Amanda watched Lucy, a mess of tangled limbs, moan without restraint.
"Harder!" Lucy's voice, hoarse and guttural, tore through the space. "Fist me harder! Lick the shit out of my pussy!"
Andrew responded, his movements a blur of hands and tongue. Lucy's body convulsed, a violent shiver that wracked her frame, then she bucked against him, a scream tearing from her throat. Her hips arched, then slammed back down, a whimper escaping her lips. This raw release repeated, a cycle of escalating intensity, climax, and then a gradual, trembling retreat. Once. Twice. A third time.
Finally, Lucy lay still, spread-eagled on the smooth floor, her legs twitching uncontrollably, like a plucked string. A sheen of sweat coated her skin. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps.
Amanda stared, wide-eyed and uncomprehending. The sight unsettled a part of her she didn't know existed. She turned to Andrew, her voice barely a whisper. "Is… is Lucy alright?"
Andrew pulled away from Lucy, adjusting his clothes. He looked at Amanda, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. A soft chuckle escaped him, devoid of malice, full of knowing.
"She's more than alright, Amanda," he said, his voice gentle. "She's happy." He knelt beside Lucy, stroking her hair away from her damp face. Lucy stirred, a low groan escaping her lips, but otherwise remained unresponsive, lost in the waves of sensation.
Andrew turned his full attention to Amanda. "You don't understand, do you?"
Amanda shook her head, her long black hair swaying with the motion. Her mind wrestled with the images, the sounds, the sheer primal energy of it all. It was so far removed from anything she had ever experienced, anything she had ever been taught.
"Lucy," Andrew began, his gaze sweeping over Lucy's prone form, "is a grown woman. She needs… release. From time to time." He paused, searching for the right words in a language Amanda could comprehend. "It's like... a pressure building up inside her. Like when you train, and your muscles get sore, and you need to stretch them out. But this is different. It's in a different part of her body. For women, it builds up. And if you don't let it out, it can make you unhappy, agitated."
He gestured vaguely. "Think of it like… a storm. A storm gathers, dark clouds, lightning, thunder. You need rain to clear the air, yes?" Amanda nodded slowly. "This… this for Lucy, it's her rain. It clears her mind. Makes her calm again."
Andrew's eyes met Amanda's directly. "One day, you'll feel it too. This same… pressure. You'll feel it building up inside you. And you'll need your own storm."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "But I'm too small for all those stuff right now. I can only help her like this." He pointed to Lucy's pubic mound, a dark growth of curls, then to the prominent clitoris, still swollen from her climax. "This part, here." His finger hovered. "This is where the storm gathers for a woman. This is where the pressure builds."
Lucy, legs still trembling, remained oblivious to the impromptu anatomy lesson, lost in the lingering aftershocks of her pleasure.
Amanda watched Lucy the next day, a whirlwind of boundless energy. Her smile spread across her face like a sunrise, bright and unwavering. Andrew's words, about the storm clearing, about Lucy being "more than alright," resonated with the vibrant proof before her. Lucy moved with a newfound lightness, a spring in her step, her blue eyes sparkling. Amanda understood Andrew had not lied.
Later, when Andrew was not around, Amanda found Lucy tending to a small patch of herbs in the academy's garden. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, painting shifting patterns on Lucy's blonde hair. Amanda approached, her heart a quick drumbeat against her ribs.
"Lucy," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucy looked up, her smile softening. "Yes, little one?"
"About… yesterday." Amanda fumbled for words. "Andrew said… you felt better."
A blush bloomed on Lucy's cheeks, a soft rose against her fair skin. She plucked a leaf, twirling it between her fingers. "He did, didn't he?" Her gaze flickered away, then back to Amanda. "It's… quite simple, really. For us women, when we start to mature, we get these… urges. This pressure Andrew talked about." She exhaled slowly. "If you don't relieve it, you become… cranky. Mad, like. Nothing feels right."
Amanda listened intently, her small brow furrowed.
"Some women," Lucy continued, her voice softer, "they learn to do it themselves. To… masturbate." She pronounced the word carefully, as if testing its unfamiliar shape. "But in my case," she glanced around, as if to ensure their privacy, "I have Andrew. He helps me."
Amanda's mind flashed back to the vivid scene in the training room. "But… he is so small. And he used his… his mouth." The memory of Andrew's tongue on Lucy's intimate parts made Amanda blush intensely, a heat rising to her own cheeks.
Lucy chuckled, a warm, melodic sound. "He is small, true. But he knows what to do. And nothing I do for myself, no matter how hard I try, comes close to what he does. I don't know why. It just… doesn't." She shrugged, a simple gesture of acceptance. "He connects with… my core. With that storm Andrew spoke of."
Amanda's blush deepened. The thought of Andrew, the boy she considered a friend, performing such an act, stirred a strange mix of confusion and curiosity within her.
Lucy noticed Amanda's heightened color and smiled, a knowing glint in her blue eyes. "You're lucky, Amanda."
"Lucky?" Amanda repeated, her voice a squeak.
"Yes." Lucy nodded. "When you get to my age, when you start to feel these urges, Andrew will be grown. He'll be a man." She paused, her gaze drifting to the distant academy spires. "He'll be able to have… proper sex with you. It's far better than what he does for me now. Much, much better." Her voice dropped, a hint of wistfulness in her tone. "You could even get pregnant. Have children. A family."
Amanda imagined the scene, but this time with a grown Andrew, with herself, a woman. The image, though hazy, sparked a flicker of something new within her, a feeling she couldn't quite name. It was not fear, nor disgust. A quiet anticipation, perhaps.
Amanda returned the next day, finding Lucy again in the herb garden, meticulously tending to a row of fragrant lavender plants. The academy grounds hummed with the usual morning activity, but here, in this secluded corner, a sense of quiet intimacy prevailed. Amanda, still reeling from yesterday's revelations, approached with a renewed sense of purpose.
"Lucy," she began, her voice earnest, "what you did with Andrew… what did it feel like?" She picked nervously at a loose thread on her tunic. "When he… when he licked you. Was it… scary?"
Lucy paused, her fingers still amongst the lavender. She looked at Amanda, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Scary? No, not scary at all." She straightened, brushing a stray leaf from her blonde hair. "It felt… good."
"Good?" Amanda's eyes widened, her imagination struggling to grasp the abstract concept. "How good?"
Lucy laughed, a gentle, melodic sound that carried on the breeze. "Imagine the most delicious food you've ever tasted. But it's not food. It's a feeling. It starts like a tingle, a little spark at first. Then it grows, like a warm wave washing over you." She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the sensation. "Andrew, he knows just where to touch, just how to move his tongue. It's… rhythmic. Hypnotic almost."
Amanda leaned closer, her breath held. "And then… the scream? Was that when you… you know." She whispered the last word, embarrassed.
"The cum?" Lucy supplied, her eyes twinkling. "Yes, that's when it builds to a peak. It's like climbing a mountain, Amanda. You're working, pushing, and then you reach the top, and there's this incredible release. All the tension, all that pressure Andrew spoke about, it just… explodes out of you." She shuddered delicately, the memory still potent. "It leaves you weak, breathless, but completely, utterly satisfied."
"And it wasn't painful?" Amanda asked, her brow still furrowed with concern.
"Painful?" Lucy shook her head. "No, sweetie. It's the exact opposite of pain. It's pleasure. Pure, unadulterated pleasure." She plucked a lavender bloom, inhaling its scent. "Sometimes, it's so intense, you feel like you might shatter into a million pieces. But you don't. You just… release."
Amanda pondered this, her mind trying to reconcile these descriptions with her own limited experiences of "good" sensations – the taste of sweet fruit, the warmth of a sunny day, the satisfaction of perfecting a difficult cultivation technique. None of them seemed to capture the intensity Lucy described.
"Could I… could I ask Andrew to do it for me?" Amanda finally ventured, the words tumbling out in a rush.
Lucy's smile softened further. She looked at Amanda with kind eyes. "You could, I suppose." She considered her words carefully. "But it's not something you need right now, Amanda. You're still so young. That 'pressure' hasn't really built up in you yet like it has in me." She paused. "And besides," her gaze sharpened slightly, "there's a good chance he'd just refuse."
Amanda's face fell, a shadow passing over her features.
"Don't misunderstand," Lucy continued quickly, sensing Amanda's disappointment. "It's not that he wouldn't want to help you. It's just… you truly don't need it yet. And Andrew has his own ways of deciding who he helps, and when." She placed a gentle hand on Amanda's shoulder. "If you want to get on Andrew's good side, if you want him to notice you, truly notice you, focus on your studies. Train hard in body forging. Be a good student. Show him your dedication. That's more than enough."