Teaching Carol - S01 E23

Story 8 months ago

Teaching Carol - S01 E23

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 23

There were a few other people in or near the plexiglas shelter. They all looked ghostly in the dim light from the street lamp. Carol pretended not to know me. She was standing in front of the bench, near one wall of the shelter and when I sat down next to her she moved closer to the wall to make room for me without actually acknowledging me in any way. From this I deduced that I was to be a stranger.

And when, under cover of darkness, I slipped my hand under her coat and lightly brushed the back of her knee, and she reached down and pushed my hand away before shuffling closer to the wall, I knew I was right. I also knew that I wasn't supposed to take no for an answer and slid over even closer to her than before. She immediately moved away again, but her shoulder was now against the plexiglass. She had nowhere else to go unless she wanted to run away—which of course she didn't.

So when I slid my hand back under her coat she grabbed my wrist and there was a silent tug-of-war as she pretended to try to keep me from going any further. There were people sitting next to me on the bench and standing in front of us as well, some of them talking among themselves, but they remained oblivious as the silent struggle in the dark went on.

A bus came, people got off, some people got on, and it left again. Some of the others stayed, waiting for a different bus. During the commotion I used my free hand to pluck hers from my wrist and in no time had run my hand up the back of her thigh and onto her behind. She gasped as I did so but it was covered by the noise of the departing bus.

Unexpectedly, one of the people getting off the bus was a fellow student-teacher of Carol's, a somewhat gangly woman with blonde hair who was also, it seemed, quite talkative, or at least she was that night. She recognized Carol even in the dim light, walked up to her and immediately launched into a monologue about the movie she'd just seen.

It was fortunate that Carol didn't have to do much more than nod periodically, as I—the stranger sitting unacknowledged at her side, staring straight ahead and apparently lost in my own thoughts—was now fondling her behind through her panties, my arm hidden from view behind her. I couldn't see her face, of course, but I was sure it had turned a deep red. This was probably not what Carol had had in mind when she'd asked me to meet her there, but I, at least, was enjoying it.

When she felt my hand slipping between her legs she tried to clamp her thighs together, but realized she couldn't struggle too obviously without being given away and eventually she surrendered, allowing me to cup and squeeze her sex though her panties while she pretended to be fascinated by the conversation. She continued to do so even when I pulled the crotch of her panties aside and the tip of my middle finger sought and found her clitoris and began to stroke it.

But when that same finger suddenly slid all the way inside her, she couldn't help herself and gasped out loud. Her friend, interrupted in the middle of describing a favorite scene, inquired what was the matter. Carol stuttered something about a hot-plate possibly left on in her room and sped off, leaving me barely enough time to withdraw my hand and place it at my side as if it had been there from the beginning. I watched as she yanked open the dormitory door and hurried inside.

I couldn't follow her immediately, of course. I had to wait until her friend had gone away before getting up, as if tired of waiting for my bus, and walking casually towards the dormitory.

To my surprise she was waiting just out of sight inside the door. She was angry and immediately began castigating me in a furious whisper about the need to keep our activities private. I would have mentioned the fact that it was her idea to meet at the bus stop but she didn't give me a chance, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the stairs as she continued to upbraid me.

I assumed she was leading me downstairs towards the basement instead of upstairs to her room so she could yell at me more freely, as that floor was mostly used for storage. So when we got to the bottom of the stairs I was astonished when she turned her back on me and, still telling me how thoughtless and selfish I was, dropped her purse to the floor, pulled up the back of her coat and skirt—revealing a pair of white panties with blue ruffled trim and decorated with pink birthday cakes—then bent over, her coat and skirt now up over her hips, and supported herself by placing her hands on the third step and spreading her feet apart.

She stopped talking and with a grunt of annoyance reached down for her purse, pulled it up to where she could open it, found the camera and held it out to me, all without straightening from her position. Her glasses fell off as I took the camera from her and she grabbed them and slapped them on top of her purse, as if they were the cause of her exasperation, before returning to her position. "Hurry up!" she said, glaring at me upside down from between her knees, her short black hair hanging straight down.

It was something I should have realized almost from the beginning, but it was just becoming obvious to me now: the combination of anger and submissiveness was highly erotic for her. With that in mind I took a few shots, then just stood there, making her wait in that uncomfortable position. We stared at each other—it was almost a contest except that I had the advantage of being upright while she was bent over with the blood rushing to her head—and finally she spoke first.

"What?"

"Touch yourself."

She frowned at me (upside down it looked like a smile, of course), gave an exasperated sigh, and grumbled, "All right, all right." Then she reached up with one hand and actually managed to give me the finger while beginning to stroke herself through the crotch of her panties, still glaring at me. I took a few shots, including some close-ups of her face, now dark red and grim, as if she were mad at herself for being so aroused.

After a while I said, "Pull your panties down and keep going."

"Oh!" she huffed angrily, and straightened just enough to free both hands momentarily while she yanked her panties half-way down her thighs, then returned to supporting herself with her left hand while stroking herself with the fingers of her right.

I watched closely until she fell into the rhythm of what she was doing and closed her eyes. As silently as possible I put the camera down on the floor and unbuckled my belt, sliding it noiselessly out of its loops and doubling it in my hand as I walked toward her. I waited until I was sure she was well aroused—her finger, glistening with her juices, sliding rapidly between the lips of her vagina, her legs shaking slightly with the strain of holding her unnatural position—before raising the belt and giving her a quick, vicious slash across her naked behind.

Her reaction, not surprisingly, was instantaneous.

"OW!" she yelled, loudly enough to be heard on the top floor of the dorm, I was sure. Her body snapped upright as she whirled to face me. "You BASTARD!" she yelled again... and attacked me.

I let her push me against the nearest wall and take a few ineffectual swipes at me, cursing under her breath the whole time—"... bastard son-of-a-bitch that really hurt, you asshole... " etc.—before grabbing her wrists and twisting her around so that her arms were behind her back. I used my belt to secure them there despite her struggles, then spun her again and pressed her back against the wall. She continued to curse me—"... let me go, you son-of-a bitch, get your hands off me... "—as I unbuttoned her coat and reached in with both hands to squeeze her breasts, roughly, through her blouse.

She gasped and fell silent, panting and glaring at me as if she hated me, as I continued to fondle her. Even when I reached under her skirt and jerked her panties the rest of the way down to the floor, lifted one of her boots just enough to free it from her panties and spread her legs apart, lifted her skirt and tucked it into her waistband, leaving her completely exposed—she said nothing, other than with her eyes. But when I started to unfasten my pants and pull my zipper down, she hissed, "Don't you dare... "

"What?" I replied, as I lowered my pants and underwear and stood with my palms against the wall on either side of her shoulders, my erection pressing against the dark thatch of curly hair between her legs. "Don't what?" I asked insolently, my eyes close to hers.

"Don't you dare... " Her eyes suddenly closed for a moment, and when she opened them again the expression in them was somewhat crazed. Her voice was a cracked whisper: "Don't you dare... fuck me." Then her head darted forward and she kissed me, her tongue pushing into my mouth, before falling back against the wall and thrusting her hips forward against mine.