A Surprise in the Principal's

"God, you're so fucking tight and wet for me... I want to feel your sweet pussy milk my cock of every last drop. Cum for me!" Mr. Taylor growled possessively into my ear. I was so close already, but I came violently when he grew impatient and jerked my head back by my hair at the roots and nipped me sharply under my ear. I bit down harshly into his shoulder as I came, my body pulsing in the sweet aftershocks. He followed soon after, grunting my name in absolute satisfaction, his eyes screwed shut and his neck twisted back. His lips were parted, hissing air through his teeth as my eyes hungrily drank in the sight.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world, Mr. Taylor in complete ecstasy. He stayed inside of me for a few more minutes as we slowly caught our breath. I hadn't realized that my hands were gripping his back so hard until I flexed them against him. My hands slid from his shoulder blades and he hissed. I looked up at him questioningly and he chuckled darkly.

"You left a mark, my love..." he whispered, quirking his lips into a sexy half grin. My eyes widened as I realized what he meant and I smiled sheepishly at him. I guess my nails were sharper than I had expected... I had scratched his back as he rode me. Our breathing having finally slowed, he stood up fully and slid out of me. Feeling him move inside of me once more, even just to leave me, felt so divine that I gasped then blushed, looking away, trying to fight down my desire for him.

He took his time getting dressed, moving around his office to get his clothes while I watched, envious of his apparent ease of being stark naked. I wanted to be that confident, that comfortable, but as I sat up slowly on his desk, my limbs protesting with every movement, I had already crossed my legs and my arms over my chest to give myself a little modesty in my nudity.

When I looked up finally, I was sad to see that he had already found his trousers and had them on, his belt buckled firmly around his waist; he was putting his dress shirt back on. It wasn't fair; a body that perfect deserved to be on display.

He was Michael Angelou's David. He was the epitome of masculine perfection. He was flawless in my eyes. I felt distinctly feminine and frail as I watched him button up his shirt and adjust his collar over his broad shoulders. His gaze finally met mine and a half smile that I had come to recognize as his signature quirked up the side of his mouth.

"Are you alright, young Becca?" he asked in a low voice that was lit with suppressed humor. I nodded and blushed brightly as I tried to stand up, but my limbs were not cooperating. They felt boneless and thoroughly spent. He chuckled and pulled me up so I could stand shakily on my heals. I looked around for my clothes, sharply aware that the only things I was wearing at that moment in front of him were my bright blush, my skirt, my stockings, and my stilettos.

Had that really happened?

He just watched me, his eyes dark and his lips quirked up in a smirk. I blushed again, my face completely red as I remembered just where, exactly, those lips had been on my body just a few moments before...

Yes, it had...

Holy shit.

Finally he relented and found my clothing for me, slowly handing me each piece at a time. I slipped on my bra and clasped it, adjusting the cups around my breasts for support as was part of my routine. I heard a sharp hiss and glanced up, startled. His eyes were glued to my chest and were filled with lust; his hands were gripping the desk tightly, his lips drawn tightly together.

"Hurry up before I take you again..." he whispered huskily. I quickly turned around and buttoned my shirt, tucking it into my skirt and running my hands through my hair to finger comb it the best I could. I had lost my elastic in our passion... but I felt like something else, something more important was missing...

When I turned back around I instantly knew what it was. He had my panties in his hand, inhaling the scent, biting his lip to keep from groaning. I don't think I could have blushed brighter than at that moment. I was mortified... I watched, shocked, as he pocketed my panties. I went to protest incredulously, but he pressed a perfectly slender and long finger to my lips, whispering, "Shh..." and pulled my chin up to face him. I looked up into his eyes which were light once more.

"You are exquisite," he purred, then pulled me towards him and gently pressed his lips to mine. All thoughts of my stolen panties fled my mind as I took in the fact that this man, this god, was kissing me.

Me.

I was astonished to realize that I had done so much this morning with him but hadn't actually kissed him. That wasn't how it was supposed to go... Nevertheless, this kiss was surprisingly gentle compared to our earlier actions. He gently moved his lips against mine, angling his head to gain better access. I felt his tongue softly slide over the seam of my lips, asking rather than demanding permission to enter my mouth. I hummed in pleasure as his tongue finally massaged mine. Our tongues danced passionately as I felt tingles ripple down my body.

I was drunk on pleasure.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and stepped closer to him. He chuckled and finally pulled away, pecking me firmly on the lips one, two, three times, then stepping back, his hands sliding down my arms to twine his fingers in mine. He was staring into my eyes, his full lips lit in an actual smile, not a smirk. It was a beautiful sight. I felt my lips pull into a pout... I loved that kiss, and it felt right that my first kiss was to be with him. I didn't want to stop..

"So sweet... so innocent..." he murmured before leaning down and kissing me gently but firmly again. I felt his hands tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck and caress the side of my face as I sighed in absolute pleasure. He eventually slowed then stopped, pecking me just one more time on the lips for good measure. He looked into my eyes again and finally said the most beautiful sentence in the world..

"Happy 18th birthday, my sweet little Becca..."