Teaching Willow: Session Three (4 page)

I back up to the desk until I can feel it brush the backs of my legs.  My every nerve is alive and hypersensitive, anxiously awaiting more stimulation.  “Come here,” I say quietly, enjoying the friction of my pants against the engorged head of my cock. 

Willow walks slowly toward me then stops about a foot away.  I reach for her shoulders, turning her away from me to face out into the room.  I ease her back against my chest, leaning forward to speak into the shell of her ear as I point past her to the very back row.

“See that last row?  Third seat from the left?” I ask.  My lips graze her ear and, in the silence of the room, I hear her stilted gasp.  My dick throbs in response, in memory.  For a few seconds, I’m lost in another gasp, in another time when my shaft was this close to the rounded globes of her ass.  I suppress a groan of pure lust as I think about how that night turned out, about plunging into her so hard and so deep I nearly lost my mind.  That was little more than a week ago. 

“Yes,” she whispers.

“There’s a girl who sits there, a girl I’ve had on my mind for quite some time now.  I wrote a scene about her,” I explain with measured words.  I flick my tongue out to tease the lobe of her ear.  She shudders against me.  I gauge her every action, her every
re
action before I continue.  “I wrote about fucking her.”  In an infinitesimal shift, Willow arches against me.   “I wrote about it in graphic detail.  Sweet, wet, burning hot detail.”  I feel her rapid breathing as her back moves against my chest.  “It’s all about you, Willow.  All.  About.  You.” 

I feel her stiffen almost imperceptibly and for the length of one long, deep inhalation, I question what I’m doing.  Not because I’m having second thoughts about finally taking Willow (and in my classroom, no less), but because I have to be absolutely sure that this is all what it seems to be, that she
has,
in fact, been masquerading as her sister.

But too soon, I realize that I’ve come too far to stop now.  I’m so close to getting what I want, I can’t go back. It’s too late to rethink anything.  I want her. I know she wants me.  This is going to happen, damn everything else.

I reach around Willow’s waist and flatten my palm against her stomach, pulling her back against me.  She fits me perfectly, just as I knew she would.  Just as she does when she calls herself Sage. 

Subtly, I shift against her ass as I scoot my hand under the edge of her shirt, skating up over her ribs to cup one plump breast.

“Do you want to hear about it?” I ask.

Again Willow makes no response, only nods.

“I wrote about walking up those steps and taking her by the hand,” I say as I rub her hard nipple.  I bring my other hand to her waist and unsnap her jeans.  I feel her stomach clench.  “I wrote about bringing her down to the front of the class and taking off all her clothes.”  Willow’s head lists to the left, as though she’s having trouble holding it up. Otherwise, she’s perfectly still.  “Can you imagine what it would feel like if this room was full and I stripped you right here in front of all those curious faces?  Would you like having all those eyes on you?”

Her breath is the only sound that breeches the stillness.  Quickly, I take the hem of her shirt and tug it up.  When my hands meet her elbows, I know that this will either be my consent to continue or my signal to stop.  Which will it be?

After a short pause, Willow lifts her arms and I pull the material over her head.  My heart is pounding and I have to force myself to slow down, to savor every second of this experience.  I could pay dearly for it.  I could’ve blamed Willow before, but this moment—tonight and what I’m about to do—changes everything.  Tonight, I
know. 
I know who I’m with.  It makes me culpable.  Complicit.  This could lead to the ruination of my career, of everything I’ve worked so hard for, and I’m walking right into it. Because of Willow.  To have her just once, just like I’ve wanted to.  To taste the forbidden fruit in all its glory.

I put my hand back on her warm stomach and whisper into her ear.  “Kick off your shoes.”

I feel the shift of her back side against me as she shoves at one heel with her toe and then reverses the action, divesting herself of her shoes.

Using only my fingertips and with the lightest touch I can manage, I ease her zipper down and then slide my thumbs into her waistband so that I can push the denim down her legs.  When her jeans are pooled around her ankles, she steps out of them without me having to ask.  Then, obediently, she resumes her position right in front of me. 

“Reach behind you, Willow,” I instruct.  “Reach between us and feel how hard I am.”

I grit my teeth when I feel her small hand settle on my crotch and search tentatively through my pants for my shaft.  Her fingers wrap around it for a fraction of a second before I grab her wrist to still her.  “That’s all for you.  I’m so hard I’m afraid I could hurt you.”  Even as I’m speaking the words, I hear a noise, a passionate noise bubble from Willow’s lips.  I put that together with the story that she wrote for me, one of domination and raw possession and I know…I know that she wouldn’t hate me if I did.  “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?  You’d like for me to hurt you just a little, wouldn’t you?”

I reach down between her legs and cup her.  Her panties are soaked and she squeezes her thighs around my fingers. 

“That’s what I thought,” I say with supreme satisfaction.  I knew there was something wicked buried in the innocent girl that has sat in my class all this time. I could feel it all the way down to my aching balls.

I straighten and move around to stand in front of her.  Control. I have to maintain control. 

I pause to look down into her face, into
Willow’s
face. The full weight of what’s happening staggers me.  I’m seeing
her
sparkling blue eyes staring at me from behind her glasses, seeing
her
lips trembling with need, looking at
her
scantily-clad body, bared for my eyes only. 

Fuckin’ A!
  I think when the sight threatens to steal my breath.  That’s why I don’t say anything. I just enjoy the moment, the feeling.

Finally, I take a step forward.  Naturally, she takes a step back, running into the desk. “Sit,” I command.  Without question, Willow perches on the edge of the desk.  “Have you thought about me doing things to you, Willow?”

In the glow of the red exit sign, I see her eyes widen a centimeter more before she nods hesitantly. 

“I know you have.  What you probably don’t know is that I’ve thought of doing things to you, too.”  Her panting increases, coming faster and faster, puffing against my cheek in warm, rhythmic bursts.  “Would you like to know what I’ve thought about?  What I’ve written about you?”

Willow licks her lips causing them to glisten like ripe cherries in the ruby glow of the only light in the room.

Without waiting for a response (because I already know the answer), I put enough distance between us that I can reach between our bodies and unclasp her bra then pull it from her shoulders.

“From the beginning of time, prose was written about these breasts,” I say, testing the globes with my palms.  “Mine is no different.  My mouth waters thinking of how many times I’ve wanted to strip off your tee shirt, tear off your bra and take them in my hands.  To watch the nipples harden when I touch you.”  I knead her tits, her nipples puckering for me like they were just waiting for me to pause in my speech.  “No man could resist tasting them, pulling one into his mouth and sucking it so hard you nearly explode right inside your panties.”

I bend my head and tongue one of her nipples, sucking it and biting it lightly while my fingers twist and pinch the other one.  I hear her little mewl of pleasure. It’s a sound I’ve become all too familiar with.   I know everything she likes.  She just doesn’t know that I know Willow likes it, too.

I raise my head to look at her as I punish her nipples with my fingers, tweaking and pulling them until her mouth drops open.  “I wish this room was full, full of every guy that has looked at you and wanted to come inside you.  Full of every man that you’ve dated and let touch you.  I want them to watch me bare every inch of your skin. I want them to watch me kiss and lick and bite and suck you until you’re marked. Marked by me. 
For me. 
I want them to know that you will always be mine.  Some part of you will Always. Be. Mine.  You know it. I know it.  And they would know it.”

Those words, just saying them aloud, makes me feel violently possessive of her. 

With one hand to the center of her chest, I push until she’s lying flat on her back, stretched out in front of me on the desk like a beautiful buffet. 

I reach for the elastic of her panties, pulling them from her hips and dragging them down her legs.  I kneel before her and roughly spread her legs.  “This pussy, this beautiful, pink, wet pussy is mine, Willow.  You’ve wanted me to have it since we met.  And I’ve wanted to take it for almost that long.  Tell me no one else can have it.  Tell me it’s mine.  All mine.”

I don’t hear her response.  The thought of anyone else touching her makes me crazy. I spread her smooth folds and I lean in to take her with my whole mouth. My lips, my tongue, my face, I devour her. I lick, I flick, I nibble, I suck every smooth centimeter of her moist flesh until her hips are writhing against me. 

Her legs tighten around me and I know she’s close.  Before she can come, I stand to my feet and drop my pants, sliding my hands under her hips to lift them toward me.  The sight of Willow, my Willow, looking up at me with nothing but desire and passion, spread naked on my desk in the very classroom that has tortured me for so long now, nearly causes me to explode before I can even get inside her.

She watches me closely, refusing to break eye contact.  She likes that. She likes to watch me when I slide my cock into her.

I reach between her legs, spreading the lips of her sweet pussy around the head of my shaft, and then I slam into her.  Without mercy, without finesse, without regard to anything but the utter, complete possession of her, I drive my body into hers.

Her reaction is instantaneous.

The ripples of her orgasm massage me from my position inside her.  Her mouth widens, her breathing stops and time is suspended for a few scant hearbeats.  Still, she watches me.  Still, I watch her.  

When she exhales a moan like it was torn from her lungs, I withdraw and rub my fingers over the base of my cock, wetting the tips before I move them over her clit.  When I find the top of the little muscle, I rub it as I thrust into her again.  She arches her back and her legs clench around me. 

“You like that, don’t you, Willow?  You like for me to play with your pussy while I fuck you, don’t you, baby?”

I tease her folds, tugging on them and rubbing between them as I pound my body into hers with slow, deep, hard strokes.  When her spasms begin to subside, I reach for her hands, pulling her up against my chest for one last thrust before I lift her off me and set her feet on the ground.

I kiss her, savoring the flavor of her lips and tongue before I turn her away from me and bend her over the desk.  With my knee, I urge her legs apart and I guide my cock back into her wet heat.  I grip her hips, holding her still and I thrust, sharp and deep.  I tear into her so fucking hard, she flows right into the cusp of her second orgasm, her walls starting to tighten around me like a hot, velvety fist.

Just before she explodes, I lick my finger and ease it into her ass, penetrating her in both openings until she moans so loudly she sounds like she’s choking.

“Say my name, Willow.  Say it.”

“Ebon,” she says, the two syllables rolling off her tongue on a grunt that makes my balls harden into rocks.  But she doesn’t stop there.  For Willow, the lines must be as blurred as they feel to me right now.  She says something that she has said to me many times as Sage.  “Please.  Please, Ebon, please.  Come in me. I want all of you.  Please, Ebon.  Give me all of you.”

Reaching down, I take one of Willow’s legs and I hike it up until her knee is on the desk, opening her up further for me.  I lean forward, pumping my finger in her ass and my cock in her pussy until her screams are nothing more than a backdrop to the buzzing in my head.  And I come.  My whole body stiffens when I shoot into her.  I arch my back and flex my hips until I’m as deep into her as I can go, until my balls go up inside her a little. 

“Holy fuck!” I groan, ramming into her one last time.

After a few seconds, when the world stops spinning, my head is so light that I have to bend over her and grab the desk. Finally my ears quit ringing. That’s when I hear the soft murmurings of Willow. 
Oh god, oh god, oh god.

I feel like grinning as I struggle to catch my breath, but I don’t.  My muscles are on limited duty at the moment. It’s all I can do to stay on my feet.  I’ve never gotten off so hard before.

Then again, I’ve never had sex with a student before.

SEVEN- WILLOW

I’m drifting, drifting in a kind of bliss that I never imagined I would find.  Even as Sage, wrapped in Ebon’s arms, it never felt like this.  Because it never felt real.

But this is real.

This is Ebon.  With me. With Willow.

And it is even more amazing that I could’ve hoped it would be.

Until a soft thump from the other side of the door causes me to jump in alarm.

Ebon stiffens behind me, but then holds perfectly still as we both listen.  A few seconds later, I hear a muted squeak, like the noise a tennis shoe might make on polished floors.  As feet scurry away.

A combination of fear and dread settle in my stomach.  I find myself holding my breath as I wait to see what Ebon will do, how he will react at the possibility that someone may have seen us.

Very slowly, very deliberately, Ebon eases completely out of me.  I feel the brush of his pants against my calves as he straightens his clothes.  Gently, he strokes his palm over my back side as he moves to put his body between me and the door.  “Get dressed,” he commands softly.  “We need to get out of here.”

It’s not lost on me that he’s shielding me from any prying eyes.  I know it’s probably silly, but it touches me more than he will ever know that he would make such a protective gesture when he stands to get into big trouble for this if we are have been discovered.

I say nothing of his kindness as, gingerly, I lever myself up off the desk, taking it slow since my boobs are stuck to the lacquered surface.  I don’t look down, but I have no doubt my skin shows the imprint of the wood grain.  It might be funny if I weren’t so nervous.  To have come all this way, spent all this time with Ebon and then to ruin his career this way…in such a careless, thoughtless act… Oh god! It’s unthinkable.

Ebon is facing away from the door. Unabashed, he watches me get dressed, his eyes roving over every inch of skin that I’m covering.  That fact that he’s not saying anything worries me.

As I’m pulling my hair free of the neck of my tee shirt, I have to speak to break the tension.  “You know, it’s so dark, I doubt anyone could tell who we are.  And if they came back by, they can’t see your face since your back is to the door.  There’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Ebon’s chin is tipped downward, leaving his eyes in shadow.  I can’t tell what he’s feeling by his expression either. It’s as dark and unknown to me as the person in the hall outside the door.

“Is that right?  Nothing to worry about when a teacher has sex with a student
in his classroom?”

“Other professors use this room,” I defend weakly.

Ebon surprises me by smiling.  “Consequences don’t bother you one bit, do they, Willow?”

While his smile is natural, something about his words, his tone triggers a red flag.

“Of course they do.”

Even in the dim light, I can see his jaw flexing and releasing, flexing and releasing.  He’s battling with something, and I feel like there’s much more to his words than I know.

“We should leave separately, just in case we run into anyone in the hall.  I’ll go first. I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”

I nod, blinking back unwanted tears.  Ebon turns and walks to the door, he pulls it open and pauses.  When he pivots to look back at me, my heart stops.  This moment is so poignant, holds so many meanings, both hidden and overt.

From across the room, we watch each other, neither saying a word.  Slowly, he releases the door, letting it close again and he strides back to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me like he’s as starved for me as I’ve always been for him.

“Damn you for forcing my hand, Willow. Or Sage. Or whoever the fuck you really are.  Damn you.”

His voice is so soft, it belies the edge of cold steel beneath his words.  They penetrate like a sword, sharp and cutting.  They pierce me through and through.

He knows.

Ebon knows what I’ve done.  And he hates me for it. Just like I knew he would.

“Ebon, I—” I begin, suddenly frantic.

He stills my lips by laying his finger across them, the tender gesture a paradox to the anger and disappointment in his eyes.  “Shhh.  There’s no need to explain. I get it.  I know all about wanting something so badly.  Unfortunately, lies aren’t the way to get what you want.  They only create more problems.  They hurt people.  And they get you into trouble.  I’ve had a lot of experience with lies.  They’re the one thing I can’t tolerate.”  With that Ebon brushes his lips over mine, a kiss that’s so bittersweet I feel it like sugary acid pouring through my heart.  “I’m sorry,” he whispers and then he turns and walks away.

********

The next week is a blur of shock, remorse and grief.  After watching Ebon walk away Monday night, I waited, tears streaming down my face, until he texted to tell me the coast was clear.  That was the last time I heard from him.  He wasn’t even in class Wednesday, which was the nail in the coffin for me. 

I wanted to call him so badly, but I dared not. I decided to wait, to give him some time to process and heal, hoping I’d do the same.  Only I’m not faring so well.  The familiar cold, black fingers of depression claw harder and harder at me as the days go by.

Sage hasn’t done much more than poke her head into my room over the last few days.  It’s as though she senses the darkness and instinctively flees it.

Aside from my one foray out to school on Wednesday and those weird peeps from Sage, I’ve been completely alone inside my torturous shell.  Here it is Monday again and I’m no closer to feeling like leaving it, no matter how agonizing it is inside.

Until the doorbell rings on Monday night and, about thirty seconds later, my parents barge into my bedroom.

“What the—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence before my mother covers her face and starts to cry.  “Willow, what have you done?”

I sit up, alarmed.  “What do you mean?  What’s going on, Mom?”  When she doesn’t answer, I look to my father, the salt-and-pepper gentleman holding my mother and wearing a thunder cloud on his face.

“Is this what happens when we give you a little responsibility, Willow?”  On his face is condemnation.  Whatever has happened, I’ve been tried and found guilty already.  

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, sliding off my bed to stand before the judges.

“
This
is why your mother was concerned when she found out you weren’t taking your medication. 
This
is why we wanted you to live with your sister.  We had hoped you wouldn’t need supervision for the rest of your life, but I can see that we’ll have to rethink that.”

“Supervision?  The rest of my life?  What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“We got a call from the Dean this afternoon.  Since we pay your tuition, our contact information is still on your school records.  He wanted to let us know that you’ll be questioned regarding the events of last week.” I feel the blood drain away from my face. What. The. Hell.  “He was going to start an official review, but I insisted that the instructor be terminated immediately or I’d have had to look into pressing charges.  At least the Dean had the good sense not to test me.  He made the right choice and got rid of that professor.”

“Wh-what?” I whisper. I can barely breathe.

“From what the Dean said on the way over here, that pervert didn’t even put up a fight.  He admitted that he was guilty and left without making a fuss.  Sounds like he’s not a
complete
idiot.”

The room gets hazy right before it starts to spin.  My chest is tight and achy, and my stomach swims with nausea.  “Dad,” I plead weakly, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting my head in my hands.  “Will you please back up and explain what you’re talking about?”

Please, please, please don’t let this be about Ebon.  Please, please, please.

There’s a long pause before my father clears his throat to begin.  I hear my mother whimper just as the first words leave his lips.

“Someone saw you and your…your professor doing, ahem, um, inappropriate things in his classroom last week.  Evidently this person debated turning you in, but she was concerned that your teacher was taking advantage of you and that your welfare was suffering because of it.  Although your mother and I couldn’t be more ashamed, we realize that this is likely a product of you coming off your meds, so we don’t blame you, Willow. But him?  Oh, we definitely blame him.  He should’ve known better.  To take advantage of an innocent girl like this…”

He trails off as my world implodes.  I can’t believe any of this is happening.  I knew that there was a significant chance things between me and Ebon would end badly, but I thought it would be a result of my deceit, not something like this.  I mean, there was a risk, a small chance that he could lose his job, which is probably why he stayed away from me, but…it was so small.  I never thought…  Not really.

I’m too stunned to cry.  Too stunned to think, almost.

“I spoke to the Dean about making arrangements for you to get incompletes on your classes this semester so that we can take you out of school and get you the help that you need.  He was very agreeable and—”

That gets my attention and I interrupt explosively before he can continue.  “You
what?”

I stand and face my father fully, fury bubbling through my veins. 

“Willow, you need help. You
know
you can’t just stop taking your medications. We can’t let this go on.  We’ve been down this road before.  We can’t risk it again.”

“
We
haven’t been down any roads,
Dad.  I
have. I’ve been through hell once already in my life, all because of
you
and your
uppity
ways.  If you think you’re going to force me into getting help that I damned well
don’t need,
then you’re crazier than you think I am!”

“Willow, we know firsthand how you respond to situations like this. For chrissake, it’s already beginning! The obsession, the utter lack of reason then the depression.  We know what comes next. When was the last time you left this room?”

I hate—hate, hate, hate—that he has a point, that he caught me like this.  “Just because I’m a little upset over a relationship ending doesn’t mean that I can’t pull myself out of it.  People grieve in different ways at different speeds, Dad.  You can’t come in here, unannounced, and get half the story and make your judgments.  That’s not fair.”

“Just because you can’t see what’s happening doesn’t mean that we can’t.  It’s the same story all over again.”

“No, it’s not!  The only reason things got out of hand with Gray is because you two got involved! If you’d just left us alone…”

“We couldn’t do that.  You are our daughter.  What he was doing to you  was…was… unconscionable.”

“We were in love!  Just because he was older—”

“You were fifteen!  He was twenty-five!  Having sex with a child, taking pictures of her, making videos…there’s a name for that in this country.  And it’s not tolerated, nor should it be.”

Tears scald my skin as they course down my cheeks.  “But you didn’t have to turn him in, Dad. 
That
is what pushed me over the edge.  He went
to prison! 
You didn’t have to take it so far.  He would’ve listened. He would’ve stayed away. 
I
would’ve stayed away, but you had to save your precious name, didn’t you?  No matter the cost to everyone else.”

“You think we
wanted
that?  You think we wanted to have a daughter who was the victim of sexual abuse and child pornography? You think we wanted to have to commit her because she tried to kill herself not once, but twice?  Willow, we did everything we could to help you.” 

“Except listen.  You wouldn’t listen. You just came in with a blowtorch and burned down my entire life.”

“We had to do something!  What would people have thought if we hadn’t?”

“God forbid the neighbors judge! What a travesty!  You might’ve tried talking to me, asking me how I was doing, what I was feeling.  But you didn’t. You were in damage control mode.  Hide the evidence, sweep it all under the rug.  Or under a pitiful little psychological diagnosis. That was your answer.  And it’s your answer now, only I’m old enough to say
no. 
I’m old enough to tell you to go to hell and to never speak to me again until you can learn to listen, to give me a little credit and have some respect for my feelings.”

Neither of my parents is saying a word. Sage is standing in the doorway behind them, eyes wide, listening.  My mother is holding her chest like my audacity is a physical knife to her heart.  My father just looks pissed.

“Maybe what happened with Gray was the result of some sort of childhood obsession.  We’ll never know. You never asked and I’ve had so much therapy and medication I can barely remember
what
I felt for him, what was real.  But it’s different this time.  I was clear-headed when I met Ebon.  I was clear-headed when I fell in love with him. I was clear-headed when I stayed away because he was dating Sage.  And I was clear-headed when she betrayed me by giving him something that was personal to me, giving it to him without my permission.  Have I made the best possible decisions since then?  I admit that I’ve screwed up.  Really badly.  But that doesn’t mean I’m crazy. It just means I’m human.  Fallible.  Just like the two of you.  Just like Sage.  I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it.  You can’t save me from it or send me away from it.  All you can do is go back to suburbia and hide from it.  Which is what I suggest you do.  Go play golf.  Go drink with your country club friends.  Go on with your life.  Just don’t tell them about what a mess your daughter’s life is.  Sweep it right back under that damned rug.  In the meantime, I’ll do what I have to do to straighten things out, to make this right. Because I’m perfectly healthy, I’m perfectly sane and I’m a perfectly capable adult who can handle consequences!”