Parent Teacher Conference

Her daughter had been raving about the school's new English teacher for weeks. His readings made books come alive, she had said. He shared his writing to prompt the students to write. And his words were amazing.

Her daughter had never been particularly interested in school. Sure, her grades were fine. Good, even. But her excitement for school had waned since about 8th grade. Normal, she thought. But disappointing, too.

This was her senior year, though, and it was nice to see that Rose was liking school -- excited about going every day.

So, Shannon went to parent-teacher conference night mainly to think this man who had ignited a love for reading (and writing) in her daughter.

The night air was cool, fall just around the corner. Shannon wore only a button-down oxford shirt and a blue skirt. Peep-toe pumps rounded out the ensemble and a string of pearls graced the olive skin of her neck.

Her eyes a deep brown nearly matching the darkness of her hair, pulled back into what seemed a long ponytail. Though she must have been a few years past 40, she could have passed for 30. Running and tennis kept her fit and the skirt showed off a finely-tuned pair of legs.

She arrived at his room to find it empty, desks in a circle around the edge of the room. His large desk in the center and one chair placed in front of it. He was not there.

She took a seat and crossed her legs, her shoe dangling from her toes.

He walked in and she placed both feet on the floor, stood, and extended her hand. His eyes matched hers in darkness and intensity. His hair was slightly less dark and his hairline beginning to recede.

He wore dark-rimmed glasses, a white shirt, khakis and a blue tie. They could have been related, their appearance so similar. And then the clothing suggested they were students at the same private school. He was just a few years younger than Shannon and his smile and the dance in his eyes suggested he appreciated her looks.

As they began talking, she became entranced. His voice was low and smooth. He spoke quickly and with confidence. He told her stories about Rose and the class and the fun time he had been having getting used to a new school and new town.

Lost in each other, they talked for well more than an hour. She glanced over to the door and noticed the hall lights were off. A look at the institutional clock revealed it was 7:45 and her phone confirmed that indeed, this clock was correct. Conferences officially ended at 7.

She stood and extended her hand. He stood and walked around the desk, taking her hand and then moving in closer, giving her a warm hug.

She pulled back, surprised but smiling. She pointed to her left hand and the diamond. He pointed to his left hand, smiled, and pulled her to him again. He admitted it had been years since he had gotten lost with another person.

And when he pulled back, he could see in her eyes and she in his. His lips met hers, his hands on her waist, hers on his back. The second kiss more intense than the first, the third taking them to a new level and then the dance, the taste, the fire of deep passion and hungry need.

He leaned back against his desk and pulled her to him, her body against the heat of his rising center. His kisses went from her lips to her neck... hands on her shoulders, kisses against the pearls, the collarbone, tasting the sweetness of her perfume and relishing the warmth of her flesh.

Her hands found his belt and zipper and soon were inside his pants, against the cotton barrier to his manhood. She could feel its throbbing shaft and pulsing head and her desire intensified as a tingle between her own legs left the first traces of wetness.

She stepped out of her shoes and felt the rough, well-worn carpet against her knees. She held him in her hand as her body moved down. Her face now even with his waist. He eased his pants down and she pulled him out of his boxers, took in the sight of this man clearly aroused and ready for her. She stroked gently and smiled, her dark eyes meeting his. Her lips closed in on his head, tasting the salty purple-red flesh. Thick as a walnut, searing hot, he needed this and she craved it. Her tongue down his shaft as he admired her small form, her dark hair, her desire.

She took most of him in and teased and taunted with her lips and tongue. He leaned back, relaxed, and enjoyed this delight.

As he let go, he felt himself closing in on a powerful climax. His hand against her chin, he slowed her. Then pulled back as her lips and tongue left their traces on his incredible hardness.

He stood behind her and she felt his cock against her back as his hands worked the buttons of her shirt. His hand now on her flat stomach and against her bra. He unfastened it and he cupped her breasts in his hand as she felt his excitement against her ass.

Kisses danced on her neck and shoulders... the zipper of her skirt came down... as it fell to the floor against her feet, his hands pushed down her lace-cotton panties. His lips placed careful affection on her ass as his strong fingers rubbed against her clit, discovering sweet wetness. His tongue against the opening of her anus... against her pussy... opening pink folds as she bent over his desk. She was moaning, breathing heavy. He was in control and stroking, licking, fingering her to new heights of pleasure.

He couldn't take it any longer and as he began to feel her body tense, he stood and placed his head against her ass. The thick, round flesh opened her further as he pushed it inside. One inch, then two. Then standing. Then further. Then out, falling, in and out ... and finally, a good hold, his hands on her waist, hers against his desk. They were together and they were coming. Hard. He came first and deep inside. The thrust of him against her and the pressure and intensity sent her over and the wave and rush and wetness of her own orgasm pushed him out and he collapsed on top of her.

She turned and kissed him.

He offered her some tissue to wipe up.

Back in her pumps and skirt and shirt, she walked to the door.

He was at his desk, tying his tie. She smiled and told him she thought it wise for them to have weekly conferences about Rose.

He told her he agreed. But that they needn't always be at the school.

When she arrived home, she was composed and calm. She told Rose that her new English teacher seemed rather nice. Rose just smiled and walked off.

Shannon's dreams that night were those of a school girl first in love. A feeling she hadn't had in such a long, long time.