Friday, August 3, 2012

Teaching and learning

I started this because of a prompt from the grand mistress of this blog about a back to school theme so went for something about teaching; something new about the beginning of a coming of age series of sorts, so here we go; taking a young girl fresh out of school and throwing her into a world of new experiences.

Dear Diary,

Today I rushed home from work stressed and frustrated, my body aching. Feelings coursed through me that I didn't understand. I kept telling myself, that I was straight. It was just that I was waiting to find the right person to share that act with. It was not for any reason of faith, though my Catholic upbringing was probably an influence. I had spent two days and a single night away from home and now I was free to write down things and think and question how I feel.

I had been on a long shift in the office, as you already know I am the personal assistant to a very powerful woman within the firearms industry. She designs holsters and other 'tactical equipment for the shooting female. I didn't know the specifics when I arrived for the job. I assumed it was for a standard job in the clothing industry. Since I started here I have been a model and test subject for various gear options because I am a small woman; four foot ten in 2 inch heels and a size two with B cup boobs. I am as small as small can be. My boss is five foot eight, a redhead with D's and the most gorgeous legs I have ever seen on a woman. I spend my time having her close to me; strapping things to me and pressing herself against me as she fiddles with buckles from behind to get the perfect fit. She's seen me in my underwear more times than I can count.
It's a fun job and never the same each day, though I do do the mundane PA things like running errands and answering phone calls. This being said, picking up magazines and ammo is more common than the starbucks runs of my old job.

Today, though, was definitely something different. I had been told to dress comfortably for a day of active work so I dressed in plain cotton panties and a simple sports bra and grabbed something I had been given by work but never thought I would wear. When shooting this summer's catalog the model for the combat trousers hadn't shown and the only person who could fit in them was me, so across the US there are pictures of me in fitted desert tiger striped combat trousers with armoured knees and an Under Body Armour Combat shirt to match It's not something you would wear casually to do the Walmart run, that and a pair of combat boots completed the look and at the end of the shoot I was allowed to keep the clothes. Driving to work in the pickup I had bought from my uncle before college for a hundred bucks, I wondered what the day ahead would bring.

I get into work at nine and get some laughs and odd looks from the rest of the team though they all point out I can rock the combats very well. I step into my boss’s office and she has 3 black cases with her about the size of her desk and a 50cal ammo can that I recognize having posed with it for photos. "Today hon, you and me are going to fix an issue that has been niggling me for a while," she said with her southern belle drawl that I found enticing for a weird reason.

"What's that Laura?"

"Well Siam, I am going to change something for you. You are 24 and thanks to your upbringing in Chicago have never fired a gun so I am taking the day off to take you out shooting. I mean you work for a weapons accessories designer and have posed with everything from p99 to M249 but you have not even fired a Ruger 1022."

"I guess when you put it like that it is kinda silly," I replied. Grabbing the case she indicated I joined her in taking out the weapons to my pickup and loaded them into the bed. We took my truck since it was easier to get the cases in and out and began the drive to the range. I sat nervously with anticipation of what was to come; her with a hand on my thigh as she ran me through what she called the four rules of firearms safety. These rules she said were from a guy called Jeff Cooper and were:
All guns are always loaded. Even if they are not, treat them as if they are.
Never let the muzzle cover anything you are not willing to destroy.
Keep your finger off the trigger till your sights are on the target.
Identify your target, and what is behind it. Never shoot at anything that you have not positively identified.

When she was happy that I had them memorized to her satisfaction we left the car and signed in at the range. It was quiet. In fact we were all alone that day at an indoor range that was well lit and rated for anything we wanted to shoot. Laura opened the cases and laid out the weapons for the day a startling array of pistols, rifles and shotguns many of which I recognized from days designing holsters and posing for photos with products. She started with a .22lr rifle that she said her dad had taught her to shoot with. As I shouldered it she came behind me caressing me almost altering my stance and grip till I was standing just so. Her hot breath on my neck sent a shiver through me that I didn't quite understand.

I fired the first shot and hit the target, her arms around my waist, her body supporting me as I leaned in. It was so intimate and felt a strange kind of wonderful. We moved on to larger rifles and throughout that morning, even though I got more and more confident, she stayed in that position. It was so close that I could smell her perfume.

Leaving the range door locked as previously agreed with the owner at around midday, we went for lunch. On the walk from the range to the truck I found that she had rented the entire place just to teach me to shoot without any pressure or stress. When I found this out I blushed and mumbled a thank you and her response was a hug that lingered longer than the usual hugs between friends. We got back into the truck and went to a small restaurant that served fusion food with their own twist on dishes from all across the world in a cozy kicked up smart yet casual atmosphere. It was an odd feeling walking into a restaurant full of businessmen and well dressed women whilst stood in combats. Laura took my hand and acted like it was no big deal.
The waitress seated us and asked us for our drink orders. She ordered an ice tea and I asked for a coke, the waitress replied what kind and I was confused for a second before remembering the local slang I had still to master. I then settled on a grape soda and we glanced at the menu. Throughout all of this Laura had unloosened her boots and mine under the table and was resting her sockclad foot on mine. Unused to the contact but enjoying it, I let it slide. We shared a meal that was part American New York steak strips in a Chinese sesame sauce and part fried chicken in tempura batter with traditional sides.

Leaving after the meal we headed back to the range where we spent the afternoon on pistols. Starting in much the same way as the morning had she pressed herself close against me caressing my hands and tightly holding me adjusting my position. Even though she was in the same place because of the tighter stance and closer hand position, was it my imagination or was she pressed tighter her warmth on my body? We continued to shoot for a few hours relaxed and calm with this woman who set my pulse racing still close enough to me that I felt her heart beating alongside mine, ending the day with a stack of targets, much less ammunition and finally a burst from a legally owned MP5K.

We packed up and took everything back to the office and she asked me to give her a ride home. The atmosphere was strange, she was still touchy feely, but to be honest I wasn't compaining. When we got there she unlocked her garage and we parked next to her off road bikes and walked into the house. "I'm gonna grab a shower Siam, if you want one you can use the guest room." As she said this she calmly began to undress as if it was no big deal. Her hair taken down with one hand as she slid off her combat trousers leaving those legs I was so enamored by bare, clad in a combat shirt and a pair of black cotton boyshorts that hugged her figure and showed off every curve of her fantastic arse. Her combat shirt was unbuttoned slowly in a way that was effortlessly sexy and all I could do was stare. I slowly kicked off my boots and tried to hide the fact I watched her undress and expose the black silky bra that covered those boobs I was so jealous of. I was left in my plain sports bra and panties feeling fat and ugly in comparison, she as I think watching me as I watched her but I couldn't be sure. She cuddled me close both of us just in underwear and kissed my cheek, "You're a sweet girl Siam." As she walked away she casually slid out of her underwear baring that fantastic arse which to my shock and amusement carried a small tattoo of a rose wrapped round a small symbol that I vaguely recognized as the symbol for a woman in the colors of the gay pride flag.

I left to the shower questioning what I feel, she was gorgeous, such a fantastic body, so confident in her movement effortlessly graceful. My mind running back over the day over each movement she made as I ran my soapslick hand across my naked body. Every time I reached the image of her slowly seductively removing the combat shirt my movements washing my body became less about scrubbing the dust and grime of the day away but more about caressing and teasing.

My breasts touched and stroked my nipples stiffening as I rolled them with my thumb, shivers running down my am as my hand wandered down my tummy slowly inexorably until I felt my hand snaking into the small patch of blond hair between my legs, I slide my fingers in slow and gentle teasing my lips without thinking barely realizing I am masturbating till the first wave of pleasure hits. My hand on autopilot now moaning to myself, lost in half remembered images part real part imagined.

I see in my mind her breasts slowly uncovered, her powerful legs wrapped around mine as we kiss. I see her tongue plunging into my mouth as I hold her, my hand on her ass as she moans. Each image flashing through my mind pushed me higher and higher, wetter deeper into the coming release building like the pressure of a river behind a rock, the river pounding against this dam until the levee breaks in an explosion of energy firing through me. She’s caressing me, her nails on my back as she controls everything even though she’s under me. My fingers sliding into her wetness as we kiss as her mouth plants featherlight kisses on my nipples, me gasping into her grip as I attack her neck and earlobes.

I was slumped against the wall trying to ignore the lingering questions running through my mind as I focus on the gasping bark of pleasure from her mouth. Each image, each touch pushing me higher and higher, god it was fucking fantastic diary it was the best I have had, even the one time with a guy at a church camp wasn’t like this, intense, passionate, building layers and layers of pleasure; it was so good. So good that it almost hurt in it’s intensity like some runaway train hurtling towards a cliff but it’s a ride I don’t want to end.  It’s almost too good to push for the release but god I wanted that release that rush. I moaned gasped mewled and begged and was so fucking close but there were these worries and questions that I couldn’t quite escape from.

I am straight aren’t I? So why am I wanting her so badly? Her mouth, her bum her boobs. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

The guilty worries all but forgotten as my hand worked faster and faster my thumb on my clit. I was moaning, crying out, muffling myself by biting my lip and hoping the noise of the running water would muffle my cries. The force of the power shower pounding on my body awakens every sensitive part of me attacked by the water. I was shaking, gasping, begging silently for a release that wouldn’t come. She was gorgeous naked in front of me, allowing me to devour her. I fell and that’s about all I remember. God it was intense, fucking amazing, this orgasm explosion inside of me. And all this good little Catholic straight girl could think of was fucking this southern belle until she screamed my name.

“Siam? Siam? Hon are you ok? You’ve been in there an awful long while,” was the first thing I heard. I groaned lightly and Laura came into the shower room to find me slumped on the floor dazed, confused, having hit my head.

'Shit, I must have passed out' was all I could think still coming down from the rush and blood trickling down my head from a small cut. She rushed in wearing just a nightgown and helped me up as I mumbled apologies, her cradling my limp body to hers as she lifted me to my feet and sat me down cleaning the blood off me and sorting the injury with the box from the bathroom cabinet. She held me close, helped me get dressed and told me, “Ain’t no way you’re gonna be alone tonight.”

So Diary, I was sat on the sofa in my bosses house bandaged and bruised after masturbating to her perfect body, embarrassed by the fact that I had manage to knock myself unconscious through the power of an orgasm. She was an angel curled up with me on the sofa. She made sure I wasn’t suffering from dizziness, blurred vision or anything else that screamed concussion. When it was time for us both to retire to bed her in her room me on the pullout guest room bed I looked up on my toes to kiss her cheek gently. But just as she was turning to say goodnight, her tongue was slipping into my mouth, probably out of habit for her.

This kiss, it felt both familiar yet different. I've had kissed someone before but kissing a girl was different than a man. The feel of her arms snaking round me and the feel of her boobs pressed against me. All there was between us was thin pieces of cotton. I squeaked and panicked and fled to the room blushing from the yowling moan that escaped my lips, my body complaining at the loss of contact. Leaving Laura standing, watching me run, not saying a word due to what I think was shock but also it turned out later as to not upset me. I laid awake for what seemed like hours that night going over both that kiss and the shower.
The next day diary was something else. It was insane, good, bad, scary, amazing, fear and love all in one day. But Diary it’s late I need to sleep and so I will continue this tomorrow


1 comment:

  1. I can't apologise enough for it being late but here it is.