Yes, Sir Ch. 01: The Old Dog

'Wouldn't dare,' he said with a smirk.

Then, after a thought, I asked him, 'Send it to me?'

We spent an awkward, half-asleep moment with our phones exchanging numbers, and then I had a photo of myself, well-fucked and covered in a stranger's cum. My face, as promised, cut off at my mouth, and I was fairly sure I wasn't recognisable. That was good enough for me.

I couldn't say why I wanted the photo - maybe it was a way for me to remember this night.

How I lost my virginity.

A dirty little secret, and the only evidence this had ever happened.

Proof.

Angus

Morning broke.

The feeling of her body against mine was... warm. Pleasant. My phone, on my chest, held within it the proof of the night, but this moment was proof, too. I was naked, beneath the slumbering form of a girl whose name I'd forgotten, if ever learned. The room stank of sex, and I could feel that delicious ache in my muscles that told me that the hours of exercise had taken their toll.

She shifted, looking up at me through bleary eyes. In the sober light of the morning, she frowned, sitting up quickly.

Her body, revealed by the lack of covers, was just as beautiful in the morning light. Her face, a mask of confusion and panic, melted as she saw I wasn't doing anything.

'Mornin',' I said.

'Hi,' she said, before taking on a serious tone. 'I don't know what to say. I've never done anything like this before.'

'What, a one-night stand?' I asked. 'Me neither, to be honest. If you want, I can sneak out without Jack knowing I was ever here. Or, I can take you to breakfast.'

At that, her eyes lit up. 'Breakfast?'

I shrugged, sitting up, bringing myself up to her face. 'I worked up a bit of an appetite,' I said, the heat between us reigniting through the intimacy of the moment. I caught her biting her lip, and she blushed.

'Food could be nice,' she said. 'And a coffee?'

'Mmm,' I hummed, liking the sound of that. 'You came up for the weekend, right? How are you getting home?'

'I have a bus,' she said. 'At one. What time is it?'

I opened my phone, triggering that memory in her. She gave out a soft laugh as I checked the time.

'God, that photo,' she said. 'I can't believe...'

'What we did?' I finished her sentence. She nodded. 'It was good though.'

She smiled. 'It was... amazing.'

'Yeah?'

She nodded, her hair falling over her chest as she leaned in. 'What time is it?'

'Almost ten,' I said.

'We have time, then,' she said, kissing me softly. 'To work up more of an appetite.'

She lifted herself onto me, her leg sliding across my hips until she was settled, the heat of her sex soaking into me, my cock growing hard beneath her.

'Fuck,' I moaned into her as she kissed me.

Then, as she lifted herself up, I shifted, and this gorgeous, anonymous girl sank herself down onto my cock with a flutter and a sigh.

'You're so big,' she moaned.

'You're so wet,' I challenged. Instead, she just nodded, starting to ride me - nice and slow, the light of the grey Glaswegian day basking her in white, making her glow.

'What's your name?' I asked, but she shook her head.

'No,' she said. 'It's more... special if we don't know.'

I laughed, grinding into her as she gasped. We sped up, her arms around my neck as we made love in the morning light.

Kayla

That breakfast and coffee didn't happen. Or, at least, didn't happen in the way it was intended; instead of a cute coffee-shop morning with small talk and smiles, I spent the first few hours of my Sunday riding this stranger's cock.

After that, he spent a good half hour enjoying watching me try to give him a blowjob, my limited amount of experience meeting his impressive girth to make me look like a fool when I could barely get more than his pink, hot head inside my mouth. Instead, I licked and kissed and worshipped his cock, both on the bed, and kneeling beneath him as he stood over me, naked as the day he was born, hairy and masculine and ugh GOD I couldn't believe this guy was my first.

After that, once we had dressed and showered and awkwardly thanked each other for the night, he drove me to a service station and bought me that coffee, alongside a bacon roll. He got me to the coach station in time for one o'clock, but didn't wait for me to go; instead, as I climbed onto the vehicle, he sped off back to whatever he was doing that day.

It wasn't until an hour later when he texted me - I didn't have his name saved, but his number was in my phone, along with the first message, last night.

An image.

I blushed, hiding my phone from anyone else on the bus who might see it, and scrolled to the new message.

Let me know the next time you're in Glasgow.

The flutter in my stomach should have told me that I was feeling something... new. Something strong. I tried to rationalise it by thinking that I had lost my virginity to this guy, of course I felt something. A connection.

Soon after, I got off the bus and started my walk home, not far outside of Glasgow, and certainly not far enough for it to be unthinkable to see him again.

I got home by about two, my body aching and my pussy sore, ears ringing and my heart thumping. I was certain that my mum would be able to feel it on me - smell it, or notice a difference.

But, as I stepped into the living room, she looked up from her phone as she was lounging on the sofa, tea in hand, and smiled. 'Good concert?'

I nodded, giving her a smile. Then, realising she might find out about the cancellation, I changed tune. 'Well, it was cancelled, but we found another gig, a small one.'

I'd said 'we' as, to my mum's knowledge, I'd very much not gone alone to Glasgow.

She nodded, smiling in that way she did when she was finished with a conversation. 'Aw, lovely. You ready for school tomorrow?'

I groaned, and left to go upstairs. Back to normal - to my room, my bed, my bedsheets.

My hairbrush.

Angus

The evening was a bit... odd.

Empty, I would say.

Jack cracked a joke about not seeing me or Kayla all night after a certain point - which is also how I re-discovered her name. Once he said it, as I sat at that bar in the early afternoon as he mopped the floor, the memory popped back to me. Her name, said in passing while I barely paid attention.

I opened my phone, confident there was no one behind me, and added her as a contact whilst trying - and failing - to avoid looking at the photo I'd sent her last night. Kayla. It almost felt wrong, knowing her name. Like it was a betrayal of the night we'd shared. It was something so... anonymous. So singular. We'd done it, together, and there was a good chance it wouldn't happen again, and that was the thrill of it.

One night, that was all.

I spent my night, back in that flat, away from the music and the drinking and the noise, and instead opted for a quiet night of ironing my shirts ready for the week, making myself a pasta dish with homemade tomato sauce, before settling in for an early night.

My sheets were colder than the night before, and the lack of company noticeable. I found myself opening that picture again, going between that image and her name.

Kayla.

Naked, spread, cum-painted and - just at the top of the image - smiling.

Even though the sight of her was... intoxicating, I knew I was spent, and that doing anything with myself, tonight, would feel like a shameful echo of last night.

So, as I closed the image, plugged in my phone, and rolled over, I was left with a simple thought. Would I see her again?

The thought carried me into the next day, her face, her heat, refusing to leave my mind. The memory of her was stubborn, and I wasn't too eager to push it out anyway. It was a welcome thought - usually.

Of course, when I received a phone call at about 8:30 the next morning, and was given my location-of-the-day, I had to put it out of mind. I called ahead, to let them know I would be able to get there by 10 at the earliest, and they thanked me - which is a good sign. So, Kaylay's form put to the back of my mind, I grabbed my work bag, threw on a blazer, and started my commute.

Of course, an hour and a half in the car left a lot of time for the mind to wander, and more than once I had to rely on the radio to keep my thoughts from settling comfortably into a rerun of last night.

By the time I rocked up, it was almost ten. I parked alongside the staff and other teachers, and made my way into the building, only quickly glancing at the name of the school as I entered the front office.

Walton Gray Secondary School.

How smart.

Kayla

'She slipped and snapped her ankle,' Rebecca hissed, her voice a near-constant in the hubbub of school life; no matter where you were, she'd be just within earshot, chattering. 'My aunt works in the hospital and told my mum on Whatsapp this morning; total shitshow, apparently.'

It was nearly ten o'clock, and we were supposed to have Mrs. Wall for English Literature next lesson - seeing as I wanted to go to Uni for Literature, and we have exams coming up in a few weeks, it was rather important to me that she not fuck up her ankle so badly she couldn't teach us, so I wasn't happy.

That was the other side of being the oldest person in your year - once I hit the highest year group, I'd become the oldest person in my school - not counting teachers or staff, of course.

With that came all of the social pressures, particularly around sex, sure; but there was another side to it. The pressure from the parents and teachers who saw me as the oldest, and therefore the most... mature. The assumption that I would go off to University and be a success was nauseating.

Maybe that was part of the reason I'd done what I had over the weekend. A need to rebel.

Either way, as the bell rang, I walked in the crowd of people I half-knew, going from one grey room to another, knowing that the usual tonic of knowing that an English lesson was at least useful to me wasn't there today, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. What if people knew? What if people talked? What if my mum saw that photo?

God, it was horrid to think of.

But, equally... as I walked in this crowd, I was in amongst people who had learned to consider me frigid and cold - boys who had long ago stopped bothering with me, girls who had started to suck dick just to rival their perception of me - and none of them knew that I was still aching from how hard a stranger had fucked me. None of them knew I'd been filled with his cum, and that despite the birth control I was on, I had spent time in the shower washing myself out, hoping to god I wasn't pregnant. None of them knew I'd spent the night fucking myself to the memory of his cock, and how it felt to be so bad.

None of them knew.

I travelled through the halls of Walton Gray until we reached Mrs. Wall's usual room, filing in alongside the other sixth-formers who were hoping for a literary University course in their future. There were only about fifteen of us, but the ones I liked were Danny, Karina, and Francisca - Frankie. Frankie bounced up to me as we went in.

'Have you seen the sub?' she asked, a glow in her face. Frankie was a slut, well and truly, but she was a cute one. She only slept with her boyfriends - but boyfriends tended to last about a month on average. Apparently, she'd started taking note of who in the year had the biggest cock, although it was a metric she wasn't sharing with anyone just yet. Maybe she wanted a larger sample size.

I settled into my seat, and looked up just as he walked in.

I could have cried.

For a moment, his eyes sort of... slid over me. Then, with a grey look in his eye, they found me again, and the look on his face must have mirrored my own.

Then, he switched gears, going all professional. Meanwhile, I could have screamed.

He was a teacher.

He was a FUCKING teacher.

Angus

She was a FUCKING schoolgirl.

A huge thank-you to:

Obi

Mannie_RSF

Peer Henze

Sindre Bjørnhjell

Simon Haynes

Flarevirtue

Sole

Mithos16

Your support can never be overstated, and will never go under appreciated <3