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"La próxima ves, quizás yo ordene y tú pagues. —Maybe next time, you can pay and I'll order? I say. with a grin. I'm not really sure what my endgame is but I could seriously stand to gain a friend or two.

"Trato hecho." —Done deal.

~Jaime~

We've been out for summer break for less than a week, and there's still two weeks until summer school gets underway. I don't know if I'm just a glutton for punishment or don't know how to leave well enough alone but...

"Would you— maybe...Care for some tea? I live right over-r-r... There." I say, pointing, as Layla follows my finger with her eyes to the sight of my storefront apartment building.

I've been teaching for almost twenty years. The last eight of which I spent teaching language arts in Japan.

Being back in Chicago after being away for so long, Burncrest Elementary has quickly come to feel like home. Unfortunately, that school building is more like home to me than my much too quiet apartment ever has been.

"I should probably be getting home. Today was supposed to be a wash day for my hair. It's usually an all day event— " She says, actually speaking the unkind words I'd been thinking earlier...

"Yeah, I can see that..." I say, avoiding her gaze and resting my eyes on the reddish-brown oversized fluffy afro puff making a sun drenched halo around her head.

Shit, shit, shit... What was I thinking!?Serves me right...

"—But since it's not like we have school tomorrow... I'd like that."

--

I still don't know what the hell I'm thinking. Well, I kind of know. She drinks tea, I drink tea. What reason is there for us not to drink tea together?

—And then I watch her fold a stick of sugar free spearmint gum into her mouth as we stand waiting to cross at the light. To her credit she does offer me a piece and, for reasons unknown, I too shove the offered piece into my mouth...

~Layla~

Now at the door of an old two story apartment building, with a flower shop storefront attached, I watch as Jim thumbs in what must be a ten digit code before the lock of the residential door is disengaged.

Just inside the door is a small mail satchel rigged up to catch the mail from the outside slot. Reaching inside of it, he retrieves a couple of envelopes and some sales fliers that he deposits directly into a blue recycle bin sitting beside the door. Along with the chewing gum I gave him into the trash can next to it.

Standing patiently in the small entryway I peer up a single darkened staircase.

"After you..." Jim says, extending an open hand, offering me the stairs.

Grateful to know that this man has the trust of an entire school administration, I lead the way up a tunneling staircase that only gets darker as we ascend it.

Thankfully, I hear the flick of a switch, quickly followed by the clearing of his throat, as the wooden stairs are cast with warm light.

Being that the building is so old, evident by the creek of the stairs and aged wooden molding around the doors and baseboards, I'm not expecting much when he uses his keys to unlock one of two doors at the top of the stairs.

However, when he swings open the door, I'm met by the sight of a large loft apartment that is as bright as the hall was dark.

A huge room covering most, if not all, of the top floor of the building is athed in natural light. A vast expanse of windows allow in afternoon sunlight, brightening the room to the point of awe.

"Oh, wow... This is awesome." I say, unable to mask my true first impression.

"Thanks. It's taken me about three years but I think I finally have it where I want it." I vaguely hear him say, but I am truly impressed.

There are just so many windows. So much space. Too many contradictions...

What stands out most is the wooden floors that stretch the length of the room like the lanes of a bowling alley. Twice as long, equally as wide and just as shiny, and with a warm chestnut finish.

There's exposed brick instead of drywall between all of the paned windows, but that's the only remaining evidence of the building's age.

To the right is a modern stainless steel kitchen complete with double ovens and sub-zero refrigerator with a dark granite-topped island and cooking range built in.

Straight ahead is a plush gray leather couch and a rustic wooden coffee table coated to shine just as bright as the floors.

A modest flat screen TV is mounted between two of the large windows and above a stereo cabinet. Framed photos pepper the walls and portions of book-filled bookshelves that run below the windows and along the wall on either side of an entertainment center.

More large windows flank the kitchen at one end of the room while a floor to ceiling frosted glass wall flanks the other partially concealing what I suspect is his bed room.

"Puedes quedarte un rato." —You can stay a while. He says, standing close beside me. I've barely crossed the threshold as I remain standing on a large rug near the entrance.

"Tu hogar es hermoso." —Your home is very beautiful.

"Hermosa..." —Beautiful...

"Wait— no, that's right..." I say, thinking for a moment... "Hogar is a masculine noun, so the use of th—" Before I can finish my thought, this man next speaks words that falter nearly ten months of my deliberate abstinence.

"Eres hermosa." —You are beautiful. He states matter of factly and with only the slightest air of hesitation.

—OOooh... I mime, my mouth forming a voiceless reply as we stand staring at one another...

I could have sex everyday of the week if I wanted to. All I'd have to do is go to the bar around the corner from my condo and sit there for a half hour, periodically crossing one leg over the other. But I don't do that anymore...

I have more male 'friends' than female 'friends'— the men hoping that I'll slip up one day and sleep with them and most women too threatened to have me anywhere near their husbands or boyfriends.

So, fully turning to face Jim Herrera, seventh grade teacher with the personality of a piece toast and a Dennis the Menace haircut, I take a step closer— feeling unsure, but mostly just feeling...

Seeing this man's usually timid gaze turn absolutely predatory— floods my panties and drowns any semblance of propriety.

Closing the small distance between us, I hook my fingers around his neck and lean in running the tip of my tongue along the edge of his lip.

Immediately, he tugs me tightly into his arms mauling my lips and face with his stubble covered mouth and soft, deep pink lips.

To have him eagerly fumbling and molding his lips with mine is more endearing than erotic and for once, it just feels safe— the groans radiating from his throat, raising and practically singeing every hair on my body.

With taxed breathing and his rock solid dick wedged against my inner thigh, he pulls away. His eyes silently searching mine— questioning if what we're doing is acceptable...

Quickly realizing that I don't like the answer, I firmly cup my hand over the bulge in his shorts and proceed to kiss him again, throwing all caution to the wind.

—It's a shame what I'm about to do to this man...

~Jaime~

Doing my best to toe off and not trip over my gym shoes, I grasp Layla's smooth bare waist and she moans into my mouth like some mythical siren making me hard enough to chip diamonds.

It's been a long time and, quite frankly, I think it's showing but that doesn't seem to inhibit our progress.

Moving toward the sofa, Layla starts to undress and I'm excited like it's my first time all over again.

By the time she's flat on her back the only thing covering her body is her yellow bra and a pair of, also yellow, winking emoji panties.

Watching her work the cuffs of her jeans from the heels of her feet, I'm surprised by how much I want this... My breath hitching further when she raises her hips to lower her panties.

Finding her completely hairless and bare between her legs, I'm again surprised. So surprised, in fact, that I've stopped to stare.

"You need some help?" She tugs me toward her and I fall forward, my fists pressing into the sofa cushions to hover me above her while my knee anchors me between her soft naked thighs.

Layla continues to work my shorts down my legs as I reach to single-handedly pull my t-shirt over my head.

Taking care with the band of my boxers, her fingers graze and inadvertently snag the coarse hair below my belly button and when my cock springs free we each emit an audible gasp.

Mine, a hiss of pleasure of finally being released from the contorted confines of my briefs. Hers, of apparent elation.

"Daaamn... I didn't know you had it like that..." She breathes, the pads of her fingers shamelessly slicking the trickle of precum over the head of my cock as if she's trying to coax a genie from a bottle.

I momentarily close my eyes only to open them to the sight of a trojan being held out to me.

With sweat forming on my brow, I'm careful to sheath myself, but become distracted when Layla begins to rub concentric circles around her clit.

Her fingers are so wet with the sap of her hairless sex it's like white noise to my ears, but when she touches and sucks those same fingertips against her tongue, it's a sight I beg to unsee...

~Layla~

He's not that long, but maaan— he is thicker than sin with an upward curve that strains to the ceiling and I am here for it!

I can tell that he's nervous, but so am I. It's been a minute, but not long enough to pass up a good thing when I see it. Willingly taking part in an act that has so many ways to ruin me...

How did I go from planning to wash and twist my hair, well into the night, to soaking wet and dripping down my ass crack onto the couch of one of the seventh grade teachers from my school?

Clutching his thick waist, I pull him down to me happily meeting his kiss when he once again presses his lips over mine.

Guiding him to my entrance, he pushes forward with a pained look on his face while I think I'm having an out of body experience.

Relaxing every muscle in my body, I relish being filled and the feeling of his dark and curlies crashing against my clit. He pauses and I can feel his heartbeat through his dick. Throbbing and bumping a steady beat against my walls. And then he's moving.

Slowly at first. Thrusting his hips forward and deliciously stretching me with a girth I've felt only a few times before.

With every thrust I creep, crawl, and inch toward that sweet spot that ruins bedsheets and either has men running scared or coming back for more.

As his hips begin to move with more urgency, I feel myself heading toward the finish line. Just short seconds shy of hitting my stride before coasting over the edge.

Usually, with a guy as thick as he is, in combination with my idle classroom kegels, it doesn't take lon—

"Oh, gah—oh ga! Aahh—aah— ah!!"

Squeezing his eyes shut with head to toe convulsions that rock both his body and mine, he collapses on top of me like, well, like that guy...

~Jaime~

There was nothing I could do. I tried to visualize everything under the sun— other than the woman lying beneath me. But nothing— not even thinking of fail-proof scenes from Sister Act, could keep me from picturing Layla wearing a habit with a ruler in her hand.

Shhhit.

"Sorry." I heavily sigh, my head still buried between her neck and shoulder, not quite ready to look at her.

And then I feel Layla begin to shake with laughter... I'll be damned.

"You sure know how to make a man feel good..." Sitting back on the couch, I slip the condom off my weeping cock that looks just about as deflated as I feel.

"That's kinda the point isn't it? If I had a dime for everytime I actually came during sex, I'd have— a dollar...

"Seriously?!"

"Gotta be realistic... Doesn't mean I didn't have fun, though. Maybe next time, Slugger."

Quickly standing, Layla ruffles my hair and attempts to move past me while reaching to the floor for her panties...

Slugger?

~Layla~

Stepping over his feet to pass, Jim grabs my hips and pushes me forward running his open palm down the vertebrae of my spine while bending me over his designer wooden coffee table.

"La lengua perfecta todavía no ha lamido tu coño." —The perfect tongue hasn't yet eaten your pussy.

I can easily see my reflection in the high gloss of the table but it's quickly forgotten when his tongue penetrates the lips of my sex from behind.

With his nose pressed against the exposed flesh of my taint, his tongue toys with my clit. The depth and effort of his tongue so thorough my knees begin to knock together from the onslaught of stimulation.

Gripping and parting the cheeks of my ass, the sound of him slurping and sucking my inner labia summon the tremors of an orgasm before I realize that my knees are buckling beneath me.

Quickly catching me around the waist, Jim follows me to the table as I slip down to my elbows.

My body begins to shake and spasm and as much as I want to warn him, the element of surprise is always half the fun.

And I can't help but smile when his tongue goes to working overtime, eagerly lapping up the consequences of my climax as it splashhttps://id.techinasia.com/profile/chrismurray

es from the depths of my sex.

~Jaime~

Well, that's a first...

Layla falls to her side sprawled on my— never more ironic, cocktail table while panting and looking at me through narrowed eyes.

The edge of a dark nipple peeks from her bra while her flat belly shimmers with sweat and her thighs remain slick and wet from her release.

Not only are her legs soaked but there's now a wet spot on my rug and her dew is beaded across the hairs of my chest.

"So——" I say, feeling a bit out of my depth. I've never been with a woman that's done that before. Convinced that squirting was some sort of magic trick— a slight of hand created by the porn industry. Apparently that's not the case, because that was the hottest shit I've ever seen...

"So..." She says, parroting me. Prodding me... Leaning with my back against the cool leather of my sofa, my cock is again aching and arching toward my chest with need.

"Have I redeemed myself?" I begin to stroke myself, swallowing the uncertainty of what's to come.

A smile slowly begins to spread across her face. Her gaze wavering between my cock and eye contact.

Moving to stand, Layla reaches to release the hooks of her bra, slipping the cups from her breasts and the straps down the length of her arms before tossing it on the sofa beside me.

As naked as the day she was born, she stands boldly before me allowing me to drink in the slim feminine curves of her body.

Full breasts spire to firm peaks with perfectly round areolas and rich mocha nipples that pebble even further against my probing gaze.

Warm creamy brown skin— a shade lighter than my own, shines from head to toe still very much alight with arousal.

She's thin enough that her thighs don't meet but somehow her legs are still thick and shapely.

And that pussy. It's like one of those spinning slushy machines, wielding liquid heat instead of ice.

Finally taking the two short steps to meet me, Layla climbs onto the sofa straddling my lap. My cock mere millimeters from entering her. Her nipples flush with my now sticky chest as she reaches into her handbag tucked behind a throw pillow.

Sheathing me twice over, she lowers her viselike walls around me with a moan.

"We'll see how round two goes..."

--

At the end of round two, Layla asks to use my bathroom after which she found her way to my bed for round three...

Fortunately, I had the foresight to slide the photo of my wife into the drawer of the nightstand while she freshened up.

For many months and now at the end of two years I had never even considered Layla Lattimore to be a friend, let alone a lover.

As far as I can tell, she's a good teacher. Dedicated. Respected. However her greatest interest seems to be leaving school by four o'clock, sharp.

"Dinner was delicious. Thank you..."

"Was it? You didn't eat much..."

"Lunch was pretty big...horchata, enchiladas, churros... whipped cream—" She lists. Her words trailing off.

"My eyes have always been bigger than my stomach." I say, patting my belly after a dinner of grilled salmon, yellow rice, and fresh green beans.

A faint smile makes its way to Layla's mouth but she suddenly looks uncomfortable.

~Layla~

"I really should head out.." I say, slipping down from my swiveling high-backed barstool. set beside his and one other, in front of a pearlesque marble counter and tabletop.

He really does have great taste. From the window treatments that he lowered before we ate, to the modern lighting fixtures hanging throughout the loft, it's like being in a showroom at one of those trade fairs that Ivy always drags me to.

After my first cup of tea I found myself watching as Jim went about his kitchen preparing dinner for himself which I was easily enticed into joining him for.

I've trained myself to only eat one meal a day but, more than anything, I craved his company nearly as much as he seemed to crave mine.

It's coming up on eight o'clock and even though I know my hair isn't going to happen tonight, staying any longer just seems like a bad idea. As if this day could get any more stupid...

Walking me to the door, Jim quickly leans in kissing my cheek and retreats just as swiftly.

"Thank you for everything..." He sighs with his hand on the doorknob.

His eyes are on me but there's something off.

No matter how inappropriate our actions today might have been— even given our working relationship, we're both adults here.

"Jaime." I say, grabbing his attention the best way I know how.

"I never got to ask you earlier, but how do you know my real name?" He only goes by Jim at school, probably to otherwise have people butcher Jaime.

"I have my ways..." And an inside informant for more than fifteen years now... Burncrest Elementary is a well-oiled machine thanks to Patty, our front office assistant, but just like an old refrigerator— she can't keep nothin'.

"Patty?"

"Yep."

"Well, you probably shouldn't call me Jaime at school..."

"Who's to say I'm going to call you anything at all?" His smile fades and his dimples disappear. And there it is. Another flash of apprehension...

"Hey, I'm kidding..." I say, instantly reaching out to touch his face but stop myself. "You really think I could ignore Slugger's two victorious innings?" I say with a grin and his smirk returns but the question visibly remains.

"Remember, we're adults. Not just two hormonal kids who got caught kissing in the coat room."

~~Jaime~~

I beg to differ. I may not be a kid anymore but the only explanation for what went on here today was, indeed, a result of overactive hormones.

"No, we're not kids..."

"It's not like we're married and unless you're planning on going to the school board and reporting that I let you stick your dick in me, then there's nothing wrong with keeping each other company."

No matter how crude, she has a point. Although, I was more concerned that she might go to the board, but now that that's off the table...

"Your shirt's inside out." I tease and her smile immediately mirrors mine.

~~Layla~~

No, the fuck it is not...

"Is it...?" I ask with a challenging smile. My gaze never parting from his.

I used his bathroom again before the tea kettle had begun to whistle. I'd put my bra back on, straighten my hair puff and even 'freshened up' my red velvet lip gloss.

My panties are still balled up in my purse but I don't think I'll be needing them...

Instead of looking down to check my shirt, I simply reach for the hem— raising it over my head, and turn to walk back behind the partition of his bedroom...

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