Teaching Carol - S01 E08

Story 8 months ago

Teaching Carol - S01 E08

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 8

Below the table.

She continued to look back at me in complete bewilderment for several seconds. I could tell when she got it because she suddenly began breathing quickly through her mouth. I waited.

This time there was no argument, silent or otherwise. She was sitting with her back to the rest of the room, and first she looked carefully around her. Serving time for lunch was nearly over, and the area we were sitting in was pretty much deserted. Even so, she made a business of 'accidentally' knocking her spoon to the floor and bending down as if to pick it up...before crawling under the table.

I pushed my chair back slightly and spread my knees apart, holding the carrot stick between my thighs where she would be sure to see it. And in a moment, there was her cute little owl-face looking up at me from between my knees. She reached up to take the carrot stick, but I pushed her hand away and held the carrot stick in front of her mouth. She understood immediately and opened her mouth, allowing me to place the carrot inside it before she bit off a chunk.

I fed her the entire meal that way: I would cut off a bite of turkey-roll, spread it with cranberry jelly, then place it in her open mouth with my fingers; I would roll up a leaf of lettuce, slippery with oil and vinegar dressing, fold it over and feed it to her; I would pick up a dollop of mashed potatoes and butter with two fingers and let her lick it off them; I would hold the glass of water under the table for her to sip; if things got messy, as they sometimes did, I would wipe off her mouth with a napkin. With her owl-glasses on, it was like feeding a baby bird.

When the tray was nearly empty, I looked down and silently asked if she'd had enough. She nodded, and actually smiled up at me—she'd enjoyed being fed that way.

But she should have known that wasn't the end.

I indicated, by twirling my finger, that she was to turn around. Her smile faded somewhat, but she did what I asked. When she was facing the other way I reached down, took her by the hips and tugged gently, indicating that I wanted her to back up. Which she did, crawling slowly backwards until her legs were under my chair and her behind directly in front of it.

When I had been feeding her I'd been fairly careful about not looking down too often, for fear of attracting attention; I'd leaned on one elbow and kept my eyes on the tray as if concentrating on my meal, but was still able to see her face in my peripheral vision, and I would glance down to make sure that the food was getting into her mouth. I used the same technique now—even though there was hardly any food left on the tray—as I reached down and peeled back the flaps of her skirt.

Her panties were thin cotton in the same shade of blue as her shirt, and were printed with the outlines of daisies in yellow. Very cute, I thought, as I lowered my right hand and began to fondle her behind. I heard a quick gasp when my hand made contact, but nothing further. Good.

I had a couple of books with me so I pulled one over with my free hand, and opened it at random. Pretending to read gave me an excuse to look down continuously, so I could enjoy seeing what I was doing. I leaned my elbows on my thighs so I could have both hands under the table, and massaged both cheeks of her behind for a while.

Carol, of course, wouldn't dare make a sound, even if she wanted to, but I could hear her breath becoming more ragged, especially when I slipped the fingers of both hands under the elastic of her panties and began pulling them up so that they put pressure between her legs. I did this rhythmically for a while—tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing—and I could tell it was making her crazy. But when I bunched them tightly in my left hand and slipped my right hand between her legs she almost started bucking like a horse.

I stayed right with her though, massaging her pussy through her now wet panties while keeping them pulled tight between her buttocks. Her balance suddenly seemed a little unsteady, and it wasn't until I heard her muffled whimpers that I realized she had lifted one hand to cover her mouth.

This was probably a good idea, considering what I had in mind to do next.

When I decided she was well and truly aroused...I stopped. I let go of her panties and withdrew my hand from between her legs. Then I reached up and slowly pulled her panties down. Her gasp was audible, even with her hand over her mouth. She even flailed one hand behind her for a moment, as if trying to stop me, but quickly subsided, knowing there was nothing she could do.

It was really something to be sitting in the Dining Hall and have a woman's naked behind between my legs. For a while I was content to stroke it—delicately, sensuously—with the tips of my fingers. Then I began to draw one finger lightly through the area between her buttocks, over and over. This was actually a distraction: at the same time I was dipping the same finger of the other hand into the leftover oil and vinegar dressing in the bottom of her salad bowl. I coated it as thoroughly as I could and then switched fingers without missing a stroke.

If she felt the difference between the dry finger and the oily finger she didn't acknowledge it in any way. But when that finger began to probe her anal passage—sliding a little way in, withdrawing slightly, then pushing in even deeper—she actually took her hand off her mouth, turned her head and whispered "No!" as loudly as she dared.

I, of course, not only ignored her but in one stroke wormed my finger all the way in, to the last knuckle. She started to cry out - "OH!" - but clapped her hand back over her mouth.

This was obviously a new experience for her.