Thinking of You

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I sat in the small classroom with the other twenty or so people who had filed in. It was only two weeks into the semester and we had already lost five. In another two weeks we would have even less. The room was too hot, as always. No one actually bothered regulating the heat in the buildings. It was still better than being outside at the end of January.

The teacher walked in, he was a few minutes late today which I found odd. Normally he walked in at 2:00 p.m. exactly. Mark set down his small briefcase and pulled out the yellow legal pad with his notes for the day. Not that there were many people who would be paying attention. English 101 wasn’t on the favorite list of many college students, I was one of the rare few who actually enjoyed the class even though I already knew everything that was being taught. English wasn’t my first language and I had been through all of this before. I tried not to be bitter about the fact that I had to sit through the same lessons again. There wasn’t even much of my accent remaining and most people couldn’t tell that I was Italian born, but my voice still had a musical lilt that was not American. It annoyed me that most of my classmates could barely speak their own language properly.

I knew Mark liked me right away, I’ve always prided myself with being intelligent and understanding. It was obviously something he valued. The first time he laid eyes on me, he lingered a few seconds too long. Every time he looked at me after I could tell that he didn’t want to look away. More often than not I would look up and catch him staring at me. More often than not I would smile, acknowledging that I had caught him; he would blush and look away.

I wondered if he knew that I liked the way he kayseri escort looked. I found his tousled strawberry blond hair, somewhat scruffy beard and slightly gap toothed smile attractive. I’ve always had a thing for tall, nerdy looking guys. He had more on a gentlemanly look about him, teacher was a good role for him -English Professor was perfect. What I loved the most was the intense look he always had in his eyes. This one was a writer, his mind always working just like mine was but in a different way. I knew he liked that I was an art student, it meant we could connect on a different level and really understand things. He had started smiling back when I caught him looking.

The next hour dragged on, he said ‘uhh’ and ‘um’ too much. Several students had passed out at their desks early on. I watched him make a note of them on his attendance sheet. I liked that he wasn’t going to bother waking them up, he had learned quickly that it was pointless to try. He gave out out next assignment, due the following week. He set the previous week’s on the table by his desk.

I waited for the others to file out of the room. I hated being stuck in the rush of people over eager to leave, I didn’t enjoy being tossed into walls simply because I was small and people never bothered watching where they were going.

“Ivy, do you have a minute?” Mark asked from his desk. He had a paper in his hand. “I wanted to talk about your last essay.”

I shrugged, less time in the crowded hallway was always welcome so I went over to his desk. He gestured for me to sit down in the chair next to him. He didn’t say anything for a minute or so, I waited for him to speak as I watched him trying to figure out what to say. I knew he wasn’t going to say anything negative. He always left good notes for me on my papers, I liked his hand writing.

“I liked the way you described that painting,” he continued finally. “but I guess you don’t really have a hard time describing what’s in your department, do you?” he added with a chuckle.

“I like Kandinsky,” I replied. “This one wasn’t one of his normal ones so I figured it would be good to write about.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he said almost dreamily.

Was he actually nervous talking to me, I wondered. I sat quietly waiting for him to say more. I wondered what it would feel like if he would just kiss me like he wanted to. I knew he hadn’t pulled me aside to talk about my paper and I had thrown him a bone as to why I had written it. My statement had been honest enough.

He brought himself back to reality, “Sorry, I’m probably holding you up.” He wasn’t, but I left anyway.

When I finally got home that evening, I replayed our brief conversation. I wasn’t the first one and probably wouldn’t be the last. Every time we talked I sat waiting for his mouth to cover mine like both of us wanted. The thought of his lips sent a shudder down my spine. Yes, I liked him a lot.

My hand slipped into my panties as I let my mind wander.

“Ivy, do you have a minute?” he said. “I want to talk about your paper.” He liked the way I had described the Kandinsky painting. Made a joke about it being easy for me since it was my department.

I closed the door and sat next to him. The room was empty but for us. We waited for the hallway to clear. “You don’t really want to talk about my paper,” I teased.

“No?” he replied sounding amused, “Then tell me, what do I want?” He smiled at me but didn’t show his teeth. He puckered his lips just a touch.

“But why? You know exactly what you want,” I said leaning forward, baiting him to come closer to me. He closed the gap between us. His lips were soft for a man’s, he looked scruffy but was actually well groomed. He might have been a modern version of Walt Whitman. He grabbed me by my shoulders and his left hand tangled itself into my hair. I closed my hands behind his neck, he lifted me onto his lap. I could feel him getting hard through his khaki pants and I grinded into him making him let out a little moan.

“I want you,” he whispered huskily.

My hips twitched as I was getting myself closer to an orgasm. My fingers rubbed my clit hard as I slipped farther away into my fantasy. I wanted to know what he looked like under that button down. I could tell by the way it fell over him that he had a fairly trim figure.

I wanted to tear that shirt off and touch his chest, which in my mind was mostly hairless. I wanted to pull his pants down and see what he looked like at full attention. I knew he sometimes got hard looking at me, he had a habit of looking my way and then immediately sitting down or standing behind his desk.

I wanted to be bent over that desk, stripped completely naked. He would enjoy that view, I knew he liked my ass.

He fucked me hard from behind, not hesitating in taking what he wanted. His big cock pounded into my dripping hole like it was the last thing it would ever do. His strong hands gripped my waist firmly, guiding me up and down his shaft.

I let myself cum hard for him, kicking my legs out and knocking over the empty glass I’d set on the floor next to my bed. I heaved a sigh of contentment, even though I was far from satisfied. I went to bed still wet, dreaming about what would happen next class.

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