But things were certainly looking up now. Little Miss Prissy, the haughty little Jenny who had looked at me with such undisguised disdain when she arrived, was putty in my hands now. I had steered her - literally, with my hand on hers - through her first sexual act, showing her how to satisfy her boyfriend. And now she was mine, I knew it. I had licked the come from her face and invited her to do the same to me, which she did, and then I had kissed her long and hard. And she melted into my arms. Mine, all mine.

Her nipples were hard through the thin fabric of her blouse, prominent through her bra and bulging attractively beneath my fingers. I rubbed the palm of my hand on her breast, feeling its delightful, slight contours, its modest rise and fall, the deliciously unformed shape of her developing breasts. Oh, I wanted a piece of those. My mouth continued to assail hers, planting wave after wave of kisses on her, my tongue probing and pressing, darting into her mouth and running across her teeth, clashing happily with her tongue. I quietly undid a couple of buttons on her blouse, acting so fast that I doubt she even noticed. I slid my hand inside, pausing for a moment on her prominent chest bone, resting until she became accustomed to the feel of somebody else's flesh on hers. She didn't quite know what to do with her own hands: I was completely undressed, and everywhere she put them she encountered naked parts of my body. Never mind, I thought, we'll soon have you unclothed as well, and you won't feel so awkward then.

After she had become used to my hand on her chest I began to investigate, slipping open another couple of buttons and sliding my hand onto her left breast. It felt even more delightful like this, my hand separated from the warm, youthful vigour of her body by only the gossamer fabric of her bra. She sighed in my ear as my touch sent shivers down her spine. I lowered my head and began to kiss at her neck, nibbling and caressing, stroking my tongue down from her ear to her breast bone. Her skin was flushed and her breathing heavy, and I knew she was turned on. I slid my fingers under the fabric of her bra and felt the hard, roughened edge of her areola and her perfect, jutting nipple. Squeezing gently, I rolled my fingers around it, feeling its pliant, vibrant texture, delighting in its touch. Pulling her blouse from her trousers and undoing the final couple of buttons, I eased it open, and the beautiful view of her bra-clad breasts and taut, trim tummy came into view. I kissed downwards, downwards, towards her breast, each motion, each kiss lavishing fevered attention on her sensitised skin.

I drew my head up and looked into her eyes. She wore an apprehensive expression, but resolute also, and I knew she would go through with it. I smiled and slipped her blouse from her shoulders, then drew her close to me in a sensuous hug, running my fingers through her short, bobbed hair, dragging my other hand up and down her spine. I felt for the clasp of her bra and quickly undid it, but didn't pull it from her just yet: I knew that I had won her, but I still had to play it slowly. Her bra was loose now, and as I looked down I could see tantalising glimpses of her areola and nipple. Deftly, I eased the bra to the side, and slid it down over her shoulder, revealing her left breast. I crooked my fingers beneath it and drew them upwards, my nails dragging gently against her hardened nipple.

I pulled her bra free from her other arm, and she sat beside me topless. Her breasts were magnficent, so small and tender, plump and fresh, with beautiful upturned nipples, dark brown and dimpled. I could look at them for hours and never tire of their simple perfection. I cupped my hand around her left breast and stroked it softly and repeatedly, while I lowered my head and dropped a fluttering kiss onto her right nipple. Sucking it into my mouth, I rolled my tongue around it, teasing and provoking it, scratching my teeth across it, tracking round and round and round her areola. Already prominent, the nipple grew under my ministrations, and although not large, it was certainly hard.

I lay her on her back, ranged across the carpet of the headmaster's office, and stretched out beside her. My mouth crossed to her other breast, planting a trail of kisses all along the way, drawing a saliva trail between my two wonderful stopping points, and I proceeded to lavish attention on her left nipple, dragging it, too, between my lips and tasting its sweet perfection. My hand, meanwhile, was traversing her stomach, fingers sketching exploratory lines on her virgin flesh, explorers searching this territory for the first time. I rolled my tongue around her breast, licking its entire form, delighting in how perky and upright it remained as she lay flat, and began to kiss downwards, towards her stomach. She was very ticklish, especially around the belly button, and she squealed energetically as I probed with my tongue, sticking it into the small indentation.

In doing so, she grabbed at my body, grasping my arms and sliding her arm against my side. This time she did not pull away, and as I continued to kiss her stomach she began to stroke me gently. That was just the encouragement I needed for part two of the operation, and I slid my hand on to the crotch of her trousers, resting my fingers on the zip.