Schooled

by Deena Bright

  He blew on my clit, then licked it again, before saying, “A promise is a promise and you’re not begging yet.” He put his mouth on me again, his tongue moving faster and harder. His tongue circled and moved lower, finding the opening, penetrating the opening. His tongue dipped further in at the same time as his finger found my clit again. He simultaneously rubbed my button as his tongue moved in and out of me. It was the most amazing sensation of pleasure, forbidden pleasure.

  “Don’t stop…Briggs… Oh God.” I held him in place, running my nails over his head and neck. He switched his hands, his tongue back on my clit, while two of his fingers delved deeper into me. “Yes, that’s it.” I moaned. I raised my hips off the counter; he removed his fingers from inside of me. Using both of his hands, he lifted me up, pulling me closer to his mouth, his hands holding my butt and hips. My legs went easily and smoothly over his shoulders. It was hot, so hot. Marcus had never….

  “Briiiiiiiiiggs,” I cried as my body quaked and spasmed; my body shook from the inside out. I wrapped my legs around his head, holding him in place until I laid motionless and limp, while he held me up. He placed me back on the counter and crawled up on top of it, kissing my body as he made his way to me. He kissed me deeply; I tasted myself on him again, so intimate. Panting, I held his head in my hands, staring at his face, “That’s two.” I kissed him again. “No more.”

  “Yes more, lots more,” he said kissing my neck and collarbone. He began grinding against me, still wearing his jeans. He was hard, so big, the material of his jeans, the seam of his pants were rubbing. I couldn’t bear it.

  “No…no…no…no. Wait…wait…wait,” I pleaded. “It’s too…ahh…sensitive…stop.” The sensitivity of more stimulation was unbearable. I couldn’t let him touch me there again. He lifted off of me, and moved to my side, trailing his fingers from my neck to my navel. He nuzzled my neck and ear.

  “Relax, ya just gotta let me tread lightly; we can get ya back there. I read about it,” he smirked proudly.

  I laughed, shaking my head at him. “When did you become so studious?” I joked, kissing his neck.

  “When the extra credit became so rewarding,” he said as his fingers found my vagina again.

  “Briggs…it’s too…” I said as his fingers slowly and lightly diddled my clit again. “Too…too..oh wow…gooood.” I purred. There was no way I could have three orgasms like this, never before had I even had two in a row.

  He was touching me, caressing me, then he looked directly at me and said, “You need to come again baby. Ya gotta, ya know how badly I want you.” He kissed me deeply, while his fingers were buried inside of me.

  “I just don’t know; I don’t think I can.” I whined, breathing hard, while moving my hips, gyrating them to his touch.

  “Yes you can; you want me, don’t you?” He questioned. I nodded, stared at him. “Do you? Tell me; tell me you want me. Tell me you want to fuck me.” He goaded me.

  “Yes Briggs, I want you,” I could hardly talk; my breathing was so short. He moved his fingers faster, harder. “I do, yes Briggs, I want to fuck you.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my entire body jerked, releasing the most powerful orgasm I’d ever experienced. My toes curled, legs stiffened, and my nails dug into his arms as I tried to get his hand away from my vagina.

  “Thank God,” he exclaimed as he leapt off the counter. His jeans were off in two seconds flat; I sat up, watching him. I reached for his boxers, but not before he grabbed his own waistband and pulled them down. His penis was straining, so hard, so big. I wanted him. I reached for him. “Nuh-uh, don’t touch. I’m afraid, I’ll…ya know…I’ve never waited this long before,” he admitted. I backed up, putting my hands up.

  Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I said, “Briggs, do you have, umm…” It was always such an awkward question, but yet so necessary.

  “Oh shit, yeah, right here,” he said, bending to reach for his jeans. The muscles in his back rippled; I touched his back. He let me rub his back, tickle his spine with my nail before standing back up. He threw a handful of condoms on the counter.

  Giggling, I said, “Big plans tonight?” He nodded, smiling. Carefully, I opened the condom for him, handing it to him. He slid it over his penis. What a shame to cover it up.

  He moved in closer, lifted my chin to force me to look up into his eyes; they were burning with desire, with want. My breath caught; he growled and kissed me hungrily, devouring me. My arms wrapped around his neck, my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me, urging him into me.

  He continued kissing my neck, rubbing my back, massaging me with his strong, powerful hands. I wanted him inside; he was still holding back. “Briggs.” I wanted him.

  He looked at me, stood back a bit, and shook his head. “Not yet, you still haven’t said it,” he explained as he leaned in and tongued my ear, breathing into my ear.

  At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. I looked at him, confused and totally turned on. Then, realizing what he wanted, what he meant, I said, “Please, there I said it! Please, Briggs, I’m begging you!” I screamed, surrendering. He chuckled. He pulled me closer, lifting me up. With one swift motion, he was deep inside of me. I wasn’t sure I could handle him, take him the whole way in. I was so wet, so incredibly wet and turned on; he slid right in, tightly and snugly, but all the way in, further than any man had ever been. He didn’t move; he waited until I adjusted to his size, his girth.

  Briggs began moving; I followed his lead. He rocked his hips against me; I met his every thrust. I wanted this. Wrapped around him, with him buried deep inside of me, nothing mattered. This was exactly where I wanted to be. My eyes were closed tightly; I opened them slowly. He was staring at me, staring at me with such awe and desire. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his. We stared at each other, moving rhythmically together. I had never had sex like this, so raw, so passionate.

  He moved faster, harder. I nodded at him, encouraging him to move even faster. He did. He lifted me off the counter, holding me, he turned us around, putting my back against the fridge. He pumped and pushed harder. Then, with one breathy word, “Janelle,” he came intensely, holding me and pumping into me. We stood like that while he settled down. Still holding me, not moving, still inside of me, he kissed me and said, “Do you think I could redo this assignment? I didn’t do so well.”

  I groaned as he slipped out of me, and breathing hard, I said, “I don’t know. It was okay; you do need a little more practice.” Still holding me, he carried me to the couch and laid me down. He leaned over, kissed me, and said that he’d be right back. As he walked back toward the bathroom, I watched how confidently and cockily he walked. Even naked, he was so self-assured. With that body, who wouldn’t be? He looked good enough to eat, from the front, from the back, from every damn angle I had ever seen him in. Delicious. Man, I was hungry. He wore me out.

  Lying there, I waited, waited for the guilt to flood over me. I waited. Nothing happened; I felt, well, happy. Satisfied, extremely satisfied. And tired. I grabbed the blanket from the top of the couch and snuggled up. Smiling happily, I must have fallen sleep, because the next thing I knew, he was lifting me, covered in the blanket off the couch. He took me back to the bedroom, laid me on the bed, and told me to hold on a second.

  Still naked, he left my room, rushing back into the living room. I got up, went in to the restroom to freshen up, and when I returned he had a whole spread of food on the bed waiting for me. He’d gotten the cheese tray, crackers, a bottle of wine, one glass, and a can of beer. “Wanna eat?” He asked.

  “You read my mind,” I said, climbing into the bed, sliding in next to him. We sat propped up against the headboard, drinking and eating cheese and crackers. We sat silently for a while, when he said, “There’s this new Mexican restaurant in Cleveland, wanna go Friday night; it’s outside of town. No one will see us.” He fed a cheese cube to me. “They say the margaritas are strong; I wanna get you crazy drunk and take advantage of you.”

 
Uh…what? I couldn’t go on a date with him. I hadn’t even filed for my disillusionment yet. I wasn’t about to start dating, a former student, especially. Sleep with him, get high levels of satisfaction from him? Absolutely. But a date? I didn’t think so.

  Stalling, I took a sip of wine, and finally said, “It’s not taking advantage of someone if she’s a willing participant.” I smiled, nudging against him. “Let’s skip the drive to Cleveland, skip the dinner, and stay here, get drunk on our own, and see where crazy drunkenness takes us.”

  Studying me, he said, “So you don’t want me to take you out? You just wanna stay here?”

  “Why go anywhere, when everything we have is right here?” I joked while I reached under the blanket and stroked his penis.

  “Janelle, why don’t ya wanna go out with me?” He looked serious, hurt even, which was not my intention at all.

  “It’s not that. I’m not…” I stammered. I didn’t know what to say. “I’m still married, haven’t filed for my disillusionment; I really shouldn’t be dating right now.”

  Briggs didn’t say anything for a while. “Alright, I get that. Makes sense. So, I’m just gonna be your little boy-toy secret then?” He smiled, pretty proud of himself.

  “Think you can handle that?” I asked innocently. He responded by rolling over on me and kissing me deeply.

  Breaking the kiss and looking at me with a serious gaze, “At this point, I would take whatever you’re giving.” He kissed me again, when his phone’s alarm went off. “Shit, yeah, can I turn on the TV, you have cable, right?” he asked, while searching for my remote.

  I handed him the remote, “Sure, but…uhhh…what’s up?”

  “ESPN is running a story on me. I taped it, but I kinda wanna see it too. That’s okay, right?” He looked at me hopefully. It was cute, like I needed to give him permission to watch an ESPN special about himself.

  “Of course Briggs, I wanna watch too,” I said, taking the remote from him and turning the television to ESPN. “It’s not every day that a girl gets to go to bed with a sports star,” I responded. Then realizing my absurdity, I said, “Well yeah, girls go to bed with celebrity athletes all the time. I’m a dime a dozen.”

  Hitting pause on the remote, he took my head in his hands, kissed my forward and said, “No way are you a dime a dozen, Janelle Garrity; you are one of a kind.” He kissed me deeply, taking my breath away. Damn.

  After I quickly cleaned up the food and got back in bed, Briggs unpaused the show. It was strange watching the same man who was in my bed, stroking my hair and back, being interviewed on TV right in front of me. The interview and story was fantastic; his story was tragic. But, he was a warrior, fighting his way back to stardom without needing to get knocked around by 300lb football players to do it. I was proud of him, awed by him. And to think, he was my student, my lover. Pride flooded me as I drifted off to sleep, with Briggs Alexander, ESPN golden-boy stroking my hair and rubbing my back.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next morning, we were awakened by Briggs’ phone going off. “Doesn’t the battery on that thing ever die?” I asked as I got up to go to the bathroom.

  “I charged it right before I came here last night,” He said, picking up his phone. “What up?” he said to the caller. “Aw fuck, that’s right, they’re in my car.” He held the phone and yelled through the door, “Janelle, what’s the address here?”

  Sticking my head out the door, “Umm, why?” I asked.

  “Vince, remember my buddy Vince? He needs to get his golf clubs out of the back of my car.” He looked at me strangely, explaining the situation.

  Shit. I had Vince in study hall, not class, but I wasn’t a fan. I didn’t want him to know about us, about what we’d been doing. If they were friends though, then he probably already knew.

  I gave him the address and jumped in to take a quick shower. I was just rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when I heard the door open. Smiling, I said, “What took you so long?”

  “Just giving you some time before I came in here and had my way with you,” he confessed. His mouth was minty fresh.

  “Did you use my toothbrush?” I questioned. I would freak the shit out if he did; there were just some things that I didn’t share.

  Lathering up his hands, he said, “You think I didn’t pay attention in school, ever, don’t you?” He began rubbing his soapy hands all over my chest, messaging the bubbles into my breasts as water rinsed them immediately off. “I’d never use your toothbrush; you take your own sheets and towels to hotels. You’d kill me if used your toothbrush; I used my finger.” He said kissing me deeply.

  For some reason, the fact that he remembered I was a “germaphobe” turned me on and made me want him even more. I lathered up my own hands, and with sudsy palms, I began stroking his penis. His penis was rock hard; I pumped him faster, cupping his testicles with my other hand, massaging the flesh. He groaned, squeezed my nipples slightly, and put his face back into the stream of water beating down on us. He looked incredible: turned on, hard, and wet. I stroked faster, and he grabbed my hand, pulling it away from his hard cock.

  “Not yet,” he said as he turned me toward the water, the water beating down on my breasts and face. He kissed my neck, my shoulders, and raised my arms around his neck. He slid his penis down my crack, between my legs. He wasn’t inside of me, but his length was long enough to rub my clit. I spread my legs for easier stimulation. This was new to me; his penis stroked against me over and over again. I leaned a bit forward, bracing myself against the wall, the sensation was incredible.

  “Put your legs a little closer together,” he said. As I did, he moaned and pumped between my legs faster.

  “Briggs, my God, this is so good,” I said, pushing back and forth with him. He pulled my leg up, exposing me, and opening me even more. His penis rubbed harder and hotter onto my clit as the water beat down on us. “Briggs, I’m gonna…”

  “I know, baby, come on, me too,” he panted in my ear. We moved faster, and together, simultaneously, we exploded in climax, coming hard. We collapsed against the wall, trying to catch our breath.

  Washing his hair and massaging his scalp, I said, “So…uhhh…where’d you learn that little trick?” Not only had I never had, whatever that was, crack sex, I’d never heard of it.

  Cracking up, he said, “That? Man, I’ve been doing that since seventh grade.” He turned to rinse his hair in the water.

  “What? What the Hell? Seventh grade? Who does that in seventh grade?” I shrieked.

  “It was tough convincing chicks to have sex in junior high, so this was the compromise. They could keep their “V” card, I could get off.” He explained to me.

  “And them? Did they get off, Briggs?” I scolded him.

  “Hell, back then, I didn’t even know a girl could get off,” he laughed. He was such a beautiful man, perfectly sculpted. “And anyway, that little ‘trick’ as you called it hasn’t worked for me in years. You just get me so fucking hot that anything sets me off.” He turned off the water, grabbed and towel and wrapped us both in it.

  Holding me in the towel, he said, “I didn’t know how fucking great it could be watching a woman come. You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.” His compliments floored me. This was a man who could have any woman he wanted and for some unknown reason, he was naked sharing a towel with me. It was perplexing to say the least.

  ******

  Briggs and I were sitting outside when Vince showed up. He looked as shady as he did when I had him study hall. I didn’t trust him.

  “Miss Garrity,” he nodded at me, apparently too good or too cocky to actually use a real greeting. “What up Briggs? You’re here early. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you spent the night here.” He laughed and put his hand in the air, expecting a high-five from Briggs. Ignoring his hand, Briggs got up and handed him his keys.

  “The clubs are in the back.” He walked with Vince to the car.

  Vince yelled over his should
er loud enough so I could hear, “And I do know better, cuz I stopped at your apartment last night dude, and you weren’t there.” He turned around, faced me, and made a crass humping gesture.

  Briggs grabbed him by the back of his shirt, shoved him toward the car, and said, “Just get the clubs and go, man. Fucking grow up.”

  After Vince got the golf clubs and left, Briggs came back toward me, and said, “I’m sorry; he really is a good guy, harmless really.”

  He sat down on the bottom step of the porch, leaning back against me. I rubbed his shoulders, kissed his ear, and said, “Not so much, he really is a fucking schmuck.” Briggs laughed, took hold of one my hands, and kissed the back of my hand.

  “Yeah maybe you’re right,” he agreed.

  Briggs and I piecemealed together something remotely resembling a brunch; we ate out by the pool. He begged to go skinny-dipping with me. I was not about to get naked in my brother’s pool in broad daylight at 12:00 noon. Reluctantly, he digressed and admitted that it probably wasn’t the best idea.

  After cleaning up our dishes and glasses, I told Briggs that I had things to do and errands to run. I had to get to the grocery store, or I was going to starve to death. He offered to tag along, but with Vince’s reaction to our newfound friendship, I was fairly certain that a platonic trip the local grocery store wasn’t a great idea either. Briggs wouldn’t leave without my vow that I’d see him later that night. I even promised that I would have an extra-special, sexy-surprise for him, better than the teacher’s bra and panty set. That did it. He left eagerly, actually counted the eight hours and forty minutes until he saw me again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Once I cleaned the pool house, went to the grocery story, and tried to write my Madonna musical for a while, I decided I needed a break. Lying on a raft in the middle of the pool reading a book, I was oblivious to the world around me. I was certain that I had died and gone to Heaven. It was the first time all summer that I was experiencing the euphoria and relaxation of summer vacation. Maybe four orgasms in twelve hours did that to a woman. I didn’t know, but I did know that I was peaceful and complacent.