The Bad Teacher and Him (Rated R)

Chapter 3

I couldn't concentrate. All I could think was 'I f*cked my student, ew gross' and 'how the f*ck is he eighteen years old! No one gets hit by puberty that f*cking hard!!!' So basically what I was thinking on repeat was the word 'f*ck' and it was a damn good word to accurately describe my situation.

These are supposed to be my students. The thought of even one of them seeing me naked made me feel gross. But I had felt Hunter pound into my body ruthlessly and give me a night to remember. Now I find out he's five damn years younger than me and my f*cking student!

I could feel his burning gaze travel up and down my body, clad in the leather outfit with a high thigh cut and tight crop top. I hated this situation, but the images of him ravishing my body; his huge, hard muscle rubbing against my supple skin and his thick, long c*ck ruining me for every guy kept running through my mind.

I wanted to cry. I just wanted to scream like a girl for once and throw a tantrum, throw things around furiously and then fall into a hot crying mess. Instead, I was in class with my co-tutor at the front with me, my best lay ever sitting at the back with the students and students telling me their name, favourite food, and an interesting story. I had to keep it together, as if he wasn't sitting in front of me, making me feel weak and needy.

I tried to listen to each of them, I really did. I was deteriorating in my destructive thoughts and I needed an escape. A few times the story of an animal attacking them, the story of them falling off the stage, the story of the most daring thing they did and the story of the time they did the stupidest things after they got drunk were good, so thankfully my mind was distracted as I listened attentively.

I laughed at some of the very good ones like when Brad and his mates got drunk at a small party at one of their houses and after one point none of them remember a thing. But the next day Brad woke up half-naked in the house of some other guys he didn't know. Thankfully they were still sleeping so he gathered his belongings and left without a word. He said he'll never know what happened at that house.

The funny drunk stories were the most popular and the funniest; like the one where another group of friends went to a party and one of the guys got glow sticks, held them between his fingers and said he was Wolverine looking for Magneto, his friend had a bowl on his head and pretended to be Magneto. The same group of friends had that girl that I described before who looked tom-boyish and hung out with the boys who were straight before that night but got drunk and kissed so many girls. She was now bisexual and quite happy.

The stories funny but I could help my mind from spiraling back into this frenzy of panic. What if he told someone? I needed to talk to him. But I didn't want to, I wanted to forget it and put it behind us. I was not going to admit f*cking an eighteen-year-old at twenty-three, especially when my thing is I like guys 1 to 5 years older than me. Guess that ship has sailed. My f*cking range is -5 to 5. Why did I have to sleep with him!

It was finally Huner's turn to share his story, so bright eyes and smiles turned to face him. He lifted the corner of his mouth into a smile and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk, making his muscles flex and strain under that suit. I was a big time sucker for guys in suits with stubble.

That was it, the ultimate button to turn me on: fitted suit, muscles, a nice British accent not the 'cockney' or 'chav' accent a lot of guys seem to be taking up, a nice cologne and a stubble. It was everything I wanted in a guy. If he goes to this school he was clearly intelligent and rich, not that I cared. I didn't do relationships so I didn't give a fuck about personality. But I felt like if I did get to know him, I would probably enjoy his company. But that sure as hell was not going to happen. I am not going to 'get to know' my student that I f*cked. Even though I knew I needed to get over this soon and act normally with him, as his teacher.