Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
CHAPTER FIVE
Evie
Oh god, oh god. What is that in Mr. Phillips’ hand? Oh god … can it be? I feel myself go hot, then cold, then hot again. My face flushes beet red, the heat spreading across my chest, while my hands and feet suddenly become clammy.
I’d searched for the kumquat after my little session during Homecoming – had literally crawled on my hands and knees trying to find my lost fruit in that darkened hallway. But I’d come up empty and had finally given up, shrugging my shoulders. It was no big deal, I’d figured. It was just a piece of random fruit. The janitor would pick it up the next morning and trash it.
Except that here it is now in Mr. Phillips’ fingers, and he’s smiling at me like he knows what I did.
“Um,” I stutter nervously. “Doesn’t look familiar, no.”
But the big man is smooth.
“I think you know,” he rumbles deep in his chest, his blue eyes dancing. “Don’t pretend, little girl. I think it belongs to you.”
“Um, it’s…it’s a baby orange?” I feign ignorance.
Mr. Phillips just chuckles, leaning back in his chair.
“I think you know what it is, Evie,” he growls, his eyes suddenly intent. “It’s a kumquat, and you know where it’s been.”
At that, I flush again, probably turning an even deeper shade of red. Because it had been in my pussy. I’d moaned and screamed during my session, completely sure that I was alone. Sure that the thumping of the music had muffled any sounds I was making. But Mr. Phillips’ devilish grin is telling another truth – he’d seen the whole thing, and I’ve been outed. Oh my god.
My lips are trembling – in fact, my whole body is trembling – as I turn pleading, brown eyes to him.
“Please, Mr. Phillips,” I beg. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”
He just grins at me, his blue eyes gleaming.
“Why would I tell anyone?” he drawls. “It made my day. My entire month, in fact.”
I gasp. What is he saying? That seeing me in the hallway, nude, my pussy pulsing, had made his month? Could that be true? Surely not. But the way the air is tingling tells me that something has changed between us. Suddenly, we are more than just student and teacher, and this is more than a talk about AP exams and after-school tutoring. A bolt of lightning runs through my body, and I can tell he feels it too. Our conversation is suddenly supercharged; my cunt is moist, and my breasts are sensitive.
Mr. Phillips’ eyes flick to my nipples as if drawn by a magnet. They look like rocks under my sweater, stiff and perky. Although it seems impossible, I actually blush a little more. I’d worn a tight top and a modest skirt today, a change from my usual jeans and t-shirt. I guess the release I’d gotten from my Homecoming masturbation session had made me feel devilish and sexy, and I hadn’t wanted to wear the same old, boring stuff anymore. So instead, I’d worn something sexy, form-fitting, and flirtatious.
Except now, my nipples are clearly poking out through the cashmere. The material is so fine and so soft that it’s highlighting the protrusions. I curse internally. God, oh god, why is this happening to me now, of all times? I’d thought wearing the outfit would be a nice reminder of the fun I’d had Saturday night – a memento of sorts – except that now, I’m being betrayed by my own body.
But Mr. Phillips is eating it up. He’s smiling knowingly again, his eyes gleaming and his chest and abs hard, as his gaze sweeps up and down my body. His gaze makes me tingle. My breath is suddenly short.
“Like I said,” his voice suddenly sensuous and suggestive, “seeing you play with the kumquat, strumming yourself to a finish, was the highlight of my month.”
I gasp again because he has finally put words to it. We are beyond innuendos and vague suggestions about what had happened. He’d said it. I’d “played with the kumquat” and “brought myself to a finish.” It’s totally true; I’d done all that … and more. I’d dreamed of him while fingering myself – imagining the big man touching me and running his dick in and out of my sweet spot. Tingling and shuddering, I had imaged his big cock doing the dirty with me and making me feel good.
While I stand there in a sexual daze, my gorgeous teacher just chuckles again.
“And, Evie, I loved witnessing it,” he rumbles, his eyes ravenous. Then he pushes back from his desk and leans back in his chair so that I can get a good look. “See what you do to me?” he asks, gesturing to his pants.
Glancing at his lap, I gasp. The tent at his crotch is huge, and I mean really enormous. The way his penis is curved under the tight fabric looks painful; it’s almost bent over and wrapped around his waist the way it’s strained. My hands suddenly tremble as my mouth grows dry.