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Authors: Lorna Landvik
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skeleton key in the lock.
“I’m glad you made it.”
“So what—” I began, but Kristi shut me up good by pushing me onto the padded chair behind the desk and climbing on top of me and laying a kiss on me so sweet I thought that if I’d died and gone to heaven, I didn’t mind dying and heaven was even better than advertised.
“Wow,” I said when she pulled her face away from mine, allowing me to finally inhale.
She smiled, and when it was sincere, there was no smile prettier than Kristi Casey’s.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she said, and delivering on her promise, she lowered herself to her knees. As I screamed to myself,
Is she doing what I think she’s doing?
she unzipped my fly, answering yes.
“Oh my, you’re all ready,” she said, freeing my boner from its cotton gate.
“Kristi, I—” I didn’t know what I was going to say, but it didn’t matter; any words, any coherence was literally swallowed up when Kristi took me in her mouth.
Every single sensor in my body was on high alert:
Kristi Casey’s giving me a blow job!
I leaned back in the chair, my eyes rolled back so far in my head I wouldn’t be surprised if I could read the advertisement for Bell and Howell projectors pinned to the wall behind me.
Kristi Casey’s giving me a blow job!
Could anything in the known world feel as good as those lips around my dick? It was as if all of me was submerged in velvet, in wet velvet, and my pelvis rose off the chair and back down again, wanting to plunge itself in that deep wet fabric.
“Oh God!” I shouted as her tongue darted along the tip of my cock. “
Oh, God!”
“Shh!” said Kristi, and immediately I obeyed; her mouth was needed for far better things than scolding.
My fingers were laced through her hair and when I came, my grip must have been pretty tight because the second thing she said to me was, “Ow! Next time don’t pull my hair, Joe.” The first thing she said, after sitting back on her haunches and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, was, “I sure hope that stuff’s not fattening.”
I laughed; I could have just as easily cried, sang, whistled, or yodeled, but laughter seemed the safest response to the unbelievable, fantastic, and glorious thing that had happened to me:
Kristi Casey just gave me a blow job!
“I’ll write you out a pass, Joe,” she said, standing up and brushing the knees of her bell-bottom jeans.
I laughed again; there was no language for what I was feeling, so laughter would have to do.
When I stood up, my legs felt as wobbly as if I’d been out on the rink all day and had just taken off my skates.
“What’ll you say?” I said, zipping up my pants. “‘Please excuse Joe from Calculus. Kristi Casey was giving him a blow job’?”
“If that’s what you want,” she said, scribbling something on a pink pad. She tore the small square off and handed it to me. It read:
Pls. xcuse J.A.—busy w/b.j.
Laughing—I was on top of the world; how could I not laugh?—I folded the paper and stuffed it in my back pocket as she wrote out another pass.
“Who do you have anyway?”
“Uh…Mrs. Gleason.”
“Well, if she asks—which she won’t—tell her you were helping Mrs. Moriarty for the book drive.”
“Where’d you get these?” I asked as she finished writing and handed me the new pass, which was marked only with a time and signature.
“They’re in every teacher’s desk,” she said, putting the remaining passes in her shoulder bag. She fluffed her hair with her hands. “How do I look?”
“How do you
look
?” I reached for her, wanting to answer her with a kiss, but she sidestepped me and opened the door.
“Hey, Joe—can you help me move a dresser tomorrow? Blake was going to help me, but he’s got to go straight to work after hockey practice.”
Although I’d preferred her to ask me to pledge my undying love (which I would have), I said sure. After what she’d done for me, I’d have moved a dresser, a
“I’m glad you made it.”
“So what—” I began, but Kristi shut me up good by pushing me onto the padded chair behind the desk and climbing on top of me and laying a kiss on me so sweet I thought that if I’d died and gone to heaven, I didn’t mind dying and heaven was even better than advertised.
“Wow,” I said when she pulled her face away from mine, allowing me to finally inhale.
She smiled, and when it was sincere, there was no smile prettier than Kristi Casey’s.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she said, and delivering on her promise, she lowered herself to her knees. As I screamed to myself,
Is she doing what I think she’s doing?
she unzipped my fly, answering yes.
“Oh my, you’re all ready,” she said, freeing my boner from its cotton gate.
“Kristi, I—” I didn’t know what I was going to say, but it didn’t matter; any words, any coherence was literally swallowed up when Kristi took me in her mouth.
Every single sensor in my body was on high alert:
Kristi Casey’s giving me a blow job!
I leaned back in the chair, my eyes rolled back so far in my head I wouldn’t be surprised if I could read the advertisement for Bell and Howell projectors pinned to the wall behind me.
Kristi Casey’s giving me a blow job!
Could anything in the known world feel as good as those lips around my dick? It was as if all of me was submerged in velvet, in wet velvet, and my pelvis rose off the chair and back down again, wanting to plunge itself in that deep wet fabric.
“Oh God!” I shouted as her tongue darted along the tip of my cock. “
Oh, God!”
“Shh!” said Kristi, and immediately I obeyed; her mouth was needed for far better things than scolding.
My fingers were laced through her hair and when I came, my grip must have been pretty tight because the second thing she said to me was, “Ow! Next time don’t pull my hair, Joe.” The first thing she said, after sitting back on her haunches and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, was, “I sure hope that stuff’s not fattening.”
I laughed; I could have just as easily cried, sang, whistled, or yodeled, but laughter seemed the safest response to the unbelievable, fantastic, and glorious thing that had happened to me:
Kristi Casey just gave me a blow job!
“I’ll write you out a pass, Joe,” she said, standing up and brushing the knees of her bell-bottom jeans.
I laughed again; there was no language for what I was feeling, so laughter would have to do.
When I stood up, my legs felt as wobbly as if I’d been out on the rink all day and had just taken off my skates.
“What’ll you say?” I said, zipping up my pants. “‘Please excuse Joe from Calculus. Kristi Casey was giving him a blow job’?”
“If that’s what you want,” she said, scribbling something on a pink pad. She tore the small square off and handed it to me. It read:
Pls. xcuse J.A.—busy w/b.j.
Laughing—I was on top of the world; how could I not laugh?—I folded the paper and stuffed it in my back pocket as she wrote out another pass.
“Who do you have anyway?”
“Uh…Mrs. Gleason.”
“Well, if she asks—which she won’t—tell her you were helping Mrs. Moriarty for the book drive.”
“Where’d you get these?” I asked as she finished writing and handed me the new pass, which was marked only with a time and signature.
“They’re in every teacher’s desk,” she said, putting the remaining passes in her shoulder bag. She fluffed her hair with her hands. “How do I look?”
“How do you
look
?” I reached for her, wanting to answer her with a kiss, but she sidestepped me and opened the door.
“Hey, Joe—can you help me move a dresser tomorrow? Blake was going to help me, but he’s got to go straight to work after hockey practice.”
Although I’d preferred her to ask me to pledge my undying love (which I would have), I said sure. After what she’d done for me, I’d have moved a dresser, a
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