Date: Sun, 13 Oct 2002 14:40:55 EDT
From: Louisamay1111@aol.com
Subject: Her Eye is on the Sparrow ch1

    Sister Laura Marciano had never experienced this before.

    She'd been the lay librarian at St. Christina's School for Girls now for
almost eight years, and never had she even a passing thought of. . .well, of
the kind of thing that possessed her now. And that was the word -- possessed.
She felt as if some seductive spirit, some alluring demon of temptation was
at work inside her, creating all these achingly erotic fantasies. There were
moments when she felt she might just faint with desire. And it all started
when little Meg arrived.

    If this young girl hadn't been sent to the school, everything would have
remained the same. Sister Laura's life would have run its serene, routine
course, and no thought would be given to. . .things physical. Indeed, Laura
considered herself not exactly ugly, but plain. Sex was just not in her life,
in any form, and she'd become rather comfortable with that fact. She took an
ascetic pleasure in keeping a tidy and well-organized library, and on very
rare occasions, treated herself to a play or movie. Her Italian-American
family had been rather wild, and Laura had escaped into the calm piety of
Mother Church. She was not a nun mainly because she'd had to care for her
ailing mother for years now, and could not leave the house.

    And now this eleven-year-old girl had turned her inner life upside down.
Meg Thomason had been sent to help her in the library, a sort of student
assistant. Not that Sister Laura needed help, but it was thought to be a good
thing for Meg, who tended to go off on her own in her free time. Not that
little Meg was a delinquent in any way, she just liked new experiences, and
St. Christina's frowned on that kind of behavior.

    At first, the girl's free spirit and frankness were somewhat disturbing
to Sister Laura. To begin with, she moved about quite a bit ("flounced" was
the word that came to mind), and when she sat, had a tendency to behave as if
she were wearing trousers. The librarian frequently had to remind Meg to sit
properly, as the girl had a habit of sitting on a chair with her feet on the
seat, knees up, her white panties open to the air.

    A particularly striking instance of her unusual candor had occurred one
morning while they went through the inventory. As they sat at the conference
table together, Meg, out of nowhere, remarked, "your breasts are so pretty."

    Laura, shocked, looked up at the girl over her glasses.

    "Is that okay for me to say?" Meg's brown eyes were wide. What the
librarian had thought was a crude joke was apparently sincere. "I'm sorry, I
just. . ." the girl grimaced, "that's what I was thinking, and. . . it just
came out."

    Sister Laura felt her face flush. "No, it's. . ." She cleared her throat.
"It's okay." She chuckled, a bit wildly. "Thank you."

    Meg smiled. "I know, it's really weird to just say, isn't it? Jeez,
sometimes I am so stupid."

    "No, really, it's alright." Laura smiled. She adjusted her glasses.
"Although, yes, it is rather . . .odd. To be told . . .something like that."

    "Yeah, it must be." Meg laughed. "Sorry." She looked, quite openly, at
Sister Laura's chest. "But it's true. And. . ." She shook her head slowly,
gritted her teeth. "No, I got to stop saying stuff."

    Sister Laura stared at her assistant, then looked down at her own
breasts. They were sheathed in a white macrame sweater that she'd made
herself years ago. She looked back at Meg, feeling the flush in her face
spread downwards. "What?"

    "What?"

    "You were going to say something else. What was it?"

    "Oh, just that," Meg crinkled her pug nose, "just that they're really
pretty, and. . .they're so. . .big."

    Now Laura blushed hugely, and her eyes and mouth opened wide. The effect
was in fact comical, and Meg burst out laughing.

    The librarian was completely out of her element, and didn't know whether
to feel humiliated or angry, or what. "Are you. . .making fun of me?" she
managed to say in a fairly even voice.

    Immediately, Meg was contrite. "Oh, no. No, I am not making fun of you.
No way. I think you are really cool. I was just. . .your eyes got so big, I
just. . .it was funny." She put her head down on the table. "Oh, man."

    Laura looked down at the little tousled head. What a strange, intriguing
little girl.

    "Meg."

    The girl raised her head sheepishly.

    "I believe you." She smiled. "I probably did look a sight. But it might
not be such a good idea to just. . .blurt out things like. . .how you like a
person's. . .chest. They may not be prepared for it. And they might think. .
.any number of things."

    "I know. You're right." Meg sighed. "I'm sorry."

    "It's alright." Sister Laura looked down at her list. A little smile came
to her lips. "And they're not all that big."

    Meg's head popped up, her elfin face alive again. "Not big in a bad way,
big in a good way. They're really," and she tilted her head as she perused
Sister Laura's breasts once again, "neat."

    "Neat. Thank you."

    "I mean, look at mine." Meg thrust her own tiny chest out. Under her
white school blouse she was wearing a blue leotard top, and she quickly undid
the top few buttons. Laura saw, over her glasses, the girl's little nipples
poking through the material. The breasts themselves were barely evident. Sand
dollars, maybe. Another side of Lenora's brain said, 'Sand dollars?! What are
you thinking??'  She didn't know.

    "They'll grow."

    "Yeah," Meg flopped back, "but not like yours. Yours are great. That's
why I said."

    The librarian stuck to her list on the table. "Well, thank you again.
Now, shall we get back to work?"



    Now she sat in a wire chair in her study, these randy feelings
overwhelming her. It was after six o'clock, and  she'd locked the doors.
She'd removed her skirt and panties. She took off her blouse and bra, and put
on the same white knit sweater she'd been wearing that day. She turned the
chair around and sat, pushing her crotch into the cold metal. She gazed at
herself in the door mirror.

    "I suppose my breasts are rather. . . pretty," she thought. "I've always
considered them kind of dowdy and. . . dumpy. Like the rest of me," she
thought ruefully." "And they are rather big, I guess. . . in a good way." She
giggled, a low, throaty chuckle. She gripped the chair and ground her dark
bush into the wire rim of the chair. "Oh, my," she murmured.

    Leaning in, she smiled at the mirror. "You think my breasts are neat,
little Meg?" Laura reached down and lifted the hem of the sweater up, baring
her breasts. She left the sweater perched atop them and raised her arms over
her head. "Still think they're neat, Meg?" She grinned lewdly, and watched in
lustful astonishment as her full dark nipples grew erect before her eyes.

    The hard chair metal had become warm in the press against her virginal
nether lips. She pressed harder, sensing the almost forgotten feeling of
impending orgasm. Staring into the mirror, she whispered,  "Meg. . .honey. .
.do you want to touch them?"

    At which point she lay her palms on her nipples, lightly at first,
lightheaded with lust, then more roughly. She filled both hands with hot,
rubbery breast and squeezed.  "Oh, oh, God. . . mmm. . .oh, it feels so
good!" She ground herself brutally into the metal. Her orgasm came in a
blinding rush, as she twisted at her raw nipples and shook uncontrollably.
The force of the orgasm took her by surprise, as a small, lucid part of her
mind told her that this was by far the strongest orgasm she'd ever
experienced. And she'd masturbated quite a bit as a teenager.

    Afterwards, sitting slumped, her shame was in proportion to the power of
her orgasm. "What is happening to me? What on earth am I thinking,
fantasizing about a twelve-year-old girl?" (Meg had lied to her.)  She pulled
her sweater back down, and stood. Aloud, to the mirror she said, "No good can
come of this, Laura. Just stop this now." She nodded, and got dressed.

    And she did, for all intents and purposes, and was all business for most
of the rest of the term. At times, Meg seemed to sense a coldness, and sought
to warm it with her own peculiar frank banter. But Sister Laura held firm,
although it was difficult. Particularly in the spring, when inventory had to
be moved and removed. This required the use of a ladder, which Meg insisted
on clambering up, and it took all of the librarian's will not to go home, or
to her study, to fantasize about the sight of little Meg's panty clad bottom
as it revealed itself on the book ladder. Laura would simultaneously dread
and look forward to the task of standing beneath the ladder to receive the
books that Meg retrieved from above.  She had a darling, round little bottom,
and what seemed to be a rather pronounced pudendum, from the prolonged
glimpses Sister Laura was afforded. In fact, it seemed at times that Meg
purposefully raised her arms overly high, or splayed her skirted legs overly
wide to retrieve a book just out of reach. Did Laura notice a twinkle in the
girl's eye when she'd hand the book finally down? The librarian put it out of
her mind, as she determined to do with the whole affair.

    One late spring morning, after mass, Laura was striding back to the
library when young Meg accosted her on the footpath. "Sister!" She looked
around her furtively. "Sister," she spoke in a low voice, "you got to come
with me." Meg took the librarian's hand. "Please?"

    "What is it, Meg?"

    "I can't tell you right now, but it's great, and you'll really like it,
and we have to go NOW. Please? Please, please, please??" She pulled at
Laura's hand.

    "Alright, alright." The librarian let herself be lead off the path, then
followed the girl as she wound her way into the forest that surrounded the
school. It was enjoyable, she had to admit, to be out on such a beautiful
day, and in the company of such an attractive little sprite. (Watch it.)

    Meg traveled at such a pace, and so far, that eventually Sister Laura
became somewhat annoyed. "Meg? Where are we going? This is outside the school
property, isn't it?" Meg just kept walking. "I really don't think we should
be doing this."

    When she had finally made up her mind to put a stop to this, Meg stopped.
She looked back at Laura, grinning.

    The librarian caught up to her charge. "Well? What?"

    Meg continued to smile and pointed. Lenora looked, and opened her mouth
in astonishment.

    It was a lake. Probably more of a pond, but big enough that they couldn't
see the other side. Off to one side was a small waterfall. Meg walked a few
steps towards it, and they came out onto a rocky ledge.

    Laura was impressed. "Meg," she said, looking out, "when did you find
this?"

    Meg was sitting on the ledge taking off her shoes. "A few days ago. I had
to show you." She smiled, finished taking off her shoes and socks, and stood.
"It's beautiful, isn't it? Ever time I`ve been here I`ve never seen anybody
else." She began unbuttoning her sleeveless school blouse.

    "Yes, it is beautiful." Laura was now aware of what Meg was doing. "Meg."

    The girl had now removed her shirt and was shuffling out of her plaid
skirt. "Yeah?"

    "What are you doing?"

    Meg had unsnapped her bra, and was hooking her thumbs into the waistband
of her underpants.

    "Going swimming, silly." She pulled her underpants down to her knees.

    "Wait!" Laura was not prepared for this. The sight of Meg's bare body,
her little tomboy slit--- "At least wear your underpants. You never know,"
she finished, lamely.

    "Okay. . ." Meg hitched her panties back up, her slit still quite visible
as the material sunk in. "They're going to get all wet. . ." She walked to
the edge and looked around. "Oh well. Here goes." And she jumped in.

    She stayed under a long time. Laura had started to get worried, when up
the girl popped, grinning. "Had ya worried, didn't I?"

    Sister Laura scowled over her glasses. "Yes you did. That wasn't very
nice."

    "Sorry."

    "No you're not."

    Meg squinted, then grinned again. "Nope. You're right. I'm not." And she
dove like a seal, panty bottom last.

    She came up again, spouting. "Woo woo! This is great! Come swimming!"

    Laura stood on the ledge. She shook her head. "I'm not dressed for it."

    "Well either am I!"

    All Laura could do was shake her head.

    Presently Meg climbed out. She gathered her clothing. "Look. I got
something else to show ya."

    Through some trees and over a worn path, they came to a kind of wooden
shelter. It, too, looked out over the lake. Meg shivered. "I have a towel
here somewhere. Ah, here we go." And she wrapped her nearly naked body in the
white cloth. When she started to unpeel her underpants, Laura turned away.

    They walked back, stopping at the ledge. Meg lay on her stomach and
watched the dragonflies. Her skirt was school-length short, and Laura saw
what appeared to be the shadow of nakedness underneath.

"Better be careful when you get back." Meg looked around.  Laura raised her
eyebrows. "Since you don't have any bloomers."

    "Yeah." Meg thought a bit. "Turn around for a second, I'll make it
better."

    Laura did so.

    "Okay," Meg called, "how's this?"

    Laura turned, and was shocked to see that, far from `making it better',
Meg had flipped her skirt up over her waist, leaving her bottom open to the
air. There was her plump, almost fat little vagina, and that bottom, smooth
and whiter than the tanned, lithe legs, which were spread so wide that Lenora
could discern the girl's little anus. Lenora felt herself redden. Meg was
grinning.

    "Gotcha, didn't I!"

    Laura just could not look away. "Yes," in as even a voice as she could
manage, "you got me alright." The little girl really didn't know that at that
moment, Laura wanted desperately to kneel down and bury her face between
those young thighs, to kiss and suck, to nurse at that ripe, fat little
vagina.

    Meg sensed something, though nothing like the truth, for she turned back
to the pond, and rearranged her skirt. "I guess we have to go back."

    "I guess so." Laura was a pyre of desire. She made a decision.


                    *******

(I'll keep going with "Sat. AM"; I just wanted to branch out a bit. Like it
so far?)