Falling in Love with Nitasha - Sex Stories

Falling in Love with Nitasha

... homework hours ended, Nitasha pulled me aside in the corridor. “Don’t worry about her,” she said. “She has no right to tell you what to do.” Because I was new, I stayed in the study in the first term with Suzanne occupying the other bed and Nitasha emigrating to the girls’ dorm each night. Suzanne, always draped in a thick cotton flowery nightdress that reached the bottom of her short legs, read studiously in bed before the ‘lights-out’ round of the housemistress. But in those minutes afterwards, before sleep caught up with us, Suzanne never spoke – and so neither did I. Things only brightened when Nitasha breezed back into the room after breakfast. “Good morning, ugly people,” she’d chirp. Boys were the saving grace of my early unhappiness. They would talk to you if were new and looked presentable, and I fitted both criteria. I had a shoulder-length blonde hair, tidied into ponytail that my dad would approve of, and I was blue-eyed. What more could wild-eyed testosterone demand? Six weeks into my first term I’d accumulated two boyfriends. Boyfriends at boarding school meant quick meetings after tea and before homework time when we were allowed to escape our houses for an hour. My first was a one-date effort – bad breath – but the second was more like it. Matt in the year above was tall and gentle with a mop of soft brown hair and a great sense of humour. I was nuts about him in the weeks leading up to Christmas; flattered that an older boy would want me. We’d text each other ...

... after school had finished to arrange that evening’s meeting behind the school church hall. He was a good kisser too, less forceful than other boys. He didn’t rush to touch me, which made me want him more. One night, as the evenings darkened and after we’d kicked the leaves up the path behind the hall, he finally push his hand under my skirt and into my tights as we kissed. We were both inexperienced, but he was gentle almost to a fault. When his finger reached its destination between my legs he asked, “Is this ok?”. And when his finger softly pushed inside me, he’d ask the question again, waiting for an answer. “It’s ok,” I said. “I like it.” The second time he fingered me – as gently as the first time – I sensed he was about to ask the same question. I kissed him hard on the mouth to stop him speaking. He was too polite for his own good. Back in our study before the bell rang for homework time, I’d share my experiences with Nitasha, who would giggle over Matt’s timidity. “He’s so cute,” she’d defend him. But as the weeks went on, she’d roll her eyes when I gave regular examples of his diffidence. Nitasha didn’t have a boyfriend, so the confidences between us were one-sided. Still, she was keen to find out every intimate detail of my relationship with Matt. She squealed with delight the night I told her about me touching him through his trousers and discovering his erection: “Ooo, sexy!” she trilled. On the evenings Matt and I had argued, she’d advise on strategy: whether to ...