Feeling her nipple swell tantalisingly in my mouth, I raised my lips to hers and, taking her in my arms, kissed her fully and passionately, our tongues entwining and exploring each other's mouths. The sensation of her naked, sweat-sheened tits pressing against my own, heightened my desire still further and when our nipples touched, a spasm of electric desire passed from my breasts to my throbbing, wet pussey.
Smiling conspiratorially we stripped naked and then fell upon each other, kissing deeply and rubbing our tits and cunts together in complete abandon.
'Darling Nicole, how I've longed to feel your naked skin against mine,' I murmured huskily. 'At night in my room I've driven myself almost mad with desire at the thought of my tongue exploring the dark, secret places of your body. Angel, will you let me lick the honey from your cunt?'
'Mais oui, Cherie,' whispered Nicole. 'I thought you'd never ask!' Then, slowly and gracefully she spread her slim, brown legs and stood, feet apart, hands on hips and pelvis thrust forward, sinuously undulating so that with each circle of her arse, her delicious pink pussey was fully displayed to my gaze in the rosy firelight.
Dropping to my hands and knees, tits dangling and bum thrust high in the air, I extended my wicked tongue and licked her swollen cunt, nibbling and kissing its shadowy folds and dark recesses and drinking her musky juice while my soft hands clasped her tight, boyish arse.
After I'd spent a minute or two at this glorious pursuit, I felt Nicole tremble and her body tense with the onset of her climax. Between groans of pleasure her breathing was laboured and uneven, and her body ran with fragrant sweat which I tasted on my lips and the scent of which filled my nostrils.
Moments later I felt her body relax and her breathing become more even. Sitting back on my haunches, I looked up into her face and saw there an expression of pure joy and mischief.
'And now for you, sweet Rosie,' she said, dropping to her hands and knees and gently pushing me back on to the thick, soft rug beneath us.
Tits rubbing against me, she licked the salty sweat from my belly while her tender fingers stroked and tickled my pussey, making me squirm and giggle with delight as she found my swollen clitoris and softly massaged it so that I thought I'd explode with ecstasy.
With the swiftness and grace of a gazelle, she straddled my body, her heels under my bottom to raise and display my cunt, and lowered her own pussey on to mine.
We moved together in perfect unison, our pubic hair mingling in a delicious cocktail of baby blonde and jet black, wet with our love-juices. Once again she reached down and found my clitoris, rubbing and massaging until I, too, reached my longed-for climax and sighed deeply with contentment.
Oblivious to everything but each other, we lay in each other's arms in the warmth from the fire and fell into a light but refreshing sleep.
I awoke the following morning with an inexplicable sense of mounting excitement. Inexplicable until I stretched my limbs under the crisp, white bedclothes and opened my eyes to greet the warm spring sun which suffused the room with golden light.
Smiling to myself I pushed the sheets away and lay there naked, bathed in a brilliant shaft of sunlight which pierced a narrow gap between the flowered drapes at my window.
As the warmth enveloped my body and the sun glinted on my golden pubic hair like light dancing on the surface of the lake outside, I began to feel those familiar sensations of longing creep from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. With quickening pulse I felt my tingling nipples rise and harden and the deepest recesses of my belly and pussey throb with a warm dampness as I imagined my darling Simon stroking my body, tawny in the sunlight, and pushing the blunt, swollen head of his cock against the opening of my womanhood.
I squeezed my nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each gentle hand, breathing deeply and feeling the twin peaks of my generously rounded breasts rise and fall in voluptuous rhythm.
My entire body tingled with erotic pleasure as I ran a delicate fingernail from the cleft between my breasts, down the length of my slim torso, over my flat belly to the tangled mass of soft blonde hair at its base.
Twining the silky strands around my fingers for a moment or two, I reached down and insinuated a warm finger between the lips of my pussey. As I found and began to gently massage my swollen clitoris, Shockwaves of pure, unadulterated eroticism coursed through me and I began to feel weak with desire and suffused with a longing to be filled with a man's erect prick.
I gracefully parted my long legs, raising my knees and then, overcome with lust, thrust two, then three fingers into my throbbing cunt, moaning with pleasure and writhing in ecstasy on the rumpled sheets.
Flowing with the sensations of my swollen breasts and clitoris, sexy bottom rubbing against cool white linen and cunt filled with mobile, questing fingers I climaxed with a rush of passion and warm, liquid honey which spilled forth onto my soft inner thighs.
Relaxing my body I allowed my breathing to become regular and even, smiling inwardly as I anticipated my next sexual encounter. 'I wonder who the lucky man will be?' I whispered to myself, little knowing how quickly I was to find out…
Later that day, lessons at an end, I felt compelled by the burgeoning freshness of the warm spring afternoon to explore the extensive gardens belonging to Madame Dupont's Academy for Young Ladies.
These gardens, which were beautifully maintained by an upright German gentleman of advanced years by the name of Franzmann, ran right down to a small private beach at the water's edge where we young ladies were frequently to be found in the warm weather, unbeknown to the stern Madame Dupont, dipping our bare toes in the clear water and giggling delightedly as the little waves splashed our legs.
A small wooden pier jutted out into the lake, to which was tied a gaily painted rowing boat belonging to Madame Dupont's son, Michel, whom none of us had met because of his being away at school, but who was the subject of a great deal of girlish speculation and more than a few romantic daydreams.
On this particular afternoon, there being a hint of a chill in the air, I made my way to the tall, heated glasshouse which lay at the very heart of the garden and which contained Madame Dupont's vast collection of exquisite orchids from all over the world. This glasshouse was one of the largest and most beautiful I'd seen, its clear panes glinting like a million diamonds in the sunlight, and its interior as green and scented as a tropical paradise.
Madame Dupont was often to be found in her moments off, aproned and with sleeves rolled up, a gentle expression softening her normally stern features, tenderly ministering to one delicate bloom or another, a tiny pair of scissors kept expressly for the purpose in her hand and a plant spray containing the finest spring water money could buy at her feet.
Franzmann, who shared Madame Dupont's love of orchids, carried out the more menial tasks involved in their cultivation, digging and planting alongside the great lady as she glided majestically from row to row, lovingly sniffing a scented bloom here and snipping away a dead leaf there.
It had been intimated amongst us girls that Franzmann who, to the best of our knowledge, was unmarried, shared more with Madame than a passion for exotic flowers. It was said that they shared pleasures of a far more intimate nature in each other's company, a fact borne out by my friend and fellow student Lisa who, when strolling through the gardens one balmy evening, heard the sounds of mature adult voices speaking in hushed, low tones, followed by much joyful chuckling and the rustling of headmistressy bombazine.
Swiftly crouching down in order to ascertain the true nature of what she was witnessing, Lisa clearly heard the voice of our revered Madame, exclaiming to her obviously male assailant: 'Franz, you naughty boy, I wish you'd stop tickling and find the time to free me from these dastardly stays. A moment longer in their confines and I swear I'll explode!'
There followed a quantity of male and female giggling, a hearty slap of manly hand against ample female flesh and a pink, whalebone corset sailed through the air and landed at Lisa's feet, whereupon she stifled the screams of laughter which threatened to divulge her presence and ran swiftly back to the school in order to regale the rest of us with the story of her horticultural experience, adding a great deal of speculative and lascivious detail for good measure!
I happened to know that on this particular afternoon Madame Dupont was engaged in marking French essays in her study, so I was a little surprised to hear the sound of a melodic tune being hummed within the sultry,
