Lessons

I can still remember every detail about that day. It had started out normally. I had gotten up, went to breakfast with my friends, and then went off to class. My school wasn’t a regular public school. I went to the much unknown schools that were stashed in every state. The prestigious math and science schools, and the one I went to happened to be Arkansas’s. These schools are boarding, meaning the students lived there. So this ritual of going to breakfast with my friends every morning was nothing new.
The rest of the day up until my free hour was normal. The school is on block schedule so instead of having all seven classes every day we only have four; each one being an hour and a half long. Anyway, on my free hour I had to go turn in a history paper to my history teacher, Mr. Roberts. Mr. Roberts was a very tall and athletic man who people compared to Tom Welling of off Smallville. But, I was immune to the charm of Mr. Paul Roberts, or so I had thought.
I was wearing a pink John Deere t-shirt with a regular pair of jeans; my hair straight down falling to the middle of my back. I had thought that there was nothing provocative about what I was wearing, but I guess I was wrong. A sixteen year old whose never been kissed is obviously not well versed in the ways of men or what they find sexy.
I knocked on the door and waited until the deep, velvety “Come in,” was issued before opening the door. “Here, Mr. Roberts. I’m sorry it was late.” His dark eyes locked on mine as he said, “Its okay. Come on in so I can discuss your last paper.” I remember thinking ‘What the hell?’ because I had thought my last paper was brilliant. He stood up from behind his desk, paper in hand, and said, “Why don’t you sit down?” I gingerly sat down on the couch as he closed the door. The click of the lock sliding easily in place caused my head to snap towards him. He was now leaning casually against the door seemingly looking at my paper; however, his eyes were staring intensely into mine.
“Is there something wrong with my paper?” I asked. My voice was confident, but I was shaking on the inside. Why had he locked the damn door? He flipped to the second page of the paper, then back to the front, before standing up and walking towards the couch were I was sitting. He slide into the cramped space beside me, slightly turned so he was facing me somewhat.
“Your paper was great.” That was all he said before he reached out and gently laid his hand on my thigh. I was shocked to say the least, but as soon as I could think, I picked up his hand that way you pick up something disgusting, using only your thumb and first finger, then laid it on his own. “If that’s all you wanted to say, I’ll be going.” I got up and went to open the door.
Before I could even unlock it, Mr. Roberts grabbed my shoulders, turned me around, and slammed me up against the wood paneling. I gasped as his hands slammed the door on either side of my head. I gasped again, and Mr. Roberts’ eyes were drawn to my lips. “Did I tell you, you could leave?” The voice was one I had never heard come out of his mouth. It was raspy barely a hint of the velvety-ness that usually emitted from his mouth. “Mr. Roberts, I don’t fell comfortable with you alone, with the door locked.” I told him honestly.
He smiled. The only word to describe it was predatory. “Why? Afraid of what I’ll do or what you’ll let me do?” His hand came to frame the side of my face, and I turned it to keep it from touching me. “Yes, and no.” I said answering each of his questions. I put my hands on the sweater covering his chest in an effort to push him away, but he didn’t budge.
His hand caressed my jaw and lips. “Stop, Mr. Roberts. Let me go.” His other hand went to the back of my head to entangle itself in my hair. “Now, why would I do that?” I increased the pressure on his shoulders, still to no effect. “If you don’t I will turn you in.” My voice was flat to emphasize my seriousness. “If you do that, I will just say, it was you who made the pass at me. Who do you think they will believe?” I felt my eyes tear up at the truth of his words. I closed my eyes to hide my fear from him and felt a few tears escape my tightly closed lids. I felt his soft, warm lips on my eyelids, “Don’t cry. You know you want this as much as I do.” His warm breath tickled my ear. I took a shaky breath when I felt his warm, moist tongue trace the shell of my ear. His musky scent filled my nostrils making my head swim.
“Mr. Roberts, I DO NOT want this. You are doing this against my will.” I clearly stated this so there would be no miss understanding. He gently pulled my head to the side and inhaled the scent of my neck. “Do you truly mean that?” He asked as he began to sniff and run his fingers through my hair. I relaxed my arms unconsciously because of the pleasure he was causing. He dragged his hand slowly down my side and rested it on the small of my back. “Do you?” he whispered as he roughly dragged me up against his rock hard body. I couldn’t think with the sensations he was creating. He repeated his question against my lips, and it brought me to my senses enough to be able to whisper, “I do.” He literally picked my up and sandwiched my between his body and door so we were face to face. “No you don’t. You just think you’re supposed to. Can you honestly tell me you don’t enjoy the sensations I’m creating in you. Can you honestly tell me you’re shaking from fear and not desire?” His voice was like cold steel against my cheek, and this was the first time I realized I was shaking. I opened my eyes to stare into his and found them dark pools of desire, and my voice gone. I stayed silent. His smile was once again predatory.
“Mr. Roberts,” my voice cracked as he gently laid his lips against the tip of my nose. I cleared my throat and started again, “Mr. Roberts, stop. Please.” He kissed my chin, and I felt my mouth becoming dry. He rubbed a tear away from my cheek as he said, “You don’t mean that.” Then he did what I’d been anticipating, he laid his lips to mine in a chaste kiss. He pulled back and stared deep into my eyes. I found myself glancing at his lips. He caught and held my gaze as he began to lower his lips to mine in a not-so-chaste kiss.
It began as nothing more than a meeting of lips. His hand began to message the back of my head as he nibbled on my lower lip begging for entrance. I gasped as the jolts of electricity snaked throughout my body causing my stomach muscles to tighten. His tongue darted into my mouth as he tasted me. I didn’t respond, seeing how I’ve never been kissed-I wasn’t real confident on what to do exactly-; I gasped again when I felt his tongue touched mine as he began to coax a response from me. My skin felt on fire with something I couldn’t exactly name. He pulled back and began to kiss all over my face then down to my neck. My eyes opened and fastened on my salvation. The clock said one thirty-five. My algebra class was at one forty. “Mr. Roberts, I’m gonna be late for class.”
He pulled back, and I felt myself being lowered to the floor. His dark eyes never left mine. I could barely breathe under the intensity of his gaze; the click of the lock echoed like a canon blast. “Until next time, then.” I turned to open the door, and found myself between the proverbial rock and a hard place. “And, there will be a next time.” I began to shake uncontrollably at the promise in his voice. I jerked the door open and speed out of it.
The next few days were relatively uneventful. I spent most of the day avoiding Mr. Roberts. When I had to be in the same room as him, I always made sure there was someone else with me. During class, I never looked at him. And it worked for a few days.
I received an e-mail from him one day. This, in itself, was normal. E-mail was a normal way for teachers to communicate with their students at my school. Come see me about your test. Those six words were like a death sentence. Again it was during my third hour free period, the one he knew none of my friends had free. He had me trapped.
I honestly couldn’t tell you if my trembling was from excitement or fear. Yes, I had admitted to myself that I had enjoyed the last encounter, but I knew it wasn’t right. And I didn’t want to repeat it; you can like something and not want to repeat it.
I tapped lightly on his door, hoping he wouldn’t hear so I could leave and tell him that I had come, but he wasn’t there. “Come in.” The words sealed my fate as sure as the slamming of the bars seal a convict’s. I opened the door and laid down my bag to keep it open. “What’s the matter with my test?”
“You didn’t do the back page. I assume you didn’t see the questions.” I shook my head yes and took a pen out of my pocket to finish my test. I leaned the test against the door to finish the last five questions. “Sit down; those short answers are hard.” I glanced at the couch and knew if I did, he would kiss me again. “Come on now, I don’t bite….hard.” He whispered the last part, and I felt shivers race down my spine. I looked at my watch which was no help. I still had an hour and twenty minutes of free time. I heard him sigh then he took the choice away from me. With both my pen and my test, he led me to the couch. He handed both to me along with a clip board. I began to write. I was so tense that I thought my pen would crack. I heard the lock click again, and my hand slipped causing me to draw a blue slash down the paper. I hurried through the back page of the test, and honestly I couldn’t tell you whether I actually even considered the question, but I just jotted down the first thing that came to my mind.
I went to put the clip board down on his desk, but he intercepted it. His large hand completely covered my small one. “Thank you for letting me finish my test.” He smiled and I felt him trying to pull me closer. “No problem.” I pulled my hand out from under his, and he let me. I turned to go, but as soon as I bent to pick up my bag, I felt his hands on my arms. “You’re not leaving so soon, are you?” I straightened up with out my bag and said, “I have homework I’ve gotta get done.” My voice wasn’t as near as confident as I’d liked to have been. “Ah, excuses. You know I hate excuses.” I tried to take a step forward, hoping he would let go, but he took the opportunity pull me even more off balance and hold me against his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” I realized I was letting him use me, and it made me angry. “To finish my work.” My voice was angry, and with a burst strength I didn’t know I had, I exploded free. My left hand went to undo the lock while my right went to open the knob which created a criss-cross effect. Before I could turn the lock, Mr. Roberts had grabbed my hands and turned me in such a way that I ended up facing him with both my hands above my head, being held in his vice like grip. This was the second time in three weeks I had found myself sandwiched between his body and the door, and I didn’t like it.
Feeding off my fear, I burst free of his hold and ducked out under his arm. “Mr. Roberts, let me go.” My voice was starting to get higher with panic. “You know this isn’t right. I’m your student.” I tried to reason with him. I was backing up and slammed into his desk. With one long stride in the small office, he had his body pressed against mine. The edge of the desk dug into my bare skin, and I berated myself for wearing a skirt. He took out everything on the entire upper left hand corner of his desk in single swipe of his powerful arm. “But there is barely an age distance. Twenty three to sixteen, I’d say it’s reasonable.” I gasped as he lifted me up and set me on the desk. His leg separated mine, and he pulled me so that I was straddling it the way you set a toddler on your leg to play horsie. I had no choice but to grab his steel shoulders in order to keep my balance. “NO! Mr. Roberts let me go.”
He sighed and grabbed my chin to force me to look into his eyes. “I do believe that we’ve already had this conversation. Didn’t we agree that we both want this?” He began to kiss me all over my face. “You know you want to awaken those feelings, those sensations that only I can awaken in you.” I did. My eyes had closed as if they had a will of their own. “Stop fighting it.” He pressed a tender kiss to my temple. “Stop letting society tell you what’s right and what’s wrong, and follow your instincts.” His voice was over me like a thick oil coating me in pleasure. He found my heartbeat on my neck. “Your heart’s beating so fast. From fear? No. From excitement.” My mouth was becoming dry. If I felt it was right, what did it matter what society thought?
“You like what I’m doing to you.” He began rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “Mr. Roberts,” I began. “Paul, call me Paul,” he said against my forehead. “I don’t know what to do.” He laughed a deep throaty laugh. What was I doing? I know this is wrong. He’s my teacher; he’s supposed to be someone I can look up to, not someone who uses me. Finally my common sense kicked in. “MR. ROBERTS,” I emphasized the formal name to show I wouldn’t cave, “If you don’t let me go, I swear I will scream.” I tired to put all my force in my gaze to show just how serious I was, but he just smiled a lopsided smile as if he knew I wouldn’t. I gave him three seconds before opening my mouth wide to scream; before I could even suck in a breath, his lips crushed down onto mine, and I winced at the pain of my teeth cutting the back of my lips. I felt his tongue slide gently over the hurt he just created before venturing forth to dance with mine. As before, when his tongue first touched mine, a thousand bolts electricity shot to my toes making my legs curl around his. Unknowingly, I created a pressure in my womanly place that begged to be released. He pulled me up more on thigh shifting the pressure which only made it more insistent. Without realizing it, I began to rock back and forth to feed my desires. Mr. Roberts pulled out of the kiss to pay homage to my neck, and I heard someone moan; I realized later it was me.
Mr. Roberts was teasing me with little nips here and there, not enough pressure to leave a hickey, but enough for me to feel. “See I told you I don’t bite hard,” his raspy voice only excited me more causing me to shiver. I vaguely registered the silkiness of his hair between my fingers, and one of his palms caressing up my midriff underneath my shirt. His hand came to rest upon one of my breasts as if weighing the weight. “Perfect,” I heard him breathe. My eyes, that I had never realized had closed, snapped open. I pulled my hands from his hair, and used all my strength to push him back, this time he went. I knew it was voluntary, because I would have never had the strength to push him back on my own. I felt dirty as soon as his hands left me. I knew what we were doing was wrong; I felt tears well in my eyes. I glanced at Mr. Roberts, and felt a tear slide down my cheek. He opened his mouth to say something, but I waived my hand and left without saying a word.
I went straight to my room. Knowing if I was late to class, the registrar would call me and demand to know why I was so upset, I went straight to the schedule to see how much time I had before my next class. I had ten minutes. I forced myself to stop shaking very quickly, then I washed my faced to make the tear stain disappear. And, after gathering my books, I was off.
I thought about the encounters a lot the next few days. Not really knowing whether I felt dirty because I didn’t want it to happen or because society told me I was supposed to. I don’t really think dirty is the right word. I didn’t feel the need to scrub off his touch, nor did I feel like a thousand bugs were crawling all over me. Yes, I could still feel his touch, and the ghosts of the sensations that he awoke in me. But I could also feel another sensation. One I can’t exactly name. It’s not really a want or a desire; it was more intense than that. I guess it would be more of a starving hunger, but I don’t want to be as clichéd as that, besides that term doesn’t really do it justice. Needless to say, with all these thoughts swirling around in my head, I became very confused.
Did the fact that I wanted him to touch me again make me a whore? Was it really wrong or did society just say that to protect the ones who didn’t want it? What exactly did Mr. Roberts want? Just sex or something deeper? Could I live with myself if it was just sex? What exactly did I feel for Mr. Paul Roberts, lust? All these questions gave me a constant headache which was the excuse I used no to go out to play time.
Finally, after a few days of being confused, I decided to come up with some answers. The ones I could answer: What exactly did I feel for Mr. Roberts? I knew that I didn’t want to like him because everyone else did, but all that aside, what was it exactly. After many hours debate, I admitted to myself, that over the course of my junior and the first quarter of my senior year, I had fallen prey to his lethal charm, and developed a small run of the mill high school crush on him. Now could I live with myself if I gave in, but it never developed into something deeper? This one was tougher. It had always been important to me to be a virgin on my wedding day, and I know that I couldn’t break that promise to myself. But could I do something a little naughtier than kissing with him and still live with myself. Considering my morals, I didn’t think so. I also didn’t want to become another teen statistic that lost their virginity before I became eighteen. So, after many mind wrenching hours of racking my brain, morals, and soul I decided that nothing could come of what was happening between us. After deciding this I knew only one other question mattered. Was I a dirty slut?
Unable to answer this, I went to my friends Beth and Liz to help me answer. I cornered them in Beth’s room one night during playtime. “Ok, say this guy kissed me, and I liked it, and want him to do it again, but I know he can’t, does that make me a whore?” The words rushed out of my mouth, and like true girls of today, they jumped right on the gossip end. “Who kissed you?” The way their eyes lit up and looks of pure joy on their faces scared me more than a bit. They leaned in like vultures feasting on fresh road kill. “None ya,” I told them; quickly I added, “and what if he was say a teacher, but not from this school?” They gasped as if I had slapped them in their faces, and their eyes became as big as quarters. “A teacher kissed you? Was he cute?” I huffed at Liz and ground out, “It doesn’t matter. Does that make me a whore?” My voice was hard as rock. “Well, how old was he?” Beth inquired. “Twenty-three.” I felt like a child admitting how many cookies she had eaten before dinner. “Well, the fact it was a teacher is kinda weird, and the age difference is weird, but it’s only this one guy, right? You’re not a dirty whore.” I found their reassurance encouraging and went out to playtime with a free conscience.
Again there was a short time period when nothing occurred. Then one day during history Mr. Roberts announced, “I need to see these people after class in my office.” I felt a combined sense of excitement and fear when my name was called. It was caused by the notion that I was going to have to be alone with him in his office, and the way he said my name. His voice got a little bit deeper; he said it slower, and it seemed like satin that covered my entire body against my skin. I made it a point to be there first so that he couldn’t try anything, but as soon as I walked in he told me I would have to wait until last. “But, Mr. Roberts, I have a club meeting to go to in five minutes.” I lied. He smiled that lopsided smile that made my stomach clench. “You’re an awful liar.” His voice sent chills down my spine. It was full of promise.
I felt trapped. On one hand he was my teacher, and I felt like I had to do what he told me, but on the other, I knew it was wrong, and I shouldn’t let him, but on the third, I liked, no, I wanted him to do it again. Not sure what I should do, I did what I could: I waited for my turn.
When it was my turn, I walked in, didn’t even take my bag off my back, and waited. After about five minutes of needlessly straitening his desk and computer he turned to me. I couldn’t help but notice how his tight black sweater accentuated his rippling muscles; just looking at them brought back the sensations of how they felt while I was pressed up against the door. I gulped, and he heard me. “Sit down,” the barked order was like sandpaper this time. “The others weren’t in here very long; I think I’ll stand.” My rebuttal was flat, or as flat as I could make it. The confidence I was hoping was present in my voice was lost. I knew I was letting him have too much control, and the thought of how much I would make fun of someone in this situation who didn’t take control renewed the steel of my backbone. I looked him directly in the eyes and dared him to make a move. Which looking back was a big mistake. “Your grade has risen from a D to a C. You no longer have mandatory tutoring.” I nodded once then turned to leave. “Oh, wait that’s not all.” I stopped in mid stride. Mr. Roberts was a big man, maybe six one or two, while I was a measly five five; which meant while he could cross his office in one stride I couldn’t and still had one or two more steps to go so if I chose to run, I wouldn’t make it.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before turning around. He was no longer sitting in his chair, but he was now leaning nonchalantly against his desk with his arms crossed. “I’m very busy, Mr. Roberts. What?” He just stared at me for a moment before stating, “I’ve noticed that you haven’t been paying attention in class.” I shook my head no, “I have been paying attention, but I just haven’t been looking at you. There’s a difference.” I explained to him as if he were a small child. I even used hand gestures. One eyebrow lifted as if to say “Really?” But the words that came out of his mouth when he spoke were, “Why not?” I stayed silent feeling no need to answer his question. “Do I make you nervous? Or is it that when you see me you have flash backs? Do my hands remind you of what I can do to you?” I felt my face becoming very hot and knew I was blushing. “I don’t have to listen to this sexual harassment.” I turned to stomp out, but was grabbed inches away from the door. One hand covered my mouth while the other locked the door. I knew the click of the lock almost certainly sealed my fate this time; I was sure he was tired of waiting. One hand grabbed the one shoulder strap of my bag that was holding it on and slid it off then he set it to the side. His other hand left my mouth only to travel to my back, as the bag was now sitting on the ground, the other sweep up my legs so he was me holding bridal style.
I began to chew on my lip, a nervous habit, which in turn drew his eyes to my lips. The same musky scent from before filled my nostrils making it hard to breath, but at the same time, I wanted to take as much of it in as I could. I never realized he moved until he laid me down gently on the couch. He straddled me to keep me from moving. He captured my hands as I went to slap him. He held both of them in one of his hands up over my head. I was completely trapped. My breathing became more sporadic, but whether it was from fear or desire, I don’t know. “Let me….” I began, but he interrupted me, “No!” The forcefulness behind the command made me be quiet. “Let me talk.” His voice changed gentler so quickly that I wondered if he might be bipolar. “The other day, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.”
The words he’s apologizing echoed through my head. I opened my mouth to tell him he was going to do it again if he didn’t let me up, but he put his fingers on my lips quieting me. “You want me. I can see it in your eyes, even now. I can tell in the way you smile during class. Why fight it?” He removed his hand so I could talk. “Because it’s wrong; you’re my teacher. Because of my morals, the promises I have made to myself.” I put all my heart in my eyes hoping he would let me go. “You’re not exactly sure of what you want. I can see it in your eyes. Part of you wants me to do this.”
He demonstrated exactly what he meant by this. He kissed me. The first two kisses were gentle; the third was crushing; and this one was a mixture. He put enough pressure in to be insistent, but not enough to hurt me like the other. This one was just as chaste as the first. He neither begged nor demanded entrance, but something in me commanded I give him permission, which I instinctively did. When the feeling of rightness hit me, I parted my lips.
He confidently entered my mouth and began to duel with my tongue. Without realizing it, he coaxed me out of my mouth and into his where he began to create more, different sensations. He sucked on my tongue, then pulled back to nibble on my lips. I felt them begin to swell, and I realized that I was participating just as much as he was. He began to give my neck love bites, and my hands were free. I knew with my hands free, and his balance being precarious, I could push him off me and onto the ground, but the question was did I want to?
The cool air mixed with his warm breath tickled my now bare nipple. I knew I should push him off, but when his warm, wet tongue roughly scraped over my nipple, all thoughts flew out the proverbial window. My hands went to his hair as if to hold him in place. The near but distant moaning I was hearing was me. My back was arched to encourage him. I felt every muscle in my body tighten as he began to suckle. I felt that delicious pressure building and knew I should stop him. “One little soldier is now at attention, how about the other one?” I heard him whisper. Had I been watching a porno, I would have laughed at the choice of words, but at the moment the way he was messaging my rapidly cooling ‘soldier’ along with the one he was bringing to attention was creating some of the most delectable feelings I had ever experienced. “Do you want me stop?” I heard him ask, but it was as if he was a million miles away. I couldn’t understand the meaning of his words with what he was doing to me. I could barely breathe; a full sentence was out of the question.
He stopped and framed my face with his hands. “Do….you….want….me….to….stop?” He slowly repeated the question. I understood the question this time as I stared into his eyes. I knew I should say yes, but when I opened my mouth nothing came out. I shut my mouth to keep from looking like a fish and a complete fool. He slowly lowered his midsection into contact with my belly. The rock hardness protruding was a sharp contrast to the softness of my stomach. He just stared at me for several minutes. Just the way he was laying caused several jolts of electricity to course throughout my body. After a minute, I realized exactly what it was, and I formed the most eloquent sentence: “Stop!” Mr. Roberts, as if content with his fate, only fixed my shirt and bra, both of which I have no recollection of how they got messed up in the first place, and whispered in my ear, “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Everything that’s happening is totally normal and right.”
He stood up and helped me up. As I turned to leave he asked, “I didn’t scare you, did I?” I could only think of the confusion I was experiencing. I only shook my head no as I walked out the door, silently.
I thanked the good Lord above for the way our schedules were set up. That was on a Wednesday so I didn’t have to face him again until Friday. Thursday gave me a day to think. The questions I had thought I resolved were really no closer to being answered than before I asked them. I knew I liked what Paul did to me. Yes, I had begun to call him Paul when I thought about what was happening. Anyway, back to my previous train of thought, I liked the way he touched me, and knew I wanted him to do it again. But what exactly was it that I wanted? I knew he could very easily make me cum if he wanted to, but would we go all the way? And if we did, would I be ok with that? I knew having sex with anyone else was not going to happen, but why did I want Paul? I had never felt this way about anyone before; never had I wanted to do this with any of my boyfriends or school girl crushes.
I had no answers to these questions, and I knew that I would probably never be able to answer them so I did what I was best at: I ignored them for the whole day that I could. Friday, when I could ignore no more, each step I took towards the class room caused my heart to beat faster. I had realized that my nervousness wasn’t from fear; no, I knew Paul would never hurt me. But I didn’t exactly want to call it excitement either. Excitement meant that I knew something was going to happen. This was more anticipation. I wanted something to happen. Something in the back of my mind told me it was wrong to have a sexual relationship with my teacher, but I also knew that I wanted it. If I wanted it, was it still wrong? This was yet another one of questions that gave me a constant headache.
I don’t remember much what was taught in that class, but I do remember thinking constantly about how his arms felt wrapped around my body and how his tongue and teeth caused the most incredible shivers to course throughout my body as he licked at my nipples. I can also remember the looks he shot me during that class. I remember how his eyes went from normal to dark smoldering pools as he looked at me, and how it felt as if he were undressing me with each glance.
Before I knew it we were dismissed. I left that class a little disappointed that he hadn’t called me to his office. I knew that if went to his office on my own, then he would definitely kiss me again, and I knew I wanted him to, but should I? Would he think I was a whore I he knew I wanted it? I knew that I did. So I made my decision. This time I would initiate it, and I would be in control.
I waited for about an hour, and then went to his office. With each step I took, I became a little giddier and a little more breathless until I finally reached his office trembling from excitement and anticipation. I was poised to knock when the door opened, and my hand slammed down on his chest. Quick as lightening, he seized my wrist and jerked me inside the office. The quick motion knocked me off my balance, and I fell onto his cast-iron chest. He slammed the door, and the lock fell smoothly into place. He encased me in his arms, and I could barely breathe. His spicy scent filled my sense, and without realizing, I laid my head on his chest. We stayed like that for a long moment. I felt his lips on my hair, and I asked, “How did you know I was outside?” He had no window on his door, thank God. “I didn’t. I was leaving.” I said nothing in return, but to my surprise, he pushed me away. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but tonight at playtime meet me at the nook outside on the other side of the Student Union.” I pulled back and looked into his eyes. “What if we get caught?” His gaze touched me like hot coals on my skin, “We won’t.” I said nothing, and turned to leave. As I reached up to unlock the door, he spun me back around and crushed me into his chest. One hand came up to steady my chin, and his lips mashed down on to mine. The kiss had a bruising force behind it, but it didn’t matter to me because all thought flew out of my mind. All I could focus on was getting closer to him. As soon as the kiss had started, he ended it and quickly ushered me out of the room by the arm. He held on to me a second longer than usual and quietly whispered, “Nook.” We went our separate ways until playtime.
As study hours winded down, I became more and more eager. I had no idea what he had planned, but I found it didn’t matter. I completely trusted him to do whatever to my body and not hurt me. I felt as if every muscle in my body was pulled as tight as a bowstring waiting to be release for that fatal shot. I couldn’t concentrate on my history for fantasizing what it would be like.
Finally, my salvation came. It was finally nine o’clock, and time for my rendezvous. I went to wait at the nook in the freezing night air; it was December and in Arkansas, that meant freezing. I was wearing a sweatshirt and my sexy underwear along with just jeans and tennis shoes. I huddled against the cold building and waited, and waited, and waited. I glanced at my watch: 9:14. I heard footsteps crunching the fall leave like the packing bubbles. My breath caught in my throat as Paul rounded the corner. I sighed and said, “I thought you weren’t coming.” He came to stand right in front of me with on hand behind his back and the other held out to me. I took his hand, and he lifted me to my feet.
He immediately held me in a bone crushing bear hug and kissed me. I felt his hand go into his pocket before coming entangle itself my hair. I began to nibble on his lower lip asking for admittance. He roughly pulled my head back to reach my neck. The pain of him pulling my hair was a strange pleasure at the playful roughness. My back hit the rough, brick wall, and I felt the coldness through my clothes. I felt the ever-present jolts of electricity race through my body when his cold hand came to rest on my belly. I reached to take of my shirt, but Paul was too impatient. The sound of the material ripping was made me jump. When the cold air hit my bare breasts, my nipples instantly became pebbles.
“Um, nice.” Paul’s voice was unlike anything I had ever heard before. It was mix of pleasure, pain, admiration, and something I couldn’t quite name. He pulled away from the kiss, and I leaned into nibble on his neck. I drank in his heady scent; it was best smell I had ever smelled. I pulled open his shirt and began to rub all over his chest. The valleys and hard muscles of his chest seemed to fascinate me; I couldn’t get enough of them. I could feel my woman’s honey begin to coat between my legs. His warm tongue lapped at my nipples, and I heard myself moan.
Cold air touched where my pants had been zipped only moment ago. His now warm hands coaxed my pants and underwear down my legs. I kicked them off along with my slip on shoes. If we were caught now, there would be no question as to what we were doing. That made me even more aroused. “Please, now.” I heard myself whisper. He only laughed and dragged me to the ground.
Instead of coming face to face with me, he began kissing and teasing my belly with his teeth and tongue and lips. Even more unimaginable feelings coursed through my body causing my fingers to enmesh themselves in his hair. I could feel every single taste bud, every grove, and it was driving me wild. Paul’s smell had changed into a muskier, more masculine smell, and I drank it in like a starving man. The pleasure it invoked made me dizzy.
Paul moved even farther down my body until my hands lost their grip, and his head was at the juncture of my thighs. I heard him smile, and then he gently blew a hot stream of air into my sexual haven. I lost my breath. Then, his tongue found me. It felt as if velvet sand paper was being rubbed between my legs. I could not find my breath. My back arched instinctively to give him better access. I felt a thousand sensations all at once, and when he began to suck on my clit, I felt as if someone had lit dynamite inside of me.
I heard myself scream his name as the explosion took place. I felt as if I was flying. In a split second it was over. I lay there for many moments trying to catch my breath. I smiled like the Cheshire cat. I felt a want to do something I had never wanted to do before. I pushed him over onto his back and straddled him. “My turn.” I said in a voice I had never heard come out of my mouth. It was raspy and thick at the same time. I freed the button on his pants, and the zipper went down on its own, because of the immense pressure that he was putting on it. I began to mock the way he licked down my belly, pausing to run a few circles around his belly button. I liked the fact I was in control of the situation, and it was his hands in my hair because of the pleasure I was causing instead of the other way around.
He helped me pulled off his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang out hard. I took it in my hand and just held it. It felt like a piece of silk over hot iron. I slowly pulled my hand up and down letting just my fingers graze it. The gasps I was drawing from his mouths sent shivers of pleasure throughout my body. I balanced on my knees between his legs and leaned down to used the breath trick he had used on me. I had milked some white pre-cum from him which I promptly licked away. I heard him moan, and I licked from the bottom his shaft all the way to the top to get the next droplet. Too excited to wait any longer, I closed my lips over the head, and began working him with my tongue. I rubbed it with my tongue, making sure every inch had had enough attention. Satisfied that I could move I took as much into my mouth as I could, only stopping when it hit the back of my throat. I rolled my tongue using different pressures, and I finally began to suck. I could taste the salty sweetness of his pre-cum in my mouth along with the delicious taste of his skin on my tongue. Without expecting it, he exploded in my mouth. His juices were the best tasting thing I had ever had the pleasure of tasting, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. I swallowed.
I straddled his chest again, and we just laid there content for a while. I checked my cell phone for the time. I was twenty minutes late going inside, but what a twenty minutes. We both wordlessly got up and got dressed. “Good-night, Paul.” I said softly not really knowing what to say. I was shocked that I had done what I had done. I didn’t feel cheap or like a whore, but I still couldn’t believe it. “Wait,” he said his voice tender. He grabbed me by the arm and turned me around to give me a hug, “I have something for you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. Inside was a small, plain gold ring with no stone.
“Will you wear it as a promise ring?” I stared at the box then back at him. I said nothing, but took the ring and placed it on my left ring finger.


THE END