Homework  

jj40vv 55M
7 posts
1/16/2006 2:45 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Homework

‘Home work’ I heard Helen say from across the room, as she lifted the book to cover a smile; we were still friends then, lovers anymore ? I was not so sure. Helen and I had done a lot of ‘home work’ together, not here, but upstairs in the bathroom. It was hard not to remember this. It explained the smirk. I put my head back into her diary, she turned to a page she had book marked.

At some stage Pat stuck her head round the door; the silence must have worried her. She was surprised that we were sitting apart; Helen was snuggled up on her Dad’s armchair, one foot over the armrest, the other planted on the floor. She was surprised that I hadn’t touched my beer, surprised that Helen was doing her homework, surprised that we didn’t have music playing. Families communicate in looks and postures; Pat wanted to know if her daughter had ‘spoken’ to me, Helen wasn’t going to say.

‘Don’t be late up,’ she said closing the door.

By now then I had reached December; I skimmed the pages looking for my name; it appeared less often than I would have liked. Twice I stopped to read passages of extraordinary frankness concerning sex. I said the dates out loud, Helen looked up from her book. She smiled. She still had one leg up on the arm of the chair. I glanced down the page, I was about to read out a couple of lines when I then noticed that she had her hand down the top of her school skirt; she was playing with herself. I watched surreptitiously the slow fidget, the steady turning round and round of her finger. I stiffened quickly. She caught my eye.

'Read this to me, would you,' she asked getting up and coming over to sit on the opposite end of the sofa.

My eye was directed to a line in a poem. I winced at the cover, looked at the title of the piece, saw a few of the words that were coming up and decided it was something I was prepared to read.

‘See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul.’

I read absentmindedly, not registering the words that burbled from my mouth. Helen undid the clasp around the top of her skirt and eased her knickers down a little way, just enough to reveal a line of curly pubic hair along the top of the elastic. She lay back and slid her fingers in between her legs. I became awkwardly entangled in my trousers. My erection was unfurling like a Cumberland sausage against my leg; it ached to be let out. I put the book in my left hand and reached in to straighten him up. For a while I read like this, my erection ramrod stiff against the closed zip of my trousers, the book sitting on the head of my penis that intermittently throbbed and bobbed. I watched as Helen tried to bring herself off, I'd never see her do this, never seen a girl masturbate; I was intrigued. I devoured Shere Hite’s ‘Hite Report: A nationwide study of female sexuality;’ the school-boy’s sex manual. This, however, was the real thing. We looked at each other and I moved over.

'Keep reading,' she said giving a nod towards the door that separated us from Helen’s parents. They’d be upstairs by now, I guessed. I looked for my line.

'If you stop reading they'll think we're up to something'.
‘Ah no--in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
Present the cross before my lifted eye,
Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see!

It will be then no crime to gaze on me.’

I put a leg up against the back rest of the sofa; we both now had a foot up and a foot on the floor. Helen eased her knickers off. Having nowhere to hide them she leant over and stuffed them in my trouser pocket.

'There's no much room in there' she said carefully pressing her hand against my erection. She then unzipped my flies and let him out. She leant back against the end of the sofa and asked me to continue.

‘What with?’ I said, clasping my hand around my boner. With some embarrassment having never been watched before, I take a firm grip of my joystick and begin to stroke it up and down.

‘See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
O Death all-eloquent! you only prove
What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love.’

As I read we gradually shuffled forward, our legs entangled. Helen lifted her skirt and giggled at the tent of green material we created under my flagpole. I found it harder and harder to read, between the couplets I had to look at Helen, gauge who she was getting on. Slowly we got closer until by hitching her buttocks into my lap she was able to press her labia against my stiffness. At the same time she reached around my prick and pulled it against her mons pubis as if she were pulling a pint behind a bar. She slid herself against it. I tried to read.

‘Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,

(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)

In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd.’

Helen bobbed her thighs higher trying to lift herself over him. I pulled the foreskin back, pressed him right down, found her hole and ease the head of my penis up and down until the head popped in. Helen bore down on me. It felt as if it would snap off at the stem.

'Are you coming to bed?' came Pat's call from the other side of the door.

I thought I’d snap. I thought I’d die. Helen tensed so much it felt as if I were being strangled round my neck, not my penis.

I garbled something from ‘Eloisa to Abelard’ as Helen yanked her hips back and I popped out. She tumbled deftly on the carpet and I rolled over to hid my dick amongst the cushions. Helen snatched the book of Alexander Pope poems from me. She was lying on the deep pile carpet on the floor, her naked bottom covered by her school dress, her head in a her book when her mother entered, saw me reading from Helen’s anonymous looking diary and her daughter correcting making pencil marks in a paperback. When Pat had gone I rolled onto my side, pushed my protuberance between the zip of my trousers and did myself up.

'Its time to come to bed. Helen you’ve got school in the morning.'

We ached to complete, ached to fuck. We'd have to go to bed. We didn’t say a word. If our relationship was supposed to be off, something had changed.


tonja8737 58M/51F
1 post
1/16/2006 5:31 pm

dang thats long my attention span not that long...but what i read was good


rm_PurryKitty2 48M/49F
9753 posts
1/16/2006 5:44 pm

Do tell us more!!

Purry {=}

Purry


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