In addition to my other teaching duties, I also monitor a study period for the children I teach in first period. Study period is held in the school library and the kids are supposed to work on group assignments, do research, read, or catch up on missed homework, etc. Needless to say, they aren't experts at the Dewey-Decimal system, and when the period is over, my group goes to lunch, leaving books from the library scattered on the worktables. Ours is a small school, and we tend to pitch in to help each other. That's how my story begins.
One morning, like the many before it, I scooted the children from the library to head them towards the cafeteria. I went back to the library and started to collect the books and reference materials the kids had left on the desks and tables. This was rather routine and we encouraged the kids to leave the books, since we could put them away faster and more accurately than if they tried to do it themselves. I had an armful of books, pre-sorted, and approached the Librarian who was in the process of putting the books back on the shelves. Frances is a very prim woman, just about my age (30-something) and always dressed conservatively -- calf length skirts, silk blouses, her hair up in a French braid or bun, etc.
Frances was standing on the top of a two-step stool with her back to me, and as I walked up behind her, my foot tangled with the leg of the stool and I tripped. My arms flew out in front of me, my hands dropped the books and I reached to grab something to stop my fall. What I grabbed was Frances' bottom. My hand flattened against her cheek as I kept pushing breaking my fall. Once I had my balance back, I apologized for shoving her, and squatted down to pick up the books that fell from arms. Frances came off the stool and began to help, facing me as she squatted. As she handed me the last of the books, she looked directly into my eyes and said, "You know, if you want to feel my ass, you can use both hands."
With that she stood up and climbed on top of the stool, leaving me red-faced and speechless. I wondered if that had been an invitation. For the several years that she and I worked at the school, attended the many teacher and staff meetings, we hardly ever spoke, except to exchange pleasantries. We weren't friends, merely acquaintances, and our daily duties generally kept us separated except for the 45 minutes we shared her library, and most often I was preoccupied with the students.
As I stood up and turned to hand her the books, I noticed that her legs were slightly -- very slightly -- bent at the knees, which had the tendency to have her bottom pushed back to me. Pleasantly round and firm, it actually looked very touchable. I looked to see if I could detect a panty line, and could not. Was she pantyless, I wondered. Not now I told myself as I felt the tingle in my pussy. I knew what that would bring -- the dampness and then an itch that would require attention.
I handed her the remainder of the books, scurried around to collect the rest of the ones on the tables, sorted them, and pleasantly said goodbye. As I left the library, I glanced at my watch and noticed I had thirty minutes before my after-lunch schedule. I could go to the faculty cafeteria or I could spend a few moments `by myself'. I decided on the latter and walked across the hallway and entered the lavatory. To my pleasure, the room was completely empty and I chose the last stall. I entered and sat down, lowering my panties to my ankles and raising my skirt, bunching it around my tummy. I opened a couple buttons on my blouse and reached my fingers inside to rub over my nipples. As my other hand rubbed over my hairy mound and the middle finger slid between my lips I could feel the wetness already beginning to spread.
I enjoy masturbating with my finger running up and down my slit, bumping and nudging on my clit as I feel it getting larger. Most often, if I feel the need to masturbate during the day, I will use a faculty only restroom, to ensure privacy. For whatever reason, today I was using a more public girls room and taking my time rubbing myself when I heard the door open. I paused in mid-stroke, worried that I might be caught pleasuring myself, until I heard one of the other stall doors close. Determining that I was safe if I hurried and didn't make too much noise, I went back to fingering myself and playing with my nipples.
After a few minutes, I realized that who ever was in the other stall was trying to be as quiet as I was, but wasn't doing as good a job. When I get excited, I get very, very wet. On those occasions when I masturbate using penetration, my pussy starts singing to me with its squishy and spongy wet sounds. Whoever was in the other stall was clearly masturbating, and penetrating herself, and despite her attempt to be quiet, the sounds were echoing off the tiled walls.
Her sounds were stimulating and soon I was in the throes of a major orgasm, and as I listened, so was my lavatory partner. I gasped as I heard her moan, and I am sure that we came at the same time. Collecting myself took another few minutes, and about the same time that I reached to unroll a piece of tissue to wipe myself dry I heard the same sound from the other stall. After flushing the toilet, and putting myself back in order I left the stall, sure that I knew what the other person had been doing, and confident that they could not have been positive about what I might have been in the middle of.
I walked to the sink and as I turned on the faucet, I quickly ran my finger beneath my nose, and just as I did, the other stall opened and out stepped Frances. She looked at me through the reflection in the mirror and raised her finger to her own nose. "Do you ever taste it afterwards?" she asked just before she popped her middle finger into her mouth, sucking it and taking it all the way in. I feigned a look of surprise, as if I had no idea what she was talking about. Before I could get the soap on my hands and put them under the running water, Frances stepped to me and took my right hand. Passing the middle finger under her nose, she sniffed the finger that moments before had been running up and down my soaked slit. She slid the finger between her lips and sucked on it as she swirled her tongue all around it.
"Oh, tasty!" she said, "almost as nice as mine" she added with a giggle. I was stunned, in all my years of masturbating, I had only been caught a handful of times. I really flushed now. Frances sensed my embarrassment and pressed her lips against my cheek and gave me a quick and tender kiss. She moved her lips to my ear and whispered "I really wish you had used both hands when you played with my ass." Then she added, "This lavatory is usually very private this time of day. See you tomorrow!" She turned and walked towards the door, never looking back, and exited the lavatory. I turned off the water in the sink, went back into the stall I had been using, lowered my panties, unbuttoned my blouse and hiked up my skirt. Frances was right, this room was private this time of day. When I came the next time I wasn't worrying about making noise. And, I couldn't wait until tomorrow!