Last Lesson Ch. 01

She'd come before, of course. Usually alone in her bed, fingers twisting, or in the shower, the shower nozzle locked between her thighs. Once, rocking against Brian's leg in the back of his car, she'd come so very close…and then he'd shifted away, and it had all been lost. But this, this insistent, slow building was something new. Kyle's control was like iron, patient, terrible iron that she flung herself against, gasping. She heard her voice, pleading.

"Please. Oh, god. Please."

"Not yet." He pushed her down onto the desk, one hand between her breasts, and held her there. The other hand went down her stomach, and his thumb pressed gently down on her clit.

Felicia rose up off the desk, straining, gasping for air, and he drove her back down again with both hands.

"Stay," he said reprovingly, and carried on fucking her, that thumb rubbing gently in small circles in time with his thrusts.

She was going to come. She was going to come like an express train, she could feel it racing toward her, building low in her belly, hot waves rippling out to all her extremities. She could hardly see.

His thumb abruptly ceased circling, and pushed firmly downward, driving her clit into her pubic bone, grinding and shoving.

She came so hard she couldn't even make a sound, her mouth stretched silently, her hands clutching the desk, her spine bowing, her whole body vibrating like a struck harp string, red and black explosions behind her eyelids. It went on forever. It was over in a minute. When at last she collapsed again to the desk, she felt filled with white noise, loose and light as a feather, every limb trembling gently.

Kyle had ceased to thrust. He bent over her, hands on either side of her shoulders, looking at her. She felt like she should be embarrassed, but she felt far too glorious.

"Beautiful," he said. "That was beautiful."

She blushed like a sunset. "Oh, my god," she said.

"I'm going to make you do that again," he told her.

"Oh, my god," said Felicia.

He took her right leg, lifted it, leaned back, and turned her over. Her breasts pressed nakedly into the wood of his desk. She could smell her sweat on the surface, could feel it slick beneath her.

"You have a beautiful ass," said Kyle, caressing that portion of her anatomy. He started to fuck her again, slowly. "You have this pair of jeans – they're kind of faded, with one pocket half off – and they fit your ass so perfectly, it's like they cup it, it's like they love it. When you wore those to class, I couldn't even look at you, you were so gorgeous. I'd have to spend fifteen minutes waiting for my erection to go down after class was over. And now…" He ran his hands over her again, and he began to speed up. "And now," his voice went lower, "now it's right here, in front of me. Your beautiful, rounded, ass."

His fingers bit into her, and she gasped, her fingers curling. She was starting to warm up again, her much-abused clitoris twitching.

He thrust harder now, lifting her hips up to meet him. He was going deep, she could feel him right up to the very end of her cunt, and it hurt, but it hurt in a good way. She gasped again as he tilted her pelvis and went even deeper. She clawed at the desk.

He pulled back, bent over her. "Is it good?" he whispered. "Is that okay?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes."

"You like it," he said, his mouth right next her ear. "You like that it hurts a little, is that how it is, Felicia?"

"Yes," she said. She didn't seem capable of saying anything else.

He bit gently at her ear. "I can hurt you, if that's what you want. A little, or a lot. It's up to you."

She felt dizzy, she was so turned on. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. "Yes," she said.

"Okay," he said. "Okay." His weight left her back, and then he started to fuck her again, dragging her back against him, forcing her ass in the air. She went up on her tiptoes, and he put one hand on the back on her neck and the other on her left breast and began twisting the nipple.

Deep. He was deep. Her face was pressed sideways against the desk, his hand gripping the nape of her neck heavily. His fingers pinched her nipple cruelly. He was gasping now as well, and the force of his thrusts were driving the desk across the floor. He staggered, swore, and then pulled out. She whimpered in protest. He pulled her off the desk and pushed her against the wall, facing him.

He kissed her again, teeth and tongues clashing, and took her left leg under the knee and lifted it. His thrust drove her against the wall. He'd gathered her hands together in one of his, and now he pulled them above her head, pinning them there. His breath steepened, she could feel him near the brink, and it was driving her crazy. She strained, trying to get more of him, trying to get back to that shining edge.

"Please, please, please," she whispered frantically.

He turned his head into the side of her neck and bit her, hard, beneath the ear. She came again, again, whimpering, pulling desperately at her arms until he let her go. She wrapped herself around him like a vine as her orgasm subsided, her body rocking with his thrusting.

She kissed his neck, his ear, his temple, let her hands slip down to his ass and feel the clenching muscles there. His breath was ragged. She felt possessive all of a sudden.

"Kyle," she whispered, saying his name for the first time. "Kyle."

At the sound of his name, he shuddered, put his mouth against her neck to smother a moan, and came.

He collapsed forward against her, his forehead on her shoulder. They were both breathing heavily, both covered in sweat. Felicia became aware of her dress crumpled uncomfortably around her waist, of his pants tangling at their feet. Her panties were draped on the ledge of the chalkboard. The contents of his desktop were sprayed halfway across the floor.

"Oh my god," he said suddenly. "We didn't use a condom."

She patted his shoulder. "I'm on the pill," she said.

"Jesus," he said. "What a thing to forget."

"It's okay – " Felicia began.

"It was stupid," he said, and then pulled away from her. He backed away and half tripped over his pants. He bent to pull them up, and Felicia, suddenly embarrassed, tugged urgently at her dress, trying to realign it. Her bra had disappeared somewhere, and her panties, when she retrieved them, were no more than rags. They sufficed, however, to catch the seepage between her legs. Another reason to remember the condom, she thought, partially horrified, and partially amused.

There was traces of blood on the cloth when she inspected it. Oh. Right. Her virginity.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She looked at him.

His face had closed down completely. He looked – angry, and ashamed.

"Don't worry about it," she said quickly, flippantly. She felt suddenly sick. "I won't tell."

"Felicia…"

"It was my fault, anyway," she went on. "I kissed you. I'm the one who should be sorry." She turned away, tears spangling her vision. What had she thought would happen? He was an adult, he was a teacher, and she was just a stupid kid. "It was just sex," she said.

"Stop that," he said, and grabbed her arm. "Oh, jesus christ, look at you."

"What?" she said, wiping at her face. All the sweating and now tears – her face must be a Picasso painting by now.

He touched her neck gently, where he'd bit her at the end.

She winced a little and drew away and then put her own hand to it. It was going to be the mother of all hickeys, she could tell. A clump of hair fell down from her destroyed up-do.

"Oh my god, I'm a wreck," she said, trying to pull away from him.

"You aren't," he said. "You look – ravished." His voice had gone low and intimate again.

"Are you really sorry?" she asked. She wanted to take back the words as soon as they were out. This could ruin his career, send him to jail, of course he –

"Oh, hell. I should be," he said. "But I'm not."

"Oh," she said.

"Listen," he said. "You graduated today. Technically, there isn't any reason why we can't – why we shouldn't…"

"What?" she said. "Date?"

He looked at her for a moment, and then his face shut up tight again.

"No. It's stupid," he said, shaking his head and stepping away. The light from the windows played over his naked torso, still shiny with his sweat. "You're going to college, you're going to meet a hundred boys there who will fall head over heels for you, be young with you, do all the things you're supposed to do when you're 18 and away from home the first time."

"There's the summer," she offered. Her heart was leaping in her chest as hard as when she'd leaned in to kiss him that first time.

He shook his head. "I can't – I don't want just the summer. I don't think I could do that, wave goodbye to you and know that you – no. No."

"Well, I see that you have it all worked out." She bit the inside of her cheek savagely to keep from crying again. Her throat was aching. "So, uh, thanks for the memories, I guess?" Her lips quivered. "It was really special."

She shoved the remnants of her underwear into her tiny purse, and headed for the door. He could clean up the mess. Or not. She didn't give a fuck either way. There was the fire door with the broken alarm down by the science labs. It was the stoner's usual hangout, but since they were in the bathroom tonight, maybe she had a chance at getting away without anyone seeing her. Thank god I brought my own car, she thought.

"Wait. Wait!" He grabbed her arm again as she was reaching for the door handle.

"What?" she said furiously. She was crying for real now, she couldn't help it. She couldn't look at him. And she'd thought that being dumped by Brian had been humiliating. "What do you want? Di-didn't you get e-everything already?"

"Oh, shit," he said, and then he kissed her.

She was drowning, she could taste her tears on his mouth, his chest bare and slick beneath her hands. The smell of him filled the universe.

He broke the kiss, and leaned his forehead against hers. "You win," he said. "For the summer, for a month, for a goddamn hour… I want you."

She closed her eyes. "Okay," she said.

"I'm going to take you home," he said.

"Oh," she said.

"My home," he clarified.

"Oh," she said, happy. "You should probably put your shirt on then."

"Shit," he said, and she giggled madly.

He collected his undershirt and then his shirt, cursing again at the three missing buttons on it. He stuck his head out into the hall, looked both ways, and then pulled her out.

"Wait, what about the – " she waved her hand back at the scattered papers and sundry other desk debris.

"Hell with that," he said. "Let them assume a couple of kids broke in and trashed the place." He shut the door without locking it, and they hurried down the hall together.

The fire exit was deserted. They made it to his car without seeing anyone other than a couple of tux-suited kids smoking across the parking lot, their backs to the school.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kyle asked her as he started the engine. "You could go back, enjoy the rest of prom…"

"No," she said. She looked at him and smiled. "I think I'm done with that now."

Fin.