Thursday
Ryan leaned against the wall next to the band room door. Same two coffee cups in his hands. Same bag slung over his shoulder. Same early hour in the morning, 6:30, when no one ever showed up in this part of the building. Except Ms. K.
He was already hard, but his balls tightened, thinking about her. Everything might look the same from the outside, but he was definitely not the same inside. He'd acted casual yesterday all through school, and he had to hand it to her β so had she. But he'd been in a daze. And Christ, the blue balls. All morning long, since he'd left her office. He'd had to detour to the men's room at lunchtime to get some relief. It didn't take long. Seeing her kneel at his feet in that striped silk shirt and tight pencil skirt, caressing his balls with soft fingers, smiling up at him before she took his cock between her ripe lips and stroked his shaft with an experienced hand...oh, yeah. When he came, every spurt went right down that warm throat, and she'd lapped it up and asked for more.
Come on, Ryan,
she'd murmured, in that low voice that had sent all the blood straight to his dick in her office.
That can't be all you've got. Show me that you care.
Damn, the hall was quiet. It was perfect. Weird that Ms. K wasn't here yet, since she always showed up insanely early. So dedicated. Not like him, blowing off early morning swim team practice for the second time this week. He could get in trouble, but none of it mattered anymore. Swim team, grades, high school β forget it. He'd rubbed Ms. K's shoulders. Kissed her full lips. Felt them part under his tongue. Jesus, held her tits, and they were more incredible than he ever could have hoped for. But the way she'd sighed and leaned back into his hands had stayed with him the most.
He closed his eyes. Ms. K had been calm all day yesterday. Controlled. But when she'd looked his way during band rehearsal, her cheeks were definitely redder, and her eyes had seemed a little glazed. Pieces of hair had escaped that long dark ponytail that he could just feel wrapped around his hand. If that goddamn bell hadn't intruded yesterday morningβ
"Ryan?"
The wrong voice. Not Ms. K's. He opened his eyes.
"Hi, Mr. Stack."
"What are you doing here? It's 6:45."
"I have a meeting with Ms. Kowalski. She's writing a recommendation for me."
"Kind of early, don't you think?" Mr. Stack eyed the two coffee cups in Ryan's hands. "Who are those for?"
Shit. The last thing he needed was a nosy history teacher asking questions. "You, Mr. Stack." Ryan offered a paper cup and a big smile. "Want one?" Mr. Stack shook his head, eyeing Ryan irritably. You could practically read the thoughts on his face:
Seniors. They can't wait to leave, we can't wait to see them go.
"And you know how busy she gets during the day. I'd hate to be a distraction."
"Hm. Well, she is usually here by now."
I know,
thought Ryan. He was starting to get a bad feeling.
"There wasn't traffic on the road today..." Mr. Stack tapped his forehead with the pencil in his hand. "Maybe she's sick...but it's April and the weather's been so beautiful. No one gets sick right now."
And Ms. K always came to school, even when she was sick. She just drank tea all day and ordered everyone to stay ten feet away from her so she wouldn't cough on them. Doors were opening down the hall, teachers showing up, talking to each other.
"It's fine. I'll just wait here, Mr. Stack."
Ryan leaned against the wall again, but as the clock ticked toward 7:00, then 7:05, then 7:10, he knew the truth: she wasn't coming. In any way, shape, or form.
And here he was, waiting with two cups of coffee, like a tool, because he'd figured he should bring her something. He'd thought he might see her today lying on her desk, tailored skirt bunched around her slim waist, holding her creamy thighs wide open, purring
Fuck me, Ryan
in that breathy little voice he knew was hidden inside her.
Ryan looked down at the coffee cups in his hands. The least he could do was bring one to Audrey to compensate for being an asshole.
*******
The day didn't get any better. Audrey complained that he'd brought her black coffee when she liked it sweet and creamy, and didn't he know better after four months together? He couldn't resist pointing out that with all the times they'd broken up, it was more like two months, which almost got him a faceful of hot coffee. He bombed a bio test. And Ms. K came to school after all β healthy and wearing goddamn pants, with her shirt buttoned all the way up to her collar. Not an inch of skin showing. Just her long shiny hair spilling over her shoulders and swaying above her back.
It didn't matter: that purple shirt couldn't hide the full globes of her tits. Those pants couldn't keep his eyes off her slim waist in rehearsal; couldn't keep him from feeling it under his hands, tracing the firm curve of her ass and cupping it with his palm. Taking in the switch of her hips that made him die a little every time she walked around. Seeing her taut legs that went on forever in those black pants, picturing them dripping with his hot cum. Remembering how she'd slammed her hands on her desk and yelled at him about not caring.
Jesus, who cared about anything these days? He'd wanted to grab her and slam her right back. And the way she'd flashed from shouting at him to panting under his hands... He'd been so close to her yesterday, and then the bell. The fucking bell.
Ryan slouched in his chair, eyes traveling between Ms. K, calm and smiling at the front of the band room but somehow never looking at him, and the music on his stand. Not a single glance from her. Not when he missed an entrance. Not when she was telling the trombones they needed to double-tongue this passage, "and guys, make sure you're using
just