My Day At The Museum, Chapter One

by Jeneee

(This story is complete fiction, but was inspired by an actual event I witnessed while on a museum visit which fired up my active imagination. I hope it does the same to yours. I originally thought the story consist of only one chapter, but now it looks like there will be a second.)

She was a joy to behold — just waiting to be held. I quite literally found myself holding my breath as I watched her. No more than fifty feet away from me, she was oblivious to my presence. In fact she seemed oblivious to everything around her, so absorbed was she in what she was doing. I could not take my eyes off of her.

But let me back up a little.

The headmistress of the school I teach at had asked me to investigate the possibility of taking several of our junior classes on a visit to our local science museum. She was tentatively considering early July as a possible date but wanted me to check out the appropriateness of the exhibits there for our young students, just to make sure their attention would be held for the three hour tour she envisioned, and also that it would be a worthwhile learning experience for the children. Apparently, several of our parents had been complaining that we didn’t expose their little darlings as much as they would like to the various galleries and museums available in the fairly large city which I have called home since I started teaching.

“Too busy with their own activities to take their kids out themselves on weekends, I suppose,” Headmistress grumbled to me in her office to which I had been called on what she referred to as an urgent matter as she landed me with the project. Not that I minded, of course. It would be a pleasure to get our young girls out of the classroom for a change and show them a little of the attractions offered in our metropolis. Besides, I would enjoy getting away from the classroom for a bit myself. Especially if I were escorting the young sweethearts I taught English to around the science museum, which I had heard boasted a number of hands-on exhibits.

And a ‘hands-on’ exhibit was what I couldn’t tear my eyes away from at that very moment. Patience, dear reader, I promise I’ll get to it shortly. Aren’t I the tease? Giggle.

The students for whom I was responsible were in the six to eight years of age bracket, full of giggles, too, and cute little screeches when they were exposed to something exciting for the first time. Like the day we invited a magician into the school to delight their imaginations with disappearing card tricks, and with suddenly-appearing-from-nowhere cute bunny tricks. Watching them all sitting on the floor in front of him in their fashionable school uniforms consisting of short plaited red skirts and white blouses, legs innocently askew, wriggling around in their excited state as trick after trick amazed them - various coloured knickers in plain view, mmmm - is a sight still firmly imbedded in my mind. And if you haven’t already guessed by now, I am a lesbian with a loving interest in young girls, something going back to the days long ago (well, maybe not that long) when I used to look after my little sister while our mother was out on her frequent pub crawls. But that’s a story for another day if you care to wring it out of me sometime.

On this particular morning in early June it was sunny and quite warm, unusually warm for the time of year in fact, especially for our city which was known for an overabundance of cool, cloudy, windy and rainy weather. But today the cricket lovers had big smiles on their faces. Headmistress had taken over my duties at school while I ventured out to explore the possibilities she had suggested. Because it was so warm I had left my blazer in the staff room and just wore my skirt and a blouse. But as I entered the museum I was having second thoughts since it was rather cool inside, as my nipples quickly reminded me.

I wandered around from exhibit to exhibit, making a few notes as I came across displays that I thought would be of interest to our students, and there were quite a few that I knew would be both fun and educational at the same time. Several school tours were in progress that day and frustrated teachers were trying hard to keep their young charges together as they made their way from exhibit to exhibit. The cafeteria was a popular place too, as the kids indulged themselves in a variety of available junk food, while others who had brought their own pack lunches shared bits and pieces with close friends, the occasional cookie or piece of fruit being launched through the air to awaiting hands, but sometimes intercepted by a lucky interloper, causing screeches of either delight or dismay to echo around the tables. Colourful knickers were on full display here too, as young girls bent over to pick up fallen sandwiches or simply sat spread eagled, munching away at their snacks, oblivious to the delightful display they were putting on for the likes of people like me.

When my touring around entered its second hour I was almost ready to call it a day, having noted several exhibits to recommend to Headmistress. At that moment, however, I entered a section of the museum dealing with some historic displays, one of which involved the steam engine. Standing in front of one life-sized example was a man giving a presentation to a group of students who seemed very intent on what he was saying. They were seated along three wide stairs and most of the group were in the same age bracket as my own students, so I decided to watch how they reacted to the demonstration. The man presenting was very good, throwing a lot of humour into his explanation of how steam-powered locomotives worked, posing many questions to the young audience, several of whom squirmed around on their bums, arms waving in the air, eager to show off their knowledge.

And once again, it was knicker display time as short, school uniform skirts rode high on young, slim coltish legs, puffy pudenda pouting proudly against the thin material protecting their hidden treasures. I gave the presenter a lot of credit for being able to keep his mind focused on the mechanics of steam engines, but then again he was probably used to such displays, or maybe, I thought to myself with a smile, he was gay. The two teachers with the group, one of whom I recognized, seemed oblivious to their students’ charms, and were laughing along with some of the antics of their little darlings who were trying to show off their knowledge of how steam engines worked.

And then I saw her.

Your patience has been rewarded, dear reader; I told you I’d get back to her eventually didn’t I?

As I said at the beginning, she was completely oblivious to what was happening around her. I suppose steam locomotives had no appeal to this adorable little redheaded sweetheart. The mechanics of a different kind of heat generating object, the one nestled between her thighs, seemed to have captured her complete attention. Her glasses had slipped down to the tip of her nose and rested there precariously as she leaned down to get a better view at the apparent object of her affection, her long curly red hair almost obscuring the curious look on her face. Her thighs were widely spread, the hem of her skirt tugged up to her waist and the material of her panties had slipped deeply in between two very prominent pussy lips as one of her fingers poked tentatively around in exploration. I felt myself becoming aroused, my tongue involuntarily licking my lips, anticipating how delicious she must taste.

The little girl was sitting at the far end of the second row of stairs, not in direct view of the presenter unless he happened to look widely to his left, so I am sure he hadn’t noticed her antics. Neither had the two teachers - or so I thought, nor had any of the little girl’s classmates. But I certainly had, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Indeed, I slowly moved a little closer to the sweet darling to improve my view of this adorable ‘hands-on science exhibit.’

From my new vantage point I was able to determine that it must be the tightness of the material against such tender lips that was concerning the little girl. She seemed intent on grasping the seam at the side of the crotch to try to pull it away from one of her labia. But it kept slipping from her fingers and snapping back into place snuggly against her. Finally, she tried lifting her bum off the stair a little and pulling the crotch forward, and in so doing revealed her naked pussy to my eager eyes before the material once again returned to rest against her puffy lips. But it must have relieved the tension to a degree and she patted the material against her cunny, seeming somewhat satisfied that this had helped a little.

When I say it must have relieved the tension a little it was her tension to which I am referring. Mine, on the other hand was experiencing its own rise, characterized by the moistening I could feel starting to emanate from between my own lips. My imagination was quickly coming into play, wishing I would have been able to lend a hand, or even better, my tongue, to help relieve the little girl’s discomfort even further. I was so intent in watching her antics that I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden sound of a voice beside me.

“I see our Molly has captured your attention, Jennifer.” It was the teacher I had recognized earlier as I came upon the little gathering who had now silently slipped over beside me. Alice Durbeck was her name. We had met a few times at various educational functions - teachers being taught how to teach better - most of them boring us to tears. “She’s quite a little charmer, isn’t she?” she added. “No modesty in her blood,” she smiled, as the little girl I now knew as Molly looked up and caught her teacher’s eye. She quickly stood up and stumbled over toward us.

“Miss Durbeck, I don’t feel so good. My little tinkle is sore and I think I need to go home,” she told her softly, her hands clasped together in front of her as she snuck a shy glance toward me.

“Well, dear, you know it’s not possible for you to go home yet, so you’ll have to tough it out for now,” Alice told her. “And this is Miss Watson,” she told the little girl, looking over at me. “She’s a teacher I know at another school. Jennifer, this is our Molly O’Reilly.”

“Nice to meet you Molly,” I smiled at her. “You seemed to be having a spot of bother over there, sweetie.”

“Yes, miss. My knickers were too tight and they made my tinkle hurt, so I was trying to make it feel better. But it’s still really, really sore and I wish I could go home,” she whimpered to us.

At that moment there was a pause in the presentation as the man in charge looked over toward us to see what the problem was, but Alice just smiled at him and waved him to continue. A couple of Molly’s classmates noticed her with us and whispered back and forth, eliciting a few giggles as one of them pointed, covering her mouth with her other hand. They must have noticed what she had been doing, I thought to myself.

“Well, can I go to the loo then?” she asked hopefully. Anything to avoid having to sit quietly and listen, no doubt.

“We’ll be having a toilet break when the presentation ends, Molly. Now, I think you should go back and sit down for a few more minutes,” Alice told her.

“But it hurts,” she whined, as she held her hands tightly between her thighs, squirming as if she had to pee really badly.

“Maybe I can help, Alice,” I suggested, trying to come to Alice’s rescue. “I’ve seen all I need to see here today anyway. Perhaps I could drive Molly home if she’s really not feeling comfortable.” I noticed a smile form quickly on the little girl’s face.

“Oh, could you miss, please miss?” she almost begged.

“Well,” Alice hesitated, “I don’t want to put you out, Jennifer. She really should wait and go back to the school with us on the bus. You know how it is, regulations and so on.”

“It’s no bother, Alice, really. And she does appear to be a little poorly. Do you live far Molly?” I asked her.

“No miss, not too far away. I can show you,” she replied eagerly, sounding hopeful once more.

Alice shrugged. “Well, I guess it will be alright. I’ll just have to fill in a report for the headmistress. Now you be good, Molly O’Reilly, do you hear? And don’t give Miss Watson any trouble. I’m sure she will tell me if you do.” Alice winked at me.

“I won’t, I won’t,” the cute little redhead assured her, all smiles now that she appeared to have gotten her way.

As I tucked my notebook under my arm and took Molly by the hand, Alice whispered in my ear. “This is not the first time she’s done something like this, so don’t let her push you around. She has a way about her,” she winked again. Thanks for doing this, Jennifer. I owe you.”

I smiled and told her I’d be in touch soon, and then left the museum with Molly’s hot little hand clasped tightly in my own.

To be continued.