I always loved school and had fond memories of many of my classes, but one in particular stood out in my mind. That was English Literature. During the last two years of High School a very handsome, broad shouldered young man with thick dark hair, flashing brown eyes and a dark mustache came to teach at our school.
He was a gentle man with a voice like honey that seemed to melt over me on those warm languid days when I sat by the classroom window and listened to him recite Keats, Browning, Yeats and Frost to name but a few. He took us impressionable teenagers from this classroom in Ireland to ancient Rome, to Renaissance Italy to the Isles of Scotland and the wilds of Africa during those last two years of school.
Oh how I looked forward to those lessons. He led us to the mountain tops and valleys of emotion, from the piqued sadness of Auden to the breathless joyful words of Brooke.
I remember standing next to him on winter mornings before we went into class and breathing in his unique scent, a mixture of aftershave and damp tweed from his sports jacket.
He had a keen sense of humour and a devilish grin and it seemed that every girl in the school had a crush on him, not to mention the female members of the staff. He was, however, always untouchable. Always the perfect gentleman, conducting himself in a most professional way, friendly, approachable but yet aloof.
After I left school I went to university in Minnesota and then to work in England. Ten years later I returned home, my father was ill and family duties called.
I had been home only a few days when I was invited to a school reunion. While I would normally run a mile from this type of small town event I found myself accepting the invitation out of an inability to think up a believable excuse at short notice.
The evening came and I found myself placed at a table at the back of the room opposite an attractive man who looked vaguely familiar. We exchanged Christian names and chatted comfortably between speeches. I kept thinking how sexy he was and how much I was attracted to him. I could see his nipples through the fine white fabric of his shirt and had the almost uncontrollable desire to trace their outline with the tip of my finger and lightly flick them with my long nails. My own nipples began to ache.
My delectable dinner companion then told me that his surname was McCormick. I was jolted back to reality to realize that this was my Mr. McCormick! The first man to stir the flames of my adolescent love. But he was only a few years older than me with a face and body that should ignite the flames of passion in any healthy woman.
Now as I sat across from him I could feel the stirring of lust. I was sure I was very very wet under my conservative green dress. I spent the rest of the speeches imagining what it would me like to have our two bodies intertwined in the darkness and to hear his deep mellow voice float across the darkness to me. He kept making lingering eye contact as though reading my thoughts.
After the main course we decided we could listen to no more and went outside for a breath of fresh air. It began to rain and we walked around to the back of the hall hoping to find shelter. The door to the small storeroom was open. It was full of gym equipment and brooms and it still had that musty smell I remembered so well. Through the double doors of the gymnasium we could hear the speeches droning on.
He asked if I was married and I said I had been but was no more. He said he was sure I wasn't going without an ample supply of "pleasuring". I agreed to which he replied "As one philosopher once said the trouble is women always get the best end of the stick". I looked down at my feet and giggled like a teenager but I was pleased he found me attractive.
He said he was single and liked it that way but found the ladies in this small town seemed to lack a healthy sexual appetite and his desires were extremely healthy. I sympathized and said with a laugh it was a shame for him I was only visiting for a few weeks.
His response took me by surprise. "Don't let that stop you. I've been admiring you all evening. You're a very fuckable woman and I think you find me attractive too." My surprise must have been obvious as he added with a grin "I love to see a grown woman blush! Let's dash back before there's another downpour".
I don't know whether it was the casual way he accepted my unspoken refusal or the fact that I still found this man incredibly desirable but I didn't want this 'reunion' to end so quickly. I caught his jacket sleeve to stop him leaving and gently pulled him towards me. We kissed slowly our tongues exploring and savoring this new territory we had found. I slid his jacket off his broad shoulders and he undid his tie with one hand while pulling me into his hard chest with the other. I was breathless.
There in the half light with the voices from the hall barely audible now I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my hands over his chest. My fingers moved through the matte of hair on his chest to each of his nipples which were now hard little mounds. I rolled them between my thumbs and index fingers and he gave a deep sigh. Enjoying the reaction I was getting I squeezed his nipples harder and then bent and began to nibble them with my teeth I could feel him push his chest towards my mouth. I slowly lowered my self to my knees and undid his belt. I undid his fly and with my other hand helped his trousers slide down his well shaped legs. I started to pull his underpants down but their journey was halted by his enormous erection. I took the band of his underpants in my teeth and helped it over his bulging groin with a tug, while my arms wrapped around his body and each of my wide-spread hands slid down over the contour of his firm cool butt. I curled my hands around to the inside of his legs and ever so lightly stroked them up towards his anus. The light coming through the storeroom window glistened on the droplets of pre-cum which were dripping down the tip of his cock. I slowly licked it with my tongue and pulled my head back to have another look at his proud and impressive member. Even in this light I could see how engorged and thick it was. I couldn't resist the temptation any longer. I licked his long shaft with long slow strokes of my tongue, I licked and sucked his balls nuzzling my face in his pubic hair and inhaling his special scent. I gently raked my teeth over the head of his cock and he moaned with pleasure. I nibbled around the swollen head of his cock with my teeth and I could feel his butt contract as he took a long deep intake of air. I did all this while looking up into his half closed eyes or at his magnificent organ.
He thrust his pelvis towards my face and put his hands on the back of my head and pulled my mouth onto his stiff prick. I took him fully into my mouth, the tip of his penis was touching the back of my throat and yet I still wanted more. I sucked his cock against the roof of my mouth as though I was milking him while still stroking the underside with my tongue. He exploded down my throat and his cum ran out from both sides of my mouth. He pulled me to my feet and kissed me passionately blending the saliva from his tongue with his cum. I was really turned on and his cock was clearly ready to explore my other hot wet set of lips.
We could hear the sounds of people leaving and doors being locked. Very reluctantly we decided that we should pull ourselves away from our most pleasurable of reunions to show our faces and say our good-byes to the others.
It was late and although every fiber of my body ached to have him consume me and fuck me senseless I went home. I knew my parents would wait up for me and I knew that once we started another session of desire and mutual 'pleasuring' I wouldn't be home until the next night. His parting words were, "That was a memorable union I hope we can have our reunion soon."
As I slipped through the front door my mother's voice came from the living room. "Did you have a good time Dear?".
"Yes Mum, Oh yes, I renewed some old friendships and had quite a stimulating evening."
The next morning I was having breakfast when a florist's van drove into the driveway. He had sent me a rose. One single blood-red perfect rose. There was no message, just a telephone number and one word "Reunion" and as I gazed at the fragile velvety petals and the up-turned hard pricks of thorns I told me mother that I would not be home for dinner tonight. But that's another story.
The author of this story wishes to remain anonymous, but any comments can be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org and they will be forwarded.
Copyright, 1997 By Dorothy
Copyright, 1995 - 2006 by Cindy. Not to be used without express permission.