Sarah's Education by Madeline Moore Read Free Book Online Page A

soften. He was in a bathrobe and barefoot.
    Sarah said, ‘I’m from …’
    He put a finger to his lips and backed away, beckoning her to follow him. It was a nice suite, not up to the one Jack had had at the Royal Avenue, but spacious, with a king-sized bed dominating the area plus ample room for an armchair and some side tables and a credenza with a TV. The man pointed to the armchair. Sarah sat.
    Next to the chair was a small table with a bucket of ice, glasses and half a dozen assorted cans of pop. There was also a platter of tiny sandwiches, a bowl with mixed nuts and another with some nibbly-salty things. What really caught her attention, though, was the very lifelike pink plastic replica of a large gnarly cock that lay atop a box of tissues. Her sister owned one of those, though Sarah wasn’t supposed to know that. As she remembered it, when you twisted its base, it vibrated. She’d never had the chance nor the inclination to actually try it.
    Her every need had been anticipated and catered to, though the vibrator was a bit presumptuous. Still, the customer is always right, right?
    The man seemed to forget she was there. He thumbed a remote. The TV came on. Sarah was at the wrong angle to see the screen properly but the sound of rhythmic grunting, squealing and squelching told her that it had to be porn. The man dropped his robe and threw himself onto the bed, absolutely naked. He had a thick, solid body and an erect cock to match. Just as if he’d been alone, he watched the screen and stroked himself, almost idly.
    Sarah watched him. That was what she was there for, Veronica had explained, just to watch. In any case, in her whole life, Sarah had only seen three real cocks: David’s, the one that belonged to the boy she’d dated before him and Jack’s. She was curious about them and the differences between them. That was only natural, wasn’t it? This one was as long as Jack’s but quite a bit thicker. Looking at it, she couldn’t help but wonder what it’d feel like – in her hand, in her mouth, or pushing up inside her.
    The bathroom door opened. A woman, stark naked but heavily made-up, entered. She looked to be a couple of years younger than the man, tall, slender, very fit, almost no body fat, like she worked out at a gym and counted carbs. She was a freckled redhead, with her hair cut in a feathery boyish style. Her breasts were a bit smaller than Sarah’s and certainly not as pert, but still attractive, with prominent maroon nipples. Her waist was slender, with hints of taut abdominal muscles moving just below her skin. There was a ring through her navel, with a diamanté pendant. She had narrow hips with deep hollows, lean muscular flanks and long, almost thin, legs. Her shaved mound was quite plump, divided by a double crease that framed the ridge of a prominent clitoral shaft.
    It felt strange, appraising a nude woman as a requirement for an assignment. In her high school gym’s showers, girls made sure not to look as if they were sizing each other up, though they did, of course, surreptitiously.
    The woman sat on the edge of the bed, beyond the man, who was still stroking himself. ‘Playing with yourself, James?’ she asked. ‘The pretty little schoolgirl is watching you, you know.’
    ‘She wants to learn how grown-ups do it, Daphne.’
    ‘And so she shall. We’ll show her. We’ll give her a show she won’t ever forget, right?’
    Well, they’d acknowledged her presence at last. So, she wasn’t supposed to be invisible. It seemed that her role was to be that of a silent but appreciative audience. Sarah played her part by leaning forwards, elbows on knees, chin in her hands, and staring openly.
    Daphne said, ‘Let me do that for you, James.’ She arched over him, making the skin of her waist wrinkle. Her long-fingered right hand cupped his balls. He relinquished his grip on his shaft. Her hand replaced it, but delicately, just fingertips and thumb. As she stroked, she said, ‘This