This Ain't Literature

Then, from the way her eyes shone when she dragged them back to my face, I knew I'd played this right. She had to clear her throat twice, and when she finally spoke her lips couldn't quite suppress her smirk. "Guess I'll go get the case then, Cameron."

"Guess you should, Ms B." I let her watch my face as she stood up, knowing she'd see my eyes rake down her body, from those gorgeous tits down those sturdy legs to her bare feet with the cracked nail polish, and she gave me a very feminine smile as she padded across the room to where the case was. I watched as she knelt, then leaned under the table, and on cue her shorts crept down to show me the lacy elastic top of a pair of burgundy panties, the tag visible through translucent fabric about an inch below. And below that, the shadow of her asscrack through the deep wine-purple gauze.

Fuck. Lace.

I was on my feet at once, crossing the room in my sockless Vans, the Ovation dangling from my hand. My cock tented my shorts to an obscene degree, leading the way like a divining rod, and the moment she straightened up she'd be right at eye level with it. Good. I licked my lips, pondering her underwear. "Uhh, crack kills, Ms Brett."

She glanced up at me coolly, then the dimple returned. "I'm sure it does, Cameron." She gave no sign of hiding herself, though, which of course just made my cock spasm even more, and there I was standing there looking down at her on the floor, on her knees. She slid the case out. "Nobody's forcing you to look."

"You've got that right," and there I was with my hard dick right in her face, her eyes drifting lazily along the front of my shorts. River crossed, indeed. I thought about whipping it out right there, but just then we heard the squeak of Finn making his way down the hallway upstairs and the spell wavered. She took a deep breath, then reached for the guitar. I handed it over wordlessly, and then the case lid snapped shut and she scooted it back under the table.

She looked a bit surprised to see my hand out, waiting to help her up, but after a quick glance at my face she took it, warm and sweaty, and let me lift her to her feet. I'd never been this close to her, our bodies almost touching, except for one quick standard-issue hug at graduation. And I'd been too drunk to really pay attention then. She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed embarrassed. "I'm uh, sorry. If that conversation was a little inappropriate. We should keep it between us." She gave a self-conscious laugh. "I doubt Shannon Boyle would like me discussing her sex life with a former student."

"Remember, Ms Brett," I replied softly, "I can keep a secret." She nodded, her eyes wide, and if there'd ever been a moment to lean down and kiss her, that was the one. So I stooped slightly, offering, and as if in a trance Ms B craned up to meet me, those succulent lips of hers parting, her hand still gripping mine, and of course a loud keening wail came floating down the stairs at just that moment.

"Moooooooooooommmmmmmmmyyyyy!"

She started, spinning guiltily around to make sure little Finn hadn't snuck downstairs, but then she was brushing her curls wildly out of her eyes and blinking up at me. "Fuck, Cameron," she whispered.

I smiled, my penis still on fire. "I should go. Text me." I smiled at her. "I'll come back."

* * *

My hormones hyperactive, I called Eva that night, looking for a hole to fill. Alas, Aidan was over at her house. So, reckless, with a wet patch on the inside of my underwear, I drove over to Aidan's house. His sister Kristin answered, tall and gorgeous and college-poised, and told me with a smile that he was out for the night. Their parents were in the basement rec room watching a James Bond marathon.

"Bummer," I sighed. "I mean, I drove all this way..."

I fucked Kristin White comprehensively for three hours until Aidan called to say he was coming home. He was always good about not staying out all night. His mom got worried.

* * *

I was off the next day, so I stayed in bed until almost noon. I was awake for much of the time, though, gnawing at my nails, thinking of Ms Brett and that lush body of hers kneeling on the floor in front of me, my depleted balls and shrunken cock still coated with Aidan's sister's pussy. She'd been great, but not as great as Eva.

I was very aware that I would have kissed Ms B yesterday, and I was certain she would have kissed me right back, with interest. I was also aware I might not be asked back; it was entirely possible, I realized, that little Finn Brett's guitar lessons might just be coming to a screeching halt. Because, clearly, it would be very unwise for Ms Brett to be anywhere near me after yesterday.

Fortunately for my libido, Ms Brett didn't seem to realize that. Her text showed up that same afternoon, my phone warbling in my pocket, asking me to come by tomorrow. I pondered a moment, then did three important things:

I told her I'd love to.

Then, I ventured out to the drugstore to buy a new box of condoms. The guy behind the counter sold me a lot of those; he barely even looked up at me anymore.

Finally, I texted my fuckbuddy Kayleigh to break our date that evening. She was disappointed, but things were coming to a head with Ms B, and muy rapido. I might need all my available semen tomorrow, though the prospect of passing up another tour of Kayleigh's extraordinary pussy caused me real pain.

But it was done, I reflected as I tossed my phone back onto my bedside table and glanced at my knockoff Flying V in the corner leaning up against its amp. Who knew I'd gain so much from my ability to play a fucking guitar?

* * *

I resolved to let Ms Brett take the lead when I went over to her house the next day. If there was to be any fun of the naked-and-wet variety between her and I, I wanted a willing woman. I didn't want to appear to be forcing her. Of course, circumstances might change all that; every young man with a healthy sex drive understands how to adapt to whatever situation your woman feeds you.

She greeted me at the door pretty coolly, in what I'd come to think of as her typical daily uniform of shorts and a t-shirt stretched across her boobs. She peered up at me a little cautiously. "Hi, Cameron."

"Ms Brett."

"Finn's all ready for you." She opened her mouth to say something else, but then shook her head slightly. "I'll be upstairs." She was gone abruptly, her ass swinging in its usual ball-tightening way, and I shrugged my way inside.

The lesson went better than the others had, at least; the kid had practiced, and at the end of the hour he went bouncing out of the room with some scratch-n-sniff stickers to put into the old chord book I'd given him. I put the Ovation away, and I'd just snicked the latches on the case when I caught his mom's legs out of the corner of my eye. I swiveled my head to see her leaning against the doorway like she usually did.

She cleared her throat, her dimple coming and going. "Not going to serenade me today?"

I smiled. Good. "I've got to be at work in an hour, Ms B," I pointed out, "but if you really want me to..." I lifted one of the case latches again.

She crossed to the couch. "In literature," she chuckled, trailing it off, her face already pink, and I nodded from the floor.

"Yeah, yeah. Blah-blah-blah, romance, blah-blah." I stood up and stretched. I wasn't hard yet, but it was obviously coming; she'd settled onto the couch, this time, with her legs up across it. I gestured to her feet, planted firmly in the indentation where I'd just been sitting. My usual place. "You're not leaving me as much room as you usually do, Ms B."

"Well." She was trying really hard to hold her smile in. "You can leave, if you want."

I shook my head and went over. I had a loose tanktop on today, with some baggy shorts that had probably fallen halfway down my ass as I worked the guitar case. I did get an added thrill knowing she'd seen my underwear, but whatever; fair was fair, and she'd already flashed me hers. "Nah." I stood over the couch, my plan made; I'd reach down, lift both her legs up, and drop them into my lap when I sat. It would be a level of fairly profound intimacy, but I knew she wouldn't object. "I enjoy sitting with you."

Unexpectedly, though, she moved her feet back off my cushion, her knees high; I'd be sitting right by her feet. "Um." Again, her mouth twitched, but the dimple won. "I could tell. Last time. That, uh, that you enjoy it." When I looked over at her, settling into the couch, she was scarlet again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

I shrugged nonchalantly, my cock already in spasm; her toes were touching me, her legs scrunched up within easy reach where I'd draped my hand across the back of the couch. "You enjoy it too, though."

"Yes," she said immediately, her eyes watching my hand as I let it trail off the back of the couch, my fingers brushing lightly at her knee. "I kinda do." She took a deep breath, still watching my hand, then she stretched her legs deliberately across my lap, one at a time, crossing her ankles once she'd done it.

"This is new." I rested my hand on her ankle automatically, and this couldn't possibly have gone more perfectly. I was half-hard already, as she'd soon find out.

"Yeah, well." She was still red, but not quite as bright, the dimple still wavering. She glanced aside, toward the stairs, then back into my face. "I wanted to be comfortable. This is my own damn house. I feel like stretching out. So?" She wiggled her toes. "Fuckit."

I laughed hard at that, my hand patting at her leg, and after a few seconds she joined in. I let my head loll back against the couch. "I hadn't realized we were so fucking informal, Ms B." I paused, then took another swing. "Lauren."

She nodded. "You are so confident. You know that?" I shrugged, my thumb rubbing lightly at her leg. It was completely smooth; she must have shaved it just that morning. "It's a side of you I never really suspected."

"You always liked my writing," I pointed out quietly. "I was always confident on paper."

"Well, sure. But confidence in writing isn't always the same as confidence in real life. Quite the opposite, usually." She hesitated, letting her eyes flicker across my body, then back to my face. "It's kind of attractive, I'm not going to lie."

"Yeah?" I smiled. "Well. So I guess now you know why teachers sometimes sleep with their students." I chuckled as I said it, a little dryly. I was pushing here, and I knew it, but enough was enough. She wanted me, and she was going to have me.

She knew it too, I think. She was nodding slowly. "Ms Boyle isn't a married woman, Cameron."

I stared deliberately over at the family photos on the mantel. "You were going to kiss me the other day, Lauren," I pointed out calmly, my penis a solid ridge in my shorts. Against her leg; she had to feel it. I felt a shudder run through her entire body. "I was going to kiss you, too."

"Why?" I felt the tension in her body; odd, now that everything was coming out in the open. You'd think she'd have been relieved; for my part, I was totally relaxed. She stared at me through her lashes. "Why, Cameron?"

"Because you're fucking gorgeous, Lauren." I was still sprawled, my whole body surfer-lazy, waiting to see who was going to attack first; this moment always thrilled me. My cock was fat against the back of her calf. I flexed it a bit, and she rewarded me with a tiny gasp. "See?"

"Fuck." She was shaking her head, her voice hushed, and I was through waiting.

"In literature, we'd keep playing games here," I told her coolly, easily, "But this ain't literature. So why not kiss me now, Lauren?" I asked it in a calm voice, quiet, my hand stroking her leg, and she practically threw herself across the couch at me.

I knew she was needy. I'd known from that first day at the drive-thru, probably even from last year in class: some women just broadcast that shit, like body odor, and Ms B surely did. And I knew I'd stoked those fires over the past couple of weeks, consciously, making her want me. But even so, the ferocity with which she launched herself at me was impressive.

She uncoiled, her eyes blazing, lunging across the couch and straight toward my face. She ended up on her knees, wedged between the back of the couch and my legs, leaning across my body with her tits squashed onto my chest, her lips smashing into mine with no hesitation.

The first kiss with a girl usually tells you a lot, but this one told me everything: the desperation, the lust, the pent-up frustration I'd sensed early on: all of it came vibrating from her wet, full lips onto mine, her tongue wasting no time plunging into my mouth. A long, coffee-tasting sigh escaped into my mouth, mingled want and need and fulfillment, and I took everything she had to give. My own tongue, well-trained by the mouths of so many girls, stabbed eagerly into hers, beckoning, inviting, even demanding, and within just a couple of seconds we both had saliva flowing all over our chins.

Fuck me. I was making out with Ms Brett.

Her body position was awkward; from the way her tongue was diving down my throat she didn't seem to care, but I wanted more; my arm was pinned against my lap, my other arm fumbling.

Unacceptable. So I took over, heaving my body up against hers in mid-kiss, feeling her squeak excitedly into my mouth when I reached around, scooping at her thigh, my fingers filled with her flesh; I dragged it sideways, her knee crossing my legs like a car barreling over a railroad track, but it worked: I had her straddling me at last, her solid thighs on both sides of my lap, and I settled back to see how she'd move.

Her hair, all dark kinks and swirls, fell over my head like a curtain, and I noticed she had her eyes closed as she devoured me. She pushed her body hard against mine from her formidable tits down to her mound, which she ground firmly against my erection. She enthralled me, her body so different than the firm, cool young pussy I'd been getting lately, and I was immediately lost in the way her flesh yielded under my grasping fingers.

So fucking sexy.

I lashed at her tongue, nipping playfully at her mouth, but by then the initial breathless madness was ending; she was sucking at my lips, experimentally, and then drifting off me with her hands on my chest, pushing back. Her eyes came open slowly, looking at me in disbelief.

"See?" She was panting, her eyes wide, and I made certain my voice was as calm and lazy as I could force it to be. My penis, awkwardly sideways, ached against her shorts. "Should've kissed me the other day." I leaned up, my lips darting, and stole another one. "Lauren."

"Oh my god," she blurted. If she'd been scarlet before, she was on fire now, her body whole and solid on top of mine, and once more I had to remind myself: this was Ms Brett. Ms Breast.

Lauren.

She was still panting, her hair a mess as she stared at my face. "No fucking way should we be doing this," she whispered, but of course her body was singing a different tune; she was already in motion, her hips grinding on me in small circles, almost as if she wasn't thinking about it. I felt her motion in my palms, resting lightly at the sides of her legs, right where skin met shorts.

"Okay." The smell of her hair was all around me. I badly wanted to fuck her. "I'll leave, then."

"Fuck," she grunted, and then she was straight back into my mouth, those full lips of hers prying mine open, and this time she just tasted like spit. Her hands kneaded at my chest, then curved around under my arms, up my back, fighting the couch cushions; I'd seldom felt such need. Her mound was a hot, thick weight on my penis, the need to adjust myself only slightly less urgent than the need to keep sucking on her tongue.

Lauren's body was sinuous on mine, and suddenly I had to feel her ass. My hands found their way up across the rough denim of her shorts, over the butt pockets, and then I was clamped onto her heaving body as our lips kept tasting each other.

She came up off me again, her forehead rolling against mine, both of us breathing hard into each other's open mouths. "Don't leave," she managed, her eyes looking like a cyclops at such close range. She kissed me again, softer. "Please."

"Why would I?" I slapped her ass twice, softly. "Sit up, just for a sec." She frowned. "You're hurting me."

Her eyes squinted, uncertain, but then they went wide. "Oh!" She disentangled her arms, pushing back up off me, then shuffled her butt back along my thighs; she was staring down at my lap when I dug my hand deep into my baggy shorts, inside my underwear, clawing my thick hard cock upright toward my belly button. The relief was like cold water on a hot day, and I sighed happily. She was staring keenly down, smiling.

"What?" I lay back into the cushions. "Never seen one before?" My head was poking out of the waistband of my underwear, a deep purple color, the precum shiny at the tip, and she bit her lip.

"Not for awhile," she admitted softly. She hesitated, and I took the lead; I wasn't shy.

"Take it out." It wasn't a suggestion, and I expected her to obey, so I wasn't surprised when she reached down for it. "Go on."

"It's... fuck." Tentatively, her hand found my shaft through my shorts, the pressure of her fingers making me twitch. "Fuck, Cameron. You shouldn't... I mean, we..."

"Take it out, Lauren." It occurred to me that this was probably very fast, by her standards; she was older, and hadn't grown up in a day and age where eighteen-year-olds think of blowjobs like her generation had thought of kisses. But whatever. I was ready to show off. "Now."

She raised herself up off me, her eyes wide, still in disbelief at what she was letting herself do, then I arched my butt off the couch and she got the message. She licked her lips and reached for my waistband, pulling, revealing my hard cock inch by inch, and I watched with a smile.

Like I say, I'm not shy. I like it when women know I'm hard for them.

"Oh my god," she muttered, leaving my shorts uncertainly about halfway down my thighs. My dick was a steel bar, fully exposed in her living room, my balls hanging low between my hairy thighs. "I can't believe this." She didn't seem to know quite what to do with it, and glanced up uncertainly at my face as I gave her ass a fond squeeze and then laced my hands behind my head.

Showtime.

"You see what you do to me, Ms Brett?" I hissed, feeling every heartbeat as they made my penis shudder.

"Fuck." She swallowed, then with a guarded look in her eye moved her hands carefully down to where my hipbones flanked my pubic hair, my dick massive in between. "Cameron, I... we shouldn't do this here." She swallowed and glanced at the stairs. "Now."

I smiled like a cat with a cornered mouse. "Shouldn't do what, Lauren?"

She'd never taken her eyes off my cock since the moment she'd exposed it, gazing at it the way a snake charmer watches a viper. "I... you know."

"Do I?" I was eyeing her tits greedily, her nipples trying hard to punch holes in her shirt. So fucking hot. "Tell me, Ms Brett. Tell me what we're doing."

She licked desperately at her lips, then tore her gaze up along my worn tanktop to my placid face. I was prepared to wait all day. "We can't."

"Can't what?" I took a hand carefully from behind my head, moving it slowly through the space between us toward where her shirt was stretched by those magnificent tits of hers; she watched it, her eyes widening, but at the last moment I moved my fingers not to her fat tit but to her face, stroking a cheek still moist with my saliva. She shuddered over me, a moan tearing from her throat. "What do you want to do with me, Lauren?"

She sighed, her face a war of emotions, then hung her head. "You know what I want to do with you." She watched as my penis pulsed like a living thing, her own hands creeping involuntarily inward, toward my pubes. "It's what you want to do with me."