Tutoring the Delinquent

Now that I’ve spent the last two days giving her my cock, the sharpest parts of my jealousy are gone. She’s mine. She’s mine. I’ve made her say it a thousand times. And I know I’ll spend the rest of my life strangled by possessiveness for her, but right now, in this moment, that ugly emotion is at rest. There’s only the love and peace she blesses me with.

The lust is there, too.

Oh Christ, is it ever there.

Never goes away.

I’ve banged her in the shower, on the couch, on the floor, the kitchen table, in my bed and several times against the wall, but every time I come inside of her, I only get hungrier. I want her again, again, again. Even now, when we have five minutes before we have to leave for the field, I’m considering bending her over in that little jean skirt, tights and sandals. She’ll welcome my cock eagerly, too, won’t she? She’s so goddamn horny, I find myself mounted in the middle of the night, her pussy dragging up and down my swelling cock, those little mewling noises wrecking my chest, hardening me to steel.

I push off the couch and advance on her, watching the black of her pupils bleed wide. “You wearing a skirt to my game?”

She nods. “And stockings.”

“Stockings,” I repeat, gripping my cock through my mesh shorts. “Those don’t go all the way up to your pussy?”

“No.” Her knees inch together. “Almost.”

I back her into the wall, my composure already waning. “What does ‘almost’ mean?”

Her answer doesn’t come quickly enough, so I jerk the skirt up to her hips and…Jesus. My cock is at full attention now. She’s got on these stockings that stop two inches from her panties, leaving smooth sections of her thighs naked, save the bite marks I left behind.

I drag a hand down my open mouth. “You think I’ll be able to concentrate on the field with you in the stands dressed like a dick tease?”

“I’m wearing the stockings to stay warm.”

“Go put on pants, please.”

“You ripped the buttons off my last pair,” she whispers.

Fuck. She has me there. I have got to take her shopping soon. I keep meaning to bring her to the mall to buy new underwear, new clothes and shoes, but despite my best intentions, she keeps ending up on her back beneath me, sweat coating our bodies.

Before I can apologize to her for being a bad boyfriend, there is a knock at my door.

It’s the offensive coordinator, here to drive me to the game. He’s been doing it since my freshman year, unwilling to leave my arrival at the field to chance. There are voices in the hall. A whole team of them. A trainer to make sure I’m at full strength, probably preparing to give me a B12 shot. The quarterback coach. School administrators who want the bragging rights of saying they drove with me to the game.

And yeah, I want to win tonight.

I love winning. I love the game.

But there is nothing, nothing more important than the girl in front of me.

Turning my head, I shout over my shoulder at the door. “Coach.”

“Yeah, Teddy. Got the van downstairs, ready to go. You ready to kick some ass tonight, man?”

“Damn right.” I pin my girlfriend with a look. “But I’m going to need a security team to stay with Iris while I’m playing.”

There’s a drawn-out silence. “A whole team?”

“That’s what I said.” My pulse is starting to pound, my balls tightening like knots in my shorts. Jesus. No way I can play tonight without fucking her one more time. At least. “I won’t be able to concentrate until she’s guarded. Heavily. If she’s not safe, I don’t play.”

Pressing my forehead against hers, she whimpers, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking and I’m proven correct when she trails a finger down my cock through the thin material of my shorts. And that innocent touch burns me alive. My hands move of their own volition, ripping the panties down to her ankles. She’s barely managed to kick them away before I’m lifting her up, slamming her back into the wall, shoving down the waistband of my shorts to free my dick. Panting, panting, panting her name.

“Take my cock, you horny fucking angel.” I ram deep, slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream, barely managing to keep my own roar at bay. Perfection. She is tight, soaking wet perfection. “Take it like a good little girl,” I growl in her ear. “Cover it in that sweet fucking come, then get on your knees and lick it off for Daddy.”

I’m not sure where that word comes from.

I’m not sure why it feels right and inevitable.

I only know she comes like a fucking tidal wave as soon as I say it. Her eyes go wide over my hand she clenches down on me, tighter than she’s ever clenched before. So goddamn tight that I forgot about the men standing in the hallway. My hand falls away from her mouth and I lose my mind. I’m in a frenzy, pounding her seizing cunt into the wall, grinding on it with long, shuddering moans, reveling in the way her thighs tremble around me, the way she keeps her eyes trained on me even when she’s mid-orgasm.