David's French Tutor Ch. 09

(It was 1885 and, as a nineteen year old boy, I was staying with family friends at their large house in the English Midlands. My name is David Shaw and I was there to learn French conversation under the tutelage of Miss. Marie; the family had two 18 year old twins, Anna and Sarah who were also learning French with me, this is part nine of my tale.)

***

I returned to their room just as they were buttoning each other up. They had changed into turquoise blue dresses, again resembling those depictions of 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' by the engraver, Sir John Tenniel.

I marveled at their young bodies, inside their crisp white petticoats, ripe again for my lechery and personal gratification.

"Oh Mr. Shaw how dare you enter a young lady's room without knocking; you might have caught us in our undergarments," said Sarah smiling at me like a cat who had just drank all the cream.

I watched her lips as she spoke and recalled vividly the sensation of her sucking my erection and my subsequent eruption within her soft warm mouth.

***

Benjamin, the gardener's son, was standing in the stone portico when I emerged from the house. The lad still looked windswept from the night before.

"The bridge approaches are still flooded sir, but Isaac Teller has managed to get Miss Marie and Cook across the river by boat," said the boy who was roughly my age and height.

"Quickly then we must go and help them," I said, realising that I must bear some responsibility for the safety of the two stranded women.

We ran down the long drive. The weather was crisp and cool. The air felt very clean as if the storm had washed it and it was now hanging out to dry.

In the distance I could see the bridge surrounded by water and several figures emerging from a small rowing boat.

"Mister Shaw," yelled Cook, "How are the twins? And is the house damaged?" she shouted across the lawns.

I was too breathless to reply at such a distance but as soon as we arrived at the waters edge I confirmed to her that Sarah and Anna were indeed in good health and as far as I could assess the house remained undamaged.

"Oh thank the Lord for that," she replied," I could barely sleep through worry."

Miss Marie looked disheveled. Her clothes appeared damp and she glowered at me in a strange way.

"You will carry my valise," she said to me curtly as she handed me her overnight bag.

We walked towards the house leaving Isaac Teller to row his boat back to the other bank. Benjamin helped Cook and I helped Miss Marie with their belongings.

"That storm last night was the very Devil in disguise if I were to tell the truth," said Cook in her delightful country accent.

"Master Shaw," said Miss Marie in a very formal manner, and taking me to one side, "I have never felt so humiliated than I did at the Ladies Choral Society Meeting at Buxton," she exclaimed, "And it is all due to your childish prank," she said.

I thought long and hard and could recall nothing that resembled a 'childish prank'.

Then I suddenly remembered. I had introduced Miss Marie to a new English word, the verb 'to wank', and remember that I had described it as a word that one might use to express immense pleasure.

I clearly remembered telling her that if she enjoyed an operatic aria she could tell her fellow opera-goers that she had 'wanked' at the singer, or just plain 'wanked'. I now feared the worse. She had actually used the word in polite company. I felt suddenly full of panic but at the same time grinned at the thought of her using my very naughty word.

"Oh my goodness Miss Marie," I exclaimed suddenly feeling very guilty, "What did you say?"

"I prefer not to talk about it, and I am trying to forget it," she said piercing me with her hawk like eyes.

"But since you ask I will say this only once," she said in her French accent.

"After the second act of Monteverdi's 'Orfeo' we retired to the small refreshment room under the staircase at the Buxton Opera House and I told the other ladies how much I enjoyed the performance. One lady asked me whether I had heard it before and I told them that I had not. She also asked me to rate 'Orfeo' on a scale of between one and ten. I told her that it was above the scale and was so impressive that I had continuously 'wanked' myself throughout the performance. I told them that the music made me 'wank'. I have never seen so many shocked and angry faces. One kind gentleman took me to one side and told me that the word 'wank' was a vulgar term for 'masturbation' and was never used in polite society. I was so embarrassed and felt so ashamed and will erase it from my memory."

I laughed quietly to myself and pictured Miss Marie being ostracised for the second half of the performance and the rest of the evening. Poor old Miss Marie.

*** In Miss Marie's Room.

***

We walked down the long gravel drive in complete silence until we arrived at the main entrance to Newbeck Hall. I observed that the roof appeared intact and had survived the malevolent violence of the thunderstorm. Miss Marie asked me to carry her valise up to her room, which I did, and stood at her door while she opened it and walked in.

"You will follow me in please," she said with a gruff voice. "I have just experienced the worse night of my life thanks to you and I demand recompense David Shaw. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded and was told to shut and bolt the door behind me. I had no idea what she was talking about but sensed that it might hopefully involve sexual gratification so stood awkwardly in this most feminine of rooms.

I had never set foot inside Miss Marie's private bedroom and was intrigued to see her little collection of small framed pictures arranged on her dressing table. She had pictures of horses and of her parents and of jars of flowers. I was amazed that she had brought these all the way from France; she surely enjoyed art, evidently. There were fresh meadow flowers in little jars spread across the mantelshelf. She clearly studied botany too.

"You will now please me physically so remove your clothes please," she said casually to me as if she were discussing the weather.

My heart began to thump loudly and my penis stirred inside my trousers.

I watched her sit on the bed and remove her heavy outdoor boots. They clunked to the floor and made her appear two inches shorter as she stood up.

I took off my jacket and waistcoat and placed them on the back of a chair.

I was amazed at her audacity and sheer nerve. Did she just assume that I would wish to please her and was this some sort of release of sexual tension which she sought to pursue? I had to admit to myself that I did find Miss Marie attractive although she was a good ten years older than me. She must have been in her mid 30s at least but was slim, and showed none of the signs of age that working class women did in my home city of Nottingham.

"Hurry up and undress," she spat her instructions at me, and I obeyed. I kept my baggy Bengal-striped underpants on and she told me to lie on the bed.

I lay on her bed and watched spellbound as Miss Marie unbuttoned her long grey tweed skirt and let it slide to the floor. She hung it on a hooked coat hanger and placed it in her wardrobe. I admired the curve of her back as she took off her 'leg o'mutton' sleeved blouse and placed in on a chair.

"You will help me unlace my corset; I have had to sleep fully clothed last night and I am in agony from wearing it," she said sitting on the bed with her back to me. In no time at all I had loosened her corset and she stood up and took it off.

"There," she said unclipping her hair and shaking it down. Her hair was shoulder length and as brown as chestnuts roasting at a winter's fair.

I sat in awe and stared into her eyes. My penis extended fully and caused the front half of my loose underpants to resemble a tent. My eyes remained trapped in her gaze and she smiled at me just like a tiger would, just before making the kill.

For some strange reason I felt afraid. Miss Marie no longer looked like my French tutor; she now had a predatory sexual appearance as if she had been starved of physical love for many long weeks.

My heart beat rapidly as I realised that, at last, I may be allowed to 'enter' a woman for the very first time.

"Do not be afraid," said Miss Marie who now stood in the centre of the room wearing just her white starched petticoats, chemise and black silk stockings. "I will not bite you, you know," she went on, "But you do owe me a favour, in fact several favours, if truth were known," she concluded.

With that she walked over to me where I lay on her bed and kissed me firmly on the lips. I kissed her back and immediately our tongues were probing each others mouths as we kissed passionately in the 'French' style.

She lay on top of me and smothered me with fervent kisses.

She thrust her hand deep into my underpants and began milking me forcefully. I could only groan with sheer pleasure as she used her experienced fingers on my foreskin and glans. I have to admit that I had never felt fingers move as exquisitely as Miss Marie's and she gave the impression that she was clearly used to masturbating men.

"This is what is meant by your 'wanking'," she whispered to me between kisses and I blinked at her wildly, unable to reply as my mouth was full of tongues.

She moved her hand at double speed, at the same time delving her tongue deeply into me, almost to the back of my throat. I lay there enjoying the fevered onslaught and languished in the sensations which rippled through my genitals.

I felt the familiar gathering of semen deep inside my testicles and at the base of my solid shaft.

In no time at all I was jerking my pelvis off the bed and squirting thick creamy strands of semen all over her fingers and thumb, and filling my underpants with sticky milky slime.

I closed my eyes gasping for breath, only able to croak a feeble 'thank you' to the French woman who had just drained me so efficiently and effortlessly.

"There you are done," she said in am almost business like manner, "Now you shall use your lips on me," she exclaimed and pushed me off the narrow bed.

She lay on her back and pulled up her four white cotton petticoats. The two outer ones were trimmed with Alencon Lace while the inner ones were somewhat plainer and trimmed with English eyelet and broderie lace.

She noticed me admire her undergarments and told me that they were her 'everyday petticoats' and she kept her silk ones for Sundays and for special occasions. She had worn the cotton ones to the opera, however, as she was expecting inclement weather and did not wish to ruin her silk petticoats.

I just looked at them and my mouth fell open. Her petticoats were totally different from the twins as they had twice as many gores and were much fuller and frillier, and all four ended in a flounce just above the many deep lace hems.

"Head between my legs," she barked and I kneeled on the bed between her outspread legs.

She undid the front bow of the drawstring ribbon to her open crotch drawers. They were incredibly ornate with a many flounces of eyelet lace around each leg.

I pulled her drawers apart to reveal a thick thatch of coarse dark pubic hair. Her curls were much denser and more tufted than the twins, and I saw that Miss Marie was clearly in a different league. She was a mature woman, the first 'real' woman I had seen naked below the waist.

"You may begin licking me now. You can stick your tongue up my 'fanny'? Is that what you call it in English? If you please," she asked and I just nodded insanely at her.

I was tempted to tell her about my night of sexual abandonment with the two eighteen year olds but thought better of it as I did not wish to compromise them both, or run the risk of the secret becoming servants' gossip.

I sprawled in front of her vagina as she opened her legs and placed them over my shoulders. I felt deliciously trapped as she ran her stockinged feet up and down my back.

"Je me sens si sensuel et reveille. Je sais que vous me satisferez avec votre langue et vous sentirez si excited," she whispered which I understood meant that she felt so sensual and expected me to do exiting things to her with my tongue.

To be honest Miss Marie was pushing me too hard. I realised that she must have been a sexually charged creature clearly craving physical love. I imagined that in her profession as tutor she must feel very isolated from society in general, and male society in particular.

She obviously gauged that I, a nineteen year old boy, would have plenty of healthy lustful urges and would reciprocate any advances made upon me in the guise of 'punishment' or similar. I smiled secretly to myself and could not believe my luck.

All thoughts of Rowena Armstrong, the headmaster's daughter, dissolved as I stared at the dark hair which surrounded her moist opening.

Her odours were deliciously strong. They were pungent, aromatic and musky. I nuzzled her hair and she groaned out loud.

"Si'l vous plait n'arretez pas. Amenez-moi à mon orgasme," she moaned as I dragged my tongue up and down her inner lips.

Her labia were soft compared with the roughness of her pubic hair. I marveled at the way her juices spilled out of her as I delved my tongue up one labium and then down the other, in slow circular movements.

She 'aaghed' and 'ooohed' at every move and it was as if I were playing a musical instrument. She pulled her petticoat hems up to her head and buried her face in the lace. She squirmed languorously and slid her fingers down to the base of her stomach and massaged her belly and the back of my head.

I slipped my tongue between her portals and into her vagina. Her odour was intoxicating; it was much stronger than either Sarah's or Anna's and smelled like a 'matured vintage wine' rather than the 'immature wine' I had tasted the previous night.

"Oh Miss Marie," I sighed in encouragement to my French tutor who had spread herself like a feast in front of me.

"Use your tongue on my clitoris, Utilisez votre langue sur mon clitoris. Je ne sais pas ce qu'est le mot en anglais, I do not know the correct word for it in English," she hissed, clearly hardly able to speak.

She reached down and with two fingers spread her labia apart to reveal the small nub which stood out from under its hood.

Her clitoris was larger than the two eighteen year olds and was a slightly different shape too. I immediately tongued it and felt Miss Marie's buttocks clench and transfer her weight to my back. My nostrils were full of her hair and I snorted loudly as I struggled to breathe.

"Begin and do not stop, understood?" she said as I licked and lapped and sucked at her most sensitive part.

I slid my hands under her fleshy buttocks and held her firmly against me. She in turn lifted herself rhythmically off the bed with each thrust of my tongue. My back was strong enough to bear her weight as she wrapped her silk stocking clad legs around my neck.

I stared up her body and noticed that she had lifted her chemise to reveal her breasts. Her nipples were pert and erect and she began toying with them and squeezing them as I probed her mercilessly with my tongue. I teased her by running the tip of my tongue up the furrow of her lips and stopping short of her clitoris. Her body slid from side to side as she sought my tongue.

She laughed and told me that I was a 'wicked teasing boy', and I laughed back accusing her of leading her young pupil off the 'straight and narrow' path of virtue.

She quickly squeezed my head then opened her legs widely again. Her vagina lips were quite prominent and had many folds and variations in skin texture. I stopped and admired the construction of her portals. The moist loose skin forming the flaps to each side of her vulva contrasted with the smooth silkiness of the flesh above her stockings.

I nuzzled, and then kissed, her inner thighs and she groaned with approval. I ran my tongue up one thigh and then down the other, many, many times, deliberately avoiding contact with her genitals.

"You are a very rude boy to tease me so," said the disembodied voice from under her petticoats.

I looked up and saw her peeping at me through the yards and yards of white Alencon lace. She stuck out her tongue and giggled like a young girl. My penis was rock hard and felt incredibly strong and lustful. I now realised that before I could even contemplate penetrating her I must take her to her climax first.

With as much vigour as I could muster I tongued her clitoris continuously for what seemed like ten minutes. The petticoas which lay beneath her arse were sodden with my saliva and her fanny juices. My tongue was beginning to ache and I was mentally willing her to climax.

Her jerks and thrusts and swearing told me that the end was close. Her stomach was damp with perspiration which formed rivulets which gathered in her hairy mons pubis.

I lay in awe looking up at her magnificent body, taking in the spread of her hips and the narrowness of her waist. She was clearly a beautiful woman and I felt, at that moment, that I could never gratify myself with anyone younger than she.

You may say that I was somewhat smitten with her. I just could not help it.

Her petticoats swished about us as I gradually brought her to her staggering climax. The room was filled with her guttural screeches and high pitched moans as she gripped my head and jerked herself savagely against my face as she 'came'.

I had never before witnessed such a powerful and deep physical reaction or emotional discharge in another human being in my entire life and here I was, a nineteen year old, suddenly observing a mature sexual woman wiping her dribbling cunt all over my face.

I felt as if I was indeed in heaven and my penis had once again recovered its strength for the next vigorous activity.

***

Losing my Virginity.

***

Miss Marie dragged me up the bed so that I was sprawled all over her.

"Let me kiss you David," she said.

Her use of my forename sent waves of lust through my loins. She regarded me as her equal; no longer were we tutor and pupil, at least not 'horizontally' to put it bluntly. We were lovers at that moment.

"You have handsome noble eyes David," she whispered, clearly moved by my tonguing skills.

I may not have been brilliant at French verbs, and their declensions, but I had recently discovered that I was naturally talented at orally pleasuring, I thought.

"I will allow you to enter me, please," said the 35 year old French woman, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction, desire and expectation.

She could see by my face that this was going to be my first time. She told me to take my time and I was just hoping that I didn't make a 'dog's dinner' of the sexual act.

To be frank I was incredibly nervous. I had visualised having sex with Rowena Armstrong many times but never thought, when faced with the real thing, that I would have second thoughts.

I needn't have been concerned as Miss Marie took control. She kissed me gently and licked my ears like a puppy. It tickled and we both laughed. I smiled at her as she parted her legs fully beneath me.

She then kissed me savagely in the 'French style' and I felt my penis jerk into the ramrod stiff rigid position. Soon she was guiding me into her and I felt the hot stickiness of her labia gripping my shaft as I slid up her. She squeezed her vaginal muscles in encouragement as I pushed further and further up inside her.

"You are so big, David," she said smiling like a Cheshire cat.

I wondered whether my penis was really so big, or whether she was just saying it to encourage me further.

With pure instinct I slid my erection backwards and forwards, up and down her slippery vagina. I established a slow easy tempo and she stared at me with almost 'loving' eyes.