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Physical Co-education: Part 2
Physical Co-education: Part 2
Attempting intimacy and Experiencing Euphoria.
Based on a post by Hector
Bidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
When we got back to our room, Gretchen went into the
bathroom and changed into her pajamas. I changed back into a t-shirt and
basketball shorts. She sat up cross-legged on her side of the bed, leaning back
on the padded headboard. I stretched out on mine.
"Pretty spectacular day," I said.
"It really was," she agreed. "I hope
I didn't ruin the evening for you."
"Not at all. I had fun at the pool." It
had been sort of obvious that she hadn't really wanted to hang out with Tom and
Melissa, any more than we did. I could understand. I've never fantasized of
doubles matches either. Besides, it had been a long day.
Changing the subject; "Are you about ready for
bed?" I asked.
I thought she would be, but she gave a noncommittal
shrug. That was fine too. We could talk a while. Maybe I could swing the topic
around to plankton again. Her subtle body language indicated she mindset was
different than last night, when she already had the covers over herself.
"Did you like the play?" I asked.
"I loved it, actually." She smiled,
pleasantly.
"That look in Miranda's eyes; when she got her
first glimpse of her fellow creatures." I kept the conversation going.
"How beauteous mankind is!" she quoted.
"O brave new world, that has such people in it!"
"And Prospero, waving his staff around, trying
to keep everything on course. Reminded me of Mr. Palmer’s Phys Ed. Class.”
"Ha-ha! And what did you think of Caliban? He
kind of reminded me of you."
"Me?" I retorted. “How so?”
"Big, brutish guy, slunking around."
“Slunking?” I laughed. "And you know who
reminded me of you?" I tried to remember the name of the drunken servant.
"Trinculo!"
"What?" she laughed. "Trinculo? I
pictured myself more of an Ariel."
"Ariel was a guy."
"A fairy!" She debated, while sliding down
to lay on her back.
She leaned over mischievously and tickled me right
in the ribs. "Whatever. But a guy."
I was kind of astonished that she'd done it.
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I," she
teased. Then she lay back on her pillow, all innocent and guileless. "In
the cowslip's bell I lie."
So maybe she wasn't really ready for bed yet, at
all. Maybe I'd underestimated her willingness to have a little fun. I turned
toward her.
Bucket list Items.
"Do you know what they say? That everyone
should do at least once in their life?" I asked.
"What's that?"
"Well, according to this magazine article I
read once, anyway. It listed a bunch of things that everyone should do at least
once in their life. And one was to sleep in the nude in a hotel in Paris."
"And? So, have you?" she asked, a twinkle
in her eye.
I laughed. "I'm working on it. I've slept in a
hotel now at least."
"And what were some of the other things that
everyone should do?"
"Hmm. I can't really remember any of the other
ones."
"So; the only one you remember, is the one
about sleeping in the nude," she teased.
"Well, it kind of struck my fancy. I don't
know, it just sounded so;"
"Bohemian?" she suggested.
Not the word I was searching for, but good enough.
"On the Rue de Barres," she went on.
"With the gardens right outside your window."
"You've been to Paris?"
"Not yet. But I've dreamt about it."
Gretchen said, earnestly.
"Just like the people there; probably dream
about coming here."
"To this hotel?" she teased.
"Don't you think?" I challenged her.
"And sleeping In the nude?" Gretchen
played the skeptic.
"That's the way the French sleep, isn't
it?"
She laughed. "Well, I guess Melissa Paxton is
going to be one step ahead of you, tonight."
"Oh, she's been way ahead of me for ages."
I concurred.
"So now's your chance to catch up."
Gretchen blurted out.
I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that one.
Then, miss merit scholar sat up, and began to
unbutton her pajama top.
"Now wait. I wasn't trying to."
"Oh come on," she said. "I hear it's
something that everybody should do at least once in their life." The two
sides of her pajama shirt parted to reveal her two perfect tits, firm, symmetrical,
and proud. She slipped her top completely off, and tossed it on the floor.
"Besides," she continued, laying back and arching her back, plus
wriggling down her pajama pants.
"Last night we did things my way, so it's only
fair to do them your way, tonight." Gretchen played it off as my
initiative.
She looked up at me, all innocent and guileless in
her plain white panties. "Et tu monsieur? Tu ne vas pas te
déshabiller?"
Pardom Muah? I said in my best effort to not appear
uncultured.
“And you, master; Are you going to undress?”
Gretchen said with a wink.
So maybe she really had a headache, last night? And
maybe she'd been just as turned on by Melissa's disrobing as I'd been. Maybe
she just preferred singles to doubles. Like I did.
I stood and made a show of it. I turned off all the
lights but the bathroom, allowing just enough glow so she could see me. Then
pulling my own shirt with my back toward her. I displayed my red-neck seduction
by letting the shirt slide down, off my back.
Still with my back to her (but I could see her
through a wall mirror); I bent over, then wriggled off my own basketball
shorts, sliding them to my knees. I paused a second; what the hell; I reversed
then raised the waistline up so I could hook my elastic brief waistband, then
pulled off my briefs.
“Oui, oui!” she cheered me on. It wasn't like she
hadn't seen what was under them before.
I jumped backward into a back somersault, onto the
bed; and rolled to a landing with my head on my pillow. Then I stretched out my
arms and legs in a luxurious Da Vinci stretch. It did feel good to be naked in
a hotel room, even if it wasn't in Paris.
“Look, Gretchen! I can see an Eiffel Tower!” I said
as my cock pointed skyward.
"How beauteous mankind is!" she cooed as
she wriggled her own panties off, too.
“Our own, one last field trip, tonight?
Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Portland?”
I turned toward her and she turned toward me. There
was absolutely no doubt about how pretty she was. Her attractive face, her
proud tits, her taut stomach, her perfectly rounded hip. Not only pretty but
eminently desirable. As my cock was now frankly announcing. As she was now
frankly aware.
"Sorry," I blushed.
But she didn't seem at all offended. In fact, she
seemed flattered.
I got up and pulled down the bed linens on my side.
She helped, working them under herself. I got back in beside her, the sheets
were silky smooth against our bare skin.
Another Item on the list.
"I didn't tell you everything that was in my
article," I said.
"Oh?" she replied.
"It's who you're supposed to be sleeping with.
In that hotel room in Paris. The one on the; Rue de Whatsit, with the flowers
all around. You're supposed to be sleeping in the nude with your lover."
She didn't respond right away, but she didn't turn
away her gaze. "Mais naturellement, monsieur. Ce serait très bohème,
non?"
“Okay, you gotta help a poor guy out, mademoiselle”
I pleaded. “I feel like I’m missing the best commentary.”
“I’m saying; “But of course,
sir. That would be very bohemian, wouldn't it?”
I reached over and touched her shoulder. She let me
do it. I scooted closer and ran my hand over the soft perfect curve of her hip.
Then I picked up her hand and kissed it while saying; “I hope you like my
Bohemian just as much as I love your French?”
She closed her eyes. I buzzed in even closer and
kissed her perfect nipple, sucking it gently into plumpness, licking it like an
ice-cream cone, up and up, all the way around, greedy not to lose a single
drip.
My hand, meanwhile, continued its exploration: her
posterior nether regions, her lower thigh, the long, lovely valley between her
legs. And at its head a trim, tidy meadow, smooth and soft. And running the
length of the meadow, a pleasant little valley of delights. And as my fingers
probed, the banks of the valley gently yielded to reveal a secret pathway, warm
and moist and promising. And as my fingers explored, the pathway got deeper and
moister; until I found myself at the entrance of a secret cavern, warm and
slippery, deep and exciting.
“Belle, mademoiselle, Oui.”
She was swooning.
I rolled onto her and laid my chest on her tit’s
slowly. I kissed her neck gently and nibbled her earlobe while the weight of my
body settled upon her. She spread her legs wide and wrapped her arms under
mine, then pulled me up, while wrapping her calves around my thighs. My stiff
cock was at the right place.
Now; I know you're supposed to go slow, but
sometimes you just can't help yourself. I hoisted myself up her and she guided
my turgid cock to her warm, slippery entrance. In I plunged. She clamped her
thighs, she clamped her arms. I scooted myself a little further up, the way
Miss Latimer had taught us.
Her thighs were so warm and welcoming, her nipples
so insistent against my chest, her cavern so tight and yet so slick. I closed
my eyes and concentrated on the task at hand. I was the brawny foundry man,
thrusting my ingot of steel into the insistent slippery squeeze of her rolling
mill, thrusting it in; and drawing it out. Thrusting it in until it finally
exploded in a hail of fiery sparks, a blissful shower of molten droplets.
I couldn't really tell if Gretchen had come or not.
She'd gotten wet, she'd let me in, she'd rolled my steel. But whatever she'd
felt herself she'd kept to herself. One of the main lessons that Miss Latimer
was always trying to instill in us was to be aware of our partner's response.
Her Failure to launch.
"Did you come?" I asked.
She didn't reply. I figured she hadn't. But when I
reached over to pet her again she stopped me.
"It's okay," she said.
I cuddled closer. She turned to let me spoon against
her back. I pulled the sheet and blanket up over us and put my arm around her.
But the question still bothered me.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked softly.
She didn't say no.
"When we had sex in class those times I
couldn't really tell either. It always felt like I wasn't doing enough for you.
Was it that way tonight?"
She still didn't reply. She just lay there, soft and
warm in my arms. Okay; if she didn't want to talk about it I wasn't going to
make a federal case. But then she squeezed my arm, ever so slightly.
"It wasn't you, Colt. You’re an amazing lover.”
Then she kissed my hand and laid it to rest on her navel.
Not entirely convincing. But if that was her story,
I wasn't going to argue. I'd just try harder next time. The long day was
catching up to me. The bed was so comfortable. My wrung-out phallus was already
snoozing there between us. I could see Matisse's open window in my mind's eye,
the geraniums, the sailboats rocking in the harbor.
"There's something wrong with my wiring,"
she said quietly. It took me a second to bring my faculties back online.
"I don't feel things the way I'm supposed
to." She was facing away from me, I couldn't see her face.
"When you're inside me I can feel that you're
there, but it doesn't fee
View all episodes
By (various)Physical Co-education: Part 2
Attempting intimacy and Experiencing Euphoria.
Based on a post by Hector
Bidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
When we got back to our room, Gretchen went into the
bathroom and changed into her pajamas. I changed back into a t-shirt and
basketball shorts. She sat up cross-legged on her side of the bed, leaning back
on the padded headboard. I stretched out on mine.
"Pretty spectacular day," I said.
"It really was," she agreed. "I hope
I didn't ruin the evening for you."
"Not at all. I had fun at the pool." It
had been sort of obvious that she hadn't really wanted to hang out with Tom and
Melissa, any more than we did. I could understand. I've never fantasized of
doubles matches either. Besides, it had been a long day.
Changing the subject; "Are you about ready for
bed?" I asked.
I thought she would be, but she gave a noncommittal
shrug. That was fine too. We could talk a while. Maybe I could swing the topic
around to plankton again. Her subtle body language indicated she mindset was
different than last night, when she already had the covers over herself.
"Did you like the play?" I asked.
"I loved it, actually." She smiled,
pleasantly.
"That look in Miranda's eyes; when she got her
first glimpse of her fellow creatures." I kept the conversation going.
"How beauteous mankind is!" she quoted.
"O brave new world, that has such people in it!"
"And Prospero, waving his staff around, trying
to keep everything on course. Reminded me of Mr. Palmer’s Phys Ed. Class.”
"Ha-ha! And what did you think of Caliban? He
kind of reminded me of you."
"Me?" I retorted. “How so?”
"Big, brutish guy, slunking around."
“Slunking?” I laughed. "And you know who
reminded me of you?" I tried to remember the name of the drunken servant.
"Trinculo!"
"What?" she laughed. "Trinculo? I
pictured myself more of an Ariel."
"Ariel was a guy."
"A fairy!" She debated, while sliding down
to lay on her back.
She leaned over mischievously and tickled me right
in the ribs. "Whatever. But a guy."
I was kind of astonished that she'd done it.
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I," she
teased. Then she lay back on her pillow, all innocent and guileless. "In
the cowslip's bell I lie."
So maybe she wasn't really ready for bed yet, at
all. Maybe I'd underestimated her willingness to have a little fun. I turned
toward her.
Bucket list Items.
"Do you know what they say? That everyone
should do at least once in their life?" I asked.
"What's that?"
"Well, according to this magazine article I
read once, anyway. It listed a bunch of things that everyone should do at least
once in their life. And one was to sleep in the nude in a hotel in Paris."
"And? So, have you?" she asked, a twinkle
in her eye.
I laughed. "I'm working on it. I've slept in a
hotel now at least."
"And what were some of the other things that
everyone should do?"
"Hmm. I can't really remember any of the other
ones."
"So; the only one you remember, is the one
about sleeping in the nude," she teased.
"Well, it kind of struck my fancy. I don't
know, it just sounded so;"
"Bohemian?" she suggested.
Not the word I was searching for, but good enough.
"On the Rue de Barres," she went on.
"With the gardens right outside your window."
"You've been to Paris?"
"Not yet. But I've dreamt about it."
Gretchen said, earnestly.
"Just like the people there; probably dream
about coming here."
"To this hotel?" she teased.
"Don't you think?" I challenged her.
"And sleeping In the nude?" Gretchen
played the skeptic.
"That's the way the French sleep, isn't
it?"
She laughed. "Well, I guess Melissa Paxton is
going to be one step ahead of you, tonight."
"Oh, she's been way ahead of me for ages."
I concurred.
"So now's your chance to catch up."
Gretchen blurted out.
I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that one.
Then, miss merit scholar sat up, and began to
unbutton her pajama top.
"Now wait. I wasn't trying to."
"Oh come on," she said. "I hear it's
something that everybody should do at least once in their life." The two
sides of her pajama shirt parted to reveal her two perfect tits, firm, symmetrical,
and proud. She slipped her top completely off, and tossed it on the floor.
"Besides," she continued, laying back and arching her back, plus
wriggling down her pajama pants.
"Last night we did things my way, so it's only
fair to do them your way, tonight." Gretchen played it off as my
initiative.
She looked up at me, all innocent and guileless in
her plain white panties. "Et tu monsieur? Tu ne vas pas te
déshabiller?"
Pardom Muah? I said in my best effort to not appear
uncultured.
“And you, master; Are you going to undress?”
Gretchen said with a wink.
So maybe she really had a headache, last night? And
maybe she'd been just as turned on by Melissa's disrobing as I'd been. Maybe
she just preferred singles to doubles. Like I did.
I stood and made a show of it. I turned off all the
lights but the bathroom, allowing just enough glow so she could see me. Then
pulling my own shirt with my back toward her. I displayed my red-neck seduction
by letting the shirt slide down, off my back.
Still with my back to her (but I could see her
through a wall mirror); I bent over, then wriggled off my own basketball
shorts, sliding them to my knees. I paused a second; what the hell; I reversed
then raised the waistline up so I could hook my elastic brief waistband, then
pulled off my briefs.
“Oui, oui!” she cheered me on. It wasn't like she
hadn't seen what was under them before.
I jumped backward into a back somersault, onto the
bed; and rolled to a landing with my head on my pillow. Then I stretched out my
arms and legs in a luxurious Da Vinci stretch. It did feel good to be naked in
a hotel room, even if it wasn't in Paris.
“Look, Gretchen! I can see an Eiffel Tower!” I said
as my cock pointed skyward.
"How beauteous mankind is!" she cooed as
she wriggled her own panties off, too.
“Our own, one last field trip, tonight?
Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Portland?”
I turned toward her and she turned toward me. There
was absolutely no doubt about how pretty she was. Her attractive face, her
proud tits, her taut stomach, her perfectly rounded hip. Not only pretty but
eminently desirable. As my cock was now frankly announcing. As she was now
frankly aware.
"Sorry," I blushed.
But she didn't seem at all offended. In fact, she
seemed flattered.
I got up and pulled down the bed linens on my side.
She helped, working them under herself. I got back in beside her, the sheets
were silky smooth against our bare skin.
Another Item on the list.
"I didn't tell you everything that was in my
article," I said.
"Oh?" she replied.
"It's who you're supposed to be sleeping with.
In that hotel room in Paris. The one on the; Rue de Whatsit, with the flowers
all around. You're supposed to be sleeping in the nude with your lover."
She didn't respond right away, but she didn't turn
away her gaze. "Mais naturellement, monsieur. Ce serait très bohème,
non?"
“Okay, you gotta help a poor guy out, mademoiselle”
I pleaded. “I feel like I’m missing the best commentary.”
“I’m saying; “But of course,
sir. That would be very bohemian, wouldn't it?”
I reached over and touched her shoulder. She let me
do it. I scooted closer and ran my hand over the soft perfect curve of her hip.
Then I picked up her hand and kissed it while saying; “I hope you like my
Bohemian just as much as I love your French?”
She closed her eyes. I buzzed in even closer and
kissed her perfect nipple, sucking it gently into plumpness, licking it like an
ice-cream cone, up and up, all the way around, greedy not to lose a single
drip.
My hand, meanwhile, continued its exploration: her
posterior nether regions, her lower thigh, the long, lovely valley between her
legs. And at its head a trim, tidy meadow, smooth and soft. And running the
length of the meadow, a pleasant little valley of delights. And as my fingers
probed, the banks of the valley gently yielded to reveal a secret pathway, warm
and moist and promising. And as my fingers explored, the pathway got deeper and
moister; until I found myself at the entrance of a secret cavern, warm and
slippery, deep and exciting.
“Belle, mademoiselle, Oui.”
She was swooning.
I rolled onto her and laid my chest on her tit’s
slowly. I kissed her neck gently and nibbled her earlobe while the weight of my
body settled upon her. She spread her legs wide and wrapped her arms under
mine, then pulled me up, while wrapping her calves around my thighs. My stiff
cock was at the right place.
Now; I know you're supposed to go slow, but
sometimes you just can't help yourself. I hoisted myself up her and she guided
my turgid cock to her warm, slippery entrance. In I plunged. She clamped her
thighs, she clamped her arms. I scooted myself a little further up, the way
Miss Latimer had taught us.
Her thighs were so warm and welcoming, her nipples
so insistent against my chest, her cavern so tight and yet so slick. I closed
my eyes and concentrated on the task at hand. I was the brawny foundry man,
thrusting my ingot of steel into the insistent slippery squeeze of her rolling
mill, thrusting it in; and drawing it out. Thrusting it in until it finally
exploded in a hail of fiery sparks, a blissful shower of molten droplets.
I couldn't really tell if Gretchen had come or not.
She'd gotten wet, she'd let me in, she'd rolled my steel. But whatever she'd
felt herself she'd kept to herself. One of the main lessons that Miss Latimer
was always trying to instill in us was to be aware of our partner's response.
Her Failure to launch.
"Did you come?" I asked.
She didn't reply. I figured she hadn't. But when I
reached over to pet her again she stopped me.
"It's okay," she said.
I cuddled closer. She turned to let me spoon against
her back. I pulled the sheet and blanket up over us and put my arm around her.
But the question still bothered me.
"Can I ask you something?" I asked softly.
She didn't say no.
"When we had sex in class those times I
couldn't really tell either. It always felt like I wasn't doing enough for you.
Was it that way tonight?"
She still didn't reply. She just lay there, soft and
warm in my arms. Okay; if she didn't want to talk about it I wasn't going to
make a federal case. But then she squeezed my arm, ever so slightly.
"It wasn't you, Colt. You’re an amazing lover.”
Then she kissed my hand and laid it to rest on her navel.
Not entirely convincing. But if that was her story,
I wasn't going to argue. I'd just try harder next time. The long day was
catching up to me. The bed was so comfortable. My wrung-out phallus was already
snoozing there between us. I could see Matisse's open window in my mind's eye,
the geraniums, the sailboats rocking in the harbor.
"There's something wrong with my wiring,"
she said quietly. It took me a second to bring my faculties back online.
"I don't feel things the way I'm supposed
to." She was facing away from me, I couldn't see her face.
"When you're inside me I can feel that you're
there, but it doesn't fee