Date: Sat, 13 May 2000 21:56:12 CDT
From: Wendy Evans <we_1965@hotmail.com>
Subject: Frances

In addition to my other teaching duties, I also monitor a study period for
the children I teach in first period.  Study period is held in the school
library and the kids are supposed to work on group assignments, do research,
read, or catch up on missed homework, etc.  Needless to say, they aren't
experts at the Dewey-Decimal system, and when the period is over, my group
goes to lunch, leaving books from the library scattered on the worktables.
Ours is a small school, and we tend to pitch in to help each other.  That's
how my story begins.

One morning, like the many before it, I scooted the children from the
library to head them towards the cafeteria.  I went back to the library and
started to collect the books and reference materials the kids had left on
the desks and tables.  This was rather routine and we encouraged the kids to
leave the books, since we could put them away faster and more accurately
than if they tried to do it themselves.  I had an armful of books,
pre-sorted, and approached the Librarian who was in the process of putting
the books back on the shelves.  Frances is a very prim woman, just about my
age (30-something) and always dressed conservatively -- calf length skirts,
silk blouses, her hair up in a French braid or bun, etc.

Frances was standing on the top of a two-step stool with her back to me, and
as I walked up behind her, my foot tangled with the leg of the stool and I
tripped.  My arms flew out in front of me, my hands dropped the books and I
reached to grab something to stop my fall.  What I grabbed was Frances'
bottom.  My hand flattened against her cheek as I kept pushing breaking my
fall.  Once I had my balance back, I apologized for shoving her, and
squatted down to pick up the books that fell from arms.  Frances came off
the stool and began to help, facing me as she squatted.  As she handed me
the last of the books, she looked directly into my eyes and said, "You know,
if you want to feel my ass, you can use both hands."

With that she stood up and climbed on top of the stool, leaving me red-faced
and speechless.  I wondered if that had been an invitation.  For the several
years that she and I worked at the school, attended the many teacher and
staff meetings, we hardly ever spoke, except to exchange pleasantries.  We
weren't friends, merely acquaintances, and our daily duties generally kept
us separated except for the 45 minutes we shared her library, and most often
I was preoccupied with the students.

As I stood up and turned to hand her the books, I noticed that her legs were
slightly -- very slightly -- bent at the knees, which had the tendency to have
her bottom pushed back to me.  Pleasantly round and firm, it actually looked
very touchable.  I looked to see if I could detect a panty line, and could
not.  Was she pantyless, I wondered.  Not now I told myself as I felt the
tingle in my pussy.  I knew what that would bring -- the dampness and then an
itch that would require attention.

I handed her the remainder of the books, scurried around to collect the rest
of the ones on the tables, sorted them, and pleasantly said goodbye.  As I
left the library, I glanced at my watch and noticed I had thirty minutes
before my after-lunch schedule.  I could go to the faculty cafeteria or I
could spend a few moments `by myself'.  I decided on the latter and walked
across the hallway and entered the lavatory.  To my pleasure, the room was
completely empty and I chose the last stall.  I entered and sat down,
lowering my panties to my ankles and raising my skirt, bunching it around my
tummy.  I opened a couple buttons on my blouse and reached my fingers inside
to rub over my nipples.  As my other hand rubbed over my hairy mound and the
middle finger slid between my lips I could feel the wetness already
beginning to spread.

I enjoy masturbating with my finger running up and down my slit, bumping and
nudging on my clit as I feel it getting larger.  Most often, if I feel the
need to masturbate during the day, I will use a faculty only restroom, to
ensure privacy.  For whatever reason, today I was using a more public girls
room and taking my time rubbing myself when I heard the door open.  I paused
in mid-stroke, worried that I might be caught pleasuring myself, until I
heard one of the other stall doors close.  Determining that I was safe if I
hurried and didn't make too much noise, I went back to fingering myself and
playing with my nipples.

After a few minutes, I realized that who ever was in the other stall was
trying to be as quiet as I was, but wasn't doing as good a job.  When I get
excited, I get very, very wet.  On those occasions when I masturbate using
penetration, my pussy starts singing to me with its squishy and spongy wet
sounds.  Whoever was in the other stall was clearly masturbating, and
penetrating herself, and despite her attempt to be quiet, the sounds were
echoing off the tiled walls.

Her sounds were stimulating and soon I was in the throes of a major orgasm,
and as I listened, so was my lavatory partner.  I gasped as I heard her
moan, and I am sure that we came at the same time.  Collecting myself took
another few minutes, and about the same time that I reached to unroll a
piece of tissue to wipe myself dry I heard the same sound from the other
stall.  After flushing the toilet, and putting myself back in order I left
the stall, sure that I knew what the other person had been doing, and
confident that they could not have been positive about what I might have
been in the middle of.

I walked to the sink and as I turned on the faucet, I quickly ran my finger
beneath my nose, and just as I did, the other stall opened and out stepped
Frances.  She looked at me through the reflection in the mirror and raised
her finger to her own nose.  "Do you ever taste it afterwards?" she asked
just before she popped her middle finger into her mouth, sucking it and
taking it all the way in.  I feigned a look of surprise, as if I had no idea
what she was talking about.  Before I could get the soap on my hands and put
them under the running water, Frances stepped to me and took my right hand.
Passing the middle finger under her nose, she sniffed the finger that
moments before had been running up and down my soaked slit.  She slid the
finger between her lips and sucked on it as she swirled her tongue all
around it.

"Oh, tasty!" she said, "almost as nice as mine" she added with a giggle.  I
was stunned, in all my years of masturbating, I had only been caught a
handful of times.  I really flushed now.  Frances sensed my embarrassment
and pressed her lips against my cheek and gave me a quick and tender kiss.
She moved her lips to my ear and whispered "I really wish you had used both
hands when you played with my ass."  Then she added, "This lavatory is
usually very private this time of day.  See you tomorrow!"  She turned and
walked towards the door, never looking back, and exited the lavatory.  I
turned off the water in the sink, went back into the stall I had been using,
lowered my panties, unbuttoned my blouse and hiked up my skirt.  Frances was
right, this room was private this time of day.  When I came the next time I
wasn't worrying about making noise.  And, I couldn't wait until tomorrow!