9 good miss 2

It took me a moment or two to find my voice again. "Yes, Mrs. Goodwin, I would like to look at your front." I did not trust myself to say the word 'breasts.'

I sidled around the bench until knees were almost touching. I could not really take my eyes off of my shoes. I was embarrassed and scared that something awful was going to happen.

"Don't worry, Sweetie," Joan said in a reassuring voice. "They won't hurt you."

With that I looked up. All guys want to have something sophisticated or cool to say at a time like this. "Gee, Mrs. Goodwin, what did you do to make them so beautiful?" is what I blurted out.

She threw her head back and laughed. I had the pleasure of seeing her breasts jiggle as she laughed. My penis was making its presence known by its incessant pulsing.

Mrs. Goodwin smiled at me as she reached out and touched my cheek. "Andrew that is the sweetest thing anybody has said to me in a long, long time."

"What about Mr. Goodwin?"

Joan sighed again. "He doesn't look at me all that often anymore." My parents had been divorced since I was five years old, and too young to read the signs. I didn't know that intimacy was often an early casualty of marriage.

I now took the time to have a good look at Joan's breasts. They were full, sort of pear-shaped, and low slung with large pale pink areolas and prominent nipples. She turned a little left and right so I could see them from several different angles. They were very nice. My penis was threatening to burst out of my jeans.

"Have you ever seen a woman's breasts before?"

"No." I was too absorbed in staring at her breasts to reply with more than monosyllables.

"Not even in a magazine?" Joan asked playfully.

"No…Well, maybe once or twice," I admitted.

"Sweetie," Joan said softly, "I want you to touch them."

I must have given her a look of blank surprise because she nodded her head at me and smiled again.

Slowly, in part wanting to savor the moment and part apprehension that I was going to wake up from a dream, I reached out to Joan's beautiful breasts.

The moment that I first touched Joan was an instant to remember. Her breasts were soft, yet at the same time firm. And they were warm to my touch. Purely out of male instincts I began to gently squeeze and caress them. My efforts were rewarded by the magical feeling of Joan's nipples becoming erect against the palms of my hands.

Joan moaned softy and put her hands on mine. "Oh Sweetie, that feels wonderful."

All I could do was give a gentle squeeze as answer.

"Kiss them, Sweetie, kiss them!" Joan ordered breathlessly.

Reluctantly I released her breasts and knelt down between her legs.

I bent slightly to start kissing Joan's breasts. I resisted the impulse to head straight for the nipple of her right breast. Instead I started my kisses at the base. With tender kisses I slowly inched my way across and down towards her nipple.

"Oh, Andrew," she murmured, "You have the softest lips!"

As I approached the areola, I started kissing around the edge, gradually spiraling closer and closer towards the nipple of her breast.

"Oh Sweetie, you are such a tease!"

When I eventually reached Joan's nipple, I gave it the lightest kiss, then another a little harder, and then I took the sweet jewel in my mouth.

Joan started stroking my hair. "Sweetie, that feels wonderful! Don't stop. It's been so long!" She then pulled me close, between her beautiful breasts. She kissed me on the top of head, and then she took my head in both hands and brought me up to kiss her on the lips. She gave me a very long tender kiss.

"We have to wait. We can't let someone catch us here."

I nodded dumbly.

"Can you come to my house, Sweetie?"

I found my voice again. "Sure, where do you live?"

Joan rattled off an address. It was only about two miles from campus in the opposite direction from my house. I nodded in agreement. It would not be too far of a bike ride. "I need to call my mom," I said as I stood up.

"Use the phone on my desk." Joan smiled again at me. "Now scoot!" she ordered playfully.

I had just settled in behind Mrs. Goodwin's desk when Mrs. Cole came into the office. It was a good thing too: my penis making a huge bulge in the front of my jeans.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"Mrs. Goodwin said I could use the phone to call my mom, Mrs. Cole."

"All right," she said, "Just make it quick." She then did something very odd: she smiled at me. "You did an excellent job at the track meet today, young man."

"Thank you, Ma'am," I knew that it was best to be very formal with Mrs. Cole.

"I wanted to beat the pants off of Mr. Hannigan's class."

"Yes, Ma'am."

With a nod Mrs. Cole headed back towards the locker room.

I picked up the phone and asked the school operator for an outside line. I dialed my mom's work number.

"Hi Mom."

"Oh hi there. I'm glad you called. I was going to call you. Ray has asked me to go out to dinner and a movie tonight." Ray was my mom's boyfriend. I was not that fond of him, but that is another story. "You'll have to find your own dinner."

"Then I guess it's okay if I go over to Hal's house then?" I said giving a plausible lie. Hal was my best friend and I often went over to his house on the way home from school.

"Of course, dear."

"Maybe I can mooch a meal off of Mrs. Taylor."

Mom laughed. Mrs. Taylor, Hal's mom, had the well deserved reputation of being a really lousy cook. Hal often came over meals at our house. "Maybe you can, but there's a casserole in the freezer if you'd rather."

"Okay, Mom," I said brightly. "You and Ray have a good time."

"Sure thing. Bye"

"Bye Mom," I said as I hung up the phone. It was all set. I knew that Ray would keep Mom out until at least midnight, so I had no constraints.

I figured that it would take Mrs. Goodwin another fifteen minutes or so to shower and change. I had enough time to go to my locker, get my book bag and then get my bike.

I rode over to the faculty parking lot, looking for Mrs. Goodwin's car. I was very sure that she drove a Gold Duster, but I wasn't completely sure. I cruised around the parking lot trying not to look like I was loitering. Sure enough, Mrs. Goodwin came walking into the parking lot and headed towards that Gold Duster that I had pegged as hers. She had changed into a nice pair of tan slacks and plain white blouse. I rode my bike over to her.

"Hi Mrs. Goodwin."

"Oh hi, Andrew. Still here?" she said with a smile. She dug into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Could you be a sweetie and throw this away for me?" she asked.

"Sure, Mrs. Goodwin," I said taking the paper. I got up on the pedals of my bike. "Have a nice weekend, Mrs. Goodwin."

"I'm sure I will, Andrew," she called after me as I rode away.

Once I had saw Joan drive away I un-crumpled the paper she had given me. As I suspected it was her address and the notation 'Give me ten minutes.' That was an easy enough request to follow, and I figured that it would take another ten minutes of so to ride over to her house.

I gave Mrs. Goodwin the ten minute head start that she wanted, and then rode over to her house. I was right in my estimate of how long it took. Mrs. Goodwin's house was a rather nondescript southern Californian late fifty's era tract house. It was white with yellow trim, and a nice green lawn in front. Mrs. Goodwin's car was in the driveway. I pulled my bike up in front of her car.

I had a kind of odd feeling in the pit of my stomach as I walked up to the front door. I liked Mrs. Goodwin, I was still turned on by what had happened in the coach's locker room, and part of me wanted to continue, but also part of me wanted to run away. I took a deep breath, swallowed hard and rang the doorbell.