by Sky Corgan
By that time, Damien was on me again. He leaned in for a gentle kiss, melting the worries in my mind away. My cunt pulsed with desire. My legs almost involuntarily spread wider for him. All the while, my mind screamed no.
Damien grabbed the base of his erect member, guiding it toward my warm tunnel. I felt the head press against my pussy, the glans painfully trying to nudge its way inside. The only thing I had put inside of myself up to that point had been tampons and that pen, neither of which were anywhere near as big as a cock.
At the first shudder of searing pain, my breath hitched, and words tumbled from my open mouth. “I'm a virgin.”
Damien's body tensed. For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at our parts.
If Damien Reed had been any other man, the excitement of deflowering a young girl would have spurred him forward. He might have grinned, or asked if I was alright. He might have even thrust forward, bathing in the euphoria of my tight passageway squeezing his wanton manhood. But Damien Reed wasn't any other man.
Almost as quickly as it all began, he was stepping away from me. I watched in stunned silence as he unrolled the condom from his length and tossed it into the garbage bin in the corner of the room. Within seconds, his magnificent erection disappeared back into his jeans, and a thousand negative emotions raced through me at once. I knew what it all meant.
Reluctantly, I scooted off the edge of his desk and bent to pick up my panties, pulling them on and trying to hold back my tears at the same time. I had ruined it. For him. For me. For us. I should have just kept my mouth shut.
For as much as my brain had been screaming at me to stop prior to our potential coupling, it was now chastising me, telling me what an idiot I had been for saying anything at all. Damien Reed was the perfect man, and I had screwed up my chance to have him. Maybe he'd never be my boyfriend, but he was certainly worthy of my virginity. Wasn't he? I wasn't sure anymore. All I knew was that I was miserable.
Not knowing what else to do, I slowly made my way for the door. Everything in me wanted to break out in a run, to move as fast as my legs would carry me to my car, to get inside and drive to my mother's house and cry on her shoulder. I was an adult though, and I couldn't act like a child. I had to handle this with some type of poise, or Damien Reed would only dislike me more. Still, I couldn't let it end as it had. I needed to know why he stopped, why he had rejected me.
He was sitting at his desk, staring down at the pen when I made it to the door. With my hand already on the handle, I turned back and said, “Say something.”
He didn't even bother looking up at me. “This never happened. You're dismissed.”
Before I knew it, I was on the other side of the door, and tears were streaming down my face. How could he possibly be so cold? I had been delicate and vulnerable, and all he had done was reject and dismiss me. No, that wasn't a man I wanted to give myself to. It was the right thing that we didn't have sex. But why did it feel so wrong.
Despite my decision not to run back to my car, I found myself walking far faster than necessary, nearly tripping over my own shoes. Tears cascaded down my cheeks, and I sniffled from time to time, drawing attention from people still in the hallway. One woman asked if I was alright, but I just kept walking, pretending to ignore her.
In my car, I broke out into debilitating sobs. I couldn't even remember the last time I cried so hard, shaking until I worried I might have to call Tanya to drive me home. She couldn't know about this though. No one could know about this. If anyone ever found out, Damien could get in big trouble. Maybe he should get in trouble for it though, I thought bitterly. He had seduced a student, after all. Hadn't he? Hadn't he seduced me?
When the tremors subsided and my eyes were clear enough to see, I put my car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. Even while I drove home, the occasional sob would roll through me. I couldn't figure out what hurt more, being rejected, knowing I had ruined my only chance with Damien, or knowing that I'd have to face him for the rest of the semester. Maybe I would switch to a different elective. I didn't give much of a crap about art anyway. The only reason I took Art Appreciation was because I thought it would be easier than any of my other elective options.
Although all I wanted to do was lay in bed and throw a pity party, I still had a lot of homework to get done, so I tried to push the events of the evening to the back of my mind while I got to work. Whenever a painful memory would slip through, I would feel my eyes begin to water. It was absolutely miserable, but there was nothing to be done about it but wait until the memories faded. They would, over time, I knew, but it was going to take a while, and seeing Damien Reed's face almost every day wasn't going to help.
I had half a mind not to go to Art Appreciation the next day, but my attendance was already off to a bad start, and I didn't want to get any further behind. With a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, I stepped into class, same as always, and found my way to the back of the room, prepared for an hour of complete and total discontent. Every time Damien Reed would look at me, I would avoid his gaze. Of course, he played like nothing had happened, conducting class with the same confidence as always. I, on the other hand, could think of nothing other than our steamy encounter in his office. The memory sent warm yearnings to my pussy, but cold stabbings to my heart.
The minutes ticked by painfully slow, as if even the clock thought it was fun to torture me. Lecture was long and boring, and I couldn't be bothered to concentrate, so I doodled on a piece of paper for most of the class. Thankfully, Damien didn't call on m. I was already pissed enough at him as it was, though I still wasn't sure why. It was easier to blame everything on him, even though none of this would have happened if I hadn't of stolen his pen.
Finally, class was over. I dragged myself out of my desk and headed toward the door. Damien intercepted my leaving though, gently grabbing me by the shoulder and pulling me off to the side of the room.
“I want to see you after class again,” he told me, his eyes betraying no emotion.
“What did I do this time?” I asked.
“I want to talk to you about your grades.”
You've got to be kidding me. He rejects me, and now he's going to badger me about my grades. Perhaps a small part of me had hoped that he would want to discuss the previous day. That was wishful thinking. His only motive was to rub salt in my wounds—to make me feel worse than I already did.
“Fine,” I said, hoping it didn't sound bitchy as I turned from him to head out the door. I would definitely need to drop Art Appreciation. There was no point in taking the class if things were going to continue to spiral downward.
Surprisingly, I was able to put Damien Reed out of my mind for the rest of the day. My emotions were completely numb towards the situation, my brain going into repair mode. Whatever happened next, it didn't matter. I couldn't emotionally handle being around him every day. I knew that now. No matter which direction this discussion went in, I would likely be dropping the class by the end of the week.
When my last class was over, I headed back to Art Appreciation with purposeful steps. He can't hurt you again, was the mantra I repeated inside my head. While I wasn't sure if it was true, I forced myself to believe it, putting up my emotional defenses so that I didn't randomly start crying in the middle of our discussion.
When I stepped into Damien Reed's office, I held my head high, displaying as much fake confidence as I could muster. I closed the door and took a seat before he even had a chance to tell me to, which I'm certain he would have.
“You wanted to speak to me about my grades?” I said, preparing myself for the worst.
“No.” He shook his head. “That was just a front to get you here so we could talk.”
“Talk about what?” I crossed one leg over the other, smoothing down the front of my skirt.
He hesitated, as if he wasn't sure how to begin. “I offer a special after school class on sex education.”
“Mister Reed,” I said, purposely trying to get un
der his skin. “I have a full load of coursework as it is. I don't have time to take on another class, especially one as unnecessary as sex ed.”
“It's . . . not that kind of class.” His brown eyes darkened, and there was a flash of uncertainty behind them.
Now my interest was piqued. Was this redemption? Was he actually offering me more than meets the eye? Despite how angry I was with him, there was an unmistakable stirring in my loins at the thought. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to suppress it. My professional mannerisms were fading, and I had to fight to keep the act up and seem disinterested.
“Well, what kind of class is it then?”
“It's not the type of class I typically offer to my college students. It's a very intimate class, delving into sexual nature and fantasy.”
The way he said it made all the sensitive areas in my body light up like Christmas lights. Just the mention of the word 'fantasy' caused my nipples to begin to perk. I sure had plenty of fantasies about Damien Reed, and this sounded like a good way to explore them further.
“If you don't offer it to your college students, then why are you offering it to me?”
“You seem like a very sensual woman. I thought you might be able to benefit from it.”
My heart fluttered in my chest. He sees me as a . . . sensual woman. It took everything in me to suppress a lecherous grin.
Damien pulled a folded up piece of paper from his desk drawer and handed it to me. “We would meet in the afternoons on Saturday and Sunday for about an hour. All the sessions are one-on-one, so you don't have to worry about feeling uncomfortable. You don't need to give me your decision now. If you're interested, turn that paper into me before the end of the week, and I'll call you to give you my address, so we can start your lessons this upcoming weekend. If you're not interested, you can simply throw that questionnaire away and pretend I never said anything.
“Please don't open that paper until you get home. There's nothing incriminating on it, but I would prefer you handle it with discretion.”
“How much would the class cost?” I asked.
“I'll take you on pro bono.” He smiled.
The paper burned a hole in my backpack all the way home. I desperately wanted to open it as soon as I got in my car, but decided to respect Damien's wishes. By the time I pulled into my father's driveway, I couldn't wait any longer. I dug the piece of paper out and flipped it open to look at the contents. Down the front was a list of questions, all sexual in nature.
Ignoring all other homework, I went to work answering the questionnaire as soon as I got inside. My responses to the questions were as follows:
How many men have you had sex with?
None.
Place a check mark next to the things you have experience with:
Vaginal intercourse __
Anal intercourse __
Intercourse with a same sex partner __
Giving oral sex __
Receiving oral sex __
What do you have experience with not listed above?
Dry humping.
Do you enjoy watching other people have sex or enjoy being watched while you're having sex?
I enjoy watching __
I enjoy being watched __
I don't like watching but enjoy being watched __
I don't like being watched but enjoy watching others __
I don't enjoy watching or being watched __
I have no preference _X_
What is your ultimate sexual fantasy?
What are you interested in learning about?
Anything you're willing to teach me.
What will you absolutely not do?
No bodily waste. No animals. No children. No anal sex.
Are you interested in learning about BDSM (Bondage & Discipline / Domination & Submission / Sadism & Masochism)?
Sure. Why not.
All the questions seemed easy enough to answer except for the ultimate sexual fantasy one. I wasn't quite sure what it meant, realistic fantasies or make-believe ones. Everyone has fantasies they'd never live out—fantasies they like to pleasure themselves to, like play rape and impossibly giant cocks stuffing them from both ends, or maybe even monster sex.
When I thought about it though, it didn't really make sense to jot down something that wasn't even possible. Still, the context depended on what he'd gather from the information, and I had no idea what that was.
Part of me wanted to write that I'd like to be taken by two men at once, but I was too embarrassed, and I didn't want to seem greedy. Besides, realistically, I wasn't sure if I would do it. I was a one-man woman. I didn't enjoy sharing, so I couldn't imagine my significant other wanting to share me. Anything else I could come up with was tame in comparison. In the end, I decided to leave the question blank.
Nervousness welled in my stomach as I turned the paper in to Damien the next day. For a little while, I had thought about waiting until the end of the week, to take some time to decide if this was what I really wanted. More than likely, these after school classes were a gateway to having sex with him.
If I didn't turn the paper in, I felt like I could wipe my slate clean, and things could continue as if nothing had happened between us. My carnal instincts wouldn't allow that though. I wanted Damien Reed. Maybe I hadn't been ready for him the first time he advanced on me, but now I was prepared. This wasn't a fantasy anymore.
SELF EXPLORATION
I battled the butterflies in my stomach as I followed my GPS toward Damien Reed's house. Turn right here, then left there, it said, being annoying as usual. The neighborhood was unfamiliar to me, somewhere out where the country boarders the city. It was a hodgepodge of mixed housing, from rundown trailer homes to quaint little site-built homes. I wasn't sure what I should expect when I got to my destination.
The road went on, and the mobile homes got sparser. Then the site-built homes got sparse as well, and I was beginning to think I had gotten lost. My stupid GPS wasn't always right, but it hadn't announced that it was recalculating, so all I could do was follow it with blind faith.
I drove like a grandmother, taking in the scenery, and moving over onto the side of the road whenever a car was behind me. There was a massive white stone fence to my right and what appeared to be a game preserve to my left. A doe and her two fawns frolicked along the fence-line, looking especially adorable, though I couldn't pay much attention to them. Damien's house should be coming up anytime now.
I checked the address one last time and then scouted ahead. All I could see in the immediate area was the game preserve and the place where the fence opened up into a driveway. This definitely couldn't be right. My GPS led me astray again.
I cursed it as I pulled into the driveway, preparing to back up and turn around. Then I noticed the numbers on the gate and realized I was at the right spot.
“No way,” I mouthed as I looked down the driveway toward the expansive house that sat on top of a small hill. I had seen it from a distance and instantly assumed it belonged to some rich ranch owner in the area. Never had I imagined it could belong to Damien Reed.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed my foot to the gas peddle and forced my Miata to climb the hill, which led up to a circular driveway that surrounded a fountain, of all things. It was fairly simple, with three stone tiers that spilled water down on each other. Surrounding the fountain was a ring of red flowers, followed by another ring of blue flowers. Horticulture had never been my strong suit, so I had no idea what kind of flowers they were, but it was pretty.
I took a deep breath as I killed the engine, looking over at the house. Somewhere inside, Damien Reed was waiting to give me lessons on sexual nature and fantasy, whatever that meant. I imagined him walking out of the house shirtless, and my loins ached with need. Such a sexual deviant, I was. Or, at least, my mind liked to pretend I was. In reality, I was a virgin, and my sexual experience was minimal. Still, my brain spent most of its time in the gutt
er, fabricating erotic fantasies, most of which involved Damien as of late. He had become a sort of obsession for me, a fetish that replayed in my mind every night when I pleasured myself before bed. It was hard to believe that my fantasies were about to be made flesh.
“Just breathe,” I told myself as I opened the door and stepped out of my car, wondering if I had overdressed for the occasion. To be honest, my weekend wardrobe wasn't much different from school days. I wore pencil skirts or ankle length skirts on most days, coupled with a blouse that covered my entire chest. My clothes were form fitting, but far from seductive.
Once I reached the doorstep, I straightened out the wrinkles in my skirt. Naturally, I wanted to look perfect for Damien. I had even taken extra time on my hair and makeup, though I doubted he'd notice. Men weren't the most observant creatures.
I raised my hand to ring the doorbell and then waited until I heard footsteps on the other side. My heart drummed in my chest as the door handle began to turn. This was it. There was no going back now.
Apparently, I wasn't the only one who didn't vary my wardrobe much between weekends and weekdays. Damien was rocking his typical tight-fitting jeans and T-shirt, making my imagination run rampant with thoughts of what was underneath them. I had already seen his impressive cock, but the rest of his naked body remained a mystery to me—a mystery I hoped would soon be discovered.