Her name was Astrella, and she came from France. The year was 1996, and I was a sophomore in high school. She wasn't the hottest girl in the school, definately the hottest girl in class, and had without a doubt the nicest, biggest set of bazoombas I had seen all year. She may have been 17 years old, and had already developed a beautiful set of D cups. She was never shy with her choice of clothing, and because of that, I took immediate interest.
Now back when I was 15, I wasn't the rico suave I am today, so I had no clue how to talk to her. Every now and then I'd just say hi, and then stare at her eraser sized nipples poking out of her usually pastel colored shirt. Some days, I'd fall asleep at my desk and dream about sucking on them. When I look back on the whole experience, I think she knew I was staring, but probably didn't care. I hear French chicks are more open with their sexuality, and apparently, it starts as young as 17.
It was a cold day. Snow was falling outside as we learned about, well, I couldn't tell you what we were learning about that day, but I can tell you what I was doing. I was watching the nipples get harder than ever. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I wanted to cry, but I didn't, and if I did, you'll never fucking prove it asshole!
Mr. Krogel had decided he didn't feel like that day, which was a common occurence, so he decided to hand us some worksheets, and let us work in teams. Those of you who can't see where this is going, get a fucking clue. Those who can, it only gets better. So after we decide that we're going to work in a group, we push our desks to the back of the class, and scoot them next to each other. All the other nerds were putting the desks together front to front so they had to stare at one another. At the time I thought that might be a good thing, but when she put her hand on my knee, I realized side by side was the place to be.
I don't remember what she was trying to explain to me, as I had not paid attention in class all year. It had something to do with some formula or function or whatever, but the only formula I was thinking about was Me+her=69. After what was probably the 40th time of her catching me staring at her tits, she must have figured I wasn't going to be much help with her math.
Placing her pencil in between her fingers, she rubbed the eraser around her left nipple (she was on my right), and lightly made circles around it. I'm sure as hell I drooled. I can't remember it, but I'd bet money that I did. So here I am, sitting no more than 4 inches from this very cute, very busty french student, and I'm staring at her while she is playing with her breasts. She giggled in an almost pornographic way that let me know it was ok for me to be staring.
The more she rubbed my leg, the less chance I had of standing up anytime within the next half hour. For a split second, I got scared. I got shy. I almost wanted to turn away and act like I was interested in the assignment that had to be finished. When my boner reached the size of giganormous, I knew there was no turning back. I'd never gotten to first base before that day, and I was determined to at least get a hand on one of the reasons I was only getting a C in calculus.
I went out on a limb, and grabbed her leg. It was nice and soft. The more she slid her hand up, the more I did. It was like playing a game of chicken without the danger of falling off a cliff. The only danger we faced was getting caught groping each other in school, which was more exciting at the time than scary. By the time I was at her waste, she was rubbing my cock through my jeans. Not to be outdone, I slid my hand up her shirt and reached for the promised land. When I got there, I have to admit, I had no idea what I was doing. "Should I play with the nipple, or rub the bulk of it?" was the first thing to pop in my head.
I'm glad I decided to stick to the nipple, because it really excited her. Playing with the nipple between my thumb and pointer finger caused her breathing to speed up, along with her hand on my jeans. When she jerked her hand away, I quickly slid my hand out of her shirt, afraid we had been caught. I glanced over the room and nobody was paying any attention to us in the back. The teacher was lost in his newspaper as usual. I whipped my head over to Astrella and gave her the look of "What the fuck you tease??"
It must not have been a subtle look, because she grabbed my right hand with her left, and slid it up the front of her pants. If she had been wearing jeans, it might have been difficult, but because of the dress-style pants she had on, my middle finger easily reached down to the soaking wet spot that had developed. Having seen porn before, I let my life imitate the art I'd seen. I swirled my finger around and around. At that point, President Clinton himself could have walked in and I wouldn't have noticed. I had my hands down the pants of of a girl I barely knew, in a classroom with roughly 30 students and a teacher.
It only lasted maybe 10 minutes, but it was the first sexual experience of any kind for me, and easily the most fucked up.
She ended up getting sent back home a few weeks later, and nothing more than that ever happened between us. Her sponsoring family couldn't deal with her staying out all night and coming home smelling of alcohol.
French girls know how to party.
Now back when I was 15, I wasn't the rico suave I am today, so I had no clue how to talk to her. Every now and then I'd just say hi, and then stare at her eraser sized nipples poking out of her usually pastel colored shirt. Some days, I'd fall asleep at my desk and dream about sucking on them. When I look back on the whole experience, I think she knew I was staring, but probably didn't care. I hear French chicks are more open with their sexuality, and apparently, it starts as young as 17.
It was a cold day. Snow was falling outside as we learned about, well, I couldn't tell you what we were learning about that day, but I can tell you what I was doing. I was watching the nipples get harder than ever. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I wanted to cry, but I didn't, and if I did, you'll never fucking prove it asshole!
Mr. Krogel had decided he didn't feel like that day, which was a common occurence, so he decided to hand us some worksheets, and let us work in teams. Those of you who can't see where this is going, get a fucking clue. Those who can, it only gets better. So after we decide that we're going to work in a group, we push our desks to the back of the class, and scoot them next to each other. All the other nerds were putting the desks together front to front so they had to stare at one another. At the time I thought that might be a good thing, but when she put her hand on my knee, I realized side by side was the place to be.
I don't remember what she was trying to explain to me, as I had not paid attention in class all year. It had something to do with some formula or function or whatever, but the only formula I was thinking about was Me+her=69. After what was probably the 40th time of her catching me staring at her tits, she must have figured I wasn't going to be much help with her math.
Placing her pencil in between her fingers, she rubbed the eraser around her left nipple (she was on my right), and lightly made circles around it. I'm sure as hell I drooled. I can't remember it, but I'd bet money that I did. So here I am, sitting no more than 4 inches from this very cute, very busty french student, and I'm staring at her while she is playing with her breasts. She giggled in an almost pornographic way that let me know it was ok for me to be staring.
The more she rubbed my leg, the less chance I had of standing up anytime within the next half hour. For a split second, I got scared. I got shy. I almost wanted to turn away and act like I was interested in the assignment that had to be finished. When my boner reached the size of giganormous, I knew there was no turning back. I'd never gotten to first base before that day, and I was determined to at least get a hand on one of the reasons I was only getting a C in calculus.
I went out on a limb, and grabbed her leg. It was nice and soft. The more she slid her hand up, the more I did. It was like playing a game of chicken without the danger of falling off a cliff. The only danger we faced was getting caught groping each other in school, which was more exciting at the time than scary. By the time I was at her waste, she was rubbing my cock through my jeans. Not to be outdone, I slid my hand up her shirt and reached for the promised land. When I got there, I have to admit, I had no idea what I was doing. "Should I play with the nipple, or rub the bulk of it?" was the first thing to pop in my head.
I'm glad I decided to stick to the nipple, because it really excited her. Playing with the nipple between my thumb and pointer finger caused her breathing to speed up, along with her hand on my jeans. When she jerked her hand away, I quickly slid my hand out of her shirt, afraid we had been caught. I glanced over the room and nobody was paying any attention to us in the back. The teacher was lost in his newspaper as usual. I whipped my head over to Astrella and gave her the look of "What the fuck you tease??"
It must not have been a subtle look, because she grabbed my right hand with her left, and slid it up the front of her pants. If she had been wearing jeans, it might have been difficult, but because of the dress-style pants she had on, my middle finger easily reached down to the soaking wet spot that had developed. Having seen porn before, I let my life imitate the art I'd seen. I swirled my finger around and around. At that point, President Clinton himself could have walked in and I wouldn't have noticed. I had my hands down the pants of of a girl I barely knew, in a classroom with roughly 30 students and a teacher.
It only lasted maybe 10 minutes, but it was the first sexual experience of any kind for me, and easily the most fucked up.
She ended up getting sent back home a few weeks later, and nothing more than that ever happened between us. Her sponsoring family couldn't deal with her staying out all night and coming home smelling of alcohol.
French girls know how to party.
