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I'm kissing my high school English teacher. It was the thought that still came first, even after they'd been doing this, what, a month or more now? His mouth was soft, open, a little too eager. She pressed both her hands to his chest--he was incredibly tall, but she was just a little over five foot. He'd told her he liked small girls. She'd seen his wife--a pretty, Asian woman, even shorter than Cassie--and she believed him.
"I'm hungry," she murmured as his hands groped their way down to the seat of her jeans, lifting her toward his mouth again.
"So am I." His tongue probed this time, sending shivers through her, making her nipples hard under her blouse. When he got a good grip on the back of her thighs, he pulled her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, putting them on more even playing field, so to speak. But now, she was at his whim, and she had a feeling she knew where this was heading.
"God, I want you," he murmured against her neck, nibbling there, sucking. She'd have hickeys all over in the morning, but there would be no one to hide them from, so she didn't care. "I want to be inside you. I've been thinking about it all day."
So had she. As much as they had done, so far, had been quick fumblings in one car or another, but they'd never had enough time or been in a private enough place to do enough to truly satisfy themselves. Truly, she was surprised he'd gone on with the pretense of dinner at all, and hadn't just met her at the door naked with his cock in his hand. The thought made her smile.
"What's more pressing?" Cassie tipped her head back as his mouth moved down the V of her blouse. "Dinner, or...?"
"You tell me." He shifted herweight--he could throw her around like a rag doll if he wanted to--and pressed her crotch into his. She felt the length of him, hard and ready. Christ, he was big! That was promising...
"Well, you do have a microwave." She rolled her hips, grinding her pelvis into his, and he groaned.
"To hell with dinner."
He carried her as far as the couch, which wasn't really a couch at all, but more of a futon, with ornately carved wooden arms and a rather hard red cushioned top. There was barely enough room on it for her, let alone him, but neither of them seemed to care. He already had his jeans unzipped, his shirt off, and was kneeling between her legs, working the buttons on her blouse.
His hands shook, so she helped him, opening it and her bra--front hook--seeing his eyes light up at the sight of her breasts. Small, but firm, her nipples were pink and prominent, her skin fair. She had the faint remains of a sunburn that followed the same V-pattern of her blouse--blondes like her burned so easily.
"God, you're beautiful," he moaned, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Cassie groaned and arched, fumbling with the snap and zipper of her jeans. Should have worn a skirt, she chided herself as she tried to work them down her hips, her clit throbbing. Her pussy had been wet for hours, just thinking about this moment.