Plucking the Cherry
Plucking the Cherry II
The Valet of Vicksburg
Art Feature
The Perfect Sin
by Cameo Brown
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So many years have passed since the day Ms. Garrett first sauntered into my life-on my eighteenth birthday, no less-but I still soak my panties when I picture her beautiful face. Her presence filled every corner of our tiny advanced biology classroom, intimidating the hell out of the snotty, back-stabbing Republican daddy's girls shifting uncomfortably in their drab blue plaid uniforms, so many ugly ducklings compared to the beautiful swan forcing their attention to the front of the room.

Short golden waves curved around her oval face and set off her chocolate brown eyes and full cherry lips. A stylishly modest dress hugged her curvy shape, highlighting her sexy assets while still appearing professional, a good choice for a first day among the fashion piranhas pretending to be good little learners at St. Jonathon's Academy for Rich Cunts and Future Trophy Wives. It was obvious Ms. Garrett knew how to handle herself around the rich and soon-to-be infamous, even though her enthusiasm for the job tagged her as having just graduated from University.

Ms. Garrett emanated the vitality of a 1920's flapper tempered with the brilliance and dedication of a neurosurgeon, and her energy rocked me to my very core. The first day she took over Mr. Forencki, who had-to no one's surprise or dismay-croaked suddenly from a heart attack, she also took over my heart, and I knew I would do anything it took to get my face between her leg.

And I did.

As bad as it will sound, I had been a good girl up until then. At the time, attending a private all-girls school should have been a blessing in disguise for me, but it wasn't. Most of the stupid rich bitches who populated the nightmare serving as my sexually-repressed adolescent existence specialized in MRS prep, focusing on important skills such as how to land the richest yuppie fuckup at St. Matthew's and mastering the most effective way to hide the immigration status of their Guatemalan maids. There was no way I was going lick the well-manicured pussy of one those nouveau riche whores-in-training for four years, only to have her drop me when she wandered off to Yale to find her a Harvard man.

Fuck that.

I was prepared to wear my fingers to the bone fingering myself, but it turned out I didn't have to. As fate would have it, a classmate of mine named Melinda became my fuckbuddy just before Ms. Garrett showed up. She, too, had a predilection for girls, but her uptight blueblood family would have flipped if they'd found out. A few months older, Melinda prided herself on her manipulative abilities. She was top of the class for more than one reason. If she wanted something, she got it, but since Daddy would probably have thrown a coronary if she'd asked for a pretty girl to give her a nice hard pussy lickin' for Christmas, she scrounged me up on her own.

Melinda really thought she'd put it over on me when she hinted friends "took care" of each other until they could find some boys to do it for them. It's natural, she assured me, but I suspect she didn't know how natural or good it felt until the first time my tongue worked its magic on her. I thought I'd killed her or she'd passed out, but it turned out she'd just never really cum until I "took care" of her. So much for her manipulative abilities. From then on, we had a steady study group just for us four-our two pussies and us.

We didn't care for each other really, but having Melinda stroke or penetrate me once in awhile felt much better than whacking myself off all the time. I was happy with the arrangement until the day Ms. Garrett showed up, and then it seemed like I was never going to be happy again until I could have my dear, so-very-off-limits teacher.

"Damn, Ellie, why are you so wet?" Melinda had asked, sliding her fingers into my well-lubed pussy when we met later that evening at her house. "You been daydreamin' about Xena again?" I shook my head.

"I don't know, Mel. Just shut up and fuck me. Hard," I croaked. I leaned my head on her shoulder and pressed my cunt into her fingers. Her tongue would have felt better, but I needed to cum fast. I'd been so horny all day I could hardly wait to get off. It took about three hard strokes against my clit, and I screamed so loud Mel almost smothered me against her T-shirt.

"Goddammit, El, you want someone to figure us out?" she growled as rode out my orgasm. She quit bitching as soon as I pushed her down on her bed and pressed my hand against the rough denim covering her crotch; funny how rubbing her pussy always seemed to calm her high-strung ass right down.

I pulled her jeans off, and she started breathing heavily. I pretended it was Ms. Garrett lying there, all stretched out and horny as hell. I lapped at Melinda's tight pink panties, which were soaked with her need, before I yanked them sideways and slid my tongue into her folds. She gasped and wiggled against my mouth.

"Take them off, El, take them off," she begged, and I accommodated her. Correction, I accommodated my surrogate Ms. Garrett. In any case, the panties came off and I dove in. In my mind, I was practicing. Practicing for the one perfect day when I would fuck the woman of my dreams until she screamed my name a hundred times.

I felt myself get wet all over again.

But I soldiered on, and Melinda loved it. I licked her hard all the way up and down, stopping for just a minute to focus on her clit. By the time I got done there and stuck my tongue inside her, she almost exploded. I'd never had her ride my face before, but Mel was out of control. Her hips bucked wildly and she moaned my name over and over. Finally, I slid my finger in her while using my tongue to take care of her hard nub, and she climaxed against me.

As she enjoyed her released, oblivious to anything around her, I reached down and started quietly fingering myself. It only took a minute before another orgasm rocked my body, and I laid my head against Mel's quilt, my eyes closed and a smile on my lips, picturing Ms. Garrett's elegant countenance. Mel rolled over and I opened my eyes. We stared at each other for the longest time before she spoke.

"God, El, that was�was�" her voice shook a little as she tried to get the words out.

"Incredible?" I offered, and she smiled. It should be incredible, I thought. I had tried really hard to please Ms. Garrett, and although it was only Melinda lying there breathless, I felt I had somehow proved I could turn a girl into a woman with just my fingers and tongue, and in my love-fevered mind that meant I could turn my inaccessible icon into the lover of my dreams. Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple as I thought it would be.

Days wore on as my feelings for Ms. Garrett, now Rowan, as I had come to discover her first name, grew exponentially. The more I learned about her, the more I wanted to know. She was an endless source of fascination, a brilliant, beautiful woman, and everything I had ever wanted. Hadn't I waited long enough?

My moods fluctuated based on whether I talked to Rowan or just saw her. If a day passed without a glimpse of my goddess, I became irritable. The sex between Mel and me, though, had never been better. We graduated to using vibrators, and although Mel still claimed she loved eating pussy, I got the feeling she liked sucking cock just as much. She tried it often enough.

"Jesus, El, are you jealous?" she snapped at me once when I questioned the extra-curricular activities she'd practically flung in my face, her eyes flashing anger and her tone accusing.

"No, Mel, I just think sucking off every guy within fifty miles is a bad idea, what with STD's being so widespread and all," was my sarcastic reply. It didn't go over too well. An unreadable expression crossed her face.

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