Miriam finds out her pupil is fantasising about her (Part 10)

Miriam is getting too nosy. This time she reads the diary of her pupil and sees that she can also be the object of someone’s fantasies.

 

 

I’m a bit surprised at how easily I’ve been able to find sex lately. This area used to be filled with obstacles and prejudices, but it seems that Ariana and Bob opened me up for this kind of energy. I see each person as a sexual being and many of them as desirable beings.  Age, sex and status aren’t an obstacle.

So it happens that I also see my “pupil” Brian as a sexual being occasionally. The boy is 19, but he still needs to graduate from high school and I’m tutoring him in English. It’s more than obvious that he’s more interested in sports than in school. He’s late for class this time. I’m waiting for him in the living room of the lush apartment of his parents, who treat me like a queen – when they’re home, which happens very rarely. Brian’s sister Jane usually opens the door for me. She’s also blonde and has the eyes of an angel.

I’m sitting comfortably on a big sofa, drinking ice coffee that Jane brought to me and then disappeared. Some fantasy naughtiness made me put on a pretty tight skirt, which decently reaches almost to the knees otherwise. My heels are extremely high and my shirt very unbuttoned; if you look carefully – not many people dare to – you can see the crystal on my see-through bra.

Brian rushes home with his bicycle, puts down his sports bag and looks at me with his big blue eyes. His look isn’t as angelic as his sister’s...

“I’ll just jump in the shower,” he says when shaking my hand. “You can go into my room,” he says and escorts me to the door elegantly. Oh my, boys who tell you what to do but still have manners – an unbelievable combination.

I sit at his designer table, which is very neat. There are two notebooks and a textbook on it. I take a notebook to see what we did the last time.

“She was wearing tight jeans and no makeup today. God, this woman smells nice, like nutmeg or what’s that stuff, mulled wine and grandma’s cookies. She’s always wearing light sweaters and unpadded bras. I don’t know what’s wrong with my peers, but they all have bras with three layers. Yuck. There’s no chance of seeing nipples, except during physical education, when they put on sport bras, or when they have their bikinis on. With her it’s different. If it’s not warm enough in the room, her nipples become hard, as does my cock and my concentration goes out the window. I immediately imagine her without the stupid sweater. She’s taking her clothes off as if I weren’t even there, she’s walking around my room naked, then sits on my table all moist and starts playing with her clitoris. The table is made of glass – now I know why they make glass tables – and my perspective changes. I’m looking at her from underneath the table. In an ideal world even pussies squeezed against glass look divine. When she leaves a wet stain on the table, she lies down more comfortably and puts fingers into her moist hole as she moans loudly. That’s when she calls to me: 'Are you going to fuck me, kid?'”

Oops, the wrong notebook. I can’t resist, so I read on. When have I become such a sneaky bastard? Curiosity killed the cat, I tell myself.

 ”Occasionally, when I’m having sex with Josephine, I imagine I’m doing it with my tutor. Josephine is lying there like a piece of wood and when she’s on top, she’s shy and gets tired soon. I do love her, she’s very tight and her small tits jump like peaches in the wind, but... my tutor rides me with me still in my clothes in my fantasies, she only takes my cock out of my jeans, or she tears my shirt off, so that buttons are flying all over the room. She fixes my hands to my head and is poking on me like I was a sexual accessory, a piece of meat. She’s totally self-confident and her slightly tanned body is curling up and towards me like a cat’s. She sits on my face without reservations and screams until the neighbours can hear her. I imagine the expressions on her face, the slightly open mouth when she takes what she wants. She comes so that her muscles contract around me, she needs no help and even if she does, she helps herself, which is again totally erotic. She’s so sexy when she’s rubbing her clitoris with her fingers and is writhing because of her own artistic fingers. Might she also be shy?”

I think I’m blushing. The kid is fantasising about me, so it’s no wonder he isn’t making any progress in his English lessons. Just as I put the notebook down, the “kid” comes out of the shower. His hair is wet and his eyes are alight.

 

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