Kevin I wanted in a semi-public venue, to add that sense of urgency and thrilling danger- for him, not for me. I wanted him to squirm just a little, his responsible nature protesting against the pleasure. I always imagined us in a dark little nook of the hallways at night, pitch black all around us, both of us fully clothed but damp in summer’s wet and humid heat- and, consequently, musky with both of our scents, the hot smell of my own cunt and our sweat mingling together. We’re locked in a tight, full-body embrace but not a kiss; my mouth is hot and wet on his ear as I clutch him tight, almost holding him up, and my other hand is wrapped tight around his cock, roughly pulled out of his boxers and pants.

I don’t go slow, and there is no delicate teasing- this is a wham-bam, thank you, ma’am, drive-by fuck, fast, sloppy, hard. And he is the appropriate damsel to my aggression, moaning, groaning, bucking against my hold, begging with his whines. And I’m thrilled by his passivity, the feeling that I can do whatever I want to him and he’ll take it, that control. Sometimes in my fantasies I’m whispering a stream of obscenities into his ear, but more often than not, it’s just the gasping breaths and barely-muffled sounds of sex.

I hold him even tighter when he comes, feeling every muscle tighten and his body tense and buck and struggle to stay upright on his feet. When I finally let go, his glasses are slightly fogged and askew on his face, skin sweat-sheened, hair a mess where I grabbed it and yanked his head back to lick his throat, Adam’s apple, the bristly stubble on his jaw. His neat clothes are crumpled, and his cock is still hard, jutting out from his fly. He is completely disheveled, still panting, hell, still spasming slightly, bowing in at intervals as his prick twitches and he looks completely dazed.