You’re coming back from the weekend break. You’re walking into last period, which was English, and you see a tall, slender figure standing over the teachers desk, scrolling through his iPhone. You wonder if he’s a new student, but then you notice that your usual teacher isn’t around. You take a seat in the back corner of the room, since English is your best class, you don’t really need to pay much attention.
As class begins, you lean back in your seat.
“My name is Mr. Styles,” says the guy, still hovering over the desk. “I’m the teacher for the rest of the year. It seems that your previous teacher has moved cities.”
You feel your stomach flutter with butterflies, as Mr. Styles has an accent. An English /British accent, to be exact. It was deep and silky, definitely the voice you wanted to hear every single time you woke up. He had soft, brown, curly hair with light green eyes. His smile was contagious and his laugh was precious.
You felt instant attraction to him. You could only imagine of doing stuff with him, yet it was highly inappropriate and it could get him fired.
Class ended and as you exited the room, you could feel Mr. Styles’ eyes on your back the whole way out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was about a month after Mr. Styles had come, and you knew your feelings had only grown from him.
The bell rang and you picked up your binder and other things. You saw a pale hand on your desk and you looked up.
“Mr. Styles? Is there something you need?” you asked and looked up into his beautiful green eyes.
He looked over his shoulder, where two students lingered to pack their belongings into their bag. “I, um, need you to stay behind and pick extra work up. You’re quite behind.” he says rather loudly and you look at him, confused.
“My best marks are in this-” he slaps a hand over your mouth.
“Shh..” he hisses and shuffles over to his desk and waits for the students to leave.
Eventually, you walk over to Mr. Styles’ desk. “What was that all about?”
He walks over to the door and puts a “Do Not Disturb - Testing In Progress” sign on the door and a big sheet of black paper over the window.
“Mr. Styles?” you whisper, your throat becoming dry. You feel your fingers beginning to tremble.
“It’s quite obvious how you look at me,” he says, his accent deeper than usual.
You swallow a lump that has formed in your throat.
“Your point?” you manage and you set your binder down on his desk.
“My point is,” he pauses and comes around the desk towards you. He’s awfully close and you can smell aftershave on his face. His chest meets yours and you inhale. “My point is that its making me want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone,”
You feel butterflies creeping into your stomach again, fluttering around. “I want you so bad,” he whispers and his lips press into yours, starting soft at first, but then he immediately begins to take your shirt off. His touch is warm on your bare skin and you look up at him.
“This is wrong, Mr. Styles,” you whisper, but it felt so right.
“Harry,” he breathes. “Call me Harry.”
You feel him take your fingers and push them to his zipper, which you pull down as he studies your face patiently. Your fingers immediately pull down his jeans, and his grey boxers are tented. You stare at his lips and he kisses you as you begin to palm him through his boxers. He bites your lip playfully and he unhooks your bra swiftly and the cold air attacks your skin. He sheds his shirt and presses his chest against yours, is skin warm and soft.
He yanks your jeans down and soon you’re both standing naked. He pushes you against the desk and you lean back onto it, propping yourself up with your elbows. His erection rubs against your inner thigh and you gasp at the touch, the tip of his length wet with pre-cum. He bends down and licks at your tenderly, leaving you swollen and aching for more.
“Lets see how much extra credit you’ll earn,” he smirks, and you gasp as he enters you. He goes slow, agonizing you with his length. He allows you to adjust before he increase the past, his face going into deep concentration as he pulls your hips closer so your legs are hanging off the desk. His fingers hold you up so he can push himself farther in, the tingling sensation in your body coming fast.
“You’re…so…tight,” he groans in between pants. He’s coming to his high fast.
“And you’re so good,” you moan.
His pace becomes sloppy and you realize he’s close. You moan, “Harry, oh, yes right there!” you scream as he hits your g-spot, and he continuously hits the spot, making your back arch as you orgasm. You feel yourself clench around his erection and he groans as he releases, you both hitting your high at the same time.
He nips on your neck and leaves a few love bites, pulling out.
He passes you your clothes and pulls his on quickly, then turns and helps you with yours.
“I think you should come in for daily tutoring sessions,” he says, catching his breath still as he buttons up your top, kissing you once again.
