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Teaching Carol, Ch. 7 Saturday afternoon, a few days later. It was pouring rain. I made my way over to Carol’s dorm and knocked on her door, then let myself into her room. She had been sitting at her computer but jumped to her feet when she saw it was me. She was wearing dark yellow sweat-clothes with the university insignia on them. And her glasses. As I closed the door behind me I noticed something different out of the corner of my eye. Her closet door was standing open and. fastened to the inside with pushpins at what would be eye-level for Carol, were the panties she had been wearing when she came to my room. They had obviously not been washed, as the yellow stain in the crotch was prominently displayed. When I turned back to Carol she was smiling timidly at me like a student who was fairly sure she’d done well on a test but not positive. I smiled back at her and said, “What a nasty little girl.” I thought that hearing that phrase again might be a turn-on for her and when I saw her close her eyes for a moment and take a sudden breath through her mouth I knew I’d been right. “Take off everything but your panties.” It didn’t take long for her to shed her clothing, especially since she’d been barefoot when I came in, and when she was done she immediately assumed what she knew to be my preferred position for her, with her hands behind her head and her feet apart. Her panties were some kind of glossy synthetic fabric in yellow-green with a lot of lace around the edges. “Don’t move.” I walked around behind her and sat down at her computer. From my knapsack I withdrew my camera and connected it to her computer. I quickly loaded in all the pictures I’d taken of her the other night. Then I programmed her computer to show them, in chronological order, slowly segueing from one to the next, as her screensaver. I watched the entire sequence once to make sure it worked, then hitched my chair out of the way Escort Şişli and said, “Turn around.” Without changing her basic position she turned so that she was facing the computer screen…just as the first image came up: the shot of her, still fully clothed but tied to my wardrobe, with my underwear over her face. Carol had seen almost all of these pictures, of course, but only briefly on the small view-screen, and while she had been highly agitated. Now she had time to fully absorb each of the images as it filled her entire computer screen, lingered for several seconds, then slowly dissolved into the next. I watched her face as the sequence progressed and noticed that almost immediately she had begun to breathe through her mouth. As she watched, I noticed her nipples begin to rise and harden, and I reached over and idly began to fondle her behind through the slick fabric of her panties. She seemed not to notice, so absorbed was she in the parade of images. After she had seen the entire sequence twice I decided it was time to move on. I rose from my chair and stood between her and the screen. “Do you have a raincoat?” I asked. She nodded and went to fetch it from the closet. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was a bright yellow slicker—with matching headpiece—such as a young girl would wear; her taste in clothing seemed to run that way. She stood in front of me, the jacket dangling from one hand and the headpiece from the other, waiting to see if they were acceptable. “Alright, put them on.” She did so, perhaps wondering if we were about to start another role-playing game as we had when she had been Miss Santiago. “Boots. Socks if you need them.” She returned to the closet and brought out a pair of shiny red calf-length rubber boots. She sat on the bed and quickly put on a pair of white knee socks, followed by the boots. Then she stood up and faced me again, waiting. She looked adorable in her Sultangazi escort rain outfit. “You can take your glasses off.” She did so, placing them on the desk. “Get your purse. Do you have any money?” She picked up a small red cloth purse from the table next to her bed and looked inside, then back at me. “Some,” she said. Twenty-three dollars and some change.” “Alright, come on.” I took her hand and headed toward the door. “Where are we going?” she asked as I pulled the door open. “Shopping.” When we reached the front door of her building I put up the umbrella I’d brought and led her to the side of the nearby road, to the place where the campus shuttle busses stopped. There was a plexiglas shelter there, which was enclosed on three sides and had a roof and a bench. We went inside. Fortunately the rain was being blown from behind the shelter and I was able to put my umbrella down. I told Carol to stand by the bench and sat down next to her. We had the shelter to ourselves. There was hardly anyone outside: a couple with umbrellas hurried down the sidewalk behind us, their figures blurred by the rain-soaked Plexiglas, and disappeared into the Student Union building. When they were gone and the immediate area was deserted I told Carol to stand with her feet apart. Then I reached one hand up under her raincoat and slowly began to lower her panties—first the left side, then the right, a little at a time—until they were stretched tightly at her knees, hanging completely exposed between the bottom of her raincoat and the tops of her boots. “Turn around and stand facing me.” She did so, moving awkwardly with her legs apart in order to hold her panties in place. “Put down your purse.” She put it on the bench next tome. “Open your coat.” She started to look around to see if anyone was nearby, but I said, “Now,” and she quickly unfastened the six buckles on her raincoat then stood waiting, arms at Taksim escort bayan her sides, her eyes on mine. “Hold it open.” At first she opened it only enough so that I could see her but then, reading my gaze, slowly extended her arms to as far as the raincoat would allow her. I reached up and began running my fingers through her pubic hair, combing it and pulling on it gently. Carol watched, fascinated, as if it were happening to someone else. After a while I allowed my hand to drift down between her legs. I began by stroking her lightly with my middle finger. Carol said nothing, but shifted her gaze to mine anxiously. When I began to feel some moisture there I slowly inserted my finger until my palm was resting against her. Carol made a soft grunting sound: “Uh!” I began massaging her there, my finger sliding in and out, the heel of my hand pressing against her clitoris. Her face began to contort, and her breathing grew shallow… …Then I heard a low rumble, and through the rain-drenched plastic I saw a large blur approaching which had to be our bus. I stopped what I was doing and told Carol that the bus was coming. She quickly pulled up her panties and fastened her coat and by the time the bus hissed to a stop and opened its door she looked like any young college student on a rainy day, except that she was still breathing a little heavily. The bus was part of the free campus service and would take us downtown. There were very few passengers, the weather being what it was that day, but I guided Carol all the way to the back. She knew why without being told, and as soon as we were settled and the bus had begun to move she reached over and began to massage the front of my pants. I allowed her to continue until we were downtown. When we had alighted I led her into the local department store. We walked through the women’s clothing department until we reached the girls’ section. I led her into an aisle with shelves of underwear on display. We had the area to ourselves. I took Carol by the shoulders and brought her face close to mine, then told her, “Nasty little girls who wet themselves aren’t allowed to wear grown-up panties.

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