Bigger Bites of Taboo Apples

My indoctrination into Lesbianism

Author's note: My email address at the end of each chapter of Starters Only was wrong, so I have no idea how much, or what sort of feedback I received on those chapters. This has been corrected, so anyone who reads this (and has also read the previous part) please let me know what you think of this so far. JL

Main character’s admonishment: If you find yourself becoming lost while reading this, my English Literature Teacher advice is that you go back and read part one (Starters Only). I refuse to re-hash what you should have studied, instead of impulsively jumping ahead.

Anxiously awaiting my 1st Slut…

School, the following Monday, was sheer hell for me. I kept waiting for the all-knowing glances from some of my students, or the telltale whispering between them, even some crude remarks made to me from one of them concerning my weekend’s double taboo transgressions. However, nothing of the sort came my way. Not even so much as a quizzically raised eyebrow.

Apparently, D’bone hadn’t so much as hinted to his friends that he had spent the entire weekend with his hard black cock filling and refilling his English Lit teacher’s burgeoning white slut mouth with his delicious cum, or shooting his hot cum deep into her eagerly receptive cunt, or fucking in and out of her willingly offered, nasty-slut asshole. And, if anyone knowing that all this had taken place in my home (with my nearly a-sexual Economics Professor husband conveniently out of town) wouldn’t have been damaging enough for a supposedly straight-laced, White teacher, then the mutual pee games the two of us had playfully indulged in would have had me behind bars—with the key melted down—in less time then it would have taken for me to even bother denying it.

I was extremely grateful for Darnell’s prudent discretion… at least on my behalf. I also admired his intestinal fortitude. Think of what it took for him to be so adultly discrete. A healthy, young, American guy, not regaling his friends with the gory details of how he had spent the weekend turning one of their white teachers into an insatiable black-cock slut… Not bragging to his cohorts about accomplishing something of such degrading magnitude, you will have to agree, has to be totally unthinkable to libidinous male psyche.

In fact, the only incident that clearly showed me that I wasn’t the only aware of what had transpired was Darnell stopping at my desk at the end of my last class and—in a voice loud enough for all to hear—asking me if I would still be here when football practice was over, and could he stop in and maybe clarify a disturbing point he had concerning Othello.

Of course I would still be here; for all intense and purposes, D’bone had just told me to be. Fighting back an all-too-reveling blush, I answered that I had some papers to grade and that I could just as easily work on a lesson plan here as I could at home, so “Yes” I would be available to answer any questions he might have about one of Shakespeare’s most inspiring works. That was the sort thing any good teacher was supposed to do.

To his credit, D’bone didn’t even smirk when he thanked me, then turned and walked out of the room.

I, on the other hand, had a serious problem that required a quick trip to the faculty ladies restroom. The crotch of my panties was more than damp; it was very nearly wringing wet. Standing less than three feet from me, the heady scent of my young black possessor, plus the possibility of his reveling the identity of who he had in mind for my next taboo transgression had caused that. If I continued on this illicit course and became any more of an insatiable slut than I already was for irresistible D’bone, I would have to start wearing a double thick sanitary pad inside my panties to school every day, not just those times of the month when I actually needed them for their intended purpose.

By 6:00, I had finished grading the papers and had worked up a lesson plan for the following week, and still no Darnell. I got up from my desk and went to the window. How long could football practice take, anyway? I nervously glanced at my watch. Another ten minutes and D’bone could just go fuck himself.

No, I’d still be here at midnight, waiting for Darnell to show. I was too afraid of what D’bone could revel about us if I wasn’t here when he waltzed in. I was also far too curious about who he intended to pair me with so we could entertain him with some hot and sweaty lesbian intimacy.

D’bone sauntered into the room at quarter after 6:00 and closed the door behind him. “Miss me, Slut?”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. “Do you mean all day long, or only while you were at practice?”

He crossed the room and nonchalantly shoved his hand up under my sweater. “Missed my sweet black cock that much, huh?” he said groping one of my tits.

I grabbed his hand, but didn’t attempt to make him removed it. “Damn it, D’bone, someone could see you doing this to me, and…”

“Ain’t no one ‘cept us left in the building, Diane. I made real sure of it ‘fore I came up here.” He worked his hand underneath my brassier and tweaked the rock hard nipple. “And the night janitors don’t get here till at least 10:00.”

The way he was mauling my tit felt so good my pussy was leaking down the insides of my quaking legs. “Even still,” I weakly protested, “here in front of the window, someone might look up and see us, and…”

For a heart-stopping moment, I could see in D’bone’s eyes that he was seriously contemplating continuing this right here in front of the window, where anyone looking up would be able to clearly see a black student feeling up his white teacher, and that she wasn’t doing anything to stop him. Grabbing a handful of my bra, he snapped, “Follow me, Teach,” Using the bra like a halter, he led me over to the door, locked it and led me back over to the desk. “Just like in the garage, Slut,” he instructed, “assume the position.”

D’bone was going to fuck me right here, in school, at my desk. Not that I was against D’bone taking what was rightfully his, but… “Here!”

“Now!” D’bone commanded.

Over the weekend, I had become D’bone’s to use, as he wanted, when he wanted, and where he wanted. I had no choice and obediently prostrated myself on my desk for my young black possessor. He pulled up my skirt and chuckled. “No panties.” He slapped both of my asscheeks. “Naughty, Teacher. Naughty, Teacher.”

“They were… They were soaking wet,” I meekly explained. “I… My pussy was running so badly after you left, that I had to take them off. They… They’re in my purse.”

He laughed. “So, you got a pussy that smells like pussy and now you got a purse that smells like pussy.” His hand shot between my legs. “Damn, you weren’t kidding.” He plunged three fingers into my sopping cunt. “Like stickin’ ‘em into a tube of hot oil.”

I was becoming lost to my rapidly escalating lust. I wanted to tell him to pull them out, but what came out of my mouth was, “Don’t stop. Pleeeeese, don’t stop!”

D’bone wasn’t about stop. Thank God! “You’ll never guess who I got lined up for you to give your lezzie cherry to, Teach,” he said as he finger fucked me. “Go on, try and guess.”

“Julie!” was the only name that came to mind.

“Naw. Julie’d do it, no question there, but she ain’t good enough… not for your first time.” He worked his fingers deeper, harder, and faster in my hot, oily cunt. “Try again.”

I was close to cumming and holding on to the desk as tight as I could was hard enough to accomplish, let alone think. “Patty!” I finally gasped. Patty was the only other girl in school I could think of who might not mind some hot lezzie action with a teacher.

“Patty Pee!” D’bone snorted. “She’s okay for some really freaky entertainment, but that’s about all. No, Slut, I got someone real special already lined up for you.”

My cunt muscles clamped down around D’bone’s thrusting fingers and I no longer cared whom my impending lesbian affair would take place with, or even where. What I wanted to know most of all right then was, “When?”

D’bone laid himself across my arched back. “In just about an hour from… right… NOW!” He thrust his fingers into me hard and I came violently. He held me there, with his fingers buried in my spasming cunt until my vaginal convulsions began to lessen, before slowly—excruciatingly slowly—extracting them.

I relaxed my death grip on the desk and sank to the floor. D’bone had finger fucked me better than I could ever finger fuck myself. Or, maybe it was simply having someone else masturbating me, instead of doing it myself. Either way, I couldn’t have agreed more when I heard him say, “That should get you sufficiently warmed up, Diane.” I was more than sufficiently warmed up for any FUCKING thing D’bone might care to throw my way.

He waved his slimy fingers in front of my face. “Now, clean up this mess you made, and let’s get to it. We don’t want to keep your first piece of lezzie ass waitin’, do we?”

After dutifully licking his fingers clean of my vaginal secretions, I shakily got to my feet, opened the bottom drawer of my desk, and grabbed my purse. “No, we certainly do not want to keep her waiting,” I said as I purposely led the way to the door. I was so far gone by then that I didn’t want to postpone meeting the person who was going to be my very first piece of hot lesbian ass any longer than was absolutely necessary to get to wherever she was located.

“She” turns out to be the most unexpected of all…

Where my first lesbian tryst would take place was settled when Darnell got in the passenger seat of my car and instructed me to drive straight home. “But, what if Edwin’s come home early?” I reasoned as I backed out of my parking place.

“Drop me off at the corner and I’ll come down the alley,” Darnell said after a long moment’s thought. “If your husband’s not there, kill the lights and leave the back door open and go on in the house.”

“And if he is?” I asked, peeling out of the empty parking lot.

“If he’s home, then make some excuse for needing to go right back out. Drive around to the alley and we’ll go find someplace else for you to eat your first pussy.”

So, whoever she was, she would be waiting in the alley for Darnell and his experimenting teacher to let her in. “Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,” I snickered.

“Something I learned from my father,” Darnell responded. “If you don’t have a backup plan already in place when the primary strategy goes right in the crapper, then you best be able to think fast and loose on your feet.”

I had seen our nimble-footed Assistant DA in action and that sounded exactly like a useful piece of advise he would pass on to his only son.

I dropped Darnell at the corner and was anxiously pressing the control button for the garage door half way down the block. The garage door went up and the interior light came on just as I pulled into the driveway. Seeing that Edwin’s car wasn’t in the garage, I let out the deep breath I had been holding for nearly a block.

I hit the down button, bolted from the car, killed both the interior and outside lights, opened the back door, then went in the house, leaving the connecting door to the kitchen open behind me. D’bone hadn’t said whether he wanted me still dressed, or stark naked when he brought “her” in, so I decided to play this half way in between. My sweater was already being pulled over my head as I hurried up the stairs. I pitched it into the closet and kicked my pumps in after it as I yanked down the zipper of my skirt. It and my bra quickly followed.

I dashed into the bathroom and gave myself a cursory sponge bath—my face, under my arms, mopping up the wet mess that was my sorely-in-need pussy—and dapped on some expensive perfume for my “date”. It was an expensive brand that I only used for very special occasions. And I do think my first excursion into lesbianism qualified as a being VERY special occasion.

Of course, I was assuming that whoever “she” was, she would be one of the students. But “she” could just as easily be another white woman D’bone could very well be banging the livin’ shit out of. She could even be another teacher. This last possibility I found more than mildly intriguing as I adjusted the lighting in the bedroom to a soft, mellow glow, then retrieved my filmy negligee from the corner where it had ended up sometime Saturday night. I considered this new possibility as I slipped the negligee on and tied the satin bow at the throat—leaving my naked body exposed from there down. Several “possibilities” came to mind, but none of them could I picture myself being intimate with… not voluntarily, anyway. Not that I would have any choice in the matter. Once Darnell and “she” entered the house, D’bone—not “she” or I—would be calling the shots in whatever transpired after they entered the bedroom.

I was reclining as seductively as I knew how in the middle of the bed when I heard noise coming from the kitchen—the solid thump of the connecting door to the garage being closed and the distinctive snap of the bolt being thrown. There was some fumbling around, someone bumping into something, a muffled laugh, the sound of a chair being slid back from the kitchen table. Then hushed voices were coming up the stairs—Darnell’s, and someone else’s; a much softer voice… that sounded strangely familiar.

Darnell’s dark form appeared in the doorway. “Like the setup,” he commented. “It’s pure-D sexy, Diane.”

I was about to thank him when I heard a startled gasp in the hall. “Damn… damn you, Darnell! You… you should have told me whose house this was. God FUCKING damn you!”

I sat bolt upright. That voice was no longer “strangely” familiar; it was VERY familiar, and the profanities she was spewing at Darnell were none I had ever heard come from her always-polite mouth. “Chantel?”

My nipples were instantly hard and aching terribly. My pussy was leaking seriously this time. My heart was racing out of control. Chantel was the last girl I would have ever suspected of something like this, but I could think of no one with whom I would so willing want to have a lesbian affair.

Chantel was, undeniably, the most strikingly attractive girl in school. Every boy in school—and most of the male teachers as well—hungrily followed Chantel with his eyes, if not bodily, around campus. And I couldn’t blame any of them one bit. Nineteen years old, tall and willowy—5’ 8”, 5’ 9”, maybe 120 pounds, with the face of an angle, raven-black hair, a flawless complexion that was a creamy mocha-caramel, a model’s bearing—though not a model’s emaciated figure, with a regal grace about her—Chantel was the aloof, sophisticated vision of every boy’s wet dream come to life. And now mine, too.

But that wasn’t all there was to Chantel; she also had the brains to go along with her classic beauty. Having started school much later than she should have—8 1/2 was what was listed in her transcript—she had caught up fast, skipping several grades, and had been only a year older than the majority of her woefully inept peers upon graduation.

An exemplary student, who ravenously devoured extra work and begged for more; four years at the very top of the Dean’s list in high school with a consistent 4.0 GPA, a cheerleader and co-captain of the college’s volleyball team, invariably the female lead in the school plays—who somehow managed to sandwich in four nights a month voluntarily manning a phone at the Rape Crisis Center, Chantel was not only the college’s, but MY most prized student. What in God’s name she was doing here at this small, nothing community college, instead of showing everyone that she had everything it takes to make the grade at a major university was more puzzling to me than why Edwin couldn’t fathom the reason why “supposedly catastrophic” Y2K had turned out to be such minor fizzle.

“Chantel?” I barely managed to croak out. “Is that you out there, Chantel?”

“Ohhh, God!” I heard her moan. “I ought to kick you right in the fucking balls, Darnell!” I heard her body slump against the wall. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

For the first time, I saw real worry come to Darnell’s eyes. He had dealt the cards in this salacious game, but had he overplayed his hand? One of us had to take control of this embarrassing situation and they had to do so quickly, or risk having unnervered Chantel unintentionally spill the beans. As illogical as it sounded inside my head, even more painful to me would be missing out on what Chantel looked like underneath the rather plain clothes she normally wore to school.

I was the adult here; it would be up to me to take control. I cleared my throat and closed my negligee. “Chantel? Chantel, I want you to come in her, dear.”

“I can’t, Mrs. Chapel,” she whispered back. “Knowing… knowing it’s you, I… I just can’t come in there.”

“Please?” My heart stopped while I waited for her reply. Finally, her angelic face peered around the door jam. As usual, her raven hair was held back from her face in a tight bun at the upper back of her head, secured in place by her customary white barrette. I smiled and held out my hands to her. “As you can see, I am tastefully attired—given the circumstance, and I promise you that not one single thing untoward will happen in here without your explicit, and unequivocal, permission.”

Chantel took a hesitant step into the room and my breath caught in my throat. Instead of the long skirts and bulky sweaters I had always seen wearing her in my classes, Chantel was attired as the most desirable sex goddess imaginable—a short waisted, long sleeve, white cashmere sweater that showed her belly button and didn’t hide, but actually accentuated her rounded breasts; a micro-mini white wool skirt that just barely concealed her buttocks; and white, open-toed platform sandals with what appeared to be 4” stiletto heels, which did marvelous things for her dancer’s legs.

“My Lord!” I wheezed. “Chantel, your outfit is absolutely breath taking.” And that was putting it mildly. If Chantel ever showed up at school dressed like this, there would be a lethal outbreak of terminal hardon, and there would be no telling how many pairs of severely wet panties would be going home in other girl’s—and female teachers—purses. “Please, turn around so I can get the full affect.”

With a whimsical cock of her head, Chantel slowly pirouetted in a full circle. I had been wrong concerning the length of her short skirt; the bottom portions of both of her nicely rounded buttocks were clearly visible when she had her back to me. ”Once more, Mrs. Chapel?” she asked with a coquettish lilt in her voice.

“Chantel, you could do that all night long and you still have a totally captivated fan when the sun comes up.” I motioned with my hands. “But, please, move into the light so I can see you even better. Please?” Chantel took a couple of steps further into the room and stopped a couple of feet from the bed. My eyes slowly traveled from her face, down her body to her blood-red toenails, then even more slowly back up again. “If you want to turn and walk right out of here, there will be no hard feelings, Chantel. I’m satisfied that I have seen a vision of the most desirable creature on this planet.”

The light in Chantel’s dark eyes couldn’t have been any brighter if she had just been elected a member of Mensa and handed the keys to Vassar. “Is that what you want me to do, Mrs. Chapel?” she asked softly. “Turn around and walk out of here?”

“Good… God… NO!”

The smile she returned to my nearly shouted exclamation went beyond captivating; it owned me… body and sole. “Then… I won’t.”

Chantel turned slightly and sat on the edge of the bed. I could smell her perfume. I couldn’t place the alluring fragrance, but whatever she was wearing, it was a lot more expensive than the cheap toilet water I had splashed on my own merger excuse for a woman’s body. I could also smell Chantel beneath her perfume. It wasn’t the sweetish smell of a girl, or even that of a blossoming teenager, but the unmistakable scent of a mature young woman.