"Heaton? Paul Heaton?" My assistant addressed the class of sixth-form boys.
"Here, Miss." The teenage boy nonchalantly raised his arm.
"When this class is finished Mrs. Horner wants to see you in her office. I've already informed Mr. Rotheray that you'll miss his lesson." She handed him a slip of paper and left the classroom.
"Don't worry about it" the young blonde woman said as the older man rolled off her naked body muttering.
"Fuck it, I'm sorry Sammi."
"Bob it doesn't matter, please don't beat yourself up. It's only a fuck."
They had been in bed for an hour or so. The fifty seven year old married man had made the twenty four year old single girl cum three times; once with his fingers as he undressed her standing behind her with his hands in her panties and twice with his mouth as he made awesome, well she though it was, oral love to her.
I stood in front of Mrs. Moffit's room door, hesitating.
I had asked her if I could stop by after the evening orientation, and find out what I'd missed at the group meeting. I was the only student from our team who had entered both a team and individual event and advanced to the national level competition in both. Now the time issues that arose from competing twice were starting to catch up with me.
The young man beside her was silent, lost in his own morose thoughts. Ginny concentrated on the icy highway in front of them, a hint of apprehension gripping her as they approached the Eisenhower Tunnel. Even though she had lived in the Rockies for sixteen years and made the drive from Vail to Denver weekly, this particular stretch of Interstate 70, approaching the Continental Divide, never failed to frighten her. Once more she wished she'd brought her husband's four-wheel drive, if only because it sat up higher and gave a better view.
Patterson Daniels was one of those quiet guys who managed to seem cool even if you didn't know him all that well. Decent grades. Pretty good jump shot. He wasn't going to be the loudest guy in the frat house, but he'd crack you up with a one-liner when you least expected it.
He helped me change a tire in the dorm parking lot once.
I focused on the backs of her legs and turned the little wheel of the binoculars with my thumb to sharpen the image. She was bending over one of her pots and pinching something on a plant to remove it. Her dress was riding higher and I glimpsed an extra three inches of white thigh. As she attempted to stand erect she put both hands behind her back and straightened with an effort.
I suppose you could say it all started just before I reached my 40th birthday. I knew that I still felt the same inside as I did in my early 20's, but now needed to prove it to myself, and the world!
I had recently called time on my marriage to a man who had constantly belittled me, refused to let me wear make-up, lose my baby weight, or wear fashionable clothes and worst of all had tried to cut me off from all my friends and family.
"Welcome to our home Michael. Please, please have a seat."
"Thank you Mrs. Stevens."
Michael sat on the beautiful suede sofa next to his girlfriend Jenny. He had been dating Jenny for exactly a month and she now insisted he meet her parents for the first time. Jenny Stevens could be considered an "old fashioned" gal. At 22 she was still a virgin and still very much living at home with her parents. She was a very pretty gal and quite friendly and intelligent.
"Asshole," Jeri said out loud as she drank a tall glass of water near the kitchen sink.
Jeri stared lazily at the backyard where the young neighbor was mowing and trimming the backyard. It had been a task he had completed every summer for them for several years. Jeri and her husband had paid him well for his work, which wasn't so good when he first started, but became better and better. Being a scorching day, he was out there with his shirt off. Jeri would watch if she was home when he worked, but never fathomed the idea of anything more.
Although Jo took Ann to the same area several more times following their encounter with the voyeur, the man never reappeared. At least, not physically. But he remained vivid in Ann's imagination. At home, Roger's attentions continued to be spasmodic and unsatisfying, and while meetings of the Friday Flower Club, supplemented by private sessions with Jo, delivered orgasms of varied intensity, Ann was growing conscious of something missing.