Sex and the Stranger

‘No, I think that’s everything. Thanks so much.’ I rise from the low chair, all too aware of my pantiless state and the juices pooling in my sex. If anything, I need to come more urgently than I have at any point since I started my journey home tonight. What, I wonder, would be the etiquette on finding the nearest toilet cubicle, locking myself inside and bringing myself off on school property?

Fortunately, Jake spares me that dilemma. He shuffles all his papers into a manila folder, fixing me with his soft brown gaze. ‘I don’t want to sound like I’m coming on to you or anything, but I’m finished for the ev

ening now, and I haven’t made any plans for later. So – would you like to have a drink with me?’

Despite his protestations, to my ears it sounds exactly as though he’s coming on to me in his understated, polite fashion, and I welcome the approach, pleased to learn my strong attraction to him isn’t one-sided. It’s exactly how the evening should progress: a couple of drinks, some idle conversation, a game of footsie beneath the table. Call it a token attempt to get to know each other just a little better before we head for the bedroom. But that all takes time. Time I don’t have right now. He can’t possibly be aware of it, but at this moment I don’t care that Jake is a virtual stranger, a good ten years my junior and charged with the responsibility of educating my daughter. All I can think of is how badly I need to be fucked by him.

‘A drink would be nice, Jake, but there’s something I’d like even better first,’ I purr. I know I sound like the worst type of cougar, hunting down her young prey without mercy, but I can’t help myself. ‘Is there anywhere we can go where we can have a little privacy?’

The cutest of flushes rises to his cheeks at my blatant propositioning of him. Seems he has just a touch of the shy geek lurking below the surface, revealed in his suddenly awkward manner. An undeniable weakness on my part, it’s what first attracted me to Mitchell. Yes, I have a type, and Jake fits it to a T.

But despite my overpowering eagerness, he doesn’t tell me to slow down or back off. Instead, he thinks for a moment, then says, ‘I know just the place.’

Taking my hand, he leads me to the little stock cupboard, its door tucked away in the corner of the classroom. When he opens it, I find myself confronted with an Aladdin’s cave of teaching aids and toys: wire baskets full of soft balls and plastic bats; squeezy bottles of poster paints in every shade of the rainbow; boxes of pencils and chalk and hard rubber erasers. An empty hamster cage and a half-full bag of straw bedding take up most of the free space on the floor. With everything that’s crammed inside, there’s only just enough room for two bodies to squeeze in close together. So different to my fantasy of sex on a busy train, but still with the same sense of confinement and limited movement that made it so exciting.

‘You’re OK with this?’ I ask him, not sure why I need to receive his spoken consent. He’s certainly giving every physical indication of wanting this, if his dark, dilated pupils and the hard-on tenting out the fly of his jeans are any reliable indication.

He nods. Pressed tight up against him, I can smell the spicy cologne he favours, mingled with a hint of his own more intimate aroma. ‘I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into the classroom, Marissa. I just didn’t think things would move quite so fast. But I don’t have a problem with that, if you don’t.’

I don’t, and I prove it by rising on tiptoe to kiss him. Even in my heels, he’s a good head taller than me, and he bends his head so our mouths meet, softly at first, then with growing urgency. My tongue traces the full contours of his lips, his stubble prickling at my cheeks. Jake’s an assured kisser, giving the impression he’d be happy to explore my mouth for hours if I’d only let him, and my nipples peak stiffly against the cups of my bra.

Grinding myself onto his crotch, I hear his breathing quicken, and slip a hand down to cup the bulge that presses at his zip.

This is fun, but what really gave extra spice to my fantasy was the thought of having my lover unable to use his hands, letting me set the tempo as I played with him. There, it was easy to imagine him crushed into a tiny space in the carriage vestibule, pinned on both sides by strangers’ bodies, but if I want to replicate that here, I’ll have to find some other way.

Just in my eye line, at the side of Jake’s head, there’s a skipping rope, the soft length of white rope wrapped snugly round its two wooden handles for ease of storage. Snaking out a hand, I bring it down from the shelf. Eyes closed, lost in the feel of my lips nibbling at his, he doesn’t realise what I’m doing till I’ve unwound the rope. Catching hold of his wrists, I push them together behind him. Though he’s bigger and stronger than me, he doesn’t attempt to resist. His eyes gleam with a strange excitement as I secure him in place with the rope, looping it around his wrists and tying him to the shelf. I have no great skill with knots, and I’m sure he could free himself without much effort, but I don’t think he’s even going to try. It seems Jakey-boy gets a thrill from being restrained. Of course, if we’d gone about our seduction in a more usual way, instead of cutting to the chase with a haste that made speed dating look like a long and stately courtship, I’d have discovered this about him, given enough time. As it is, we’ve reached the point where I have him bound and at my mercy by delicious serendipity, and I’m determined to make the most of my new-found knowledge.

‘You like this, don’t you?’ I say, stroking his cock through his jeans once more. It’s trapped within the denim, desperate to be free, but I don’t pull his zip down just yet. I’m enjoying the way he bites his lip with frustration, pleading with his eyes for me to take him in hand.

‘Like what?’ he asks.

‘Being tied up. Being in a position where I can do exactly what I want to you, and you can’t do a thing about it.’

He doesn’t deny it. ‘So what are you going to do to me?’

Grinning, I tell him, ‘Whatever I want.’

With that, I finally take pity on him, unzipping him and bringing out his cock. It’s a nice size in my hand, as I wrap my fingers around it and begin to slide the velvet sleeve of skin back and forth over its plump head. He groans, and I realise I’m in danger of taking him too close, too soon.

Stepping away from him, I let my skirt fall to the floor. His eyes widen in surprise and delight at the sight of my pussy, unconstrained by underwear, slick and ready to be fucked.

There’s a box containing building blocks tucked under the bottom shelf. I pull it out and stand on it, bringing myself up to a point where my cunt is level with Jake’s proudly jutting cock.

Clearly impressed by my resourcefulness, Jake sighs with pleasure as I guide his cockhead up between my lips, engulfing as much of his length as I can. Clinging tight to his neck, I urge him to fuck me. Then a second voice seems to join in the clamour.

It isn’t my imagination. I can hear a voice calling Jake’s name.

‘Shit!’ he exclaims, his voice cracking with the effort. ‘It’s the head. She must have seen the lights still on and realised I haven’t left yet. If we keep quiet, I’m sure she’ll go away.’

I fight not to make a sound, though I’m overcome with the urge to giggle. Of all the times for someone to come looking for him!

The door handle rattles, inches from my bare backside. ‘Jake, are you in there?’

This is the moment everything goes horribly wrong, I just know it. Any second now, the head will burst through the stockroom door and find me half-naked, with Jake’s hands fastened to the shelf behind him and his cock buried to the hilt in my slippery cunt. He’ll probably get sacked on the spot, and as for me …

Yet, far from dampening our ardour, the imminent danger of discovery only serves to make me hornier. A small, shameful part of me actually wants her to catch us in the act.

Jake keeps his composure long enough to call out, ‘Yeah, Wendy, I’m here. I’d let you in, but I’m a bit tied up with something at the moment.’