From my bedroom window it didn’t look as if it was going to snow when I woke up this morning. Lying in bed tucked under my warm blankets I spent at least four minutes attempting to motive myself to crawl out into the cold air and turn off the alarm clock that had been buzzing for the past hour or so- or at least I assume it was buzzing for the past hour, one can never be sure of these things when she tends to incorporate the sound of the alarm into some random erotic dream that inspires quite the orgasmic awakening.
Not unlike my typical morning, I awoke with my hand pressed firmly between my thighs and felt lukewarm drips of moisture falling onto my fingertips. I lie there for a minute, ignoring the devious sound of the buzzer, and closed my eyes to finish the fantasy which I had drifted to sleep contemplating during the night previous.
But this morning was indeed different from other mornings. Of course the pale pink paint on my wall gave off the same hue it had the day before and the IKEA furniture stood intact in its expected locations, but as I awoke and began to allow my thoughts to drift to musings of pleasing my professor and her boyfriend, I quickly remembered why I had been victim of a terrible case of insomnia the night before.
“Today is Valentine’s Day,” I remembered with a sudden chill of resentment. Although my anti-capitalist tendencies should denote my lack of care regarding this Hallmark holiday, I can’t help but- being the girl that I am- long to feel loved on a day set aside as a holiday to celebrate- not being alone. Removing my fingers from my pajama pants, I lifted up the curtain to study the Chicago weather from the safety of my dozens of blankets and pillows. After a week straight of the world being covered in grey, the sky was this amazing rich blue; one vibrant enough to even lure me from the comforts of my silken sheets and onto my tired feet.
One step at a time, my bare toes gently traced themselves across the freezing tile flooring, picking up speed as the surrounding temperature became further apparent, spreading goosebumps on my flesh and, as I noticed when I arrived in the bathroom and removed my shirt, causing my nipples to become quite hard.
Standing in front of the mirror, I allowed my fingertips to examine each nipple, first left- then right. My fingers must have been as cold as the tile floor, for when my hand graced my nipple, even slightly; I felt a pulsating chill rush through my body. I reached over to the shower faucet and turned it on, studying the thick steam rising from its heat tainting the pure and frigid air.
Turning again to the mirror, I allowed my fingers to gently pinch my right nipple, enjoying the sensation of arousal tickling from my chest down through my stomach and aggressively down to my cunt. Squeezing harder, this sensation increased, for a moment at a rate I was unprepared for which lead me to gasp for air.
By now the room was full of steam, and the shower was more than ready for my entrance. Besides, there was nothing better than a nice, long, hot shower to make one feel less alone, or at least remind one that there are certainly benefits to being alone- even on Valentines Day.
The scalding hot spray of water against my stunned back took only a few moments to adjust to as I turned my naked body around slowly to allow the water to press against my sides, my stomach, my chest, my thighs-
Almost too hot for me to bear, I was tempted to step out of the shower and lower the temperature, but something about the slight tinge of pain as each razor sharp bead of steaming wetness stung my flesh was oddly appealing. Wrapping my arms around my body, squeezing my back, I imagined what it would feel like to be held right then, to be held tightly- to be kissed and sucked and nibbled on- I tried to imagine how the pain of pleasure would compare with the stinging of the water against my flesh.
The remaining light bulb flickered four times, and then died entirely. Only a gentle glow of natural light lit the room now, plunging my knees and calves into almost complete darkness. The lack of lighting didn’t bother me at all- in fact, it aided to the mood of the morning- this Anti-Valentines Day, yet terribly aroused sort of mood.
And then I thought of her. It was only a matter of time before a thought of her would cross my mind and I could think of nothing else.
She walked into the room on the first day of class with a huge grin on her face, more as a cover of insecurity than a proclamation of confidence. I found this incredibly sexy. She was a last minute replacement professor for my Composition and Rhetoric course, looked not a day older than 25, although, as friends who had her in another class earlier in the week mused with a PhD she must be at least 27. But age certainly wasn’t what I had in mind when she first stepped foot into the classroom. Petite, with gentle curls of shoulder length dark brown hair and huge angelic hazel eyes, my own irises traced the curvature of her face bahis firmaları before sliding down to slip over each of the buttons of her navy blue tailored jacket, down to her tan a-line skirt and knee-high mahogany hued leather boots.
Needless to say, I had a hard time paying any attention in class, as whenever I thought I was deep in concentration I actually was off daydreaming about running the tips of my fingers ever so gently up her inner thigh, feeling her warmth, pushing her down onto the table and kissing her with a force that was not unwanted, but was unexpected in the sense that she would be shocked into the immediate wetness lubricating her cunt, her desire for what she had never thought possible to desire. Her guilt, her want, her longing to escape all the social constrictions, the insecurity, the feeling of inadequacy that had sculpted her into a kind, smiling, constrained person hiding her true self, made me want her even more.
And so I spent countless hours in class pondering what I would do to her if only a chance were to arise, although I knew for a fact that it never would. On the third day of class, she brought up her boyfriend amidst classroom discussion, and although my gaydar had not signaled that she was remotely queer, this quickly shattered most of my remaining hope. Still, I couldn’t help but imagine her, staying late in her office, working on a syllabus for a new class next quarter, happening to run into me in the halls of the nearly desolate school, starting a conversation- inviting me into her office- and then of course, one thing would lead to another.
All these thoughts- well, they seemed appropriate for this morning. Without a boyfriend or girlfriend to celebrate this day of love with, what else could I do? All of my friends were attached to someone, spending the day doing this or that, arguing over whose plans were more romantic than the others. In the end, the romance only leads to getting laid- but still, it seems that somehow on a day like today, even someone like me turns into a sappy romantic. A sappy, depressed romantic, that is.
I returned to my thoughts of my professor, as thinking about how all my friends were out for early morning strolls with their significant others was making me significantly nauseous. The other day in class she informed us of how she was going to see her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, but only at night, because he had to go out of town for the weekend on business.
Business. Wonder what kind of business he’s in. Probably some prince charming look-alike. I wouldn’t mind joining in- I mean- if he was around, I think that would be kind of hot…
I hadn’t really thought about it before, but suddenly I became quite aroused by the idea of meeting her boyfriend and fucking them both. Without a physical image of my professor’s boyfriend in my head, it was quite hard to get a believable fantasy situation into my mind. But of course, as I am the queen of make-believe when it comes to these sorts of things, it didn’t take long before I could picture myself spending Valentines Day wrapped in the arms of the loving couple.
With liquid soap in my hands, I brought them down to my toes and grasped my leg, sliding up to my thigh, allowing my hand to scrub my pussy for a few seconds before reaching down the other leg and giving it an equally thorough scrubbing.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Standing in the darkness, I quickly turned off the shower in fear that my roommates had decided to bring a party of people over for some sort of impromptu Valentine’s Day brunch. But she would have used her key, and a few seconds later there was a knock again.
A familiar voice.
“Hello? Dave? Hello?”
No. It couldn’t be.
Then, silence. I threw my pajamas back on my sopping wet body and raced towards the door, pausing a moment before flinging it open.
A bare back of smooth pink flesh and sharply defined shoulders greeted me.
She turned around.
“Laurie,” she exclaimed.
Not Dave. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but she just smiled. She had the way of making anyone feel at ease in any situation, regardless of how awkward.
She smiled and said, “I guess Dave isn’t staying with you.”
“No,” I said timidly, feeling the cold air force drips of water from my hair onto the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in the most adorable apologetic manner, “he gave me this address—his friend lives in this building- that is- my boyfriend’s friend lives in this building, he was going to be staying here tonight because they’re doing some renovations on his apartment and—to make a long story short, he wasn’t sure of the address and he gave me two to try- this one isn’t it apparently. I’m sorry for interrupting you- I hope I didn’t wake you up…”
“No, you didn’t…”
“Oh, of course I didn’t wake you up, you’re, well you’re soaking wet. You wouldn’t have been sleeping like that. Then. I’m sorry for…”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll kaçak iddaa just be going now,” she said with a hint of embarrassment as she turned towards the spiral staircase and began to make her way up towards the second floor. I stood, dripping wet, noticing that my nipples were as visible as a drunken spring breakers’ would be at a wet t-shirt contest, and I slowly closed the door in order to hide my amusement and shock.
Instead of returning to my shower, I stood quietly and listened. Upstairs there was a similar knocking, three minutes of it to be exact, but from the sounds of it, no one was coming to the door. Then, there were footsteps. They got louder and louder.
Another knock on my door.
I wait, pace to the backdoor and return to grasp the handle in my hand and carefully draw it into its open position.
“Laurie- I’m so sorry, again, it’s just- I know this is a lot to ask, but do you have a phone I could use? I’ve been meaning to get a new cell after my last contract ran out, but just haven’t had the time- you know how it is—”
“Sure, don’t worry about it. Come in.”
Come in? I couldn’t believe that any of this was happening. I was half convinced that I was still asleep, stuck in some sort of brilliantly clear realistic dream. I listened carefully for the buzz of the alarm to have snuck its way into the soundtrack of what was occurring, but the only beeping noise I heard was the dial tone from the phone that I immediately handed her after asking if she wanted to sit down in the living room.
Then I figured this had to be real- after all, if it were a dream I’d be fucking her by now- there would be no trip upstairs to see if her boyfriend was in the apartment he said he’d be in, there would be no additional plotline other than the specifics regarding an incredibly passionate fuck. This, although similar to a fantasy, was not about a fuck. It was about her boyfriend happening to be staying with a friend who lives in my apartment building. She would figure out where he was as soon as she got in touch with him and that would be that.
She hung up the phone.
“I got a message from Dave- he says he’s running a bit late, it’s snowing downstate pretty badly and his friend and him stopped off at a motel to get some rest for a few hours. But they should still be here pretty soon. Damn, I should have checked my messages before I left my house. Especially on a morning like this. Well, I guess I’ll go wait out in the hallway until he gets home…”
“Oh, you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. I don’t really have much- just some books- a 13 inch TV- no cable. Nothing too interesting. But don’t stand in the hall- you don’t even know when he’s going to show up.”
“Thanks Laurie, you’re really sweet, you know that?”
I blushed. I wonder if she noticed.
She walked over to my bookshelf and began to study the collection of texts. “A philosophy fan, I see. Kant. Hegel. Nietzsche. Impressive.”
Actually, I bought a ton of philosophy books at a garage sale last year, but never got around to reading them…, “Uh, huh.”
“That’s great. I was a philosophy minor in college. Did I tell you guys that? English major, philosophy minor. Then grad school. How time flies.”
“Well, I don’t want to get in the way of whatever you were doing…”
“No, really, it’s fine. I was just- showering. I have nothing special to do today.”
“I remember when I had no valentine on V-Day. It’s kind of lonely.”
“You can say that again.”
I got up and walked into the kitchen, because I couldn’t bare sitting in the same room as her for a moment longer, I wanted her so badly and due to having stimulated myself only seconds before her arrival I was more than ready to fuck her. She looked so incredible, sitting there, done up in her valentines day dress that hugged each of her curves and cut just above the knee. I wanted to take her right then and there and…
But I couldn’t.
“Would you like a drink,” I asked.
“What do you have?”
“Kaluha. Rum. Wine. Vodka.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean—do you have any juice?”
“On second thought, it’s valentines day, and both of us are lacking valentines for one reason or another. How about we have a drink? You are over 21 aren’t you?”
“Alright, I’ll take a screwdriver then. If it’s not a problem of course.”
“One screwdriver coming up.”
I must admit I went a little heavy on the Vodka. Hey, it’s not like I was going to have another chance like this again. I mean, I’m not much of a believer in fate- but sometimes these things that happen- for a reason or by utter coincidence- can’t be hurt if nudged along- if they’re meant to be and all…
“Thank you,” she said with a smile as she gazed up directly into my eyes. Her hand touched mine as it took hold of the cup that I was clutching in my grasp, and I swear at the moment we touched she, perhaps for the first time, felt kaçak bahis a bit of what I was feeling—but she, of course, smiled brightly and shook it off, probably convincing herself that she was imagining things- or that even thinking such a thing was wrong. She was from Kansas after all.
I returned to the kitchen and poured myself a screwdriver, less heavy on the vodka and then returned to sit in the chair across the living room from where she was sitting with her legs so elegantly crossed as to protect her warm mound from drawing attention, but even the tightest of leg crossing could not keep my thoughts away from what was hidden underneath-
Maybe she noticed. Maybe she didn’t.
Ten minutes later, we were on our second screwdrivers. I was slightly buzzed. She was definitely further gone than I was. But only slightly. I walked towards her to take her empty cup away and place it in the kitchen, but when I came close enough to her she reached out and grabbed my hand, drunkenly requesting that I sit next to her on the couch with a delicate tug.
She looked at me, but didn’t say anything.
I looked back at her. We must have stared into each others eyes for six minutes. I couldn’t take it anymore. I allowed my hand to first fall onto her knee, in a way that could be read as accidental. When she didn’t back away, I leaned slowly towards her, to see if she noticed my hand was slowly but surely applying pressure to her knee, and began to work its way up her inner thigh.
She had stopped smiling that charming smile. She didn’t seem to need it anymore.
I could feel her body and mind fighting with itself, refusing to give in to want, but also refusing to get up and leave. Meanwhile, I had never been this aroused in my entire life. Her soft lips, round, voluptuous breasts and strong, graceful belly underneath a grey cashmere dress drew me into her eyes, and there I was lost.
Yet luckily enough, my hand had a mind of its own. I leaned in, the palm of my hand still moving up her thigh. Everything else still and calm. Like the air before a storm, she sat there, I could feel her desire burning, her body quaking, her lips trembling, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and longing.
And then, I found her. I found her with my hands following a magnetic force, gently spreading apart her legs as they slid up into her warmth.
I cupped her cunt in my hand, and could wait no more. My body pressed against hers, my hand now reaching into her panties, my lips melting into hers. Her silence is broken by a soft moan, and I know she’s mine. For this morning, for this moment, I have her at my mercy. She wants nothing more than to be pleased by me, to experience this new, exciting feeling- to- let go, and allow her self to float in rhythmic bliss against my body, now warm and nearly dry.
We somehow fall to the floor, it isn’t a long way down, and the cold tiles are suddenly refreshing. As carefully as possible, I remove her dress from her body. A zipper down the side is pulled with my left hand as I massage her breast with my right. Still, we are staring into each others eyes. It’s impossible to look away.
Using both hands, I reach under her dress and pull it above her head, feeling the warmth of her bare flesh against my skin. While I still have my tank top and pajama pants on, there she stands, nearly naked, with only a pair of beige panties on that are drenched between her legs. Her breasts dangle softly, I reach to them with my free hand and draw my mouth to her left nipple, using my tongue to outline her mauve circles and then closing in on the point, sucking vigorously and inducing tiny whimpers of pleasure caught in between gasps for air.
Her hands grasped my shoulders, the rest of her remained still, frozen- afraid to move- afraid to admit that she wanted this. Afraid to admit she was standing here, drunk, or at least buzzed, with one of her students- one of her female students- and yet- I felt her arms lift me to her lips. This time, she kissed me back. She kissed me back with the force of all her pent up yearnings, holding the back of my head with her hand and pulling my torso in close with the other.
Suddenly, the tables were turned. This wasn’t at all like I had imagined in my countless fantasies. Well, it had begun like any of them—but now, much to my surprise, she has taken charge. But I don’t want to give up control. I don’t want her to have it that easy. Having control is the easy part. Having to let go- that’s what’s hard.
We kiss with such force, if anyone had seen it they’d define it violent, and yet our heads moved together as one, our tongues made love to each other in swirls and tickles and twirls, and our arms clung to each other so tightly it felt as though we might either merge together or tear the other one apart.
She threw me against the wall, pulled my shirt up over my head and kept it on my arms to keep them stuck together in the air above my head. She kissed me again, and began to repeat what I had done to her moments earlier- she lowered her head to my breasts, gently sucking each nipple, using her arms to squeeze my ass, my thighs, and hesitantly running quickly over my dripping pussy.