First and foremost, before moving on, I would like to point out that this is fiction. It is not based on real life. No rules were broken, no taboos explored, no lines crossed, however much it may be a dream of many of us out there. Now, without further ado …
At the time I suppose, I was naive and moronic, not to say that I’m still not those things, but I was most certainly at that point very much so. She and I, my girlfriend I mean, had been dating since Homecoming. We were both on the cross country team, although she was an actual star while I was just average. Our relationship started as most relationships in high school did.
“Hey, uuuuuuuh … God, this is hard to say. Um, are you going with anyone to the Homecoming Dance?”
“Mmm,” Carol paused at this, she looked to me as though she were thinking about how to start a paper. (By the way, her name was Carol, still is, whatever) “Nope.”
“So umm, would you like to go with me?”
“Umm, sure.”
This all happened, by the way, after we had gotten back from what was supposed to be an easy run. (Carol often ran with the boys at practice rather than the girls because she was faster than all of them.) I, being a dumb hormone driven high school boy, had decided to run with her in some lame idea to impress her despite being slower than her by more than a little. So, to really make the scene realistic, imagine it as it was, sweaty, out of breath, with the skinny guy on the ground panting while the pretty redhead stands above him. Romantic, eh?
Anyway, after Homecoming, we started to hang out more, even after the cross country season ended. We didn’t really do anything too romantic, mainly just hung out on the roof (something I had learned from my best friend who was a senior the year before) and made out. Occasionally, at the encouragement of my parents who were more traditional, we would go out on dates. Or rather, we would say we went out on dates, and then sneak away from where we were supposedly having dinner to the tunnel near the school and make out.
On our fifth or sixth date, I can’t really remember now, Carol paused from our kissing and broke away. I will admit I was a little surprised at this, but I took my jacket sleeve and wiped my mouth, and asked:
“What’s wrong? Did I bite you again?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Well then, what is it?”
“It’s just that, uh. Hmm. How do I say this?”
“Say it bluntly?”
“Ok, we’ve been dating for a little while, right?”
“Yeah … And?”
“And so, don’t you think we should maybe get a little more intense.”
“Intense how?”
“Like maybe, taking off clothes, and … alright I’ll say it. We should try having sex.”
I was immediately blindsided, although in hindsight, I should have seen it coming. Carol was very much a tactile person, in that everyone got a hug, even if you’d seen her 5 minutes before, even if you weren’t good friends, even if you were sick. (Thinking back on that, I am amazed that she didn’t get sick more often)
The problem with this opportunity though was my upbringing. I had been brought up in the church. In 3rd Grade I had a solo in the Children’s Choir. One of my best friends growing up was the pastor’s son, who actually, now that he’s away from his parents, is a complete whore. But never mind that. I was put in a position I desperately needed a way out of. I was torn by the hot cross country runner in front of me and the visions of my disappointed parents flashing before my eyes.
I chose the reasonable option, my parents. Remember when I said I was naive and moronic? This is the proof.
I ran away. As in I stood up and ran. Thank you fight or flight response (learned in Freshman Biology). As I ran, she yelled many things at me, mostly obscenities, but nothing hurt me more than “I hate you, you tiny dick, *pause* virgin!” For whatever reason that stung the most, the virgin part. (And you might be thinking, weren’t you the one to make the decision to stay a virgin? Again, naive and moronic.)
By the following Monday, I was single again, Carol was making out with Chad, a basketball star, (Actually, Chad was a pretty cool dude, like popular because he was nice.), and I felt like a scumbag.
This is where Ms. Rachael Lamb comes in. Ms. Lamb was my statistics teacher and had previously been my pre-calculus teacher back in Sophomore Year. I had always been good at Math and, finishing most of my work way before anyone else and being somewhat of a suckup, we had become good friends.
My friends and I have come to agree that at some point in their school career, every guy has a teacher crush. My crush was Ms. Lamb. She was in her 30s, having taught for a little while. She was shoulder height for me, me being 6ft. She was kind and gentle. She wore her dark brown hair in a tight bun everyday, never changing it. And she was a petite woman. (I have noticed that I tended to prefer thinner women. My appreciation of women of a “thicc” nature did not come until after high school.)
During class, I thought I was able to hide my feelings well, but apparently I was not the emotional ninja I thought. Ms. Lamb’s class was the last one I had of the day, so when she asked me to stay behind, it wasn’t a big deal. She sat down with me.
“What’s wrong.”
“What do you mean, nothing’s wrong.”
“Mike, we’ve known each other for a long time. Every other day for three years, we’ve talked. I can tell that something is wrong. What is it?”
*mumble*
“What?”
“Carol broke up with me.”
“… That would do it yeah. … Ok, we’re going to my apartment.”
“What!?”
“I have some cake left over from my birthday last week and some ice cream in the fridge. We’re going to my house.”
That was something I always admired about Ms. Lamb, her assertiveness. It was always as if she never took no for an answer.
10 minutes and a short walk later, we entered Ms. Lamb’s apartment. I had been there before one time before, on a “Meet the Teacher Night” with my parents 2 years prior. It was a small apartment, she was an underpaid teacher after all, but it was cozy. Most of the furniture was mix-maxed and it felt worn and used, but it was clear the love that was put into the space.
“You remember where the dining room is, right?”
I did, and as I walked to the table and sat down in one of the hardback wooden chairs, I noticed a lack of cat hair.
“What happened to Percival?”
“Oh, he belonged to Jack.”
“Oh …”
Jack was Ms. Lamb’s ex-boyfriend. According to her, they had been dating since grad-school, but never popped the question. She, and I by extension from her, found out why last month. He was banging her widow mother. (The irony in this situation is not lost on me. Two generations of women from the same family seeking out younger men.)
“Let’s dig in!”
As we ate from the bowls of the divine Ice-Cream and Cake that Ms. Lamb had prepared for us, the tension refused to go down. I knew I shouldn’t have brought up Jack, it still was a touchy subject.
“I’m pretty right?”
I choked a little on the cake in my mouth. I was taken aback for sure.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, I … I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“No-no-no, it’s fine. I understand. You are pretty Ms. Lamb.”
“Really John? Do you mean that?” (Yes, my name is John. Surprise!)
“Yes, I do.”
And then came the knee touch. As I would later learn, the knee touch is one of a woman’s best indicators that she likes you, at least in my experience.
This knee touch was both startling, and gentle. It was a new step in one of my closest relationships, and as my heart started pounding even faster in my chest, she leaned in and kissed me.
It was if my mind froze. And then thawed out again as my tongue felt hers against mine. And as we kissed, the word “Virgin” once again passed through my mind. And that was what caused me to make the best decision of my life. That and the hot woman in front of me. I slowly reached out with my hands, and touched the first pair of boobs in my life. Ms. Lamb broke away suddenly and stood up.
“John!”
“I-I’m sorry. It’s just that we were kissing, and then I thought. And, I-I-I’m so sorry, I-”
“No, shush. It’s ok. You can touch them. Next time though, ask.”
“Can I touch them? Yes. But be gentle.”
Ms. Lamb sat down again on her chair and unbuttoned her shirt. She took it off, then reached behind her back, and unclasped her bra. I stared in awe at the first pair of breasts I had seen bare since I had stopped nursing. I slowly reached out and touched her perky little boobs. Her nipples were already hard as I began to squeeze softly.
“Can I lick them?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
I leaned in closely, and lightly llicked Ms. Lamb’s left nipple. It was soft, and a little sweaty, but as I closed my mouth on it, it tasted like heaven to me.
“Stop.”
Reluctantly, I unlatched from Ms. Lamb’s breasts and sat up in my chair. I wiped some spit from my mouth as I watched Ms. Lamb compose herself. She breathed in heavily, then put her hand on my knee again.
“I’m going to make you feel good John, but you have to want it.”
“I-I want it Ms. Lamb.”
“Call me Rachael then. Follow me.”
She led me to her bedroom by her soft, gentle hand. She led me over to her bed and had me lay down.
“Now this is going to be a little intense, but if you want me to stop, just tap my head.”
Rachael pushed me down on the bed, a look of hunger in her eyes. She unbuttoned my jeans and then slid them off slowly along with my underwear. And then, all of a sudden, my mind grasped the concept that this was going to happen, and my dick started to swell.
Rachael leaned down and took my dick into her right hand and started to rub i, back and forth, back and forth, until it had become solid. She looked at me, a gleam in her eye, then moved her head towards my dick. She paused for a second, her breath intoxicatingly sensitive against my dick, and then, she opened her mouth and swallowed my length.
My first blowjob, and I wanted to cum in seconds. But I held out, if only for the look on her face. It was one of excitement, and sexuality, and a little bit of relief. Rachael held herself at three quarters down my dick before coming back up. Then it was down again, just a little further. And up. And down. And up. And Down. In a methodical manner she bobbed up and down my dick, going further down and faster each time until she hit my base. She held herself there, holding onto the bed now, and just wrapped her tongue around me. I felt myself about to come and said so aloud, but she just pushed into me further as I spewed semen down her throat. Rachael removed her head from my now mostly soft dick, wiped her mouth with her arm and looked at me.
“How was it?”
“It … it was amazing.”
“Good.”
“I feel a little bad though.”
“Why?”
“Well, I felt good, and you did all the work.”
“… Come here.”
Rachael hugged me tight and just looked into my eyes for a second. Then she pulled me up off her bed and sat where I had been sitting before.
“Well then, it’s your turn now. Take off my skirt and panties.”
With trembling hands, I reached out and unzipped her skirt and pulled it down. Then I hooked both index fingers into the sides of her red panties and pulled them down. Before me, I saw the object of so many of my wet dreams. I got close up to her pussy, my breath a little uneven. And froze until she spoke again.
“Lick it.”
And like that, I was unfrozen. I started to lick up and down her vaginal lips. The wetness of it surprised me, but the taste, akin to strawberries, kept me licking her. I stoked up and down with my tongue as she began to moan lightly. I continued to lick her, now moving my head upwards and a hand near. I inserted a finger, slowly, as she let out a big moan. I took that as encouragement and started to lick a little faster while slowly moving my finger in and out. I took my finger out of her, and moved in to lick her more, when her hand shoved me into her crotch. She started to hump my head as I licked her faster until she screamed out loud, and let go of my hair.
I stood up from kneeling, and got on the bed with Rachael. Her eyes were still closed in ecstasy, and when they opened, I was looking straight at them. I leaned in and kissed her again, our tongues rolling over the others. After some time, we broke apart. She spoke first.
“Do you want to continue?”
“Yes.”
I was confident now in my decision as she tore open the condom package. Rachael stroked my dick until it was hard again, and then rolled the condom down my dick. She laid me down again on the bed and straddled me, looking into my face. And then she pointed my dick upwards, and slowly sank down upon it.
It was as though the gates of heaven had opened up to me. It was ecstasy as she rose up and sank back down on my dick. Then she sank down, and just started grinding back and forth on me. As she did so, I reached up and gently played with her boobs. But I was getting close again, and I told her so. She just kept grinding against me until I came inside the condom.
Rachael got off me after that, and we just laid there basking in what we had done. I didn’t know whether I had done the right thing, but I just didn’t care.
Thank you for reading my first erotic fic. Any suggestions, comments, and critiques are appreciated whether through comments or private message. Thank you again. :)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/8ic2bv/mf_how_my_girlfriend_breaking_up_with_me_led_to