Date: Mon, 21 Oct 2002 17:24:42 EDT
From: Louisamay1111@aol.com
Subject: Kimberly's View ch2

    The turning point in their relationship was, fittingly enough, Bastille
Day. July 14th. Michelle had arrived, as usual, at 3:30 for her one-hour
lesson, and had sat at the piano quietly. As Miss Amselle spoke to her of
Debussy, Michelle looked down, her lower lip trembling.

    "Michelle?" Michelle continued to look at the floor. A tear ran down her
cheek and fell silently to the floor. She felt Madame's cool hand at her chin
and raised her head. "Oh, my dear, what is it?" Immediately, Madame sat at
her side on the bench and put an arm round her thin shoulders. "Hmm?"

    Michelle's lip trembled again, and her small features wrinkled up. She
sniffed, then let out a sob.

    "Ohh, baby, zere, zere," crooned Madame as she pulled the girl close.
Michelle wept into her teacher's warm, gently rocking embrace. "It's alright,
little Michelle, it's alright. . ." She raised her head slightly as
Kimberly's head just peeked through the doorway, and nodded. Kimberly put her
hands to her mouth and moved back.

    After a time, and a few kisses and kleenexes, and a glass of water. .
.Michelle began, "It's just. . ." she sighed. "It's not fair." Michelle was
sitting in the big, low easy chair, and her teacher sat cross-legged at her
feet. Madame just watched Michelle, her beautiful black eyebrows slightly
raised. "Oh, it's just so. . .stupid!" and she buried her face in her hands.

    "Hey." Michelle felt a tickling on her toes. "Hey." Madame's honeyed
voice itself seemed to be doing the tickling. Michelle giggled into her hands
and looked up into Madame Amselle's large, dark, and kindly eyes. "Nussing is
stupeed. Hmm? Nussing. And especially," as she held Michelle's foot now and
began to lightly massage it, "Especially if it makes you cry."

    Madame's hands on her hot, damp little foot was heavenly. Michelle leaned
back into the chair and enjoyed it. "I know. . ." she mused. "It's stupid of
me to be so upset about it, I guess. HEY! That Tickles!!" Miss Amselle had
run a nail along the sole of Michelle's foot.

    "And I will do it again and again if you say zat silly, silly word
again." Madame's eyes gleamed, but Michelle knew she was serious about this.
It caused a little jump in Michelle's heart, that Madame could care like
that.

    "I won't. You're right." A pause, as Miss Amselle continued to absently
stroke and caress her pupil's foot, and Michelle considered how to talk about
the reason for her tears. Oh, just tell her! You want to! Michelle blushed.

    Madame saw immediately. "What, Michelle?"

    Michelle stared at the woman intently. Finally: "Oh, it was. . .just, in
the locker room at school, Christine and all the girls were making fun of me
'cause of. . .my. . ."

    "Your. . .?"

    "My BOOBS! My BOOBS!! Or, my No-Boobs, my. . ." and she blushed again,
this time from chest to hairline.

    Madame had a big toe in her hand. "Your. . .nipples?"

    Michelle's grew big, and she breathed a great sigh. "YES!" She threw
herself back. "My stupid NIPPLES! OWWW! Okay, okay!! Not stupid, not stupid!"
She was giggling again, a painful kind of giggle.

    "Sshh, sshh, sshh. . ." Madame held Michelle's feet together, her hands
firm and still. "Not stupeed. No. Good." She looked up into Michelle's pained
young eyes. "Why do zey make fun of your nipples?"

    Michelle sighed, resigned. "Because. . .they say they're long and. .
.weird and. . .they look like worms," she muttered.

    "Like worms?"  And Michelle nodded.

    "Well." Madame patted Michelle's feet a few times, then said, "I want to
show you somesing." And she let go of the feet.

    Michelle, expecting to get up and follow Madame, put her feet on the
floor; but instead the woman simply knelt up in front of her and pulled her
loose T-shirt over her head. Michelle gaped. Madame saw this and smiled.
"Yes, it's not every day your teacher shows you her boobies. But," she said
as she reached back to undo the clasp of her padded bra, "I sink zis is
important." Her tongue stuck out a bit in concentration, and then she had it.


    Michelle could only hold her breath as Madame Amselle brought her hands
forward and slowly let the bra fall from her breasts. Soft, tan, rubbery
cones, almost cylindrical in their prominence, with large, dark coins of
nipple at their center. Gorgeous.

    Madame watched Michelle's awestruck little face, then looked down at her
beauties. "You see?" She touched a fingertip to a nipple and Michelle watched
it harden and grow instantly. And grow, and grow! The surrounding aureole
grew into it and became the nipple, too. Like her own! Madame looked up
again, smiling. "You see? Do you like my little worms?" Michelle could only
smile and nod.

    "Here," and Madame moved closer to the chair, to kneel between Michelle's
legs. She turned slightly, offering a breast towards Michelle. "Do you want
to make ze ozzer grow?" Michelle drew a shaky breath and nodded. She reached
out a tentative hand, giddily amazed that she was about to touch Madame
Amselle's nipple! She felt a warm gushing sensation in her belly. Delicately,
she touched a tiny fingertip to her teacher's soft, rubbery nipple. Madame
closed her eyes and Michelle kept her finger poised in midair as she watched
her teacher's other nipple rise and grow erect.

    Miss Amselle breathed deeply, and opened her eyes. Michelle's eyes were
wide, her little hand out. Her teacher stretched her arms up like a cat.
"Mmmm. . . You see?" And she brought her hands down to cup her breasts from
underneath, then spread her fingers to trap a nipple in each hand. She looked
down as her fingers caught, squeezed, pulled, and released the distending
nipples, then looked up again at Michelle, who was rapt. "Here," and Madame
took Michelle's small hand and gently placed it on a breast, which was almost
all nipple now. "Feel it. Twirl it around in your fingers, like zis." As she
twisted one nipple in her own forefingers, Michelle, fascinated, excited, a
bit scared even, twirled the other one between her little fingers. As she did
so, she looked into Madame's eyes. Madame gazed back into hers and began to
breathe deeply through her nose.

    Michelle was surprised, somehow, when Madame then seemed to get shy for a
moment: her eyes fluttered, her mouth opened, and she actually BLUSHED! She
sat back on her heels abruptly, and took a deep breath. "Ooh, la-LA!" she
breathed. Her nipples stood out, swollen, dark, but white at the very tips,
and facing outwards. She looked again at Michelle.

    "So. You see how I. . . I feel very strongly about zis. You, little
Michelle," and she knelt up again to touch the girl's nose, "you are
beautiful! And zese silly, stupeed girls---oui, yes, STUPEED! --- do not know
a beautiful body from a hole in zere own bottoms!" Michelle put a hand to her
mouth and giggled. Madame smiled as well. "But --- NOW do you see? Zat what
zey say has no truth, and is mere envy for your beauty? What? What,
Michelle?"

    For Michelle was on the verge of telling Madame the other mockery, the
one that had actually seemed the most cruel, and it showed in her face. But
it was just too embarrassing, and besides, maybe this other difference of
hers WAS freakish. Perhaps it would even put off Madame. . .a thought too
mortifying to consider. She shook her head, a little too vigorously.
"N--nothing. Really, it's nothing. No."

    "Michelle. . ." Madame Amselle, kneeling between her legs, leaned in and
put both hands on the girls' thighs. Michelle looked up at the ceiling, then
down again at the woman's concerned and expectant face.

    A long pause. Madame waited, lightly patting Michelle's thin bare legs.
The girl made a face, then relaxed. "Well, umm. . .the thing is. . ." She
concentrated on Madame's bare breasts, and somehow it helped. Her little-girl
voice went on: "The thing is, I have this. . .extra. . .thing. . .in my. . .I
mean, coming out of my. . ." It exasperated her, not being able to explain.
She pointed a curling little finger at her crotch.

    "Your vagina?"

    Michelle nodded, keeping her eyes on the boobs.

    "Is zat what you call it?"

    Michelle's eyes went to her teachers'. She hesitated then shook her head.

    "'Vagina' is such a strange word, isn't it?" Madame smiled. "It's like we
have a foreign country between our legs!" One hand which rested on Michelle's
leg began "walking", two-fingered, towards the girl's crotch area. The other
hand "called out" to its walking neighbor: "'Hey, where are you going?" The
walking fingers called back, "'I'm going to Vagina!'" "'Where's zat?'" And
the walking finger stopped and pointed directly down to little Michelle's
crotch. Michelle giggled.

    "When I was a little girl, my sister and I called our vaginas our
"poche", or our 'pochette", or just our "trou" if we were being vulgar."

    "What's "poche" mean?"

    "My pocket. Or my "little pocket". Michelle smiled.

    "Poche." Miss Amselle smiled.

    "La belle pochette." Michelle blushed. A pause.

    "My tingle." She blushed again.

    "Your tingle?" Michelle nodded. "I like zat. Your Tin-gle. Hmm. It sounds
like you are peeing, but it feels nice, too, yes?" She smiled.

    "I---I guess so. It does. . .feel nice. Sometimes." And now Michelle felt
herself REALLY blushing.

    "And so it should. Mine does, too, much of zee time." Madame let out a
sigh, and almost to herself:"Too much, I sink sometimes. . ." She seemed to
shake herself, and put both hands firmly on Michelle's thighs again. "So.
Zese girls at school, in your locker room, are making fun of your tingle?"
Michelle nodded. Because you have. . .what?"

    Michelle sighed. Her small pixie face was glum at the dilemma of not
being able to make Madame understand! "My. . . my tingle has. . .ummm. . ."
Her voice was so tiny! "Umm. . .some pieces of my tingle are. . .kind of. .
.bigger, or. . . kind of. . ." she searched wildly for a word, ". . .floppy,"
Oh MY GOD, I can't believe I just said my tingle was FLOPPY! Madame is just
going to throw UP. I am such a loser. . .

    And indeed Miss Amselle was taking a deep breath and leaning BACK, still
kneeling up, but now with her arms crossed over her beautiful breasts. Oh
boy, thought Michelle, did I blow it.

    Madame had a strange look on her face. She stared at little Michelle for
some time, and Michelle just didn't know what to make of it.

    "Oh, Michelle, Michelle, Michelle. . ." Miss Amselle murmured. The girl
was shattered. She'd thought. . .but no, how STUPID of her to tell this to
her best, most dear friend! She realized that right then. Her dearest friend.
. .

    "Michelle?" Madame had leaned in again, now resting her forearms lightly
on the girl's upper thighs. Molly looked just down at the woman. "Do you want
to show me?"

    Michelle was stunned. It couldn't be for a freak show, Madame seemed
quite as loving as always. But to show Madame Amselle her bare tingle! She
felt her blush wash over her whole upper body.

    "You don't have to," Madame whispered, "but I sink I can help you feel a
lot better about how you look," she pointed, "down zere. . ." she smiled
knowingly. "I give you a hint: if you show me yours. . ."

    Michelle whispered back, in a tiny voice: "you'll. . . show me yours?"
Madame nodded very lightly.

    Michelle was surprised at the flood of pleasure that rushed into her
tingle. She worried for a moment that she may have just accidently peed.
"Okay," she murmured. Miss Amselle slowly stood, offering her student a hand.
Michelle took the hand, and stood, lightheaded, before the chair. She looked
at her teacher for a long moment, wondering what to do. Miss Amselle looked ri
ght back at her, a bemused look in her eye. The woman was still
bare-breasted, her nipples out in force. She wore a light, pastel-patterned
peasant skirt. Michelle looked down at her own shorts, then up again at
Madame. With a smile, Madame finally relented.

    "Here," offering her hand, "come to ze Princess Michelle Mirror, my
dear," she intoned, and brought Michelle to stand before the large, familiar
glass. "So we can both look togezzer, hmm?"

    By now Kimberly had removed her jeans. She stood just inside the opposite
room, breathless. From where she stood looking through the door crack, she
saw
her daughter and lover stand looking into the tall mirror, at the image of
young Michelle in her too-short yellow shirt and white tennis shorts,
standing somewhat stiffly before the bare-chested Miss Amselle, whose hands
rested lightly on the girl's slim hips. Feeling an odd combination of shame
and lust, she drew two fingers down her panties, atop her softening groove,
and sighed.

    "Do you want to take off your shorts, or do you want me to?" Michelle
blushed and looked up at her teacher's reflection in the mirror.

    "I think. . .you," she murmured.

    "You honor me, my Princess." Michelle smiled. Miss Amselle tucked a thumb
under the shorts waistband and popped the snap. Michelle heard the woman's
breath as she slowly lowered the shorts' zipper. "Ready?" Their eyes met as
Madame's hands prepared to pull the pants down. Michelle nodded.

    "Down zey come," and Miss Amselle watched herself slowly tug the girl's
shorts down, down over her robin's-egg blue little panties with the tiny
white bow at the top, to the top of her smooth, slim thighs. Then they slid
down themselves to lie in a small heap at her feet. "Zair we are. . .step
out," Madame's soft voice was like an angel's.

    Michelle stood, so small, so vulnerable, in her light-blue girl's panties
and short yellow shirt. The shirt was short enough to bare her tiny inny
navel. Michelle felt Madame's warm breath on her neck.

    "Michelle?" her hands lay again on the girl's hips.

    "Hmm?" The girl seemed somewhat entranced, her hands held slightly out
and away from her body. She held the woman's gaze.

    "Do you want to show me?"

    Michelle stared at her teacher and nodded. Her lip trembled.

    Miss Amselle's hands smoothed Michelle's hips up, down. "Do you want me
to take your panties off?" Again, the girl nodded.

    Her teacher bowed slightly. "Then I will." Now her long thumbs tucked
into the elastic and tugged lightly downwards. They both watched in the
mirror as the cotton panties slowly descended. Michelle's white, naked mound
was revealed first, then the beginning of her slit. When her panties reached
the bottom edge of her little crack, Michelle edged her legs apart slightly,
helping the careful fingers of her teacher. This little garment would not
slide down of its own accord, so Miss Amselle knelt, her face just inches
from Michelle's creamy little bottom, and brought the panties down to the
girl's ankles. Michelle demurely stepped one foot, then the other, out.

    Michelle was now naked but for her little shirt. Miss Amselle stood and
held her breath. The little girl's face was flushed with embarrassment,
excitement, daring. . .she kept her eyes on her teacher's. Kimberly's fingers
circled slowly through her damp panties.

    "Michelle. . .," breathed Miss Amselle. "You are. . .beautiful." Her lips
were slightly parted as she gazed at Michelle's bare pudendum.

    What was so striking, so uniquely desirable, was the little tongue-like
protrusion that emerged out of Michelle's cunny crack. The slit started out
innocently enough above, in the puffy little pocket of her mound, but then it
opened up as it went down, pushed apart by a pair of little-girl labia that
were so big and bold as to sprout out and down like a small, pink, and
shrivelled penis. As Michelle looked, her lip began to tremble again, and a
tear rolled down her cheek.

    "Michelle," the honeyed voice whispered in her ear, "Michelle. . .I mean
it when I say zat. You are beautiful." She placed her hands on the girl's
hips again. "Your. . .tin-gle. . .it is beautiful." And Madame Amselle leaned
down to kiss Michelle lightly on her neck.

    Michelle felt her knees tremble. When Miss Amselle straightened, she
noticed a tiny glistening on Michelle's lower pussy lip. Taking a deep
breath, the woman spoke quietly. "Let me show you somesing. Spread your
legs." Michelle shuffled her feet outwards. The little hanging lips parted
slightly.

    "Now. I want to show you somesing, but I need your permission. I want to
touch you zair," Michelle's eyebrows rose, "but only if you tell me zat it is
alright. Is it alright?" Michelle nodded solemnly. "You're sure?"

    "Yes." Michelle murmured firmly. "I want you to." She blushed.

    Madame smiled. "Alright. Good." Her hands came around from the girl's
fine hips to meet in front. Two fingers of each hand very lightly touched
Michelle's large labia. Both student and teacher watched, fascinated, the
reflection of Madame's fingers. With infinite care, the long fingers
delicately grasped the putty-like, separate folds and pulled them slowly,
slowly apart. Michelle's little hips jutted imperceptibly forward and her
tongue did likewise. When Miss Amselle had pulled to a length of almost two
inches, she stopped. The little dark, pink wings were still soft, not taut
but firm.

    In the adjoining room, her mother reached inside her own panties and
stroked her own labia. They were slick.

    "My little butterfly," Madame whispered, and Michelle smiled, the tip of
her tongue between her teeth. Her teacher then began to gently twist the
soft, rubbery lips between her fingers, just slightly squeezing the fat
little membranes. Michelle took a deep breath.

    "Does that hurt?" Madame stopped for a moment.

    Michelle shook her head briefly. "No. . .no."

    "No?"

     Michelle shook her head again. She looked down, then up again at her
teacher. "Should it?"

    This time Madame Amselle smiled. "No, no." Her fingers started moving
again. "In fact," she mused, "it probably feels good."

    Michelle's cheeks flushed, and her hips moved out slightly. She looked
down again at Madame's fingers. After a pause, in which a new sound could be
heard, a small, sticky sound, she murmured, "it does." She looked up into
Madame's smiling, serious eyes. Michelle smiled and shut her eyes for a
moment, savoring the warm, thrilling sensation of Madame Amselle's fingers
fondling her tingle. The woman glanced to her right and smiled. Michelle
opened her eyes again to Madame's wonderful gaze. The feeling in her tingle
got even better. "It does," she repeated. "It does feel good."

    "I'm glad," her teacher murmured. "Your tingle, little Michelle, your
special little beautiful tingle, was made by God to feel good." Her fingers
now began stroking the fat, now wet, little lips upwards and outwards,
slicking with the agile fingers of both hands over the girl's opening slit.

    Michelle began circling her bottom, wagging her hips lazily back and
forth. Her head lolled back against Miss Amselle's thick-nippled breast, and
the teacher kissed her bared neck, sliding her open mouth along the soft,
downy skin.

    This brought out a moan from Michelle, which surprised her. She felt such
a deep, building excitement -- whem Madame kissed her neck like that, the
feeling went shooting into her tingle, and then outwards again, like a big,
lovely wave. Michelle was moving like a crazy person, she knew, but she just
didn't care. It felt too good. "Ohhh. . . Madame!"

    This was too much for Kimberly, and she had to sit quietly back on the
bed behind her before she fainted. She listened, her fingers moving deeply
inside herself, to the sounds of her young daughter being brought to orgasm.

    Michelle's legs had spread even further and her slim hips swivelled and
bucked. One hand had gone up to grab Miss Amselle's head, while the other
grabbed the woman's busily working hand, which now had fingers inside the
girl's little hole as well as up and along the cunny trail. Michelle began to
cry out. "Ohh, gosh, oooOOOOOOhh, Madame, I. . .oooh, I can't
mMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAHHHHHHHH!!  aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHhhh!!!! OOhhh!!! ooOOOHH!!
OHh!"

    "Mmmm. . .mmph. . !" her mother grunted, coming right along with her.


    Madame worked and pressed on the little pulsing clit as little Michelle's
body jerked against her, as the girl came and cried. . . With a last wordless
spasm, Michelle fell back against her teacher, who held her tightly.

    Michelle opened her eyes and, seeing Miss Amselle's smiling, tearful
face, immediately turned and flung her arms about her neck. The woman
straightened, scooping her student up by her warm bottom, and Michelle
gratefully wrapped her thin legs around her teacher's waist. They stood for a
long moment like that, Michelle's face buried in Miss Amselle's fragrant
neck; the teacher's hands stroking Michelle's head, neck, back. . .bottom.
Crooning little comforts into her ear, "what a good girl! My brave girl!
That's my brave girl, quelle brave! Ohh, quelle brave!!. . ."

    Presently Michelle's tear-streaked face came up and she looked her
teacher directly in the eye. She smiled shyly. "Ummm. . .is that what you
wanted to show me?"

    Miss Amselle's face broke into a big grin, and then she started to laugh.
She hugged her little lover close, then pulled back to look into HER eyes.
"How did you know, little one? DID you know? No, how could you? Oh, Michelle,
Michelle, MICHELLE!!" And she spun a few pirhouettes over to the big couch,
Miss Amselle called out, "Hold on! and let your feet go! Okay. . ." then,
dramatically, flopped backwards onto it. " Yaaaaahh!!"

    "AAAaaahh!!"

    They landed safely with the twelve-year-old cuddled in her teacher's
arms. On an impulse, she leaned up and planted a quick kiss on one of Miss
Amselle's breasts, right on the long, hard nipple, then just as quickly dove
back into the comfort of her teacher's neck.

    "Well!" murmured the woman. Her hand brushed a soft, brown hair off the
girl's blushing, half-hidden face. "Well, well, well. . ."

    A tiny voice at her shoulder: "What did you mean, 'How did I know?' How
did I know what?"

    Miss Amselle's hand stroked the girl's back. "Ohhhh, Michelle. . ." She
traced a lazy circle on the girl's bottom cheek, which instantly squeezed,
then released. "Michelle, Michelle, Michelle," she murmured.

    The tiny voice: "I love it when you say, 'Michelle, Michelle, Michelle'.
. ."

    "Do you?" Miss Amselle smiled, and kissed the head once, *smack*. She
squeezed the bottom cheek, which squeezed back. "Well
Michelle-Michelle-Michelle, I must tell you ziss. . ." She sighed deeply.
"From ze first day when I saw you in my French Class, I sought, ohh, no, ZERE
is a girl I could fall in love with!"

    Michelle's flushed, crushed-up face instantly came up, a look of wild joy
and disbelief on it. "REALLY?? You REALLY thought that??? REALLY???"

    Miss Amselle smiled into the girl's wide eyes. "Really."

    Michelle's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Her eyes were
full of joy, and indecision.

    Madame still smiled. She decided. In her low, knowing voice, she said,
"Do you want to kiss me?"

    This was the question Michelle didn't know how to ask! She took a deep
breath, and breathed out a heartfelt "YES!"

    Her teacher placed two hands on Michelle's blushing cheeks and gently,
softly, kissed her little lips. The girl responded by kissing her back,
tasting the woman's ripeness. Miss Amselle's lips parted and Michelle eagerly
snuggled her own lips inside, now feeling the woman's teeth against her. She
felt the soft, smooth tongue touch and sweep her lips, and opened her mouth
further to welcome the sweet invader. It came, burrowing, and Michelle
started feeling the dizzy, hot, exploding feeling again. She sucked on the
slowly moving, insistent tongue, wanting it, needing it all the way inside
her. . .

    She felt the loving fingers at her tingle . . .her head came up, she
whispered into the woman's face, "could you. . .put your fingers inside of
me. . .please," she stared, blushing, at her lover, her teacher!  at her
teacher's wet, open mouth; "I love it when you put your fingers inside of me.
. .I want ALL of you inside of me!" Wanting to say more, but not having the
words, the little girl greedily dove back to her teacher's mouth, seeking the
wonderful tongue, feeling the fingers go in, filling her. . . Michelle lost
herself in a frenzy of love, whining, moaning, then calling out in
uncontrollable passion.

    Her mother lay naked in the other room. She listened, and wept silently,
joyfully.


                *******************

(If you like this, don't be afraid to let me know. I'd love to hear your
thoughts, fantasies, and experiences.    xLouisa)