The T.A. Pt. 02

I really gave my vibrator a run for her money Tuesday and Wednesday. I even had to recharge her. I buried my fingers in myself, gasping silently, thinking of the way they looked at me when I left the classroom. I felt swallowed whole. I laid in my bed Tuesday night, eyes closed, imagining that the slow drag of my fingers along my sternum was theirs. I pressed a pillow between my thighs, riding it until I felt my panties soaked. My own fingers playing with my nipples--so sensitive that it feels like they're directly connected to my pussy--became the thick pads of their fingers; I thought of them slipping their hand down my underwear, teasing me for how wet I got, at the same time I dipped my own fingers into my wetness; I thought of them making me whimper and beg them to touch my pussy.

Needless to say, Wednesday was simultaneously a blur and crawled by. I spent a little extra time on campus, hovering around the building where my psychology class is. You know, just in case. Wednesday night I made sure my nails were perfect, I exfoliated, I face masked--the works. The excitement of the next day keeps me awake; I can't stop thinking of their face. It feels a little obsessive, and so I try desperately to read schoolwork to keep my mind off them. It's hard not to think about them, and even just in a completely non-sexual way. They activated something in me that felt eager to please; I wanted desperately to make them laugh, smile, look at me.

I fall asleep thinking of heavy hands over my tits, wet kisses down my body, and a sandy-blonde head between my legs.

***

The outfit was specially crafted. I didn't need any approval from my friends on this. This felt too...scandalous to share with them. Maybe that's the right word. My skirt, light and airy, hit just above the middle of my thighs, and when I sat down, the straps of my garter belt show. My shirt is thin and silky, draped loosely over my tits, accentuating the curves of my waist. I know I look fucking hot. There's something about outfits like these, timelessly feminine, that make me feel so femme. It feels affirming to stand in the mirror and twirl, seeing the exact degree of bending over needed to give a scandalous glimpse of my garter.

If this doesn't work, I don't know what will.

I make sure to leave more than enough time in the morning for me to feel pampered. Sometimes it's easier to think about doing my tasks if I think of myself as a little Sim; mine would have gained the 'confident' and 'flirty' moodlets. I dab a little perfume on my pulse points, choosing a lush, dark vanilla scent. The good thing is that this is my first class of the day, and I don't have to go to the rest of my classes like this. I brought a change of underwear and some shorts, you know. Just in case. I know it's going to be the day that I'm totally unprepared to be fucked, dressed in my least sexy underwear, that my T.A. is going to push me up against a wall. Or sit on their lap. I also have a feeling this class will make me soak through my panties, thus the extra pair.

You could say I'm prepared.

I'm too full of nervous energy to stay at home, so I get to campus earlier than I anticipated. The parking lot is deliciously empty, which makes me feel extra lucky. I'm getting out of my car, walking to the trunk, when a shitty little Mitsubishi comes rolling through, parking a few spots over from me. The driver looked an awful lot like--

"Good morning!" A bright voice chirps, my T.A grinning over at me. My heart lurches so hard it almost makes me nauseous and I wave, a little too violently. Ugh, fuck. They get their bag from their backseat, and I'm still in the process of coming back to my senses, pausing before realizing my bag was in my backseat. Not my trunk. Duh.

They're walking over, now, grinning still with their backpack slung over one shoulder. God damn. They're so handsome. I feel a little struck, and I can't help my own smile. They look so fucking good today. That shirt, in particular, was one of my favorites. The fabric looked so soft, and it looked like it was made for them the way the sleeves hugged their arms. I could see the faint bulk of a sports bra under there, too, which made me laugh a little to myself as I unlocked my back door. Fucking dyke.

"Sorry, one sec--fuck." My water bottle had rolled under my seat, and without thinking I lunge to bend on the floorboard of my car, pawing around (and trying desperately not to think of all the germs and crumbs and dust and--ugh), before I emerge victorious. I wasn't doing it on purpose that time, but if they had happened to catch a glimpse, that's none of my business. I grab my bag and dust myself off, shutting my door. I don't think they looked, though, as they're respectfully looking away, squinting through their glasses at something in the small patch of trees nearby. I squint my own, trying to see what they do, and I'm about to ask when they inform me it's a cat.

I exclaim, quietly, when I see it. It's paused mid-stride, staring over at us--just a tiny tabby. "Oh!" This is exciting news. I crowd a little closer to them, and the cat takes off into the treeline. We both make noises of disappointment. "What an asshole. He couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye."

They chortle, and we begin to walk together. "Yeah, I know, right?" It occurs to me that they're holding a small white bag, distinct grease spots on it, and a coffee cup.

"What'd you get?" I ask, nodding at the coffee cup.

"Just a regular coffee, but they gave me the wrong one. I was actually going to ask if you want it."

I immediately protest and they laugh. "No, seriously. I drank mine in the car. There's no way I'll be able to drink this." I pause before taking the cup, smiling in surprise at their kindness.

"Hey, thanks. That's really nice of you." I had worried for a moment that they had gone out of their way to buy me a coffee, since I had a feeling that the bag in their hand was for me, too. I had nothing to base this on except for the fact that they just seemed like they stuck to their word, and our interaction two days before was seared into my brain permanently. They hold it out to me, too.

"And your apology donut."

This really gets me. My cheeks get hot immediately and I'm sure I look really ridiculous, trying to hide my surprise and delight. "No way. I told you you didn't have to do that. I feel bad," I say as I take the bag they're gesturing towards me.

I'm peeking inside the bag when they chortle. "What can I say? I keep my word. And I wanted to, also." This makes my cheeks burn even brighter; I'm thankful that I'm occupied with peeling the donut out of the bag. "Do you need help?" They ask, laughing, and I can't help but join in.

"Yeah, uh, sorry--can you take the coffee?" They oblige and I take the donut out, crumpling up the bag and throwing it away at a passing trash can. "This is maybe the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. Thank you, man."

They seem a little surprised, laughing. "What? I'm sorry nobody's ever gotten a donut for you before. I hope that wasn't the nicest thing anyone's ever done for you."

They have a way of making me feel utterly transparent when we speak that hits my stomach first sometimes. There's no judgment when they say that, just a sense of genuine kindness and warmth, and sympathy. "I mean..." I'm at a little loss for words, taking a bite of the donut to cover up my mild embarrassment.

"That's fucked up. I'm sorry. Their loss." It seems like they want to say something else, but I just shake my head.

"No, I've just dated a lot of guys before. Never a girl." I pause, then decide to be brave. "Never a butch." I think this statement surprises them, although their reaction is small. It's funny to explain the way that butches can identify us femmes; I don't know what it is. Maybe because every femme I've ever met is ethereal, floating around in perfume and lace. Metaphorically, speaking. Maybe it's the embracing of femininity. I wonder if they could smell it on me, too.

It's really just the knock-off Black Opium perfume. But that's between you and me.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I've heard very bad things about dating men." This makes me laugh through my donut a little. I finish it off, nodding.

"Yeah. It's pretty shit. Some of them feel like they were made in a lab." This makes them laugh, loud and bright, and I have a weird moment of deja vu. Have I dreamt this before? It's a strange sense of familiarity that I can't place, but we're at the classroom, and they open the door. There's one other student here, tucked away into the corner, typing away furiously.

This was perfect. I lick the glaze off my fingers, making brief eye contact with my T.A. as they swing their bag onto their chair. The students' desks are slightly raised and if I angle myself just so, my garter peeks through, the tops of my stockings showing. Just being dressed like this, even the lace of my underwear is giving me enough stimulation as I sit there. Knowing that they could see this made me even wetter. It's so hard for me to not roll my hips, seek friction, even just press downwards a little. I settle for squeezing my thighs ever so slightly, glancing back at my T.A., who I catch in the act of hurriedly looking back at their computer screen.

Perfect.

It's a light day today, the professor leaving a few minutes into class to attend a meeting. The rest of the class is spent watching some true crime show. I put my head down on my desk, cushioned by my jacket, and opt to listen instead. I pay for these classes. I can turn this into an audio-only adventure if I need to.

Class is over much earlier than I expected, somewhere in the middle of the movie. I must've fallen asleep a little because I'm blinking in the sudden flood of fluorescents. Jesus. I'm still in a sleepy daze when I pack up my belongings, lingering like always. This time nobody stays behind; in fact, several students left early. My T.A. is packing their laptop away, looking up when they hear me approach. "Thank you for the donut. And coffee."

"It doesn't seem like they helped much. Are you feeling okay?"

Their concern is sweet and I smile. "Yeah. Just a lot of late nights recently. Sorry I fell asleep, I dunno if that'll affect my grade or anything. I can, uh," they move a little closer to me. Their look is unreadable, but it sets my heart fluttering nervously. "..watch it on my own. Or something," I stammer. Jesus, this wasn't fair for them to do to me. I just woke up. They're within a step or two of me, and I feel alight. My skin is buzzing. I feel myself, starry eyed, dazedly staring at them as they come closer, cupping my jaw with a surprisingly warm hand.

"I think you can come up with something. You're a clever girl, hm?" They whisper, gazing at my lips. When our eyes meet again, I inhale sharply, feeling the intensity shoot through my core. Their thumb crawls up my chin to my lower lip, gently tracing the corner of it with the pad of their finger. I open my mouth, breathing heavily, at the slightest pull of their thumb. They look delighted, then hungry.

Then they fucking consume me. I've never kissed anyone with such intensity, other than that lost butch that one time. Their tongue is hot and wet and insistent, and I hear myself make little noises as I desperately kiss back, pressing myself against their body. It's as solid as anticipated, and their hands leave a trail of warmth down my body as they grab my ass to pull me closer. "Did you know this would drive me crazy?" They grunt as they pull away to kiss and nip at my neck. I gasp for air, tilting my head for easier access, and breathe a giggle. I glance down at them, and they glance up at me.

Something mutual is exchanged.

I don't know what.

But the next moment, I'm being pushed to lean over the desk, gasping when I feel something thick and warm press between my legs. It takes me a second to realize it's their thigh as they drape their body over mine, giving a vicious slam of their hips and roll of their thigh that makes me tremble and whimper. "Answer me. Did you know this would make me crazy?" Their breath is hot in my ear, and at the same time, they reach down to snap a garter strap. I manage a laugh.

"Did it work?"

They growl in my ear and grab onto both of my hips, under my skirt, grabbing at me. "Did it work? You're lucky I didn't fuck you with everyone around." This makes me whine softly, and they put their hand over my mouth. "Shh. Be a good girl for me."

Oh, fuck. I melt into their hands as one drifts from the inside of my thigh, dragging deliciously near my pussy. It's taking everything in me to remain as quiet as I can, arching my back desperately to feel them press against me. They drift closer and closer to my soaked panties, and I instinctively part my legs further apart as they reach between my legs in earnest. This seems to surprise them again, and they let out a pleased rumble in my ear. "Good girl, opening your legs for me like that."

My body tingles with pleasure at the praise, starting in the center of my tummy and spreading outwards. It makes me shiver and whine, uncontrollable, and arch desperately towards their hand. They're slowly peeling my panties down, and I wiggle when the cool air hits my dripping pussy, gasping. "O-oh, fuck, please--" I can barely think. I think all I've ever known is the thickness of their fingers coming closer and closer to touching my clit, and I'm mewling quietly and wiggling and--

Something makes me jump, startling me out of my dream. I look around. Most of the class has left already, just a few stragglers remaining. What woke me up was one of my classmates gently shaking my shoulder and it sets my heart pounding. I can feel how fucking wet that dream made me. I'm almost embarrassed to get up, frankly. Holy shit. I hope I hadn't made any noise.

I continue to shame spiral as I pack up my stuff. Clearly, everyone in class has telepathy and knew exactly what weird, freak, pervert sex dream about someone who didn't consent to it you had when you fell asleep twenty feet from them. I can't help the way my cheeks burn and I have to make a deliberate pause to calm myself down.

I feel eyes on me and I turn around, halfway through a gulp of water. My T.A. is standing there, handsome and bright as ever, hands held behind their back. Are they... waiting for me? I ask this, trying not to choke on my water at their reply. "I go home after this. If you do, I was going to see if you wanted to walk together." They seem a little shy as they say this, and it makes me grin, quickly shoving the rest of my shit together. I actually do have a class after this, but they didn't need to know that. Plus, I was considering going home to masturbate furiously. Also, I was going to do it anyway.

"No, my classes are later. You don't mind walking me? All those deer are so scary." I flit down to them, grinning, and I have to pause for a moment from how fucking cute they are when they smile. They have a mole just between their nose and their lip. I look away from them, quickly, and they usher me forward with a motion that looks like an aborted attempt to touch the small of my back. And then I remember that I'm fucking crazy, and this person is just being really nice to the weird girl in class.

That dream really threw me off my game.

Not good for my plan.

We easily walk in sync with each other, chatting easily. I ask about their weekend, and they tell me they're going to their girlfriend's--

Wait. What the fuck? I can't help but feel immediately devastated. It's a miracle I kept it cool and kept walking, trying to fight the tears I could feel building. Oh my god. I nod sympathetically. I think that's the proper response. "Yuck. In laws. That sounds really fun."

They make a strangled sort of noise that makes me laugh. "Ouch. That fun?" Their response is hard for me to read, and my eyes have cleared enough that I can look over at them. They look a little sad, a little annoyed, a little exasperated. I'm worried it's aimed at me before they chuckle and pause for a second, pulling their hair back. I try not to act like I'm transfixed, but it's very difficult, and I only kind of succeed. Oh, fuck. Their arms look so hot up close. They're absolutely huge, and I desperately want to put my hand on them to compare. They don't seem to notice my gawking because when I look at their face--finally--their eyes are closed as they finish smoothing it back and putting it up. "Yeah. It's a long story. Maybe a little more complicated than it should be."

We start walking again, and I nod. "Yikes. How long have you been together? If you don't mind me asking."

They're very kind-natured; I can tell this because they deal with my pestering. "Three years." I make a low noise.

"Ouch. That sucks. The third year makes it or breaks it, I think."

Now it's their turn to nod, and they sigh. "Yeah, I don't know. I'm not sure what's the right point to break up."

"Mm. I think that depends on your own personal standards. For me, I think when I start fantasizing about a life separate from them. And when I do fantasize about it, I think if I have a feeling of being unburdened or happy or relieved, and not immense grief, then it's time to part ways."

They nod, a little crease forming between their eyebrows. "Thank you. That helps a lot, actually." They give me a little smile and I grin back.

"Yeah, dude. I'm glad. If I thought that you'd actually take my advice, I would've thought about it some more, so... there you go. A free one. A bonus yolk in your egg, if you will." Their laugh makes me giggle, and I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. They have to take a second to calm down from laughing.

"What's the first yolk?"

"What?"

"You said a bonus yolk. But if what you told me was the bonus yolk, then I didn't get the other one."

Oh, shit. "Uh. The greatest gift of all."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" I find my keys, finally, and lean against my car door. They unhook theirs from their belt loop.

"My presence. Of course."

They bark a loud laugh and I can't help but beam, feeling proud. It feels so fucking good to make them laugh. And their laugh is so beautiful. It's so warm and filling, and it makes me laugh, too. I unlock my door, and lean awkwardly (oops, is my garter showing?) to unlock my back door.

Maybe the first time my manual locks have served me.

I straighten up and go to toss my bag in the back. They're standing at a respectably friendly distance, hands clasped behind their back. "Thanks for the coffee. And the donut."

"No problem. I'm glad I could make it up to you."

"Yeah. I deliberated over it all class and just now decided to forgive you, so you're lucky."

"Oh, yeah?" They laugh, rolling their eyes. "Thank you for your generosity."

"I'm very benevolent, what can I say? I have a very kind spirit. An empath, even. I could sense your grief over your transgression." They snort and eye me with an indiscernible look. It feels warm--or, at least, it makes me feel warm. "So I took pity on you." I'm feeling emboldened--silly, even--by how much they're laughing, and keep chortling to myself.

"Okay. Sure. Thanks for picking up on that," they say, still grinning.

I roll my eyes and shrug in an expression of "it's no big deal, I guess, or whatever" before grinning back at them like I just performed a trick. "Hey, be careful getting home. Those people are crazy out there. And, uh--" We're standing close now, and I can see them in great detail. There's a few errant loose curls around their face and neck, and the strength of their look is almost too much to bear. I pause for a second, swallowing (hopefully) quietly before speaking.

"Anyone would be lucky to have you. You seem really kind. And there's never a right time to break up with somebody, because it'll always suck. But..you know. You should chase your bliss. You deserve to be happy as like...a priority. And it's not too much to want that."