Secret, Saintly Schoolgirl Love - Sex Stories

Secret, Saintly Schoolgirl Love

... without poking her too hard in any wrongly guessed spots. The way in was just as tight as I remembered from myself. Her body hugged my finger closer than any glove, and she took in a series of rapid gasps as I went along.

Her hands bunched up her skirt and then came up to rub her own face and neck, as if she were full of some overwhelming feeling she had never learned the expression for, and was not quite sure what to do with it.

“Is that okay?” I asked.

Hannah nodded. “Keep going.”

Keeping my hand to my pelvis, I tried thrusting my hips back and forth, the way the dancers did in every video the adults hated.

Hannah made a whimpering sound in the back of her throat as my finger pushed back in, and I stopped.

“Is it still—”

“Yes!” she nodded vigorously. “Please. I just, I want to get the hang of it.”

Even more cautiously, I tried again. And, at Hannah’s insistence, again, and again.

She made that same whimpering noise, but at the same time lifted her hips up, toward me, as if searching for something.

“Does it feel good?” I asked.

“Uh… partly,” Hannah answered. “But like, partlyreally good. Does that make sense?”

“Maybe?”

I kept going, searching her face, as ever, for clues. I watched for any sign that I was getting warmer or colder, while I searched her physically for a way to turn “partly” into “abso-heckin’-lutely.”

Hannah seemed to grow more and more restless under me, her hips moving with more frustrated urgency, until suddenly, ...

... she stopped and lay limp on the floor, with one arm crossed over her eyes.

I stopped too.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s just…” she kept her arm clamped hard over her face, which was turning a brilliant red. “When I…. When I… bymyself… I….” She sighed, and her tone shifted from nervous to blank. She spoke very, very fast, as if she was worried her blankness would run out before she finished all the words, so it came out like, “WhenITouchMyselfAtNightITouchHere.”

She used her free hand to gesture at the general area right in front of her vagina.

“You masturbate?” I asked, unable to contain my amazement.

“Please,” said Hannah, her blankness receding. “Please, don’t hate me.”

“Why would I—”

“I know, I know, I know,” Hannah stopped me. “I don’t know why. I just… ugh. Please don’t. And don’t tell any—”

“I do the same thing,” I said, touching her hair with my free hand, hoping to radiate comfort through to her hidden face.

“You do not,” Hannah said, but peeked one eye hopefully out from under her arm.

“I do,” I said. “Like this?”

I swept my thumb across the spot where there was a sensitive little bump on my body, and found what felt like a matching one on Hannah’s.

Hannah moaned so loudly that I worried for a moment about the sound carrying over the lake back to the chapel, until she lowered her arm enough to stuff the side of it into her mouth.

That sound was definitely more than partly good.

I made her make that sound again, and again, ...