Infatuation by dandeliondreams@hotmail.com

Infatuation

"Jill, could you go into the storage room and look for some more newspapers? We're running out."

I snapped out of my lustful daydream and glanced up at the source of the interruption. "Yeah, sure," I replied. I stood from my chair in the art office and dug the storage room keys out of Mr. G.'s desk drawer.

"I'm not sure where it is, so you'll have to look around," Mr. G. added over his shoulder as he headed back into the classroom full of students.

I sighed. That could take years. I wandered out of the office and through the classroom to the door in the back. I had to hold in a groan as I passed by Roy, whom I had been fantasizing about just moments before. My gaze was averted, afraid he would know what I was thinking if he looked at me.

Once I was safe inside the storage room. I peered through a hole in the construction paper that covered the small window on the door. Roy's back was to me. He was doing paper mache and his hands glistened with the glue.

A shudder ran through me and I realized how hot I was. With a little grin I locked the door and made my way to the back of the room. There, under some junk, was a big overstuffed chair that was used on occasion in the drawing classes. I shoved the miscellaneous items off of it and plopped down, my hands going to my jean zipper instantly. Soon my right hand was slick with my juices and my left hand tweaked my nipples, one after another. I alternated between jamming three fingers up my cunt to frigging my clit so fast my hand had to have been blurry. It wasn't long before I was on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm. My teeth sank into my lower lip, stopping the cries of pleasure that tried to escape. I came down slowly, my breath ragged.

A picture of Roy popped into my head. To me, he was gorgeous, but I was infatuated. To others, he was just another guy. He was about 5'9", two inches taller than me. His hair was dark brown, almost black, kept just to his ears. A wisp of it always strayed down his forehead, no matter how hard he tried to make it stay. His eyes were a shade of green I had never seen anywhere else. When he looked at me through his wire-rimmed glasses (that I found incredibly sexy), I felt as if he could read my deepest thoughts.

I stood from the chair and went to look at myself in the mirror, composing my emotions.

I was a sight. At 5'7" and 110lbs, my curvaceous figure got quite a bit of attention. I could easily pass for 20, although I had turned 18 only a week before. I had copper curls to my shoulders and bright blue eyes not unlike the color of the ocean on those "It's here, wish you were beautiful" postcards you can find at any tourist-ridden-town-on-the-shore. My wardrobe consisted of worn jeans that hung on my smallish hips and tank tops that clung to my luscious frame. I had a small silver loop through my bellybutton and three tattoos marking my flesh, two of which were hidden at this moment in time. The third, a flower relating to my favorite band, Green Day, peeked out from in between the bottom of my tank top and the frayed top of my jeans.

I took a deep breath and unlocked the door. "Sorry Mr. G., I can't find any, but the day's over anyway. I'll look more tomorrow....."

****

"Fear nothing/Lips turning blue/So quiet/Whispering sex to you/Far too busy for me to ignore/Skin crawling/I want you to be my whore/A look so pretty/So fucking pretty/I know you're ready to give me more..."

Jeff Scheel's voice blaring out of my car as I approached Roy fifteen minutes later was no fluke. I had happened to notice that his t-shirt that day displayed a Gravity Kills logo.

He was walking down the street towards what I assumed was home, and I, being such a kind and caring person, decided to offer him a ride. How could he say no? I flashed him a killer smile and a peek at my favorite possession: my marble bowl which conveniently was fully-packed, the dried green buds smelling like candy.

So, of course, like any horny teenaged druggie, he accepted my offer. Idle chit-chat passed between us as we made our way to his house. He mentioned that no one was home, so we could match once we got to his place. How nice of him to share.

He took a hit and sputtered out the words "I got some flame for a great price."

This caught my interest and I grinned at him as he passed the bowl to me, smoke seeping up through the thin layer of ash that covered the top. "Wonderful," I said, and meant it. I took a subtle hit at a stop sign and handed the bowl back to him. No sooner than that bowlful was gone, we arrived at Roy's house.

His room looked as if a hurricane touched down, and we collapsed on what might have been his bed. He pulled a little baggie out from underneath a pile of clothes, but I put a hand on his arm. "Not yet," I said quietly. "After I fuck your brains out."

He smiled, nodded, and replaced the baggie of lung candy where it had come from. I lunged for him, knocking him onto his back and began to ravish him with kisses, licks, nibbles, anything. His skin had the faint smell of soap and his mouth tasted sticky-sweet. I worshiped him through the touch of my tongue and fingers.

I stripped him and he returned the favor, paying special attention to my aching nipples. His mouth slid down to my breasts, tasting them briefly before moving lower. He ate me out like a pro-First slipping his tongue inside me, then pushing one, two, three fingers inside me while nibbling on my clit...I didn't last more than five minutes.

As soon as I recovered from his ministrations, I knew I had to taste his beautiful cock. To me, going down on a guy is much more intimate than intercourse-not that I don't like to fuck--plus Roy's dick was absolutely gorgeous and my mouth watered at the sight of it.

I dropped butterfly-soft kisses all along the sensitive skin around the dark tendrils of coarse hair surrounding his dick, eliciting a soft moan from him. I moved up to the bulbous head and lapped at the pulsing red tip a few times. He whimpered when I ran my tongue down the rigid shaft and teased his balls. That's another thing about giving head to a guy-you have such control over him. You have the power to bring him over the edge into a brief oblivion where all he feels, hears, tastes, smells is pleasure. Pure, sweet pleasure. Maybe I'm just a control freak, but I love knowing that I can have influence over a fragile thing such as life.

"Oh, God, Jill...." He trailed off into a low growling moan.

Almost reluctantly, but not quite, I licked my way up his sweet flesh, over a pinkish nipple, along his jawline, past his lips, across his cheek, and to his ear. In between nibbles on his earlobe, I whispered, "Fuck me," in a lustful gasp of air.

"Thought you'd never ask," he said, and with that he rolled me onto my back.

My thighs parted, longing to have him in the hot void between them. He did, and not a second too soon (but almost too late). His throbbing prick slid into my cunt. He was so soft and so hard all at once. My hands whispered across his back, over his shoulders, and down his chest. Passionate mewling sounds filled the air and it took a minute before they registered in my head as my own. Wow. I had never felt like this before. I'd fucked and sucked countless guys, but none of them every got to me in this way. I came twice before I felt him tense up. A moment later his liquid essence burst into me, filling me to the rim. Salty pearl drops spilled out of me, even as he thrust in again.

He collapsed next to me and it wasn't long before I was curled into his side, passing him the joint he had clumsily made after catching his breath.

If this is infatuation, I can live without love.

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