It's always the forbidden that we yearn for; that mirage, that something, just out of our reach. If we do reach for it, it changes into something else, disappears altogether or turns out to be so hot that it burns, destroys.
I am the forbidden. That only makes you want me more.
I know you're watching me. Your intelligent eyes, beneath those thick, grey eyebrows, are so sharp and bright like your mind. Not watching me, no; trying not to watch, as I walk past you for the lecture. You think I don't know the effect this short, tight skirt has on you? My legs are a shapely silhouette in black, my boots just reaching beneath my knee. I flick my long, blonde plait over my shoulder. Glance up at you. You cough, as if you're clearing your throat but I know you're just trying to hide your feelings, your distraction. Your serious mind is wandering, taking a walk away from sociology, politics and philosophy. I know what you're thinking about.
I sit quite near the front and I have my folder balanced on my crossed knee; my pen resting between my lips. I'm watching you now. You must be older than my father. You have your glasses now balanced on the end of your nose and you're reading quotes from a text book. Your beard is bushy and greying. You're wearing a blue jersey over a shirt and suit trousers. I am watching you as you give the lecture. You are so serious, so in control, I wonder what it would be like to see you out of control, with that combed hair messed up, screaming that you want to fuck, with your cock hard, screaming that you want to take me. I imagine what you'd be like thrusting that cock into me, losing control, giving into your most basic animal yearnings.
The lecture is soon over and sitting here, fantasising about you I feel wet, excited because it's forbidden…..
You know, I've been thinking about you a lot as I'm stuck here in my room, trying to write my essay. I've always been good. Studied hard, did everything that I was supposed to do. But I'm bored of that. I thought things would change once I'd moved from a small town to University. I've changed. I'm much more daring in the way that I dress now but life hasn't changed that much. I want something different. I want you: my respected lecturer, my intelligent master. I want you. I lay back on my bed thinking about you. I imagine you going down on me….your beard tickling between my thighs. Feeling your tongue lick where my finger is now. Then I come as I imagine my juice dripping off your beard....it's so wrong…..
Your office is quiet, a wooden desk, plants, books and folders on every shelf. You're sitting behind your desk and look up only briefly, vaguely wave your pen at the chair on the opposite side of the desk to tell me where to sit. You continue to tap on your keyboard for a minute then push the screen of the laptop over the keys. You smile professionally then make intellectual comments about my essay, constructive criticisms. I'm not even listening. Boredom has formed a devil in my mind. I take off my denim jacket. I smile because I'm deliberately sticking out my breasts, my elbows resting on the back of the chair. I'm smiling because I know I'm teasing you.
As you're talking I know I want to do something crazy. After all, we're here alone. What can you say? So I do something crazy. I start to stroke one of my nipples through the thin material of my t-shirt. You carry on talking then realise what I'm doing is not an innocent itch that I have to scratch. I boldly stare into your piercing blue eyes. They are alert, questioning. You just sit, calmly, watching me, one elbow on the desk, your chin resting on your hand, just watching, as if you are gazing at a beautiful sculpture and contemplating the meaning. I'm light-headed. It's giving me such a thrill and I'm wondering what you're going to do next.
You stand up and tell me to leave. What?
Then as I look down I can see that you are erect. You are suddenly angry with me yet erect. I look at you. My eyes are pleading with you. You think I'm doing this because I want better grades. It's not that, no. I want you. Just you and me in the lecture hall. You standing before me, reading out your lecture calmly yet with your cock hard like it is now. I'm sitting in the lecture hall watching you. Then I get up, stroke you, get down on my knees, take you into my mouth. I want to fuck you in the lecture hall….. You tell me it's time to leave.
The next lecture, I sit at the front. I'm right in front. You see me. Oh, yes. You even look pleased to see me. You can't hide that. A sudden smile, a joviality. I'm wearing a low-necked red top and jeans. I've taken my long hair out of the plait and it cascades over my shoulders in waves. Then you focus on your lecture. Yet you seem more animated than usual and I see you look at me once or twice. When the lecture is over the other students stand up and start to leave, there is the usual low hub of conversation. I stand up too but as I turn to go you quietly call my name. You ask me to visit you in your office in five minutes. There is a matter that you wish to discuss.
I feel a little bit scared. I was crazy and you were right to tell me to leave. After ten minutes I knock on your door. You open the door and close it behind me as I enter. Then you turn the key. You are looking at me in that same way, something like awe, something questioning. I don't really know what's going to happen so I walk over to your desk and sit down. You walk up behind me and I feel you stroking my hair. Your fingers combing gently though my hair. Then stroking my neck, petting me as you would pet a bird in a cage. I'm caged. I'm yours.
Still sitting in the chair, I take off my red top, pull it up over my head. Crazy again, I fling it across the room and start laughing. You cover my mouth gently with your hand. We must be quiet. Quiet and fast. I pull down my jeans. I don't even take them off. They are trapping me, around my ankles. I'm standing, bending forward over the desk. You are behind, pressing up against me. Stroking me gently with your fingers, kissing my back, I feel your coarse beard brush against my skin. Your kisses get gradually more forceful, you bite my neck, losing control, breathing heavily. You are moaning quietly, stroking my wetness. Taking out your cock you force it into me with a grunt from behind. I want to cry out, yet we must be quiet. You are still fully dressed, you have your tweed trousers on, your pressed white shirt collars over your jersey, yet flies undone, taking me hard and fast and quiet. Hard and fast. Your hands on my hips, you push me down onto your cock and soon you are coming, trying not to let the sound be released, it's just a long-drawn out sound from your throat.
When we are finished you are sedate. Your glasses are slightly askew. Your shirt un-tucked. And you tell me it's time to leave…..