Sommerstall Academy

It’s Friday lunch and the guys and I are hanging out with Florence. We’re in the park again since it’s no longer cold. I love spring.

Florence is sitting between my legs, leaning against my chest as I play with the ends of her hair. I took out her clip and intended to figure out how she pulls her hair back but turns out I’m a disaster. So now it will be down until she changes that herself. Not that she seems to mind the way things are right now, judging by the content smile on her face as she takes in the sun.

‘What are we doing tonight?’ Marcus asks.

‘Shed?’ Liam grumbles. He’s been extra moody recently, especially when it comes to me. I don’t care what has his panties in a twist though.

‘Sure, I’ll get my sister to buy some beer,’ Jamie adds. The guys decide on a time before the bell rings and we need to hurry back to class.

I couldn’t tell you a single thing Miss Yeng said. It’s been this way ever since Florence started sitting next to me. I’m so aware of her proximity that I can barely think about anything else. I keep one hand on her thigh, stroking my thumb over the fabric covering her skin but today my mind keeps wandering off. You see, she’s wearing a skirt and my hormonal mind keeps thinking about what would happen if my hand just slipped beneath it. I’d never do it, of course. I think Florence would have a heart attack. Still, let’s just say the old lady at the front has never seemed less interesting.

After class, Florence takes me to her place. She’s home alone so that’s no problem and we figured I’ll let her get ready first before we take the bus to my place. From there on it’s a quick drive to the shed.

Here I am, taking in Florence’s bookshelf while she takes a shower. I recognize Punk 57. She doesn’t know it yet but I’ve actually read it myself after seeing it in her room. I wanted to know what kinds of stuff my girl spends all her time reading. Let’s just say I was surprised.

Other than that, I bought myself another book from Penelope Douglas since I lowkey enjoyed Punk 57. I asked the lady in the bookstore what she thought I might like and she suggested Corrupt. That was a week ago and I’m already almost done with it. Who would have thought I’d enjoy reading?

‘What should I wear?’ Florence’s voice takes me back to now. She’s standing in front of her dresser in nothing more than two towels. One in her hair and one around her body. Oh shit.

I’d like to answer her but I think there might not be enough blood left in my brain to form a coherent sentence. I try to hide my reaction to Florence subtly so I don’t make her uncomfortable but she seems sweetly oblivious. Does she know what she’s doing?

‘Whatever you’re most comfortable in,’ I tell her. She turns around and frowns.

‘I’m giving you a choice here. Be helpful,’ she says exasperatedly.

‘You look good in everything you wear,’ I tell her with a chuckle. To that, my girl tips her head back and groans, putting her slender neck to show. I watch as a drop of water slides down her skin. Come on! She must know what she’s doing.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she suddenly says so I drag my eyes back to hers.

‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’

‘No. You’re making me want to be late or simply ditch the others completely.’ I can feel my eyebrows raise at her admission, making her laugh.

‘That’s better. Now tell me what to wear,’ she adds.

‘Fine.’ I get off her bed and take a look at her closet. Unsurprisingly, everything is folded neatly and sorted by colors. ‘Do you have any more skirts?’ I ask her to which she smiles. She silently opens another drawer, revealing about a billion skirts. I study them before choosing a brown one with a flower pattern. Now that we got the flower part down, I can choose the top freely. See that, smart!

‘Is this comfortable?’ I ask her, taking out said skirt.

‘Absolutely,’ she says with a smile. Then I take a look at her shirts. I pick a beige one that ties at the back and hand it to her.

I thought we were done with it but Florence opens another drawer. I do a double take when I see it’s all underwear before looking at her.

‘Really?’ I ask, inwardly feeling like a little child on Christmas.

‘Well, I’m not going without panties,’ she tells me as if it were obvious.

‘That’s not what I thought before but it’s where my mind’s at now. We’ll do that next time, I guess.’ I wink at her before turning to choose underwear. I’m keeping my hands to myself, not wanting to appear like a creep, and try to assess what could be comfortable by just looking at the fabrics.

‘Do I get to see it on you?’ I ask, unable to help myself. The girl’s cheeks heat up and she smiles shily. There she is. She doesn’t answer me though which is fine.

‘So, do you want something natural or should we go with that one?’ I ask, motioning to the bright red lace. With the shirt I chose, I’m guessing she won’t wear a bra though there would be a matching one, I see. ‘I think I’d enjoy knowing you’re wearing something the guys would never guess,’ I add.

‘Yeah,’ Florence whispers before clearing her throat. ‘Your pick.’

‘Let’s go with that, then. By the way, why do you have so much lingerie?’ I ask her, only for her cheeks to burn up hotter. She tries to avert her eyes but I gently cup her face and smile at her. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Florence.’

‘First, it’s not lingerie, just matching sets. And second, it’s fun to shop for them. They make me feel,’ she breaks off, swallowing and smiling shily. ‘Hot, I guess. Even if no one sees it.’ She laughs and takes a step back.

‘Makes sense. I’ll let you change then.’ I turn around, trying not to let my mind wander when I hear the towels drop and clothes rustling.

‘All done,’ she tells me finally. I let my eyes travel over her once, trying not to linger where the skirt ends mid-thighs and her shirt’s v lands. ‘Happy with your choices?’ she asks, seeming more confident now that she’s dressed.

‘Very,’ I tell her before pulling her close enough to kiss. It was meant to be a quick peck but Florence quickly deepens the kiss. Her hands find mine on her hips and she gently pulls them further down until they cup her ass. Then she tangles her fingers in my hair, stepping all the way against me and making me groan.

‘Let’s tell the others we won’t make it,’ she whispers against my lips. I laugh at that. Who would’ve thought the shy girl would suggest things like this?

‘As much as I’d love that, they’d probably take it as far as coming here to get us themselves,’ I tell her.

‘I can see that. Fine, let’s go to your place.’