On the Desk with the Best

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‘We always strive after what is forbidden, and desire the things refused us.’ -Ovid

He was 32. I was in college.

There were six or seven of us who stayed back that day; I didn’t count the number exactly. The room was shoved away in a remote part of the school where you only went for class, yet he brightened it, made people want to come. His charisma and quirky personality drew people to him, made them listen to him, even love him.

He was tall, not particularly muscled but well-toned. His hair was a little longer than most other teachers and the darkest, warmest chocolate; a swirl of dark chocolate infused with tiny ribbons of red flowing from his head. He let his stubble grow out and maintained a permanent 5 ‘o’ clock shadow. The same rich scarlet dotted his warm, dark facial hair, making him glow in the sun and catch the tiniest glimmer of a spark in the shadow. I often wondered how it would feel to brush my palm across his face, or better yet… my lips. Would the flame I saw ignite my skin or would it smolder under my touch? I could dream all day about the possibilities. His nose was oddly crooked and his eyebrows didn’t match his hair. He had the odd spot of acne barely visible to anyone but himself. He wasn’t handsome, or even had traditional good looks, but the charisma that oozed from his lips made every girl he spoke to melt.

Every girl wanted him, swooned over his every word. He was eloquent when teaching. It was like his lips had rehearsed and perfected every word, every syllable, and every sound that came from his mouth; a dance of sorts, emanating beauty and grace. His tongue was in perfect harmony with his teeth and lips. The pronunciation of every word was just right. The thick velvet tone crept inside you and made you weak. All attention was on his lips, all of the time. They were full, swollen, and lathered in a smooth layer of moisture, always the perfect consistency. The only thing that gained more attention than his lips, were his eyes. Oh those eyes. They were sharp and assertive and had certain wit about them. His eyes spoke more than his lips ever did. They were blue, deep stormy blue, grey when you first saw them and violet in the sun. Churning and shining, they held a flicker of something not completely innocent, devilish in fact. That flicker of something wicked captivated everyone who looked into those hypnotic eyes. His eyes, and his words, were every girls dream.

Every female student in his class fell in love with his allure. But he never flirted, never led on any student to make them believe they would be anything but his student. He respected his students, and valued his career. He made every girl swoon, and every girl know they couldn’t have him.

The old, damp classroom where I had English soon turned into my favorite place to be in the school. His smooth smile and the mischievous spark in his stormy eyes made everyone want to be in his class, no matter how run down the room. The door creaked when it opened and slammed when it shut, there was an old gas heater in the back of the room that was always cranked up to full, and baby blue curtains laced the top windows like frosting on a cake. There were leather bound books, lined on the edge of his desk, the desk its self the deepest mahogany, and the leather on his chair was worn and fading.

Smiles and laughs filled the old English room, and he sat by my side most of the tutorial. In hand was his coffee, black with three sugars, he must have drunk three a day. Hot chocolate and tea was poured for the rest of the students, and we huddled over our mugs for warmth. Finally night fell and it was time to go home. Our jackets were haphazardly strewn over the coat hanger, placed deliberately in front of the gas heater. I lingered back to arrange my notes joking with him about my upcoming test. He hadn’t moved from my side, but stood when I did and was handing me my books to place in my bag. He reassured me I would do great, as I had done for every other assessment this year, yet the back and forth jokes continued.

He placed his hand on my arm and rubbed it reassuringly. The static electricity from my woolen jumper made the hair in my pony tail stand on its end. He smiled gently and flattened it out, taking his time to run long, slender fingers through my silk hair and down my back. My cheeks blushed and I instinctively faced down, his black suede shoes pointing towards mine. He had never actually touched me before, and the countless hours I spent day dreaming about it didn’t let me down. My whole body burned. My palms started to sweat and my mouth suddenly had too much moisture. I swallowed at least three times in a row. The joking stopped and he nudged closer to me, taking hold of my cheek in his palm. I was sure he could feel the crimson burning in my cheeks, how foolish I must have seemed. He tilted my head gently to face him, his face was a little closer than I expected. Those eyes swirling and teasing were all I could see, but there was something else in them, something I hadn’t seen from him illegal bahis before. They were cheeky like always but somehow seemed coy, like he was debating something inside. I was startled by his proximity but didn’t dare move. I relished his touch and held strong his gaze.

Looking into his eyes once intimidated me, frighten me even, but being in his class for the past year soothed all of my anxiety and replaced it with curiosity, a burning desire to see right into him, just as he was somehow able to see into me.

His lips parted gently, barely enough to breathe and I could smell his deliciously warm, sweet breath. There was the faintest hint of coffee, which he drank methodically, and it was almost like I could smell each of the three sugars too. He had been eating marshmallows, when combined with the coffee and sugar, created a perfectly rich sweet aroma. I breathed in his wonderful breath deeply and fully, as inconspicuously as I could and without thinking nuzzled into his palm on my cheek. He dropped his hand, which startled me, and we both shifted from the dream like state we were in for a second, and for an eternity.

He handed me my last book which I slowly put reluctantly into my bag, closing the zipper painfully slowly. I had dreamed about a touch like that from him for the past year, never believing it would actually happen. The moment ended too soon. I wanted his palm back on my cheek, on my neck, sliding down my back, tracing over my chest… I closed my eyes for a second to remove the thought from my head. He probably meant nothing by it, just a teacher reassuring his student. But oh how it affected me. I shouldn’t have thought such things about him, he was a fantastic teacher, a great man, but something in those eyes; those deep, stormy eyes made me wonder if my fantasy ever would come true. I pulled my bag onto my shoulders, and pulled my pony tail out so it hung free to the left. I turned to face the door, too ashamed to face him and quickly made my escape.

“Don’t forget your jacket, Piper.” My hand released the door handle and I turned to see him by the coat stand holding my jacket for me.

“Oh, yes sir.” I replied, thankful he noticed it. The weather was harsh and the walk back home would have killed me without my jacket. I went to him, dropping my bag near the door. He held the jacket open and I stepped into the warm, soft layers of water proof material. His arms folded around me, wrapping me in my jacket, lingering a little too long around my waist. He dropped them, but didn’t step away. I could feel his breath on my neck; it sent chills down my spine and made every hair on my body stand on end. I slowly, cautiously, turned to face him, careful to not step away in the process. My heart pounded as I looked into those eyes again; those eyes that consumed and twisted and lured me in.

“Thank you sir.” I whispered, sounding desperately innocent and shy. He smiled gently, warmly and lifted his hand to brush stray hairs from my face. His eyes carefully traced the movement of his fingers, and mine vigilantly followed the movement of his.

“For you Piper,” he let his hand fall, “anything.” That charm was irresistible. He could talk his way into anything, anything he wanted he got, because he was so deadly smooth. He moved his face closer to mine. He was a head or so taller than me and crouched slightly to level with my eyes. His were cautious, the playful spark that made his eyes gleam was replaced with intensity and desire. A burning, molten blue that was hotter than fire. His eyes were wide and his lips parted as if he might speak but no sound came out. He closed them again, battling with himself as to what he should say.

“What is it sir?” I sighed, wanting him.

“What do you think of me Piper?” He took a step back slightly.

“What do you mean sir?” I replied, a little taken aback by his question.

“What do you think of me, as your teacher?” The smooth, thick velvet dripped from his lips; his tone playful and honest.

I thought about my answer. I longed for his touch once more and I guessed my answer would be the ultimate decider of that. I stepped into him, unsure of how to react. I tried to be confident and cool but I just seemed awkward.

“I think, you’re the best teacher I have ever had. And absolutely my favorite.” I tried my best attempt at being alluring.

Something in his eyes changed and his lips curled up into a devilish grin. He took the last step remaining between us, pressing his body against mine, supporting my weight with his broad fingers on my lower back. He used his free hand to trace my face, down over my lips, parting them gently. My heart was erratic. My skin burned. It was suddenly too hot in the tiny, old, English room. My insides constricted, imagining what could happen. The rare white hot pressure built between my thighs and made my knees weak.

He leaned down, slowly. So slowly. Looking straight into my eyes, through them and into my core. His were mischievous but cautious, careful and illegal bahis siteleri affectionate. Those eyes, with so much charm and allure, how could I resist? He paused, millimeters away from my lips, I could just feel his stubble rub against my lips. He didn’t blink, didn’t say a word, but lightly brushed his full, smooth lips against mine. His eyes searched mine, waiting for a reaction. I could hardly move. My insides were upside down and churning, burning and wanting. I wouldn’t push him away now. Not after the months of dreaming about feeling his lips against mine. I lifted my hand, a little shakily, and rested it on his cheek and slowly drew my fingers through his stubble, just as I had imagined so many times before. He grinned, broad and wicked. His teeth were pristine white and his lips curled, rising at one end to form a crooked smile. I breathed in his deliciously sweet breath and attempted a smile back, but stomach was doing flips, so a smile was hard to manage.

“Mmm.” He murmured before crushing his lips against mine. One hand was pressing my body against his, and the other was delicately pulling the band from my hair. I wrapped myself around him, desperately wanting more. The white hot fire between my thighs grew and constricted and consumed everything in its path. Somehow kissing and tasting him wasn’t enough, I needed to meld myself into him, and I tried doing so by tightly drawing him near.

He parted my lips gracefully with his tongue, pushing it skilfully into my mouth and, in a slow reply, I did the same back to him. His tongue brushed the edges of my teeth and pushed playfully against mine. While doing this, he expertly slid one hand in my jacket and somehow pulled me out of it, quicker than he put it on. I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my hands around his neck and held him as close as I could, melding my mouth onto his. His body was firm and warm and I swallowed up every glorious moment I was in his arms.

His hands and fingers were all over my body, ravishing, searching and taking. He had pulled my jumper off and dropped on a nearby desk, placing it on top of the jacket. I slid my hands inside his blazer and gently tugged his shirt out from his black pants. He growled almost inaudibly, low and guttural, and I felt the vibrations tickle my increasingly sensitive skin. He didn’t need any more of a hint and swiftly threw his blazer to the growing pile of clothes on the desk. I needed more of him. Something greater than myself took over, something primal, something I had never experienced before. It was hot and cold and fast and slow. Consuming and insane, but the best feeling I have ever experienced, and ever will.

His lips were at my throat. Pressing and sucking and licking. My knees went weak as I leaned into his kiss. He was rough and passionate one moment and delicate and graceful the next. He drove me crazy. His fingertips, the very ends traced from my ear, down my neck, over my shoulders to where my blouse buttons started. He was so gentle in his touch, yet so passionate and eager with his mouth. That mouth that was so eloquent and charming, oh that mouth had completely swallowed me up. I leaned backwards and let out a soft sigh as he skilfully undid one button at a time. He started cautiously, waiting for me to protest. How could I when my thighs were burning and yearning and wanting to be ripped apart? I pushed my shoulders back as he slid my blouse off, searching my body with his eyes.

I had never seen them so greedy, so hungry and completely sincere at the same time. My nipples hardened in response. They brushed against my white lace bra, again making the hair all over my body stiffen. His eyes smiled approvingly and the same low guttural growl released from his throat made me shiver. They had a wicked flare, but something was holding him back. Something was troubling him. I held his face in my hands, searching his expression for an answer.

“What is it?” I asked after a few longer drawn out seconds.

“I shouldn’t be doing this to you Piper. I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this.” He placed his hands on my waist, tracing the top of my skirt while doing so. His eyes had finished consuming my body but I sensed he wanted more.

“You’re hardly taking advantage of me sir.” I could hardly believe the cliché.

“Have you ever been with anyone else?” He asked. I knew he had, he talked about previous girlfriends and conquests in class sometimes, and it just made him that much sexier.

“Not many,” I replied, wanting him on my list.

“Do you want to be with me?” He asked, rubbing his fingers over my waist and lower back, comforting me.

“Of course I do.”

“Please tell me now if you don’t. I don’t want to pressure you.” His fingers continued up my body over my hips and rested on my shoulder blades, just above the clasp on my bra.

“I do, sir.” My reply seemed so meek I hardly believed it. I was nervous, sure, but I had never felt so ready for anything in my life. He smiled gently and wickedly.

“God canlı bahis siteleri I love it when you call me sir.” He drew me near, embraced me firmly, kissed my forehead and took my hands.

He guided me over to his desk; he pushed all the objects from it and then turned back to me. His hands were in my hair, latching my face to his, and he kissed me fiercely. His hands ran down my neck to my bra clasp, and he unlatched it with one hand. I leaned forward so it would fall, as he guided it off. He sighed, deeply, and quickly placed his warm hands over my breasts. He exhaled, almost like all his tension was now released and squeezed and rubbed me passionately. His hands were soft and strong, writer’s hands; they were expertly crafted to perform beautiful poetic art forms. His fingers were long, and they caressed me, growing rougher and more eager as he continued. I closed my eyes as my breathing became heavier, and the rise and fall of my chest was choreographed perfectly to match the rhythm of his glorious fingers. He brushed his thumb over my erect left nipple, and reached down latching his mouth around the other. I didn’t think it possible but the apex of my thighs continued to twitch and convulse, desperate for his touch.

I reached forward, and blindly found his broad chest with my palms, and slowly, but precisely undid every one of his buttons. He leaned forward a little so I could reach his broad chest more easily as he assaulted my breasts with his hands and tongue. He pushed me back smoothly until my upper thighs were level with his mahogany desk. He quickly moved his hands down to my waist and lifted me up so I was sitting on the very edge. He parted my legs and pressed himself against me, pushing my long skirt up around my hips. I felt hot wet moisture rub between him and me. I pushed his shirt off and had no idea how defined he really was. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was hard and well established. He had a tattoo on the left side of his torso, midway up that read

‘Semper appetere, quae interdicta et nollet nos appetendum’ – Ovid

His lips were on my breasts again, sucking, kissing and playing. He stroked my nipples with his tongue all while taking off my stockings and shoes. He really did use my breasts exactly how he wanted, and I was at his mercy. He hands slid up my thighs stroking me, caressing me. They relaxed to his touch with firm, long strokes and made me constrict spontaneously. I lay back on his desk as he instructed, parting my thighs. He held my gaze, pushing my skirt half way up my body, and leaned down to clasp my foot. I extended my leg slightly as he pulled my toes to his lips. He sucked my big toe, running his fingers up and down the length of my inner thigh. I groaned appreciatively, wrapping my fingers over the edge of the desk. He grazed his teeth down the sole of my foot, applying pressure on the soft padding as his fingers ventured further between my thighs.

The white lace of my underwear was already tacky with my wetness, so when his adept thumbs brushed over my most private areas, he could feel how much I wanted him. He stopped gnawing at my foot, admired me with wonder, propped my feet at the edge of the desk once more, and delicately removed my underwear, tossing them aside.

I was exposed and placed my fate in his hands. I closed my eyes, smiled and breathed deeply. The constricting stopped and now I just felt ready. I felt wet and hot and eager for his touch. His long fingers stroked me gently as his thumb rubbed my sweet spot. I squirmed a little as he parted me and pushed one finger, then two inside me. I could tell I was swollen and oozed when his fingers made their way in. I gasped as he pushed both fingers all the way into the depths of my existence. His other hand was splayed just above my pubic hair, holding me firmly in place.

“Yeah Piper, let me hear you.”

He started rhythmically twisting his fingers and moving them in and out. They slid smoothly but firmly and he gradually surged deeper and deeper inside me. I started to moan and squirm and had never expected this kind of reaction. It was fabulous and I couldn’t imagine how it could get any better. He pushed harder and faster into me, as I clamped down on the desk. My breasts bounced for him, my nipples standing to attention and he drank me in. I was surprised how violent it was, and I could tell I would be sore in the morning, but I wanted more. I moaned and sighed but he never let me squirm too far away.

Then his tongue was inside me. I could scream. It was the most incredible feeling I had ever had. His long fingers were working harder, faster and his tongue licked and gently sucked my clit. He hummed gently and the vibrations ricocheted through my body.

“Come on Piper; be as loud as you want.”

He growled against my most sensitive swollen areas. He reached up and grabbed my breast, twisting my nipple in rhythm to his pushing. He was rough, and kept going, harder and faster until I felt numb. He then quickly pulled his fingers out making me gasp. His palm was on my clit. My labia molded around his palm as he rubbed me. Hard. The feeling was intense and his tongue replaced his fingers inside me. His palm pulsated against my clit and I moaned deeply, feeling a burning pressure build up.

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