The Lesson Plan Part Three Field Trip Episode One
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The Lesson Plan -- Part Three: Field Trip (Episode Three) free porn video
The Lesson Plan -- Part Three: Field Trip
Chapter Three
In your preparations for being Amy, the question of her sexuality had arisen
a couple of times. You had simply assumed that she was straight -- that she,
like most awkward teenage girls, was interested in boys but not experienced.
You knew that she'd never been kissed. Maybe she had a boy back in Seattle
that she thought was cute. You'd wondered how that had felt for her? What
was female attraction like? Was it like how you felt about Ellen, lusting
after her every curve? Should Amy be checking out boys in the same way to be
authentic?
You'd tried to talk to Ellen about it in one of your tutorial sessions, but
as usual she'd shut it down. She didn't like to think about sex, it seemed.
So you'd done what you did with most things to do with Amy -- you'd tried to
study Melanie and see what she did. And what she did, as far as you could
see, was nothing. No sly looks at cute bottoms in tight pants or bare
forearms. She didn't, as far as you could overhear, talk about boys much if
at all. So that was settled. Amy was the same as Melanie. Straight and shy.
"No," you answer honestly, turning your back on Melanie to fold up your
dress. "Do you?" you ask, packing the dress carefully in your bag, along
with your still-warm bra and pantyhose. "Have a boyfriend?"
"Here's your cocoa," Melanie replies, ducking your question and handing you
the other mug before she sits down on the bed. She crosses her legs yoga
style, effortlessly limber. "When I was little I think I wanted Martin to be
my boyfriend," she says, holding her mug in two hands and taking a drink.
"He's gay, right?" You say, sitting down at the opposite end of the bed. You
know your own body well enough not to try to sit in the same way, so you
stretch your legs out instead, showing off your cute painted toes. "I mean,
he's nice."
She laughs. "He's totally gay. I mean, I don't think he's kissed a boy
either, but yeah, he's a total cliche."
"We all are," you say.
"Totally."
"I think it's cool that your mom's a lesbian," you say.
"I do too," she replies. "Her girlfriend is really nice too."
"I wish my mom would find someone," you say, just as you realize it's true.
"How long has she been divorced?" she asks, finishing her cocoa.
"Six years I think. It's just been the two of us for forever," you say,
drinking your own hot chocolate. It tastes nice. Sweet and warm and you feel
it all the way down your throat. You can't remember the last time you talk
about this. Maybe you've never talked about it. "My dad just walked out,"
you say. You've never said that to anyone.
"Mine was cheating on my mom."
"I miss him," you say, feeling hot tears welling up in your eyes.
"I miss mine too," Melanie says. "Hey... it's okay." She sets down her mug
and crawls across the bed to give you a hug.
"I'm sorry," you say, unable to stop. You're voice cracking. You close your
eyes and feel the tears dropping. You know your makeup is fucked. You don't
trust yourself to speak. You just let yourself be hugged, and breathe.
"Shh, it's okay," Melanie whispers, and you feel her hand touching your head
through the curls of your wig. "I cry a ton." She confesses, giving you a
squeeze. "It's easier to pretend to be okay, isn't it? Like you're somebody
else?"
You nod. You wish you were someone else because you hate being you.
"I should," you clear your throat. Cheekbones, open throat, breathe. "I
should take my makeup off." You say with a smile. Melanie surprises you by
kissing you on the forehead and letting you go. You take your bag into the
bathroom and leave her on the bed.
You take a deep breath and lock the door, wiping off the streaky mascara and
eye shadow. The red lipstick has faded and you wipe it off gladly along with
the foundation and powder. Even without makeup the mask is flawless -- Amy
is fresh faced with great skin. Her eyes are red from crying. Her wig is a
little messed up. You pull it off and re-apply the tape, brushing it in your
hand and tugging it back into place. You tie it up with a scrunchie and hope
that it will hold during the night. You pack up all your toiletries and are
about to leave the bathroom when you realize you're not horny, for the first
time dressed as Amy. You are just... just a girl. Just you.
Melanie has climbed into bed when you step back into her room, the fairy
lights the only source of yellow glow in the room.
"Hey, Melanie," you ask in a breathy whisper. "Where do you want me to
sleep?"
"Just in with me," she replies sleepily. "We don't have a spare room. I
promise I won't snore."
Your heart starts to beat faster. You take a breath.
"If you're sure," you say, but she's already scooching over under the
covers. The bed is a double -- plenty space. You climb in beside her and
cling to the other edge, away from her. You feel the heat of her, the
presence of her beside you. You're mindful of her long smooth bare legs, her
arms and fingers. You turn and she's facing you, her head on her pillow, her
beautiful face framed by her hair in the soft glow of the fairy lights.
Magical.
"You look pretty without makeup," she says. "Do you always wear so much?"
"Thanks," you say. You wish you could blush. "Yeah I always do. I like doing
it."
"I'm no good at it," she says.
"You're great," you say.
"How do you know?" she replies with a smile. "You've never seen me with
any?"
Shit.
"I just mean... " you struggle to find the words and Melanie giggles. She
shifts under the covers and moves closer.
"I'm glad you wanted to come over tonight. I'm sorry about my friends."
"That's okay, they're lovely. I'm glad I came over tonight too."
"Amy. Can I ask you something?" Her face is so close now you can feel the
warmth of her breath while she talks. You've got nowhere to back off to.
"Of course," you say, your eyes meeting hers. "Sure."
"Did your zip really get stuck this afternoon?"
You hesitate, trying to think of the right thing to say. You remember her
hands on your bare skin, how she looked in that dress. You trembled as she
touched you, the most intimate and sexy thing to have ever happened to you.
A fantasy come true. Your gaze leaves hers and you look down at her lips for
a fraction of a second, watching them curl up into a smile.
She leans forward in the bed and kisses you, a soft gentle peck with closed
lips against yours. It's so tender you're almost not sure what happened.
What is happening? A warm hand finds your slender waist under the covers and
rests itself there over the thick flannel of your pyjamas. You move your own
hand to find her middle, but touch her hips instead, your fingers curling
over the thin fabric of her shorts to the soft roundness of her ass.
She kisses you again, stronger, firmer with parting lips. Needy, desperate
lips that respond to your own. She doesn't flinch from your touch, and
instead responds by sliding her own hand down over the curve of your fake
hips to the padding of your backside.
You kiss forever, hands frozen, lips seeking and exploring. Tasting. Eyes
closed. Feeding off each other. You tremble. You stiffen.
"I tried to tell you I was Bi," she whispered in the dim light. "Like you."
"How did you know?" you ask, improvising.
"Please," she says. "You're totally obvious. You've been staring all day."
You dare yourself to move closer, your bodies touching as you kiss again and
again. You feel her warmth, smell her fragrance, transfer the softness of
her through your fingers.
"I've never done this before," you whisper.
"I have," Melanie confesses with a sly grin. "I like your kisses."
You are completely on your own now. No lessons have prepared you for this.
You don't know what to do, except two thoughts are fighting in your brain.
You want to do everything, and you don't want Melanie to find out anything.
"I like your kisses too. What have you done before?" you ask, your voice a
gentle whisper. You slowly move your fingertips resting on her plump ass,
stroking her through her shorts.
"You're trembling," she says, like she would to a kitten, ducking the
question. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to."
You make out some more, Melanie using her tongue more and more as she feels
bolder. You copy her, trying to react authentically and using her as a
template on how to behave. Mirroring her. As she deepens a kiss she slides
her hand from your ass to up and under your vest top -- her small hand
snaking up the smooth skin of your back.
You wait before copying, excited to get your hands closer to her gorgeous
tits. Unsure about what to do next. How far is this going to go? How far can
it go? If you weren't feeling horny before, that feeling has erupted back
with hot urgency. You're a few layers away from being discovered, but still,
you squeeze your thighs together. You want to reach out with your legs to
find hers, but you don't know if that would be okay?
You get your answer a moment later when she beats you to it, and you feel
her leg against yours, rubbing against you, moving on top of you through the
thick flannel of your pyjama bottoms.
"Aren't you hot in those?" she asks between kisses.
"I'm hot under the covers," you reply.
"Me too," she grins, kicking down the duvet into a pile at your feet before
embracing again on top of the sheet. Her skin glows in the fairy light, her
flimsy sleepwear is almost transparent. You slide a tentative hand up under
her top and stroke her skin, just below the swell of her breasts. You smile
as she copies you, her eyes sparkling. Your fingertips make contact with the
soft fullness of her and you almost explode. She raises her eyebrows, daring
you to carry on as she moves her own hand over the top of your own fake
tits. She squeezes, gently and you take a deep breath and do the same,
feeling the fullness of her breast in your hand and her stiff prominent
nipple.
You part your lips, letting out a gasp as your trapped cock stiffens. She
takes this as encouragement to play with your tits, and starts to pinch and
squeeze you. You smile and lift up her top and feel her moving to help you,
staring as you undress her and cast the flimsy top aside. The first real
tits you've seen, in the flesh. "You're so pretty," you say in a whisper but
you're cut off by Melanie.
"Your turn!" she commands, tugging at your top and yanking it off. Before
you can say or do anything she hugs you again, squeezing herself against you
and kissing you. "That feels so nice," she gasps after she removes her
tongue from your mouth. "I love your boobs, they're so perfect."
"I'm jealous of yours," you admit, your hand finding her warm flesh again.
You're struck with an idea. "Can I kiss them?" you ask.
"Okay," she giggles and you scoot down the bed a little. You hungrily take
her nipple in your mouth and lick it, listening to her gasp and moan as you
suck on her. You're rock hard now, and hope she won't notice you reaching
down between your legs, giving your trapped cock a squeeze as you suck on
her beautiful tits.
You feel her hand near yours and panic, hoping she's not going to make you
take off your pyjama pants, but her destination is somewhere else -- between
her own thighs. You feel her start to buck a little, and you reach out to
touch the bare skin there as you mouth continues to suckle.
"You can touch me ... there," she says, breathless. You're in shock as she
takes your hand in hers and pushes it between her legs. It's hot as she
parts her thighs, and you feel the flimsy shorts she has on barely covering
her. You move your fingers gingerly under the bottom of her shorts and feel
her, slick and warm and sticky and different. You look up at her and slide
your finger over the warmth of her slit, familiarizing yourself with her.
It's so strange. So welcoming. You push inside with a single finger, into
the weird enclosing warmth of her and she gasps, her breath catching.
"Is that okay?" you ask, looking down but not seeing anything. She nods,
eyes closed and lies back. You don't know what to do, what she wants. You
don't know anything about this part at all. Amy would. Amy would know what
to do. You think back to what you've read. What you've watched in videos,
confused and jealous. You move your finger in and out, slowly, marveling at
the effect it has on her. Her thighs part further, welcoming you in. You
decide to explore, your thumb grazing over soft hairs on her mound, finding
the top of her slit and searching for that special nub you've heard about.
After a few tentative strokes, you find it and she moans loudly, her body
writhing under your fingers.
"Oh Amy!" She moans, and you feel her reaching out for you, grabbing for
your breast and squeezing it lustily. "Keep going!"
You're painfully hard now, cock pulsing with pent-up excitement. You try not
to think of the panties you're wearing, or how hot Melanie is, or Ellen in
the robe you caught her in all those weeks ago. You slide up the bed and
kiss Melanie again, your arm at full stretch as you finger her.
"I want to do you," she says, and she moves quickly to your pyjama bottoms,
her hand snaking quickly down the front to rest over the top of your
panties.
"You don't have to!" you almost squeal, pressing your thighs together. Fuck
fuck fuck.
Your cock begs to be touched. No!
"I want to!" she grins, teasing the trim of your panties with her finger,
halfway between ticklish and erotic. "Take off your pyjamas. I want to," she
says again. She mercifully pulls her hand out but starts to tug down your
pyjama bottoms, pulling them over your padded backside. Shit. If she looks
down...!
You hear the front door slam. You must have missed the sound of a car.
Kate's home. Fuck. Fuck. You withdraw your finger and scramble to fix
yourselves and the bed, pulling up your pyjamas and your tops and neatening
up the duvet.
You lie together, breathing heavily in the darkness for what seems like
forever. You listen to the creaking, the moving, the stairs, her bedroom.
Silence.
"Good night," Melanie says breaking the silence with a final kiss, hugging
you close and pressing your body against hers. She lets go, and lies back.
You follow suit, lying next to her, listening to her breathe. Watching her
chest rise and fall. Thinking of the warm wet slit between her legs that
felt so nice.
It's a long time before you sleep, your mind is whirring at a million miles
an hour. Processing today -- the mall, the boy, the dress, the sleep-over,
the pizza guy, the kissing. Ellen is proud of you. You're proud of you. You
didn't fuck up. You remembered everything you'd learned and you'd gotten
away with it. You listen to Kate moving around the house, turning off lights
and preparing for bed. You listen to Melanie's breath, watching her sleep.
So close, yet so far away. Under the covers, you reach out and find her hand
and take it. She smiles and you fall asleep.
You don't sleep well. You are up and awake before anyone else, and you slip
out of bed as quietly as you can, taking your bag with you. In the bathroom
you lock the door and check your face. Your wig hasn't moved too much, but
you take it off anyway, fix the tape and brush it out. Your mask has stuck
in place, thankfully. You wash quickly and refix your wig, spraying yourself
with girl's deodorant and cleaning your teeth. You take off your panties
and girdle and clean yourself up as best you can before swapping out a new
sanitary napkin, pulling the girdle back into place and putting on a new
pair of panties and your pantyhose. You pull off the vest top and slip back
into your bra, and step once again into your party dress, folding up your
soft sleepwear.
The house is quiet. It's only nine in the morning. You make your way
downstairs to drink a glass of water and are surprised to see Kate there
already, in her fluffy white dressing gown drinking from a large mug of
coffee.
"Hey Amy," she says brightly.
"Good morning ma'am" you reply, helping yourself to a glass and some water.
"Did you have fun last night?" she asks.
"So much," you say.
It's later when you're at home that you finally masturbate, stroking your
cock with long lazy attention. You think about the day that's gone, about
the relief of changing back at Ellen's house while she asked you about last
night. You took off your dress and underwear, your wig and mask, your tits
and ass and had juice while you did your laundry. You talked about pizza and
cocoa and didn't talk about kissing or pizza boys or Naomi, or the bed. You
left Amy at Ellen's, in her own suitcase in her spare room, and walked home.
Focusing on putting one foot next to the other, not in front. Not moving
your hips, but moving from your shoulders. You clear your throat and let
your voice drop down. You miss being her already.
"Call me when you get home," Melanie had made you promise, kissing you on
the lips one last time before you left.
You take her panties from your bag and hold them while you cum.
Epilogue
You arrive early, and help set out the chairs. It's after hours and you like
how the school feels: dark and empty and full of possibilities. You love
drama club because you get to spend more time with Ellen. You love it
because you get to observe everyone else. You're excited because tonight is
the first time since the weekend you'll see everyone. You're excited because
you know they'll ignore you, but they might talk about Amy. You want them to
talk about Amy.
Amy and Melanie have been texting, on the specially bought phone you
prepared. It's been fun, keeping up Amy's inner life while not being her.
You catch yourself changing into her when you shouldn't -- sitting like her,
or feeling your body relaxing into her. It's been so hard since the weekend.
You miss being her more than ever.
You risked a call with Melanie last night, and it felt good to use Amy's
voice again. You talked for an hour about nothing at all, and then briefly
about how much you missed her lips. In class you try not to stare, to think
about the body you've seen under her clothes. She's been ignoring you of
course, which is even more thrilling.
You're also excited because something's been weird with Miss Bennet. You
don't know what it is but she's been less herself lately. Just since monday.
It's hard to put your finger on. She's not acknowledged you, and she's been
different with everyone. She wore one of your favourite dresses and it
didn't look right somehow. Like she'd lost weight maybe? Which you knew was
impossible. You were excited to see her tonight because you wanted to be
seen by her.
You sit quietly as everyone arrives, talking excitedly and gossiping. You
strain to hear what people are saying. Martin arrives with Fiona and Melanie
and Natalie and they all sit far away from you, not giving you a second
glance. They have the same conversation, with the same dynamic, with the
same jokes. You hear the word pizza and you're sure they're talking about
you. Melanie stays silent and pulls out her phone. In your bag, Amy's phone
vibrates.
Miss Bennet arrives, in an outfit you've never seen before: Blue mom jeans
and a peach peasant blouse. Her backside looks flatter in those jeans than
you've seen it before. Her hair is slightly different than Saturday - it's
longer. The color is different. Something is very, very wrong. She takes the
club differently, and everything is different and awful and you know in your
heart that the thing you fear more than anything has happened.
At the break you go up to her, something she told you never to do, and say
'hello' and you ask the question: "Are we still ok for our lesson tomorrow
night." You see it before she says a word: The flicker of uncertainty. The
confusion. Your heart sinks. You feel your world ending.
Ellen Bennet is someone else.
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