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Each nipple responded to the heat of his mouth, the implied danger in his teeth on my sensitive flesh. I shuddered and struggled out of my clothing. I found myself astride his hips leaning up to press my breasts to his mouth as his hands pushed me down on his lap. I could feel his cock under me and it was obsidian. To shift atop him drew involuntary whimpers from somewhere in my chest. My heart raced as I struggled to create space between us so I could release his button and draw back the zipper. My skirt gave reasonable cover to anyone passing close enough who we might not notice and the missing panties allowed me to slide down on him as soon as I was able to force his clothing aside. I felt him tense, relax, and tense again as his cock slid all the way in. I leaned back slightly and his hands captured my shoulders to allow distance between us but only at the top. I worked my hips on his as my body leaned back. The stretching created ripples in my stomach that made breathing. The plan was simple: I would make Sean desire me in such a way he could not bear a moment without me. How would I do this, you readers ask. Well, I knew what it meant to adorn myself with clothing that would accent my best feminine features, but that was the way to trap drunken frat boys for a night of unworthy and deeply regrettable sex. Sean was an entirely different animal. I had to make myself seem unavailable and plain, as he made himself, and then he would see my true beauty. This is what I have found in my experiences with men of Sean’s sensibilities works better than any aphrodisiac in the world. The next time I walked into class, I clothed myself in jeans and an oversized blue button-up shirt I had stolen from a former conquest as asshole tax. I sat in my desk with my shoulder-length red-brown hair in a ponytail, showing off my long, graceful neck. I was subtle, yet sexual at the same time. The perfect bait for a guy, who I had discovered through a little research, was the.
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