the dark secret places under her skirt. This was forbidden territory; this is where she had always drawn the line, where she had sent the boys packing who had tried to do what he was doing now.

This was the point of no return. But she made no move to stop him, no restraining hand on his, no muttered apology as she politely but firmly reined him in. His hand explored unchecked in the darkness, she wanted to scream but she could not find the breath. One hand held her breast, pulling her back against him while the other moved lower in the darkness, between her skirt and her knickers, hidden and out of sight. Her juices ran, soaking between her legs, she was on the verge of cuming and still his hand moved, testing, exploring, although she knew instinctively that it already knew the way. She gripped her thighs tightly together to try to hold back the climax that was already threatening to engulf her; and then the hand withdrew.

She was about to cry out in disappointment when he squeezed her nipple causing a series of explosions behind her eyes, rocking her head back. Her body was humming like a live wire from head to toe when the hand returned, this time soft against her bare skin, this time inside her knickers. She whimpered as his hand slid down across her belly, across soft sensitive skin that burned under his fingers, moving lower until they found soft springy hair that covered her pubic mound.

She thought she was going to explode as his hand moved down inside her knickers, exploring in the darkness, moving over her secret skin, searching she knew, for her wetness. She also knew that he did not need to explore, he did not need a map, that his fingers knew exactly what they were seeking and she tried to open her legs in desperate anticipation, opening the road to his destination. His fingertips circled in her pubic hair, moving slowly lower until they grazed the very tip of her sex. Her hips rocked and she thrust forward trying to encourage his finger to move even lower. The tip of a finger gazed her wetness and he seemed to hesitate for a moment before he slowly and deliberately slid his finger down into the waiting crease of her sex. Her climax was instantaneous, even as the lips of her sex close wetly around his finger she shuddered in his arms as she came. He held her with surprising tenderness as she came at his touch, his finger gently caressing the wet length of her sex.

She curled against him, clasping her thighs tightly together, gripping his hand as her crisis slowly calmed Suddenly she became aware that his hand was retreating, disengaging and she thrust her hips forward, almost crying out in disappointment. She struggled but he held her fast until she felt him at the waistband of her skirt, tugging at it, easing it down and pushing it lower onto her hips. She realised he was again freeing her body for his hands, completing her unclothing, removing the last barriers to his conquest. He worked slowly around her waist until her skirt slid down to over her hips to rest on her thighs. Her knickers followed as she shivered through the last of her climax. With her skirt and pants loose around her thighs he waited, he had unclothed her enough and he waited for her to finish before his hand began to explore her again.

His fingers moved quicker this time and he flattened his hand hard across her pubis, his finger resting up against the lips of her sex and she pressed herself back against him, trying to feel every part of the hand that now so intimately gripped her. She knew that he must be able to feel how wet she was but she didn't care. She pushed her groin forward to try to make his hand move lower and he laughed. He squeezed her breast hard and she gasped. At the same moment he slipped his hand down between her legs and this time she actually did cry out as his hand briefly closed completely over her sex, cupping her wetness, his fingers rejoicing in the fullness of her lips. He held her there for a moment, one hand at her breast, the other softly caressing her sex and she folded back against him, sinking into his arms and his warmth as his fingers continued to gently move over her sex.

He suddenly spun her around on the stool to face him, taking her by surprise, making her gasp. He raised her chin with his finger before suddenly pushing her unceremoniously back against the shelves to look at her. His eyes raked her nakedness and she again became acutely aware of her bare breasts, her nipples mow looking almost bruised, distended and red, blazing and finger marked in the erotic glow of the bare red bulb. She was aware of lines of sweat running down between her breasts but she was too far gone to feel any embarrassment. His gaze lingered between her legs, where she knew her sex must be glistening wetly and she raised her chin defiantly, unashamed, suddenly proud of the fire that she had kindled and that she could feel now burning deep within him. As if in response his eyes suddenly flashed and blazed devil red and she blinked in the reflected light.

Without smiling he reached up and crudely pulled on a nipple. She barred her teeth at the sudden pain and her head snapped back and somewhere in the back of her mind she dimly recognised the subtle but persuasive link between the dull edge of pain and the intensity of pleasure. Releasing her nipple he roughly pulled to him, his lips closing upon her breast. He suckled her nipple deeply into his mouth and she cried out at the unexpected power of the feeling. His lips moved quickly from one breast to the other, leaving a trail of saliva and lust, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling his head down into her chest, her passion feeding his, building the fire higher, burning them both.

She writhed and bucked at the pressure of his lips and his teeth at her breasts and she cried out as he suckled her deeper and deeper into his mouth. She was again suddenly experiencing difficulty in breathing, as if his lips were drawing the breath from her body. Every part of her was now so sensitive that wherever he touched seemed directly linked to her sex. In desperation she closed her eyes as if to divorce herself from the sensations that were ripping through her body, but she could not, he continued to ravish her breasts, biting sucking, drawing her ever closer to her next climax.

She was lost and she knew it; his to do with as he pleased. She was not aware that his hand had moved to her skirt, already hanging low on her thighs, until she felt it slide down her legs to her ankles and she wanted to shout with joy, the pressure between her legs was fierce, her sex was on fire and she could not wait for him to touch her again and clothes just got in the way.

His hands grasped at the soft, rounded cheeks of her bottom pulling her fiercely into him, his mouth still at her breasts, suckling deeply, almost painfully, switching quickly from one breast to the other, keeping her off balance, on fire. His hands pawed at the naked cheeks of her bottom, squeezing, his fingers delving almost painfully between them, pulling her relentlessly, inexorably, in towards him.

She was becoming wild, she could feel her juices running down between her legs but she no longer cared, her breasts were on fire, her sex burning; all she wanted was to be touched. She was desperate for relief, his hands and his mouth had set her alight and she no longer cared about looks and decency, she had a fire between her legs and it was burning white hot. She struggled to clear her thoughts, she was light headed and desperate for breath. Her watched as her breasts rolled obscenely in the red light as he moved his mouth from nipple to nipple, leaving them painfully erect and wet with his saliva, standing proud and hard in the hot red glare. She was nearly naked, nearly free, her skirt and knickers pooled around her ankles; and her legs were open, she was ready, her juices were flooding down her legs.

She called out as he turned her again, making her head spin, his hands pulling her groin hard against him, grinding her sex against his stomach. Her juices soaked his shirt and he slipped one hand down to grasp the back of her thighs, rubbing his fingers in the wet flow of her juices between her legs. She grabbed handfuls of his hair as he continued to work at her breasts, pulling his head hard into her chest. She felt him reach down to pull her shoes off. She staggered as he pulled her roughly from side to side, throwing her shoes and socks away; another barrier gone. He pulled her skirt and knickers from her ankles and suddenly she was naked. His mouth and lips still devoured her breasts, his teeth nipping, his tongue and lips teasing her hard and now intensely sensitised nipples.

Now he had her naked he filled his hands with her body, squeezing, exploring, his fingers freely roving over her; feeling her arse, his fingers pushing excitingly between her cheeks; over her back, her stomach, taking hard handfuls of pubic hair before dipping briefly between her legs, running his fingers along the wet and desperately waiting lips of her sex. Until she was writhing on the stool before him, wide open, lost, desperate, overwhelmed and almost faint with excitement. She wanted to lie down, to cry out, to scream for him to stop, to beg him not to stop, to feel his fingers inside her, to cum. She felt she was a volcano about to explode; every nerve was on fire, every fibre alight. She found herself sobbing, muttering into his hair as he made free with her body, "Please Mr Keitel, please, please make me come."

She felt his hand move between her legs and she burst into tears of relief. He hesitated, mistaking the tears but she cried out for him to continue and his hand cupped her sex. She was soaking; she could feel her juices flowing down and over his hand. He opened her with his fingers and she felt his finger slide between the desperate lips of her sex.

Once again that single penetration was enough, a second first touch. She was so high she did not need any further manipulation. She screamed and wrapped her legs around his hand as she climaxed again, pulling his head tightly into her chest, crushing his face into her breasts. Her legs finally failed and she shook as spasm after spasm wracked her young body, heating her to boiling point, exploding in a hiss of vapour and explosions.

For a moment she became incandescent, like a skyrocket when it bursts across the night sky, a sudden a brief explosion of stars and light. She gripped him to her with all her might, her fingers digging deeply into his back, she went rigid as the sensations shook her mind loose. She cried out and pushed her head into his neck, words tumbling incoherently from her.

Then she almost blacked out, her legs gave way and she started to slide down the hard wall of his body. She was dimly aware of him holding her upright, talking softly to her, holding her until her senses slowly returned. He cradled her head to his chest, keeping her safe, comforting her. He wiped strands of wet hair from her face.

She shook her head in disbelief. "I never guessed it could feel like that," she said and began to cry. He pulled her closer and for the first time she was aware that he was trembling.

"I'm sorry," he was muttering over and over again.

"It's OK," she said, her face wet with tears, "I'm really OK., I don't know why I'm crying." She tried to wipe away the tears with the heel of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Honest, I'm OK," she managed between sobs and a fresh smear of tears. Her legs were still trembling and she leaned against him, burying her face in his shoulder again. "I'm OK." Her arms went around him and she could feel his sodden T shirt. She began to cry again although she had no idea why. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her away from him. Her arms fell uselessly to her sides. He looked down at her, his eyes roving over her body and for the first time since he began to undress her she was embarrassed by her nakedness and she looked down to avoid his eyes.

In the unnatural red light she saw his erection for the first time, straining against the front of his shorts, tenting the wet material, the head a dark smear pushing up under the wet material. She had never seen an erect penis and she wanted to reach out and touch it but he was suddenly talking to her again, his voice coming from a long way away. "I'm sorry," he said again, "I never meant for this to happen."

"Don't be," she replied, looking down at her nakedness, startled at her own words, her brazenness, "I enjoyed it."

His eyes flicked up to hers for a moment before drifting away again, indecision and fear lurking in equal measure. "You are a very beautiful young woman," he began before his voice tailed away. He followed with a half gesture of his hand, whether indicating her nearness or her nakedness she was not sure. She didn't know what had happened here, this was not the same man who had taken her so forcefully a minute before. He did not finish the sentence; he just stood there with his deflating erection, looking lost and somehow ineffectual, his eyes unfocused, gazing into the space between them. Gwen waited for a moment and then, confused, she climbed down off the stool and bent down and began to pick up her clothes.

She dressed in embarrassed silence, turning her back while Mr Keitel emptied the various trays and generally pretended to tidy up. She was dressed by the time he had finished and finally they stood together in the cramped, airless space, unable to avoid each other anymore. She was near to tears as they both stood, heads down, wondering what to do next. Eventually he reached for the light switch and the red light faded plunging the room into darkness. She felt him reach past her to unlock the door and she stepped back against the workbench to let him pass. He hesitated, "I'm really sorry," she heard his disembodied voice in the darkness. "I should never have let that happen."

"You didn't," she answered with a maturity she didn't feel, "I let it happen."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Don't be," she said quietly, "I loved it." She felt his fingers lightly cup her under her chin, raising her face slightly and she felt his lips brush against hers, "Thank you," she said and he quickly turned and unlocked the door. Sunlight streamed in from the world outside and they both shielded their eyes against the sudden white glare.

Their sodden clothes clung to them and their hair was plastered to their heads. His normally pale features were flushed and red and she was not sure if it was the heat or the situation that had caused it.

"You had better get off home," he said quietly, his voice trailing away in embarrassment and she nodded.

"We need to finish off in there," she said, indicating the darkroom. He looked confused for a moment wondering if she was talking about what had just happened when he suddenly realised that she meant the pictures.

"Ah, yes," he said quietly, "I guess we do." He ran his hand abstractedly through his hair, "Although, err, I'm sure I can manage from here on in. There's not that much left." She looked hard at his face and thought that she could see tears in his eyes.

"I'll pop by tomorrow and see how you're doing," she said confused, "the caretaker will let me in if you're not here."

She was suddenly aware that outside the darkroom they had become strangers again, teacher and pupil, and she resented it and she felt a hard flare of anger that he was walking away from her. She wanted him to hold her and tell her again that she was beautiful and she realised that that was not going to happen. Most of all she realised that wanted to cum again.

"You'd better go home," he repeated lamely, looking down at his hands and with a sudden flash of anger she turned on her heel and walked away, out of the classroom, swinging her hips in a childish defiance, as if showing him what he was letting go. Had she looked back, she would have seen him, lean forward, holding his face in his hands and slowly slide down the classroom wall.

He sat on the floor with back against wall for a long time. He thought of his career and the naked girl he had held in his arms, he thought of his responsibilities and of his erection still semi-hard and more than semi-painful inside his shorts; and he thought of his wife, now long dead and buried and his head fell slowly forward onto his arms and he remained there until the sobs had finished wracking his body.