As always, I can't pull my eyes off of you. You sit there, in the front row, smiling at our befuddled professor. You cross your legs, smooth silk thigh caressing one another. I watch tiny beads of sweat gather on our teachers brow. Do you have any idea how your flirtations affect me? Probably not, I sit here silently, hating how this man dotes on you. Hating you for letting him see your hard nipples rubbing against that impossibly soft angora sweater. I can tell by the gently movement of your chest that you are braless... but then when have you ever worn a bra to physics class? You pull the hem of your skirt up slightly, pretending to pull an imaginary thread you have found there.
He stutters, captivated by your actions, I squirm in my seat, trying to alleviate the pressure that fills my crotch.
Somehow I manage to make through the class without screaming at you.
How can you act this way? How can you be oblivious to the torture you
are inflicting? I gather my books and cram them into my knapsack. I am
the first to leave the over heated lecture hall. I need to feel the
winter air beating the lust out of me, as I walk across campus to the
dining hall. I bury myself in thoughts of your indiscretions, as I
stomp my way through the crunching snow. Twilight settles quickly in
the January of Massachusetts. I am pushed roughly from behind into the
big oak we use to sit under in the fall of our freshman year. Your eyes
meet mine, and they mirror the anger and fire I have for you. "Do you
like watching him look at me? Does it make you hot, imagining him
fucking me?" She accuses/inquires of me in a hiss. I feel tears gather
in the corners of my eyes, and she is immediately contrite. She takes
my hand and moves it between her legs, my fingers sliding to the wet
heat there. "Don't you know? Why can't you understand? This is for you,
my hot cunt, my mouth, my body... the way my nipples ache because they
are so hard... all of this is for you." There are desperate tears in
her voice as she pleads with me to accept the truth she offers. Small
cold fingers work there way between my legs, pushing up the long wool
skirt I wear. Insistently, they push away the damp panties they
encounter. Icy tendrils of lust slip between my slick cunt lips and I
gasp with pleasure. I am enthralled, a deer in the headlights of the
feelings she is creating. I forget that we are standing in the middle
of the college lawn. I can only concentrate on her fingers, probing and
circling my dripping flesh. I pant in delight and panic, short bursts
of steam escape my mouth into the darkening winter air. Unbelievable
words leave my proper schoolgirl mouth. "Please fuck me, please..." I
beg her for release. It may be wrong, I may be going to hell, but right
now as her fingers dance on my clit and the cold winter air stings my
face, I don't care. And she does fuck me, exploring me quickly, laying
claim to territory that she has always desired, but always has been
forbidden to her. My legs quiver as I feel burst of heat move between
us. My clit is a black hole drawing every ounce of emotion I own down
into the epicenter of my lovers touch. As my body jerks in its first
true orgasm, her mouth captures mine, sealing our fate. I remember my
fingers are still nestled between her labia, and I give her clit a
gentle stroke, a promise of what I will learn to do for her. A soft
moan of salvation escapes her. And I kiss her full on the mouth in
acceptance and admittance that she is my lover.
redcord
The Masturbation page
The Masturbation page
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