My Student Knocked on My Door on the Last Night in Prague

I had already spent quite a few years accompanying my students on their end-of-year trips. As a second-year baccalaureate homeroom teacher, it was one of my duties, and I had to admit I liked those five days away from the classroom, the marking, and the blackboard. Accompanying a group of young people abroad was a huge responsibility, but it paid off: you formed a different bond with them, and I learned things I would never have known back at the institute.

It was the last night of the trip in Prague. The next day they would take the plane home, and that week of laughter, museums, walks across Charles Bridge, and beers drunk in secret would become yet another album of impossible-to-forget memories.

Carla was already in her single hotel room on the fourth floor. That was one of the small perks of being the accompanying teacher: you didn’t have to share a room with anyone. She had just finished the nightly round with her two colleagues to check that the students were more or less where they were supposed to be, although she knew perfectly well there would be a constant coming and going from one room to another during the night. At that age, nobody sleeps, and least of all on a trip.

She had showered quickly and put on her pajamas. In April, the temperature in Prague was cool, so hers were made of brushed cotton: a pale pink jacket and white trousers. Comfortable, not flattering at all, perfect for getting into bed with a book.

Carla was thirty-six, but more than one waiter had mistaken her that week for one of her students. She was petite, with shoulder-length chestnut hair, a rounded face, and very light green eyes that gave the boys a hard stare when she reprimanded them. Short and slim, yes, but with a firm ass that drew attention whenever she wore jeans.

She had just gotten under the sheets when someone knocked at the door. Three soft, hesitant knocks. It didn’t surprise her. Something always happened on the last night.

“Hi. Can I talk to you?”

“Of course, Nuria, come in. What’s wrong, darling?” Carla replied, letting her student in and sitting down with her on the edge of the bed.

She knew Nuria well. She had had her as a student for the last two years, and they had had many conversations, the kind that go on after the final lesson when nobody is left in the classroom. Nuria was the sort who would come in asking about an exam and end up telling you her mother had not spoken to her father in six months, or that she didn’t know whether to apply for Law or Literature. Carla knew things about her life that probably not even her closest friends knew. That was why she also knew she had been seeing Iván for a few months, a boy from the same group whom Carla had never really warmed to.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked when she saw the girl’s red-rimmed eyes.

Nuria had always especially liked her. She liked those brown eyes that always seemed to carry a trace of sadness, and she liked that long, wavy hair that fell almost to her waist. She liked that Nuria was quite a bit taller than her, and that slender figure that could be made out beneath the white camisole nightdress she had come down to the corridor in.

“It’s Iván. He lied to me,” Nuria answered through hiccups.

“Tell me what happened, my love,” Carla encouraged her, stroking her hair.

“I just caught him… in his room… making out with Marta,” Nuria explained in broken bursts. “He was supposed to be with me tonight, like the others. I went in without knocking and… there they were. I told him exactly what I thought and he laughed. Said it was no big deal, that it didn’t mean anything. I left and… I didn’t want to go back to my room alone, because Sara is there too and I didn’t feel like explaining anything to her.”

“Oh, darling. I’m so sorry, really,” Carla murmured, hugging her against her chest.

“It’s just that it isn’t even the first time. And I’ve always forgiven him. I’ve been an idiot.”

“Nuria, boys at that age are like that. And at other ages too, just so you know. But this time think it through carefully, think about whether you want to keep being with someone who treats you like that.”

“No. This is the last time he ever does anything to me,” she said with a rage that surprised them both.

“Good. Then you can stay here with me as long as you need, until you feel better. Nobody needs to know.”

Nuria was still leaning against Carla’s chest, and Carla was slowly stroking her hair. It was soft, freshly washed, and smelled of sweet fruit. Apricot, Carla thought. Or peach.

“You washed your hair,” she said, almost just to say something.

“Yeah. That way in the morning I save time and can sleep a little longer.”

“It smells really good. And it’s beautiful. I like touching it.”

“Thank you,” Nuria smiled shyly.

And that was when Carla did something she had not planned, something she had not even dared to think about for months. She lifted her chin with two fingers, looked into those still-wet brown eyes, wiped away the last tear with her thumb, and kissed her on the lips. A soft, slow kiss, almost asking permission.

“Let me make this night, the one you were going to spend with him, different. Let me show you what you could feel. I want you to stop crying, my girl. But only if you want to.”

Nuria stayed still. She looked at her wide-eyed, not knowing what to say. But she had heard the sweetness in her voice, she had felt the softness of those small hands, and above all, she had felt that kiss. And she knew she had liked it more than any kiss Iván had ever given her.

“Yes, Carla,” she whispered.

They hugged and started kissing again. First slowly, bringing their lips together to taste them without haste. Careful kisses that explored the other woman’s mouth. Then they began using their tongues: the tips brushed, recognized each other, entered one another’s mouths and came back out. They nibbled at each other’s lips. The kisses grew longer, deeper, hungrier.

“You kiss very well, my girl,” Carla whispered. She could already feel herself getting wet between her legs under her pajama trousers.

“I like kissing,” Nuria panted with her eyes closed. “But boys always want to get it over with right away. To move on to something else.”

“Nobody’s in a hurry here.”

They kept at it for a while, until Carla pulled back a few centimeters and, tugging the nightdress upward, slipped it off over her head. Nuria wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts were left bare. Carla looked at them for a moment without touching them.

“They’re beautiful,” she said softly.

They were large, firm, with light brown areolas and nipples that were still calm for the moment. She ran her palms over them without squeezing, then used her fingers to draw slow circles around the nipples. Nuria started breathing more deeply and let herself fall back onto the bed.

Carla leaned over her and began to use her tongue. She ran the tip over the areolas, slowly, and felt the nipples hardening under her mouth just from that. She took them into her mouth and sucked them, let them go to blow a little air over them, then sucked them again. Nuria moaned softly and dug her fingers into Carla’s hair. When the nipples were fully erect, Carla pinched them between her fingers while biting her neck. Nuria let out a small cry.

“Shh, girl, we’re in a hotel,” she whispered, laughing.

Still bent over her, Carla began to move lower with her tongue. She licked her sternum, ran the tip over her navel, brushed her flat stomach with her lips. Her hands kept caressing her sides, her hips, her thighs over the fabric of the trousers.

When she reached the pajama trousers, she carefully pulled at the waistband and slipped them off her feet. Nuria was left in panties. Pink cotton panties, simple, almost childish, which at that moment Carla thought were the most exciting thing she had ever seen in her life. Before taking them off, she ran her palm over the fabric: she felt the hard mound of her pubic area, and lower down, the dampness that had already soaked through the material.

She slid her fingers into the elastic and pulled them down slowly. She saw the triangle of dark hair, trimmed but not fully shaved. She straightened up for a moment and took her own pajamas off too. The top first, then the trousers, then her panties. She stood beside the bed, completely naked.

“Look at me, Nuria. Look at your teacher.”

Nuria obeyed. Carla’s body had hardly any breasts: two small apples, almost without areola, with dark, pointed nipples. The smooth belly, the firm thighs, a small line of hair above her sex. It was a toned body, not a gram of fat on it.

“We’re very different. But we have the same thing to give pleasure. Do you like me?”

“Yes,” Nuria answered in barely a whisper.

She had seen women’s bodies all her life: in the school changing rooms, on the beach, with her friends. But none of them had done this to her. What excited her was knowing what was about to happen next, knowing she was going to touch that body, taste it, eat a cunt for the first time in her life. And that it would be Carla’s, her teacher’s.

***

Carla knelt on the floor and asked Nuria to move closer to the edge of the mattress and open her legs. The girl obeyed. She had a symmetrical vulva, with the small lips tucked inside the larger ones, the hair trimmed, and the entrance shining from how wet she was. Carla opened her lips with two fingers and looked for a second. She ran her tongue slowly from bottom to top, gathering the moisture. Nuria jolted and closed her eyes.

She started from below, almost at the anus, which tightened on its own at the feel of the tongue nearby. She played there for a moment without actually penetrating it, moved up over the perineum, licked the entire vulva, slipped her tongue into the vagina and stayed there for a while drinking. It tasted good. Different from what she had imagined, softer, sweeter. At last she moved up to the clitoris, already out from under the hood, swollen and red, and when she touched it with the tip of her tongue, Nuria arched her whole body.

“Iván didn’t do it like this, did he?” Carla murmured, pausing for a second.

“No,” Nuria panted. “He was very fast. And sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even like it. What you’re doing to me is… ah…”

“I’m going to be a little mean. You’re not going to come yet. First I want you to do it to me. Do you know what it means to eat a cunt?”

“Only by hearsay.”

“So this is your first time.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry. You’re a woman; you know better than anyone where you need to touch. It’s exactly the same as touching yourself, only with your mouth.”

She climbed onto the bed and carefully positioned herself over her student’s mouth, resting her knees on either side of her face. Nuria saw a small vulva, perfectly shaved, completely soaked. She stuck out her tongue and began to lick it awkwardly at first, not quite sure where to start. Carla guided her with a movement of her hips. Soon Nuria found the clitoris — bigger than she had expected — and began to suck it, give it little licks, circle it with the tip of her tongue.

“That’s it, my girl, like that. Don’t stop. You’re doing perfectly,” Carla panted.

“Touch my tits, grab them.”

Nuria lifted her hands and took hold of them. They fit entirely in her palms. She squeezed them, kneaded them, pinched the small hard nipples while still eating her sex. Carla moved more and more, stopped talking, panted harder, grabbed her head so she wouldn’t pull away.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m coming, I’m coooooming…”

A stream of hot, clear fluid filled Nuria’s mouth, and she swallowed it almost without thinking. Carla stayed still for a moment above her, trembling, then let herself fall to the side and gave her a long kiss with tongue, still tasting herself between the two of them.

“Sweetheart, that was incredible. But you still haven’t come, and I don’t want you to be left like that.”

Nuria was still blazing, tingling all over, with her cunt so wet the sheets were soaked beneath her. Carla positioned herself between her legs again and gave her a couple more licks, just to bring her back.

“You’ve had cocks inside you. I want you to come with something that penetrates you. And that something is going to be my fingers.”

She put her hand at the entrance and slipped in one finger, which went in without resistance. Then the second. Then the third. Nuria felt them inside her: they weren’t like Iván, but they filled her differently, more precisely, more controlled. Carla began to move them, first slowly, then faster. She curled her fingers inward, searching for a specific spot. When she found it, Nuria let out a scream that both of them knew could be heard in the hallway.

“Shhh, sweetheart. We don’t want them to find us out.”

But there was no stopping now. Nuria bit her hand to keep from crying out, dug her nails into her thigh with the other, twisted on the bed while Carla kept moving her hand faster and faster. Fluids splashed, wetting her forearm, running down her elbow. Carla knew where that spot was. She had found it in others and in herself many times. When Nuria started trembling all over from the feet upward, she knew she was close.

“Now, nowww…”

Three spurts shot out of her cunt, soaking Carla’s hand, splashing her chest. Nuria stayed still, breath coming in broken gasps, staring at the ceiling without seeing it.

Carla lay down beside her, hugged her, gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, and stroked her hair, now stuck to her temples with sweat.

“That was your first time with a woman, darling. I don’t know if you’ll have more. But I hope you never forget this one. And that for one night I made you forget that idiot.”

“Carla, I had never done anything with a woman. And I don’t know if I’ll do it with any others. But with you I’d do it again tomorrow. You’ve been the most beautiful thing that’s happened to me on this trip. This course. This year.”

They stayed like that, holding each other, in silence, hearing from far away the noise of other rooms where other things were happening. And they fell asleep until the phone alarm rang at seven.