As I'm lying on my back on my parents' bed, Mrs. Jones' wet and velvety tongue glides along my delicate folds. Her exploration sets off a fire within my core, causing my hips to buck in response. It feels so good!
With each flick of her tongue, she delves deeper into my quivering sex. Every lustful slurp feels like a sinful indulgence, savoring my essence as if it were the most delectable delicacy. Gasping for air, I arch my back in pleasure, my hands gripping the sheets tightly as Mrs. Jones licks me with a hunger that drives me wild.
"Mm, you're irresistible, sweety," she whispers.
Her skilled tongue dances and teases as she devours every drop of my sweet nectar. When she pulls away and stands up, I want to beg for more — to feel her lips and tongue on me again — but I feel too shy to ask for it.
Mrs. Jones unties the silky robe around her waist, revealing her naked curves underneath, and my gaze is instantly drawn in between her thighs, where I can see the glistening evidence of her desire. She wants me just as much as I want her.
"Let's hop into a shower together," she suggests with a sensuous smile.
With a seductive sway of her hips, Mrs. Jones guides me into the en-suite bathroom of my parents' bedroom. My clit throbs as she turns to face me, and the butt plug nestled snugly inside my tiny hole is almost forgotten. Her meadow-green eyes meet mine, her lips parting in a naughty grin as she takes off my delicate babydoll, exposing every inch of my nakedness to her greedy stare.
I watch her walk under the shower, turn on the water, and, with a playful wink, Mrs. Jones invites me to join her.
"What about ... the plug?" I stutter, my cheeks heating at the thought of how it will be pulled from my tight backdoor. Oh, I hope it won't be dirty! That would be really humiliating.
A devilish smirk spreads across her lips as Mrs. Jones responds, "We'll take care of it in the shower. Now, jump in and let me handle it."
Will it hurt? Taking a deep breath, I push that thought aside, trusting Mrs. Jones knows what she is doing. Warm water cascades down my skin as I join her in the shower, but it does little to ease my nerves.
"Turn around and place your palms against the wall," Mrs. Jones instructs.
I follow her instructions, and she steps behind me, her hands gliding across my shoulders.
"Push that pretty ass out for me," she murmurs as she presses against me, her hardened nipples brushing against my back.
As I arch my back slightly, I feel her hands move lower, her fingers tracing the curve of my spine.
"Spread your legs a little wider," Mrs. Jones commands, and I obey.
As she traces one finger along the edge of the base of the plug protruding from my taboo hole, my breathing hitches. I focus on my breath, trying to calm my racing heart as her fingers grab the base of the plug firmly, giving it a slight tug.
"Oh," I gasp.
"You like that?" Mrs. Jones murmurs.
"It's not unpleasant," I admit, my voice coming out in a shaky exhale as she pulls the toy out a little before pushing it back in. My swollen clit tingles, my anal muscles clenching around the delicious intrusion.
"Mmm, that's good to know," Mrs. Jones purrs, pulling the plug out again, this time further, before sliding it back in.
This is so naughty! My body shivers with need as Mrs. Jones continues to taunt me with the plug.
"You're so responsive," she chuckles as she teasingly slides the toy in and then back out. "John would love to see this."
My heart races at the mention of John, my volleyball coach, and my secret crush. I wonder how his cock would feel inside me, just like this plug, filling me up and making me feel so good. What am I even thinking?! I can't believe I'm getting turned on by the thought of having anal sex with my coach!
My body shudders as the plug glides out, my tight muscles gripping onto it as if reluctant to let go. Every inch of me throbs with desire, even though I know it's wrong to be this aroused by such taboo thoughts about my coach.
Mrs. Jones lays the plug on the shower floor, and I glance at it, relieved that it seems clean. She reaches for the soap and begins to lather up her hands, a scent of lavender filling the air. As her soft hands caress my back, I feel her ample breasts brush up against my naked flesh.
Her palms move lower, squeezing and massaging my buttocks. My breath becomes ragged, and the heat in between my thighs intensifies. As she spreads my butt cheeks, letting the water cascade in between them, I wish her fingers would follow the flow and find their way into my wetness. I am disappointed when her hands slide lower, tracing the curve of my thighs before reaching my knees.
Her palms travel back up, teasingly avoiding my throbbing core as they glide across my stomach, causing me to squirm as they reach my breasts, her fingers tracing the outline of my nipples before gently pinching them.
"Mmphm," I moan as Mrs. Jones continues to tease my rosy tips, my body arching towards hers in a silent plea for more.
"Such an impatient, naughty girl you are, and so hungry for more," she whispers in my ear. "Turn around and kiss me."
I don't have to be told twice! I turn around, wrap my arms around her neck, and crash my lips against hers. My tongue slips into her mouth as we deepen the kiss, our bodies pressed together, the heat between us rising.
As we kiss, I can feel her hands wandering down my back, lingering on my lower back, before sliding down to cup my behind.
"Oh, Mrs. Jones," I moan against her lips as she squeezes me closer.
I can feel her smile against my lips as she whispers, "My sweet little girl," and pulls away, making me whimper in protest at the loss of her touch.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. We have all day and all night. Now, be a good girl and wash me clean," she says with a playful wink.
I take the soap and start to lather her body, my fingers trembling as they move over her smooth skin, feeling the warmth of her body under my touch. As I wash her breasts, Mrs. Jones grins at me, causing my cheeks to flush. My hands glide down her stomach, lingering at her hips before moving lower, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.
"No, honey," she whispers, gently guiding my hands away. "Save that for later. And never wash your vagina with regular soap. It can disrupt the natural pH balance and cause irritation."
"Oh," I murmur, feeling like I should know that already.
Mrs. Jones leads my hands back up and turns around, allowing me to continue washing her back. As I massage her shoulders, she leans back into me, letting out a contented sigh.
A doorbell rings, interrupting our intimate moment. Who could that be?
"I'll get that," she says before stepping out of the shower, and I follow her out, feeling unsatisfied.
As she quickly dries off and throws on a robe, I grab a towel and wrap it around myself. Mrs. Jones looks at me and licks her lips, like a hungry predator eyeing its prey. No. She is not like that. She's simply a nice, friendly neighbor who is teaching me about sex. I smile nervously, attempting to shake off the uneasy feeling that her gaze gives me.
"Dry yourself, sweety, and put the babydoll back on unless you want John to see you naked," she says, her lips curling into a sly smile.
What? The coach is here? I quickly dry off. He can't see me like this or dressed only in the almost transparent lingerie.
"I'll just go and get changed in my room," I say as I rush out of the bathroom, but Mrs. Jones grabs my arm gently.
"You don't need to be shy, sweety. John has seen it all before."
"But ..." I stammer, feeling my cheeks flush.
Mrs. Jones chuckles, handing me my babydoll nightie. "Trust me, John won't mind," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she raises her brow. "I think he'll appreciate the view."
I pause, holding the nightie in my hands, then reluctantly pull it over my head. The fabric brushes against my skin, and the thought of the coach seeing me in this state—wearing lingerie that barely covers my anything and no panties—makes my heart flutter with a mix of nerves and a strange thrill.
The doorbell rings again, prompting us to head downstairs. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Jones tells me to go and sit on the couch while she answers the door.
"Okay," I say, taking a deep breath as I walk into the living room, which is directly connected to the entrance in an open-concept layout.
I feel my pussy throb as I force myself to sit on the couch, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in my stomach. Mrs. Jones gives me a reassuring smile before opening the door.
As the coach walks in and sees me sitting there, he halts in his tracks, a surprised expression crossing his face. His eyes dip to my pebbles poking through the thin fabric of my babydoll, and I quickly cross my arms, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Mrs. Jones clears her throat, and he turns his attention back to her, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as well.
"I didn't realize we'd have company," he stammers, looking slightly flustered. His brows furrow. "Why is the kid here?" The tone of his voice is harsh, making me shrink back in my seat.
"John, be nice," Mrs. Jones chides gently, placing a hand on his chest.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling like an intruder in their conversation.
"Amy is not a kid," Mrs. Jones defends me. "She has just turned eighteen and is now an adult. And she is here because we all need to talk."
This is the first time Mrs. Jones has called me by my first name, and I can't help but prefer the loving pet names she usually uses. John's expression softens slightly, but his eyes still hold a hint of annoyance.
Mrs. Jones gives me a kind smile in an attempt to relieve the tension in the room, then returns her attention to the coach. "How much time do you have?"
"Until noon. I told my wife I was giving her," he pauses, his gaze flickering to me momentarily, "a private lesson."
It's a believable excuse. Given my status as the team's least skilled player, the idea of needing some extra practice doesn't stretch the imagination.
Mrs. Jones nods. "Good. That gives us plenty of time," she says, her voice calm. "Let's join Amy on the couch, shall we?"
Mrs. Jones walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to me, motioning for John to do the same. John hesitates for a moment before finally making his way over to join us, his posture tense. I can sense the unease radiating off of him as he sits down next to Mrs. Jones, his eyes avoiding mine.
"So," Mrs. Jones begins to speak, breaking the silence that has settled over us. "Amy has agreed not to say anything about us to anyone. Isn't that right, sweety?"
"Yes," I respond, nodding in agreement.
The coach looks at me with a stern expression, his eyes narrowing. "Uh huh," his tone making it clear he isn't convinced.
Mrs. Jones shoots him a warning glance. "Amy is a good girl, John. She was just curious, which is why she was spying on us having sex. You know how we were at her age," Mrs. Jones continues. "It's the hormones. And she barely has any sexual experience. She just couldn't help herself."
Earth, please swallow me whole. I sink lower in my seat, wishing I could disappear. The coach nods, but I can tell he's still skeptical.
"We were just talking earlier about how Amy never even gave a blowjob before," Mrs. Jones adds, making me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. "Can you imagine that, John?"
His jaw clenches, and his face turns red as he struggles to respond. Finally, he mutters, "That's difficult to believe, since she is such a pretty girl."
Mrs. Jones glances at me with a mischievous smile, knowing full well the effect of her words on both the coach and me.
"Yes, Amy is a little beauty," Mrs. Jones says with a wink, causing me to blush even more.
I can feel the electricity in the air as I shift in my seat, my core tingling and my nipples perking against the silky texture of my sheer nightie. The coach's gaze dips down to my chest, his eyes darkening.
"And she has a pretty pussy too," Mrs. Jones adds with a wide smile, causing the coach to clear his throat nervously. "I enjoyed tasting it last night almost as much as I enjoyed her wet tongue licking mine this morning."
"What?" the coach utters in shock, looking between us with wide eyes, his face turning bright red as if he just ate a spicy pepper.
Mrs. Jones chuckles, enjoying the awkwardness she has created. "Yes," she purrs. "Amy may be inexperienced, but she is quite eager to learn, and I promised to teach her everything about sex. Isn't that right, sweety?"
Unable to look either of them in the eye, I stare at my hands, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. "Yes, Mrs. Jones," I whisper.
Mrs. Jones smirks, leaning in closer to the coach, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm sure you'll be more than happy to help with her education, won't you, John?"