Teacher Nows His Subject!

"God, this is going to be a long day," she thinks, as she shakes the rain from her jacket, throws it over her chair and plops down in front of a PC in the first row. She gets out her pen, opens her book and takes a glance at the class syllabus. "UGH! Dull, dull and duller!" she mutters to herself as she sees the endless list of subjects to be covered by the end of the second day.

One by one, the other students filter in, muttering about the traffic, rain, and difficulty finding the address in the storm. Names are exchanged, along with insincere interest. The conversation stalls.

Ten minutes late, the teacher arrives. She shamefully gives him the once-over. Ok. Not unpleasant. Rather short. Nice shoulders, though. He puts down his briefcase and pulls out his notes. When he glances up finally, their eyes meet. "Shazaam!" she thinks. "Magnetic eyes. This won't be so bad, after all."

The morning flies by. The intensity of the subject keeps her focused mainly on her screen, his voice directing her thoughts and actions. Occasionally, someone asks for assistance and he readily goes to their desk and gently explains the process again. She watches the way he moves as he leans over and points to the various icons on the screens. When he glances up, their eyes lock again. "Damn, I hope he can't tell what I'm thinking," she says to herself.

"Ok, class, let's take our lunch break now. I need you to be back here at 1:15PM and you should have Exercise I completed by then," he instructs. Most of the class immediately bolts for the door, anxious for a change in scenery. For some reason, she decides to complete her exercise before lunch, somewhat afraid of forgetting what she's learned before the hour passes. The assignment goes pretty well, for a while, then...total confusion. She looks up at the teacher as he leans against his stool, a tall Starbucks in one hand, the sports section spread out over the desk.

"Keith, I have a question about our assignment...could you..."

Startled, he turns suddenly. Coffee and student collide, sloshing lukewarm latte down her white shirt. His face flushes as he realizes what he's done. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Here, let me get some paper towels! Follow me," he blurts as he pulls her by the arm around the corner and into what appears to be a janitor/supply closet. The door slowly slides shut behind them and the "snick" of the latch goes unnoticed.

He rips open a roll of paper towels and begins hastily swiping at her shirt in total confusion and embarrassment. Not quite knowing how to react, she stands motionless, enjoying his flustered state. Looking down, she sees him pause as he realizes her white shirt is now mostly transparent and plastered to her skin and bra, revealing the outline of her lace-covered nipples. His movements slow, becoming strokes of his fingers rather than swipes with the paper towels. He tears his eyes away and looks up into her face. One corner of her mouth twitches into a half-smile as she meets his gaze. His fingers travel to the buttons, undoing them, one at a time.

With one last slight hesitation, he pauses briefly before he lowers his mouth to slowly lick the drips of cream-laden latte from between her breasts. He undoes the front of her bra and draws it's wetness slowly away from her breasts. The cold air and wet coffee have her nipples at attention. His mouth encloses one as a hand envelops the other. He presses her back against the shelves as their bodies take over and they become a squirming mass of hands and lips and tongues and skin. Her hand quickly slides his zipper down and reaches in to grasp him. They stroke each other's exposed skin greedily, desperately. He pulls her hips against him, thrusting against her.

"Please, quickly!" she whispers as she unbuttons her jeans. Taking her lead, he turns her around and with a hand on each hip, exposes her soft, round ass. Grabbing his cock with one hand and the back of her neck with the other, he leans her over the shelf and slams into her hard and fast. They become animals. Gasping and grunting. Pure fucking. Faster. Harder. "Yes! Oh, yes!" she whispers. The shelf shakes with every thrust. Bottles, mops, toilet paper rolls fall to the floor around them. Suddenly, he makes one last, long, hard stroke and she feels his cock jerking and spurting inside her. Thick juices spill down the insides of her thighs. He holds her tight against him for a long moment as he feels her contracting around him. He runs his hands slowly over her breasts and nuzzles her ear with his lips as their heartbeats slow.

Reaching across the shelf, her hand encounters what she is searching for.

"Paper towel?" she asks.