Just Her Type

He was the epitome of type.

Just the type for intellect. For conversation. For love, and hate and happiness. And of things indescribable to anyone else. He always looked good, like a boy who was dressed nicely, and who afterwards grew into a man who knew more than anything else how to take care of himself. His clothes were dark, nicely laundered, and he always smelt vaguely of soap, but not the cheap perfumey kind that made her gag. His mind was very appealing as well, something she would have been content to observe for hours. He was just the type.

Just the type for her.


There was however; one small catch. He was one of her teachers. Mark Ankeller. English had never been so sexy, so invigorating, as it was when he taught it, weaving in and out of the subject matter like it was nothing. He loved words, and strung them together with a sort of effortlessness that rivaled on arousal. When he would read, his voice would drop to seductively low levels that would work her into a new state of antsy, her breath would catch and her eyes would find the floor so as not to reveal her thoughts to him. More than once, she excused herself to go to the restroom, spreading her legs once safely in the stall, and pretending that it was his fingers ravaging over her hungry slit, that his mouth, which so poetically rang out with the lines of Shakespeare and Orwell, would slowly work out those words on her clit, the subtle fluctuations in his mouth and tongue causing her peak to crash around him.

It never helped that his room was always warm, and therefore highly conducive to fantasy. It was easy to imagine his breath on her neck, slowly trailing up before arriving on her own lips. Sucking her essence into him. Taking her.

Once she dreamed that he had her up against the blackboard. Actually, it was technically a marker board, blackboards long since being linked as the source of many classroom allergens and an annoyance to teachers what with the dust. But anyways, he had her against the marker board, holding her by the shoulders, breathing deeply. He did a slow sweep of her body with his eyes, arriving on her face with them slightly veiled under the edge of his eyebrows.


He said her name quietly, not a whisper, but not yet a hiss, a low animalistic sound. He slackened his grip on her shoulders, brushing light fingertips against her face, drawing over her nose to the bow of her lip, and tracing the curve out to the corner of her mouth. He brought his thumb back across her bottom lip, fuller than the top. Her breath was highly uneven.

"Does it bother you when I caress you like this?"

She exhaled a little more forcefully than she would have liked, he was such a dominating presence. "No… I wouldn't say it bothers me."

He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, with a barely there tilt of the head.

"What does it do then? If not make you uncomfortable?" There was a curiosity in his voice, but underneath that? Could it maybe be a hint of playfulness?

"I would say that it… Makes me nervous."

He was quick with his rebuttal "Nervous how? Does it give you a sense of trepidation?" She shook her head slowly, finding herself not able to hold the intensity of his gaze. No, trepidation was definitely not what she was feeling, it was more like---

"Or is more like excitement?"

At this, she found the tiniest quiver of a voice. "Yes, that would be a good word for it." She smiled, and felt joy at the fact that she could hear it returned in his voice.

"Well, what about when I touch you more like this?" His fingers, his thumb traced down her chin, lightly streaming waves down her neck, playing over the collarbone and disappearing into the not-so-unintentional cleavage. Her breath caught again, and her reluctantly locked knees gave a little, forcing her back fully against the board.

He stepped closer to her, one leg sliding gently in between her spread ones, she felt the fabric of his nice black slacks against her inner calf, his body heat adding to her own. He cupped her face, and pressed his chest too hers.

Unfortunately, that was approximately the time she woke. It had continued slightly throughout her waking moments, a brief flash of hands on breasts, and a sigh that turned into a moan. Then she had to wake from bed, and during the following shower saw fit to hold the hand-held shower head against her already wet and sopping cunt. She had not bothered to hide the subject of her desire as she moaned and cried his name during the resultant orgasm.


The next few days passed, with nothing terribly exciting happening, save for the fact that Mr. Ankeller wore her favorite navy blue button-up one day. Then, about a week later, she found herself daydreaming about his hands--- particularly his hands, she never seemed to get into it enough to imagine anything else, she just got too swept up in all the feelings---when the unimaginable happened.

Having an off period at the end of the day had extraordinary benefits. When Willow had nothing to do, but had to stay after school for anything, she would go to Ankeller's room and do things for him. Little things, nothing too risky, mind you. She would occasionally run to the library and try as hard as possible to get just the right book for him. When he asked for Much Ado About Nothing, she came back with that, The Taming of the Shrew, A Midsummer Night's Dream and what she gauged to be an excellent biography on William. If he asked for a particular poet, say Anne Sexton, she would arrive happily with her collected works---highlighted and summarized---and also some Sylvia Plath, after all, they had similar styles and were reputedly lesbian lovers.

Soon she was getting him coffee, and from there began to grade, he gave her the utmost of compliments one day and told her she was one of the most gifted and thorough of any he had ever taught. If nothing else, she simply enjoyed being around him and his radius.

It was on such a day that their first vague spark occurred. She sat in his chair, digging for an answer key that he had laid about somewhere (honestly, for someone so poetic, with such genius, the man couldn't keep track of something to save his life). After rummaging about the papers and various writing tools, shuffling the pamphlets and plays, even searching hopelessly under the phone and keyboard, she was forced to conclude it was not there. She looked towards the door anxiously, he had left the room for some thing or another, but had not said where to. She leaned back in his chair, allowing the soft black leather to engulf her, smelling the chair, smelling him. She gazed around the room, at the posters, no doubt all given to him by the admin and district suit types. But then, he also had some art. Nothing too rare, some Dali, The Girl with a Pearl Earring. There was a gorgeous shot of a bridge with a fabulous sunset behind it on the far wall. Some place he had traveled to, perhaps? She moved on. He had music on his shelf, mostly jazz and classical, the occasional opera and a collection of songs of the Oboe, which he had apparently played in his high school band.

She was drifting slowly, here, in his chair. With the sunlight wafting through the window, her body was heating, she absentmindedly removed her over shirt, leaving a brief but modest tank top of dark blue-green. She nestled back into the leather and inhaled his scent, now mingling with her own. It was intoxicating. Just the right blend of man and woman, when she suddenly found her hands touching herself, only it was not her, it was his fingers pulling at the soft satiny fabric of her panties. His knuckles that brushed the inside of her thigh as the underwear were pushed aside. He rubbed her gently, then not so gently, perched on the edge of the chair---peacefully, blissfully massaging her troubles away.

A handle turning, the metallic click of a door being opened, and Willow pulled back to the present, out of herself. There was a moment of peace before he walked back into the room, looking thoughtfully as her heart dropped into her throat.

He sensed her watching him, and pulled himself out of the note he was reading. Looking up, he offered a sort of half-smile. "Something wrong?"

She awoke fully from her mystified stupor and looked into his face. "No, not really, but I can't find that grading key for the Candide test. I'm not going to be much use without it."

"No, trust me, you're a life saver." He smiled and looked at her with a sort of intimate glow. "Did you try up here on the cabinet?"

He walked around the front of the desk and reached up. In the split second of him looking away from her, she noticed exactly how the front of his pants fell around him, how the fabric draped his frame. His shirt pulled and lifted ever so slightly, revealing smooth skin that she very much desired to rub her face on. She forced this thought to the back of her head as his extended arm retracted, answer key in hand.

"Here it is---" He let out a noise of surprise as the packet fell to the ground.

"Don't worry I'll get it," she spoke, as he leaned down with an apologetic "I'm sorry."

She got down on her knees, reaching forward for the key, before his hand appeared on top of it. She couldn't withdraw her fingers from touching the back of his hand. It was soft and the fingers were long and thick, perfect for reaching those sensitive spots she could never rouse with her own. The thought sent chills through her. She raised her head to look at him, the edge of the desk just barely blocking his forehead, with an apology at the ready, when she realized he wasn't looking at her face. His gaze was mellow and timid, his focus trailing gently into the soft folds of her breasts. He gave the smallest of smiles before standing back up and clearing his throat.

"Well, thank you for doing this. Here's the key." He extended his arm and gently placed the papers into her hand. There was a pause of just the two looking at each other, a muted understanding of the gentility of what had just happened. It was not threatening to either of them, just a simple quiet exchange.


She pounded at herself furiously. A soft, gel-like blue vibrator buzzing away happily at the entrance to her slit, she arched as the water from the showerhead above fell onto her clit, arousing her more and more as the vibrator waxed and waned in and out of her pussy.

She was thinking solely about the look on his face, that tender almost possessive look that said all she wanted to hear and more. His eyes, still hard and omniscient, but questioning as if looking into her soul for the answers. His hair, short but not too short, running through her fingers, so clean and tempting. His mouth, those lips, the way he clenched his teeth ever so slightly when thinking. Everything.

She then shifted his face to in between her legs, licking her most inner, unbelievably sensitive thigh. Nipping playfully at the skin there, before wrapping those arms, with just the hint of muscles at the forearm, around her hips and inhaling her scent with his eyes closed. It was carnal and ridiculously arousing. He flicked his tongue against her nub and watched her eyes as she squirmed in pleasure. He smiled into her and held her open as he slipped his tongue into her slippery folds. He let out a seductive moan as she clawed at the edges of the tub, arching her back further, panting heavily as he licked her, tongued her---

As the water pulsed harder on her, the low buzz oscillating---

He dragged his nails into her hips, licking and running his facial hair over her---

"Oh God, Mr. Ankeller I'm---"

"Coming!" She yelled as her hips gave a violent jerk against his face, him smiling, licking her up and down. Into a frenzy that she hoped would never end. He stroked her lightly as she---

Slowly caught her breath, eyes adjusting to the horrible beige ceiling of her bathroom. It was fleeting and unstable, but for a moment she thought she could smell him near. His soap and light cologne, his body. Wishful thinking, she knew. But it comforted her as she forced herself to standing, and turned off the water.


The next few days would probably have been awkward if not for the feeling of peace she had. This confirmation of her feelings. That he felt something for her, at least sexually if nothing else. She smiled every time she walked into his room, imagined his hands on her, on her body, touching her, caressing her. Even just when he handed back her homework. Fireworks.

One day she was hanging around during seventh, waiting for him to get back from his afternoon coffee break (without which he would begin to talk extremely fast, and pace back and forth anxiously) a state which surprisingly enough did not make him less appealing. The door opened and she turned to watch him as he came into the room.

"Hey, Willow. How's the vibe today?"

"I'm feeling pretty good, how about yourself?"

"Definitely good, the weather is great. So, any quandaries or conundrums for me today?"

She thought for a second, the only thing that came to mind fell around the lines of 'can I run my hands up and down your body', but that didn't seem quite appropriate. So she just shook her head. He walked over to his desk and began shuffling through papers and folders. It was quiet for a minute, and Willow went back to distracting herself at the filing cabinet slightly behind his desk. She slid open a drawer and examined the books resting inside. He stirred behind her slightly, sitting down.

The corner of her mouth tilted up happily, he had such force behind him. There was another moment, she dug out a poem, very lengthy, by the name of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and began to skim through it as he let out a quiet curse behind her.

"Dammit, left my pen in the lounge…"

He stood up and turned to sidle behind her. He laid one of his large, tempting hands on her waist, meaning to slide right by her. As he stepped around her back, she couldn't help but lightly rub herself onto him. It was a slow motion, sensuous and full of intent. She couldn't help but blush, feeling the instant danger of what she had just done, but felt it dissipate away as he paused, hand still on her hip, as he apparently felt the emotion behind her action. She was shocked and relieved as he moved forward uncertainly, placing his left hand on her other hip, slowly leaning over her shoulder, craning his neck, pausing slightly inches away, before placing his lips fully onto hers.

She let her breath catch in her throat, and pulled away ever so slightly out of exuberant amazement. She looked into his eyes, so uncertainly sure of her, and yet so full of desire, of understanding. She turned ever so slightly towards him and kissed him once more over her shoulder, pulling him into her with her mind, welcoming him. He touched her gently on the face with his fingertips, beckoning to her through her skin. Into her very core.

She turned to him fully now, leaving her hands to wander around his back. She rested them in the small arch there, and pulled into his skin, underneath a soft, black sweater, feeling the luxurious fabric move under her fingers. He kissed her more fully now, inviting her into his mouth, into him. An offer she couldn't possibly refuse.

Their tongues met slowly, entwining and gliding gently over each other. He brought his hands to her head, and cradled her face in his hands, leaning down to her, running his fingers over her neck. She breathed into him, feeling him. Wanting every inch of him.

"My knees are weak." Was all she could muster when they pulled apart. Agonizingly.

"Here," he took her hand in his own, making her feel very small next to him, "Sit on the desk."

He didn't need to help her up, but he held her lightly as she clambered up onto the desk, feeling not nearly as graceful as she would have liked. He stood in front of her, thoughtlessly in between her faintly spread legs, just watching her face, flushed and excited. She looked back at him, at the look in his eyes. His conflict between rationality and lust. She knew which path she wanted him to take.

She reached up to him, took his face in her cupped hands and brought him to her, breath quivering vaguely with excitement. He let his forehead meet hers and stood quietly, looking into her eyes at the extreme angle of their faces. He half-sighed, half-moaned. "Are you okay? I don't want to rush you."

She smiled and regained some confidence when she answered "I have wanted this for a long time. I couldn't feel any better if I tried."

He seemed relieved and nodded, brushing his fingertips down her chest. He turned his focus on her breasts, still covered torturously, and had a look of euphoria. He appeared as though he could be a teenager again, losing his virginity to a girl like it was some delicate thing. He cupped her breasts in his hands, with those beautiful long fingertips and wonderful palms, and rubbed her in muted circles. Up and down. Around and around. She blushed intensely as he brought his thumb to the outside of her breast, squeezing her, rubbing her into a slaked sort of happiness. He leaned forward as he did this, gliding the tip of his tongue, soft and pink up her neck, encircling and eventually bringing his lips around her earlobe. His fingers found her nipples, now protruding almost painfully, and gave her a gentle tug.

He let her ear go and repositioned his mouth. "Willow…" He whispered to her, sending over the edge of arousal. She was now in a state of extreme lust for him. For them. For now. She leaned back onto her elbows, offering her panty-clad cunt to him. Wiling him on. She watched with lidded eyes as he gazed at her, leaving one hand on her breast and bringing the other to her lips. He ran his fingers up and down her delicately, feeling her, learning her contours. His lips parted, and for the first time, she saw the hint of the animal in him. The manly, dominating force that was his yearning. He circled her clit between his thumb and forefinger, thoroughly soaking her already wet panties, and let out a very aroused sigh.

"As much as I want this," he began, raising his eyes to meet hers. She did not doubt his words, for she could see the want clearly in his face. "There is a better time and place."

As if on cue, the bell that signified the daily stampede of escape rang true. She could understand his words rather clearly though, as he lowered his voice.

"Come to my house, sometime tonight. It's 823 Verde Parkway. Do you know where that is?"

She shook her head, and listened intently as he gave her very detailed directions. The way did not sound complicated, and already she could feel the butterflies in her stomach, dancing a happy flutter of anticipation. "What time?" was all she could muster, sliding off the desk, her butt rather sore.

"Any time you think you can safely make it. I don't want anything to happen to you because of me."

"It won't be until after midnight."

"Be that as it may, make sure you can come without any problems."

There was a pause before they both realized the rather dirty pun he had just made, they smiled at each other and exchanged a brief kiss right before the door opened, a passing student inquiring about the reading material. She glided past him, a hopeful, gorgeous feeling filling her to her peak. Anxious for midnight to arrive.


She made it out the window no problem. Now just to take that very terrifying step into the tree, then down the bark into the bed of grass next to the house, about where inside the house her dining table would be. She made this with slight strain, and readjusted her skirt with the will of a lady before walking in the shadows to the car.

She got in quietly, and kept the lights off until she made it down the street. From there she followed his directions with a sort of determined willfulness. She passed coffee shops and fast food places, the building inside of which they had shared the most pleasurable of kisses, a field. She kept driving until she turned onto a small suburban street that seemed somewhat out of place with the world around it. The houses were quiet and dark, the inhabitants sleeping or otherwise making use of the darkness, still air came through the open window and brushed her face lightly with coolness.

She knew immediately which house was his, and honestly, he could not have made it look more inviting. The garage was open, revealing his simple black car and an assortment of interesting things. The light in the front window was on, but not glaring, as if he had one of those dimmers you always saw in movies, cranked down almost as low as could be. His yard was neat, but not ridiculously so, just like he himself was.

She pulled into the driveway, leaving respectable room for his car, not making it appear as if they were too chummy. Getting out, she sensed a ray of light brightening the way in front of her, and upon looking for the source, found him standing in the doorway, holding his torso slightly out at her.

She instinctively checked her watch, 1:34.

"I was starting to think you'd never get here." He said, making himself vulnerable. She was glad for this, otherwise her emotions would get the better of her. She smiled.

"I was too."

He smiled and leaned on the door frame as she approached him, looking her not too subtly up and down. "You look amazing."

"Thank you. I try." She grinned again, stepping across the threshold as he invited her inside. He immediately offered to take her coat, and she relented, handing it to him and watching as he hung it on a hook on a nearby door.

It was a very homey room, the lamp dimmed as she had suspected to a nice glow. The walls weren't exactly white, but they weren't not white, it was sort of a cream color. All of the furniture was sleek black leather, just like his computer chair. The couch in particular looked so inviting, she wanted to take her top off and lay chest down on it, rubbing his scent and her skin all over the fine soft leather until it became warm with the heat of her body. Needless to say she resisted. There was a hallway out of the room to the back of the house, while she currently stood in a small hallway running the opposite way to a closed door. The kitchen was opposite them, no door, just an archway into the modest space. The carpet gave a pleasant sigh beneath her feet.

He stood facing her a moment, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped forward slightly, again reminding her of a much younger man. She looked into his face, the eyes, the scruffy but well kempt beard, his nose, which looked as though it might have been broken once long ago. He smiled at her, and then, brushing the hair lightly out of her eyes he led her over to the couch that looked oh-so-tempting. As she sunk into the cushions, she felt all the tension leave her body. Well, almost.

He took the seat directly next to her, an action that couldn't be mistook considering the fact that it was a three-person sofa. He watched her a moment, apparently gauging her actions and reactions before speaking. "Well, I imagine you have some questions for me."

She gazed back at him. She wanted to know everything about him, where to begin?

"How old are you?" Was the first thing that came out, maybe a little forcefully.

He gave a laugh, "A very sensible question, considering what I hope will happen here." He smiled at her, which took her off-guard. She was expecting him to be a little upset at her oddness. "I'm thirty-six. And yourself?"

"Seventeen and a half."

There was a pause. They both did the math in their heads, and reached the same conclusion at the same time.

"Nineteen years."

It was like a weight, but one that seemed to matter less and less with every passing second, like the feeling you got when a new, interesting fact was learned. That's all it was… Interesting. She found her breath again. "What's your middle name?"

"Scott. Same question."


"You're parents are free-spirited then? Willow May?"

"A little bit… Speaking of names, what am I supposed to call you? Mr. Ankeller is a bit much."

He returned her thoughtful expression with one of his own. "I suppose call me by my first name. Mark."

She nodded, and then thought for a moment. "What's the difference between morals and ethics?"

He seemed very pleased by this question. "I love the way your mind works, Willow. Always surprising me." He thought for a moment, looking out across the room with a contemplative look on his face. "To that I would say that a moral man knows he shouldn't cheat on his wife, but an ethical man actually wouldn't."

"Or be involved with a student?" She hinted.

"Well, I never did profess to be an ethical man. Although, I have considered very heavily the actions here. Their consequences. Everything."

She lost a bit of her confidence here, wondering. "And?"

"I've decided that, for once in my life, I'm going to do what I'd like, rather than what I should do."

Her heart soared.


They sat at his table, finishing a very good meal, he had had some Chinese leftovers in the fridge that tasted much better than they smelled. He stood, taking the plate from in front of her with a gentlemanly air, and walked into the kitchen. Anxious to move, to act, she stood and followed him. He stood at the sink, water running, rinsing the plate with the faucet. Nice and old fashioned.

She felt compelled to touch him, to make sure she really stood in his house late at night, him feeding her. Extending her arms, she allowed her hands to find his waist, from there traveling around to the front of him. She pressed herself against his back, feeling very safe, very soft next to his rugged body. Her fingers ran over his stomach, muscular but not defined, and the to his chest. He had stopped moving, apparently lost in the feelings of her hands, of her body pressed into his. He took her hands in his, pulling them up to his mouth, where he nibbled lightly on the tips of her fingers, taking them into his mouth, caressing her with his tongue. She closed her eyes, getting thoroughly enveloped in the moment, loving the sensation he gave her. She felt him turn to her, felt his legs brushing hers, felt him kissing her palms down to her wrists.

Then he brought their hands down, placing her hands to his chest, pulling her to him even more. Her wrists were pinned in between him and her breasts as he began to kiss her again, dipping into her mouth with his tongue. Their tongues met, and he wrapped his arms around her neck, loving her body. She balanced on the tips of her toes, the better to reach him, and ran her fingers all around his chest and neck.

He pulled back hesitantly. Watching her face, looking for some register of expression as he asked. "We should get off of our feet, I assume you're going to join me?"

She nodded, feeling the already extreme anticipation mounting, galloping in her stomach. He took her hand in his and led her down the hall away from the garage, into the left hand door.


His room seemed to suit him well. There were lots of dark colors, his bedspread was navy, his curtains black. All the furnishings, the nightstand, the chest of drawers, the book shelf were all a dark reddish wood. The bed frame was a shadowy wrought iron.

He led her to his bed, through the center of the room and around the left side. She could tell this was where he slept, there was a worn-down grayish rug on the floor where he would no doubt step out of bed every morning accompanied by a slight indentation of his body in the mattress. The covers here were slightly more rumpled than they were on the other side.

He let out what sounded like an awfully anxious sigh. She sat down facing him, still holding his hands, and looked up into his face inquiringly.

He looked back. "From this point on, I'm not going to be able to control myself. I am just not that strong," He brushed the hair lightly out of her face with a loving manner. "So if you don't want to do this, say so now."

She looked up at him. His face, his eyes. His body. His mind. She shook her head and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her. He quickly knelt on the floor in front of her, continuing the kiss from the kitchen, savoring in it. It continued through their bodies, out the bed, and into the floor. The connection which they reveled in.

He wrapped his right arm around her back, leaving the left to sit on her knee as he pulled her closer to him, claiming her. His kiss intensified then, his lips becoming more hungry, more impassioned. He breathed into her, filling her to the breaking point with eroticism. As she found her way to his chest again, she delicately pressed her nails into him, not to the point of pain, but with a definite arousal. He entwined the fingers on the hand working its way steadily up her back into her hair, pulling her ends with a teasing fondness. She found the top button of his shirt with her fingers, and unfastened it quickly. Sensing her motions, he looked down to watch her momentarily, then deciding her mouth was more interesting, went back to sweetly ravaging it. She made quick work of the soft black button-up, lustfully stroking the flesh underneath with the passing of each clasp. As she finally revealed his chest and his stomach, she ravished in the pleasure of running her hands fully up and down his torso, so soft yet ridiculously masculine.

He very much approved of this, and showed so by gently biting into her lower lip with the hint of a moan in his voice. He stood and lifted her easily before laying her back, fully flat on his bed. He moved with the agility of a man fifteen years his junior as he leapt on top of her, holding his legs over her own. He smiled down at her.

"Willow…" He muttered into her ear, just before taking it into her mouth, encouraging her to new heights of pleasure.

She returned his sentiment by running her fingers through his hair, tilting her head back to allow better ease to her neck. He took the cue and focused his attention lower, licking slowly up and down her neck while intermittingly nipping at her flesh. Her breath intensified here, his mouth urged her on while the short-cropped hairs on his chin tickled at her. Her hands floated up the back of his shirt, feeling the smooth skin there, tracing swirls of desire onto his body.

He pulled away from her slowly, sitting up over her, he reached down and tugged the bottom of her shirt up and over he head, setting it kindly to the side. He gazed at her, her less than modest black and lavender lace bra, her stomach, her neck. Everything. He then looked into her eyes, for just a second, before returning to touching her.

One of the large hands that she loved so much crept up her stomach, caressing her with reassuring touches, and she allowed herself to lapse back into a sleepy seductiveness. He drew circles and lines and squares and ovals, abstract patterns all over her chest with the lightest touch, making her squirm. He began to kiss her again, to calm her, but steadily moved down to kiss the soft swell of her breasts instead. He licked the line where the half-globe of flesh met her chest and hinted down the edge of her bra, kissing and sucking and nipping all the way. She dug her fingernails into the sheets as he blew his breath across her nipple, agonizingly warm and slow, before licking at it with his tongue.

As he pulled away momentarily, she gave a moan of resistance. "Don't stop…" She muttered, tracing his back and neck with her hands. He smiled.

Reaching under her body, he grazed his nose across her collarbone and up her jaw. She barely even noticed as he unclasped her bra and pulled it off of her, nipples fully hardened and waiting. His eyes on fire, he set his mouth around her left nub, his thick full lips causing her to audibly moan in pleasure. He cupped her other breast with his hand and rubbed her back and forth. Circles. He held the breast his mouth had claim of and sucked in a pocket of flesh directly beneath her nipple, taking it between his teeth and running his sweet, sweet tongue over her.

She couldn't help but arch her hips into him, the decadence he was offering her with his mouth. She was only vaguely aware of what her hands were doing, at one moment she was clawing the bed in anticipation, the next they were rubbing his back and chest. He pulled away from her, proceeding to the other breast, leaving the wake of a dark red mark on her skin. Her licked her into a frenzy, one of forbidden fruits and favoritism. She would definitely be applying a new definition to the term 'teacher's pet'.

He licked down her, over her stomach and down to her pants, already slung low from the writhing on the bed, tonguing the jut of hipbone just barely visible on one side.

She whimpered. Her fingers went to his hair as he hooked his teeth around her button, pulling it out in almost no time. He then yanked down the zipper, letting out the first hint of her musk, her heady perfume. He breathed in and out very slowly several times before standing, and kneeling down to remove her slacks. He tugged at the ankles and they gave way like water, slipping off her body with a beautiful ease. He let them drop with a quiet thud to the floor, before taking one ankle in a hand and kissing up her calf. He followed the curvature of her thigh, along the muscle that quivered under his touch and put his mouth around her panties.

The heat was intense, encompassing her like flames, flames in the form of lips. He then crawled back up onto the bed, and touched her face.

"We should lay the other way now." For up until that moment, they had, indeed been lying sideways. They quickly adjusted, her letting her head fall gently onto his pillow, so engrained with his scent she felt like she was bathing in him. He guided her legs apart softly with his fingertips, and hooked them into her panties, on the sides, before tugging them down. He was getting eagerly anxious, she could tell by the way his mouth parted when he saw her. All of her. He let go of her panties and immediately dropped to his forearms, burying his face in her.

She could have screamed, and indeed, did moan rather loudly at this. He smiled from in between her legs and slid one long stroke of his tongue up her sufficiently soaked cunt. Her legs tightened slightly, and he pulled her back open, sliding his palms up and down her thighs.

He slid into her without warning, and she let out a cry of passion. He licked her inside and out, before rubbing her aching clit with his fingers. He rested his head on one of her legs.

"I love the way you moan. It's so primal."

She panted and met his eyes. "I love what you do to my body."

He rubbed circles around her clit, juicy and sweet. "You're very wet. Wetter than I would have imagined you could be. And trust me, that is something I have thought about fully." She moaned again as he teased across her nub with his fingers, fleetingly. He made a figure eight over her, and just barely brushed her sweet spot again. She let her fingers find his neck and shoulders again.

"You're such a tease." She groaned, him scarcely grazing her once more.

He looked deep into her eyes with a possessive smile. "But you're loving it."

One of his fingers then wonderfully inserted itself into her, accompanied by such a cry of relief. He beckoned into her hole, rubbing his tip against the front of her blissfully. He unhurriedly pumped into her, every little motion, every bend of the finger deliberate, working her into a fervor that had her red in the face with just a few strokes. She was panting and moaning now, sounds that increased tenfold as a second finger was added.

He was sliding in and out pleasuring her, when he brought his mouth back to her clitoris. He licked at her, watching her face intensely for what registered the most gratified reactions. He found the spot quickly and sucked it gently, alternating licks and bites as well.

He was riding a wave of orgasm that was about to crash down, and indeed, when he began to flick his tongue left and right over her, rapidly, with much intensity, she could feel that jolt, that tug of her climax. Her nails left crescent moons in his shoulders as she felt her body clench.

"Oh, God… Oh, God! I'm… I'm…"

The rest of her words were lost as she moaned out. Her hips jolted, her toes curled. He stayed on her, somehow, throughout the wave. This sweet release guided by so many unforeseen things. Her orgasm was strong and lasted a good minute of her moaning and screaming, bucking into him. Thanking every deity she knew.


As she came down, he rubbed her thighs, her breasts, her shoulders. Anything to make her happy. She was sopping wet, and he was harder than he had probably ever been.

He crawled up her body, dragging the nice, black fabric of his pants through her juices. He didn't seem to mind though, as he kept kissing her, softly and gently. Tongues and teeth.

He let his forehead settle against hers. "Would you like more?"

She panted and breathed and pulled his body fully onto hers. She looked at him, a whole new spark in her eyes. "I think you know the answer to that question."

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Naturally."

He sat up on his knees then and peeled the dark shirt off. His shoulders were broad and toned. Not muscular, but very strong looking. He stood momentarily, in taking off his belt, pulling it through the loops, and she got a look at his back. It was long and sinewy, his shoulder blades prominent through the deceptively velvety skin.

He turned towards her with a boyish grin on his face, only one corner of his mouth turned upwards. His hair was sticking up slightly in the back, no doubt aided by her efforts, and his shoulders had a few pink slashes from nails. He looked incredible. It became even more so however, as he unzipped his pants. He stepped out of them, revealing silk boxers the exact color of charcoal and also bringing attention to the huge erection he had. Her mouth watered just looking at it. She crept closer to him and watched intensely as he let down the silk, revealing a cock both thick and long.

Her hands went immediately to it, running up the skin of his shaft, he let out a low, breathy moan that spurned her on. She tugged at him gently, signaling her want for him on the bed. He crawled back to her and waited as she laid back down, her body open and ready.

He settled in between her legs, running his fingers over her and over himself too. He coated his fingers in her juices before transferring them to his cock with his hand, getting it slick and ready, glistening like a jewel.

He leaned over her and played with her, running the tip of his head over her clit, and then down her opening, back up. Tantalizingly. She wanted him so bad. With such need, but he was strong in his willpower to savor every moment. Perhaps that was just the kind of thing that came with age.

He slid maybe half an inch into her before taking her hands in his. He brought them above her head, pinning her in a gentle way, and slid into her, tight, sweet and perfectly.

She couldn't help it this time. She moaned as her eyes shut, "Oh, Mark…"

He gasped as he slid fully in. She was deep and tight and perfectly devoured his entire length. Just the visual of his flesh disappearing inside of her was almost enough to send him over the edge, but he stayed strong, not willing to let himself go before her. He grinded against her, filling her, hitting every sweet spot. The passion of it all led her into a dizzied state of wantonness. Of lust. Of everything she knew was 'wrong', but felt so good. He began to pump in and out of her, slowly, each thrust full of intent. Full of satisfying her.

She repeated his name. "Oh. Ah, Mark… How do you know exactly what I like?"

He held her arms still, and kissed her wrists. "Because it's exactly what I like."

She moaned as he began to thrust harder, he felt her clench against him, pulling him in and yet pushing him out at the same time. So tight and wonderful. He bit one of her breasts, licked the nipple, watched her face for signs of anything that gave her gratification.

He devoured her mouth and her legs naturally came up around him. She hooked her ankles above his butt, willing him in even deeper. She moaned and panted and grinded against him as he thrusted.

"Harder." She moaned, and as he hit a little bit deeper, with a little more force, she whimpered. "Oh, yes. Just like that."

He cupped her face, letting her arms free, he kissed her and stroked her breasts. Working them in circles as the headboard began to thump into the wall. She was becoming even more loud, and as they merged further into one being, cried out more.

For the second, glorious time, she felt that wave, only this time, it was stronger. Only this time, she would cause him to come too. To share with him this most intimate of rituals. Her body began to tense and her back arched to ridiculous new angles.

"Mark, oh god, Mark. I'm going to come."

He moaned out loud now, joining her as she panted harder and harder. This only got her going more, and by the time she had said his name again---

"OH GOD!" She climaxed harder than she ever had before. She bucked against his hips, surely knocking dents into the wall, moaning and screaming his name, feeling the release of all that pressure, all those things. Her body ached and melted as she tensed up, jerking back and forth against his cock.

He could not hold it in any longer, she just felt so amazing. He let go too, and filled her with spurts of warmth, her being able to acutely feel every twitch, every muscle spasm. He moaned her name, causing her to moan again. And they slowly began to come down together. He collapsed onto her, willpower to hold himself up gone. She kissed his lips once more, and then stroked his hair, his face, all of him, as they lay, still connected on his bed.

"I want you to know…" He said, rather quietly after several long minutes filled with sighs and exhalations. "That this isn't just a sexual thing with me. I really do think I'm falling for you."

She kissed his forehead at this. "I fell for you a long time ago, I must admit."

He sighed a sigh of relief. "Can you stay the night? I want to sleep next to you and see your body in the sunlight."

She smiled. "All my school things are in my car. I would love to."

They slowly, crawled under the sheets, him finally coming out of her, and melded their bodies together, enjoying a blissful, albeit short night of sleep.