A Wet Encounter

Jordan felt a buzz in his pocket as he slung his laptop bag around his shoulder and shut the locker door with his foot. He waved to a passing friend and fished out his phone.

New Message :

Sorry J, meeting got cancelled. Mr. hart didn't show up so student council cant meet today --

Reply/Ignore

He groaned and leaned against the wall to respond.

Thanks for telling me. Can you send the homework for math? I left class early to get something for the meeting.

Jordan had told his father that he'd be staying late, and his old bus subscription had expired at the turn of the year. He'd have to wait until 6 for his ride to come unless he car pooled with a friend.

He absentmindedly gnawed at his lip while he thought. He

could

use the gym and study at school. He could work out and review the physics unit they'd been working on at school just as easily as he could at home. The small room next to the gym had some treadmills and other machines to work with, and it was open until 7 everyday. He'd prefer to swim of course, but the pool closed after school on Fridays.

Jordan sat at an empty table in the silent library, laying out his books on the heavy wooden surface. He reread the chapter and began working through some practice problems, referring to some science related forums online whenever something stumped in. Jotting down the most important formulas, he worked until one of the staff told him that the library was being closed. He realized he was the last one in the room, apologized, and left.

Jordan adjusted the straps of his backpack as he headed to the stairwells for the downstairs locker rooms. He passed by the Girl's shower room and the yellow "Reconstruction -- No Entrance" sign that had been up for the past few days, and pushed the door into the Boy's locker room. He dropped his stuff on the bench and stripped to his briefs. He spun the black dial on his locker, unlocking the yellow door and pulling out its contents. He pulled up the loose exercise shorts, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Curly brown hair fell around his lightly tanned faced. The dusting of freckles under his green eyes had been picked up from swimming outside almost every weekend. He had a lean and strong build, nothing spectacular, but fit all the same.

He slipped a white jersey over his head and jogged up to the gym. He nodded to the older janitor as he turned the corner. Stepping into the enclosed gym, he flipped on the fans and pushed his earbuds in. He went through his stretch routine, pressing against the polished concrete wall. Then, attaching the safety clip to his shirt, he set up a medium difficulty run on the treadmill to loosen up.

Boston

,

Styx

, and

Florence + The Machine

filled his ears as he worked. He had a good view of suburban homes near the International School and city in the distance. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky near it fading from yellow, red, to a vibrant purple and finally blue and black. Streetlights flicked on all at once, lighting up the veins of the city as cars rushed across the web of roads.

Jordan spotted motion out of the corner of his eye as he dropped down from a pull up bar. Beyond the glass wall of the gym, a figure strode towards the door. He did a bit of a double take when he realized who it was. Ms. Diya, the World History teacher, dressed in running shorts and a running bra.

The first thing that Jordan thought was that seeing a teacher dressed that way was somehow indecent. The second thing he thought was that he didn't give a shit. Kali Diya was in her mid-40s, and was built like a

jaguar

. Hard muscles laid beneath dark, taut skin. Her smooth, shoulder length hair curled slightly at the ends, forming a perfect frame for her exotic face. She stood a head taller than Jordan, who was a respectable 5'11" himself.

Jordan suddenly wondered how he never noticed the woman's beauty. She practically screamed sex!

He averted his eyes, realizing he was staring. The door swung open, the cool evening air filling the room. "Hello," Jordan croaked, before saying it again clearly.

"Good evening Jordan. I'm didn't expect to see you here, given the time," she replied. Her tone was always strong, with a feeling of take-charge to it. Not gruff, quite the opposite! It was smooth, rich, like strong coffee. But it nevertheless had the authority of someone who knew how to command.

"Yeah, my dad's going to pick me up at 6. We were going to have a meeting today for student council, but Mr. Hart wasn't there," he said, somewhat breathless afterwards.

"Hmm. That surprises me, because it's 6:15 now, and the parking lot is empty," she replied, a thin eyebrow raised in interest.

Jordan's eyes widened slightly, and he pulled his phone out. A message from his father was on the top of his alerts list:

New Message :

Hey bud, work's running late. Probably won't be there at 6, not sure how long it's gonna take. We can get pizza out, if that's alright with you? -

Reply/Ignore

Jordan tried to smile as he faced the woman. His nose twitched as her scent met him. Strong, musky, powerful, but not unpleasant, despite the fact the woman had obviously been exercising recently. "Yeah, turns out he's running late. Guess I'll just wait for him outside."

He started to stand before she said, "No need, it's rather cold out. Just stay in here until your father comes to get you."

And that was that. Jordan knew instinctively that that was the best choice and the only one he had. He wasn't sure if that really meant anything, but some part of him knew it did.

"So, you run a lot?" he asked tentatively, trying to start some small talk. She turned away, picking up a pair of dumb bells nearly twice as heavy as the one's he'd used.

"Yes, it's one of my favorite past times," she began, curling the weight with ease, "I try to run five or six miles every day if I have the time, longer when I can."

Jordan nodded. "I love swimming. I'm trying to start a swim team for the school, but they disbanded the last team a few years back and don't want to divert funds from the soccer team." He felt a bit more comfortable talking about the subject, but he's normally confident manner seemed to have deserted him as soon as Ms. Diya had entered the room.

"That's a shame," she said, frowning. "I always enjoyed swimming when I was in high school. I was the captain, actually. Won a few tournaments."

Jordan smiled for real. "Really! I never knew you liked to swim, Ms. Diya. Were you here when the old team was active?" Jordan asked. He noticed she had passed him in repetitions with the dumb bells.

"No, I think they were disbanded the year before I came here," she responded, moving onto the elliptical. She keyed in a routine, and began moving, a bit faster than Jordan remembered doing himself.

Jordan tried to think of something else to say. He watched her work for a bit, pretending to read his phone. Despite the duration and intensity of her exercise, she showed no signs of fatigue. She wasn't even breathing harder.

"Where did you teach before coming here?" he asked.

"Oh, I didn't teach before this. I was an athlete in Uganda before moving to Germany to study History," she responded.

"Wow," Jordan said, impressed. "You really got around."

She smiled to herself, her eyes staring beyond the glass wall. "I have many friends. People are quite willing to help each other, you know."

He nodded, though she wasn't looking. He flipped through a number of social media sites, reading messages from friends and tidbits of news from around the world. What his real focus was, however, was the Amazon in the room with him.

"I see you forgot to reset the machines, Mr. Scott," she said curtly, glancing at him.

"Ah, my bad," he said embarrassedly. "I'll fix them now," he continued, standing.

"No need," she said quickly. "I'm still going to use them; there's no point of doing it now.

As he watched, she added half again the number of weights on the bench press, followed by nearly twice the number of reps he'd done. Again, with the grips and pulleys, and

again

, with the pull-down machine. Jordan realized that her nipples had become hard under her sports bra, and he started to wonder if she was getting a thrill out of showing him up.

She finished with 23 pull ups, before finally taking a break. Her toned abs shone under the artificial light as she squatted down, choosing to not sit on the bench a foot away from her. Jordan peeked at his neglected phone, feeling quite emasculated. Another note from his father said that he was still in a meeting. He decided it would good to shower at the school to save time when he got home, rather than to continue to sit and ogle at the beauty in front of him. It was a tough choice, but he still wanted to get a decent nights sleep.

"Well, uh, it was good talking to you Ms. Diya. Have a good evening," he said, turning to the door.

Her lips turned upwards in a slight smile. "I plan to. And you can call me Kali; I'm not your teacher anymore."

Jordan nodded, unsure how to respond.

The confused male found himself in the locker room again. None of his friends would believe his story, and, frankly, he didn't particularly feel like sharing it. He certainly wouldn't be looking at Ms. Diya in the same way again. He felt like he'd had a blindfold lifted from him, like he'd found truth and his place in the world.

Jordan stripped, folding his clothes in a pile next to his backpack. He felt his feet against the cool tiled surface of the shower room, and did a once around of the long room. It was very open, not very big on privacy. They used to have some plastic curtains, but they had gotten old and stained, and were being replaced. He turned the knob of the shower, ducking out quickly to get away from the blast of cold water. It took a few minutes for the water to heat up, as he knew from hearsay.

He stood in the room almost nude, a towel wrapped around his waist as he thumbed through some humorous pictures online. After a bit, he hung the towel on a small hook next to the small wall next to the "stall." A few basic, plastic pumps with hand-made labels filled the inset shelf. Each stall had its own, and a shared drain in the middle of the room seemed to poke fun at how little privacy the room had.

As he wet his hair, he heard motion in the locker room. Alarmed, he stuck his head out to peer through the opening between the locker and shower room. A bolt of shock ran through his entire body, and his heart seemed to freeze and fall down somewhere in his stomach simultaneously.

Calmly pulling a fresh towel off the pile, was a very, very naked Ms. Diya. Every bountiful curve and lurid detail was fully visible to Jordan's gaze. His earlier suspicion was confirmed: her large, puffy nipples were strained at attention. Even out of the confines of their bra, Kali's full breasts barely sagged form their weight. Her abundant hips were firm, and gave off every animal

"Fertile!"

alert in Jordan's mind.

She turned, eyes locked with his as she confidently presented herself. She walked with intent, command of her body and surroundings evident.

As she approached, Jordan pulled back into his stall. He stood there, conflicted. Realization had seized his mind: every moment in that gym had been a message to him: "I am stronger than you. I am faster than you. I am better than you. If I want, I can kill you. I can rape you. I can take you as a lover anytime I please."

He couldn't run. There were no cameras in the locker room, and he would have no proof that she'd ever done anything. Jordan steeled himself. As the hot water rained against his body, he turned. He tried to hide his semi-erect manhood, his body mixed with fear and excitement.

He saw her enter the room, not looking towards his stall. She stood directly across the room, her feet in the small pool of water that filled the room. She turned the handle, using her hand to test the temperature of the water. She stepped in, and he turned away.

The image of her body was seared into his mind. Her confident pose, exotic, full lips pursed as she waited. Her hand on her hip, cocked to the side as she stood there. She had no care, no insecurity that he was there. Her trimmed bush, her luxurious ass and smooth back. Sable skin, with droplets of sweat running down its surface as he gazed through the steamy air of the shower room.

"The women's shower room is still closed off, Jordan, to answer your question," she teased, though he hadn't said anything. Her voice was perfectly normal. As if the two of them, twenty years and six meters apart weren't stark naked and painfully aroused.

Jordan sneaked a glance. Her side was to him, giving him a profile of her nubile figure. The water ran down her skin like glass as she covered her hands and arms in soap. Jordan thought to himself that even though the downstairs shower room might be unavailable, the one in the main building was

not

.

Jordan tried to take a deep breath as quietly as possible, trying to calm himself. He poured some soap into his own hands, scrubbing himself down as nonchalantly as possible. As he cleaned himself, he heard a change in the sound of Kali's shower water. It was now clearly hitting the hard tile surface, instead of running along her soft skin to the hard floor.

He turned, coming face to face with her. Her legs were crossed, and she was leaning to one side. Her arms were propping her up between the two shallow walls, blocking his escape.

"Jordan, you're taking up all the hot water," she said coolly, a hint of a coy smile on her face.

"I... I, uh, I'll get out, then. Sorry to inconvenience you, I was, uh, I was almost done anyway," he stammered, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. He could see pleasure in those eyes, satisfaction and anticipation. He felt like a gazelle, skittering away from the hunting tiger who'd cornered it.

"No need for that," she said. She placed a hand on his collarbone, gently pushing him into the stall. "Keep showering, don't hurry yourself," she said silkily, temptation in her voice. "I think we can share the water just fine." She moved to one side, giving him an exit.

Jordan's face was flushed and his heart seemed to stutter. He offered no response, and she expected none. He could feel her heat, even more so than the warm water that splashed off the walls and between their slick bodies. Ms. Diya pumped some of his shampoo and lathered her hair with it, soaking it with suds and massaging her scalp.

Jordan was practically motionless, watching as she contentedly cleaned her jet-black body. His face was often inches from hers or her bosom. She felt like an absolute furnace; the air began to feel cold compared to Kali's body. Their bodies touched repeatedly, hands brushing and nudging. She grazed his penis multiple times, always summoning a surge of blood to its tip. Her eyes were either closed, locked with his, or unabashedly roaming across his own body as if, no,

because

it was her property now.

After an eternity, he knew there was no part of her left unwashed. He glanced at the open exit to the room. She'd given him that chance to run earlier, though he bet it was to thrill herself with the idea of power she held over him. Perhaps she was taunting him like a cat with its prey.

"Jordan," she purred. "I still feel very dirty," she said oily. He turned to her again, confused. She leaned against the shower wall, raising a lithe leg up to his chest height. He timidly pushed a dollop of soap into his palm and clasped his hands around her foot. The sole of her foot was a lighter brown compared to the rest of her body, each toe capped with an immaculately kept nail. No polish, artificial nails, or coloring tarnished the natural beauty of her foot. His eyes flickered across her face. Despite washing for so long, her face remained just as beautiful as before. She didn't hide her perfection with a mask of make-up like any fake girl in his school. She walked with pride, wore her colors unashamed, took what she want and knew that she was right.

He rubbed her foot carefully, pressing his palm against her heel, rotating, and pushing up and over her toes. He grasped her ankle, turned his hand to wrap around the side of her foot, and pulled back over her toes again, his fingers pushing between her toes and splaying them wide. Her normally calm demeanor shook slightly, her chest quivering for a moment as he worked. He used both hands, pressing his thumbs against the ball of her foot and massaging the pliant skin. He felt the muscle underneath, mapping out the surface of Ms. Diya's foot. He cupped her heel with his hand, using his fingers and thumb to loosen her ankle. He cleaned each toe carefully, focusing completely at the task in front of him. His member was bulging with anticipation, and his legs occasionally shook.

"Jordan," she cooed, "they're still not clean."

He pulled the shower head off of its rest and rinsed the soap off. Carefully realigning the head, he lifted her leg up with his hands. Leaning forward, he took her big toe into his mouth.

It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He could feel every minute detail of the digit with his mouth, like a child exploring a toy. Without hesitation, he traced a circle, circumnavigating the toe with his tongue, wetting it with saliva. With care thrown to the wind, he sucked on the toe, pulling off of it with a

pop!

He went on to each smaller toe, fondling and sucking each with his tongue. He could feel the smooth nail and soft skin with the upper lip, and the water-soaked pad with his lower lip. His head bobbed, fellating each toe and worshiping Kali's foot. He ran his mouth along the side, and kissed the top of her foot.

"Again," she whispered, lifting the other foot, and he complied. Folding down four toes and suckling one, he took his time, savoring the flavor of her skin.

"Much better," she said gently. "Now," she commanded, "my hands."

He took her hands in his own, wrapping around them and massaging the back. Their eyes met, and he saw the fires of lust in her pupils. He focused on her right hand, rolling his fingers around hers, rubbing and massaging each segment of each digit. He kneaded at her palms and rists, soap running between them. Then, he took each finger into his mouth, blowing it, flicking at it with his tongue, nibbling at the nail.

"My ass," she husked, turning around. He kneeled, taking each plump cheek in his hands. He dug into the flesh, hearing the slightest of whimpers. He lifted them, pressed and manipulated the ebony flesh. He leaned forward, her musky scent fillin his nose. He pressed his face into her skin, the water running down her back and into his matted hair. He opened his mouth, running his tongue along the surface of her rear. He would "kiss" them each time, pulling his tongue in and rubbing against the skin with his lips as he closed his mouth.

"Deeper," she gaspsed.

He hesitated for once.

"Now!" she said, more firmly.

He pushed each cheek aside, exposing her red rose. He nuzzled it, sucking at it and running around the rim with his tongue.

Her breaths seemed to plead with him, and he could see and feel her hand rubbing on the other side of her hips.

His tongue darted forward, piercing her. No foul flavor met him, and he gained the strength to do it again. This time, he didn't pull back, leaving the tip of his tongue inside her asshole. He pressed his face forward, his tongue almost entirely inside her. He flicked it wildly, swirling and licking inside of her.

He felt a hand against the back of his head, pressing him against her bottom. His tongue pushed yet deeper, his ears blocked off by her hips and silence filling his head. He tried to resist, but her strength was far greater than his. He resigned, continuing his ministrations inside her anus. Seconds ticked by, and Jordan's eyes began to water. His body ached, his lungs empty, his head spinning, his dick spurting onto the shower floor, his tongue in heaven as it tasted of this woman's perfect body.