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Chapter 68 — Mavel, leaving Church
My young Filipina colleague Mira and I had started a small affair at work. About two months back, she had invited me to a spontaneous lunch in her room, during which we talked about her bisexuality and sensual matters in general. Said afternoon had ended in a marvelous blowjob, as the tension had risen beyond our control during our hour-long talk about men and women. Her promiscuity and bisexuality had isolated her, though, among her Filipino colleagues, and she was also having the blues since her girlfriend—and our coworker—Carol was unable to return to Vietnam at the moment.
Mira had also broken up with her boyfriend, who was a sailor in the Philippine navy, as he had asked her to strip in front of her webcam one evening, but had clandestinely invited his buddies to watch Mira getting naked. Stricken by these blows, she had been happy to have a heart-to-heart with me, and since then our souls and bodies had become closer and closer.
Overall, Mira seemed happy not to be romantically involved with anyone right now but still be able to enjoy sensual adventures once in a while. For years, she had blown her college boyfriend and enjoyed affairs with women, but she was still a virgin, partially because she had a rather large clit, which resembled a tiny penis. As a result, she had never been able to undress freely and give in to sensual pleasures with impunity. However, when I had been in her room the last time, we had made strides in the right direction again.
As she was having her period this week, we hadn’t arranged to meet, even though I enjoyed period sex. Maybe she had cramps or felt nauseous in general, so I didn’t want to push the matter. She also needed some more time, perhaps, to prepare for the big step of her defloration. I still thought that we could see each other briefly at least for another round of quick oral sex, though. Or did she want me to become active this time?!
This question answered itself when I saw a group of my Filipino colleagues outside the smaller of the two Catholic churches in our town on my way to work one early afternoon. The Filipinos were gesticulating with a cab driver at the curbside, and so I stopped. Perhaps I could translate and help. Two of my coworkers seemed slightly upset. Mira was standing a few yards to the side and smiled as soon as she had seen me.
The problem was that the Filipinos needed a van, as they had requested before they went inside the church, but, still, the company had only sent a regular mid-sized car. There were six of them, and so I just nodded at Mira and offered to take her back to the school, which was just over a mile away. Technically, they all could have walked back, as the weather was pleasant; it wasn’t raining or hot. Extrovert and isolated as Mira was anyway, she just waved at the others and sat down behind me on my Honda, and we watched how the five of them squeezed into the relatively small car.
As I was happy to see her and the whole thing didn’t really seem to be a problem, I asked where she wanted to go.
“Have you had lunch yet? Or shall we go for coffee?”
I had already eaten, but she liked to sleep long and was probably hungry. But I wanted to have a coffee anyway before work, as was my habit.
“Well, true, I haven’t eaten lunch yet, but I have food at home,” she wondered. “We could go back to the school …”
“Let’s eat something since we’re in town together. You’ve also dressed up,” I reminded her.
“Ok,” she nodded. “If you don’t mind … but you’ve probably eaten already, haven’t you?”
I nodded but told her that didn’t matter.
“Rice and chicken down the street?” I asked her, pointing behind me over my shoulder with my thumb.
After she had pondered the issue for a few seconds, she relented.
“Yeah, that’s actually not bad.”
So I did a U-turn and drove the 400 yards back and turned left at the traffic light. The joint was a hundred yards down the street on the right. The selection of lunch restaurants was relatively modest in our provincial town, but that little rice-and-chicken place here was pretty good. They only had one dish, so they were good at making it.
I only ordered a plate for her, but since no one came here together to order only one they brought me a plate too, like by default. She seemed hungry, though, and so I immediately relieved myself of a third of my portion before I touched it. She started to gobble her food down and, for once, wasn’t saying much.
Since she had just been to church, she had dolled herself up quite a bit. She had also been to the hairdresser; her hair was shorter now but she looked pretty spiffy. She was wearing subtle make-up, including lip-stick, and a white blouse with some stitching. I could see her bra, though, as the fabric of her blouse was kinda thin. Over her shirt, she donned a vanilla cardigan.
Her relatively short, burgundy skirt was perhaps the one that I had already liked when she had been an intern at our school three years back. It ended five inches above her knees when she was standing, so now, as she was sitting, it İstanbul Escort only covered half of her thighs, which stuck in cream-colored tights. At the bottom of which I saw lace, so I surmised the same would be true for the top. Her feet were naked and stuck in roundish black shoes, which reminded me of Japanese school girls’. It was nice to see her in town, outside the school, as our affair had exclusively taken place in her room so far. I didn’t know if the other Filipinos had noticed that I sometimes went to see her in the afternoon.
The chicken in front of us was rolled in an interesting, thick, black sauce, which was salty and sweet. One plate cost only a buck-and-change. It tasted decent, but Mira still hadn’t said a thing. Perhaps she was a little tense, as she knew that our next encounter—should it turn sexual—could mean her defloration, which was a delicate situation. But, somehow, I didn’t want to discuss it; I preferred to go with the proverbial flow when it came to such matters. So I just admired her some more and mused about the top of her tights and thighs.
She was also wearing two rings on her left hand, which I hadn’t noticed before. She really looked awesome, hot, actually, and I asked her now if her skirt was the one I had liked when she had been an intern.
She thought about it for a few seconds and then laughed: “Yeah, that could well be. You have an amazing memory!”
“I already liked you back then,” I said forthright. “And it goes really well with the white blouse that you’re wearing. You look incredible!”
She laughed again and thanked me for the compliment. Now, she even turned her lower body out from under the table and presented me her tights:
“These stockings here are actually Carol’s,” she admitted impishly.
“But she’s five inches taller than you!” I exclaimed.
“Four,” she corrected me. “Yeah, doesn’t matter. The tights only go to about half of her thighs, but with me they go all the way up,” she giggled. “You should see her wearing them. They look really sexy on her, as you can see the lacy hem under her skirt.”
With these words, she looked around the empty restaurant and then pulled up her skirt. Sure enough, the tights ended close to her panties but I still saw some light flesh up there. Seeing a bit of thigh skin between panties and tights was one of the hottest details on a woman, and I thought briefly of Nguyet.
“There’s some more lace up there,” I remarked.
“Yeah, you don’t wear them to keep warm but to look sexy,” Mira explained. “Carol — or any other young woman in the Philippines — wear them on weekends when they go out. Like I said, they are supposed to end at about the middle of your thighs. Together with a skirt, that looks really hot,” she said like she had read my mind.
“But isn’t that too sexy for church?” I asked.
“Well, you can’t see the upper part, as I’m shorter. I think it’s ok.”
I guessed she was right. And it didn’t really matter. I thought she had found the right balance between dressing up and staying modest. I would have described her outfit today as ‚reluctantly sexy’. And I didn’t care about the church anyway.
“You don’t go to church, do you?” Mira inquired coincidentally.
I shook my head and asked back how often she actually went.
“Oh, perhaps four or five times per year. Mostly on holidays. It’s just been All Saints Day,” she added. “When I was little, I was always excited to go to church: the organ, the choir, the candles … and the whole family all dressed up … and, of course, the huge, impressive building with the tall clock-tower …” she reminisced.
“Well, the churches in the Philippines are probably more impressive than the two we have here in town,” I stated. “The small church where we just met is rather modest, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but they don’t want any foreigners at the bigger church in town, which is kind of ironic when you think about it. I mean, we’re Catholics. Anyway, I like small, modest churches, as they remind me of the one in my grandma’s village in the Philippines. Just like the crucifix here, which almost looks like the one I often looked at during my childhood.”
“Do you know what a crucifix reminds me of? I hope you won’t be offended, though …” I warned her.
Mira looked at me expectantly.
“What?”
“The female reproductive system.”
She looked puzzled, and I could see that her mind was working. She didn’t seem to know what I was driving at or if she could or should laugh.
“Well, the hands are the ovaries, and the arms then the fallopian tubes. The torso is the uterus, and the legs are the vagina.”
As if she had to check that for herself, Mira didn’t say anything for a minute but seemed to go through the individual parts with her reproductive organs. Then, she finally cracked up:
“Well, that IS true … Jesus! Speaking off: shall we take off?”
Her ‚speaking off’ was maybe meant to be the transition to sensual pleasures, to make use of said organs in the missionary position. It would have been perfect but, alas, she might have just said it since she İstanbul Escort bayan needed to go. And I, myself, had a class at two o’clock, which prevented me from getting engage in the monumental task of deflowering her. I thought about it frantically but concluded that I didn’t want to squeeze this epic act between lunch and my first class. It had to happen some other time.
“When do you have to work this afternoon?” I asked her.
“Not till five-forty, but I have two online gigs from one-thirty to three-thirty.”
“Well, I’m off between half past three and five-forty,” I hinted. “Do you want me to come to your room then?”
She smiled and nodded: “That would be lovely.”
“Is your period over?” I asked her briefly.
“Yes, since yesterday,” she nodded again.
“Great,” I said, and we paid the lady at the rice-and-chicken place, as she was passing us.
Outside, Mira sat down behind me on my motorcycle again. I didn’t have a helmet for her, but the cops were all taking a nap anyway. While we were driving, I reiterated how beautiful she looked and how much I liked being in town together with her. She agreed and promised to doll up again for lunch some other day. She seemed in a relaxed, easy-going mood, and I couldn’t wait to see her in her chamber after my one-on-one.
The school was deserted when we arrived; there were no students or teachers in sight. I had a teenage girl now who I was to teach essay writing. The young woman was smart and had a nice hand-writing, so this was an easy gig. As soon as she had received a few words of instruction about how to write a film review, she put her pen to paper, which gave me the opportunity to envision my afternoon with my young colleague in more detail. I thought of Mira’s slim figure, her bra, her legs in those tights, the tender flesh between the lace and her panties, and my dick started to pump itself up.
So Mira wore Carol’s tights. Did she also wear her underwear? Carol had bigger tits, so her bra wouldn’t fit Mira, I thought. Maybe I would ask her later. Since Carol had assumed that she was going to be back in March or April after her brief holiday, she probably had left her whole wardrobe her at their room.
The way Mira had offered herself the last time, I had assumed that we would go all the way the next time, which was today. But getting deflowered after a chance meeting between classes on a Thursday afternoon?! Somehow, that didn’t sound right. She probably didn’t want that either. After my student had asked me something, I got back to the matter of sex with Mira and concluded that we should probably do it properly after a nice lunch, when we’re both dressed up nicely. Or even go to the beach and get a hotel room for the afternoon. After all, getting deflowered was a huge deal.
Of course, I didn’t get far with my musings, as my student interrupted me again to ask some question. Naturally, I was a little absent-minded and slightly miffed but then concluded that it was Mira’s choice anyway when to let it happen. Or I would ask her later. I was hoping that she would still be wearing the same clothes, but she had already said she wanted to take a shower when she was getting off my motorcycle. Chances were that she had already put on something else. I got slightly cross when my student got done quickly, gave her something else to do, and went outside to smoke. I needed to be alone with my thoughts.
Well, somehow it was nonsense to force her defloration today, wasn’t it? Just because she had been wearing a white blouse and my favorite red skirt. On the other hand, I didn’t want her to revert back to her old habit of just blowing guys. She was a woman who needed to fuck properly. She had a pussy for a reason, large clit or not. But, then, a nice blowjob was nothing to be trifled with. Her blowjobs were quite something. If we saved her defloration for another day, we still had it ahead of us, and we could make it really nice: with a nice lunch, not just good ol’ chicken and rice, and all dolled up. Yes, today wasn’t the day, I decided and went back inside my classroom and quickly read what my student had produced.
Since we still had another 30 minutes, I gave her a short biography about Amelia Earhart and asked her to summarize it in 150 words, so that I still could ruminate about Mira’s pussy and her imminent defloration. Or not. When I opened my laptop, though I saw that Mira was calling me on Skype and prudently switched off the volume. I checked, looking over the edge of the screen, if my student was busily working and answered her call.
Mira had changed her clothes and was now wearing a different, more professionally looking white blouse and long dark-blue skirt with folds, which was probably like a school uniform for teachers. I thought I had already seen wear her this outfit on some Facebook page. The blouse was plain white, and now Mira pressed the fabric of her skirt between her legs. She laughed and pushed herself away from her desk with both arms. As I couldn’t speak at the moment, I just held my thumb up. Mira fluttered her skirt enticingly around her knees and wrote Escort İstanbul that her second student had cancelled, so she was free to start our foreplay.
Mira knew that my student was still here in the room and thus didn’t expect me to talk to her or to engage in anything lewd on my part, but she was cheeky enough to begin herself. First, she pulled up her skirt a little, onto her thighs, which looked rather tempting, as light and slim as they were. Now, she tickled her pussy a little through the fabric of her skirt, and I gave her another thumbs-up. Then she opened her ponytail and shook her hair.
When I looked at my unsuspecting student, I saw that she was fully immersed in her summary. She had her tongue between her teeth and was penning away. Her essays were actually quite good, but the one she was writing right now, I wouldn’t be able to correct till the next day. I knew that much already. I couldn’t think straight, especially since Mira had now started to unbutton her blouse. The lacy white bra that she had underneath looked stunning, and I almost asked her to not remove it; I could take care of that once I was down in her room, in fifteen minutes. And, yes, she just pulled her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and held it open so that I could marvel at her gorgeous, supple upper body.
To say I was glad that I was going to hold this endearing creature in my arms in a quarter of an hour would have been the understatement of the year. I didn’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to touch, caress, kiss, lick, and bite this charming young woman the same afternoon: Gotten my dick out and jerked off profusely? As my student was still sitting eight feet away from me, though, I had to be patient for another ten minutes or so.
As was to be expected, Mira now took off her blouse and then opened her bra. She didn’t take it off right away, however, but pressed it with both crossed arms onto her chest. Concurrently, she lifted up her feet and pressed them against the edge of the desk, so that her skirt fell back some more towards her lap. It was only a matter of time before I would see her panties — if she still was wearing any.
Now she was holding her bra with only one arm and used the other to pull back her skirt further. With her feet still against the edge of the desk, she pulled her skirt up further and further, until I was able to see both legs completely. Her muscular little thighs looked fucking hot, especially since I could see the line between the larger muscle in the front and the smaller one in the back. She spread and moved her legs, and I saw that she was wearing white panties. Her smile was incredibly lascivious and tantalizing, as it was the rare expression of an experienced virgin. She licked her blueish braces, and then her lips, before she nonchalantly let go of her bra, licked her fingertips, and started to twist her nipples.
The bell was going to ring in about five minutes. Nhat, the young woman sitting across from me, liked to go over a little, which, of course, she couldn’t do today. Unless Mira’s webcam show hadn’t finished yet. With my eyes glued to Mira’s naked breasts here on the screen, I asked Nhat to finish her essay at home or, if she was done, to just leave it on her desk; I’d check it later. I already had a formidable erection, which she didn’t need to notice. Nhat nodded, but Mira, at the other end, now pulled her skirt back fully.
Mira was offering me a view of her white panties, which probably weren’t Carol’s as perfect as they fit. She moved closer to the camera and her panties filled the whole screen. Down over her perineum, her panties were thick, but I could see her cute, little pubic mound underneath the lacy part in the front. I didn’t need to use my imagination to locate her large clit, which pressed cheekily through the mesh. I was torn, however, if I shouldn’t switch off the computer and wait to see her clit when I would be down in her room in another five minutes. Mesmerized by the whole scene, I moved two crooked fingers from left to right in front of my camera, telling Mira to pull her panties to the side.
Nhat seemed to be done, and so I insisted she should leave her work on the desk where she had been writing. My erection would have been rather obvious at that point, and so I had to remain seated. Mira knew I was going to be down in her chamber in about five minutes, but she seemed determined to go all the way immediately. She pulled her panties to the side; if I wasn’t completely mistaken, her lips were already moist and glistening—and her clit was twitching. She must have been incredibly horny, I thought, after the lunch earlier and the cam show now, which had been going on for about half an hour.
My student finally got up and said goodbye. Thank God, she didn’t want to go into extra time today. But Mira did: she pulled her pussy open with two fingers of each hand and let me look into her pink velvety sheath, which was pumping. Completely mesmerized, I was looking at the opening of her urethra and the jagged larger ring further down between the diamond-shaped darker frame if her inner labia. I hollered ‚See ya’ towards the door when Nhat was stepping out, looked at Mira’s snatch once more, and switched the computer off. I waited a few seconds before my erection would allow me to stand up and walk and went outside. I slowly sauntered past the empty classrooms here on the fourth floor.