Catholic College Girl Tryst

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My girlfriend is usually very shy, but not always.

She has eyes with flecks of gold in them and soft brown hair that casually circles around the outside of her breasts. Sometimes she puts it up into a bun when she’s hot, and pieces of it fall down her long neck. She’s one of those beautiful people who doesn’t know it.

When we first started dating, I found a Catholic college uniform in her closet, and mentioned it. She began to tell me about her school days at an all-girls Catholic school, a few of which were especially memorable.

She’d worn the uniform that all other girls did — a white cotton button down shirt, a wool skirt, opaque tights and flats. She was a very good student, and her head was always in a book when the bell rang and startled her. Tugging a bit at her skirt, which was always becoming askew at the slightest disturbance, she would go to class, eager to learn everything there was to know about whatever the subject. If she knew the right answer, she’d shoot her hand up and gasp a little with the exertion, begging the professor to call on her so she could get all the right answers. My girlfriend was an outlier in the glass because the rules were that you weren’t supposed to move around or make noise during class. Most of the girls sat in rows, perfectly still, backs straight, legs crossed, receptively gazing up at the professor for instruction.

Eventually, she got so far ahead of the class, that she stopped paying attention to the professor and started looking around her for more interesting ways to pass the time. The girl who sat directly in front of her, she remembered, was a redhead who used pineapple shampoo and loved to whistle to pass the time. She would always wear panties with patterns on them – sometimes big red cherries, sometimes green bows, even jumping reindeer during Christmastime. Since my girlfriend was only allowed to wear white cotton underwear (occasionally, her mom would playfully lift her skirt to make sure she was wearing the proper type), she became fascinated by this classmate who got to break all the rules. It got to the point where she needed to start each class by knowing what type of panties the redhead was wearing today.

At the start of every class, the redhead would lean forward in her seat and, sometimes, my girlfriend could see which panties she chose to wear that morning. They’d be poking out between her white cotton dress shirt and wool skirt, right below the freckles on her lower back, and the game would be over immediately. But other times, the space between the istanbul escort shirt and the skirt would be closed, and my girlfriend would be forced to pay attention to the boring professor again. Fortunately the redheaded girl who was also a great student, would shift her posture a seemingly endless number of times, numb with agony at how slow the class was going. Each time she moved, she got closer and closer to revealing her panties to my girlfriend. It was very distracting.

“Are you watching me?” the redhead asked during a hot day in early May. When she shifted her weight, my girlfriend noticed it was a melon day. Seemed like everyone was thinking about summer.

“What?” my girlfriend said, blushing.

“Are you watching me?

“Please stop talking” the professor said, and the conversation ended.

After class, my girlfriend went to the bathroom. Her wool skirt was scratching her thighs, and her calves were a little sore from the long run she’d taken that week. Her body was a little bit tired, in need of a recharge. As she sat there on the toilet, she tried to forget the redhead’s question. It had to have meant something though. She reached down to touch herself, and jerked her hand away, surprised by how wet she was. Her white cotton underwear was soaked, and she looked at it taught around her ankles inside her black tights.

She heard the door of the bathroom open, and heard someone whistling. She felt her pulse beating faster, more blood rush suddenly to her pussy. The person came in and stood right outside the stall door. My girlfriend couldn’t breathe. The only thing she could do was sit there with her panties around her ankles and get wetter and wetter.

“Hey it’s V. I know you’ve been watching me in class,” the redhead said finally.

My girlfriend stayed as quiet as possible. Her white cotton shirt was gapping more than usual as her nipples hardened.

“Are you going to admit it?”

She heard V moving on the other side of the door, and saw one of her feet lift up, and then the other one. She closed her eyes, so embarrassed at how turned on she was. When she opened them, she saw V’s melon panties in front of her. She picked them up, and they were as wet as hers.

In a trance she opened the stall door. V was looking at her with a warm smile, the freckles on her beautiful nose moving when she did. She shifted her weight into her right hip, then her left. Her tights were stretched so you could see how worn they were in both knees. Without avcılar escort a word, she came into the stall and closed the door.

“Can I show you something?” she whispered.

My girlfriend nodded.

V put one finger to her full lips, and giggled. She lifted her plaid uniform skirt, and her hand traveled down through her red mound of hair and began to rub her wet clit with her index and middle fingers. She had fresh blue nail polish that disappeared inside her pussy, as my girlfriend watched her.

“Do you want to kiss me?” she said.

My girlfriend nodded, standing up from the toilet, eyes closed. Her face tickled from the hair and then she was suddenly kissing, and their lips were finding each other, again and again, in all the right ways. She opened her mouth to let V’s tongue come into her mouth, meeting her tongue and then diving deeper. The stall started to smell like them. Every time my girlfriend started to whimper with pleasure, V would cover her mouth. They couldn’t afford to make any sounds without being discovered.

V unbuttoned my girlfriend’s shirt and began to suck on her hard nipples. She’d never experienced anything like that before, but suddenly she felt like she knew what she needed.

“Can you bite them?” she said.

V obliged and my girlfriend bit her right wrist to stop herself from moaning, the pleasure was so intense. Her legs were still bound together by her panties and tights, held in place by cotton and teeth. She squirmed, trying to break free of V’s warm sucking mouth on her nipples, and then she just stopped, powerless, letting it happen again and again.

When she hadn’t felt V’s mouth for a few moments, she opened her eyes. She saw V’s skirt was hanging on the door hook, and then felt V’s enthusiastic mouth again on her pussy. V was kneeling expertly on the bathroom, the beautiful curves of her freckled ass completely exposed, propped up on her uniform flats. As V’s mouth worked her clit, she watched her ass move quietly with the effort.

She became unable to stand, and sank down to the ground, so V could have more room to work. Silently, in between gasps of pleasure, she prayed that no one else would come in the bathroom and see them. If you were in either of the adjacent stalls, you could see V’s blue nail polish darting in between her labia, and the bottoms of her flats bending violently, almost breaking in half, while on the other side you would see my girlfriend’s wool skirt pull up to her bellybutton, her full hips becoming redder and şirinevler escort redder with the discomfort of being pleasured on a hard tile floor. If they were discovered, they’d be suspended, or just kicked out of school entirely.

The door of the bathroom opened, and they heard the muffled sound of headphone music. Both girls froze, then stood up, suddenly very thirsty and dizzy. V climbed on top of the toilet and motioned for my girlfriend to join. Over the top of the stall, they saw T, another girl from their class. They ducked down quickly, barely maintaining their balance on the toilet seat. T was trying to open the door of their stall. The girls were mind-numbingly aroused, but they kept their cool. T gave up and walked towards the sink. They heard the sound of water running. When they looked over the top of the stall again, T was topless, trying to eliminate a stain on her shirt. She had a dancer’s body, and she made everything she did look natural and effortless. As she scrubbed, her boobs jiggled rhythmically, as she concentrated at the sink.

With wetness coating the insides of their thighs already, it became impossibly difficult to balance on the toilet seat undetected. V held my girlfriend’s arms to keep her from fainting, until T finally finished scrubbing, put her shirt back on, and left the bathroom.

They had 3 minutes to report to their next class. The professor didn’t allow you to be late. They would have to make it quick.

“We don’t have much time,” said V.

My girlfriend nodded.

“You have 30 seconds.”

V got back down on her knees, with her perfect ass in the air, as my girlfriend sat on the cold floor and spread her legs. But instead of putting her mouth back where it belonged, she started to count.


She looked at V, wondering when she would start with her mouth, but she just kept counting.


Startled, my girlfriend started furiously rubbing her pussy, trying to mirror the same motions that V had done. The pressure of V’s counting made it like a deadline, and, being the straight-A student she was, she loved deadlines.

“That’s it…15…14…hurry…13…12…”

“Can you —?”

“Cheat, you mean?”

“Yeah I need your mouth”

V’s amazing tongue flicked in and out, her blue nail polish fingers filling her tight pussy, pushing all the way into her.

“Count again.”


My girlfriend screamed as the bathroom swam in her eyes.

V was writhing in her orgasm, heaving and moaning and rolling on the floor, her bare legs squeezed together shuddering with pleasure. My girlfriend lay on her stomach, nipples on fire, enjoying the cool relief of the tiles.

Neither of them was able to move for a long time after that, and so that was how the school nurse found them hours later.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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