Isabelle: Chapter 3 - Sex Stories

Isabelle: Chapter 3

When I woke up from the blaring sound of my alarm the next morning, I groggily turned it off and headed to my shower. I quickly rinsed, dried, and got dressed before coming out. There was no naked Isabelle this time which, while a little disappointing, was good. It was so awkward the last time and I didn’t want to be thinking about that during the school day. “Morning,” Isabelle said as she emerged from Mary’s old room, “Are you ready for school?” she asked. “Are you? You’re the new one,” I joked as we headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. My parents weren't awake so I just fixed us up some bagels with cheese, something light. As soon as I was done eating, I went back up to my bathroom and brushed my teeth before the bus came. Isabelle was a bit nervous with all of the people on the bus, which was cute to me, but we managed to found a seat. “Who’s she?” so many people asked. Each time I would have to explain that she was a new foreign exchange student that was staying with me. They wondered how a guy got a female exchange student and then I had to explain how our families were friends et cetera, et cetera. By the time we got to school I was already exhausted. We entered my small school and walked to my locker first. I put away my coat and lunch box and then Isabelle and I moved to her locker. I taught her how to enter the combination as more people walked by us, wondering who she was. “I got it!” she exclaimed in excitement jumping up and down as she opened up the ...

... locker, putting her coat and lunch in it. “Where to now?” she asked “Psychology,” I replied as the bell rung for our first class. Since the school was small, and since I had been going there for nearly 3 years now, it was easy to navigate to where we needed to go. Isabelle just held my hand and followed where ever I went, looking around at all of the posters and people. She seemed completely fascinated by all of it. We entered Mrs. Rudy’s room, the psychology teacher, just on time as the second bell rung. “Ah, you must be Isabelle,” Mrs. Rudy said, looking directly at us as we found some free seats towards the front. “Class, this is Isabelle, the foreign exchange student from… France?” “Oui,” Isabelle said. A low murmur filled the class as the students talked to each other. Isabelle was still holding onto my hand nervously, her palms getting slightly clammy. She realized that she was still holding on and let go quickly, bringing her hands up to her face. Mrs. Rudy began the introduction as we listened, all still sleepy from having to get up at 5:30 in the morning just for the buses. A few times, Isabelle took out this odd, gameboy looking device, rapidly typing in words. “Um, Isabelle, there are no phones in school,” Mrs. Rudy said sternly. Isabelle looked confused and even more nervous. She looked down at her device and came to a sudden realization. “No, this is a, eh, translator,” she said, holding it up for Mrs. Rudy to see as the attention of the entire class focused on ...