Illicit and Torrid Teacher

He’s handsome, older, and oh sooo smart. He’s the epitome of sexy. And he’s your teacher. Oh you know, you shouldn’t even be thinking of him this way, but how can you help it? Every part of you wants to own him. Maybe it’s because you want his power, maybe because you want domination, or maybe because he’s so damn hott!!

Every class session you have together it’s like the room consists of just you two. His mouth, oh that mouth. You’ve memorized the contours, the colors, and the shapes they make as the words come out. What words? Well, a girl can’t concentrate when she’s looking at a god, but it is surely something intelligent and delectable, especially since those lips said them.

However, as time passes and classes end and begin, and inevitably end, you find yourself wishing, wanting more. Maybe you can tempt the fates and seduce him. Oh, sure he’s a teacher. But,….you two can be…discreet. Verryyy discreet. Nonetheless, after gathering the courage, scheming the scenario, taking all the steps…when the time comes, you just can’t do it. Or can you? Maybe this time it’ll work. You’ve realized he stays behind after class for a good 20 minutes, long enough for everyone to clear out of the classroom. No witnesses equal more success right?

The plan? Well, this time you printed out your essay, but added a little something to the end. A little, personal statement if you will. Something that you’d like to accomplish while in school. Something no boy can deny, much less a grown man.

Sitting, waiting, watching him, trying to gauge what his reaction will be, that’s what the class consists for you. You shift your papers around, staring at the last sentence on that last page. No one notices, and just as planned, class is dismissed and every practically jumps out of their seats and runs for freedom. But not you, what is freedom without him? An apartment without this man is like a cathedral without god. It’s just wrong.

You tense up, a little worried about what will happen. But, internally you tell yourself, “F*ck this, I’m gonna try!!” You pack up all but your paper and look at him. You see him staring at you, not unkindly. It sparks that candle inside of you, like all his smirks, laughs, and smiles do.

“Professor Kirschner…” you say, as you get up from your seat and walk over to him, the paper in your hands.

“Yes?” he replies, looking at you and sitting on the end of his desk.

“I would like you to look my paper over, tell me if I’m getting anything wrong.” He holds his hand out and you give him your paper. Silence ensues as he reads the paper, thank god it’s only three pages long, or else this anticipation would kill you. You watch his eyes skimming the paper quickly, skilled and glorious. You love when his eyes catch yours in class, but being able to watch them is satisfying in and of itself. The way they flitter, open, close, open; the eyelashes quickly blinking. Then he gets to the fourth page, where, in the middle of the page your sentence is printed. He reads it twice, you can tell as you intently follow his glance. The corner of his lip pulls up. And his eyes shoot up, meeting yours.

It takes you aback, his glance. It’s different from the glances you get in class. It’s glazed over with something new, something, lustful.

“Lucy, I think the paper is quite interesting. That last part, did you write it yourself?” His question seems to be testing the waters, your heart skips a beat.

“Yes, I did. Was it okay?” You search for approval, the slightest hint that he’s accepted the proposal. But you don’t have to wait long, he breaks away from the conversation, placing the paper on the table and moving to the door. At first you think he is leaving you, upset and uncomfortable. But then you realize what he is doing, he’s closing the door. You hear the click of the door as it locks, then, he does something you wouldn’t have expected. He turns the lights off. The two of you plummet into temporary darkness as your eyes get used to the drastic change.

As your eyes adjust you see him pealing his jacket off, oh, how you’ve wanted to see him without that jacket. Wanted to see his shirt stick to his body and divulge his shape. And you are not disappointed.

“Lucy, you know, in government, it’s about a balance of power. Do you know what happens when that balance is toyed with?” As he says this, he slowly crosses the room, walking past you swiftly and to the windows.

“No, what happens?” You lie, hoping to hear more of his sultry voice. You like how it vibrates inside you, making your world feel like a small earthquake has just shaken you.

He pulls one blind shut, “Well, the government falls apart….unless….”

“Unless?” you question, turning to face him now that he’s moved to the window to your side.

“Unless, the government is able to withstand the power change, able to adapt to it.” The second and last window’s blinds are shut.

“I think…our government would be able to withstand any power struggle. I think power struggles are what makes it fun.” You bite your lip as you finish your statement as he faces you. It’s harder to see his face now that the only light escaping into the room is from the windows, but you’ve memorized his features. His eyes, his nose, his cheeks, and those lips.

He walks towards you and you stand still, not moving forward, but not back either. Accepting as he comes to you. He walks slowly, never breaking his eye contact with you. You immediately think of the way a wolf approaches, cautious, but dominant and your heart races. As he gets close to you, he runs his hand through your hair, and you move your head slightly, following his pull. Then you feel him cup the back of your head, pulling your head up gently. And then it happens, your lips meet. You close your eyes, letting yourself feel him over you. His other hand runs down your shoulder, your arm, to your hand, and grasps it tightly. Breaking the kiss, he looks at you and you at him. Then, he slowly walks toward you, into you, causing you to walk backwards until your legs feel the pressure of a table behind you.

He pulls your connected hands up to his face and kisses each finger while looking at you, you giggle a little. Maybe because he’s so cute when he has that innocent yet naughty face, or maybe because you’d never expect him there. Kissing your fingers. When he stops, he lets your hand fall. He then, out of nowhere, leans down a little, and grasps your waist and a gasp escapes and he lifts you up, onto the desk.

Now you are sitting on the desk, more eye level with him now. And the silence is broken…

“Shall I demonstrate how a power struggle occurs?”

“Yes…” you answer back, in almost a whisper.

“Well, it starts like this. Someone gets the upper hand on another.” He places his hand on your right thigh. “And, supposing there was no resistance, that someone pushes a little harder.” His hand slides farther up. “Until, it is met…with resistance.” It’s as high as it can go, and you squirm, you see his lips curl. “However, if…there is no resistance, then domination can occur.” He moves his hand away and pushes you backwards, and your back hits the table.

Slightly taken aback by his show of force, yet turned on by it at the same time, you let yourself lay there. Arms to the side, slightly outstretched, and your legs still hanging off the table. You want him to come to you, come at you.

“And when domination occurs….” he looms over you, placing his hands on either side of you. “fun things happen, revolutions, civil wars, even more….” He moves closer and you feel him against you.

“A revolution starts with an uprising….” You wrap your arms around him and straddle him slightly, kissing his cheek once and then talking to him, your breathe knowingly brushing him. “an uprising like this…right?”

“Yes, but most uprisings are put down quickly…” He grabs your arms from him and pins them, kissing your neck and arms, each time tickling your skin.

“What happens if, after the uprising, the people learn they want to be dominated?” You smirk up at him, and lick your lips once. It’s all you need.

“Well, then, they become one…one government…” With that he lets go of your hands and kisses you roughly, running his hands down your back and your arms come up to embrace him, pull him closer to you. This is just how you dreamed. As you two pull each other closer, entwine yourselves together you hear him whisper, “oh how i’ve wanted you….i’ve always dreamed of this…after every class together i think of ways to get to see you outside class…” You giggle to yourself as he says this.

Then his alarm goes off, and he grumbles, pulling away hesitantly. He checks his cell and sees the time. He offers to take you to your apartment, make sure you get home safe and you accept. On the way home he sneaks glances at you, tries to talk like a teacher, about the readings, but you know more. You know he wants you back. When he parks the car you smile at him, pull him close and whisper “i think i may need some more tutoring, professor.” you pull away, step out of the car and look back at him, and he clears his throat and looks at you with that same look and lets you know he think you need tutoring still too, and that he’ll try and make room for some ‘private lessons.’ As he drives away he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag, on it is written.

“I want you, I can be veryyy discreet.”

btw, when i saw prof k, i was like, professor kinky! hahaha. <3>

A midautumn night's dream (Fiction)

"It's been a crazy couple of months, huh?" His deep voice penetrates the comfortable silence.
It's a relatively warm October afternoon, and the two of you are sitting on the bench at the park, sipping at sodas and nibbling on snacks. His left arm rests behind you, on the back of the bench, while his other is holding a half-empty bottle of Coke.
You glance over at him, a small smile on your lips. "Yeah, but it's worth it, don't you think?"
He opens his mouth to say something, but then shuts it, and then grins. "I guess so."
Another silence ensues.
You break the silence this time. "So what are your plans for the rest of the day?"
"Well, I'm pretty much free the entire day. My mom was going to force me to do laundry, but somehow when I spoke your name, she immediately yelled at me to leave the house at that moment. It was weird."
You try to maintain a straight face, but fail. Laughing hysterically, you grab your stomach and fall off the bench, onto the grass. Immediately he stands up and kneels by you, touching your forehead and shoulder. "Hey, you okay? You're not hurt, right?"
As a reflex, you grab his hand on your head and say, "Of course not. It's just that I remembered something funny." You stop grinning stupidly and fall silent.
At the same time, you both realize how close you are and look into each other's eyes. His hand feels extremely warm and your heart races. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek, as his dark eyes bore into yours. Time seems to stop, but then a bee lands on his shirt and twitches a little. Looking back at you, he sticks out his tongue. "I'm not a macho guy all the time."
"Well, you always seem that way to me." Then, your eyes widening, quickly says, "I mean, you're scared of bees?"
You blush, and he immediately shakes his head a little as if he was clearing something out of his mind. He stands up, "Here, take my hand." You do, and get up. Brushing yourself off is a bit awkward, as he watches your every move. You move to reach for your soda, but accidentally knocks his Coke over.
He shakes his head jokingly and says, "I was so thirsty too! Guess I'll just drink some of yours." Grabbing your bottle of Sprite, he twists open the cap and drinks the rest of your soda. However, you're not mad at all. All you can see is the image of him drinking from the bottle that your mouth was on. Indirect kiss!!! Your heart is beating like crazy, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His mouth... your gaze is drawn to it... it's almost as if it was hypnotizing you.
"...llo?" You come back down to Earth, dizzy, wondering who called out to you. As your vision clears, you see him staring at you curiously, but also, with a strange light in his eyes. "Did that fall hurt your brain?" His hand reaches toward you, and even though you aren't cold, as his palm touches your cheek, it's as if you were freezing and he was the fireplace.
Warmth seeps into your skin, and you close your eyes just for a moment, leaning into his palm. But then you realize what was going on, and jerk your eyes open, only to see his face inches from yours. Panicking, you step back and step on the tuna sandwich that was half-eaten.
At first he looks surprised, then confused, and then hurt. "Hey, I-" His phone rings and he picks up. "Hello? Dad? Yeah, I'm at the park. No. No. God, what did mom tell you? NO! Yeah, I'll be home by midnight. No, dad. Yeah, I will man up. Geez."
He grins, but it's a hurt-lopsided one. "Sorry about that. My old man is crazy."
"It's all right. My mom is a bit like that too. But we love them like that."
He stares at you for a long moment. "...Yeah, we do, don't we?"
You tilt your head and look at him, and at that moment, a beautiful butterfly flutters in between both of you, and lands on the tree to your right. Both of your gazes are drawn to it, and you walk towards the tree, hoping to catch a closer look.
"It's beautiful!" You lean against the tree, smiling like a 5 year-old. Hearing no response, you turn. Just in time to see him put his two hands against the tree by your head, and although his body isn't touching yours, traps you between him and the tree.
You glance around, eyes wide, but no others are in the vicinity. You relax a bit, but you're so nervous you can hear the blood pumping in your ears.
"[B4evermine]..." His voice is almost inaudible, but as he looks into your face, the yearning on his face was blatantly there. "I know you probably can't or won't accept this... but I have to get it out of my system." As you try to get out of his arms, he grabs your shoulders, and then hugs you, your face buried in his chest, which smells faintly of Old Spice and apple pie. You breathe in and out, and the silence seems to go on forever. But you don't want this moment to stop. It feels so good, so warm, so right...
"I usually never do this, and have never done this before, but... but... I just can't hold it in anymore. I love you... baby, you're everything I want. And I don't know how to write poems or sing or any of that shit, but I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and ever will see, and I want you. Not in the religious sense, but I want you with me."
You stare up into his eyes and wonder "But I do want you..."
He continues, "And this is definitely a hit on our friendship. I really wondered if I should tell you, because our friendship might be ruined, but it's just that I can't see you without seeing the possibilities and if you want to break it off, I totally understand." As he turns away, you lift your hand and places your palm on his cheek, turning it towards you. His eyes are downcast, but you tilt his chin up.
"Hey... I thought you knew about my feelings for you too..."
He stares at you, and uses his hand to caress your hair. "No, I've always wondered if I was good enough for you at all..." Eyes meet. Your lips part. He leans down slightly, you lean forward just a bit. Just as your lips are about to meet...
Your cell phone rings. It's singing and vibrating on the bench, and you give him an apologetic look, and dodge under his arms to pick up your phone. Just as you're reaching for it, a hand grabs your arm and turns you around. You lift your head up in surprise and annoyance, but his hands holds the sides of your face gently as his mouth descends onto yours, first pecking your mouth, and then using his tongue, laving your lips. Your mouth parts just a bit, and his tongue reaches in, just once, and then like playing hide and seek, exits, and he continues to nip at your lips.

The ringing of your cellphone slowly fades away...

Is This How It's Supposed To Be?

Well, I guess age sneaks up on everyone, and I don’t mean this to sound melodramatic. I’m not talking about a midlife crisis or crow’s feet. I’m just talking about THE TWENTIES.

There’s all this hype about what your life should be like. A job, moving out of the house, graduating college, a grandiose love life and basically the foundation for the rest of your life, apart from your parents. But for me, the beginning of this whole decade of ages just seems like all the others, and I wonder, is this how it’s supposed to be? If I am to achieve all this in the next 10 years, I just don’t know what to say, the idea is overwhelming. Out of everything, the only thing that I have yet to even be close to achieving is a college degree.

And in the end, after all that, I worry, am I the only one that feels this way? Or is the misconception and overuse of the word “normal” misconstruing the way i should be viewing life? Either way, I hope I can work through my issues and find a guy and move out before i turn 30…

Why men are like heroin (part 1)

When I was in middle school (or was it elementary..? I was quite precocious), I would always wonder, "How do guys think? What do they think about?" And I got my answer from GoogleSearch: Sex. Their penis. Playing around with women. Cars. Food.
Of course, now that I'm in college and more mature I finally know the answer.
Sex.

That's it. Only one thing. One little thing that lingers in their brain, whether they're students, mechanics, librarians, American, Antarctican, Martian... you get my drift. I know how it feels reading those articles on men and what they like (trust me, I've probably read GoogleSearch till page 100) and then reflecting on these dirty, pervy, obnoxious, annoying creatures (of course, that's a pot-me-calling the kettle black).

Nevertheless, we think they're sexy and oh so delicious.... or just sweet and cute...
So what IS it about them?

Sight
Mhm hm hm. Those sinful blue eyes, that so, well-defined, chiseled face, those nice curved lips, such gorgeous tousled hair, pecs... and... a 200-pack?!?! *rips off clothes* Come take me now!

People and scientists say that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Well, if that is true, a way to a girl's heart is through her expensive, Louis Vutton bag and Ferragamo shoes.... that you bought for her.
Just kiddin'!

Although I prefer a man who can support me and my sophisticated taste (drifting, filet mignons, and horseback riding, anyone?) there are many... actually, most, girls not inherently golddiggers that love a man who isn't necessarily loaded (in the wallet, i mean... although having a big oomph in the loooove department gets bonus points!). Instead, they'd prefer good looks over buying them expensive stuff... which I guess, is materialistic in its own way, but still good.
But how exactly did "sexy" men come about?

God created Adam and Eve, but the Devil created Rafael, Vincent, Dominic, Francisco, Xypher, Julian, and Kyrian. Maybe a Bob.

Anyway, to tempt women out of their chastity (and the arms of boring society), they seduced and reproduced. Continuously. It's been a couple milleniums, and their kind is scattered across the universe. They're no longer so visible with their rakish good looks, cloaks, black boots, and an occasional vampire fang, but they're in all men (well, except those who descended from Adam). That twinkle in that skinny stick's eyes, that sexy smile on that jerk's lips, that twist of the wrist of that homeless guy who just stole your purse.... But, the ones descended from Adam are quite obvious: they're few, but they're the guys who just can't. get. anyone. maybe Adam had one ball instead of two. maybe he couldn't get to Eve fast enough before Rafael did. maybe his apple went sour (giggle).

Speaking of sour apples, next is our topic of "Taste"....

Focus? I don't think so

You know, I never realized how hard it was to sit at home, nibble on crackers, and just do work. Honestly, this entire day I promised myself "I will do X number of things" and in the end, I only got to B. Do I still feel stressed? Yes. Do I feel like a pig? Yes. Do I want my professor? Y-
Oh wait, that's a taboo, isn't it?

Everyone says "No, don't go there, it's bad."
Personally I think "bad" is having sex with a rhino or an endangered species of African purple-striped, horned monkey, but maybe it's "bad" because he's 40 and a professor?
I frankly can't comprehend why I can't "go there"... it's not like I'm setting a trap up for him or want a higher grade (honestly)...

There's just something about his demeanor, charisma, charm, humor... Ok, ok, so as other people have said, it's probably because I subconsciously see the sexiness in this power relation (and I can't say I'm not turned on by the fact that he's probably way skilled (in bed.... probably out), a lot more mature than college boys, has the sexiest brain ever, and oh yeah (this goes with the skilled part) he has a big, fucking nose). You know what that means!!!

No, he doesn't need large-sized Breathe-rights.

I'm sayin' that instead of a possible banana in his pocket, he's probs packin' an RPG (rocket-propelled grenade, people). Ironic, considering he's a government professor.
Come lecture me on the possibilities of nuclear conflicts between my thighs, prof.

Yep, it's late, and still no work done. Lots of fantasies though. Maybe instead of being the lawyer that I always hoped, I can start using my brain for writing erotica, only pennies on the dollar! Yeah, that'll make me tons of money. Dollar bills in my g-string, maybe, while bumping and grinding to some Lil Wayne songs.