Accident Prone Linda goes to school
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Genevieve Goes Back To School free porn video
“The fat pig attacked me!”
The girl’s voice was firm but her tone flat. Her eyes stared blankly across the water to where the grey horizon was blurring the sea and sky. The boy started, turned towards her sharply, eyes focused on her, questioning.
“What do you mean? Who did?” The words tumbled out anxiously, his concern etched across his features.
“Chapoutier, the math prof.”
“What!? What’d he do to you? Is this why you’ve been off school?”
Genevieve heaved a deep sigh and was silent for a long, long moment. The young couple were sitting together on a large, flat rock on the beach in the lee of the walls of the old city. The heat the ancient stone had soaked up during the sunny day was now pulsing out into the cooling twilight air and warming their backs. Before them lay the hard packed strand, the sea, and, where it merged into the sky, a grey-blue mist tinged with pink from the fading sunset.
She stretched her hands out along her legs then lowered her eyes to stare at them. She was wearing jeans today, not the school skirt she usually wore when she met Paul out here, the skirt he would slide his hand under. At last, she continued.
“He asked me to stay after school Monday. Said he needed to talk to me about graduation and my math scores.”
“But you’re good at math,” said Paul.
“I know, right. It was really strange. And he said to come to his office forty-five minutes after school which was strange. So when I went up the place was deserted. He opened his door like he was waiting there and when I went in he locked it behind us.”
Paul frowned and shifted uncomfortably. “That’s really weird, creepy, in fact.”
“I was starting to get nervous and when he said my math was barely scraping by, I started to get scared. I knew that was a lie. He said he’d help me with extra tuition after school when we’re back from Easter break. He was breathing really heavy and I was beginning to freak out. He said we could make a start right then. Get to know each other better. He hoped I would be ‘nice’ to him.”
“Nice to him! What the hell did he mean by that?” Paul snapped.
“What the fuck do you think, Paul?” Genevieve shouted. He had never heard her swear before.
“Right after that, he was all over me, the filthy pervert. Grabbing me, trying to kiss me with his sandpaper whiskers and breathing garlic and stale tobacco on me.”
Paul reached out a reassuring hand and patted her thigh. He felt her stiffen at his touch and awkwardly dropped his hand to the rock beside her.
“What did he do?” Paul asked, anxiety flooding through him.
“It was horrible. I can’t say it all. But he didn’t get what he was after! I felt really scared though and I feel violated.”
“The bastard!” Paul fumed. “How’d you get away?”
“He was trying to push me backwards and I overbalanced. My knee came up and caught him in the groin. He went down like he’d been shot and rolled around the floor squealing like a stuck pig. I stomped on him and ran. Luckily he’d left the key in the door.”
“Did you tell anyone?” asked Paul.
“Yeah, and a fat lot of fucking use that was! I got home, told Mama I was sick and just laid on my bed and cried. But in the morning I thought I had to do something. I couldn’t let him get away with it. Who knows how many other girls he’s tried it on with.”
“Did you tell your Mama?”
“No. She has so much on her plate since Papa died, with the younger ones. I didn’t want to worry her. And… I just couldn’t. No, I telephoned the Institute and said I needed to meet with the Father Director over a very serious matter. The secretary didn’t help much at first. She wanted to know what it was about. I told her it was personal but could involve the police. She made the appointment, reluctantly.
“The Father Director was useless. Typical Church bureaucrat. I told him everything and that Chapoutier could be doing this to other girls. He turned beet red and started huffing and puffing. I thought he might explode. ‘It’s not possible! Monsieur Chapoutier has taught here for twenty-five years. He’s married with five children. How can you accuse him of such a thing? You’ll bring disgrace on yourself and your family... ‘ And on and on like that. I got up and walked out. I couldn’t stand it. But I haven’t gone back.”
“Well, it’s only been a couple of days and today’s the last day of term,” said Paul. “We’ve got a two-week break to figure things out. Then the summer term and we graduate. We’ll be out of there.”
Genevieve continued to stare blankly at her hands. “They should pay. Chapoutier should pay and the Institute should pay. They shouldn’t be able to get away with it.”
Paul reached out his hand and took hers. “Come on, let’s climb up to the lookout.”
**
The lookout was a stone observation post set in an angle of the ramparts atop the city wall. It offered an unobstructed 180-degree panorama across the seascape that could calm, enchant, or thrill the soul with the shifting moods of the weather. It also gave a clear view along the ramparts in both directions. For Paul and Genevieve, it had become their special place. It was shaded from view and they could see other walkers approaching at a distance. Here they had become intimate, exploring each other’s bodies and reveling in their discoveries.
The young couple made their way up the worn stone steps that ran from the base of the wall to the rampart walkway. Genevieve led the way. Paul watched the sway of her hips as she climbed and admired how tightly her jeans gripped her firm ass cheeks. He wondered why she’d worn the jeans today and not the skirt which she usually did. Probably because she didn’t go to the school today, he thought.
For the first time since they’d been going together, he didn’t know how to behave towards her. He was shocked at what she’d told him. He felt angry at Chapoutier and the director and solicitous towards Genevieve. He wanted to comfort her, and protect her… yet at the same time, the image of Chapoutier trying to force himself on Genny had invaded his imagination and refused to be driven out. That fat, creepy pervert had attempted what he himself wanted but had not yet enjoyed.
The thought filled him with desire, well let’s be honest, he thought, with lust for Genevieve. He wanted her – urgently – to take her eagerly and satisfy himself inside her. The swelling in his pants that, climbing the steps behind her, he adjusted to make less obvious bore witness to his feeling. It troubled him and stirred a conflict in his chest that constricted his breath, making him gasp on the climb.
“You ok?” Genevieve asked.
“Yeah, just… I dunno. My chest. I feel like an old smoker,” he mumbled.
**
As he labored up the steps to the top of the rampart wall, Paul’s images of the times he and Genny had shared at the lookout point crowded into his imagination. The first tentative, awkward kisses, until their lips found a way to blend together and melt into each other. The first tongue-tip exploration of her lips, sliding slowly back and forth, until the tip of her tongue met his and they danced together until they broke the kiss, both laughing at the sheer joy of discovery.
Playful bouts of fencing with their tongues evolved into longer, deeper kisses. They found they could kiss for ages until they both felt transported. Paul felt Genny’s body relax completely inside his embrace. Then his body felt it was melting into hers. At times they were perfectly still, wrapped in each other’s arms. The tongue of one deep in the mouth of the other, just breathing together in unison. It was magical.
He’d heard his more precocious classmates talk about getting it on with girls as if it were a challenge, an obstacle course with barriers to get past. Feeling up her breasts, first over then under her bra. Getting a hand up her skirt then inside her panties. But for Paul with Genny, it had been nothing like that. Their kissing left him intoxicated and as he floated on an erotic high his hands moved over her body without any direction from him. His palm cupped the swell of her breast through her blouse and discovered the small, firm pebble of her nipple pressing up through the thin fabric of her bra.
His thumb moved over the taut, little bump and circled around it. Genny stiffened, uttered a little gasp, and her arm around him tightened. He felt the button press harder through the fabric against his caressing thumb. Suddenly Genny pushed him back to make space and said, “Wait!”
Paul had looked confused in that moment. Genny was panting audibly and her cheeks were flushed. Wasn’t she liking it? Genny reached up and started unbuttoning her blouse. She reached inside, pulling her bra over one of her breasts.
“Touch me, Paul,” she said. “I want to feel your skin on mine right there,” as she guided his hand back to her.
He thought his hand must have been made for this as he cupped her naked breast for the first time, felt its firmness, the milky smooth skin so soft to his touch and the small hard nut growing out from it. Shivers of electricity ran through his body and his vision misted over. Without thinking his head dropped to her chest and he took her nipple into his mouth. She gasped, he sucked. It was the first nipple he had ever sucked on, or at least the first he remembered.
He bathed it with his tongue then nibbled on it gently. She uttered a moan from deep within and her head fell back. Paul felt her go limp against his chest as the sensations coursed through her, every further nip producing a deeper moan. Below, he was vaguely aware through his haze of arousal that Genny’s thighs were tightening and loosening in rhythm with her breathing.
Energy was flowing into him through Genny’s nipple like milk without matter, like some divine ambrosia. He felt it feeding the cells of his body until they tingled and quivered with life-seeking urgency. Gradually it pooled together, tributaries flowing into streams, streams into rivers, all converging in a spring tide rush into his erect penis which could no longer contain the flood.
He felt it coming. He twisted to press his crotch against Genny’s flexing thighs, holding her against him in a vise-like grip and sucking on her nipple as if life itself depended on it. He tried not to cry out loud. Half-gagged by Genny’s breast he grunted, groaned, and snorted like a stag in rut, which to some extent he was. The flood tide pumped and pulsed out of him as he thrust himself against Genny’s thigh until at last, it subsided.
Paul lay panting against her. His body was suffused with a warm afterglow of pleasure, tempered now by a rising flush of embarrassment.
“What just happened?” Genny said, a questioning expression on her face but her eyes bright and shining within it.
“Umm… dunno… “responded Paul. “That is… well, an accident.”
“Oh!” said Genny, eyes widening and eyebrows raised. Then she giggled lightly and asked, “Did you make a mess?”
Paul blushed up past his ears. He caught Genny’s eye for an instant, then looked down and buried his face in her neck.
“Aww!” she said, stroking his hair. Then, “Ahh!” and, “Oh, oh yes!” as he began to kiss and nibble her there. It seemed to Paul that women were sensitive everywhere. At least Genny was, and he was in awe.
**
During their next embrace, Paul found the hand he’d rested on Genny’s knee being drawn magnetically upwards along her thigh under her school uniform skirt. Her skin was shockingly smooth to his touch while beneath it he felt the taut muscles of the track athlete that she was. The precocious boys said that girls pressed their legs tight together when you first put a hand up their skirt. Genny spread hers a little wider, inviting him upward.
She intoxicated him. He had never touched the shrine of a girl’s sex before. But he was in no hurry to reach that goal, to rush to attain what the precocious boys thought of as an ‘interim objective’ in their campaign strategy to conquer the territory of girls’ bodies. For Paul, there was so much to savor along the way.
Her inner thighs just below her panties, for example. They were so much softer, fleshier than lower down. He stroked, pressed, squeezed, and kneaded gently. He marveled at the texture and at the response his touches drew from Genny. He felt a light but insistent pressure from her hips urging him to dally no longer.
When his fingers reached her panties, her thick, sensible, cotton, school panties, the crotch was soaked. There was a little furrow where the material had tucked itself between Genny’s lips, showing him the way. Who knew cotton could be so lascivious! He followed its lead, rubbing her up and down along the furrow. She gasped at the touch and pressed herself against his exploring finger.
“Inside, Paul,” she breathed in his ear. “Inside my panties. Inside me.”
His fingers followed the trickle of wetness to her lips. Their slickness let his fingers slip easily inside. There they groped about lost until they learned the signs to follow, Genny’s gasps and moans, her “There! Oh yes, there!” Eventually, they found her opening and slid inside. As they probed deeper his thumb pressed somewhere at the top of her slit. Genny gasped grabbed him tight round the neck and pulled him close so he pressed some more. Genny erupted.
She was gasping and mewling against his neck as her hips thrust back and forth trying to impale herself on his fingers which were being squeezed by the contractions inside her. She came in great sobbing, shuddering gasps then subsided in a heap upon him.
As she caught her breath she leaned back and gazed at him. Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled, sweat-dampened strands trailing across her face. But her eyes were glowing. She reached out and squeezed the top of his thigh. Her knuckles brushed the tip of his cock pressing through his slacks. He jerked and gasped.
“Take it out, Paul,” Genny breathed. “Show me. I want to see.”
Paul undid his trousers and disentangled his cock which sprang up and surveyed the world of light. Genny reached out and grasped it, lightly at first, then more firmly. Her gaze was fixed on his swollen, purpling helmet, it's surface shiny and glistening in the fading daylight. Her hand moved up and down, tentatively at first then more firm and confident till she was rolling his foreskin up over his cock head then pulling it down as far is it would go, stretching him out. She was like a kid discovering a new toy that entranced her.
“I want to see you squirt, Paul. Will your stuff come out of you if I keep doing this?
“Yeah,” Paul panted. “Just don’t let go when it starts.”
With that, he let out a long gasp, closed his eyes, and threw his head back. Genny focused on conjuring the magic from this marvelous wand she had been gifted. His hands reached out and gripped her thighs tightening at each new starburst of pleasure. Then he was tightening, tensing, pulsing, and pumping out his seed into the world in tight powerful jets.
Genny could feel the volcano rumbling but the first eruption surprised her. She let go for a moment with a startled, “Oh!” Paul uttered a despairing moan and his hand reached for his quivering, spurting cock. But Genny recovered herself. She reached out and gripped Paul’s cock more tightly as it emitted its last ribbons of milky light. She wasn’t going to give up her magic wand that easily!
“Wow,” she said, awe in her voice. “That was amazing! Have you wanted me to do that since we first started coming here?”
“Err… um… umph,” Paul responded with a clarity that would have made a politician proud.
“Do you do it to yourself?”
“Umm… I guess… sometimes.”
“Only sometimes!?” said Genny, arching an eyebrow. “I want to see it. One of those ‘sometimes.’”
Then she looked at her hands, her skirt, Paul’s half-mast trousers and burst into giggles.
“Oh, what a mess! What a lovely, sticky mess!”
**
They had reached the lookout. They stepped off the rampart walkway into its cool shade and sat on the stone ledge. Memories of this place, the moments of discovery here with Genny had been running like a video through Paul’s mind. Now a shadow darkened the screen. That had been their Eden where they had gamboled together as innocent as lambs. It had felt like a place of eternal sunlight outside of time. But now a snake had entered the Garden.
Paul’s emotions were in a turmoil. Chapoutier was a snake, when he wasn’t simply a foul pig, no doubt. He could not get the image of Chapoutier with Genny out of his mind - what he’d tried to do to her, what he might have done to her – and, to his deep unease, it excited him. He tried to remedy things in his imagination by bursting in, the knight in shining armor, to rescue her from the dragon, beating and kicking him into submission. But then he found a part of himself, possessive, lustful, wanting to carry on where she’d forced Chapoutier to leave off. Perhaps the snake was in him too.
Genny’s voice pulled him back from his troubled reverie.
“Can we just sit here tonight, Paul. I don’t want… I can’t do anything this evening. Will you just hold me? Is that Ok?”
“Of course,” said Paul trying to mimic a conviction he did not completely feel.
Genny curled up against him, her head rested on his shoulder and relaxed into him, breathing long and softly. Paul had an arm around her and tried to relax and comfort her but he couldn’t. He was aroused and that made his body tense and awkward. He cursed himself for not offering better comfort. After a while, Genny moved her position and as she did so her hand brushed his crotch and felt his erect cock.
“Oh, Paul, you’re hard!” she said uneasily shifting away slightly.
“I’m sorry, Genny. I can’t help it. I know this is not what you need right now.”
She looked him in the eye, earnest and direct, as she could be. “Did you want to cum while we’re here? Do you need to?” Silence as Paul shifted uncomfortably. Then Genny said, determination written across her face, “If you want to, I’ll help you.” But the sparkle in her eyes was absent.
Paul did want to, very much so. He wanted to feel her hand around his cock. He wanted her to jerk him roughly, to force out of him all the tense, conflicted desires and emotions inside him and spray them with his spunk across the flagstone floor. He looked at her face and saw there only flat resignation.
He knew she would do it if he asked. He also knew that if he did, things between them would never be the same again. The magic would die. He would have killed it.
In his mind, he came to a crossroads and took, perhaps, the road less traveled.
“No, it’s ok!” he said sitting up straight, resolve in his voice. “We have to do something about what happened. You’re right, Chapoutier should pay. One of my cousins goes to the military academy across town. Let me talk to him.”
**
Classes at the Institute started again after Easter. On the second day of school, in the early afternoon, a dark van could be observed cruising slowly past the main entrance. It turned down an alley then pulled into a yard at the back of an old stone building that housed a restaurant. Inside the van were four fit-looking young men wearing black coveralls and jump boots. One was driving with another beside him and two crouched in the back.
“Ok,” said one of the men in back who seemed like the leader, “what do we know?”
The one in the passenger seat twisted around and said, “The regular classes finish at four and the heaviest rush of students out is from 4.10 to about 4.20. Chapoutier will leave early today, at 3.30 or shortly after. He rides a bicycle home. It’s not far.”
“Good,” said the leader. Let’s get on station at 3.25. Balaclavas on and remember, no names. I’m Alpha.” Then pointing round the rest of the group he added, “You’re Beta, Gamma, Delta.” They then sat together in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.
Shortly before 4.25 the van pulled out of the yard and drove slowly towards the Institute entrance. It stopped diagonally across from the entrance.
“Balaclavas on,” ordered Alpha.
“He’ll ride in that direction,” said Gamma from the passenger seat. “So we’re well positioned here.”
The minutes ticked slowly by while the tension inside the van rose. Suddenly Delta, the driver, sat forward and pointed through the windscreen.
“That’s him. He’s coming out now,” he snapped.
An overweight, middle-aged man, sloppily dressed in a shabby suit, came out of the entrance, unchained a bike from the outside wall and proceeded to pedal off. The van engine coughed into life and it shot off towards him. Reaching the bike it pulled across in a screech of brakes so that the bike was forced against the curb and the rider fell off.
The passenger door and back doors were flung open and a dark-clad figure leapt out of each. Alpha and Gamma grabbed the prone, gasping figure lying beside his bike, who was indeed Chapoutier, and half dragged, half frog-marched him to the rear of the van where Beta helped drag him in. The van roared off as the rear doors were still being dragged shut. The whole operation had taken less than two minutes.
Within another two minutes, Chapoutier lay on the floor of the van, arms cuffed behind him, hooded, gagged, and naked except for his socks. His clothes had been pulled off him. He lay panting, moaning and quivering with fear.
“Let’s loop around town the other way to get back to the yard,” Alpha told the driver. “We’ll wait there till the classes get out.”
Once in the yard, Delta cut the engine and silence reigned for a while.
“Well, Chapoutier,” said Alpha at last. “You know why you’re here. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
The reply came in grunts, moans and shakes of the head, all he could manage through the gag.
“You let your dick get the better of you and go where it wasn’t welcome. You’re a sinner, Chapoutier, and today is your very own Judgment Day.”
From the front seat, Gamma interjected. “All right gentlemen. The students should be starting to come out now. Game time.”
“Here that, Chapoutier,” said Alpha silkily. “Now you get to be the star of your own show.”
**
The van slid round to the front of the Institute where students were pouring out the doors and milling around chatting in groups outside. The snatch team opened the van’s back doors and pulled Chapoutier out. He was still bound, and hooded but a placard round his neck had been added to his costume. It read, “Sexual Predator. Female Students Beware!” Once on the sidewalk beside the students, they pulled off his hood, and jumped back into the van which sped off.
Chapoutier stood blinking in the sunlight. He was trembling, dumb, and naked apart from his socks. Gradually, he registered the crowd of students around that seemed to grow rapidly by the minute. Cell phones came out and started clicking and flashing. Soon, he would be trending on social media everywhere.
Later that day a black bin bag was dropped outside the Chapoutier home. It contained his clothes. On it was a note that read, “Madame Chapoutier, these are your husband’s clothes. He has no need of them while he is assaulting young women at the institute.”
**
Early the next week Paul and Genny met again at the lookout. It was a beautiful late spring evening. The sea was calm and a breath of air pushed the fluffy white fair weather cumulus clouds towards the shore.
“It’s over,” said Paul. “He’s quit. Pulled up sticks and left town. Couldn’t stand the scrutiny once it made the media and other girls came forward. It’s safe to go back now.”
Genny threw her arms around him and hugged him close. “Oh Paul, thank you, thank you.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Not everything, maybe. But it was. And more than you can know.”
Her eyes were glistening with tears but they were lit up by her old sparkle that was back again. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely on his cheek over and over again, murmuring, “thank you.” Somehow their faces slid around and her lips were on his. Their kiss was deep. They plunged into each other with a passion previously unknown. Paul felt some dam had burst inside Genny and all the bright energy was pouring out even stronger than before.
After several timeless minutes, she pulled away, panting. Her hand moved deliberately to his crotch where she felt his semi-aroused cock twitch under her touch. She giggled lightly.
“Mmm, Paul. Did you miss me? I missed you… but I couldn’t… well, you know.” A momentary shadow crossed her face but then it was dismissed. The past was shut in a closet and her vibrant light returned.
“We should celebrate,” she enthused, “and I know just how.”
With that, she got up from the stone ledge and then slipped down between his knees. He tried to sit forward and rise but her hand pushed him firmly back.
“Stay there,” she commanded and with that began to unfasten his trousers and pull out his dick. “I want to get to know him again,” she purred, “better than before.” She held his shaft at the base between her thumb and two fingers then started to lick the underside of his swollen helmet, tentatively at first, then with growing assurance. She circled his head with her tongue and then took it between her lips and sucked while her tongue pulsed against his shaft.
Paul gasped and arched back against the low wall behind the ledge. Genny felt him twitch in her mouth and sucked on him a little harder. She felt the moisture in her pussy start to leak out and dampen her panties. She squeezed her thighs together a little tighter.
She lifted her head a little and, with the tip of his cock still half in her mouth, uttered a garbled, “How does it feel, Paul?”
Paul’s eyes were closed and his head thrown back. “Ahh, ohh,” was all he could exhale in reply.
“No words?” said Genny. “Have I made you speechless? I like making your speechless.”
After a pause, she added, resolute, “Paul. Paul. Listen. We need to get a room. Soon. I want you to be my first.”
“Your first!?” exclaimed Paul, his eyes opening wide. “Are you planning more?”
“No, not now silly. But, you know, life is long and there is so much to discover. Who knows what the future will bring.”
“I don’t understand.” Paul’s expression showed his concern.
“Oh, don’t go getting jealous of ghosts from the future. Let’s enjoy the present. The room, Paul.”
She dropped her head to take his cock between her lips again. Her eyes slid up his body to meet his. They were aflame with the joy of life and discovery and around her lips there played a mysterious Mona Lisa smile.
Elle
- 07.06.2020
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