Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Single Mom

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in December 2007 }

My name is Virginia Henny, and I teach sixth grade in a small farm community in northwestern New York State. Sharon McKay was one of my students. I should tell you that I am twenty-eight, divorced with no kids, and was not dating at the moment, so I had no one to rush home to. Not that I couldn’t date, but because I didn’t want to. I was considered pretty, even beautiful by some, but I simply was not ready for a relationship.

Sharon McCay was tall for her age. (Eleven years old and almost 5 feet tall) She had long blonde hair, jade green eyes, and a cherub’s face with a bee-stung lower lip. Unlike most eleven-year-olds who were straight from the waist down, she had a narrow waist, flaring hips,and long tapered legs that rose up to meet a magnificent ass.

It was after school on a snowy December afternoon and I was sitting at my desk grading test when Sharon came into the classroom in tears. It seems that she had been in the girl’s lavatory and missed the school bus home. I made several attempts to call her mother, but to no avail, so I had her take a seat in the classroom until I had finished grading test, and then if her mother hadn’t returned the message that I left on her answering machine, I would drive her home.

I had no idea that it was snowing as hard as it was, or I would have left sooner and finished grading the test at home. As it was, when we arrived in the school parking lot to leave, my big Chevrolet Suburban SUV was in snow up to the running board. I had Sharon climb in the front seat while I started the engine so as to get some heat and turn the defrosters on while I swept and scraped snow from the windows.

After I got the car windows cleaned off, I climbed in the car to find her sitting in the center seat, not the right hand passenger seat. I thought that was odd, but I didn’t say anything because my immediate concern was getting us out of the parking lot and on the road.

In any case, I managed to get out of the parking lot and onto the crowned black top road in front of the school, which was plowed, but still slippery with a thin coat of snow and ice on it. fortunately, my Suburban is big and heavy, and I was able to proceed without a problem. Until I reached state road 15. The school district did a far better job of maintaining its parking lots and roads than did the city or state.

I made a right turn onto State Road 15, and knew right off that I was going to have a problem. The suburban fishtailed coming out of the turn, and Sharon almost jumped into my lap. She grabbed my thigh with both hands for support and hung on for dear life. I tried to comfort her by putting my right hand on her left thigh just below the hem of her skirt. “It’s okay, baby,” I said, gently patting her thigh. She didn’t startle or pull away when I put my hand on her thigh, so I left it there for longer than I should have, I think.

I hadn’t driven much more than about five miles when the sky opened up and it began snowing so heavily that my visibility was down to practically zero. The only good part was that there was no traffic on the road, so that I could straddle the center crown and not worry too much about where the side of the road ended. I had traveled this road enough to know that the apron was wide and covered with gravel, so I would know if I was drifting off of the blacktop.

Sharon was hanging onto my right leg for dear life, and I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles were white. We traveled about another five miles when I decided that I would pull off on the apron and wait for the county to send out the snowplows. Living in northwestern New York, I knew enough to keep a blanket, a pillow, a flashlight, and some road flares in the compartment in the back of the SUV. (I didn’t carry a jack since the SUV was far too large for me to even attempt to change a tire, so I had long ago replaced it with road service and a cell phone.)

The suburban holds about 40 gallons of gas and was near full, so I knew that between the blanket and running the heater occasionally, we wouldn’t freeze to death.

Sharon and I both climbed over the seats and into the back of the SUV. Once back there, I folded the second row of seats down, giving us even more room in the back. Although I’m not sure why I thought we would need more room, there was already enough space for me to stretch out full length, if it came to that. (I never thought that we would have to spend the entire night in the SUV, but figured that the worsening storm just might change all of that.)

As I removed the emergency supplies from the jack compartment, I realized that I had left my cell phone on my desk at school, so I wouldn’t be receiving any phone calls from Sharon’s mother, or anyone else. The car hadn’t yet began to cool off, so we spread the blanket out over our waist, legs, and feet and sat with our backs resting against the back of the front seat. I desperately wanted a cigarette, but thought it best not to smoke in the closed car, and I wasn’t about to open any windows because the wind was blowing in strong, loud gusts, and the snow was swirling around. I realized then that this was no ordinary snow storm, but an old fashioned Northeast blizzard. Sharon seemed a little apprehensive over our situation, so I thought that if we talked a little, it would take her mind off of the storm, so I asked about her family.

She told me that it was just her and her mom, that she had no father or siblings. She told me that she didn’t have a real aunt, but that her mother did have a “friend,” that she called “Aunt Joyce.” who came around a lot.

“Aunt Joyce?” Was her mother gay? I didn’t want to touch that one, and fortunately I didn’t have to because she began asking me questions.

I told her that I was alone also, and that I had no children, but that I did have a real sister who sometimes visited me.

“You don’t got a boyfriend?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Not at the present time,” I told her, “but maybe some day when I feel better about men.”

“So you could get a girlfriend,” Sharon suggested, leaving little doubt in my mind that Aunt Joyce was indeed a girlfriend.

Not wanting to disparage lesbians to the daughter of one, I simply said, “If I ever meet one that I liked, I might do that.”

“Well, don’t you ever get horny?” she asked.

When I finally recovered from the shock, I asked, “What do you mean by horny?” Not quite sure that we were talking about the same thing.

“You know. Like when you get all wet down there and stuff.”

I couldn’t believe that an eleven-year-old was talking about ‘getting wet down there.’ Was I so old that I couldn’t remember being eleven? How old was I when I started getting wet down there? Did eleven-year-olds get wet down there? I imagined so, since I remember masturbating long before I was eleven.

Sharon was obviously waiting for an answer, and I wasn’t sure how to answer. The obvious thing to do was to tell her that we shouldn’t be talking about these things, and changed the subject. “Are you cold?” I asked her.

She slid down from the back of the front seat and onto the floor of the SUV, then pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Uh-huh,” she said, then turned on her right side and pressed up against my left thigh. When she slid down, her short skirt had ridden up, and I could feel wet panties pressed against my left leg. I was being vamped by an eleven-year-old, and didn’t know what to do about it. I couldn’t believe that I was letting this continue, but I was powerless to stop it. “We really shouldn’t run the car too much, because we have to be careful of carbon monoxide leaking into the car,” I said, not wanting this to stop while I got up.

“So couldn’t we both just get under the blanket and keep warm that way?” she asked.

I didn’t answer, but simply slid down to the floor of the car and pulled the blanket up to my chin. I felt my own skirt ride up to the top of my thighs with a little help from myself I’m sure. Sharon threw her left arm over my waist and I could feel her pubic mound pressed against my naked leg, accompanied by a wetness being left by her panties as as she slowly, almost imperceptibly moved against my thigh.

“Honey?” I moaned in a mild protest.

“Huh?” she grunted.

“You really should lie still,” I said in a near whisper.

“How come? I won’t tell nobody, I promise.”

Well at least it was an admission of what she was doing, and not a flat out denial or pretense of innocent touching. The “I won’t tell.” was consent if she were old enough to consent, and the “How come.” was a child like statement of innocence. I only wished that I could be as honest with myself and my own feelings as she was being, but no adult wants to admit that she is being vamped by a mere child.

I could hear the storm blowing so hard that even the big suburban was rocking a little. I knew then that we would be spending the night here. I felt somewhat secure knowing that we had a full tank of gas and a warm blanket, and I wanted to convince Sharon of that. I reminded her that we had plenty of gas for heat, and a warm blanket, and that we were as snug as a bug in a rug. Her response was to hold me tighter and to snuggle up against me.

The question was, could I resist her obvious flirting all night long? We were both lying with our heads on the one pillow that I had in the car, and when I turned to face her, our faces were a mere inch apart. As I stared into that cherubic face, I couldn’t resist kissing her on her lips, but as an adult would kiss a child, as a mother would kiss her daughter.

She had obviously participated in, or witnessed a great deal of open mouth kissing, because before I knew what was happening, we were kissing as two lovers would kiss. Her tongue was in my mouth and I was fumbling under the blanket, trying to remove her panties. She soon became frustrated with my fumbling, broke off the kiss and brazenly tugged her own panties down and off. I wanted desperately to pull off the blanket and look at her naked body, so I leaned over the front seat, started the car and turned both front and rear heaters on full blast. When I got back under the blanket, she was totally naked.

So what now? She’s naked, and she’s waiting for me to get naked, I’m sure, but . . .  she was an eleven-year-old child. I was being led around by an eleven-year-old, a student. That would hardly go over big in court. “Your honor, she seduced me.” When the judge got done laughing, he would sentence me to twenty years in jail.

Finally, she tired of waiting for me to do something, so she ducked under the blanket, tucked her fingers under the waistband of my panties and tugged them down my legs and off of my feet. I didn’t resist or protest, but simply lay there as if frozen in place, not sure that I believed what was happening. She then climbed on top of me, pushed my skirt up over my waist, positioned herself for maximum contact of our clits, and began to thrust her hips, grinding our clits together, moaning and breathing heavily.

Suddenly, it was a case of the student teaching the teacher, and I was a willing student. She began slowly rubbing her clit against mine, staring down at me with a lost look on her face. She was right here fucking me, but with a faraway look in her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening, as I couldn’t. Slowly, her pace increased in both strength and frequency. Her eyes went wide, her jaw hung slack and a look of wild passion distorted her face. And mine.

I increased my own pace, thrusting and rubbing, catching her rhythm, digging my fingers into the soft flesh of her buttocks, pulling her pussy hard against mine as we ground together. Writhing like two warm snakes with limbs entwined, both moaning, both making the sounds of a cat with it’s motor running. I was an adult, and she was just a child, but under the covers, everyone is eighteen.

Suddenly, she stopped her snake-like writhing on my pussy, sat up, leaned forward and began to unbutton my blouse, the tip of her tongue protruding from between her lips in total concentration. I lay there, staring up at her in total submission.

When she had opened the last button, she told me, “Sit up.” I obeyed, wanting her to see my breasts, to fondle them, to suck on my hard nipples. She pushed my blouse down over my shoulders and arms, then told me to lean forward, which I did so that she could reach behind me and unsnap and remove my bra, expertly, using only one hand. I could tell that she took great pleasure in baring my breasts as she cupped them, fondled them, and kissed my stiff nipples. Once again, there was no doubt in my mind that she had been here and done this before.

After she removed my skirt and we were both totally naked, she knee-walked back up to my pubic mound and slowly, in a tempting, seductive manner, raised her hands behind her head, laced her fingers, and lowered herself to straddle my pussy, where she began to thrust and grind like a pole dancer in a strip bar, staring down wide eyed into my contorted face to check my reaction.

As I peered down between my breasts, I could see her outer labia come open and her clitoris protrude from its hood, rubbing against me with each thrust of her hips. I felt powerless to do anything but lay there and let her do to me as she wished.

Suddenly, I wanted more. I wanted to drink from her wet pussy, lick her and suck her, and tongue-fuck her tight asshole.

I grabbed her hips and tugged her up to my face. She turned to face my feet and lowered her pussy to my waiting mouth, lips, and tongue.

She was on hands and knees, straddling me, her head between my legs, her tongue working on my own pussy. She soon began to shake and tremble, and I could taste her cum as it ran out of her and into my mouth. As I drank from her, I rewarded her with a mouth full of my own cum, which she swallowed eagerly.

Before finally falling asleep, I asked her who taught her to do all of that, and if it had been her mother? She shook her head no, and said it was her Aunt Joyce, whose place she stayed at after school until her mother got home from work and picked her up.

We were awakened at daylight by the sound of snowplows on the road. A knock came on the car window, and we hurriedly got dressed, putting our underthings in the jack well to save time. I rolled down the window and saw several men shoveling the SUV out. A man asked if we were okay, and with faces covered in dried cum, we assured him that we were.

When we arrived at Sharon’s house, we were greeted by a beautiful woman who was a grownup version of Sharon. She had called the school and was told that Sharon had missed the school bus and was being driven home by her teacher. Judy, Sharon’s mother, had spent the night on the phone with the police and pacing the floor. She gave me a big hug and thanked me for taking care of her daughter, and invited me to come for dinner and cocktails some evening. Which I accepted.

The End