Teaching Jeannie Right, Part 1

by Vickylez

This story was inspired by some remarks by a girlfriend of mine. Her little daughter had made some disturbing questions and revelations to her, she told me. So far the story is quite true. But from Part 2 on, things happen that are all fantasy, just my imagination working. I was so aroused by what she told me! I suspect my friend would be very much aroused by this fantasy, too, and I wish she is a Leslita reader (I don't know that) and stumbles on this story. Who knows, maybe she will be inspired to act on it and even I... sigh!

"Mommy," said the little girl suddenly, over her milk and cereals. "What's a les-bian?"

Carol sputtered on her coffee, she wasn't sure to have heard right.

"W-hat, dear?"

"What is a les-bian, Mom?" repeated the eight year old, her beautiful eyes steady on her mom's face.

"Weell... What makes you ask me that, now?"

"Gee, Mom," she said accusingly, pointing to her mother, "you tell me ever not to answer people with another question!"

"Yes, you're right. Well, baby. They call 'lesbians' women that love very much other women. And it's a beautiful thing. Now," she added somewhat shakily, "you tell me why you want to know that."

"Gosh... But I love you very much, and you're a woman. I am a les-bian?"

"Oh, no, baby!" she gushed "That's different, you are my baby and I am your mother, of course we love each other very very much!"

"Very-very-very much!" giggled the little girl, hugging her mother. Then she got serious again. "But... If you was not my mom, was some other woman I mean, and I love you very-very much..."

"Dear, there are many different types of love. You can love some woman a lot without..."

"I mean love-love, Mom! Like people in the movies, with kissing and stuff, only is two women! Is that a les-bian?"

"Carol sighed, quite shaken now."

"It depends, it... Well, yes, I suppose that could be 'lesbian'. And now, young lady, you will definitely tell me what it's all about."

"Then... Miss Hannah, my teacher, is a les-bian, I guess."

Gulp!! Steady, now...

"And, what makes you say that, baby?"

"I saw her, kissing and stuff, you know, with Miss McReady from second grade." said the little girl simply, and attacked conscientiously her cereals. Carol stood stock-still, working hard not to say or do nothing, steady, steady, breathing slowly. Later, nonchalantly (she hoped).

"And when was that, Jen?"

Her voice must have had something, though, for the little girl stared at her for a second, then shrugged

"Yestiddy."

Tell me, tell everything, for God's sake!

"Oh... Care to tell me more, baby?" Jeannie lowered her spoon and sighed, Oh, those moms!

"Well, over the second recess Priscilla 'n me went to pee, see, and toilet was closed for repairs or sumpting so we went back of the school where is all those tall bushes 'n trees, to pee, you know, and we heard something, gave us a scare, we're not supposed to go there, 'n we peeped very carefully 'n there behind the biggest bushes they were, Miss Hanna and McReady, kissing and very close, just like DiCaprio 'n Rose in 'Titanic' we saw last week."

"Ooh..." she couldn't avoid making it almost a moan. "And then?"

"Weell, they were so... so... I don't know, they didn't notice nothing else, so we stared 'n they kissed and kissed, and they touched their... mmh," she signaled her flat chest.

"Their breasts?"

"Yeah," giggled the little girl. "They touched and pressed I thought they would ache from it, but they looked very happy, McReady even put her mouth to Miss Hannah's... breasts, over her blouse."

"Good God, girl!" couldn't avoid gasping the mother. She was flushed and squirmy. "And?"

"An' McReady kind of tried to put her hand inside of Miss Hanna's skirt but she couldn't very well I guess, so Miss Hanna raised her skirts for her, an' we sort of got scared they'll notice us and went away. They didn't, I guess. Notice, I mean. So that's why I ask, they are les-bians, are they, Mom?"

"It... It certainly seems so," said Carol, trying to control her painful breathing. "But, Jen, where did you hear that word, lesbian?"

"Ooow, Mom! But the girls at school are always saying that! They say this Mexican girl in fifth is one, and pretty Julie in eighth, an' this redhead Martha Wilmer in sixth is sooo les-bian they say, lots of girls at school, they say, even Priscilla but it's not true, she has never kissed me! So, you think my teacher is in love-love with McReady? I don't like her, the McReady, she doesn't smile much, I'm glad she isn't my teach... But she looked very happy when, you know, when kissing Miss Hanna."

A horn blared outside making Carol start. Thank, thank God! and the little girl rushed to get her things, gave a moist kiss on her mom's cheek and ran out to get the school bus. She saw out her daughter climbing safely to the bus, waved goodbye, and got inside the house with trembling limbs.

"OH-MY-GOD!!" she almost screamed, closing the door and rushing in. Teacher Hanna, beautiful delicious young teacher Hanna with her luscious lips, a lesbian - lesbian lover to that gorgeous, wonderfully titted, amazonesque McReady? Oh God, OH GOD! She flopped backwards on her sofa, legs extended, as she teared open her housecoat, her ample, firm breasts swaying free, oooh, and look at those red pebble-hard lust-crazed nipples! She urgently pulled down her almost dripping, amazingly soaked panties and threw them aside - before the lacy garment touched ground both her hands were at her open, torrid, gushing, pussy. Carol screamed out with lust, Yes, YES! as her fingers sank deep inside her avid engorged petals. She squirmed wildly as her beautiful legs opened at their maximum, her pelvis shaking, her open mouth gasping in lustful pleasure. Blurry lewd images of the sexy young teacher, of the other one's wonderful tits, of little lesbian preteen schoolgirls with parted legs... A shrill, long and whinny sound of pure delight escaped her lips as she came, the best in a long time... She had always been a noisy comer.

With shaking limbs and flustered mind, she had to rush to get ready for work. She was a minor executive at a Bank, and she hoped the demands of her job would take her mind out of those things.

"You are an oversexed bitch, you always been," she mumbled severely at her reflection as she finished her make-up. You lustful, stupid girl, when will you get settled? - When I'm a mummified old woman.

At 28, Carol was a very pretty woman. Not your beauty queen, rather a nice, firm, well-turned country girl with the enticing curves, big flashing eyes and long chestnut hair of her Italian grandmother. Eight years before she had got pregnant by an indifferent boyfriend of less than a week who promptly disappeared for good, and whom she could hardly remember now. She didn't care, she had never regretted getting her Jeannie, whom she adored, and got on quite well without anybody else. She had never dated after Jeannie's birth, never had get attracted to any one of the many males that often tried to score with her, and never longed for a man's companionship.

For Carol was - as she well knew since she was fifteen years old - a lesbian. A certified, definitive, honest-to-God, no-doubt-in-her-mind lesbian. At her tender fifteens she had had the love affair of her life - with a female teacher at school, if you want to know. After several months of pure bliss the older woman suddenly had to transfer to another city (so she said), got away and she never saw her again - and never forgot her. For a while after that, having the occasional boyfriend was just the thing to do to avoid any whisperings about her and also to try to 'get normal' – she didn't at the time see her sapphic leanings as acceptable at all. But it never worked: women got her crazy, she adored the very thought of the female, while men didn't make a stir in her, and that was that.

And, what was her biggest secret, even bigger than being a closet lesbo? That after her first female lover at fifteen she had never actually had another affair with a woman! Practically a lesbo-virgin, she used to say to herself. A mixture of fear of being labelled, insecurity, ancient moral qualms, a sense of responsibility to her little daughter, whatever, but she absolutely avoided getting involved with anybody, and therefore she was one (hot, oversexed, lustful, enthusiastic)... just-fantasy-lesbian. She didn't even have any close non-sexual girlfriend. But she was forever lusting after females, and how: neighbours, acquaintances, some special girls at her working place, women seen at the mall, girls in magazines or the movies, even schoolgirls at her daughter's school (her most hidden illusion), but everything stopped just at fantasy level. And such wild imaginings!... Poor Carol was a pro in fantasy-world, but a shy (almost) untouched creature in real life.

After an uneasy day at work, as they saw a little TV before going to bed that night, she nonchalantly asked her little daughter what else about her teacher, but Jen hadn't any more to offer. And those little girls she mentioned, this, ah, Mexican girl in fifth, and pretty Julie in eight, and redheaded Martha Wilmer in sixth, (she couldn't get them out of her lustful head), why they say they are lesbians, baby? She didn't know for real, they just said that, and Miss Blonderg, the Gym teacher, is too. (In fact, Carol had been sure of that one since first laying eyes on the woman at school meetings, the athletic Blonderg had something definitely lez about her). As they cuddled together, the little girl had her hand on her mom's thigh over the thin housecoat and Carol's arm was around her daughter's tender body, her hand lightly on her thigh too. Nothing different to any other night, but Jeannie's revelations that morning and the current conversation made quite a difference to Carol. She was hot, flustered, and the innocent feel of her little daughter's body was giving her pleasurable sensations that made her head whirl – and awakened all kind of alarms in her, too. But whatever, she couldn't leave the topic at rest.

Had little Jeannie ever seen something, you know, like love-love, among some girls at school? Well, yeah, giggled the eight years old, she 'n Priscilla had seen once her schoolmate Paula and an older girl kissing at the toilets when they thought nobody was looking, 'n another time this girl from sixth with long blonde tresses that was from Canada and this Penny who was her benchmate had been touching each other under her skirts at the toilets too, but that was last year and she (Jeannie) didn't know about les-bians at the time and didn't think much of it.

"And, baby, tell me the truth... has anybody ever touched or kissed you like that?"

"Weeell... Noo, but once when Priscilla, me and other girls were dressing after gym, Nicky and Linda - you know 'em, Mama, they were over at my birthday party - started fooling, touching each other down there a bit, only fooling, 'n Linda wanted to feel me too, but I didn't want. Other time Nicky too told me touching yourself down there was fun, but didn't try to do it to me."

"And, baby... Have you ever touched yourself like Nicky said?" the mother asked somewhat shakily, staring unseeing at the TV. Jeannie stared at her mom.

"Sometimes. But I don't know why they do it, Mom, I don't think is fun, I didn't feel nothing special." She then laughed at something Homer Simpson said and concentrated on the TV while Carol bit her lip, her breath racing, picturing in her mind her lovely little girl's hand... Suddenly her heart leaped, Jeannie had leaned over her, her little hand pressing high on her thigh, asking

"And you, Mom? Do you touch yourself, you know, down there? Priscilla says she has seen her mom doing it, but I think she is making it up, she's so silly sometimes! Adult women don't do that, Mom?"

Oh, God, yes! she screamed in her mind. She breathed deeply – and crossed a line.

"They do it too, baby... Most women, most people, do it. It is called masturbation, and it is fun, sometimes."

"Oooh, I know the word! they said it at Sex Ed, but I didn't know it was that..." she stared wide eyed at her mother. "But, then you do it? And it is fun? And why I don't feel anything? Maybe I don't do it right? Mom..." she hesitated and Carol's mind anticipated what was coming, silently screaming Don't ask me, please don't ask me that!

"Mom, can you please, pretty please show me and teach me how to do it right?"

Later that night, Carol couldn't sleep. She had refused her daughter. She felt guilty - guilty of not teaching her eight-years-old little girl to masturbate! It was crazy, she was so confused. But she was certain she had done the right thing: if she had gone on with it she wouldn't have been able to stop, she knew that. She would have done with Jeannie things that she absolutely couldn't, shouldn't, that in no way she would do – things she desired to do to her little daughter, most than anything in the world! ...She sobbed herself to sleep.

Very early she was awake. No way, no way. But, that Hanna teacher, though... That's quite another thing!

And for the first time, she smiled.