getting detention in nudes 4

She lowered her head and mumbled the word softly.

"I didn't hear that, did you say vagina, Emma?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, done. You see it's not hard is it?"

"No, sir."

Her teacher leaned back nonchalantly and smiled encouragingly at her.

"Of course vagina is Latin - sounds very medical. I'd rather use the English slang term, wouldn't you?"

Emma must have looked as confused as she felt.

"You do know the English slang term, I assume?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"The correct word is “pussy”. Do you ever say pussy?"

Emma blushed scarlet at his casual use of what she considered an obscenity.

"No, sir, I couldn't."

"Nonsense! It's only a word. Half of the population has a pussy you know. I’m sure you've got one . . . haven't you?"

Emma sat in silence. She was too embarrassed to answer him. The insistent spasms of her vaginal muscles made her only too aware that she had a pussy. She was also aware of her teacher's eyes gazing at the barely concealed junction of her thighs as if he was reassuring himself that she did indeed have a pussy.

Her pulse raced as she imagined that he might be able to see through the towel. She had the irrational idea that somehow he might detect how wet she was down there. Her pulse between her thighs seemed to throb as though it was aware of the older man's attention.

"We’ll . . . have you got a cute little pussy or not Emma? You don't seem to have a tongue."

She nodded sheepishly. “Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir what?"

"Yes, sir I have."

"Of course you've got a pussy. That's what all those boys are after. As far as they're concerned, it's the most important part of your body. The sheer number of pussy’s in this school is what keeps the boys hanging around the gates. Your pussy is the most powerful magnet in the world and you can't even say the word."

"No, sir", she mumbled sheepishly.

When he put it to her like that, it seemed petty and childish to avoid using the word.

"Have you ever said pussy . . . Emma?"

She nodded again, knowing that he would never believe her if she denied it.

"To the boy who likes to touch your breasts, I suppose."

"No, sir, I've never said that to a boy."

"Did he try to touch your pussy . . . Emma?"

Her voice was a whisper, "No, sir, I wouldn't let him."

"So he did try then. Why wouldn't you let him Emma?"

"I didn't want him to. I was frightened."

"Frightened? What of?"

"I don't know. I suppose I was afraid that he'd go too far."

Her teacher smiled sympathetically as Emma drained her glass. The alcohol was starting to affect her and she was beginning to feel a little more relaxed. His smile was encouraging and she wished that she had been more truthful. She was sure that he would have understood if she had been completely honest.

Mike had gone further than she had admitted to her teacher. She'd allowed him to fondle her small breasts through the thin material of her blouse because she didn't know how to stop him. There didn't seem to be any real harm in letting him do it and she had no idea what was normal on a first date.

The young girl had been unprepared for the feelings that his clumsy caresses would arouse in her and she had returned his kisses with enthusiasm. Her breasts ached and burned under his hands with an urgency she had never known and she had not objected when Mike moved one hand onto her knee. She knew with excited apprehension what he intended to do next.

She felt a gradual pulse build between her thighs until she was throbbing with anticipation. Mike started to slide his hand up inside her short skirt and she was suddenly damp with a lewd expectation. As his hand slid up between her smooth thighs, her legs opened instinctively to allow him access.

She was burning with curiosity and desire. She wanted to feel his touch on her, but as his fingers reached the hem of her panties, she panicked and pushed his hand away.

Mike hadn't understood her confusion and she couldn't explain it. They had argued pointlessly until he had called her a “prick teaser” and left in a sulk. He still hung around the school gates with his friends but, since that day, he'd made a point of ignoring her.

The teacher got up and refilled her glass. When he went back to his chair and sat down, Lucy shifted the minuscule towel in a futile attempt to hide her thighs from his intense stare. She was painfully aware that she had allowed herself to become as aroused by her teacher's words as she had by Mike's hands.

He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair and spoke casually.

"So if you could have been sure that he wouldn't go too far, you'd have let him touch your pussy . . . wouldn’t you?"

Emma said nothing. She had no idea how to answer. The bewildered youngster was trying to work out what the conversation was about and why her teacher was talking to her like this. He repeated the question.

"Well? Would you have let him? There's nothing to be ashamed of you know."

Emma muttered, shame-faced, "I suppose so, if it didn't go any further."

Her teacher nodded, "That's right, there's no harm in it, and it would have felt good too, wouldn't it?"

Emma didn't know if it would have felt good but she had certainly wanted it at the time. She drank some more of her drink, the taste wasn't so bad now and the warm glow sent tendrils of pleasure snaking through her body that she was beginning to enjoy. She still could not understand why her teacher wanted to know so much about her? Out of all the girls in the school, why had he picked on her? He waved his empty glass with a gentle laugh.

"You'd better pass the bottle Emma . . . before you drink it all."

Emma struggled to extricate herself from the sagging armchair. As she stood, the alcohol hit and she felt a wave of dizziness. With one hand holding the bottle and the other trying to keep the towel in position she tried to keep her balance, and failed. The bottle slipped from her grasp and as she grabbed for it, she lost her grip on the towel as it fell on the floor. For a moment she stood completely exposed before her teacher's fascinated stare. Mortified with embarrassment, she scooped up the scrap of cloth and hurriedly wrapped it around her exposed body.

"You were right Emma. You have got a cute little pussy, and a very pretty one at that. It seems a shame that you can't even say the word. It's an even bigger shame that no-one has ever touched it, or do you touch it yourself?"

Emma 's green eyes flared with indignation. Her anger was barely hidden beneath her embarrassment.

"No, sir I don't."

She put the bottle on his desk and retreated to the armchair.

"Are you in love with this boy Mike?"

"No, of course not."

"But he touched your breasts and you would have let him touch your pussy. Were you very excited Emma?"

"I don't know. I suppose so."

"But you're not in love with him. Would you let anyone touch you . . . if it felt nice then?"

"I'm not a whore, if that's what you mean."

He shook his head, "I'm sure you're not Emma. I just wondered if it would feel the same if any boy touched your pussy."

"I don't know. No-one else has tried so I've never thought about it."

"Suppose . . . I touched your pussy. Do you think it would feel good?"

Emma held her breath for a panic stricken moment. How could her teacher say things like this to her? It would have been an embarrassing suggestion if she had her clothes on but for him to propose touching her there while she was naked . . . made the fantastic idea almost possible.

Despite her shock, Emma felt the pulse in her vagina turn to an insistent throbbing. The alcohol was playing strange tricks on her mind. She imagined her teacher's fingers on her heated pussy and her body was responding to the thought. She shook her head mutely, suddenly afraid of the situation. He might be her teacher but he was acting very strangely. This was a side of him that she'd never seen nor even suspected existed and if you are eager to know what happened next read it next chapter.

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