by Deena Bright
Briggs slides one finger inside me, as I put my big toe in his mouth.
“Now Briggs, you’re not allowed to suck my toe or move your finger at all—not even in the slightest bit,” I instruct. Briggs’ eyes widen as he nods his head.
He needs to feel how my body reacts to my orgasm to fully understand the effects of a climax. He stares into my eyes as I began to use light circular motions on myself. I stroke the bud around and around, looking into his eyes. They’re blazing with desire.
Briggs whimpers one word, “Janelle.” and I let go.
My orgasm shakes through my body. I can feel my muscles squeezing his finger, pulsating on it. I feel my toes curl on his tongue, forcing him to suck it deeper into his mouth. His eyes bulge and shade. He doesn’t move or say anything. He lets me experience the entire orgasm. Panting and exhausted, I look at him as he stares at me in awe.
Beginning to talk, I shush him, and say, “That was wonderful.”
He smiles, “You’re wonderful. You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.” He crawls closer to me. He kisses me. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me down on the floor, onto his lap. I can feel his hardened, strained penis through his jeans. He’s so sexy. I want to let him inside me right then, but I like these new roles way too much. I like teaching him control and patience. We kiss deeper and longer; his tongue dancing expertly around my mouth, pulling my tongue deeper into his. When he starts rubbing my breasts, I stop him yet again.
“Briggs, I think you need to get going,” I state, using my authoritative teacher voice. “I really enjoyed tonight’s lesson. I expect to see you again soon to practice what you learned tonight and to continue further.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
“You’re making me go home like this?” He points to his jeans, his straining penis is trying to Hulk out of his jeans.
“I think you were going to leave me in the same condition earlier, and I would’ve had to take matters into my own hands. I suggest you do the same.” Smiling, I throw his shirt at him and walk to the front door. Opening it, I add innocently, “Sweet dreams, darling.”
“Well played Janelle, I mean Miss Garrity.” Briggs puts his shirt on, slips his shoes on, and finally kisses my forehead.
“‘Miss Garrity,’ huh? I really like the sound of that now.” He kisses me hard on the mouth and neck, sucking my earlobe.
“I used to think that you were the best teacher ever, now I know it for sure. Damn. Next time.” He kisses me quickly again and walks out the door. I close the door and can’t believe the way I acted, cannot believe what just went down in my living room. Holy Whoredom! Char’s going to shit. She’s going to lose her tramp-tastic mind. Man, that was so damn hot. Next time…
Exhausted, I crawl into bed, replaying the day’s events over in my mind. How in fuck had Leo Cling grown up so quickly, and so damn well? I had never seen such a change in a guy before and what a change it was. Char was right again. He was not a kid. I wonder if he’s dating anyone, then quickly scold myself for wondering. Seriously Janelle, you were just masturbating in front of one of your students and now you’re thinking about another one? I’ve got to pull it together. I have to figure out my life, not sit around and hook up with former students, no matter how hot it is.
Speaking of hot, Briggs certainly surprised me tonight. The man was a god, perfect in every way, his words, his actions, his body, those eyes. He had the ball rolling. I was so turned on and just willing to let him take me, have me. Then, he just fumbled the ball like he didn’t even have a clue where the end zone was. And from what I remembered about Briggs Alexander, he never fumbled. I couldn’t fault him for it though, because he certainly made up for that dropped ball. He recovered it, cleared the end zone with ease, spiking the ball at victory. Score! I was satisfied, and he didn’t really even touch me. Oh the things that I can teach him! Briggs can be the perfect lover, my lover. My student.
KNOCKING AGAIN? AM I ever going to sleep past 9:00 a.m. this summer? Remembering the previous morning’s embarrassment, I grab my robe, tying it tightly around my waist. My head’s pounding like a jackhammer with a superiority complex, and my stomach’s grumbling and tumbling. When was the last time I ate? Shit, I’m starving.
Jocelyn’s the greatest sister on the planet. As she enters the pool house, I notice immediately that she’s bearing groceries, beverages, and an Egg McMuffin and hash brown from McDonald’s. Having an older sister is the answer to my prayers. I devour the sandwich and greasy fried potato, while she puts away all the groceries, organizing everything in the cupboards. McDonald’s is always the morning answer to a late night of sex and alcohol, well pseudo sex anyway.
“So kiddo, how’re you feeling?” At least she let me eat before bombarding me with questions, I think sarcastically. I knew that Jasper and Joz were going to be worried about me and about how I was going to handle Marcus and the divorce. Almost on cue, Jasper walks in.
“Gross. McDonald’s? Do you guys even know what’s in that crap?” He wrinkles his nose and starts to peel an orange, hopping up on the island.
“Really damn good crap,” I moan with my mouth full. “By the way, do you knock?… And get your ass off my counter.” Jasper grins, but doesn’t budge.
“Well someone has made herself at home. How are you doing?” I knew that I’d be better off just getting the inquisition over. I tell them all about packing, setting the ping pong table on fire, and about my spa day with Char, leaving out the anal toothbrush, Brazilian wax, and the tutoring of the African-American stud. I’ll tell Joz when we’re alone. Jasper’s ears aren’t ready for such knowledge, maybe never.
“Ha! That’s great! That fucker always cheated at pong anyway,” Jasper declares as he pops an orange slice into his mouth. “I talked to the company’s lawyer. Your best bet is a Disillusionment. It’s fairly quick and relatively painless.” I grimace at his words. Jasper catches my look. “Painless legal procedure, I know you’re in pain, Nelle.” I smile, grateful that he corrected himself for my benefit and ego. Actually, sadly enough, I am hurt, but I’m not hurting all that terribly bad. What does that mean? Why am I questioning it? I know what it means—probably always have. Marcus and I aren’t really meant to be.
“Janelle, this is the best thing for you.” Jocelyn states, as she gets the cleanser from under the cupboard. “I talked to Rick. He wants you to go through your house, make a list of everything you need or want, and he and his brother are going to go get everything for you.” She’s talking and grunting as she’s scrubbing the sink, the already clean sink. Rick has totally turned her into a nut-job clean-freak. “They’ll bring it here or put it in a storage unit. Rick doesn’t want you to have to go get it on your own.”
Feeling guilty, I say, “They don’t have to do all that for me.”
Ignoring me, she continues, “Marcus is such an ass, he’d probably fight you on everything. He wouldn’t say a word to Rick and Dave.” Jocelyn had done a lot of preparation for me. She always has my best interests at heart, so does Jasper. I am lucky—even if I am still pissed at them for keeping secrets about my marriage from me. Also, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I want to talk to my parents.
“When are mom and dad scheduled to call again?” I hated that we couldn’t reach them whenever we wanted. Who just leaves their kids? What is wrong with them? Jocelyn isn’t as pissed as she should be. Her kids are growing up without their grandparents. I guess I’m pissed enough for her.
Joz pulls up the calendar on her smart phone. “Not until the end of next week.” We usually all get together at Jocelyn’s for their monthly call. It’s easier for them that way. I wonder why we try to make things easier on them. They are the ones who left. They made things hard for us. Jasper and Jocelyn don’t see it that way though. I do. I miss them. I still need them, especially now.
The three of us sit around just talking, talking mainly about bullshit topics, nothing of substance. Just as I’m starting to feel “talked out” and ready to climb ba
ck into bed for a late morning, hangover nap, there’s a knock at the door. Joz runs to get it.
“Hey Nelle, Uhhh, I think it’s for you,” she announces, teasingly.
I walk to the door. My eyes widen. Briggs is standing on my porch, holding a comeback cup from Starbucks. All his confidence and assuredness is back, leaning on the frame of the door.
“Dude, why is Briggs Alexander at my house… I mean… your house?” Jasper asks, looking at Briggs, star struck, as he bounds up to the front door, shaking his hand and pounding his back. Everyone in town knows Briggs. He’s a hometown celebrity. Jasper leads Briggs in. Suddenly, silence and awkwardness fills the room.
“You know he was one of my students.” I have no idea what else to say and that response certainly doesn’t clear anything up.
Jocelyn approaches him, looking formal and business-like. “So Briggs, is it? What brings you here this morning?” Nice Jocelyn. Real subtle. “With Starbucks?” Damn Jocelyn, shut it. Jocelyn and Jasper are floored. I’m just hoping it doesn’t get any worse.
“I just thought the Teach deserved an apple.” He pulls a small apple from his pocket and pops it into the air. It hits his bicep, sending the apple through the air to me. I catch it with a giggle, quickly shutting my mouth and sucking in my lips. “Plus, I left my phone right there last night,” he explains as he walks over to get it. I hadn’t even noticed his phone. And yes, it did in fact get more awkward. Oh. My. God. What are they going to think?
Jocelyn and Jasper glance back and forth between us, then incredulously at each other. They both decide that they needed to get going, stumbling over each other to leave. Mortified isn’t strong enough to explain how I feel. They mumble their goodbyes and exit the pool house, leaving us alone.
“I left the phone here on purpose.” Briggs looks so proud of himself. “What can I say? I’m an overachiever, eager to learn more.” Alright, he’s hot, even though he isn’t as skilled in the bedroom as I had imagined, his sex appeal and willingness to learn are making up for it. Fuck it, what do I have to lose?
My job.
My reputation.
My dignity.
Eh, fuck it.
“I’m glad you’re here. I was just about to take a shower.” I love watching his eyes grow in surprise and excitement. “But a bath seems pretty good too. Interested?” His shirt’s off before I finish the sentence. “But hon, you need to learn some self-control.” I can’t believe how cliché I’m being, but I want this man naked and in my bathtub, more than a toddler wants a squeaky rubber duck. I guess we never get too old for bathtub toys.
He smiles, nods politely, and agrees, “Yes Ma’am, control.” He follows me back to the bathroom. I start the water, pouring in some oils and bubbles. It seems strange taking a morning bubble bath, but I obviously don’t care much about rules and etiquette anymore. Screw World Literature, Sex Ed was way more fulfilling and gratifying.
“Take off your shorts, keep your underwear on,” I order. He obeys, staring at me with those eyes the entire time. “Briggs, I need you to brush out my hair for me.” He looks at me quizzically, shrugs his shoulders, and takes the brush from my hands.
Briggs brushes my hair, slowly, softly while the water fills the tub. We both face the mirror, his body pressing up against my back. “Sometimes, the actions before sex can be just as exciting as the sex itself. Do you get that?” He burrows his face in my hair, smelling my hair, feeling how soft it’s becoming.
“I’m learning that now. I never brushed a chick’s hair before, Janelle.” I let myself enjoy the sensation of the brush’s strokes down my long, dark hair, relishing how nice it feels to be cherished, catered to. He looks so serious, so determined. Finally, his eyes lock with mine in the mirror. I moisten my lips and nod slightly to him. He must understand my cue, because he places the brush on the counter, and begins kissing my neck, and massaging my shoulders.
“Untie my robe Briggs.” He stops kissing me. Staring at me in the mirror, he wraps his arms around my waist and unties the belt of my robe. Our breathing becomes heavier and more erratic. “Don’t open it, just slip one hand in.”
Briggs clutches his one arm around me, slipping the other hand into my robe, caressing my breast, and kneading the flesh. We both stare into the mirror, watching each other, admiring each other. The contrast of our skin tones is so erotic, so hot. I raise my arm up around his neck, turning to kiss his neck. His hand brushes my nipple, tugging on the bud. I whimper; he chuckles, “I’m getting good at this.” I turn around, feigning anger and disappointment.
I shake my head at him. “Tsk Tsk Tsk, you were always good up to this point Briggs.” I kiss his neck, letting my tongue trail down to his chest until he groans with desire. “You know how to turn me on, turn any woman on; but, you have to be good throughout the entire game.” I say, winking at him. “This is just the first quarter baby.” That’s just like me, teaching him in a way he’d understand. Referring it to football. Always the teacher. I open my robe fully, exposing my body. I grab his arms and put them around me. I kiss him, showing him how much I want him, want him to please me, want him to know what makes me yearn for him.
I back out of his arms, and put my thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs. Damn, he should be modeling them. They fit him perfectly, snug in just the right spots, accentuating exactly what I want to see. I love the black boxers on his black skin, it’s so dark, so forbidden, so inviting. I tug the waistband away from his body, freeing the tip of his penis to ease his underwear down past his hips. His stomach is rippled with muscle after muscle after muscle. I want to lick each ridge of his abdomen, but reluctantly decide I won’t allow myself.
“I made a decision, young man,” I said as I flip his underwear back up into place. Startled, he looks at me. “I think I owe it to all those young women you slept with, but didn’t bother to please. Those poor girls had to go home wet, horny, and frustrated. That just isn’t fair.” He scowls at me, shaking his head in disbelief.
I smile. “So, I figure, it’s only fair that for a while, I’m the only one who gets off,” I declare, rubbing my hand up and down his groin, feeling his hard penis. “You’ll get your turn, when I think you’re ready. But that day isn’t today Briggs Alexander.” I state, shaking my head.
Continuing I add, “Today, you’re going to make me come, come with crazy pleasure and release, and you… well, you’re going to go home as frustrated as those poor girls you fucked and forgot.” I scold, while continuing to rub him through his shorts. “Do you agree to these terms?”
I fold my arms across my naked breasts, watching his reaction. When I see the agony on his face and the bulge and movement in his underwear, I slip into the hot, steamy bubble bath. “And if you’re getting in, leave the boxers on, I wouldn’t want anything distracting me from my goal.” I pick up a handful of bubbles and blow them at him.
Not wasting any time, Briggs gets in and faces me, not knowing really what to do with himself. I move closer to him, putting my legs up over his thighs, feeling his erection against me. He’s so hard, so large. Why am I denying myself of that gorgeous man and body?
I rub myself on him, feeling him, ensuring that his boxers are making the right amount of friction against me. I lean my head back; his mouth covers my breast, taking my nipple into his mouth. He moves his mouth from one breast, to the other, his other hand is on my ass, forcing me to move my hips harder on him. I pull his head from my chest, directing his lips to my mouth. I devour his mouth. I love the taste of him. He traces my lips with his tongue, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. Still rubbing myself on him, I hear him groan. I shift my weight away from him, standing in the tub. “Huh, seems like you might be enjoying his too much.” I sit on the corner of the tub, my legs primly crossed.
“Fuck Janelle,” he sighs. “I’ve never been this turned on and frustrated; you’re killing me. I feel like I’m 14 years old again.” He splashes water on his face and rubs his wet hands over his face and head. I laugh. He’s
so freaking sexy. “God, I want you,” he whines.
I uncross my legs. He stares transfixed at the area between my thighs. I place one foot up on the wall, the other on his chest. He takes my foot in his hand, massaging it thoroughly. He must’ve caught on that my feet are high erogenous zones for me. Thank God!
The pressure he places on my feet is sensual and erotic. His hands are wet, easily gliding over my feet. I free my foot from his embrace and hook my leg over his shoulder, dragging him closer to me. Briggs growls, knowing where I want him and what I want from him. He takes my leg off of his shoulder and places it on the edge of the tub. Both of my legs are spread on the ledges of the tub. He looks up at me, licks his lips and smiles hungrily. Slowly he moves in closer between my legs. He puts his hands on the insides of my thighs, bracing them against the tub, restraining me from movement. My voice catches; I gasp.
Suddenly, his tongue finds the center of my desire and his hands squeeze and massage the flesh of my thighs. “Easy, nice and slow,” I purr. Briggs tongues me slowly and penetrates me with his tongue. He circles around my hardened bud, never touching it directly, driving me crazy with desire and want. He glances up at me and winks. I groan. Cocky bastard. Tasting his way back up, he finally stops directly where I want him. Using light circular motions, he flicks his tongue around and over the center of my being, quickly, rhythmically. God, it’s good. I begin rocking my hips against his mouth, but his hands restrain my movement. He uses one finger, inserting it in, moving it in and out, fucking me with his fingers. His tongue continues to taste and torture me.
“Briggs, oh… oh… I’m there; I’m going to… oh God,” I cry, panting with desire.
His tongue darts out softly, as he whispers, “Oh Janelle,” before taking the bud into his mouth. I grab his head and grind my mound against his mouth, exploding in a powerful orgasm, my legs tensing and tightening under his hands. I pant and gasp my way down from euphoria. Finally, I smile, totally satiated. I notice he’s breathing heavily too. I look at him, skeptically and angrily, raising one eyebrow.
