Red Hot Obsessions (146 page)

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Giving oral sex __

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Receiving oral sex __

3. What do you have experience with not listed above?

Dry humping.

4. Do you enjoy watching other people have sex or enjoy being watched while you're having sex?

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I enjoy watching __

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I enjoy being watched __

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I don't like watching but enjoy being watched __

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I don't like being watched but enjoy watching others __

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I don't enjoy watching or being watched __

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I have no preference _X_

5. What is your ultimate sexual fantasy?

6. What are you interested in learning about?

Anything you're willing to teach me.

7. What will you absolutely not do?

No bodily waste. No animals. No children. No anal sex.

8. Are you interested in learning about BDSM (Bondage & Discipline / Domination & Submission / Sadism & Masochism)?

Sure. Why not.

All the questions seemed easy enough to answer except for the ultimate sexual fantasy one. I wasn't quite sure what it meant, realistic fantasies or make-believe ones. Everyone has fantasies they'd never live out—fantasies they like to pleasure themselves to, like play rape and impossibly giant cocks stuffing them from both ends, or maybe even monster sex.

When I thought about it though, it didn't really make sense to jot down something that wasn't even possible. Still, the context depended on what he'd gather from the information, and I had no idea what that was.

Part of me wanted to write that I'd like to be taken by two men at once, but I was too embarrassed, and I didn't want to seem greedy. Besides, realistically, I wasn't sure if I would do it. I was a one-man woman. I didn't enjoy sharing, so I couldn't imagine my significant other wanting to share me. Anything else I could come up with was tame in comparison. In the end, I decided to leave the question blank.

Nervousness welled in my stomach as I turned the paper in to Damien the next day. For a little while, I had thought about waiting until the end of the week, to take some time to decide if this was what I really wanted. More than likely, these after school classes were a gateway to having sex with him.

If I didn't turn the paper in, I felt like I could wipe my slate clean, and things could continue as if nothing had happened between us. My carnal instincts wouldn't allow that though. I wanted Damien Reed. Maybe I hadn't been ready for him the first time he advanced on me, but now I was prepared. This wasn't a fantasy anymore.

Chapter 4: SELF EXPLORATION

I battled the butterflies in my stomach as I followed my GPS toward Damien Reed's house. Turn right here, then left there, it said, being annoying as usual. The neighborhood was unfamiliar to me, somewhere out where the country boarders the city. It was a hodgepodge of mixed housing, from rundown trailer homes to quaint little site-built homes. I wasn't sure what I should expect when I got to my destination.

The road went on, and the mobile homes got sparser. Then the site-built homes got sparse as well, and I was beginning to think I had gotten lost. My stupid GPS wasn't always right, but it hadn't announced that it was recalculating, so all I could do was follow it with blind faith.

I drove like a grandmother, taking in the scenery, and moving over onto the side of the road whenever a car was behind me. There was a massive white stone fence to my right and what appeared to be a game preserve to my left. A doe and her two fawns frolicked along the fence-line, looking especially adorable, though I couldn't pay much attention to them. Damien's house should be coming up anytime now.

I checked the address one last time and then scouted ahead. All I could see in the immediate area was the game preserve and the place where the fence opened up into a driveway. This definitely couldn't be right. My GPS led me astray again.

I cursed it as I pulled into the driveway, preparing to back up and turn around. Then I noticed the numbers on the gate and realized I was at the right spot.

“No way,” I mouthed as I looked down the driveway toward the expansive house that sat on top of a small hill. I had seen it from a distance and instantly assumed it belonged to some rich ranch owner in the area. Never had I imagined it could belong to Damien Reed.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed my foot to the gas peddle and forced my Miata to climb the hill, which led up to a circular driveway that surrounded a fountain, of all things. It was fairly simple, with three stone tiers that spilled water down on each other. Surrounding the fountain was a ring of red flowers, followed by another ring of blue flowers. Horticulture had never been my strong suit, so I had no idea what kind of flowers they were, but it was pretty.

I took a deep breath as I killed the engine, looking over at the house. Somewhere inside, Damien Reed was waiting to give me lessons on sexual nature and fantasy, whatever that meant. I imagined him walking out of the house shirtless, and my loins ached with need. Such a sexual deviant, I was. Or, at least, my mind liked to pretend I was. In reality, I was a virgin, and my sexual experience was minimal. Still, my brain spent most of its time in the gutter, fabricating erotic fantasies, most of which involved Damien as of late. He had become a sort of obsession for me, a fetish that replayed in my mind every night when I pleasured myself before bed. It was hard to believe that my fantasies were about to be made flesh.

“Just breathe,” I told myself as I opened the door and stepped out of my car, wondering if I had overdressed for the occasion. To be honest, my weekend wardrobe wasn't much different from school days. I wore pencil skirts or ankle length skirts on most days, coupled with a blouse that covered my entire chest. My clothes were form fitting, but far from seductive.

Once I reached the doorstep, I straightened out the wrinkles in my skirt. Naturally, I wanted to look perfect for Damien. I had even taken extra time on my hair and makeup, though I doubted he'd notice. Men weren't the most observant creatures.

I raised my hand to ring the doorbell and then waited until I heard footsteps on the other side. My heart drummed in my chest as the door handle began to turn. This was it. There was no going back now.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who didn't vary my wardrobe much between weekends and weekdays. Damien was rocking his typical tight-fitting jeans and T-shirt, making my imagination run rampant with thoughts of what was underneath them. I had already seen his impressive cock, but the rest of his naked body remained a mystery to me—a mystery I hoped would soon be discovered.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping aside without so much as a smile.

“This is a nice place.” I gazed around the interior of the house, which was every bit as expansive as the outside made it seem. Like Damien's desk at the college, the house was absolutely immaculate, with everything in its place. You'd never know that a bachelor lived there.

“This place is a lot bigger than I would think someone can afford on a teacher's salary,” I noted, following him into the living room.

“Well, it wasn't entirely bought on my salary, to be honest. I made a sizable amount of money when the stock market crashed. While other people were busy trying to get out, I was putting money in. After the stock market recovered, I cashed out about half of my investments and bought this place,” he told me.

Definitely, a smart man.

Damien sat me down and offered to get me a drink. While he went to retrieve it, I took some time to look around. His home décor was very contemporary, with lots of angles and neutral tones. There wasn't a whole lot of art, but the few paintings I did see were all abstract. The house didn't have a very lived in look, to be honest. More like something out of the pages of an interior design magazine.

When he returned, I thanked him for the water he brought me. He sat a few feet away on the large sectional sofa, angling his legs to face me and pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, which I quickly realized was the questionnaire he had me fill out in agreement to taking his lessons.

“I want to take some time to go over this first and get to know each other a little better before we begin. During this time, you can ask me any questions you might have,” he said. When I didn't respond, he continued, “You have pretty much no sexual experience, right?”

“Mhm.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” he repeated the word with distaste, his expression sulking into disappointment.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I thought you were older.”

“How old did you think I was?” I cocked an eyebrow. It wasn't often I was mistaken for older than I actually was. Usually, people thought I was younger by a few years.

“I thought you were at least in your early twenties.”

“Oh. Well, is my age going to be a problem?”

He sighed. “No. You're already here, so I'm not going to rescind my offer. Had I known how young you are though, I never would have considered it.”

That stung a bit, and somehow felt like a rejection yet again. If he didn't feel comfortable doing this, then maybe it wasn't worth doing. I thought about telling him that, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing my second chance with him. My stupid mouth already screwed things up once. If he truly didn't want me, or this, then he would have to turn me away. Blatantly. I would not be leaving otherwise.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I'm thirty-one. I'm sure you can understand why this makes me uncomfortable. If my age makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to do this,” he told me, sounding a bit too hopeful for my taste. There was no way I was going to let him go again though.

“No. I'm already here. You're a great Art Appreciation teacher. I'm sure you'll be good at teaching . . . other things.”

“Art Appreciation is an easy class to teach. Sex subjects are a bit more intense and intimate,” he said, still staring at my questionnaire as if he was afraid to look at me.

I wasn't sure what to say, so I didn't say anything.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “You seem like you're pretty open-minded towards learning just about anything. Your hard limits are very basic. Is there anything else you aren't willing to do?”

“Hard limits?”

“It's what they're called in the BDSM world. Basically, things you won't do no matter what. If I get into teaching you about BDSM, I'll cover the subject more thoroughly. That's a more advanced class though. It's not incredibly important for you to know about it now. We're going to take things very very slow, considering that you've never had sex before.”

“Oh.”

The way he sounded so put together sent a blush to my cheeks. It was as if talking about sex was just a normal everyday subject for him. He was Professor Damien Reed, no different than he was in the classroom, confident and professional. I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck inside. Every time he said the word 'sex', the butterflies in my stomach would take flight, flapping around wildly. There were sensations in other places too, but I tried to ignore those, for the most part. Those yearnings would be taken care of soon enough, I hoped.

“So, anymore hard limits?” he asked.

I suddenly felt confused. “I don't think so. Could you give me some examples of what other peoples' hard limits are?”

“Well, a lot of people don't like pain. They might be against being whipped or paddled.”

The thought of being paddled sent an aching need straight to my pussy. I had never met anyone who would be willing to do it. All of my past boyfriends were strictly vanilla. Or so I had assumed, considering I hadn't slept with any of them. Damien seemed like a kinky freak by comparison. Then again, he was a lot older, a lot more mature, and he taught this strange sex class.

I shrugged before saying, “I'll try almost anything once.”

“Except anal sex,” he noted.

“Yes. Except anal sex.” I nodded.

“What do you have against anal sex?”

I felt embarrassed to say it, but I couldn't come up with a good enough lie that didn't sound stupid. “I think it's mostly for gay men.”

He let out a short laugh. “Anal sex is not just for gay men.”

“I still don't think I'd want to try it. It sounds kind of gross to me.”

The grin stayed on his face. “Okay then. Well, that pretty much covers everything, except that you left the ultimate sexual fantasy question blank.”

“I wasn't sure if you meant a realistic fantasy or one of those fantasies you have that you'd never actually live out.”

“It doesn't really matter. I just ask this question, so I can get a better idea of what you're actually into, or perhaps the things that you'd like to try.”

A blush came to my cheeks as I opened my mouth to speak. “Well, I kind of would like to be spanked.”

I expected him to say that my fantasy was tame, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled a pen out of his pocket and filled in the blank spot on my questionnaire.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Alright. Well, I'm sure you'll come up with more as we progress through our lessons. These classes are very much about sexual awakening, figuring out what you like and don't like.”

That sounded absolutely blissful. Anything that Damien did to me, I would probably like . . . a lot.

“How many other students do you have?” I inquired, and then wanted to slap myself for it, knowing the answer would depress me.

“Just you, for right now.”

Relief flooded through me.
He's mine. All mine.
At least, for now.
The thought gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. Part of me wanted to ask him if he had a girlfriend, but I didn't want to press my luck. I would hold onto the fantasy that he belonged to me exclusively, for as long as I could.

“Do you have any other questions for me?” He set the questionnaire down on the table and relaxed back into the couch, crossing his ankle on top of his knee.

“No. I don't think so.”

It felt so strange having his complete attention. I wanted to look at him, but I couldn't, knowing I'd meet those deep dark eyes. They always seemed like they were burning right into me, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. I loved that about him, but I also hated it.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you want to tell me. Perhaps you could start with letting me know a little about how life was for you growing up. How was your family dynamic? Did you suffer any traumas in the past?”

“No. No traumas.” I shook my head, leaning back against the sofa and trying to relax. “I suppose my childhood was fairly normal. My parents stayed together until I started high school. When they got divorced, I ended up living with my mother. My father is a truck driver, so I couldn't really stay with him.”

“So, you live with your mother right now?”

“No. I recently moved in with my father since he lives close to campus. He's rarely at home though, so I have the house to myself most of the time.”

“And siblings? Do you have any?”

“No. It's just me.”

“I see.”

I half expected him to ask if I liked being an only child. It seemed to be the standard question as soon as I told people I was one. Damien didn't seem interested beyond that point though. He just sat there, looking at me, making me feel a bit uncomfortable.

“And you?” I asked. “What about your family?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. My parents are still married, though they're living in Washington right now. My father is a politician. My mother is a house wife. She was a stay at home mom for me and my brother when we were growing up.”

“So, you've always been pretty well off?”

“Yup. Spoiled little rich kid.” He smiled. “Though, don't get me wrong. I had to work for the things I wanted. Nothing ever came free. My father was a very strict man, and my mother was a perfectionist. They were good parents, but a bit overbearing. I think that's one reason why my brother and I both moved away as soon as we could. He moved away right out of high school. I waited until after college, when I was offered the job here.”

Maybe his parentage explained why he was such a neat freak. Just glancing around his house, everything seemed too clean—too perfect.

“Are you ready to get started?” Damien asked, noticing my eyes drifting.

My attention snapped back to him, and I felt my heart flutter. Was I ready? I had no idea what was coming next. Hopefully, he would want to have sex. Or maybe, hopefully, he wouldn't. I didn't want to freak out like last time, though I was pretty sure that I was more mentally prepared for everything now.