From: cquinn@wincom.net Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: REPOST: "Martine", by Clint Quinn (m,F, teacher, high school student) Date: Tue, 23 Jan 1996 12:17:37 GMT Organization: Zippo Message-ID: <DLMvnw.FwG@news.zippo.com> For those of you had trouple decoding "Martine", here it is again inplain text; feedback is welcome and appreciated! Happy New Year! :-)Clint Quinn Martine and Chris English is the last class of the day, and the knot in mystomach grows as the day slogs along. I silently cursemyself for submitting my story for class; I should have givenher the funny one, I tell myself. Or the science fictionone. But it's too late. I've got to face the music, and I knowI won't like the tune. I sit like a zombie through the second-last class of theday, French. Automatically I answer questions about properconjugation and tenses, then it's two-fifteen and time tomove on. I arrive for English in the middle of a group, trying tobe inconspicuous. I see Mrs. Vega glance at me, her darkbrown eyes piercing, her small lips fixed. Then she beckonsme to her desk, and I walk over to her desk, the tensioninside me almost unbearable. I'm so stupid, I rebuke myself.She's going to tell me to get out of her class or something. "I'd like to go over your story with you after class,please, Chris." Her tone is business-like, but I feel asthough she's staring at me. I drag my eyes away from thestack of papers I've been looking at, trying to avoid herface. She is looking at me, but it's with a kind of curioussoftness. I actually see a kind of regal beauty in hernarrow, tanned face, and a slight sparkle of amusement in herlook, despite the austerity of her black, pulled back hairand grey, skirt-and-blazer suit. "Uh...Okay. No problem.', I murmur, and she actuallysmiles at me. I'm not totally comforted, but I do feel a bitbetter. She nods, and stands up, ready to start the class. Iquickly take my seat, and place my books on the desk in frontof me. I'm not truly convinced that I'm off the hook, but atleast she hasn't sent me off to see the vice-principal infront of everyone. Mrs. Vega strides up and down the aisles, handing backeveryone's stories -- except mine.. She makes gently chidingremarks as she hands the sheets of paper back to some of myfellow students, remarks that are softened with a hint ofhumour. She's always been a favourite teacher of mine, andher cleverness is one of the reasons why. As I watch her gopast me up my row, I can't help but take a discreet look ather, her slender hips making a graceful, quick rolling motionunder the smooth material of her skirt. There are otherreasons, I realize abashedly, that she's a favourite. The class goes by quickly, and we discuss storystructure, plot, literary devices et cetera using examplesfrom some of the classes' submissions. I'm a bit perturbedthat she hasn't referred to my own story once; I start toworry again. I'm usually a shining example, as it were; an"A" student. Was my story really that bad? Finally, the class ends, and everyone files out. Ilinger, pretending to look for something in my bookbag sothat no one will suspect I've been asked to stay after. Wheneveryone's gone, I walk up my aisle and stand in front ofMrs. Vega's desk. "Why don't you sit down, Chris?". She gestures towards achair in the corner of the room. I retrieve it and start tocentre it across the desk from Mrs. Vega. "No. Right here, beside me, Chris. It'd rather difficultfor us to go through this together when one of us has to readan upside-down story, don't you think?". Amazingly enough,she grins, showing a sparkling set of near-perfect teeth. Imove the chair to the other side of the desk, set it besideMrs. Vega, and sit down. She swivels towards me, her kneesalmost touching mine. "This is quite a story." Her dark brown eyes are lockedon mine. I feel a powerful sense of vertigo, a feeling thatshe's going to give me hell, supplemented by an intense waveof desire. There is a silence, and I have to saysomething. "Yeah. I guess it is." "May I ask you where you got the idea for it?" "I just made it up. It's just a story." She keeps looking at me, something mysteriouslytantalizing in her eyes. "I see." Then she looks down at thesheaf of papers she's holding on her lap, and appears toread. I feel like I'm afire with embarrassment, about tobecome a pile of ashes. "It's quite -- effective", she tells me as she crossesher legs and looks at me again. I dare to hope. "Y-you mean -- you don't hate it?" Mrs. Vega smiles, with a warmth I've never seen from herbefore. "Oh, no. On the contrary, I think this is the bestwriting I've seen from you. Why did you think I wouldn't likeit?" I look away. "Well -- I -- uh, thought you might thinkit's -- well, dirty. Pornographic." She laughs, throatily. "It certainly is naughty, I'llgrant you that! But, Chris, there's a difference betweenpornography and erotic literature -- and I think your storyis on the good side of that line. You plot development ismeticulous and it makes sense, and the character developmentis very good". She takes a red pen from her desk and makes amark on the first page of my story, then hands it to me. It'sa big, A-plus. "Are you happy with that grade, Chris?" A sigh of relief escapes me, as I realize that I've beenholding my breath. "Oh, yeah. It's great. Thanks, Mrs.Vega!". "That's not all I wanted to talk to you about, Chris." My relief is tinged with bewilderment. "Uh -- what elseis there?" I sense that now she's uneasy. She's rocking her legback and forth, and she fingers the collar of her whiteblouse. "I have to tell you that your story is very --evocative. Do you know what I mean?". Her eyes are large andglistening as she looks into me. I half suspect what she'ssaying to me, but a large part of me refuses to believe it.It's just too unbelievable. "Y-you mean it's vivid?" "That's one way of putting it. How about arousing' foranother?" "Uh -- well..." "Your protagonist -- David -- is such a loving, gentleperson, and also very passionate. I don't know if there'sanyone in the real world who's like that, but the way youwrite about him, it seems that there is. Do you know somebodylike that?" "No, not really -- well, actually, I based David alittle on myself. Not that I see myself as a Don Juan, orsomething!", I hasten to add. Mrs. Vega nods slowly, and smiles. I can't help noticethe shapes of her small breasts under her white blouse. I canmake out her nipples pushing the material out....Quickly, Ilook at her face again. "I don't think you should sellyourself short, Chris. You're a remarkable person, in a lotof ways." She pushes her chair back, stands, then sits on thecorner of her desk facing me, one foot on the floor, theother leg raised, with her thighs slightly opened.Involuntarily, I quckly look at a generous length of hernylon-sheathed leg, up to the hem of her skirt which casts ashadow over her upper thigh. I quickly suppress an urge toexplore, with my hand, that dark, mysterious opening. Shesmiles. "I'm not supposed to be telling you this, Chris. Icould get in an awful lot of trouble...but I'm very attractedto you. And I've seen, by the way you just looked at me, thatyou find me quite -- alluring, as well. Am I correct?" I can do nothing more than nod. The tension that was inthe pit of my stomach at the start of class has apparentlymigrated further south, and I feel my heart pounding Mrs. Vega stands up, and walks quickly over to theclassroom door. She opens it slightly, sticks her head outthe crack, and looks both ways. Then she closes it again,locks it and moves quickly to the corner at the back of theroom furthest from the windows, where there is a clearcarpeted spot. She stands there, her hands folded primly infront of her. "Come here, please, Chris." Dumbfoundedly, with the roaring of blood in my ears, Iobey, standing up and moving to stand in front of her. Thenshe turns her back to me, but looks behind her to speak tome. "Take my blazer off, and loosen my hair." Her voice ishurried and breathy, unlike the commanding, sharp tones I'mused to. I reach up to her neck and gently slide the grey linenjacket down each of her arms, laying it on a desk beside us.Then I untie the blue ribbon that binds her black hair, and Ismooth it out; it's soft, shoulder-length and scented with acombination of shampoo and some spicy perfume. As my fingersbrush the nape of her neck, I hear her utter a small sigh.The sound of her, the scent of her, and the sight of herblack hair now cascading over her shoulders arouses me;impulsively I bend my head down and plant a kiss on her neck. "Ohhh!", she exclaims, startled. "I'm sorry -- I didn't mean to do that!" "I liked it. It felt very nice, where'd you learn to dothat?" "I didn't -- I mean, I've never done anything like thatbefore -- I just kinda, guessed." She turns around and faces me, then puts her arms aroundmy neck. Her face is bare inches from mine, and her lips areparted; I see the glistening pink of her tongue resting justbehind her fine white teeth. "You guess very well. That'ssomething David would do, isn't it?" It's a rhetorical question; before I can answer, shekisses me softly, her lips opened slightly, and I feel hertongue flick quickly in and out of my mouth. Involuntarily,my own lips open to receive her, and she opens her mouth alittle wider; somehow she finds my own tongue, and sucks onit. I moan with the sudden onslaught of sensation. She holdsme closer as we continue to kiss, and my erection pressesagainst her lower abdomen. A throaty, approving sound comesfrom deep in her throat, then she backs away slightly with asmoky smile on her lips and in her eyes. "You liked that." Not a question; she knows, of course. "Oh, y-yeah!", I manage to say, with a nervous chuckle.Mrs. Vega is holding my lower arms from beneath, stroking myskin with her long fingers, and this almost incidentalcontact feels more seductive than the kiss. Her smouldering eyes burn into me. "You've never kisseda woman before, have you?" "No." "How do I compare, Chris?" "Compare? I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Vega. I d-don't know whatyou m-mean." "With the girls you've kissed." I can feel the red in my face. "Umh -- I -- I've n-neverkissed a girl, either." "Not boys, surely?" She smiles teasingly. "Christ, no! I -- I mean, I've never -- you see, I likegirls -- but I'm -- I'm a little sh-shy, you know?" She raises an eyebrow. "You're a virgin?" "Yes, I'm a virgin, okay?" I pull away, feelingwretched. But Mrs Vega holds onto my hands and pulls metowards her again. "It's okay, Chris. It's fine. It's more than fine,really." She kisses me again, and draws my hands up to herbreasts. "In fact I think it's marvellous!" I look down at my hands resting on the front of herwhite, silky blouse. I'm fascinated by the weight of thosesmall, covered mounds. I feel what must be the small, hardishpebbles of her nipples pushing into my palms, and thesensation excites me. Then she backs up, slowly, smiling atme mysteriously. My hands drop just as slowly to my sides. "Turn around for a minute, would you please?" "O-okay." I obey. The sound of material sliding on skinreaches my ears, and it's all I can do to keep from turningaround again. "I want you to touch me, Chris -- the way David touchesWendy, in your story. And kiss me, like you did just a minuteago" I turn around, and Mre Vega stands before me, her blousegone. Her small breasts seem to point towards me, the pinknipples standing out from her skin. I move towards her andgingerly cup her in my hands. Her eyes close and she sighs, apleasurable smile on her lips. I bend my head down to her andkiss her again on the side of her neck. "Ohh...you're so tender, so sweet." Her voice is as softas I've ever heard, and it makes me tremble with desire. I kiss my way down her throat, and she places her handson my head, running her fingers through my hair. It feels sowarm, so comforting to be touched like that; my self-consciousnessdiminishes by the second as I kiss her fromshoulder to shoulder, then move down her front, touching thetop of each breast lightly with my lips. She moves her handsdown to surround my back, and she draws me closer as we sinkto the floor. Our breathing fills the room, and the wet-raspyirregular sounds engender an electric excitement in me; I hadonly imagined something like this, and written about it; nowmy hands and mouth work feverishly. Time seems to speed up.We begin to kiss, with a frantic intensity that allows noreticence. Then she breaks apart, and lies back on thecarpeted floor. "Touch me, Chris!", she breathes. "Do what you've alwayswanted to!" She knows about my furtive looks at her, and I'mstrangely unsurprised. I place my hand on her nylon-sheathed knee, and slide itslowly upwards, under the grey fabric of her skirt. Shebegins to sigh and roll her head slightly. I can feel theswell of her thigh under my hand, then I reach the top of herpanty-hose, a pliable but impenatrable barrier. I hesitateuncertainly. She sits up and gently pushes my hand away, but it's nota rebuke. "Turn around for a moment, please, Chris?" Shesmiles, and I do as she says. I hear the slithery sound of nylon on skin, then shetells me to turn around again. She's sitting facing me withher knees up and out, her skirt carelessly draped about mid-thigh. Herlegs are now bare, and I can see the inside of herthighs, between which lies a dark patch. I reach over andtouch her thigh again, moving my hand upwards over the smoothskin. Mrs. Vega lies back on her elbows, her eyes closed,apparently content to let me do what I will. My hand reaches the top of her legs, and brushes againstthe crotch of her panties. She shudders and gasps. It feelshot, soft, and humid; I explore the contours beneath herpanties with my fingers, finding a sort of valley with a softspot in the centre that seems to be getting increasinglymoist. "OHHH....", she cries out as I gently probe thisindentation, then I rub the tip of my finger up and down theelongated depression in her panties. "Ohh...God, Chris...please...stop...", she gasps inquick, breathy exclamations; but her legs fall further apart.I pull at the hem of her lingerie, and she shakes her headno, but her hips rise to allow me to pull the garment downher legs and completely off. Shaking at my own audacity andstate of arousal, I look at Mrs. Vega's pussy for the firsttime. A small patch of hair surrounds an uneven collection ofpink-and-reddish skin folds. It looks almost masculine, butthe sight of it as Mrs Vega moves her hips slightly excitesme. I realize suddenly that I'm fully dressed; I quicklyundo my jeans, and remove them and my underwear. My penis ishuge, standing in front of me like a Legionnaire's flagpole.Mrs Vega has raised her head and stares at it. "I-it's beautiful, Chris." She sits up again, her faceflushed with excitememt. "Come here so I can touch it." I doso, and she reaches up, looking me in the eyes as her handsurrounds the hot, stiff flesh. I groan as the coolness ofher fingers contacts the heated flesh of the shaft. Shedoesn't grip it, but cradles it in her hand; then she beginsto slide her fingers up and down, slowly, just gliding alongthe length of my penis. The sensation is indescribable; it's way beyond anythingI've been able to achieve on my own, and I'm off in a worldof my own, dimly aware of myself swaying as Mrs. Vega oh, soslowly strokes me. "Mrs --Mrs. Vega...oh, God, that feels so good..." I amaware of myself speaking, but the inadequacy of my words isapparent to me even before I say them. I want to grab myself,flailing away in a frenzy, to end the ecsatatic agony, togive myself release. "Call me Martine, Chris. Not Mrs. Vega..." I look atwhere the voice comes from, and I see her tanned face lookingstraight back at me, smiling with gentle amusement as shecontinues to leisurely...not *jack* me off precisely, as thepressure of her hand is so slight; perhaps *tickle* me off. "O-okay...M-Martine...I want to..." She increases the rhythm slightly. "You want to...?" "Ohhh...Martine...I-I want to..." Still faster, and with a little more pressure..."Youwant to what, Chris?" "Mmmmhhh..." I'm almost wailing now. "I w-want..." I can see Martine's hand moving rapidly on my cock now,and it's almost a blur. "Tell me what you want, Chris!" "I -- ohhh -- I-I want -- ahhhh -- I w-want to FUCKyou!" Yes! That's what I want to do more than anything elseright now. I drop to my knees in front of Martine, and shecontinues to stroke me, but I lean over her, pushing her handaway. A surprised look comes to her face; I push her backwardsonto the floor and move between her legs. She raises herhands to my chest. "Chris! No!", she whispers urgently as her hands exertsome pressure on my chest. She doesn't push very hard though.I flip her skirt up over her bare abdomen, and move closer,the end of my penis probing her groin for that giving spotI'd found earlier; as it touches her vulva, she gives ashuddering moan. "Ohhhh -- God, Chris -- I-I'm married, I can't do this -- theother things yes, but I can't let you -- I'm not takingthe Pill, I don't want to get -- OHHHH!" I'm rubbing the end of my penis up and down her pussy;it feel warm and moist, but I'm not quite sure where theopening is. The effect on Martine is phenomenal; she tries toprotest, but her words are lost in soft, incoherent gasps andmoans. Her hips move, belying her words and I feel myselfsliding into her slightly. "Uhhh!", she goans as I enter her that little bit."Chris...Chris...ohhhh, we shouldn't, it'stoo....mmmmmmhhhhhh..." I slip deeper into her, and sheraises her hips, as if to draw me further. I want to plungemyself into her, the clenching portal that grips the end ofmy cock a hot, welcoming sea. Before I go further I look at her face; it's a radiantshowcase of ecstasy, her eyes closed, her lips slack in anexpression of rapture. "...feels too good...", she murmurs, an admission ofsurrender, and finally I push myself fully into her, and Ican feel my balls slap against her ass. "OH!!!" Martine's eyes pop open, as though what she's feelinghas been suddenly multiplied tenfold. I back out, then plungemy cock into her as deep as I can, and she gasps again anddigs her fingernails into my back. "OH!!!" This time, I groan in unison with her, as the deliciousache that I have in the centre of my cock is assuaged by thehot pressure of Martine's pussy. I begin to repeat my motions, and each time I enter her,I seem to be able to go just a little bit further. Martineraises her hips each time to meet me, and we begin a sort ofrocking motion together, and her voice drives me crazy. "MmmHHMM! mmmHMMM! UhhhHUHHH! UhhHUHHH!". I can hearwet, slippery noises as we fuck on the floor of theclassroom, the sounds of my balls hitting her ass as sheraises her long legs and locks them around my back. We pickup the pace bit by bit, and before long I can feel my cockbegin to get even larger inside her, as I can feel the semenbegin to rocket up from inside me. Martine arches her back and gasps. She digs her nailsharder into my back, but the pain she inflicts is wonderful;it keeps me from going over the edge. "Ohh uh uh uh uh uh uh..OH! OH! Oh no I'mcoming...coming...no...stop...please stop...", shetells me, but I can't; it feels too good, and I'm groaningwith effort to keep myself from going over the edge. "OH! OH! OH,GOD, CHRIS PLEASE.. THAT'S ENOUGH,.PLEASE...STOP....OHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH! HUH!HUH!HUH!HUH!", andit's too late for her as I feel her vaginal muscles grip andrelease me, I keep thrusting into her and she keeps her legswrapped around me and I finally can't hold it any longer andI push myself as deeply as I can within her, holding myselfmotionless there as jets of superheated liquid shoot upthrough my cock and deep into a shuddering, obliviousMartine, who grasps with inhuman strength with her arms andlegs, as though to squeeze everything out of me... And finally, we are done... I lie on top of her, my cockstill partly inside her, and she makes no movement to push meaway; but neither does she look at me, so I slowly pull outof her, stand up and get dressed. "Martine?" She doesn't answer, but sits up, looking away from me.She methodically finds her panties, puts them on and smoothesher skirt down. Still making a deliberate show of lookingaway from me, she gets her blouse and blazer on and walks toher desk, where she sits down, looking out the window. Somehow, I know she doesn't want me there any longer, soI gather my things, wordlessly unlock the door and leave. . The End(?)