The Girl from Lima

Sure enough, the inevitable Monday morning alarm sounded and the good Dr. Aquino hauled himself out of bed, showered, and picked out a navy-blue shirt to accompany his black tie and slacks. He walked to work via an alternate route, avoiding the convenience store where he usually bought breakfast for fear of bumping into Xiomara – her foster parents were the shopkeepers. His morning classes passed without incident and come lunchtime, he absconded to the park for his usual cigarette break, although where one normally sufficed, he ended going through four before he felt at ease. He could already feel a tension building in his shoulders as he walked back to his classroom a few minutes earlier than usuall. He wanted to be as comfortable as possible.

By the end-of-lunch bell, Gregorio was secure behind his desk, and slowly began to wonder if he would see Xiomara at all until the Peruvian walked in at the tail-end of the stampede, and quietly took her seat opposite Gregorio's desk. For his own peace of mind, the good Dr. Aquino avoided direct eye contact with her throughout the lesson. He did permit himself a few fleeting glances whilst she had her head down working, but aside from the addition of the knitted black school cardigan to her immaculate-as-ever uniform, he could see nothing out of sorts. At lesson's end, he once again avoided making eye contact as she placed her worksheet on his desk and exited the classroom

The moment the door closed behind her, Gregorio couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as his shoulders loosened up. Was he having second thoughts? He hadn't felt that nervous since the evening he'd proposed to Renata. Still, he'd promised to meet her so that was what he would do.

Following the end-of-school bell, Gregorio took his time on the walk over, pausing outside the classroom door for a few seconds. His arm trembled as he reached for the door handle. Whispering a truncated Hail Mary under his breath before opening it, the good Dr. Aquino entered to find Xiomara already there, perched on the desk nearest the door.

"Good afternoon, Miss Qinallata," said Gregorio, dumping his backpack at the door.

The schoolgirl giggled, "Can't you just call me Xiomy, señor?"

He shook his head, "Just a little too informal, I'm afraid."

"Okay then, Dr. Aquino."

"Easy with the sarcasm, I worked hard for that PhD."

She giggled again, brushing some stray hair out of her eyes as she sat holding her teacher's gaze. It took her just over to minute to realize she would have to be the initiator: "Did you consider my request, Dr. Aquino?"

"At great length, Miss Qinallata."

"And?"

"Against my better judgment, it seemed in your best interests to grant it."

At this, Xiomara's lips curved upwards into a warm smile. She slipped off the desk and walked towards him whilst unbuttoning her cardigan. Letting the knitted garment slip to the floor, the schoolgirl took ahold of her teacher's wrists and placed his hands on her chest. Gregorio's pulse jolted as he felt nothing but the thin fabric of her sky-blue polo shirt separating his hands from the tender flesh of her breasts. That explained the cardigan.

"Thank you, Dr. Aquino," she said, maintaining eye contact as she unfastened the button on her plaid skirt's waistband, letting it drop to the floor. She then did the same with her white panties, which joined her skirt round her ankles.

"Call me Gregorio, Xiomy," whispered the Honduran, closing his eyes and leaning in to kiss his student. However, his lips were intercepted by an index finger. He opened his eyes to see Xiomara shaking her head.

"You're my teacher, not my lover, Dr. Aquino. Please don't pretend you feel otherwise."

He sighed, smiling faintly, "My apologies, Miss Qinallata."

"Thank you," she said, her smile returning. Leaving her polo shirt, knee-high socks and brown penny loafers on, she took her teacher by the hand and led him to where she had already pushed two desks together. All too conscious of the fact she was over a foot shorter than Gregorio, the schoolgirl heaved herself up onto one of the desks, shivering slightly at the feeling of the cold wood against her bare buttocks.

Running his left hand through her sleek black hair, Gregorio carefully manoeuvred his other between his student's legs. Finding her only slightly moist, his fingers began to delicately caress her outer limits as he leaned in to kiss her neck. Inhaling sharply at the touch of fingers, Xiomara offered no resistance to his second attempt to kiss, even reaching round to unfasten the top button of her polo. Gregorio reciprocated by planting kisses further down her neck, and gradually increasing the speed of his orbiting fingers. Meanwhile, he could already feel himself straining against the confines of his slacks.

For over a minute, Xiomara kept quiet, biting down ever harder on her bottom lip until finally, a soft whimper leaked out. Surrendering to curiosity, the Peruvian gently pushed her teacher back a step so he could lift the front of her snugly-fitted polo shirt to reveal her small but supple breasts. To Gregorio's confusion, she stopped short of removing the garment. Miffed, he paused, his fingers also stopping.

"What are you waiting for?" asked his student in a heavy whisper, furrowing her brow.

Taking his best guess at what Xiomara might be expecting, the Honduran leant in once more and set about her nipples with his tongue and teeth. Meanwhile, his right hand tentatively made its first move inside his student, his middle finger sliding in effortlessly. The schoolgirl gasped and jolted at the contact, involuntarily throwing her arms around her teacher to steady herself, burying his face in her chest. Giggling, she released him, leaving her shirt up around her breasts.

Once her teacher had stood up straight, Xiomara slipped off the desk and seized his belt buckle. Within seconds, Gregorio's slacks were round his ankles. Her hands went straight for the elastic waistband of his boxers, but it was the good Dr. Aquino's turn to call a break in play as he placed his hands on hers.

"Are you still absolutely certain you want this, Miss Qinallata?"

"You can't quit on me now, Dr. Aquino," she grinned, and yanked down his undergarments, releasing his seven-inch erection. Dropping to her knees, Xiomara gripped his shaft in both hands, gently eased back the foreskin. Staring it in the eye, the schoolgirl pondered whether to take him in her mouth. Oral sex had long intrigued her, ever since a friend had once smuggled a porno magazine into school, but she couldn't quite look past what its primary function was. Leaving his foreskin pulled back, Xiomara stood up and hoisted herself back onto the desk, leaning back on her hands with her thighs spread.

"I'm ready, Dr. Aquino," she said in English, her voice trembling slightly.

Impeded by the slacks at his ankles, Gregorio awkwardly shuffled forward, resting his hands on his student's thighs to aid his balance as he tentatively guided his erection to its destination, as Xiomara watched intently. However, just centimetres from making contact, he hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Xiomara, shooting him a severe glance –she'd been braced for impact for some seconds. Feeling pangs of guilt, the good Dr. Aquino resolved to hold the schoolgirl in suspense no more, and so with a gentle thrust, he entered his student. On impact, Xiomara's back arched and teeth clenched as she fought to stop for crying out in agony. She'd expected it to be excruciating, but even so.

"Don't stop," she whispered, noticing the look of sheer horror on her teacher's face: she figured he'd probably not been with a virgin for some years. As the initial penetration continued, the Peruvian's incisors became practically embedded in her lower lip. Gregorio also had to try very hard to ignore the muffled yelps escaping Xiomara's mouth until, at last, he reached a comfortable depth, and hips settled into a slow but steady tempo. Thereafter, the schoolgirl gradually went from stifling squeaks of pain to suppressing soft whimpers of delight. Her continuing determination to keep quiet confused the Honduran.

"Miss Qinallata, its okay to let yourself be heard."

"But what if someone hears?"

"Isn't it a little late to be worrying about that?" replied the good Dr. Aquino, smirking as he pushed inside her once again. Shrugging her shoulders, Xiomara tossed her head back as her English teacher resumed. With his blessing, a flow of soft gasps and laboured sighs from the Peruvian slowly grew in frequency and volume, and she was soon trying her best to gyrate her hips in time with his thrusts.

"Aren't you allowed...to enjoy this...as well?" enquired Xiomara between steadily deeper moans. Besides a few deep sighs whenever he bucked his hips, Gregorio had been practically silent.

"I thought we were here...for your enjoyment."

"Not...exclusively....idiota," panted the schoolgirl. Had her decision not to fellate him sent the wrong signal, or upset him even?

"As you wish...Xiomy," said Gregorio, and an abrupt increase in speed of his hips followed. His student had to struggle not to muffle her response to the change, letting out a deep groan. As their momentum intensified, the desks began to rock back and forth with them, the furniture's steel legs screeching against the tiled floor.

The two ceased to exchange words and the sound of skin slapping against skin became prevalent, punctuated only by Xiomara's moans and Gregorio's intermittent grunts – he'd never been a very vocal lover. In due course, Gregorio started to feel a familiar tingling sensation he'd not felt in over a year. It was a feeling no amount of masturbation could ever hope to reproduce. It heralded the beginning of the end of their all-too-brief coupling, but to his conscience's probably eternal incredulity, he still had no regrets.

Seizing ahold of his student's hips, lest the still-creaking desk should give way, the Honduran let out a resounding groan as he climaxed, his hips bucking wildly as he deposited his seed inside his student. The sensation of the milky warmth sent an immense shiver up Xiomara's spine, prompting her loudest gasp yet. It wasn't quite an orgasm, but it was good enough for her. She just hoped it took root.

The bout of manic thrusts at an end, Gregorio breathed a heavy sigh as a single bead of sweat dribbled down his forehead. Releasing his hold of Xiomara's waist, he eased himself free of his student and set about redressing himself in silence. Meanwhile, Xiomara lay sprawled across the two desks, her feet still dangling over the edge of the one nearest her teacher. She remained almost motionless, as if in a daze, with her head tilted to one side.

The Honduran raised an eyebrow. He knew sex could be draining, especially the first time, but in the absence of a bona fide climax on her part, he wasn't sure if he should be worried:

"Are you alright, Xiomy?"

Initially, there was no response, but eventually, Xiomara turned her head to meet her teacher's gaze and revealed a warm smile. It grew broader upon seeing the concern in Gregorio's eyes.

"That's Miss Qinallata to you, Dr. Aquino," she quipped, accepting his hand to pull herself upright. Once sat up, the Peruvian pulled her sky-blue polo shirt back over her torso, refastened the buttons and slipped off the desk. Bending down to pull her socks up, she smoothed out the creases in her shirt and threw her arms around Gregorio, pressing her face against his chest: "Thank you, Dr. Aquino, for everything."

Then, the schoolgirl walked over to where she'd dropped her skirt and underwear, pulled them back on and exited the classroom without another word. Dumbstruck by her sudden exit, it took the Honduran a moment to realise the message she may have been trying to send. He smirked. God bless Xiomara Qinallata.