This Ain't Literature

"I do." My throat had gone dry now.

"I'm glad," she said simply. "I want you to like them." She hesitated, clearly trying to decide what to do next, and I watched as her hands came around to unzip her shorts. "I like them too. They get a lot of attention." Her shorts fell, showing matching panties, a whisper of dark pubic hair behind the mesh and lace. "I like that kind of attention."

"Yeah?" My hand flopped back out, my fingers running lightly up her leg, from the knee up along her thigh. "You like knowing people like me are sitting in class getting hard when we look at you?" Her skin was soft. Warm. I let my hand linger at the side of her hip, where the panties crossed.

She went red, but nodded. "Fuck yes," she admitted, her eyes flitting back to my dick with a guilty smirk.

"And," I added, my voice starting to rasp, "do you ever think about acting on that?" My nail glided along the lace, at the top of her thigh, her panty line my roadmap to her pussy. She watched me move, saw my finger pause at the edge of the front of her panties, light on her mound, ready to slide inside.

"I'm thinking about it right the fuck now," she replied with a catch in her voice, arching slightly, and when I noticed the midday light from the window washing over goosebumps all up and down her legs I pushed my fingers inside her panties from the side, feeling coarse pubic hair on the back of my hand and soaked wetness on both sides. She was sopping, and I wasn't surprised. She took a shuffling step forward when I tugged her panties toward me like a leash. She gasped. "More than thinking." Her arms crooked out to the sides, working at the bra clasp on her spine while my probing, insistent fingers found her slit. "Mmm."

"I can read your mind," I told her, working two of them inside, feeling wetness and intense heat. Instinctively, Ms Brett cocked her right leg out a bit. "Not just your mind, either."

"Fuck." Her eyes were shining again, and by the time she got her bra undone I had both fingers all the way inside her, my thumb nudging at where I knew her clit would be hiding. The bra fell away, and I heard myself moan a little without even realizing it. "Look at what you're doing to me, Cameron." Her voice came out thick and husky, and at last I was there, doing what I'd wanted to do every day of senior year, what all my fellow graduates would have killed to be doing: I was staring at Lauren Brett's naked tits.

They jiggled above me, round and soft and fleshy and perfect, topped by long rose-pink nipples now reaching for me. I waggled my fingers in her snatch. "I think it's a definite, Ms Brett," I nodded as her leg eased a little further apart. "I really like your boobs."

She moved closer, her knees touching the edge of her mattress, and without waiting she swung her leg up over my thighs, planted her hands alongside my head, and suddenly she was hovering over me, her tits hanging glorious and perfect in my face. My hands, slick with pussy juice, cupped them reverentially. "Good." She was moving then, her lips on my neck, on my shoulders, her body lowered so that I felt those hard nipples dragging along my sparse chest hair. "Relax, Cameron." I heard more certainty in her voice now, my fingers full of her. "We've got time."

I looked down, wanting to watch as Ms Brett adored me, her body on mine. She moved lower, her nipples carving ski-tracks on my skin, and she brought the bedsheet with her. That first touch, when the flesh of her breasts brushed across my hard, naked cock, made my balls shiver. "Like that," I urged her, my voice low and gravelly. "So sexy."

She didn't reply, just dragging her tits over me, and it was undoubtedly the most sensual thing I'd ever experienced. She followed with kisses, everywhere, little nibbling licks at my nipples, my belly button, my balls. "I didn't get to play with these the other day," she whispered, her tongue weighing my testicle. "They're huge."

"We were in kind of a rush the other day," I murmured, on top of the world as her mouth moved down my inner thighs, her body in constant contact with mine.

"Kind of." She looked up at me, her body coiled, sexy on my legs, my cock firm and long beside her chin. I felt her fingers caressing my scrotum. "I hope I didn't make you late."

I laughed. "I spent the whole shift with your spit on my dick," I told her, stroking at the side of her face. "I loved that shit."

"I did too," she confessed, her big eyes watching me as she kissed once more, upward this time, starting at my hipbone, crossing my groin, onto the salty head of my penis, and then up toward my face with her big tits trailing once more. I'd never experienced this kind of slow build; I couldn't believe she was making me want her so badly.

Well, need. I'll admit it.

I waited until I smelled her hairspray, her rosy-cheeked face slithering up to steal a kiss, but before she could I pushed roughly at her shoulder, forcing her to her back with an undignified squawk. I was on her immediately, sucking hard on her near nipple while I twisted hard at the other one, and before either of us knew what was happening she was gasping, gutturally, in little puffs.

I buried myself in her tits, the flesh welcoming me even as my dick laid a snail-trail along her skin down below when I threw my leg between hers. "Fuck!" she bit out, tersely, and then her hand was clawing below to get at my swinging balls, the penis bobbing above her flesh as I kissed hungrily down her body, marking every inch of her soft flesh. I wanted her husband to see, to know what I'd done to his wife, and Ms Brett wanted it to. "Yes," she was sobbing breathlessly as I reached her panties, my hands hooking over the waistband and clawing them down.

Becky tells me I'm not very good at eating pussy, but in fairness to me most girls my age don't really expect it. I guessed Lauren Brett would love every fucking second. But then most girls my age shave, or at least trim drastically, and as my face skirted the thick triangle of hair Ms Brett had above her slit, I smelled the wet-animal smell of pussy and I kept sucking at her skin right past her belly button, along her bush, and straight into the moist hot center of her need for me.

She hissed above me, her body arching the moment my mouth found her slash. She tasted rich and musky, deeply intoxicating on my lips, and when I stabbed my tongue experimentally at her hole she tried desperately to back away from me. I popped my head up, then squeezed her nipple in a painful pinch. "Don't you back away from me, Lauren," I spat, my fingers tracing at the sides of her pussy lips. I wondered how she'd react if I smacked her there, then decided she'd like it.

I swatted at her labia like a man slapping at a recalcitrant dog, and she howled like one. "Fuck!" It came out as a strangled cry. "You're going to make me cum, Cameron! I can't..." She sounded ashamed, but I wasn't having any of that shit.

"Then stay here and cum," I snarled impatiently, and when I smacked her pussy again she screamed ecstatically. This was surreal. I was drunk with my power over this woman, and I dove right back in, my tongue and jaw working in a random pattern between her glorious full thighs, her feet thrashing above me.

When she came she did it screeching. If I'd wanted to find out whether she'd scream my name when I made her cum, I got my answer in spades. Because I could still hear her, loudly, even with her legs clapped over my ears. "Shit! Cameron!" Her feet drummed on my back, my tongue and fingers busy inside her, and I felt a deep wave of satisfaction as Ms Brett squirmed.

And I hadn't even fucked her yet.

She was wheezing as I backed out, flinging her boneless legs wide on the mattress. "Jesus, Cameron," she panted, her eyes liquid, and I knelt above her sweaty body with my dick waving angrily in front of me. I wanted to fuck the shit out of her. My thoughts went to the new box of condoms I'd forgotten in my glove compartment, but I wasn't about to head out and grab them so that I could glove up. Ms Brett would just have to take her chances and get fucked bare.

Whatever. She was probably on birth control.

"Listen, Lauren," I told her, my hand jerking loosely at my cock while she tried to recover, "I'm going to fuck you now. And I'm going to fuck you hard and fast and vicious." Her pussy gaped red and swollen below me, and I swatted it again. She whimpered deliriously. "Got that?"

"Yes, Cameron. Oh yes." She was incoherent, but her hands weren't as they reached down to take my cock and shove it into her. I licked my lips, looking greedily down at her tits squeezing together between her stretching arms. She was beautiful, all soft pliable flesh for me, offered for my enjoyment, and I was going to take her. "Fuck me," she spat, finally getting hold of my head and pulling it hard, and I propped my arms beside her head, looming over her spread legs, over her wet needy pussy, and let her pull me to meet it.

I kept my eyes low, along our bodies, as I sank inside her. I can never get enough of watching myself enter a woman, especially as sexy a woman as this. She was soaked, and I slipped in easily, not even needing to coax her or wait for her to widen; she'd been ready for this for days, I realized as my pubes met hers, her head thrown back below me.

I leaned down, hungry, nipping at her ears and neck, savoring her salt sweat, her arms wrapping tightly around me. She craned up in search of a kiss, her mouth wide, and I obliged; my tongue and my cock slipped into her at the same moment, and I tasted her gasp.

I wanted her to ride me. I wanted to take her from behind, brutally, like a conquering warrior. But that could wait. Right now I needed to see her face when I thrust into her, so I kept my eyes on her florid cheeks, her open mouth, her slitted eyes, and I drove into her like a machine. I wanted to use her, to treat her like nothing but a tunnel for my cock, and she was just going to have to lie there and take it.

I wrenched myself out of her arms so that I could amuse myself watching her tits respond to the way I fucked her; predictably, Ms Brett moved her arms straight down to my ass, clutching hard, leaving marks. I clamped my hands on her shoulders in turn, seeking leverage, pounding her.

And god, could she take it. Her body absorbed me eagerly, even greedily, her mouth a wide dreamy grin while she gave herself to me. She was strong and tight and made to fuck, made to take a man; if her husband couldn't figure that out, it was his loss and my gain. I bent low, my own sweat falling from my forehead to hers, and grated into her ear while my dick carved into her pussy.

"Bet you never thought you'd be giving up that wet pussy to a former student, did you?" I gloated, not needing an answer. Her nipples moved in frantic circles. "You love it, though. You love that hard young cock digging into your sloppy fucking hole." I jammed into her, three times, viciously, to punctuate my words, and she cried out breathlessly. "Want that dick, Lauren?"

"Yes!" she screamed, shuddering again, her hands an iron cage on my surging ass.

"Want my cum? Want it deep in that nasty pussy?"

"Yes!" It was even louder this time, and even if it hadn't been I could hardly escape her; she was pulling me into her with desperate strength, holding my meat deep inside, and my orgasm was coming on fast like a gathering wave at an unsuspecting beach.

It was going to feel so fucking good to cum into her.

I sped up, each thrust deliberate now, a nudge at her cervix with each teeth-clenched push, and she had her eyes open staring up at me with... was it need, still? Want? Her lips moved, whispering "Cum, baby," and I lost it as with one final thrust far into her grasping pussy I let go.

My head sank down onto the pillow beside hers, my breath coming in a shuddered gasp as my dick leapt inside her. She was cooing into my ear, her arms back up around my shoulders, and through the red haze of my orgasm I picked up some of it: you're so big, Cameron, fuck me, yeah... but it was completely unnecessary then, my semen firing far into her in a series of powerful hot spurts, and in that moment she was mine, completely mine, my cum bathing her insides.

She was crying a bit, cracked little sobs and a track of tears slipping out from beneath her eyelids, so I licked them away and gave a long, wet kiss, my cock still stretched long and hard within her spastic pussy. Her body yielded beneath mine, perfect, sexy. Mine, now; her husband could go fuck himself.

I stayed inside her another minute or so, our sweating bodies close and tangled, looking down at where I was still stuffed inside her. She stirred at last. "You're still hard as a rock."

"In literature," I smiled, "that's called an idiom."

"This ain't literature," she laughed, a deep throaty laugh. "This is fucking."

"Well," I shrugged, flexing my dick. She giggled. "Can you blame me?" I nipped once more at her nipple and checked the clock. "Just let me know when you're ready for more, Ms Brett," I mocked, and she shivered a little underneath me. "I could fuck you all goddamn day."

"I'm going to call Noah's mom," Ms Brett sighed happily, her eyelids fluttery. "I think Finn will be going over for playdates a little more often now."

* * *

A couple weeks later I came home from Finn's latest lesson before work with gummy pubes, only to find my mom waving an envelope at me. "It's from the Air Force," she moaned, looking on in distaste as I drank a deep swig of milk straight from the carton.

"No shit?" Good. That would probably be my language assignment; the recruiter had told me they liked to give linguists a little advance warning, where possible, so that we could do some studying. I wiped my mouth on the back of my wrist and grabbed the envelope. "Probably my assignment."

"Fuck." No mystery, really, where I'd gotten my foul mouth from. "You said it was going to be Spanish, right? Or something like that?"

"Relax, mom." I thumbed the envelope open with a hand still clotted with Ms Brett's fluids. My dick felt raw and greasy in my briefs; Ms Brett had finally let me have her asshole that day. It had been a blast (several blasts, technically), but it had taken a lot of lube. "The recruiter told me I was fine as long as I didn't test into Arabic. He said they already had a bunch of those." I frowned at the paper, not accustomed to the military formatting, then cocked my head sideways. "Huh."

"What?" She stubbed out her cigarette and went for another.

"Nothing." I shrugged. "I've just never heard of 'Dari.' I wonder where that's spoken."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this little walk on the icky side. I'm not sure I like Cameron, but he wanted to be written. So here he is.

Thanks for reading.