birthday happenings
since nearly the very beginning of our relationship, i had told James that one of my dearest wishes was to be fucked on a desk.
for two years, i languished and lamented over my English teacher, dear Mr. P. M., and every time he and i happened to be the only ones in his classroom, i would wish with all my being that i would look away at something and the next instant be taken with a certain violence and perverse mania on his desk top. amongst graded essays, desk lamps, pencils, and the fact that he was a Catholic family man - all disregarded and strewn about in feral lust... alas.
while nothing possible could ever top that impossible and hopeless desire, James wanted to do something for me to approximate it.
while he is not my teacher, nor ever had been - in an office, in a building, on Broadway, two miles due south of my house, there happens to be a desk which James claims ownership to. he offered it to me.
so we arranged on my birthday - a special occasion - to go late at night to his office and end up on his desk.
he wore something professional, as what a teacher or professor would wear - and i wore stockings and high heels. and a skirt which he could reach up and under, and slide up my hips to fuck me.
in the dim light of the desk lamp he siezed me, felt me up, molested me, and threw me facedown onto the desk. grabbing my hips, my breasts, tangling his fingers in my hair - i begged him, do it mercilessly, don't give any consideration, harder, faster, please...
why do i want these things? why do i desire so for things that are so wrong? i ought to be learning from wise men, not lusting for them. dear god, why do i delight in the gray hair and fine lines and twisted sidelong glances? you're three times older than me, sir; why do i want you so? why do thoughts of you make me come?
with me holding fast to the corners and edges, the poor piece of office furniture heaved and banged and creaked, protesting its corruption and damnation. i begged him, "don't stop - i don't care how loud it is, i don't care if we're caught, just don't stop..."
dear sir, you and i are such deviants! if the public only knew you are not my uncle, not my teacher - what scandal it would be if they knew the meaning of all the looks you give me! what shock would be written on their faces, if they knew of all the terrible and delicious ways you have defiled me. and what envy would creep into them soon enough, if they knew a wiry, smirking old Hum and his willing, teasing, lascivious Lo walked among them!
thinking these thoughts, bent over with my breasts pressed against sundry papers, and begging him to keep his fierce and desperate pace, i came very hard upon upon that desk. i cried out in a completely undignified and unsophisticated fashion, but dear god, there was nothing in that moment that could have silenced me or set my vocal cords a-proper.
the office building is adjunct to an apartment, and if the residents were not awake before, they certainly were then.
amidst kissing, licking, rubbing, spanking, biting, and desperate grips and grabs to press ourselves harder and tighter together, there was little room for improvement - the only way it could have been better would have been if he actually was my teacher, and if the desperate desire had been accumulating all semester.
afterwards, James took me out for birthday cake at one of my favorite coffee-and-sweet shops in town. it was at least 10PM, and we sat in the cafe, amongst the various late-night coffee fiends and their Mac laptops. i attempted to look composed, but was fully aware that my hair was a mess and my stockings were slipping down. James watched me eat my cake with an expression of extreme pride and self-indulgence - if anyone had looked up from their damned Macbooks for just a second and glanced at his face, they would have read it immediately - "yeah, see this pretty little girl? it's her birthday, she's only nineteen, but i just fucked her senseless in my office."
after cake, we went back to my house. my roommate was awake, busily working on a self-reflection for English at her computer. being one of my best friends, she already knew in vague form what we had been up to. she, James, and I made polite conversation for a while, before he and i retired to my room to let her get back to work.
we laid there, happy and lazy, and talked for a while about whatever, i don't remember. at 11:30, kelly turned out her lights and went to bed. she knew generally about what went on prior to us coming home, but -
laying there with James, i began to yawn.
"you poor sleepy girl, i've kept you up past your bedtime."
he turned towards me and kissed my neck.
"and i ought to let you rest, and it would be very inconsiderate to keep you awake..."
he grabbed me and turned me over, and held me down, and put a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet -
"...but i need to fuck you some more."
and thrust into me.
we didn't stop until 2 in the morning, at which point i had come so many times in one night that i felt like i was drunk. i couldn't stand up straight. i was sore all over and worn out, and what punishment for a young lady who has a class in the morning!
as we laid there, finally finished, i mused, "you dirty old man."
he laughed and we fell asleep.
for two years, i languished and lamented over my English teacher, dear Mr. P. M., and every time he and i happened to be the only ones in his classroom, i would wish with all my being that i would look away at something and the next instant be taken with a certain violence and perverse mania on his desk top. amongst graded essays, desk lamps, pencils, and the fact that he was a Catholic family man - all disregarded and strewn about in feral lust... alas.
while nothing possible could ever top that impossible and hopeless desire, James wanted to do something for me to approximate it.
while he is not my teacher, nor ever had been - in an office, in a building, on Broadway, two miles due south of my house, there happens to be a desk which James claims ownership to. he offered it to me.
so we arranged on my birthday - a special occasion - to go late at night to his office and end up on his desk.
he wore something professional, as what a teacher or professor would wear - and i wore stockings and high heels. and a skirt which he could reach up and under, and slide up my hips to fuck me.
in the dim light of the desk lamp he siezed me, felt me up, molested me, and threw me facedown onto the desk. grabbing my hips, my breasts, tangling his fingers in my hair - i begged him, do it mercilessly, don't give any consideration, harder, faster, please...
why do i want these things? why do i desire so for things that are so wrong? i ought to be learning from wise men, not lusting for them. dear god, why do i delight in the gray hair and fine lines and twisted sidelong glances? you're three times older than me, sir; why do i want you so? why do thoughts of you make me come?
with me holding fast to the corners and edges, the poor piece of office furniture heaved and banged and creaked, protesting its corruption and damnation. i begged him, "don't stop - i don't care how loud it is, i don't care if we're caught, just don't stop..."
dear sir, you and i are such deviants! if the public only knew you are not my uncle, not my teacher - what scandal it would be if they knew the meaning of all the looks you give me! what shock would be written on their faces, if they knew of all the terrible and delicious ways you have defiled me. and what envy would creep into them soon enough, if they knew a wiry, smirking old Hum and his willing, teasing, lascivious Lo walked among them!
thinking these thoughts, bent over with my breasts pressed against sundry papers, and begging him to keep his fierce and desperate pace, i came very hard upon upon that desk. i cried out in a completely undignified and unsophisticated fashion, but dear god, there was nothing in that moment that could have silenced me or set my vocal cords a-proper.
the office building is adjunct to an apartment, and if the residents were not awake before, they certainly were then.
amidst kissing, licking, rubbing, spanking, biting, and desperate grips and grabs to press ourselves harder and tighter together, there was little room for improvement - the only way it could have been better would have been if he actually was my teacher, and if the desperate desire had been accumulating all semester.
afterwards, James took me out for birthday cake at one of my favorite coffee-and-sweet shops in town. it was at least 10PM, and we sat in the cafe, amongst the various late-night coffee fiends and their Mac laptops. i attempted to look composed, but was fully aware that my hair was a mess and my stockings were slipping down. James watched me eat my cake with an expression of extreme pride and self-indulgence - if anyone had looked up from their damned Macbooks for just a second and glanced at his face, they would have read it immediately - "yeah, see this pretty little girl? it's her birthday, she's only nineteen, but i just fucked her senseless in my office."
after cake, we went back to my house. my roommate was awake, busily working on a self-reflection for English at her computer. being one of my best friends, she already knew in vague form what we had been up to. she, James, and I made polite conversation for a while, before he and i retired to my room to let her get back to work.
we laid there, happy and lazy, and talked for a while about whatever, i don't remember. at 11:30, kelly turned out her lights and went to bed. she knew generally about what went on prior to us coming home, but -
laying there with James, i began to yawn.
"you poor sleepy girl, i've kept you up past your bedtime."
he turned towards me and kissed my neck.
"and i ought to let you rest, and it would be very inconsiderate to keep you awake..."
he grabbed me and turned me over, and held me down, and put a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet -
"...but i need to fuck you some more."
and thrust into me.
we didn't stop until 2 in the morning, at which point i had come so many times in one night that i felt like i was drunk. i couldn't stand up straight. i was sore all over and worn out, and what punishment for a young lady who has a class in the morning!
as we laid there, finally finished, i mused, "you dirty old man."
he laughed and we fell asleep.