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Sitting in your idling car, you reach over to the passenger seat and grab the community brochure to make sure you have the right address. You flip to the page you previously dog eared for easy reference: adult education. Scanning down the page you reach the teacher’s mugshot and class title: amateur pottery class. His picture is a standard generic headshot, but his chiseled handsomeness is still on display. Not the reason you are taking the class, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to have an attractive teacher.
No, you’re taking this class because you’ve always wanted to do pottery but have heretofore only managed to make odd rocks out of clay. Plus, this year is a new you! You check the address of the class and confirm you are indeed in the right place. You look over to the house and don’t notice any activity. You are a little early, but not THAT early. Just then the light of the garage turns on and the door rumbles open revealing an impressive pottery studio.
You see the teacher milling about in the back, setting things up and preparing for the class. You get out of your car and smooth out your slovenly Saturday t-shirt as if it will make a difference. You stroll up the driveway but the teacher doesn’t notice you. You clear your throat as if to say “excuse me, I’m here!” But he is still lost in his clay universe. You hesitantly enter the garage and try the clearing your throat trick once more, this time a little louder. Still nothing.
“Um, excuse me!” you say.
Startled, he turns around.
“Oh!” he trips over himself to walk toward you, “I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you come in.” He’s more handsome than in his photo. He reaches out and shakes your with a good strong grip. You instantly feel a spark between the two of you as his baby greenish blues meet your piercing blues.
“I’m Jane,” you say.
“Randall. Come in, come in,” he breaks the grip with a smile as he eases you into his space, “welcome to my studio, I’m so glad you joined my class.”
“Oh thank you!” you return the formality “It’s nice to be here, I’m looking forward to it!”
His presence is comforting and reassuring. “Tell me,” he asks, “why have you taken this class before?” It’s a boring, stock question, but there’s not any better way to get to know someone.
“I’ve always wanted to learn pottery and never really had the chance.” You answer as succinctly and honestly as possible. He smiles wide. It’s cute and charming. You can’t believe how instantly attracted you are to him. His social awkwardness is on full display as he moves the discussion further, but honestly, you don’t remember what was said since you were completely lost in his eyes. He cuts off the intense eye contact by glancing at his watch.
“Is it just you and me?” he wonders rhetorically.
“Oh please, yes! Oh please, yes!” you think to yourself.
“Well, I guess we should get started,” he finally states the obvious.
“Woo hoo!” you jump for joy in your mind, but try to maintain your composure and resist the urge to do a fist pump in the air. Just then you hear a gentle honk and a car pull up into the driveway. Dammit!
“Oh…great!” the teacher says with what sounds like a hint of sarcasm. “Mrs. Belamy!”
You turn to see a very large woman coming up the driveway. She has a commanding presence and walks with the confidence of someone who has successfully fought her way through life. “Hello Mr. Stephens!” she yells from far too far away. Her voice is loud and piercing and you want her to leave as soon as possible. But, alas, she is another student. You are soon joined by a third student. A sweet little old lady that reeks of patchouli and lavender.
As the class progresses, you can’t take your mind off of the teacher and what he might look like naked. Because of this, you have no idea what you are doing when it comes time to use the pottery wheel, and it shows. The clay goes flying about, covering your smock and elbows in clay. He comes over and adjusts your wheel’s speed.
“Need some help?” he asks politely. You nod sheepishly, but in your mind, you scream YEEEEES!
“Let’s see your technique,” he commands. Your lead foot slams on the pedal causing wet clay to shoot across his chest.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” You beg for forgiveness.
“Quite alright,” he reassures, “I’ll find a way to get you back.” He winks.
You smile from ear to ear with his flirting tease. He gets in behind you, his presence is looming and dominating. It turns you on. He reaches around you, hugging you and tucking you into his chest so that he can reach the clay spinning on the bahis firmaları wheel in front of you. Both of your hands reach the clay coating them as it spins, effortlessly lubricating them. He pushes your arms in, centering the clay. You could live in this moment. Now you finally understand that scene in Ghost. He gently and reassuringly helps you mold the clay and get a feel for the wheel. Just about the time you start to get the hang of it, the class is over.
As the week passes you ache for the next session. You are eager to have him hugging you again, to simply be in his presence. For the next class, you ensure not to look quite as slovenly as you did the first time. But not too much, after all, it is a clay class, and you are expected to end up somewhat messy. You intentionally arranged your shirt to show just a bit of cleavage. You arrived earlier than last time so that you can spend even more time with the teacher. This time his door is wide open, and he sees you pull up. You hop out of the car eager but trying not to show it.
“Hi!” he says, clearly revealing an equal amount of eagerness.
“Hey!” you reply with a coy smile. “I’ve been thinking about this class all week!”
“Really?!” he says surprised.
“Oh shit! Was that too much?” you think to yourself, immediately regretting sharing so much so quickly.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” he replies.
Whew! You can see on his face the same regret of sharing too much. You reassure him by purposely brushing up against him as you walk to get your clay. As your skin lightly touches, it instantly gives you goosebumps.
“We’re gonna finish your pot today!” he says awkwardly, causing you to smirk.
“Great!” you reply, unsure of what else to say.
Fucking Mrs. Belamy arrives early this time. Goddammit. As the class progresses you revel in every fleeting moment you have with Mr. Stephens, but the old lady and Mrs. Belamy command their fair share of attention. Nonetheless, he is making a point to spend as much time as possible around your wheel. As the class nears an end, you are rueful for not getting nearly enough of him as you were hoping for.
Thankfully, Mrs. Bellamy announces she is leaving early, and the old lady is currently occupying herself. For the rest of the class, he is all yours! He plants himself right behind you and once again tucks you neatly into his chest, enveloping you completely. The two of you giggle as the ugly pot takes form in your hands. Finally, your first pot emerges from the clay. He stands up and helps you pull it off the wheel.
“You did it!” he exclaims excitedly.
“Yay!” you jump for joy and wrap your arms around his neck hugging him, before you know what you’re doing you’ve kissed him square on the lips. His surprise is palpable, as is yours. But you are seriously so damn proud of this little ugly pot.
The old lady clears her throat very loudly, “So, that’s how you do it!” The two of you break your embrace, and you are overcome with embarrassment.
“I think it’s time for me to head out!” the old woman says as she gives you a wink and pats you on the shoulder all too knowingly.
You awkwardly help Mr. Stephens clean up, unsure what to do.
“I guess I should be…” you start to excuse yourself.
“Would you like to come in for a drink?” he interrupts.
“Yes!” another perfect opportunity to jump for joy if you weren’t so self-conscious at the moment.
He opens the door to his house and shows you in. It’s a beautiful place, decorated with an artist’s eye for detail. He disappears into the kitchen, and you are unsure where to sit, not wanting to get clay on anything.
“Where is your restroom?” you ask.
“Just down the hall to the right,” he answers, and you hear the pop of a wine bottle opening.
As you walk toward the bathroom you pass his bedroom. You don’t stop to stare, but you are almost positive there is bondage gear in there. The sight and thought instantly make you wet. As you return from the bathroom you try once more to peek into his bedroom. Still can’t be exactly sure what you see. He is waiting in the living room with a glass of wine for you.
You take it delicately in your hand and sit on the sofa crossing your legs sexily. He smiles at you. An odd silence passes. It’s clear you both want to fuck, but don’t know how to make the move. Damn this social awkwardness! But at the same time, the silence isn’t quite clumsy or uncomfortable. It almost has a consoling quality about it. As if you are sitting with a dear old friend and enjoying quiet time together.
“So huh…” kaçak iddaa he stumbles through a question, “what huh…what would you like to do?”
You shrug your shoulders, “I dunno, I’m game for whatever. Anything you want to do?” Come on buddy, just make your move already, you think to yourself.
“Well…” he stumbles some more, “I uh…I’d like to tie you up and have my way with you…”
Whoa! Move made! It’s all you can do to hold back a spit take. Maybe you should watch what you ask for. But you’re not gonna lie and say that you don’t want the same thing. His proposal sounds divine. A million thoughts and permutations shoot through your head after what feels like an eternity as you calibrate your response. Too eager and you’ll seem like a slut; shut him down and you risk losing this.
“OK,” you reply.
“For real?!” he says with way too much excitement.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” you say, throwing back the last bit of wine with a tremendous gulp.
“Stay here,” he says as he disappears down the hall and into his bedroom. You are now almost positive it was bandage gear you saw in his room. He returns with some nylon rope. Bingo. Bondage gear. You stand up with a huge grin on your face, eager for what’s to come. He grabs your waist and pulls you close. His power is impressive as he holds you tightly in his arms. He plants a deep passionate kiss on your lips that takes your breath away. You reach up and run your fingers along the back of his hair, wanting this kiss to last forever, but, instead, he takes your hands and begins wrapping the rope around your wrists. You smile at him devilishly as it slowly gets tighter around your wrists.
“Get on your knees,” he commands.
You obediently comply, dropping to your knees in front of him as he still holds onto your bound wrists. With his free hand, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them off, his rock-hard cock shooting out at attention in front of you. You want to take it in your mouth but respectfully wait for the command. You don’t have to wait long.
“Take it in your mouth,” he orders.
Like you are bobbing for apples, you try to catch the head without using your hands, and he relishes in it slapping against your cheeks. Finally, you catch it and push your head down onto it, swallowing as much as you can. He lets out a moan as it slides down your throat. You slobber all over it as you bob your head up and down. He takes his free hand and grabs a fistful of your hair, shoving your head down onto him and thrusting his member deeper.
You feel it bang against the back of your throat. He begins fucking your face. His cock must be poking your tonsils. He holds it deep in your throat and your eyes begin to water. He pulls it out allowing you to catch your breath for the briefest of moments before it’s filling your mouth once more. You are soaking wet as he has his way with your mouth. Once again he pulls it out and lifts the head to allow you to lick and suck his testicles, which you do eagerly.
He pulls on your wrists, signaling you to stand up. As you stand he lifts your shirt over your head, it bunches around your wrists. He takes off your bra and it joins your shirt in a bunch around your wrists. He cups your tits in his hands and sucks them. Gently biting the nipples and flicking them with his tongue. They stand at attention. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them down along with your panties in one fluid motion.
You stand before him completely naked with your hands bound and a mess of clothing bunched up around your wrists. You feel your pussy is sopping wet, dripping down your inner thighs. He reaches down and touches you, sliding his finger along your opening, feeling the wetness. You let out a small moan as he grazes against your clit. He licks the juices off his finger, tasting you as he stares into your eyes. You are completely his now. He picks you up by the waist and carries you as if he were a caveman taking you to his lair.
He enters his bedroom and flicks on the lights. Oh yeah! Bondage gear! An assortment of paddles, chains, and various gear adorns the dresser as if he were prepared for this. He tosses you on the bed and you squirm into place. He grabs your wrists and ties them to the headboard. As he does, his cock is dangling in front of your face, you take the opportunity to lick and taste it once more. He allows you, clearly taking his time tying the rope. Your arms are now completely restrained to the headboard.
He pulls his cock away from you, and you give him a playful pouty lip. He smiles back and reaches for a blindfold. When you kaçak bahis see it, your breathing quickens as you start to question your decision. You are reminded of that Stephen King story and your imagination runs wild. He kindly notices and lovingly whispers in your ear, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Real light. Nothing painful.
He gently kisses your cheeks and your nerves are calmed. He ties the blindfold around your head, and you are now alone in the darkness. You hear his movements, his breath. You feel when he is close. You reach out with your mind’s eye, trying in vain to replace your lost sense. He draws this out like a blade. You feel exposed, tied naked to his bed, ripe for his taking, but you’re still insanely turned on and gushing wet. You breathe heavily and deeply, taking in the silence.
Finally, you feel his firm touch on your thigh. It’s reassuring and pleasing. His hands roam over your body, massaging every inch. You melt under his touch – the feeling so intense. He parts your thighs wide and his fingers begin sliding over your soaking wet pussy. He circles it over and over, slowly from top to bottom again and again. It feels so good. His other hand is making small tight circles around your nipples. Gently pinching them occasionally. You are amazed at how close to an orgasm you already are. Your breathing quickens. You’ve never wanted to be fucked more in your life. Suddenly he stops.
Again, you find yourself reaching out with your non-existent echolocation to try to find him. Silence. You feel him grab your right ankle and pull it wide. He ties it to the bed. He repeats this with your left, leaving you completely spreadeagled on his bed. You want him so bad, but he is once again quiet. The ambiance of the room fills your ears. The silence is shattered by an all too familiar buzzing sound. You know that sound well. You try to peek down your nose through the small crack in the blindfold and catch a glimpse of the characteristic pink glow of your favorite toy. Your heart, incredibly, races even faster.
You feel his weight upon the bed as he places a firm hand on your belly. Just that is enough to make you moan with delight. Before long you feel the vibrating tool gently sliding over your pussy. Your pelvis immediately clenches as the toy works its magic. He moves it expertly over your clit and then plunges it deep into you as if he had watched an instructional video. Before long you are convulsing with an orgasm. Your limbs try to retract as your muscles clench, but the binds prevent it. Your body shakes as the orgasm takes hold. Just as it is subsiding, he pulls the toy away and replaces it with his mouth, eagerly lapping up your juices. Your body is still shaking as he licks your pussy and clit extending your orgasm and pleasure. You wish you had a free hand to shove his head onto your pussy. Instead, you thrust upward into his wanting mouth.
He pulls away once more, you feel him shifting on the bed. You’re barely aware of what is happening. You feel the head of his cock rub down your pussy as he positions it at your entrance. You want him inside you now. He holds. Pushing in just the tip. Teasing you. If you thrust upward, he pulls back. He pushes in a little more. You beg for him to fuck you.
Finally, he fills you with one massive thrust. You scream with delight. He slides into your wetness effortlessly, stretching your pussy and striking deep. You writhe against your restraint wanting to wrap your legs and arms around him. He begins fucking you hard and fast. Once again you are screaming orgasmically. He pulls out of you, releases your ankles, and flips you over. You barely know what is happening, lost in bliss. He pulls your waist up so your ass is in the air. You hold tightly to the headboard as he takes your hips and plunges his cock into you. The bed bangs against the wall loudly. Your pussy aching with each powerful thrust. You feel your hair being pulled. He has your back arched, ass in the air, and is pounding you hard.
You feel a gentle smack on your ass cheek and you giggle approvingly. You feel him tense up, his cock swelling even more inside you. He is close to cumming. He pulls out of you and flips you over once more. Silence. You take a breath and then feel his warm cum spraying across your naked body. You let out a sigh of relief and pleasure as you feel it drip across your belly and tits. You wish you could rub it in and encourage him to coat you more. He leans down and removes your blindfold, a big grin on his face. He kisses you deeply and releases your wrists.
“May I?” He says holding up his phone indicating he wants to take a picture of your cum covered tits. You survey the results of his impressive explosion. You happily model your glistening tits for his camera.
He smiles, “Payback!”
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