ThomasWaller
Experienced
- Joined
- Oct 31, 2006
- Posts
- 92
I would like to relate an incident from my past and ask you to share similar incidents or fantasies. This one is real and I will use a few entries to elaborate, if there is interest expressed.
I majored in "Visual Arts" in university and took my mandatory drawing class, in the first semester. The class was taught by a guest Prof. from France, Elena Mannon. She was unlike our other instructors in that she would yank the pen or conte crayon from your hand and demonstrate an idea all over your work or scribble out your attempts and demand you start again. "That is shit. Merde.
Again." She would tell students. "Go out. Leave. Come back when you are ready to concentrate." She reduced many to tears and when she had gone too far she would tell us that if we had no talent she would leave us alone, or she would relate stories of her own drawing masters hitting the students.
She was, however, sophisticated and stunning to look at with dark hair, a pouting mouth and grayish eyes. She was in the habit of wearing tights and a loose top or sweatshirt as she flitted between the easels. She wore no bra and her ample but not overly large tits often hardened from the rubbing of the material. It drove me to distraction that all I had to do as she leaned over my work was to slide my hand up and under in order to fondle those proud breasts.
Her ass was a sculpted masterpiece, high and gloriously curvaceous. She also had one of those protruding cunts, which always cause a reaction from my cock. I was nineteen at the time and getting a reaction from my cock was absolute "fish in a barrel". I was doing very well at the time with the girls on campus but Prof. Mannon was my masturbatory passion.
This all heightened one day when we were doing life drawing. The model was one of the dance students. She was naked and in a ballet pose, one of the classic ballet positions. I was already turned on by the model when Prof. Mannon came up from behind me. "No, no, Thomas, the breasts have heft, weight. These, these are floating like balloons. Like empty sausages." She took my charcoal and scribbled over my efforts. Then she took my hand and cupped it under her own hanging right breast. "Weight! Heft! Body! Real! Start again. You are better than that." Off she went. My cock was raging and the feel of her breast lingered for the rest of class. I stayed behind after everyone left. She was so real, so earthy so unlike any of the girls that I found the nerve to speak to her honestly.
"You know Professor Mannon. I was really turned on when you put my hand on your breast." She looked straight and piercingly into my face.
"Go on." She stared unwaveringly.
I looked down, suddenly embarrassed and in above my depth. "Does a student have a chance... I mean would you..."
"Do you want to fuck me Thomas?" she asked in a matter of fact tone. She lit one of those pungent French cigarettes as she playfully asked this.
"Yes." I continued to avoid her eyes.
"Do you know that little Debbie girl that sits behind you? She would love to fuck you. You could have a nice little soda shop fuck. I would be very dangerous for you Thomas. I am what you would call "Kinky" over here. I liked how embarrassed you were when I made you touch me. I am wet now, because I am making you sexually uncomfortable. Do you understand? I don't think so." She was smoking and tonguing the wisps seductively and all the while smiling sardonically at my discomfiture.
"I have had sexual experiences... And with older women... I am not a baby."
I stammered at the floor and window.
"See, you do not understand. I would enjoy forcing you to do what you don't want to do. That is what turns me on. I suggest you go out and have a coffee with Debbie." Her talk was replete with a smirk and a kind of breathy chuckle.
"I would enjoy anything sexual with you. You are underestimating me." I looked straight into her eyes again. I was asserting my manhood.
"Alright." She stood and walked straight at me stopping inches from my chest. She intimidated and forced me, through her will, to return my glance to the floor." I am married. My husband and I take lovers, often in front of each other. I want you to come to our flat and amuse me by sucking his cock then allowing him to suck your cock. I will direct the both of you through a passionate homosexual bout of love making."
I was shocked and outraged. "I don't do that. I am not like that. I have never... would never..." I was now staring fire at her.
She stared me down forcefully. "That is precisely why I want to see you do it. I want you to do what you don't want to do. I want to force you to amuse me to arouse me. Then you may have your way with me."
I continued to look down. "But I couldn't..." She covered my mouth with her hand.
"I know, that is why you should go and find Debbie and have a beautiful vanilla fuck. She is a very attractive girl. She will spread for you Thomas. Enjoy her."
She picked up her satchel and breezed out of the room. I stood dumbfounded.
For a week, I could think of nothing but her. I replayed her every word. In class she was both as off-handed and demanding as ever with me. It was as if nothing had happened. I, however, was tortured by sordid and dark dreams, desires, fears, images, and longings,. At the end of the week I found myself standing before her after class, starring at the floor again and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
I began to speak several times but she harshly interjected, "No, Shh!"
I got more and more uncomfortable as minutes passed. Finally, she picked up her satchel and handed it to me. "Come along," she ordered...
I majored in "Visual Arts" in university and took my mandatory drawing class, in the first semester. The class was taught by a guest Prof. from France, Elena Mannon. She was unlike our other instructors in that she would yank the pen or conte crayon from your hand and demonstrate an idea all over your work or scribble out your attempts and demand you start again. "That is shit. Merde.
Again." She would tell students. "Go out. Leave. Come back when you are ready to concentrate." She reduced many to tears and when she had gone too far she would tell us that if we had no talent she would leave us alone, or she would relate stories of her own drawing masters hitting the students.
She was, however, sophisticated and stunning to look at with dark hair, a pouting mouth and grayish eyes. She was in the habit of wearing tights and a loose top or sweatshirt as she flitted between the easels. She wore no bra and her ample but not overly large tits often hardened from the rubbing of the material. It drove me to distraction that all I had to do as she leaned over my work was to slide my hand up and under in order to fondle those proud breasts.
Her ass was a sculpted masterpiece, high and gloriously curvaceous. She also had one of those protruding cunts, which always cause a reaction from my cock. I was nineteen at the time and getting a reaction from my cock was absolute "fish in a barrel". I was doing very well at the time with the girls on campus but Prof. Mannon was my masturbatory passion.
This all heightened one day when we were doing life drawing. The model was one of the dance students. She was naked and in a ballet pose, one of the classic ballet positions. I was already turned on by the model when Prof. Mannon came up from behind me. "No, no, Thomas, the breasts have heft, weight. These, these are floating like balloons. Like empty sausages." She took my charcoal and scribbled over my efforts. Then she took my hand and cupped it under her own hanging right breast. "Weight! Heft! Body! Real! Start again. You are better than that." Off she went. My cock was raging and the feel of her breast lingered for the rest of class. I stayed behind after everyone left. She was so real, so earthy so unlike any of the girls that I found the nerve to speak to her honestly.
"You know Professor Mannon. I was really turned on when you put my hand on your breast." She looked straight and piercingly into my face.
"Go on." She stared unwaveringly.
I looked down, suddenly embarrassed and in above my depth. "Does a student have a chance... I mean would you..."
"Do you want to fuck me Thomas?" she asked in a matter of fact tone. She lit one of those pungent French cigarettes as she playfully asked this.
"Yes." I continued to avoid her eyes.
"Do you know that little Debbie girl that sits behind you? She would love to fuck you. You could have a nice little soda shop fuck. I would be very dangerous for you Thomas. I am what you would call "Kinky" over here. I liked how embarrassed you were when I made you touch me. I am wet now, because I am making you sexually uncomfortable. Do you understand? I don't think so." She was smoking and tonguing the wisps seductively and all the while smiling sardonically at my discomfiture.
"I have had sexual experiences... And with older women... I am not a baby."
I stammered at the floor and window.
"See, you do not understand. I would enjoy forcing you to do what you don't want to do. That is what turns me on. I suggest you go out and have a coffee with Debbie." Her talk was replete with a smirk and a kind of breathy chuckle.
"I would enjoy anything sexual with you. You are underestimating me." I looked straight into her eyes again. I was asserting my manhood.
"Alright." She stood and walked straight at me stopping inches from my chest. She intimidated and forced me, through her will, to return my glance to the floor." I am married. My husband and I take lovers, often in front of each other. I want you to come to our flat and amuse me by sucking his cock then allowing him to suck your cock. I will direct the both of you through a passionate homosexual bout of love making."
I was shocked and outraged. "I don't do that. I am not like that. I have never... would never..." I was now staring fire at her.
She stared me down forcefully. "That is precisely why I want to see you do it. I want you to do what you don't want to do. I want to force you to amuse me to arouse me. Then you may have your way with me."
I continued to look down. "But I couldn't..." She covered my mouth with her hand.
"I know, that is why you should go and find Debbie and have a beautiful vanilla fuck. She is a very attractive girl. She will spread for you Thomas. Enjoy her."
She picked up her satchel and breezed out of the room. I stood dumbfounded.
For a week, I could think of nothing but her. I replayed her every word. In class she was both as off-handed and demanding as ever with me. It was as if nothing had happened. I, however, was tortured by sordid and dark dreams, desires, fears, images, and longings,. At the end of the week I found myself standing before her after class, starring at the floor again and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
I began to speak several times but she harshly interjected, "No, Shh!"
I got more and more uncomfortable as minutes passed. Finally, she picked up her satchel and handed it to me. "Come along," she ordered...
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