Helenas Research Paper

A triplet of knocks sound at the door.

"Mr. Stenson?"

"Yes Ms. Helena?"

I look up to notice you at the door. Well, to be fair I knew exactly who it was from the moment your voice cracked the silence of my classroom. However I looked anyways, admittedly curious as to your appearance. I had noticed you in class before, and it's not as if you hadn't made sure that I was keenly aware of you. I had most assuredly made notice of how you sat front and center of the class. I had most assuredly made notice of how you had sat in the seat closest to my lecture chair at the front of the class.

"It's about this research assignment, I was wondering if I could have some clarification."

You said clarification, however I heard inspection. Sure, the words sound nothing alike, but at this point my mind was devastatingly distracted. I knew you hadn't worn that skirt to class this morning as it was definitely against the dress code. I mean I know that it isn't incredibly and wildly out of dress code, but the way it shows off your thighs is downright sinful. And I know for a fact you hadn't been wearing heels earlier.

"Well sure, anything for you ma'am. What exactly is it you need clarified?"

You had somehow made it over to my desk during my response. Or was it while I was fixated on your more... lower extremities?

"Well sir, it's about the topic." You sort of mumbled while you edged around my desk. Are you possibly nervous?

There's no way you're nervous. I'm the one that's so taken with a presence here. Don't think I haven't noticed how you gently grinded your leg against the desk, bending your knee towards me. I know something is up here, I just haven't figured it out yet.

It's probably my own distractions that are blinding me to the obvious.

"I wanted some help with a research topic. I was thinking about powerful women during the medieval times. You know, how they practically ruled Europe with sex?"

Well now I was definitely out of it. With your pronunciation of the word sex, that same leg that had just recently found itself sliding against my desk now found itself within inches of my hand. My had left its perch on my chairs armrest and moved the minor inches left. The gap was closed and the tip of my middle finger barely found your soft skin for a brief moment.

I could see the goosebumps immediately saturate the area of conquest.

My gut started to churn... I was definitely out of bounds here... and yet my finger lingered.

"What about them?" I replied.

"Well sir," you mumble, "I was wondering if the topic would be appropriate for the paper?"

I must have been dreaming, but I could have sworn in that moment that you lifted your knee as I pulled my finger away in order to prevent the separation of contact.

I relinquished... and instead of pulling back I let the offending finder graze across you. Soon another finger found itself following in the footsteps of its predecessor.

There was no reason for my fingertips to be finding themselves on the inners of your thighs. There was no reason for your skirt to be pushed up the barest of half inches that it was either.

"As long as the paper is properly researched and you've kept it within the confines of the acquisition of influential power in government I don't see a problem. You are of course, an adult. I trust that you can handle a topic of this gravity."

You were definitely encouraging me at this point. You had moved even closer, forcing me to either lay the palm of my hand on an even higher plane of existence or relinquish contact entirely.

I chose the prior.

"I'm glad you're okay with my topic choice Mr. Stenson." Your hands suddenly found themselves upon mine, guiding them upwards... "I would have been so disappointed if you had made me choose another topic."

"Now for the research, you'll have to be thorough." I said as you slide my fingers higher. I notice your chest heaving at an increased pace, bringing my notice to your swelling bosom.

A bead of sweat was already trailing down into your cleavage.

You bite your lower lip as I stand, my hand now held to a dear place with both of yours entrapping it.

"You might have to start early on it."

"I was planning on it." You whisper...

Your heat is palpable and your breath is thunderous. I can barely even register how badly my own situation is. I'm pretty much just moving on instinct now. One of my fingers... one that is situated in a rather precarious place... begins to move in a slightly circular motion.

I would have begun to unbutton your rather baggy shirt by this point, and I did make a move to do so with my free hand. However you beat me too it, trusting me to remain with my current motions. Instead I find my other hand pulling you to me by way of your lower back.

You never really do completely get your shirt undone, but you do manage to expose a rather large amount of unbound cleavage before our lips meet.

I'm pretty sure we skipped the silly part where we test how the other likes to kiss. Instead we're mashing our lips together as if we've been panicked to do so for so very long.

You've started to grind on my hand, and I've long since graduated to moving aside the remaining offending garments from what I've needed.

A finger slips inside and you let loose a most guttural of groans. It's music to me. Immediately your grinding elevates, and I begin searching for that singularly most pleasurable of places. But instead I don't really get a chance. I'm not sure if you were merely so worked up by now that you wanted to accelerate our task, or if it was our environment. If it was the environment of my classroom and the obviously precarious situation we were in then you were far more coherent that I was. Quickly you turn to me, pressing yourself from behind to my groin. I get the message and together we fight each other over who is more capable of freeing me from beneath the constraints of my slacks. I end up winning that particular contest, and it doesn't take long before I'm solidly pressed between your legs.

My member is fully erect and slid between the apex of your legs. Its heat pressed to your lower stomach as if to warn of how deeply penetrating any further action might physically result in. Our dry, grinding motions can't hold out much longer. There will have to be some culmination of events here. My arms are locked around you, cupping your perfectly proportioned breasts, so instead you guide me where we both so desperately desire to be.

Pressed against your entrance I can feel the searing liquid heat tempt me. A bead of my own lubricant escapes and joins the fray. I don't press forward until you initiate by pressing backwards. With that I lunge forward, deeply thrusting into where society dictates I should never venture. The ribbing of your interior is so vibrantly apparent to me. The intensity of the moment cannot be understated. It's all that I can do to stop myself from releasing that very instant. And of course you're not helping with the crudely sensual grinding. With my nose buried within the crick of your neck, and my more intimate place successfully buried elsewhere within you, I suddenly realize just how pleasurable this must be for you.

After the initial entrance, I for one pause for a moment to contain myself. In this moment I can feel so vividly the pounding and quaking of your core upon me. It's an intoxicating realization to experience. Your liquid pours over me, searching for either escape from within or relief from this intrusion.

I allow you no time. After the moment has passed and I've caught my bearings I refuse to allow you to lower your echoing heartbeat. With this I begin a slow and methodical thrusting. Yes, it is slow. No, it is not gentle. I have waited so long for this moment. A slow and tedious retreat is repeatedly followed by a thunderous and disturbingly loud thrust forward.

I delight in your animalistic responses. I allow them to drive me further into you than I thought possible. With every thrust I flex myself to my most engorged of situations. With every completed impact of hips to ass, I enjoy the precious touch of your cervix to myself. It's such a precious and valuable thing to be so joined with another person. Especially such a person as delicious as yourself.

My finger intertwine themselves within your hair and grind against your skull, pulling against the roots with an appropriate pressure. My teeth gently bite into your neck and a free hand gently finds your throat.

It's a reminder of the dominating position we find ourselves.

By now we've graduated from simple though impactful thrusts. By now we've synchronized our thrusts. We're no longer so concentrated on rhythm as we are in stimulation. Our breaths have become equally erratic and our verbalizations a mixture of heavenly praises and curses. One of your hands is too busy bracing yourself upon my desk, though the other has found the location of my violation and is violently seeking further release.

"Ohhhhh my Go-Jesus Mr. Stenson please just yes oh for the love of would you but don't you please just please oh my God just please!"

With that your knees give out and your left thigh begins to quake with a violent climax. Your chin smashes downward on my gripping hand and you bite hard as we share a most complete of finalizations. My fluids meet yours in a soaking flow. Jets of pinned in passion are released while the tip of me presses as deeply as I can force it.

My non bitten arm holds you up as we heave and sway together. Our bodies moving is the most unflattering of ways as evidence of how incredible the passion has been.

Here we are... coming down from a desperately need mutual exchange of intellectual research.

And only now do we realize how dark it has become outside.