I’m floating in a giant bath, lit by candles that are dotted
around the room, their scent perfuming the air as I wallow
in the water. Leaning back in the heat, totally relaxed,
feeling as though I’m all alone in the world.
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As Mark walked away from my office I couldn’t help but
notice the wetness grow between my legs. This quiet man
caused such an explosive response from me. How is that possible?
I reached down and touched where his mouth had been, sighing
at the realization that I might be having an interoffice
affair and not even know it. Who would’ve thought it,
surely not me.
The day progressed with little to no contact with him, much
to my dismay. That quickly was to change as I left the office.
Walking out not twenty feet ahead of me was the object of
my desire. I quickened my pace wanting to say his name but
unsure of my ability to speak. Again, I was shocked by my
desire and capabilities. “Mark, ” I quietly
said. He stopped dead in his tracks and gently fingered
the scratch left from that day by the lake, hoping for a positive
outcome.
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It was my sophomore year in high school and like most other
sixteen year-olds; I was a raging mass of hormones. My English
teacher was a total knockout that could easily have walked
right off the pages of any men’s magazine in the world. She
was about 28 years old, 5 foot eight in height and weighed
maybe 150 lbs or so. She had a figure that gave all of us boys
in the class erections that lasted the rest of the day. She
had shiny black hair which she wore long, it flowed down
around her pretty face and spilled down to her more than
ample breasts. To set off her black hair and olive complexion,
she had bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the dimness
of the classroom. One my favorite activities was to wait
until she sat down at her desk and then go up and ask her a question.
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