It may be the presence of a Cuban heel on black silk stockings , seams traveling over the back of shapely legs like a path to the impossible heavens. Or perhaps it is the end of a cigarette touching luxurious glossy lips made in dark red. This was the picture presented to the eyes.
A face turns right, an lips taking the inhale of her cigarette. Back made bare by a hair-do held up by pins into a messy bun with a French flair. Tendrils of black tresses falling off the hairstyle, a few in satin swivels that barely teased over the skin. The femme fatale stands as a statue of desire, enticing fire to the eyes, holding a dreamy pose.
Tip of a stiletto in black leather steps forward, she moves in a fiery sashay across the floor.
The wicked woman wears nothing, a bawdy perfection of bare skin, silk stockings, a waist cincher corset of black satin.
One hand to a hip and the other one still bringing a cigarette to her lips. Steps make a circular path like a delicate tango. And you are the person taking this all in.
She shows you a moment of vulnerability. A relaxed pose - a sweet smile. Then she walks away from you, elegant stride and swaying hips. She stops in front of a tall window and she leans back against an exposed brick wall. You are both inside a loft in Dumbo, Brooklyn.
Her face turns to look outside the window and then in front of her. She lets a snake of smoke travel out of her mouth and unto the atmosphere before it is exhaled completely out. An arm comes behind her body to touch the wall, furthering the arch of her back and the stretch of her chest out, chin kept up in nonchalant haughtiness. In the current pose she exposes more of her curves, torso and breast against the panorama of the Brooklyn Bridge and the city beyond.
Listen folks…I will eventually write the fan-fic smut that this ad inspired—but please fan-fic + smut writers of Tumblr DO NOT leave me alone in this mission!
No one knows about us yet. Maybe no one should know about us.
Certainly, my mother would have a heart attack with the appearance of a good Catholic she likes to maintain in front of others, even if only superficially. If my mother knew I was dating my little sister’s teacher - she would probably beat me like the bad old days. She would probably also have Veronika’s head on a platter. Or as I like to call her Ms. Santos. Six years ago she was also my teacher.
I recently met with her on a Friday night to go out to a Happy Hour and let the night take us where it may. I entered the familiar 11th grade Biology classroom and it never faltered that I entered that room as if it were a church. I am presently a Senior at college and still it feels like yesterday when I would enter this room in torment. The minute I took a seat at the front of the class I felt captured by Ms Santos curves in that deadly tight pencil skirt, the accompanying stiletto heels and button white shirt.
That was then, and on this very recent day I cut the distance to where she stood, a tight-fitting dress of crushed velvet, high heels and fishnet tights.
She offered her dark gaze with a little smile. “Denise…are you here for some extra credit?” She welcomed me to her classroom like this when she wanted to be extra tempting. When I came close her hands fell to both of my hips, resting on the waist of my pants and pulling me closer. I submitted to anything she wanted and let her lead me anywhere. My own arms framed her waist and I greeted her with a tender kiss. Still a secretive kiss in this classroom. We always played these edgy games of semi-pda in school grounds. I grinned and replied, “Are you ready?”
Her grin beamed and I took in how beautiful she looked, my beautiful goddess of a woman who I had adored during my student years. I still couldn’t believe the mysterious pull that had us here now.
And I also couldn’t believe something I was doing for her this evening. For you see, Ms. Santos had asked me a rather curious question not long ago.
---
“I don’t know if this is a strange question for you…but I’m curious about something.”
“Yeah…”
“So do you…pack?”
I almost spat out my Coke. Even though Ms. Santos had fully emerged herself in her bisexuality with me, I had not really expected her to be this deep into the ins and outs of sapphic sexuality. It did surprise me that day. I also knew this was really new for her because anyone in the community would take one look at me and would have known I didn’t pack. To heterosexual outsiders I looked manly. Looking closer I present real tomboy, with my gender neutral or sporty clothing. For me, I’m just a woman dressing and presenting in the clothes she is more comfortable in.
“Uh…no…”
My tone made her realize she had asked a somewhat inapplicable question of sorts.
“Oh, sorry…I didn’t know what, or who…you know.”
I grinned, “It's not a big deal…”
A pause and then I looked at her curiously with a frown. “Did…did you want me to?”
“Oh, I’m just curious…it sounded…interesting, I guess”
“…you're really curious, aren’t you?”
“Well yeah because you have used strap-ons so, I didn’t know if it translated.”
I cracked up at that. She looked perplexed at me.
“What…?”
---
And so back at the date night, when Ms. Santos snuggled me closer to her wearing that barely there velvet dress.
“Oh, you really are packing tonight.” A secretive smile appeared as I pressed even closer to her, teasing her thighs and pelvis. Surprised at how heavy her intake of breath sounded, and the little whimper that escaped with her sigh.
“And you really like this.” I grinned, looked at her flushed skin and her face with her lustful expression.
“Yeah…it reminds me of other things we do.”
My lips drifted over her jawline and connected with her throat. Hungry kisses traveled to her neckline, and her breath became even heavier. If we kept going, we would want to leave this classroom straight into a bedroom. Her arch against the classroom counter was beautiful.
“I’m really going to enjoy dancing with you packing.”
“Mmm…yeah?”
“Mmmhmm…How do you feel though?”
“Well…it’s not my style, it’s like…it’s a bit of fetish dress-up, I guess. But…” I kissed her mouth softly, my hands rubbing against that luscious swell of her ass. “I like doing it for you.” She grinned at this; I knew she loved when I pleased her. “And I also like having something that will remind you, how hard I get for you.” I saw this while grinding more against her pelvis. She closed her eyes with visible arousal and then grinned amused at my teasing.
“Good, I’m glad you are into it. Even if just for a few hours, if it's too uncomfortable.”
“I chose a pair of pants that make it a bit easier.”
At this she chuckled and wrapped her arms around my neck, offering another kiss. I returned her kiss with smiling lips. When she parted with the kiss, her forehead touched mine and she hovered in this closeness.
“One of these days we are getting so caught.” I said with a low chuckle.
She chuckled as well, but then paused to add. “Do you care if we get caught? Do we have to care?”
That gave me a pause and I genuinely gave it a thought. We had been sneaking around to meet each other for most of the year during the weekend when I could pause my college studies. “I am a bit worried about my mother…” I really wish I didn’t have to remind her that she was still a teacher in my sister’s school. I had a feeling that this answer would disappoint her.
“Yes of course, and…you are an alumnus of my class. I guess it is still complicated.”
Even in this particular moment, hearing that she used to be my teacher stirred my need for her. I kissed her cheek. “How can I make it up to you, Teach?”
“Well. If we have to be in the dark, then let’s be…”
---
I remember those days as a student of hers when she would encourage me if I was down. I felt a rush of blood all over me even when she smiled at me. Even when she slightly patted my shoulder. One day Ms. Santos gave me a friendly hug to wish me a good spring break, and I know I melted into it. I wonder if she ever figured out why I held her a second longer. Maybe she didn’t notice back then.
I would have never imagined that same teacher would be with me at the club one night. Dark room, with red mood light and dry ice smoke. Her wallet and lipstick were in my pants pockets. Both of us holding a flute of champagne, hanging against a mirrored wall- and I swear, I thank God that bumping and grinding had been in fashion for some time. Ms. Santos had that luscious ass all over my pelvis like she invented making it clap in the 90s. The woman would have made millions as a stripper. I loved that I had some extra package to tease her with. She really was so much woman in one person- long hair, shapely legs and the curves of her breasts perky in a push up bra. At the end of her twerking she leaned all the way back against my chest and turned her head to the side to find my mouth. There I was with my teacher, hand around her waist, fingers aching to dip into her bra to squeeze her nipples. And Ms. Santos was there kissing me- french open mouth kiss, deep, breathing heavy and relaxing in my arms. Her ass pressed deliciously against my pack and my hips again- “You are going to put all that in me Baby?” — it may sound strange to anyone, but I loved her treating me like her man, her woman, her student and her lover all at the same time.
“Yes...”
She turned to face me and our legs laced together, thighs kissing and hips pressing as she undulated. It was the closest we had been in a public space.
“You are getting really hard for me Baby?” She speaks close to my ear.
“Oh yeah…”
I so wanted to reach between her thighs and fuck her right there on the dance floor. But I kept it legal for a few hours till we were ready to go.
---
We rushed to her apartment and the minute the door closed we were on top of each other, kissing lips, undoing clothes with desperation. I adored this woman and how hot every layer of her looked as I undressed her, and she undressed me. The velvet dress peeled off easily and she was left there arching against a wall – black lace push up bra, lacy G-string, fishnet stockings. Even in her lacy underwear I worshiped her thighs, over the lace of her panties, my hands wrapping around her hips. I didn’t last in this prayerful position for too long though because soon I was leading her back to the bedroom.
Every contact was heightened to some new degree I had not felt with her before. We fell on the bed and she straddled my lap, teasing up and down that bulge in my pants and I loved every second of it even if it was all new to me. I pulled down her bra and my mouth closed around one breast licking and suckling the nipple until it was so hard, then moving to the next one and suckling while moaning for her.
“You always wanted this Baby…” She shivered with those words, and I whimpered even more because even back when I was sixteen I had no idea of what this would entail, I knew the heat of the present moment traveled from a hormonal yearning born in that classroom. She kept grinding her covered pussy against my bulge and I kept licking and picking at the hooks of her bra. I rolled over on top of her to undress her legs from the fishnets, and then slowly pulled down her panties to tease her. As I pulled at that little fabric I smirked and met her eyes. She tried to smile back but her need had her gasping for breath again. I made my way up and feathered a kiss to her mound, then traveled upward again to her mouth for one last kiss before I made a trip back down.
This was when she rolled me over again and before I knew it she had her knees on both sides of my face and opened her legs wide, pussy opening for my mouth and tongue. I groaned loudly, and her fingers closed lightly pulled my hair in a fist. I loved that like this I could eat her up but she could also fuck my mouth. I loved that she was on top of me. I loved that her juices ran down straight into my throat. She was merciless in her loud moans – her topping of me. Feeling as I once did with her on top and me sitting in my classroom seat. The thought had me moaning and moving my tongue faster and faster in circles and laps. My teacher, my woman who I worshiped, tasted delicious. Again, I heard her.
“Oh God Baby, you always wanted this…I could tell but I didn’t want to see it.”
I groaned, I accented in admission somehow mumbling “Mmmhmmm” right there against her clit and she exploded right there from the inside out, grinding down, almost suffocating me – and the more difficult it was to breath the more I moaned in my own arousal. She traveled down with shaky moves but then gathered strength from I don’t know where and crawled down to pull down my shorts, and from God knows where, she pulled out our dildo, and replaced my pack with our erect toy. From the same hiding spot came the bottle of lubricant and she then straddle my hips to slide the cock in. I was still so breathless.
“Oh Baby I’m so full of you…I…” She moved her hips up and down, expertly riding that cock until the second orgasm came and her body was shocked and trembling, I’m sure the neighbors heard her scream. I was finally able to get some control of my limbs and used her to roll us around. But she then pulled a bit aways from me to land on the propped pillows. I knew she wanted us to be as face to face as we could be. I entered her again and started a smooth thrusting rhythm to build her back up slowly. I kissed her and she moaned, tasting herself on my lips. I then started moving faster, getting her ready to cum for me again. Getting ready to make her cum. I felt weak and powerful at the same time for her.
“Baby call out my nickname…”
“Oh Teach…”
“Oh my God…”She shivered and looked at my eyes. Legs wrapped around me, and my body moved at the same time as my thrust. “Baby say it!”
“I wanted you, Teach. I fucking wanted to fuck you in that classroom.”
“My God…” Loud screaming moans as her release sent that shock that I felt all the ways to my hip, all the spasms that pressured the dildo and made resistance against my moves. Knowing that pussy walls were squeezing the dildo made me cum with her right on the spot.
We were a shivering sweaty mess when I kissed her finally. Her arms held and she kissed me between panting breaths. “You love me Baby…?”
She was driving me crazy in her want of my confessions tonight. I knew that years and years of loving her were pouring out of me when I said in shaky breaths. “I love you Ms. Santos…” She took a deep breath full of emotion and shook out the rest of her post orgasmic state. She pushed me to roll on top of the mattress and grabbed the dildo-harness shorts to slip it all off. She came on top of me to lather my mouth in kisses and licks. My lips parting to indulge her tongue with my own. She then brought my wrist over my head and pressed them down to hurt me into submission.
“And if I say you are mine…and fuck the world…you are going to tell everyone right?”
Panting I nodded. “Yes…” How could I not please her? I had to step up to love my Goddess. And she grinned at that answer and began her travel down my body with lapping tongue over my breasts, nipples, torso. A journey down my body that only she could ignite. But what I loved the most was how she could turn going down on me into giving me head. She really opened her mouth, took my pussy as a cock, slipped her tongue up and down my clit as if she was traveling down a cock. Nothing made me feel more masculine than that and she knew it. She went wild up and down, and lapped her tongue, circled my clit while bobbing her head up and down. She had said enough times how she loved my taste, my wetness, my scent. I could tell with every lick. Any second I would let go against her mouth. My hands then closed around her hair too, grabbing it even if not as hard as she did mine. I loved that moment where it was me taking her mouth. Just as the tension in my clit was mounting – the words poured out of me.
“You are being so bad, Teach…”
She moaned against my pussy with arousal and I let go of my rushing cum, juices gushing against her jaw, and neck. She lapped at all the wetness until I begged her to pause her moves or I could scream. She always left me so damn sensitive, but delicious and spent. Like a snake she slithered up my body, and her arms cradled me against her chest. We both gasped for breath together.
My voice came out semi breathless.
“I need you Teach…”
She kissed my hair, and nuzzled my forehead. “I love you my Pet…”
I had waited since I was sixteen years old to hear those words. I could die happy that night.
—
To read more about Veronika and Denise - and many other stories like them, check out “NYC Confessions”
I think all of Rhaenyra's siblings should be weirdly obsessed with her and desire her carnally because it'd be really funny for Alicent and Otto to have to deal with realizing how badly they've fucked this whole thing up.
Her favorite song. She loved it while I played the melody on my guitar. In that Williamsburg apartment with that clear view of the water and Manhattan, the vintage aesthetic of a brick wall, an electric fireplace under a mantel, the candlelight all around us. The red wine had been poured and I looked at my muse while playing my guitar. She had slowly walked, body bare of all clothing. Black curls framed her face and fell over her shoulders. Face, skin tone, brown eyes, and hair of a Moroccan woman who lived in Southern Spain. Her presence made you feel Andalusia. The ancestors of my own Cuban people. People would see us and say that our hair and our skin tones were made to be married to each other, and make beautiful children.
The guitar was the common thread between her story and mine. My guitar, and her flamenco dancing that was sweeping New York City into European dreams and visions of Sevilla.
My muse came towards me, toned body was naked and natural. Her bare feet pristine over our floor and the Persian rugs. She ended up kneeling lovingly in front of me…”
It’s like all the people Yerr.nyc talks about on Instagram - in Sexy Version.
The neighborhoods of the five boroughs are sizzling with stories people hardly ever touch. Million of us pass me by every day but a few souls dared to enter my confessional. Sometimes they want their voices to be heard, and others want to be lost in the third-person narrative. Yet, these New York City residents had something in common, they want their real sensual stories to not be swallowed in the grinding hustle of this electric city. Heterosexual, LGBTQ, from every walk of life - these stories come to you as diverse as the people from the Big Apple. - 47 pages, collection of erotica short stories.
New York City residents bring you their deepest sensual confessions in a collection of short stories as diverse as the city that never sleep
