The term paper

[tragicomicnight]

Mark Weiss
20 years old,
lit major,
6 feet tall, dark hair, green eyes

Marie Denissonde was the reason I came to Wiltshire. She had won a Booker prize at 19 for her first collection of poems, and at 30 she had already gone from France to England to the states where she had a cushy fellowship. Her poetry was truly inspired with a dark sensuality that kept me transfixed. She wrote poetry like no other woman alive, in fact, the New York Times had called her a modern Sappho. And there I was, in her poetry workshop, and totally oblivious to whatever it was she was saying. I kept reminding myself why I was there, how I was in her class to learn and I had girls without international acclaim in the literary world to ogle. This didn't slide, though.
She had a habit of sitting on her desk, letting her long slender legs with their thigh high boots dangle off it. It was too much. "Hasn't this woman heard of a chair?" I asked myself, "does she have any clue what kind of torment..." They were birdlike those legs, up to strong thighs that would have appeared chubby were it not for my constant and most likely unhealthy observation of them. And then there was the occasional tantalizing glimpse of her white belly. Good god, if this woman knew what she was doing to me. And, when the lecture was done, (my friend Keith's notes said it was about Verlaine), I was about to leave. But, she called me back.
"Trash."
I was a bit confused. "Pardon?"
"Trash. Your term paper on Neruda. It's trash. It gives Chile grounds for declaring war. It is trash." Her voice had a faint trace of her French origins, but that was slightly intermingled with a stern uppercrust English accent. She had spent some time at Oxford.
"I was just going by an article I read. Harold Bloom said..."
She interrupted, her voice having something of a relaxed harshness to it. It was sardonic, but not altogether cruel. "Harold Bloom is not Pablo Neruda. Nor is he Matilde Urrutia, somebody who you did not even mention when discussing the Captain's Verses. How does that work?"
I was flushed with embarassment. She was right. "Well, professor..."
"My parents were not nearly so strict and uptight as to name me professor. The syllabus says my name is Marie. I also tend to say that."
"I'm sorry, Marie."
She gave me an innocuous pat on the head. "Very good. Do you consider your poetry good?"
I took a lot of pride in my work and was ready to defend against any ad-hominen attack or comment against my art. "Yes, I do. I put a lot of work into those poems."
"Your work is good."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Because Shelley was good, because Byron was good, because Keats was good. You're a throwback, worse than that, you're a dispassionate throwback. Under the veneer of romantic bullshit, I see nothing. Byron had passion and insight coupled with the desire to fuck anything that moved..." She stopped seeing the blush on my face.
"You don't think professors say that? You don't think they say fuck?"
"Well..."
"I do. I say the word, and you know what? I do fuck and I have the urge to FUCK. And FUCKING and the thought of FUCKING infuse my work with passion, something you're a little short of."
She looked into my dark, green eyes with her brown ones.
"You are not hopeless," she said, toying with my hair, "you're an obedient little doggie. You can be trained. You will not ask questions, you will not say no."
I simply nodded. This was the beginning of something I could have never imagined.

(OOC: Okay, now someone pick this up, if you please, Marie has been described minimally, so do what you like there. Light BDSM is a very open possibility.)

 

[tragicomicnight]

bump

 

[Azalea]

Marie Denissonde
30 years old
Professor of Creative Writing
French native, living in the States
5'6"......not skinny, far from plump
very dark brown hair, almost black
brown eyes

OOC: Marie will be considering what to do with her bright-eyed student.....will post soon......wanted to lay claim to the character.

 

[Azalea]

Marie

I accepted this evening workshop out of a profound ennui that called for drastic measures. These young men and women were so......conventional. They all wanted safety nets, for both their lives and their writing, but the life lived passionately has no safety nets. One sees where one wishes to be, and simply jumps.

This intense young man sitting with his gorgeous eyes locked onto my body - how could I resist the temptation to reward his thinly veiled lust for me? Oh, call it romantic attraction, call it puppy love, tame the emotion with a civilized veneer. At its root it is still the instinctive desire for sexual pleasure. Why not pay it the respect of naming it honestly?

He wanted to fuck me. That was quite obvious to me. And I saw in his youthful beauty, his animal grace, his utter sexiness, a potential for a passion that might prove the panacea for my ennui.

I asked him to stay after class one evening. After insulting his work, placing him at a slight disadvantage, I cut to the chase. Running my fingers softly through his brown hair, just barely starting to curl at its ends, I said, "You will not ask questions. Youwill not say no. Come with me, now."

Mark nodded and obeyed.....and I knew I had made a wise choice. I handed him my jacket, and turned my back so he could help me into it. Then, picking up my satchel, I motioned for him to follow me. as we walked down the hall to my office, I noted his long strides and erect carriage. I caught his sidelong glances at my booted legs.

Upon entering my office, I indicated a spot on the large, overstuffed couch I had brought in on a whim, and then shut and locked the door. My would-be poet fidgeted a bit when he heard the click of the lock into place. I sat a few feet away from him and heard a barely audible sharp intake of breath.

"Now Mark," I began with no further preamble, " let us talk of this passion that is so strangely lacking in your work. You are a handsome, virile young man. Your poetry should be oozing with your urge to fuck your lover. Why does it not?"

 

[tragicomicnight]

I sat down on the couch and I was shaking like a leaf. So forceful, so powerful, there was something very dynamic about this woman beyond her creativity. I sat and listened, trying to avert my eyes from her pert breasts that showed so well without her jacket. I was full of anticipation, though I had no clue what in the world I'd been anticipating. I saw those legs again, those long, strong legs, and then I thought about what.
"Don't be stupid, look at her, she's sexy, famous, brilliant, talented, a professor. It's not going to happen," I said to myself.
Then, there it was, the F word again. It was so beautiful coming out of her mouth, the edge was still maintained, but it was smooth as well. It was a sharp and velvety word when it came off of her lips. And the lips, too. Those were amazing lips. I wanted to stand up and walk right over to her and kiss her. Too direct. WAAAAYYYYY too direct. I was never that good with women. There was the occasional handjob back in high school that was like winning the lottery and one girl I dated over the Summer, but nobody like Marie. Marie. I was thinking of her as Marie. Funny.
"Now, Mark," she said, " let us talk of this passion that is so strangely lacking in your work. You are a handsome, virile young man. Your poetry should be oozing with your urge to fuck your lover. Why does it not?"
I was handsome, I was virile, I was... speechless. I reached for words, but I was stuttering again. "Well, Marie," I started, "I don't have a lover per se..."
A sultry smile crossed her face and I had no clue why.

 

[Azalea]

I could not believe what I was hearing from the lips of this sexy young man......he had no lover? A smile ghosted across my lips, though I tried to maintain a rather "stern" mien. Did Mark truly not realize how desirable he was? Better yet.....a provocative suspicion crept into my mind......could this young man actually be a virgin? At this thought, the welcome slow burn of spreading arousal began to flood my loins.

But....I must proceed carfeully. My impulse was to jump on him and rip his clothes off. That would not do at all.....yet.

"Mark, that is hard to believe. You, with no lover? That is an unlikely story," I quipped. "Handsome young American men can have any fuck they want, or so I hear!" I laughed a bit, to suggest I believed he was toying with me.

A faint blush crept up Mark's finely-chiseled features. I was right, I thought, it is possible he is a virgin. i fought an urge to lick my lips.

"Do I embarrass you, mon cher? Good! You need to let your passion show, plainly, to wear it like a proud garment," I said, and edged closer to him on the couch. My usually sure instincts told me to make a little move, and I took hold of his hand that was gripping the cloth of the couch's cushion. I held his hand, kissed it once, very softly, and said, looking into his eyes, "Only when you are not afraid to show your strongest desires will your poetry become alive, with fire and truth."

 

[tragicomicnight]

Her reply had me rather shocked. "You, with no lover?". I had never really thought of it as an absurdity. I'm a decent looking guy, but I am a social disaster. I'm nervous, awkward, and worst of all in this day and age compulsively honest. I had ended more than one chance at a date or something further by blurting out that I couldn't pay attention because I was staring at the girl's breasts. At this point, I'll admit it. I was a virgin. My girlfriend and I had gotten very close, but we decided not to. SHE decided not to. I was good and ready, being male, young and naked with her female, young and naked right nearby, but we didn't quite make it. "Handsome young american man can have any fuck they want..." Did she just...what was I hearing? Was I hearing it? She teased, her lips came into a soft smile. They were a rosy pink, a perfect rosy pink, a ready, willing, sweet, intoxicating...she said I should wear my passion like a proud garment. At this moment I was. I strained to cross my legs and hide the erection creeping up on me. There was something about this office, with its portrait of Anais Nin over her desk, the smell of roses and...well, I could smell something else. A musky, damp, marvelous smell. It was subtle, but it was there and it was driving me crazy. That woman scent, those lips, those legs, those breasts, her eyes warm and affectionate now where once they looked so stern, it was all conspiring against my self restraint. And then, she kissed my hand. It was a light little raindrop of a kiss, but I felt her tender hand taking mine. I looked into her face and saw the desire on it, the gentle but forceful yearning in it. "Marie, may I..." I stopped myself. No questions. Ours is not make reply, ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die. Tennyson had it right on the money. Sure I wasn't under the threat of being butchered by Cossacks, but a slap on the face and some kind of probation might have been in order. But I stopped caring. It was a languid, yet happy moment when I lost the end of the phrase and our lips united. Sweetness, tenderness, elation. Bliss.

 

[Azalea]

"Marie, may I....."?? What an angel, does he not even know how sexy he is. I thought, and, knowing instinctively what he wanted so badly and I was so eager to give him, I inched my hips ever so subtly closer to him. Cupping his chin in my hand, I drew his face close to mine, his brown eyes so bright with sudden hope and anticipation, and brought my lips within a hair's width of touching his. Gazing as provocatively into those eyes as I could, I whispered, "Kiss me?"
I wanted him to initiate it, to make the connection complete, lip to lip, and he did......and oh, his lips were so soft and tentative. I parted his with the tip of my tongue, as gently and teasingly as I could, and he opened his to let my tongue into his mouth, meeting with his. I felt his shiver and placed my arms on his shoulders, drawing his chest closer to my breasts, and my hands stroked his hair and back as I prolonged our kiss.

Then, i broke away suddenly, and sat back. I must make him work a little for it, after all. I staightened my tight skirt a litle and said, "Is that what you wanted, Mark? "
It was certainly what I wanted! But I wanted to bring out a little more boldness in him, to teach him to express his wants and work for them.
I touseled his hair, enjoying its silky feel between my fingers, fighting to control my urge to rip his shirt off, and said as jauntily as I could, "You must tell me what you want, mon cher. Do you think I am a clairvoyant?" And I rose, tugged just a bit at my skirt, and walked to a side table on which sat a bottle of wine and some glasses. Pouring myself a drink, I said, "Would you care for one, Mark? If I'm going to give you private lessons, we need a little inspiration.......our metaphors will flow far more easily with a little help."

 

[tragicomicnight]

Moist lips against mine. Parted by warm, dextrous tongue. I felt her breasts rubbing against me. Round, soft, shapely. I am paralyzed with ecstacy as I taste her. She broke the kiss and then sat back, looking even sexier than she had before. I didn't think it was possible. She was just more human, less of a distant figure from the ivory tower of learning and more flesh more fluids. Such great flesh and the fluids I had tasted were spectacular. I wanted more. Different juices from more forbidden and darker parts of her. She asked if that was what I wanted. "Yes, Marie," I said softly, a little shocked still, "I wanted that. It was wonderful. It was..." Loss for words. I really couldn't think of anything yet. Then it hit me. "It was like Summer strawberries and laying on wet dewy grass in the morning." She began to play with my hair. "You must tell me what you want, mon cher. Do you think I am a clairvoyant?" I shook my head and she offered a drink. I accepted mutely. I had never had Sherry before and this particular Sherry actually came straight from Jerez. I had had little to drink, but still felt my inhibitions slipping. It wasn't the wine. She had brought out something in me. "Marie, I would like to kiss you again." I felt bolder. "Not just on your lips. In other places, wherever you like." I sighed as she gave her reply.

 

[Azalea]

I carried my sherry back to the couch and handed a glass to Mark, who drank his rather swiftly. I sipped mine, his words sounding in my head......"Not just on your lips".......this was more and more promising by the minutue.

"You are bold, and that is as it should be......an apt pupil indeed," I purred, sipping the last drop and holding a tiny bit in my mouth. I rested the small finely faceted crystal glass on the table, then sat by him and kissed him again, carefully letting the bit of sherry slip into his mouth with our next kiss. His eyes widened, and I unbuttoned the first tiny pearl button of his indigo blue shirt.

"Mark, I will model for you as a good instructor always must do, and show you what Iwant ," I said in a low voice, and continued to unbutton, letting my kisses wander from his mouth to his temple and then to his earlobes, nuzzling and licking and nibbling. When I reached the last button above his belt line, I stopped and parted his shirt to reveal his firm chest, and slipped my hand inside and stroked his skin.

He did not speak, but his breathing changed, at first quick and almost panting, then slowing to very deep breaths, and he raised his hand to my buttons and began to follow his teacher's good example. As he touched my first button, I lightly nibbled his bottom lip to encourage him....

 

[tragicomicnight]

"An apt pupil indeed..." she called me. The way she kissed me, and the taste of her lips, I wasn't sure whether it was her or the wine that was so sweet. But, after feeling her kiss me longer and deeper, I soon became even more certain that her li[s were something fantastic. It made me even thirstier for the juices I smelled flowing through her. I wasn't quite sure I could put it like that, though. It was still just a bit too brazen for me. And then, she offered to show me what she wanted. Even if I had wanted to put up any kind of resistance, I certainly couldn't, the smell, the delicious kisses...it was all too much for me. Her delicate hands with their thin fingers, and unpolished though beautiful nails began to unbutton my shirt. I couldn't wait to do the same to her. I had been that far with girls before, but of course she was something different, she was everything I wanted but had failed to get. Class, sophistication and sensuality incarnate. What might have been called an "It" girl. But she was bigger than "It". She redefined what "it" was for me. She revealed my chest, not exceptionally strong or well defined, but still in good shape. She let her hands play with it, filling everywhere she touched with a gentle electricity. She scratched a little with her fingernails. and it drove me wild. I bit my tongue, savoring the little bit of pleasurable pain it incurred. She sucked on my lip as she smoothed the hairs on my chest, twirling her fingers in them like she sometimes did absentmindedly with her own hair during lectures. She brought my hands to the buttons of her shirt. Could this be happening? Could I soon be able to taste and feel the breasts I had stared at for months? I opened her shirt carefully and with as much wonder as the men who discovered Tutankhamen's Tomb or the Rosetta Stone, I beheld them. They were somewhat largish, in the late B cups, and perfectly round. She had them contained in a white bra with lacy floral patterns on it, which I was more than eager to get off. She had long, dark nipples, the same red as roses, surrounded by a large ring that took up most of her breast. I touched them hesitantly, but not without enthusiasm, they felt as smooth as the skin on her hands, even moreso. The skin was pliant and obedient under my fingers, willing to satisfy the curiosity of my hands. I don't know why but I found myself writing out loud.
"Sun and moon,
Round perfection,
Fruit of woman,
Aphrodite and Demeter,
Alive beneath my fingers,
Fount of preservation
And I drink..."
I stopped myself, planting a light kiss on her right nipple, waiting for her to bid me go on.

 

[Azalea]

I nibbled lightly at Mark's lip for as long as it took him to unbutton the five tiny silver buttons on my silk blouse, playing gently with the hair on his chest. I had halted at his beltline, but he surprised me a little by tugging the blouse gently out of my skirt and getting to the final button. He pulled the two sides apart, baring my breasts, which were clad in a front-clasped white lace bra.
I heard his breathing change when he undid the clasp and freed first my right breast, which he softly and tentatively kissed. Then he whispered something about Aphrodite as he bared the left breast as well.

"I knew you would be a quick study," I said as I tugged his shirttails out of his khakis and undid his final two buttons. Parting his shirt, I began slipping it from off of his shoulders, and stopped while I had his arms pinned to his sides.

"Get down on your knees and kiss them both. Suck my nipples, hard," I commanded him, sliding my hips a bit forward on the couch and spreading my legs open so he could get between them.

He hesitated only a moment, then did as he was bade, and as he did so I pulled off the shirt and kissed him. Getting onto his knees, he leaned his bare chest against my crotch and obeyed my directive, his mouth hot and sweet on my nipples, each in turn.
I twisted my fingers in his hair as he sucked and licked, his hands resting on my upper thighs where they emerged from my black leather boots.

I had the distinct sense that taking this young man's vriginity was going to be like eating my way through a box of very fine chocolates filled with pleasurable surprises. I leaned my head against the couch and moaned, to encourage his best work....I always did try to motivate excellence in the performance of my students.....

 

[tragicomicnight]

Her voice became authoritative again. She spoke in a slightly more sultry version of her teaching voice. And it was driving my body insane. My poor cock was quite ready to burst straight out of my pants. But there were more pressing things at hand. Like those breasts. Those perfect not too large not too small breasts that yielded so gracefully under my hands and begged for my attention. "Kiss them," she said, "suck them hard." She didn't need to tell me twice. She parted her sexy legs and I scooted between them, setting my hands down on her boots for support. The leather felt so good, so smooth and yet so rough. I wanted to feel on every part of my body. But, those breasts needed me and I needed them. I took one of them into my mouth, with what was at first just a prolonged kiss. I made it more, though. I opened my mouth wide and extended the kiss, taking more and more of the breast in. I moved the muscles of my jaw around, sampling all of its textures, gaining an understanding of its shape. I quickly grew very good at it, developing a rhythm. I felt her nipples hardening in my mouth and I tugged lightly on them. I was surprised to find Marie giving a little moan of satisfaction. She dragged the spike of her boot heel up and down my sides as she bucked a little. Her legs were wrapped tightly around me, almost roughly, but not quite. "Marie, this is driving me crazy, oh, Marie, help me!" I was getting really excited. My breath was getting very shallow I needed relief. She released the tight grip her legs had on me and she kissed me deeply. What she did next shocked me even more than she had before. Those creamy white hands wandered to my zipper...

 

[Azalea]

Mark was shockingly good at pleasuring my breasts with his hot mouth. My moans were honest, and I wrapped my leggs tightly around him and writhed a little against his body. But when I heard his voice, so plaintive and maddeningly sexy, asking me for help........

I sat up, and reached for the zipper of his crisply ironed khakis.
What a well-kept little soldier he was! I slid off the couch on my knees and tugged it down, slowly, then put my hands on his belted waist and slid the pants down around his hips to reveal an erect cock practically bulging out of his silk boxers.

"What is it you wish me to help you with, mon cher?" I purred into his ear, and, with both of us kneeling upright, I cupped his tight little ass and brought his groin next to mine, and used my tongue to part his lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

He did not say a word as I broke away, pushed him gently down onto the rug, and tenderly removed his member from its silk entrapment. His breath seemed to catch in his throat and then suspend.....his eyes grew bright, his mouth opened to speak but I put my finger in his lips and said, "Shhh, don't speak, just learn."

I nuzzled his penis with my face, breathing lightly along its length and using ny nose to rub it. Mark's hips shifted a little as he pressed his ass into the floor, his thighs quivering ever so slightly.
He smelled wonderful, and I carefully slipped his boxers down around his hips and then his thighs, stopping at his knees, so that his legs were trapped a bit. Then I licked my lips to wet them thoroughly, took a deep breath, and lowered my mouth onto the head. I let my wet mouth move slowly and gently up and down several times, going a bit lower each time.......then suddenly sank to his groin, swallowing up his entire cock. When my mouth made contact with the curly hair surrounding it, Mark groaned deeply, and he began twisting my hair through his fingers.

I went up just a bit and used my tongue to flick him up and down, around, especially on his frenulum, flicking swiftly back and forth, building speed, fluttering like a hummingbird's wings. I began to very gently stroke and massage his balls as I pleasured him with my mouth.

 

[tragicomicnight]

The sound of the zipper was quiet and subtle, like the scent of her. With her elegant hand, she reached in and extricated my manhood, giving it a careful, reverent squeeze. "Help you with what, mon cher?" she asked, teasing a bit. With a little push that I found beautifully assertive, she pushed me down to the red, oriental rug. I relaxed, and I melted into it. I might very well have been nothing more than one of the concentric circles it pictured at that moment. It had been a few months since a girl had touched me there. My ex, Sandy liked to play with it, but still acted as if it were a chore. Marie savored the feel of it, she scratched it with her fingernails just a little bit, she pumped and massaged the shaft. It was an object of great beauty and importance to her. When she let go for a moment, I felt disappointed and a little confused, but then she lowered her face to it. She took in the aroma as if it were a bouquet of flowers and nuzzled it gently with her face as though she were a mother cat with a kitten. She opened her lovely mouth that had already been so good to me, and she began to pump it just as her hands had. But her mouth felt different, it was wet and tight and warm and safe. It was full of mysteries and now, it was full of me. The suction and the pulling were intense, but not painful. It was just that I had never felt anything like it. She gradually made her way down until all of a sudden, it was all in her mouth. All 7 inches of me were tickling the back of her moist and grateful throat. I felt something welling up in me, the passion that made me want to tell her how I felt:
"Sanctuary,
Warm, pleasant waters swirl around,
Graceful, devoted ravenous,
Drinking deep
Eagerness for arcane places
New ventures
Splendid waters within her,
Longing for other sojourns..."
I felt as if my heart had stopped for a second. "Marie, I'm very sorry, but..." I moaned, I was almost ready, "Marie, I think I'm coming."

 

[Azalea]

"Marie, I'm very sorry, but I think I'm coming....." he had said, as his hips twitched. Pouvre l'homme!
I removed my mouth from him long enough to say quietly, witha wry smile which I made sure he noticed, "C'est une idee!" Then I quickly returned to my ministrations. Again, I took his whole shaft into my mouth and resumed flicking his head as I milked him.
He was right......I felt his balls tighten, his quivering thighs stiffen a bit, and then he released his seed deep into my throat, throbbing and moaning.

I swallowed his seed and slowly sat up on my haunches. I cannot describe how handsome, how sexy his expression of mingled wonder and shame was. His deep blush was so winsome, I wanted to cradle him in my arms and shower him with kisses. But there was more to this lesson. I stood up looking and began unzipping and removing my boots. As I pulled each one off, I noted with satisfaction the eagerness in his eyes as he watched the movement of my legs, the gradual revelation of my crotch as my skirt rode up.

To his credit, he lay very still and quiet, though still trembling with his pleasure. I moved my hips back a little, reclined against the back of the couch, and beckoned Mark with my finger to position himself again between my legs.

"It is your turn, now, mon cher," I whispered, running my hands along the inner part of my thighs. I wondered what verse of tribute he would compose upon seeing my pussy?

 

[tragicomicnight]

I was once more paralyzed as I watched her sexy mouth swallow me. I felt so strong and yet so vulnerable at the same time. There was a mutual control between us. I felt a bit embarassed, but she was not at all ashamed of swallowing me, of letting the force of my orgasm dribble down her throat. She sat up and she began to unzip her boots. I can't explain it, but the act was almost as sexy as when her breasts were unveiled. I saw her marvelous white legs continued into pointed feet with little round toes painted a dark red. They gave a much different impression than the boots that had concealed them. They were small and delicate and they seemed to belong in the slippers of a dancer and not in the erotic badge of authority the boots were. She was somehow more vulnerable now. Her skilled pulled up past her knees and there were panties. They were black lace and embroidered with a fleur de lys. I noticed a large wet spot in the center, the source of the sweet pheromones wafting through the air. She beckoned, and of course I followed her fingers to the spot between the legs that I had taken to suck on her breasts. I sat down licking my lips as she moved her fingers around inside the black treasure chest that concealed the great bounty I wanted so badly. She removed her hand and put a finger in my mouth. I had eaten my ex out before, but she didn't taste like Marie. Marie had a tart, fruity taste beneath the yeasty feminine one. I couldn't help but want more of it. And as she pulled the panties down, I now knew that was what I was going to get. She was open, the lips a pinkish red color, somewhat tight, but still hungry looking. A forest of black down surrounded them, somewhat trimmed, but still respecting that the hair was a part of her body, a beautiful thing. I ran my hands through the bristles and then lightly touched the lips to anticipate that which my mouth was about to get. I then gave a long lick, I ignored her swollen and eager clit to get straight to what I wanted. It was a little selfish, But anybody with a smell like that in their nose would be. I parted the lips with my fingers and went in. I explored. I rolled my tongue about in the chambers of her fecundity, searching out the places that made her respond most. I poked and prodded and danced about. I withdrew as she began to moan louder because I felt passion inspiring me.
Fertile river,
Garden from which life crawls,
You are my master.
You beckon me to serve
With perfumes like no other,
You rain sweetness into me,
I beg,
I plead,
I sit in humility,
I serve.

 

[Azalea]

"Mon Dieu!" I exclaimed with a low groan.......who was this child, this enfant terrible who was tormenting me with such sweet pleasure? From where had this esoteric knowledge come? No virgin should be such a prodigy of this art! And then, to compliment his Olympic-class tongue-fucking with a recitation of spontaneous verse......at least, it felt spontaneous. No one could have convinced me he had written those lines in advance.

And I, who had sought to dominate Act One, scene two of our lovemaking, who had tried to intimidate him by brazernly spreading my legs to then finger myself, taunting him........how quickly he had reversed the tables and reduced me to a trembling votary.

AS he knelt and waxed poetic, I sinuously slid off the edge of the couch to kneel in front of him, and shut his mouth up with my kisses, tearing off my shirt and bra as I probed his honey lips in my hunger and heat. Now I wore only my brief, tight skirt, which was hiked up around my thighs. I shifted my knees so that my thighs were opened up, pressed my breasts against his chest, took hold of his penis and tugged gently, my other hand pushing his buttocks so the head of his shaft made contact with the entrance to my pussy.

 

[tragicomicnight]

This woman was doing things to my mind, to my body, to my everything that had never been paralleled by anything else. I tried to find something as beautiful as this occasion in my life, but there was nothing I could think of, no parallels that could be made. "Mark," I said, "this is the crowning achievement of your life. It couldn't get better than where you are right now.” Her moans of satisfaction, the greatest taste I had ever had in my mouth, pleasing the person in my life I wanted most to please. In her class, I had the intent of doing everything I could to make this person I had such respect for pleased with me. And in an entirely different circumstance, I was doing so. I was finding the passion she wanted so much. And then, she did it. She elevated the situation to something even more glorious. She was so sleek and agile as she made her way off the couch, but it was almost childlike the enthusiasm her actions showed. It was refreshing in its own way to see her lacking composure. But then again, it's like Bob Dylan said in one of his songs; "Even the President of the United States has sometimes got to stand naked." No matter how great or beautiful someone is, they still had the same temptations and desires the lowly confused people have. She removed her shirt and bra almost frenetically, eager to free herself of their constraints. Once more I found myself looking at the breasts I admired so much. I reflected on the feeling of them in my mouth once more, but she had a greater urgency than she had when I suckled her breasts. She NEEDED something now instead of wanting. I needed it, too. She began to kiss me and stroked my chest with her breasts, poking me oh so gently with her hardened nipples. She spread her legs and I knew what she wanted. I would have done so myself, but to my delight she already had my manhood in her hand and was starting to push it into her. I could feel the dampness and the tightness of her entrance start to constrict around me. It felt a bit like her mouth, but it was more of everything her mouth was. Having her suck me was an epiphanous experience, but this was something greater. I felt almost like weeping.
"In dark secret places
I feel safest,
Warmth washing over me,
Muscles acting for my benefit,
Another set of lips to kiss me,
Deep, dark brightness,
Satisfaction.
I am home."

 

[Azalea]

I found my self feverishly murmuring endearments as Mark followed my lead and pushed inside of me.....so gently, so sweet he was, his body shivering with a joy that I understood and shared. For a few moments, we knelt awlwardly, but I soon saw the need for comfort, and gently pushed him so that he lay on his back, and then I lowered my pussy onto him fully, to his hilt, groin to groin. I moaned and so did he, and then our dance began in earnest.......his first dance! How awed I was at the thought.....
I decided it should be memorable.

Delaying my own urgency, I supported much of my weight on my knees and moved slowly, spiraling my hips and squeezing him gently with my vagina in a slow, steady rhythm. He gazed at my breasts swinging above him, and instinctively began fondling them as I led the way, rocking his penis with my body.

Because he had already climaxed recently, he was able to exercise some control, and our sensuous dance went on, a beautiful samba of cock and cunt entwined in the eternal act of ultimate pleasure.....my mind thought in hyperboles as I savored the heat of our bodies and the tantalizing stimulation of our sexes.

As my excitement built, I finally succombed to my need for release and quickened my movements. My excellent pupil followed my lead with perfection, and our samba began to evolve into a passa doble......our intensity increased, and both of us were panting and moaning, a suitable choral accompaniment to our choreography......

 

[tragicomicnight]

New tornado of sensation. First foray into depths of woman. Sensual squeezing. She moved against me. Soon, I was lying on the floor again. She had regained her authority in a way, but still I felt like we were on equal ground. Even though I had no experience and I could only assume her to be a true sexual prodigy from the way she made me feel, I felt that we were on the same level. Passion can be a great equalizer. She moved on top of me, I felt her absorbing my cock, taking it all in. The immersion was amazing. It was a new step forward for me into something all important. It could only be compared to learning to read. I was, in a way, learning a language. I was taking in the vocabulary of her body, what every tender movement meant, what every shudder of ecstacy would lead to. I was transfixed by the swaying of her hips and the movement of her breasts. I couldn't help but play with them, feel their weight in my hands, pinch the nipples to create new noises from her. I couldn't speak anymore. Poetry was racing through my mind, but I couldn't say any of it. The force of my whole body was in the act. And suddenly, she was fast, she was urgent. It was like some fantastic devil had possessed her and ordered her to do profane and beautiful things to me. And she stopped. I didn't need to know why. I could feel it. It was as natural to me as my own heartbeat, her body had become a part of mine. Her face was a marvelous mix of defeat and triumph. Her mouth formed a wide "O" shape as she screamed. I screamed with her. We made a large, contented noise together as I felt the fluids start to push forward. But, I stayed myself. I didn't want to finish yet. I had to keep going, I had to satisfy her more.

 

[Azalea]

It was neither rhyme nor meter that mattered to me as I rolled and rocked my hips more urgently, my eyes closed and head up, the tender hands of this young god cradling my breasts as they swayed with the rhythms of our passion.As the shuddering ecstasy of my release begun to spread through my groin, I could not keep from crying out. Mark's cry matched my own, but he had not reached his peak yet. I could feel him hot and hard inside of me, and I contuinued to move against him.

My eyes opened to find him looking into them, and I bent to engage his mouth in a profoundly deep kiss. His fingers pinched my nipples harder, and I gripped his shoulders and rolled him over so that he was atop me. This would give him the greater control over the timing and intensity of his thrusts.

At first seeming almost dizzy with our sudden shift coupled with the overwhelmingly new sensations I understood he was feeling, his love dance faltered and broke rhythm. But he soon fouond the motion and timing he needed, instinctively taking advantage of his superior position and driving his penis morer deeply and firmly into my pussy. I could now feel his head probing at my cervix, and I found the friction of his pelvic bone stimulating me anew. I found myself moaning and arching my hips up against him, taking pleasure in his facial expressions as his body taught him what to do.

 

[tragicomicnight]

She could feel how close how I was and so her movements got more intense. Her movements were more vehement, almost feral. The logical part of my mind that was the other component to my ability to compose verse had been dead for several minutes. But, I was relishing it. Those moments, when suddenly the need to think was gone from me, the need to make sense of things was no longer hampering, the need to explain and analyze conveniently laid to rest. The best part being that even now as I have my logic back, I do not need to go back and figure it out. The closest I can say is that I had found passion. Only the beginning, but passion nonetheless. The impact and the squeeze were getting to be delightfully insufferable for my poor inexperienced body, and the thinking part of me was not going to prolong my resistance. It was not an act of selfishness that I finished then. I didn't ask permission this time. I couldn't have even if I tried. I just let myself flow into her, our sensual pungent fluids mixing inside us. No speech. Feral moans again. Just as well, since speech had eluded her as well. Not even the "yes" or "mmmm" that could be heard before came out of her. It was noise now. No rules, no walls, just noise. I felt her begin to contract tighter around me, seeing that she too was near release. I found my voice then, I had to speak. "Marie...I want to lie down with you, I wanna wake up with you..." it became sleepy and distant but not insincere. Seldom had I meant anything so much.

 

[Azalea]

Mark's throat was emitting a low, almost inaudible thrumming sound, and his eyes were closed, his head bent down as he began to come inside of me for the first time. At the thought of this gift of his virginity, the realization that my vagine was his first flesh and blood cock sheathe, my climax matched his and I felt my hips pushing up against him to milk him, my inner walls , full of his seed, contracting intensely against him. I was grunting and crying out with this sweet flood of our mutual juices commingling and anointing our passion.

As our pleasure sbsided, Mark whispered something about wanting to wake up with me, and I remembered that my new couch unfolded into a pretty comfortable bed. I let him lie on me for a bit, both of us breathing heavily, and then I gently pushed him off of me and sat up, running my hands through my hair and looking down at him with what I hoped was a beatific expression. He had done excellently for his first time, and I wanted to reward his efforts. Good teachers always reinforce desired outcomes.

"Mark," I purred into his ear," you were incredible, my love. Tres bien, tres bien." Then I dragged the cushions from the couch and pointed out to him that it could open into a more comfortable arena for our continued lovemaking.

 

[tragicomicnight]

Just lying on top of her was transcendent. I felt as if her body was someplace I was always supposed to be and everything else, everywhere else, was just meant to lead up to her. The dampness of her slick, salty, sweaty skin against mine felt so good. It was like the moisture in a warm shower. She removed me from on top of her, and then she sat and played with her hair. The look on her eyes was like that of some Renaissance painter's Madonna. It was not a far cry by any means. I can tell you that remembering her, memory does not exaggerate a thing as it often does, she was really as beautiful as I remember her, as perfect and pristine and content as I remember her after our first orgasm together. "Mark, you were incredible, my love," she said, "tres bien, tres bien."
I beamed with pride. There was no pride like it before. When I asked to lie with her, to wake up next to her, she wordlessly took the cushions from the couch. I realized what she was doing. Together, we pulled it out into a bed and I just sat there as she sprawled out. I thought of the story of Cleopatra sending herself nude in a carpet to the lucky Caesar. I imagine the poses were exactly the same. But, in spite of her raging sexuality, she looked so virtuous and peaceful. I'd almost forgotten which of us was the virgin, I just sat there for awhile, full of wonder, awe and, suddenly, I realized it...love.