Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Rachel: I don’t think those three people are the best test of diligence, given their track record on the first two exams, but I’ll make a circle around the room and scope out the situation.
Me: Great. And then after that, you should take a trip to my dick and scope out that situation too. Did you really just pull that phone out from between your tits? Like, that happened, right? I didn’t imagine it?
Rachel: Ty, we’re in the middle of an exam.
Me: Yes. And then after that, we’re going to be in the middle of fucking on my desk. What’s your point? I need to know the ins and outs of the titty phone conference.
Rachel: There was a point, but I can see now that I’d forgotten who I was talking to. And this outfit doesn’t have pockets. It’s the only place to keep it.
Me: I also do not have a pocket to stay in. Please keep me there.
I watch her smother a smile with her hand from across the room.
Rachel: Ty, you shouldn’t be talking about my boobs right now. Or sex on your desk, for cripes’ sake.
Me: Are you really saying you’re not picturing it right now? Your back on my desk with your tits in my hands and your perfect nipples in my mouth?
I hit send, then type out another, and hit send on that one too.
Me: What about how wet your pussy is going to be? You’re telling me you can sit here, in this quiet room, without thinking about that?
When she doesn’t respond, I keep going.
Me: How about the way you moan when you come? And how your eyes just barely flutter before you can’t keep them open anymore? Or the way you bite into the sexy center of your bottom lip to keep from screaming? What about that? I, for one, am thinking about those things right now. I think about them all the time, actually.
I lean back in my chair again, empty essay sections of the exam forgotten. All I care about now is watching the way Rachel’s breathing has seemed to shallow and the way that makes her heavy tits move.
She is truly, in my opinion, the perfect specimen of a woman. Round and lush and curvy. She has so much tits and ass, I could get lost in just those two things for at least a week.
Rachel: Ty, I don’t think about any of that.
I raise a skeptical eyebrow in her direction and type two words into my phone.
Me: You don’t?
Rachel: No.
What the fuck?
A frown settles into the corners of my mouth, and I put my fingers to the screen of my phone, eager to call her out on her bullshit. I stop and calm, though, when she leans into a spot against the back wall, her head tilted down and her fingers moving quickly. The bubbles on my screen confirm that she’s typing, and for one of the first times in my nearly four decades on earth, I decide to wait it out—to think before I act.
Rachel: I think about the way you start to breathe heavier when you’re getting close. And the way your voice turns gritty just before you come, as if your orgasm takes something from it. I think about the way you always know just the right pace and the right pressure, and how sexy your veins are in your forearms when you’re looming over me. I think about the way your warm, hard body feels next to my soft and curvy one, and I think about how you always, without fail, make me feel like the most sensual woman in the world while we’re having sex.
Well, fuck me. I stand corrected.
Me: Ah, I see. Yeah, I have to agree. I guess that stuff’s good too.
I look up into the stairway on the left side of the classroom to watch her look at her phone and smile. Her eyes find mine, and that’s all it takes to send my cock into a half-hard version of itself. I’m starting to think I don’t want any of these fucking kids to find the essay portion of the exam, I want it to be over so bad. I mean, screw it, I can grade on a curve.
Rachel shakes her head as if she can read my mind and resumes the task of checking out papers and answering questions from any student who happens to raise their hand.
After this many years teaching, I’m always mystified by how many of them would rather wallow in the absolute dark than chancing asking a simple question and getting told they can’t get an answer.
The psyche of humans, it seems, is a little too universal. The thought of rejection in any form often prevents trying. The truth is, the odds aren’t all that bad when you ask people for stuff. Sure, they can say no, but there’s also a chance they say yes.