Doggy. I had settled on doggy. Granted, I went about my homework in the nerdiest way possible; looking up positions and the various sensations they supposedly focused on, conducting what was likely the most bland and clinical observation of sexual positions ever imagined. My motivation was pure though; in that I wanted to make sure I picked a position that Mr. Poln would not only enjoy, but one that I would find memorable.
It was just one night ago that my history teacher, after taking my virginity on top of his desk in his classroom, had given me the homework assignment of picking what position he would take me next. It had been a gentle demand, like most of Mr. Poln's orders, but laying underneath the seemingly simple request there were layers upon layers of deeper meaning. Choosing a position was a difficult task for a young woman that wasn't terribly experienced; even if she was eighteen. I was still quite naive, and hadn't experienced anything even remotely sexual that wasn't with my forty-something year old teacher. If Mr. Poln was expecting something new and exciting that young people were doing these days he'd be sorely disappointed, but then, I think by that point he had a pretty clear idea of the type of girl he was playing with.
I was up late that night, pouring through information on the Internet, trying to get to the bare basics of sexual positions without being swarmed by pornography. I didn't want stimulating images, I wanted cold, hard facts! The average depth a man can get in one position versus the other, how much leverage he has for an expected thrusting force, testimonials about the female orgasm in comparison to the different positions! I knew that I was absolutely not prepared to try being on top just yet; despite Mr. Poln's clear attraction to me the teenage doubt of my own appearance was still very much present in my young mind. If I was going to choose a position with Mr. Poln, it wouldn't be one where I was necessarily on display, and it certainly wouldn't be one that put me in a position of being the aggressor. And so, as I looked through them all, I ruled them out one by one for various reasons. For the unwanted authority they would lend to me, for the physical limitations of a middle aged teacher and a teenage girl that wasn't particularly athletic, or simply because they didn't arouse me as I read them over at two in the morning, sitting there in my pajamas.
My parents believed in an early bedtime, and by that point they had already been asleep for four hours, distantly down the hall. The house was kept bathed in darkness, save for the dim glow of my monitor, which I knew from experience my parents could see unless I took the precaution of lining the bottom of my closed door with laundry to hide it. The house was still and silent, save only for the creak of it settling, the gentle tapping of my keyboard, and of course...the occasional, aroused whimper as I idly toyed with myself.
My hand was down the front of my long pajama bottoms, fingers and palm curled under the waistband of my panties. I had been toying with myself for the past hour, keeping my arousal on the very edge, and keeping my fingers quite wet and delightfully coated in my nectar. Since my experiences with Mr. Poln began I had been slowly waking up to my sexuality, and masturbation had slipped into my mind much more frequently lately in the still of night when I was alone to let my imagination wonder. As I hooked a single finger into my pussy and gave myself an unfulfilling, but certainly teasing prod, my mind was spinning with the possibilities of what Mr. Poln and I did together. In the past week I had sucked his cock so often that I could still remember the feel of it in my mouth, and how my tongue would dance on the underside of it, making him squirm and throb against my lips. There in my bedroom, my tongue didn't pass by anything more exciting than the metal frame of my braces, but my imagination was livid enough to conjure the sensation of my teacher taking me again. I could almost feel his encouraging hand at the back of my head, or the press of my nose into his lap in the rare instances in which he'd force me into deepthroating him. I started to rock back and forth on my chair, my fingers becoming more eager the more I pondered it.
And the positions, oh the positions, each one was a wonderful thing for me to imagine. Even if they weren't the position of choice for the next time I was with my teacher, I could still enjoy imagining what it would be like to be claimed in them. My head danced with thoughts of me riding Mr. Poln, confident as any beautiful woman could be, thrusting my lap into his own and making him fuck me, and not the other way around. I envisioned him taking me missionary style again, but with both my legs looped around one of his shoulders, letting him have at me with a deeper, more passionate ferocity. Then I thought about him claiming me doggy style, and I knew that would certainly be my choice for the next evening.
Something about it made me melt, and I could feel the fingers inside my sex speeding up, coaxing me into even greater heights of pleasure. My eyes were dimly focused on simple line drawings of the position, but in my head all I could see was myself, on hands and knees, being fucked by my teacher on the floor of his classroom. The tile of his floor hurt my knees; I knew that much from all the blowjobs I had given him, but somehow it was even more exciting knowing I'd be completely doubled over, offering myself to my teacher like the animal the position was so named for. There was something ultimately submissive about it, like uttering "this hole belongs to you," without ever needing to speak a word. I would kneel there, and I would be fucked by my teacher until he was finished, and then-
The idea of him cumming inside me flitted into my mind, and at the thought of it I gave a sharp little cry into the darkness of my bedroom. The sudden thrill of it made my walls tense around my fingers, and goosebumps rise on almost every part of me. Just a few hours ago, Mr. Poln had pulled out at the last minute, and showered me with his cum across my pussy, my stomach, even up to my face. At the time I was thankful for it, afraid to get pregnant as every virgin girl is, but in the heat of that moment there in my bedroom...well, my mind spun with possibilities. There had been so very much cum that shot across me hours ago, what if he had instead shot it all...inside of me?
My sex tightened and I hunched forward, bracing an arm against the desk as my other hand started to work faster. I was close now, picturing what it would feel like to be fucked and taken by Mr. Poln, and imagining what it'd be like to be filled with his cream. I had no frame of reference, but I imagined it to be warm and delightful, like a sweet coating for the inside of my sex. My eyes blearily looked at the simple line drawings of people doing doggy style, as if the research was still continuing, but by that point my mind had been lost.
I brought myself to a peak while pretending Mr. Poln was fucking me, cumming inside of me, and then rolling me to the side to let it slowly leak out of my used, and well-claimed sex.
Once I caught my breath, the diligent student recovered, and I almost immediately began to look up information on birth control pills.
If looking up positions was homework for the first day, I considered researching the pill to be working ahead. After all, it might be part of a future lesson.
The next day I met up with Mr. Poln just as I had planned, eagerly counting down the hours until after class. I had been shifting in my seat throughout the entire day, constantly fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, and letting my tongue dance over the front of my braces on so many different occasions. I had been sexually awakened, and was eager for more of it, even if it came from the stiff member of my older history teacher. I wasn't shyly afraid of his cock anymore; I craved it. The sensations it gave me the previous day spun through my mind almost nonstop, and I spent the entire day in class moist underneath my panties, always just at the very edge of immeasurable arousal. I practically skipped to his classroom after the final bell rang, my throat tight from nervousness, but my insides warm and excited.
