Throughout working on my homework, my thoughts continue to drift to Mr. Ellis. It’s a shock to me how strongly my body reacted. I’ve had boyfriends, flings, and the occasional round of phone sex. But, none of them have ever made me feel what I felt today.
Flames begin to lick at my body the longer I think about him. The waves of arousal are so powerful that I shove all my homework to the side and quickly pull down my tights. Desire controls my palms as I glide two fingers inside me.
I pump and rub slow circles into my flesh before adding one more finger. I massage my clit, but no amount of my feverish touching is getting me where I need to be.
Spinning around onto my front, I crawl forward on my knees, my ass high in the air so I can continue fucking myself while I reach for the bolster pillow that fell between the mattress and nightstand.
This position allows me to go deeper, faster. With adrenalin and red-hot hunger, I thrust into myself with feral need. I want to feel my come spurting out of me while picturing Mr. Ellis’s firm, calloused hands kneading the tender flesh of my ass.
Thrusting the long pillow under my drenched pussy, I sweep it over my sensitive flesh, letting it tease me to the point of delirium.
With one hand on my tit, the other moves to hold me up. I spread my legs farther apart, rolling my body just enough to feed the frenzy inside me before pressing myself down on the rough fabric of the pillow.
The cushion is warm with my heat, and once its biting material scrapes over my sensitive center, I throw my head back and release a groan.
My skirt prevents me from going any faster. Ripping at the belt, I pop each button off, not caring that they fly across my empty room. My panties are quick to join them. And then my shirt, followed by my bra.
Fully naked, I grind against the pillow. Reaching my hands forward to grasp onto the metal headboard, I pretend it’s him I’m riding, his fat cock shoved so deep inside me I can taste him in my throat.
My moans echo throughout the room. With my mom downstairs and my father coming home any minute, I should be more cautious, but I can’t stop my body from working the pillow, rolling and grinding over the coarse material.
I’m so close. I can fucking feel it in my toes. Removing my hands from the board, I pinch my nipple and roll my clit between my fingers, shooting currents of electricity right to my core.
It doesn’t take long for the stars to appear behind my eyes and the release I so desperately need to spill out of me like a geyser.
My shouts of ecstasy vibrate the walls of my room. At this moment, I don’t care who hears me. This is the strongest orgasm I’ve ever given myself, and I ride it all until it’s soaking the cushion between my legs.
I don’t know how long I was playing with myself, but my body feels spent after my climax.
Collapsing onto the bed, naked and gleaming with sweat, I stare, mortified, at the ceiling.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”
Pushing my dampened hair away from my face, I feel my pulse pounding furiously against my temple and scold myself for fantasizing about my teacher.
Why the hell would I do that? I don’t even know him! I was in his class for barely an hour.
Yes, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, with perfect medium-length, honey-brown hair. He sweeps it back, styling it, so it’s out of his sculpted face. But throughout the class, he does what I wish I could, running his fingers through the strands, breaking the gel, allowing tendrils to fall over sapphire eyes.
The muscles in his arms would swell as he mapped out dates on the board. I watched the hardness of his biceps threaten the fabric of his button-down. With each movement, I waited for the seams to come apart and expose his strength. I was disappointed when that didn’t happen, as were the other girls, I’m sure.
They were feral, salivating over Ellis as they all fought for his attention. I’ve never seen so many hands in the air, hoping they’d get called on so he’d know they were smart. It was funny and sad. I vowed from an early age never to be one of the girls who fawn over a guy. Yet here I am, fucking myself with Ellis’s face on my mind.
With weighted limbs, I throw myself off the bed and beeline straight for the shower, the memory of my orgasm still playing in my mind.
Stumbling into the misty gray and white bathroom, I avoid my flushed complexion and switch on the shower. Then, without waiting for the water to heat up, I throw myself under the violent downpour and let the icy sting of the spray excite my nerves.
My body is too warm to be affected, and my mind is preoccupied with other sensations to notice the pain of thousands of needles puncturing my skin. I don’t know why my thoughts are swimming in filth, but I need to purify my brain before I head downstairs to eat dinner. The last thing I need is to be wiggling in need in front of my parents while they try to have an innocent family dinner.
Breathing through the residual arousal, I grab my loofah off the shower rack and scrub my body with lavender body wash, sighing happily when the exfoliating bubbles pop against my skin.
Next, I focus on my hair, running my fingers through the long obsidian strands, so it's easier to lather it with coconut shampoo and conditioner.
I watch the foam from my body fall down the drain, mesmerized by the swirling suds. I don’t know how long I stare, but the soap washed away long ago, and the water, which started off biting, is now scalding.
Shutting off the shower with a trembling hand, I reach through the frosted shower curtain and grab a lemony-scented towel off the bar. Its Egyptian cotton is heavenly against my wrinkled fingers, but it feels even better on my wet skin.
The steam disappeared, leaving condensation running over the vanity’s mirror, streaks of water trailing down the glass, distorting my reflection into a wavy, blurred mess. Habit has me wanting to wipe away the wetness, but I refrain, letting the droplets fall until they dry on their own.
