F is for Fail

His hands were large, large and strong and he was so solid and muscular and neither of us said anything as those hands ran over my butt, my back, my shoulders, stroked my hair, returned to press me against him and he was so hard. Big and hard and that delicious shivering heat was back and I was wet. I was so wet and slippery and sensitive.

"Krystina," he breathed, just holding me for a second. "I want you. I want you so much."

"Yes," I whispered. "I know."

I knew he did, and I knew what he meant and what he wanted, and I wasn't nervous or scared. I was excited and there was this anticipation and he was all I wanted. He was what I needed and in his arms, feeling him pressed against me, I knew that.

"I'm here," I gasped, looking up at him. "I know what you want, and you can have anything you want. You can do anything you want."

"Krystina," he breathed. "Are you sure?" He actually groaned and shivered against me. "You're my student, I shouldn't."

"I'm eighteen," I murmured, moving myself against him, just a little. "It's alright."

"I'm your teacher," he groaned, but his hands held me close. Pressed me against him.

"I don't care. I want you too. I want you to teach me," I moaned. "Teach me everything."

"Are you sure?" he gasped, his eyes looking into mine.

"Yes," I breathed, looking back. "Oh yes, I'm sure. I'm so sure."

He didn't say a word but a second later his hands began to peel my blazer off me and I helped him and then looked down as he began to unbutton my blouse. He was fast, seconds later my blouse was undone and on the chair and he was fumbling at my bra, looking down at me.

"Do you always wear a bra? You don't look like you need one."

"I... yes, I do," I stammered, flushing, licking my lips and my nipples were so swollen and so firm that they ached. "I don't really need to, do I?" I added, not quite panting, but close.

I hesitated, a second, then reached behind my back, hesitated for a second more, and then I unhooked my bra and I knew I'd crossed a line as he watched me slip my bra off one arm, then the other and my nipples were so swollen and firm and he was looking at my breasts and I was naked from the waist up.

"They're small," I gasped, and they were, but his face said he liked them.

"They're beautiful," he said and his hand cupped one, is thumb brushing across my nipple, and at his touch, my knees almost buckled.

I kept looking at his hand on me. Hot against my skin and his thumb kept brushing across my nipple. Brushing back. Every brushing touch sent ripples to my center.

"Beautiful," he said, looking down at me.

"What?" I gasped, and I wanted to moan out loud.

"Your nipples," he said, his hand cupping one boob, his thumb brushing across it and I just looked. His hand, it was so big on me where he was cupping my boob, and my boobs were so small. "They're beautiful. I want to kiss them."

"Uh," I gasped, my face burning because I wasn't used to this. A man looking at my boobs, and admiring my nipples. Telling me he wanted to kiss my nipples.

"Beautiful," he said again, and he kissed me as his thumb brushed my nipple and his mouth swallowed my moan and his tongue was deep in my mouth. His other hand found the clasp and zip on the side of my skirt, unfastened it, brushed it downwards, and next second it slipped over my hips to pool around my feet, and suddenly all I was wearing were my white school socks and my cutest panties.

The white cotton bikini briefs with the little Hello Kitty's.

"Ohhhh," I gasped, acutely aware of my exposure, blushing pink, but I wasn't resisting as Mr. Montoya guided me down and onto my back on that large old rattan day-bed against the back wall of his office hide-away, and he was lying beside me, propped up on one elbow, looking down at me as I lay there.

"Hello Kitty panties?" he said, smiling and I blushed, because I knew where he was looking.

"Mom buys my clothes," I gasped.

From Walmart mostly, but I wasn't saying that, and my heart was pounding, my stomach was a black hole, and his hand was caressing my boobs, both of them. First one and then the other, teasing my nipples and they both were so swollen and large, aching and when he cupped one boob, I half turned, pressing my boob into his hand and moaning quietly, and he smiled, and then he kissed me again.

"Take your shirt off," I gasped when his mouth lifted from mine. He did, and I watched him while he unbuttoned it and shrugged it off and when he half sat up and sat up myself and fumbled at his belt, unbuckling it. He looked at me and his hands worked his trousers down and he kicked them off. He was wearing boxers and that bulge inside looked enormous.

His hand eased me back down and now I could feel him against my thigh, hot and hard and his skin pressed against mine, warm, little electric shocks rippled through me as his hand ran over me, exploring, touching, caressing and I lay there looking up at him, melting.

"Touch me," he said.

I looked into his eyes, startled.

He smiled. "Touch me, you know you want to." His hand left me, he fumbled with his boxers, pushing them down and he kicked them off. I didn't look but I knew he was naked and I felt him against my thigh, hot and hard and my heart wanted to explode.

He reached out and took one of my hands in his, lifted it towards him.

"Touch me," he said again, and I didn't look. I didn't look as his hand guided mine to his erection, placed it on him, curled my fingers around his rigid girth and I held him. I clasped him and I wanted to look but I was too scared. It felt huge, hugely thick and I didn't want to think about how long it was, how big it was but I knew what my hand was doing.

My hand held him. Held his cock, and he was naked and I was holding his cock. In my hand. Hard. Hot and thick and big and hard and my heart choked me.

"I like that, Krystina." His voice was low, husky, passionate, loaded with desire. His hand was caressing me and my own desire held me enthralled.

"Do you?" I whispered, and I couldn't tear my eyes from his. I didn't want to, because as soon as I did, I knew what my eyes would be examining and all I could think of was that he wanted me and I wanted him.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his hand leaving mine clasped around him, hot and hard and thick under my fingers and I continued to hold him and his hand circled on my stomach and I was naked naked except for those panties and his hand slid down to cup my sex through my panties.

"Ohhh." A man's hand. Mr. Montoya's hand, touching me, and I was so sensitive and so hot and wet, and my knees fell apart.

"I love those Hello Kitty panties," he breathed. His finger pressed the cotton of my panties inwards between my labia, sudden harsh friction and I knew he could tell how wet I am, because my panties were wet.

"Ohhhhhh," I sobbed, and my fingers were clasped around his cock.

"I'm hard because of you, Krystina," he breathed, his finger pressed against my slit. "You're so gorgeous."

"I'm not," I moaned. "I don't know what to do."

"You know what I want don't you?" Mr. Montoya breathed, and the heel of his hand presses hotly against my tummy and his fingertip is where I was so wet and it curled and pushed, curled and pushed, delicious friction and I wanted to take my panties off for him but I couldn't move, I couldn't let go of his cock....

"Yes... yes..." I knew. I knew exactly what he wanted and that was why I was in here, on his daybed, wearing only panties and my white knee socks and holding his cock in my hand. I knew exactly what he wanted and it was his to take. I looked up at him and he read my face, he knew and that smile, that look, I knew that he knew and he knew that I knew that he knew, and his hand lifted and slid inside my panties and his hand was on my sex.

Touching me. Touching my sex, and I was wet, wet and ready and hot and liquid where his fingertip pushed inwards, and I opened to him, his digit probed inexorably up inside me, his hand cupped my sex beneath my panties, and I shuddered as his finger pushed up inside me, exploring.

"Ohhhhhhh." His finger caressed my channels walls inside and my hand clasped his cock and without thinking, because all I could think about was his finger inside me and his hand on my sex, I began stroking him slowly, and he was huge and now I was scared. Scared and excited because his finger was inside me and what I was stroking was so much bigger than his finger and I knew what he wanted, and I knew what I wasn't quite sure I wanted now, but I wasn't going to stop him.

"Ohhhhhhh." I knew that, and his hand was so good, and I wanted to spread my legs wide and my knees parted and I guess my face was telling him I was hooked. Hooked on his finger and I was so wet on him, his hand was wet with me and he had me where he wanted me. He didn't need to say where he wanted me. We both knew.

"Do you want to take your panties off for me?" he breathed, and his face told me that he wanted me too and somehow he brushed my clitoris with his thumb so that my sex spasmed on his finger and my body shivered with delight.

"Nnnuuhhh," I half-moaned, half-whined and I wanted to take my panties off, and I didn't want to let go of his cock, and I was melting on his probing finger and I wanted to move myself on his hand. I wanted to rub myself on him, I wanted that touch on my clitoris to keep touching me.

"Ohhhhhhh." Like that. Oh yes... yes... like that... like that.

"Ohh... ohhhh Mr. Montoya... ohhhhh... ohhhhohhhhhhh," and I shivered through a little orgasm that just rippled through me, leaving me limp and glowing and wanting more because his touches, that feather-light brushing of his thumb, his finger inside me, none of that stopped and he was so big and hard in my hand and I knew where it should go and now I stroked him, slowly, almost but not quite moaning, and I knew it was going to happen.

"Take your panties off for me, Krystina," he breathed again, reminding me, his lips brushed mine and I knew if I wanted more, I was going to have to. It was his way of making sure I really did want him. I didn't hesitate. I didn't let go of his cock. My free hand began to work my panties down, down to my upper thighs, mid-thighs, wriggling on his finger and my sex spasmed and danced with every movement of my hips.

"Ohhhhh," I moaned. "Ohhhhh," and I was almost frantic now. As soon as my panties were down to my knees I drew one leg up, freed my foot and dropped my leg, limp with heated desire and with excitement, and his cock was rigid in my hands, a steel bar. My fingers stroked his length, ran over him and I wanted... I wanted....

"I want to see you," I gasped, and he knew what I meant. He smiled.

"Look," he said, half easing onto his back, his finger sliding out and I shuddered at that loss but I wanted to see and I slid up and over, leaning forward over him, my hand holding his cock so that I could look, and I could see him now. All of him. His erect cock jutted hugely outwards from my hand, and my hand held barely a third of his length, and it looked enormous.

"Oh," I said, very weakly, because it was so long and so thick. Longer and thicker than I'd imagined a man's cock could be and I hadn't done that except on Sunday and Monday and today and now it was here, looking me in the face and I examined it carefully, not quite hypnotized but definitely fascinated and excited.

Mr. Montoya knew what that sight was doing to me. He looked at my face, then down at his cock and he smiled, stroking himself slowly with one hand, displaying himself to me and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. Huge, rigid, jutting up and out, enormous, and my sex pulsed hotly, and all I could do was gaze at that enormous cock and his balls.

"Come back here, Krystina." He smiled as I obeyed, lying back on the day-bed and now I felt exposed and vulnerable and he looked down at me, his hand circled on my stomach, ran down my hips to my thighs, then to my inner thighs and he eased my legs further apart and he looked at me. I knew what he was looking at and his cock rested on my thigh now, huge. Hard. Ready.

"You know exactly what I want, don't you, Krystina," he said softly, his hand caressing my inner thigh and my sex was swollen and wet with liquid heat. If he touched me there, I knew I'd scream from sheer excitement, and I knew what he wanted.

"Yes," I gasped, my hand searching for him, finding him and I clasped my fingers around him and stroked him, heart pounding as I tugged gently at him and he responded, moving. He moved up and over me, one of his knees slid between mine, then the other and one hand urged my knees to part as he moved over me and looked down at me and my hand held him, stroked him and my heart thumped and pounded.

"You know what to do," he said, looking down at me.

"I don't." My gasp was desperate. "I've never done this before. I don't know what to do."

He smiled, his lips brushed mine, his hand gently pushed my knee wide and back and my other knee followed and his thighs moved, pushed against the backs of mine, his eyes stared down into mine.

"Here." He reached down, his fingers clasped mine on his girth and he was so hard and so thick, my finger and thumb didn't meet around him. "You know what to do," he said. "You know where it goes."

I looked up at him and I held him in my hand and I did know what to do. His hand moved mine so that I was stroking his cock, slowly and he kissed me. His lips brushed mine, his tongue touched me, a wet flicker and my mouth opened, slowly, then all the way as his mouth possessed mine, gently, his tongue teased mine.

This wasn't like those kisses back in my bedroom above the Dragon Cafe. These kisses were slow, gentle, teasing, his lips brushed mine, his tongue slipped into my mouth, tasted, flirted, teased my lips, slowly morphing into that open-mouthed kissing, our lips sealed to each other's, his tongue deep in my mouth, my tongue in his as we sucked at each other, surrendered to each other, our tongues danced together, tasted each other and time slowed, that kiss and his rigid cock in my hand, his body over mine, my excitement, my exposure to him, that was everything.

His lips, the texture of his tongue, the taste, that shared saliva and his scent and his taste and his mouth intoxicated me, the silky smoothness of his muscles against my skin, his size, the sleek power of his body, wide shouldered, slim hipped, his nakedness and mine and I knew I was surrendering myself to him, I knew that as I kissed him while my hand clasped his length, stroking him as his hand engulfed mine and he didn't guide me. His hand was reassuring, exciting me and his cock was rigid, hard as steel, huge in my clasp and there was no thought of stopping him.

There was a tinge of fear, a dread of the unknown, the fear of doing the forbidden and then there was that overwhelming excitement and I was so hot. Molten wet heat at my center, and I was so wet for him, swollen and slippery and ready for his taking and I was moaning into his mouth as he kissed me and I knew what I wanted to do.

I knew what he wanted to do.

"Krystina," he smiled, his mouth lifting from mine. "Krystina." He lifted himself a little, he looked down at my delicate olive-brown fingers, small and delicate beneath his hand, so tiny on his massive shaft where I stroked him. "Krystina."

I didn't say a word. I looked down, looked down at that massively long and thick cock I held in my hand and I watched my hand stroking him, looked at that huge cockhead pointing up at me. I watched as his hand cupped my sex, and his hand was so big on me. Huge, covering me, and his finger pushed into me, huge and thick.

"Nnnnhhhhh," I whined, biting my bottom lip as his finger penetrated me, slid up inside me.

"So tight," he breathed, looking down at me, and he didn't wait for a reply, his head sank down, his lips seized on one of my nipples, drew on it, tugged.

"Ohhhhh." My back arched. My free hand clutched at his head as I pushed my boob into his mouth. His finger was inside me, his thumb brushed my clitoris, again and again and now my mouth was wide open. I wanted to scream but I couldn't. If I screamed the way I wanted to, someone might hear us.

"I want you now." His hand closed tightly over mine where I was still stroking him. He guided his cock towards my sex, and my heart was pounding. Thumping. His cock was huge and now I was scared. Scared and excited, and his cockhead brushed my sex, and I shivered in response. I knew it was going to happen.There was no stopping now.

Mr. Montoya was going to make love to me.

A montage of thoughts rushed through my head in that second where his cockhead brushed against my sex and I felt myself part for him. Fear, mostly, because I'd never, and I'd heard the other girls, and they all said different things. That it hurt. That guys were rough. That they used you. That it was exciting.That they really liked it. That they didn't. I didn't know what it would be like, and I was scared, but scared or not, I wanted it. Wanted him.

His cockhead brushed against my sex, where I was hot and wet and slippery. Where I wanted him, and his hand held mine on his cock, he rubbed himself gently against me, and his cockhead was huge there. I'd never imagined it being that big. Thick and round, and his cock in my hand was so big, so long. Would it fit? Would it hurt? Would it...?

"Krystina." His voice was low, husky, filled with desire. "Move your knees back for me."

Hesitantly, timidly, fearfully, I did as he wanted me to do. I drew my knees back, my feet lifting into the air, and as I lifted my knees, exposing myself, offering myself to him, his thighs spread wider, pushing against the back of mine, holding me open for him, and my hand continued to hold him against my sex.

"Further back, Krystina," he murmured. "Move your knees further back, as far as you can."

His hand left mine holding him, and now his fingers guided one knee gently back, further and further, my other knee automatically following suite, until both my knees were clasping his ribs, my feet brushing his hips, open and exposed him,and I'd never felt more vulnerable, more helpless that I did in that moment as I offered myself up to him, gazing up into his eyes, my heart pounding wildly.

My sex pulsing hotly, and I was scared of what was about to happen, scared of what I held clasped in my hand would do, but my sex wasn't. My sex wanted him, and I was so wet, so sensitive as he pushed against my clasping fingers, brushed his cockhead against me, exquisite friction where he parted my labia a little, and pushed up against my entrance, and he was steely hard beneath my fingers.

"Mr. Montoya, I've never..." I gasped, and I was scared. Scared and excited, because it was going to happen, I knew it was.

"Krystina, I know," he breathed. "I know you haven't," and his lips brushed mine, his hand brushed my hair back from my forehead as he kissed me so gently, his tongue exploring my mouth, sliding against my tongue, and it was my hand that held him against my sex. It was my hand that moved his cockhead against me, just a little, and I was gasping, burning, alive, everywhere so alive, my sex so wet and my clitoris so sensitive, and I wanted him as he kissed me again and again.

"Do you want to be mine, Krystina?" he breathed, kissing me again and again, one arm under my shoulders,his body on mine. His naked body on my naked body, his cock hard in my hand as I lay beneath him, and I knew. "Really?"

"Yes," I murmured, my eyes looking up into his, and my lips welcomed his kisses, as my sex longed to welcome him within me."Yes..."

He smiled, he kissed me, he moved, pushing against my hand where I held him. Where I guided him, and his cockhead pressed hugely against my entrance. Pressed firmly, and my eyes widened as he stretched me there, and his cockhead was huge, so much bigger than his finger, and I had no idea how it would fit in me,but I did know the theory. It should, but that was theory, and what we were doing was reality.