Jamal and Orla Ch. 03

Chapter 03: French Lessons

Sunday Freeman, the old preacher at the Church of Love and Equality had invited Jamal, his granddaughter's friend into the Church's dining hall. He smiled warmly as he swung open a big wooden arched door into a room with a long, sturdy looking, wooden table, laden with food, although most of it had been eaten. The preacher book two plates from a side table and handed one to Jamal.

"Eat as much or as little as you like, Jamal." He made the same sweeping motion, then in a stage whisper, he said "There's a bit more than usual, so more would be better."

Jamal took full advantage of the invitation, piling his plate with roast potatoes, chicken, carrots, even pouring himself a glass of wine, although he'd never normally drink the stuff. The two sat down to eat, chatting about basketball, cars, women. The old man was surprisingly good company, they were getting on like a house on fire.

Jamal was having a great time, except for the constant interruptions. A constant stream of people came in to the dining hall. Each time, the old priest would introduce them. "This is Jamal," he'd say, "he's not part of our congregation, he's a friend of Orla's." That didn't bother Jamal, but the look of disappointment that some of them showed at "not part of our congregation," was real irritating.

The next guy who give me that look's losing teeth, he thought. But none of the guys ever did. He soon realised that most of the interruptions came from women, and most of them were white! At one point the old priest got up and left the room with two of them, blabbering about some sacrament. They all looked kinda close too.

About 10 mins later, the priest came back with one of the ladies. She looked a bit out of breath, and her hair was not as tidy as before. Jamal also noticed some damp spots on her dress. Holy water, he guessed. Jamal offered her a cake from the table.

"No, thanks. I just had a chocolate eclaire. I love the creamy center!" She smiled, and Jamal noticed that she still had a little cream at the sides of her mouth.

"You saving some for later?" Jamal joked. She looked over at Sunday, smiling, and licked her lips.

"Mmm, I think there's more where that came from!" She answered. She turned back to Jamal, wicked grin painted on her face, "I promised Orla that I wouldn't try to talk you into joining the church, but perhaps you'd like to make a donation?" She placed a strange emphasis on the last word. Jamal let it pass, saying,

"You're asking the wrong guy, sweetheart. I'm as broke as the welfare system!"

"Leave our guest alone, Arlene," reprimanded the preacher, "he's already done us a service today."

"So she's all right? Orla, I mean. You spoke to her, right?" Jamal asked Arlene.

"No concussion, but she's got a great big lump on her head. Think we'll call her Buggs Bunny." She laughed. Jamal didn't think it was funny, but she cut off any angry response, "I'm a nurse at the A&E, so I know what I'm looking at, and she'll be just fine, Jamal. This church looks after its own, so don't worry." She smiled reassuringly, and put a hand on his shoulder.

Another woman walked into the hall, and Jamal thought she was familiar. She looked beautiful, glamorous. She wore an elegant black dress, and was made up like a superstar. She gave a smouldering look to the priest. Looked about to speak, when she spotted Jamal. Her eyes flashed, and a look of shock replaced her honeydew expression.

"Jamal!" She wailed, in a thick, French accent, "I didn't know zat you were a part of ze-" Jamal cut her off,

"Not one of the congregation, miss...?"

"Jamal, you know me, Je suis votre professeur de français, Madame L'Oréal!" Jamal's eyes widened.

"M-Madame L'Oréal, umm, what, umm, who, umm," Jamal stammered, "ah, I didn't, umm, recognise you. You look beautiful!" He paused, "not, not that you don't always-"

"That is ok, Jamal." She beamed. "Merci, I accept ze compliment. But what are you doing 'ere?"

"My granddaughter had an accident," Sunday piped up. "He brought her home to us."

"She bumped her head, but the nurse here says she's ok." Jamal explained.

"Madame L'Oreal, poor Jamal here is quite a way from home." Sunday made it sound like the next state, "I'd take it as a personal favour if you'd give him a ride home. It seems you know the boy after all."

"Ah, oui," she answered, "indeed if you are ready, we can depart anytime."

"Sure thing, uh, Madame, but I'd like to see Orla first, if you don't mind." The priest smiled.

"Of course, you must be worried. Arlene, can you ask her to meet our guest at the door?" The nurse nodded and left. Sunday continued to speak. "You're always welcome here, Jamal, even if you still want to be an atheist. Come back anytime."

Madame L'Oreal and Jamal left, and Orla was waiting by the door. She gave Jamal a hug, feet lifting off of the floor, and kissed him passionately.

"Thanks, Snake, I'll see you in school, ok?"

"Sure. You sure you're all right?"

"Nothing the nurse can fix, right?"

"Right. See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Jamal and Madame L'Oreal left in the teacher's little sports car. Jamal was impressed, he thought she was stuffy and boring, but outside of school she was glamorous and drove a sports car!

"This is a nice car, Madame. You're like a different person out of school, aren't you?"

"I do my work, and I have my personal life. I do enjoy ze teaching, but I do my best not to bring it 'ome." She smiled, "you like the car?"

"Yeah! European, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Français. Small and fast. We can take 'er onto the 'ighway, if you like?"

"For real? I'd love it!"

"Let me take off these 'eels."

They pulled over, both wearing wicked grins and the teacher turned in her seat putting her feet into Jamal's lap.

"If you please, the buckles." She pointed to the small buckles on her long heels. While Jamal took her first shoe off, she rolled her skirt up, bearing her legs to him.

"Throw zem in ze back," she told him, one bare foot in his lap. She was still grinning like an excited schoolgirl. Her now bare foot moved slowly down his leg, although he didn't really notice.

Madame L'Oreal wasn't ignorant to the rumours, she was aware of Jamal's nickname, and just like Orla, she was curious. She hadn't been looking for the chance, but now that she was here, she decided to try and find out.

Her bare foot had found... something. As she ran it down the length, she decided that it couldn't be his "snake". It was just too big!

Disappointed, she turned back around and, with her elegant dress pulled up past her knees, drove off to the highway.

When they hit the highway, she turned to Jamal, eyes alight with excitement.

"I know a place where we can do some real driving! Just a few miles from 'ere. Are you in a 'urry?"

"No, Madame, my mom will be out till late, so I don't have to rush at all!"

"Oui, but out of school, je m'appelle Virginie." She hit the gas before Jamal could respond, throwing him back into his seat. Eyes on the road, she shifted up through the gears, never taking her hand from the stick until she was in top gear. Jamal watched the needle climb past 60, past 80, past 100. This little thing could really fly! 140, and she lifted off.

"You look a little pale, Jamal. You sure you can 'andle zis?" She grinned, taking an off ramp a little too fast.

"I'm just fine, Virginie," Jamal said coolly, "this baby can shift!"

"It's not all about power, like your American 'ot rods." She flashed an evil grin at him. "Now zat we are 'ere, we can 'ave some fun!"

She pulled the emergency brake and swung the rear end out, speeding away along a winding rural road. Concentrating intensely on the road, she took great delight in rounding bends flat out, almost grazing walls at the side of the road, and momentarily taking to the air as she crested a hill. Jamal was terrified, but he was loving it!

"Zis is the way a car should drive, non?" She shouted over the engine. "Maybe we stop for a bit." She pulled another e-brake turn, this time through a tight entrance into a field. A little further in she pulled some donuts, before skidding to a stop next to some trees.

"Shiiiit, teach. That was some driving right there! I mean that was the scariest thing I ever did but, man, that was FUN!"

"You like, oui? I come out 'ere any time I can. It is my favourite thing, to drive fast. It always gets me wet." She wiped her hands on her naked legs.

"Im not surprised you sweat when you drive like that, I know I am!" She gazed hungrily at his young body.

"Non, Jamal. Not sweat. Wet. I want to fuck. Right now." She wasn't wiping her hands at all, she was pushing her skirt further up. It was at her waist now, and Jamal could see her trimmed bush of short, dark, curly hair.

The teacher parted her legs slightly and ran a finger along the slit in her labia, moaning gently. She offered the finger to Jamal.

"'Ow would you like to taste a French girl's chatte, Jamal?" She growled.

Jamal was pretty shocked by this turn of events. He had never thought of the French teacher as sexy until he saw her in the church. But he was no fool, here she was offering him her pussy, and he was damn sure going to take it! He took the finger into his mouth and sucked, the sweet nectar making his blood flow.

"Mmmm," she moaned, "good." She unhooked both seatbelts and took her dress off over her head, throwing it into the back. Jamal could only stare at her naked body, no underwear at all. A small, firm pair of tits, with big, protruding nipples which seemed to point to the sky. Her body was taught, not muscled, but well looked after, and her skin was beautiful, clear, milky white.

"You like? Bon. Come." She breathed the last word so that Jamal almost came right there! He was about to climb on top of her, when she opened the car door and got out. He quickly scrambled out too. Finding her sitting on the hood facing out. Her legs were spread wide and her fingers probing gently into her 'chatte'.

"Come, Jamal, I want you 'ere," she urged, "I want you to bouffé ma foufoune, to eat my cunt."

Jamal didn't need to be asked twice. He came around to the front of the car and planted his feet. He took a wide stance so that he could get lower down, he thought about kneeling, but knew that his cock was too hard to let him bend his knees. It felt like it was going to rip through his pants!

He bent his waist, which helped to reduce the pain caused by his cock straining to point straight up. His face first met a beautiful milk white thigh, waxed smooth. His tongue flickerd out, raising a gasp of delight from his French teacher. He turned his head to the other thigh, this time running his tongue slowly up the inside of her creamy, smooth thigh, until he could feel the warmth of her wet slot.

He turned to face it, breathing in it's intoxicating scent. Madame L'Oreal placed her fingers delicately on her labia, softly parting them so that Jamal could see the pink interior. He breathed her in, about to make a delicate flick of his tongue on her clit, when she grabbed his head with her free hand and roughly pulled his face onto her wet, warm pussy.

"Fuck, Jamal, eat it, bury your face in me," she screamed, "I want to come on your face!" She wrapped her legs around his head and ground her dark bush into his nose as he began to flick his tongue over her distended clit. She began to squeeze her firm tits as Jamal lifted her ass off of the car and began probing her depths with his tongue. her grip on his head only got stronger, and she started to buck, fucking his tongue with delight.

"That's it," she cheered, "bouffé ma foufoune, oooh, ma chatte, elle t'aimee. Oooh, suck it Jamal, ah oui!" Her back arched, she grabbed his hair and squeezed his head with her legs, so close to cumming she had stopped shouting at him. Jamal sucked her clitoris softly into his mouth, flicking his toungue over it quickly.

She went WILD! She screamed her lungs out and bucked heavily against the hood, Jamal's head still trapped in her vice grip legs. He kept up the assualt on her clit, even as he felt the gush of her cum run over his face. He lapped it up like it was his favourite dessert, and when she started to slow down, he sucked her clit into his mouth again. This time when his tongue hit it, she shouted in a much lower tone.

"MEEEEERDE! PUUTAAIIN! JE JOOOURIIIIS!"

By now, Jamal's head was getting pretty sore. Madame L'Oreal had a tight grip, and when she came, it only got tighter. She was still bucking and screaming, though when Jamal slipped two thick fingers deep into her spasming cunt.

"MEEEERRRRDE DE PUUUTAAAIIIN, JAAAMMAAAALL," she growled, grinding onto his hand, her juices running once more as she came for the third time on the hood of her french sports car.

She loosened her grip, panting. Her milky white skin was glistening in the moonlight, beads of sweat clung to her pointed nipples.

"No- no more, Jamal," she panted, lifting his head, "I cannot take it." She looked lovingly into his eyes, leaned forward and kissed him passionately. Her tongue invaded his mouth, eager to taste the cum she had produced.

Still dazed, Jamal barely noticed the sirens. Virginie slipped forward, hand rubbing at his crotch. She grasped at his waistband, tugging it downwards. She had almost got it when she realised what she was hearing.

"Putain!" she swore, "Jamal, we must go, quickly!" She ran around to the car door. Jamal hadn't moved. "Jamal! Move, the police are coming! We cannot be found!" At last, Jamal came to his senses, realising that he had been hearing sirens for a while, he ran to the door and got straight in. As soon as he sat down, she started driving. Before Jamal could buckle up, she was out of the field and on the road, moving faster than she had been before, and still coming achingly close to every bend on the road. Left turn, right turn, right again, adrenaline pumping, trees flashed by the windows, and the pace only quickened. Jamal watched in terror as she pulled the emergency brake and swung right at a junction. Thank God, he thought, that the streets are quiet!

They flew past a gas station, and swerved onto another rural road, where again she raced through the winding curves like they were on the highway. Jamal risked a look at their speed as they took a right hander. Just a touch under 100, on a curve! She was CRAZY!

Then he noticed something else. She was naked! She'd been in such a hurry to get away from the police that she hadn't bothered to dress! Her smooth, creamy skin, still glistening with sweat, contrasted by her dark, curly bush, trimmed short and shaped to a perfect triangle. Her heaving breasts, not big, but firm. They looked like they were held up by her nipples, curving upward until the red, pointed jewels in a milky white sea, where they suddenly curved, round and delicate.

"Jamal," she breathed, "Zat was exciting, non? I sink we 'ave lost zem now." Jamal noticed now that she had slowed the pace, and was heading back to the highway.

"Wow, Madame, umm, Virginie, just wow! You are CRAZY! I saw you take a curve at one hundred miles per hour back then! Those cops had no chance!"

"You OK, Jamal, you 'ad a bit of a moment back there, non?"

"I'm OK," he smiled, "I was just a bit dazed, you know? You had a pretty tight grip back there!"

"Vraiment, I do not sink zat I 'ave ever cum so 'ard! You know what zey call you in school, Jamal? The snake. Is it true, Jamal? Do you have ze huge bite?"

"A big bit, huh? Heh, I guess it's a 'bit' bigger than most." He smiled, cockily. " I know I'm the biggest guy on the team, at least."

"You must show it to me, Jamal. I want to see if it is true!" One of her hands strayed from the wheel. She adjusted her position and started to play with her naked pussy. They passed a sign pointing back to town.

"You do realise you're naked, driving into town, right?"

"Oui, Jamal, does it make you 'ot?" The teacher was smouldering.

"Shiiit, I've been hard since we left the field! You're so hot you could melt steel!"

"Oh, you poor boy, we must make sure you get some release, non? But it is late, your mother will be 'ome, non?" Her fingers continued to probe as she drove through the town.

"Shit, you're right, I better get home!" he had lost track of time, his mom would worry if he didn't get back soon.

"Oui, I must agree. I should take you 'ome. First, though, I 'ave to see. You will show me, non?" He took the hand from her pussy and placed it on his crotch, allowing her to feel his hardness. Slowly, he slid her hand down it's length until she couldn't reach any further with one hand still on the wheel. He let go of her hand, and she started to stroke it gently through his pants. He leaned over and placed his hand between her legs, his fingers began to touch her pussy as he whispered into her ear.

"You don't need to see it to believe, Madame."

She turned into his street, almost hitting a parked car, his fingers delving deep into her. Each touch of her clitoris brought fresh waves of pleasure, and as she stopped outside of his door, she came again. Her pussy tightened around his thick fingers, her juices ran out onto her seat, but she managed to stay quiet.

Jamal slipped out of the car and went into the house before she could say another word.