Shattering the Myth (22 page)

He took a step backward, letting my hand fall from his mouth, before replying, “I dunno about this. I could really get into a heap of trouble. I still have a lot of mail to deliver.”

“This will only take a second.” I moved aside and held the door open, leaving him no choice but to either bring it in or be rude by refusing me. I knew which one he would do even before he did. He came in the door reluctantly. I quickly closed and locked the door behind us and then went into the living room. I pointed at the couch. “Could you place it right over there?”

He set the large package down, and I noticed it was from my sister in California. I assumed it was the housewarming
present she'd been promising me over the phone for weeks. I was curious to know what it was, but I was more intrigued by something else at that very moment.

“There you go, ma'am.” He had one of those country-bumpkin voices. He couldn't have possibly have been from the D.C. area.

“Where are you from?” I asked seductively, letting my eyes drift down to the increasing bulge in his slate blue uniform pants.

“Alabama.”

Ummmmm, Alabama black snake!
“I've never seen you around here before. Are you new?”

He chuckled slightly, loosening up a bit. “This is my first week on the job.”

“I see. I figured as much, because I'm sure I would have noticed you before. This is my first time getting a package since I moved in here, though. I've never paid attention to whoever puts the mail in the box, but I know I wouldn't have missed your fine ass. I couldn't have.”

He started blushing something terrible. “Thanks, ma'am,” he replied, letting his eyes drift all over my nude body before narrowing in on my hard nipples.

“First of all, please don't call me ma'am. My name is Rayn.”

“Rain? Like the rain that falls?”

“Not exactly. It's spelled R-A-Y-N.”

Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead. I could tell he was eager to get his freak on, but he had no clue how to get started. He opted to try the coward's way out. “Listen ma'am, I me-me-mean Rayn, I really should be going.”

He turned and headed toward the door, but I grabbed him by the elbow. I walked up to him from behind and slid my
arms around his well-toned waist. “Before you do, care for a little afternoon sex?”

I could hear his breathing become shallow, but he didn't respond. I dropped my left hand below the belt and let my right one move upward until I was caressing his dick and one of his nipples at the same time. He was ready for me alright. Damn, was he ready!

“What's your name?” I inquired.

“Everyone calls me P.J.,” he managed to utter as I made my way around to the front of him.

He started trembling when I went down on my knees, unbuckling his belt on my way down. “Well, P.J.,” I said while I worked on getting his dick out of his pants, “I'm starving. I haven't had a thing to eat all day. Mind if I have a little snack?”

Again, no answer. Then again, I wasn't really waiting on one.

I hungrily took in the head of his penis, letting my tongue slide in and out of the slit. Some of his juices immediately started to escape. “Oh, damn,” he whispered. “Oh, shit,” I whispered back. Then I went for the gold. For the next thirty minutes, I sucked on him like he was royalty. He came the first time in less than five minutes, but I wouldn't let it go at that. I intended to teach his young ass how to last more than one time. That I did.

I could tell he had never been sucked off like that before. To be honest, I'm not sure I've ever given head so well before. Not to Richard. Not to anybody. That mere fact only served to motivate me.

After I deep-throated that bad boy until he came in my mouth three times, I glanced at the grandfather clock in the entry hall when the chimes announced it was three o'clock. Two more hours before Richard left his office. Damn, the possibilities!

We didn't exchange many words. Who needed them? I led
P.J. into the kitchen, climbed up on the table, and spread my legs. Eating pussy was something he obviously didn't need to be schooled on. He ate me out big-time. My clit was swollen by the time he got through with me, but it was the good kind of soreness. The kind that lets a sistah know she's been done right.

Richard's imminent arrival was barreling in on us, and I should have probably ended the escapade right then and there. I had yet to actually get fucked, though. I told P.J. to follow me up the stairs. He was at my service and would have done any and every thing I wanted.

We bypassed the master bedroom I shared with Richard and went into the guest bedroom. It was still in heavy stages of renovation. However, I chose that room for a particular reason, and I spotted it the second we entered. There was a huge antique mirror with an authentic bronze frame propped up over by the window. I purchased it at a flea market for a steal from an old woman who didn't realize what a treasure it was. I instructed P.J. to carefully lay it down in the middle of the floor on top of the tarp that was sprawled about because of the painting in progress. Richard planned to add another coat the following weekend.

P.J. still had on his uniform, even though his pants were halfway down. I wanted to see his ass naked. I demanded, “Take off all of your clothes.”

He complied in silence while I took my place on top of the mirror, getting down on my hands and knees. I wanted to do the doggy stroke. It's always been my favorite position. After he was naked, he joined me on the mirror. He was too fucking fine.

“Take this pussy, baby!” Once again, he complied, entering my pussy gently from behind. He began to stroke me slowly but I wanted him to fuck the living daylights out of me. I moved my hips back and forth on his dick to encourage him to intensify his efforts.

The real turn-on was watching it all take place on the mirror. I had been taken from the rear dozens of times without having the benefit of watching my lover. That day I could see it all. We both could. I love the way his fingers squeezed my nipples. The way his balls slammed up against the back of my thighs while his dick caught a rhythm. The way he gritted his teeth when I tightened my pussy around his shaft. That damn Thighmaster tightens up more than just thigh muscles.

I could tell he was seconds away from cumming when his eyes started rolling around in his head. I knew he came when his semen trickled down onto the mirror along with my own juices. After we were done, we laid there on the mirror with his head on my chest, trying to get our breathing under control. I heard the grandfather clock strike five. Richard would be on the way to his car in the underground garage. I had less than fifteen freakin' minutes to cover my tracks.

I got P.J. out of the crib with a quickness, promising him we would do it again sometime. He left out with a gigantic smile on his face. I don't know if he got in trouble because he delivered his mail late, but I'm sure he felt it was worth it. I wiped off the mirror with glass cleaner, propped it back up against the wall, broke out the air freshener, and sprayed the entire house. I turned on my potpourri Crockpot on the kitchen counter and threw a turkey breast in the oven. Then I jumped in the shower just long enough to wash the vital parts with a loofah sponge and my herbal body wash. I brushed and gargled before slipping into a pair of sweats and one of Richard's T-shirts just in the nick of time. He walked through the door ten seconds after I got to the bottom of the stairs.

“Did you have a productive day, sweetheart?” he asked me.

“Absolutely!” I chuckled. “Very productive!”

Several months have passed since I first met P.J. The house
is all fixed up now, and Richard is acting more romantic. Even so, about once a month I stand up in front of the bay window in my birthday suit when I see P.J. approaching the mailbox out front. It is our version of the bat signal. I call it the fuck signal. Those days are always interesting. As for that antique mirror in the guest bedroom—it gets put to a hell of a lot of use.

His name was Professor Vaughn Mason. To me, he was simply heaven on earth. I was lucky enough to be in his organic chemistry class my freshman year at State. I started lusting after him the first day of class. One glance into his captivating bedroom eyes, one flash of his charismatic smile, and I was hooked.

I used to daydream during his class lectures, undress him with my eyeballs, and wonder if he was a tender or rough lover. During one of our lab periods, I almost spilled a beaker of hydrochloric acid on my thigh. I'd lost my concentration, fantasizing about milking his dick with my mouth.

After freshman year, I didn't get to see Vaughn that often. A wave here, a smile there, an occasional greeting when we passed each other on the steps or in the halls of the Natural Sciences building. It was depressing.

Senior year rolled around, and purely by the luck of the draw, I ended up snagging his student assistant position. It was like winning the lottery. I would get to spend time with him,
talk to him privately, and maybe even brush up against him on the sly every now and then.

So there I was, his assistant, and excited as I could possibly be about it. Vaughn, who I never addressed by his first name to his face, was so dayum fione. He was about five-eleven, 180 pounds, deep chocolate with dark bedroom eyes, and had a sexy-ass bald head. His body, dayum, what I say except the man was cut and looked like his muscles were chiseled out of stone. If ever there was a man who could make a woman's pussy get wet by looks alone, he was the one.

I had just celebrated my twenty-first birthday during the summer. He was much older than I was, about forty, but I never asked. When a nucca is that fine, who gives a dayum about a number? He had never married, but he was shacking up with some nurse from the university hospital. Did I care? Hell, naw!

You can never control the way you feel. Which is why what happened just two weeks into the fall semester was beyond my control. Whenever I reflect on that day, I realize it was the single most erotic experience of my entire life—one that I wouldn't trade for anything in this world.

I remember it so vividly, like it was yesterday. Vaughn had a faculty meeting that morning. I stayed behind in the chemistry lab to grade some exams for him. I was sitting at his desk, grading papers, and my mind began to wander as usual. I imagined him and me alone in the lab as we often were, but instead of just going about the course of a normal day, he had me bent over his desk and was fucking me doggy-style from behind. The thought of it made my pussy so wet.

Even though it was mid-September, it was terribly hot that day. The form-fitting white button-down oxford shirt I had on with a navy above-the-knee skirt, white slouch socks, and a pair of Nikes was clinging to my breasts. I had the windows
ajar in the lab. The Natural Sciences building was one of the oldest on campus and without central air. The only real breeze in the room was coming from the box fan I had strategically placed on the top of one of the long laboratory tables.

The mere thought of his hands on me was driving me berserk. I masturbated in my dorm room all the time thinking about him, but on that particular day, I needed some fast relief and couldn't stand the thought of having to wait until I went home. I analyzed the whole situation like a silent movie in my mind. The faculty meetings would usually last at least two hours, and I didn't have a dayum thing to satisfy myself with. Unfortunately, I didn't tote my vibrator around in my book bag. I would have done anything to have it at that moment.

I locked the door to the lab and went to sit back down at the desk. I leaned back in the comfortable leather desk chair with the reclining back and swivel base. I closed my eyes and fantasized about him kissing me on my lips, and my hands suddenly became his hands. I caressed my nipples through the cotton of my shirt. They were ripe and hardened. I unbuttoned the top three buttons and pulled both of my nipples out so that they were protruding from my bra.

I licked my lips, fantasizing about Vaughn sucking on them one at a time. I threw one of my legs up on top of the desk and, pushing my underwear aside, began to finger my pussy. It was so hot and moist, longing to feel his tongue. I stuck one finger in at a time until I was working three of them inside. I still had my eyes closed. In my mind, Vaughn was feasting off my sweet, tender pussy.

Finger-fucking myself was pleasing, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to feel something deep inside my pussy walls. I took my fingers out and licked my pussy juice off them, savoring my own flava. I opened my eyes and took a quick survey of the
lab looking for something,
anything
, to use to fuck myself with.

Most of the items, like the microscopes and Bunsen burners, were out of the fucking question, but suddenly I spotted something that would do the trick. As I got up from the desk, I peeped the wall clock and realized that Vaughn hadn't even been gone a good hour. I assumed there was enough time to finish myself off. I walked over to the closest lab table to the front and retrieved a large test tube, one that held 500 ml, and went back to the desk, positioning my leg back on the desk.