My Fantasy about Sir

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Although nothing happened between us, "Sir" awoke my dragon within. Sir knew what I was doing, and what I wanted. He just never gave it to me, but in that act of denial, he gave me more than I could have possibly imagined. Here, in the exact words and images, is how I masturbated then about "Sir", and how I masturbate now. The only difference is a little refinement. I now take you back to my 15th birthday.....

 

You know, sir, I really, (what's the expression?) couldn't give a fuck about physics. Hmmm. Perhaps, though, I could if given the chance, give a fuck. Under the lab bench, and perched on that ridiculous little stool, I part my legs wide. I am looking at you, Sir. Can't you see? Don't you notice? I suck my pencil and twirl it around my mouth. Under the lab coat which, naturally, like the other girls, I haven't bothered to do up, my panties feel hot and sticky. My eyes roam over your body. Poor Rachael. You really don't like her much, do you? You are standing next to her now, over her, shouting at her. How dominating you are, Sir. How I would like you to dominate me too? Again, poor Rachael squirms on her stool, and again, you shout. As usual, poor little Rachael clamps her knees together and those of us who know her well know what has happened. I am wet too, but for an entirely different reason. I know my little pussy is swollen, wanting you. The sun glints on your wedding ring. Of course, you HAD to be married, didn't you? Did you fuck her last night, Sir? Did she spread her legs for you? Did you take her romantically, softly, gently, on a bed of rose petals, or did you ravish her, pulling her panties to one side and ramming yourself inside her? Oh Sir! Even the thought of you doing that to me makes my pussy flood. I know you could see up my skirt if you looked this way, Sir, but you never seem to notice me, like so many others before and since. So, emboldened, I reach between my legs. FUCK I am wet! I press a finger against the material and my panties slip inside my hole a little. Another press, and another. Even the girls either side do not notice me, although Claire sniffs the air and says in a whisper "Hmm. Someone needs to wash her cunt." And she nods. Not at me, but at Hazel, who is in the row in front of us. Hazel, with the reputation. Hazel, who, if the rumours are true is fucking one of the gardeners. How typical that Claire would not think for a moment that it is me! My eyes roam over Sir. And settle on his crotch. I am sure he is a little hard there. In fact, I think he likes shouting at poor Rachael, and, if I didn't know better, I would think he knows that whenever ANYONE shouts at her, she wets herself a little. Yes, he has a semi! How delicious. I touch myself again, this time worming the finger under the material to the sparse covering of pubic hair below. I tug my panties to one side, exposing myself fully, should he care to look. The scent, that unmistakable scent, floods from me and Claire's nose wrinkles again. My middle finger is dancing on my clit now and my eyes never leave him. Not for a second. He is naked now, advancing on me. His cock straining to deflower me. I spread my legs, and lean back on the lab bench and as he penetrates me, I cry out as my hymen tears. Then he is in me, fucking me, pounding me. He doesn't care about my pleasure, only his own, but he does not know how much pleasure he is giving me. He is back on his little raised platform now and the sunlight makes his bulge stand out further. Then, deep inside, I feel a flutter which rapidly becomes the rabid beating of the leathery wings of my dragon as she unfirls herself., There, in that lab, totally unoticed by anyone, I cum, imagining Sir doing me in the most vulgar and base fashion. How Sir could have had me then. How Sir could have me now. But now, as then, he does not know I exist.

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