Surrender

by “Moi”

For me, it all starts with you coming to my office for help with an essay assignment. You see that I’m nervous, agitated, you see that I’ve very self-consciously left the door open, you see that my body is a little too tense, that I’m controlling my posture a little severely.

You’re pretty, you’re sexy, and you’ve seen this before. Lots.

For an older but “not quite dead yet” man, you have no idea what it is like to be so close to such beauty, such promise, and such openness. You can tell that I”m trying NOT to look at you, trying NOT to be drooling and awkward inside. My job, no, my vocation — is to help and empower — but boy oh boy, with your lithe body this close my desire, in all honsety,  is to dominate and objectify. I so want you. I want to throw you on my desk and fuck you and fuck you. All my life I’ve waited for you, waited for the chance to be with you and year after year only loneliness and self-hatred have visited me. I wonder, as I look at you, your bright life and your luscious lips, the curve of your warm, nubile breasts, I wonder if you have any idea of the depth of what you provoke in me — more or less innocently, just by being here. I wonder if you have any idea how many times I’ve masturbated in this office, dreaming that you were here, lowering your eyes in sweet surrender, and responding to my every command.

You’ll be used to be with very excited, ardent guys, I’m sure, but know this: I will appreciate you like you are sip after sip of the finest of wines in all the world. I’ll know that each moment might be my last with a woman of your breathtaking beauty and stirring sensuality. You will be what I will remember as the lights begin to fade, as I turn to walk away. You know this. You know this just from being within a few feet of me. You don’t know it in words, perhaps, but you sense it, you sense it from the unwavering black hole of my desire for you.

I’m so rattled, so ashamed. You’re so young and vital, and I never meant ever to be this needy, almost predatorial. I need you to go.

You rise, but your pen falls on the floor. You stoop ever so lingeringly to pick it up. You feel my eyes glued to you. You even know where I’m looking. The hidden crack of your ass, the inside of your thigh — the gentle arch of the side of your ribs, the place where my hands would go if they could snake around you, seize your breasts and pull you onto my throbbing cock. I feel every ounce of a cold routinized bed at home on my shoulders. I can hardly breathe.

“Let me give you my email address so that you can email me that article,” you say.

“Ok,” I say, and I think, “no harm in that” is what I think.

You come around to my side of the desk, and you bend forward exquisitely, and write on the blank notepad in front of me…. “Anything I do here, I do as an adult, and of my own free will, and with no expectation of reward or recompense.” And you sign and date it. ”For you and your lawyer,” you say, mischievously.

I am looking at you with the eyes of a starving man, and fingertips that are aching to tear you apart. Your eyes flash. You lean forward again, even more seductively, and I watch the pen move along the paper.

“If I lock the door,” you write, “what will you do to me?”

You hand me the pen, drop your hand onto my throbbing crotch. I could cum just from that if I pressed back into you, but I don’t want to do that just yet.

I write “I’ve never had a blowjob.”

You laugh unexpectedly, and look kinda shocked. You’re caressing my crotch, and I’m becoming suddenly conscious of my open door and the sounds in the hallway.

You take the pen, and spread your legs a little wider, leaning forward deliciously again. I feel the weight in your breasts shifting as you move. Somehow the pen in your hand starts to write. Even your wrist is beautiful. “I like it kinda rough,” says the pen. “Do you think you could throat-fuck me?”

Somehow another pen has leapt into my hand.

“Close and lock that fucking door,” it writes, all by itself.

“And then come over here and get on your knees,” I whisper.

Dear Heavenly God, dear woman, dear song of my aching human heart, my forgotten despised body. Ty for being here, for answering a lifetime of prayers and repudiations. Forgive me for losing faith, for starting to think that it was never going to happen.

“I’m going to take you every way I can,” writes the pen, moving erratically in excitement, distraction. As you’re heading calmly towards the door, I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that after I cum down your throat I want to lick you to oblivion, and then watch my cock slide in and out of you as you’re bent over my desk, and pull out and then cum on your lips again. And then how do I tell you that probably my deepest, most wanton desire, is to have you stand before me, turned towards the wall, reaching back and spreading yourself open for me. Maybe you could masturbate a little for me in that position – I’ve never seen a woman do that before. I want you to sense me rising and moving towards you. Then let me tell you how  I want you to beg me to slide my hot, roiling remorseless cock into your ass. I want this gift, this taboo, this sweet, tight and intimate surrender. I wonder how I’m going to tell you that.

Maybe you’ll just find ways of your own to tell me.