Mislaffsalot
TMF Master
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This story was originally posted on the tickletheater.com website. Thought you all might enjoy it here as well.
FYI: This is a fictional story that involves characters over the age of eighteen. Enjoy, and reviews are welcome!
Johnny sat in the back of the room, hunched in his seat, swearing ripely under his breath. His sharp, blue eyes scanned the term paper that had been handed to him from his biology professor just moments ago. The bright red ‘F’ at the top of the page continued to stare back at him, taunting him, laughing at him, mocking him.
His stomach churned and rolled over. He couldn’t have failed. He worked damn hard on this term paper. Long nights spent studying and preparing, eyes red-rimmed and weary, downing coffee until his toenails turned brown, not to mention wreaking havoc on his social and sex life.
And all for what? All for nothing. No. Worse than nothing. All for a big, fat, red ‘F’.
And to top it off, this lovely failing grade would dip his GPA enough that he couldn’t play football. That was the lowest blow of all.
He looked up from the paper to see his professor, Miss Langdon, staring at him. When their eyes locked, Johnny was sure he saw a ghost of a smile cross her face.
Witch, he thought. She was enjoying this. She wanted him to fail, wanted him to suffer. She was sitting up at the front of the classroom, looking feeble and small behind her huge mahogany desk holding a fat, red marker. The marker she most undoubtedly used without restraint on Johnny’s paper.
Students began to file out of the room, signaling the end of class. They all may have been satisfied with their grades, but Johnny was far from giving up. Maybe his strong suit wasn’t biology, but he was known for his Golden Boy good-looks and charm. And he wasn’t ashamed to use them to his advantage. Miss Langdon didn’t know it yet, but she was about to fall victim to Johnny’s staggering appeal and Oscar-winning performance.
He rose slowly, making sure all the other classmates had left. He sauntered towards the front of the room, all long legs and easy stride. His blue eyes studied his prey carefully.
She was marginally pretty, he thought. Her fair hair swept up in a loose bun, dark eyes skewed behind librarian-style glasses, generous curves hidden inside square, unflattering clothes. Her full lips were unpainted, but the effect her slight smile had on him as she watched him come toward her caused a hitch in his step.
“Hello, Johnny,” she said brightly as he reached her desk. “Problem?”
“Actually, Miz Langdon, there is a problem. It seems you may have made a mistake while grading my term paper.”
“Mistake?” she asked innocently, taking the paper from him. Her eyes absently scanned the front page.
“Yes,” Johnny began, pouring it on thick. “I, uh, I worked really, really hard on this assignment, ma’am, and I don’t think the failing grade is fair.”
Miss Langdon set the paper down on her desk and looked up at her student. He was lean and long, and dark and strikingly handsome. His bulky sweatshirt hid the tones of his upper body, but she was sure his build was fit for a young, athletic boy with a football scholarship. “Hmm. Not fair, you say?” She tapped a finger to her lips.
Johnny didn’t want to resort to begging, but he would do just that if he could continue to play football. “Please, Miz Langdon. This grade means I can’t play ball. I have to play ball. My dad will kill me if—“
Miss Langdon held up a hand to stop his ramblings. She eyed him carefully, noting how his baby-blues took on a sad sheen and his lips pouted pitifully.
Oh, he’s good, she thought. Very good. If he only knew the game he was playing . . . and losing.
She feigned resignation and comfort brilliantly. “Alright, Johnny, alright.” She patted his hand affectionately. “Maybe we can work something out.” She grinned invitingly.
Johnny felt a tingle where her hand touched his. He looked at his college professor, really looked at her. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’d really appreciate it, Miz Langdon.” He noticed the none-to-subtle twinkle in the professor’s eyes and wasn’t quite sure if he could handle where this little discussion was headed. Sure, he loved the ladies as much as the next guy, but mixing it up with one of his professors was definitely new territory. But he started it and he sure as hell was going to finish it, no matter what Miss Langdon wanted from him.
“How about a make-up test then?”
“A make-up test?” That threw him off.
“Sure. Absolutely.” She enjoyed the confused look on his face. “I’m too busy to stay on campus after classes, but you can come to my place later tonight and try for a better grade on a make-up test. It’s up to you, Johnny. How badly do you want to play football?” That was the clincher and she knew it.
“What time do you want me to be there?”
Miss Langdon’s feral grin was blinding.
He stood in front of the door to Miss Langdon’s house trying to decide whether or not he wanted to knock. He could handle Miss Langdon, no doubt about that, especially if this test was going to be taken into the bedroom.
Johnny couldn’t help but smile at that. If that’s what Miss Langdon wanted, he had no doubt his so-called make-up test would grant him an ‘A’. But something about his professor made him just a bit wary. He was the charmer; he was supposed to be in charge of this situation. But he saw the look in Miss Langdon’s eyes earlier in the classroom. He may have underestimated her. Something about her quick willingness to give him another chance for a better grade made him cautious. Should he go inside and give his teacher the roll of her life, or cut his losses and run for the hills like her feline smiles made him want to do?
She didn’t give him that choice. The door opened to a sight that had Johnny swallowing a large lump in his throat.
Miss Langdon – or, Johnny mused, Miss Langdon’s sexy evil twin - stood in the doorway. Her blonde hair lay full and wavy over her shoulders. The tiny, black silk robe she adorned clung magnificently to the smooth curves of her physique. Her shoeless feet revealed bright red toenails, obviously painted to match her long, manicured fingernails. Her dark eyes were no longer hidden behind librarian-glasses, and her creamy skin glowed like sun-kissed honey.
Johnny felt his knees buckle as her slow molasses smile curved her luscious red lips.
“Hello, Johnny,” she purred. “Right on time.” Pleased with her student’s stupefied reaction, she took his hand and led him into the parlor. “Sorry for my appearance, dear. I just finished my bath. Here, let me take your jacket.” She slid his letterman jacket off his shoulders and down his arms with deliberate finesse. “Now, would you like something to eat or drink before we start your make-up test?”
Tongue-tied, Johnny simply shook his head.
Goodness, he was cute when he was flustered, Miss Langdon mused.
“Are you alright, dear? You seem a bit flushed.” She raised her palm to his cheek.
“No, I’m okay, ma’am.”
“Oh, quit it with the ma’am thing. And Miss Langdon is for the classroom. Call me Alexa.”
“Okay, Alexa,” he said it slowly, trying out the more personal name on his tongue.
She took a moment to study him. He was a few inches taller than she and out-weighed her by a good fifty pounds, but she could already tell that he would be no match for her. And that chased a thrill up her spine.
“Well then,” she sighed, running her fingers teasingly through his hair. “We might as well get started, don’t you think?” Alexa let her tongue roll across her lower lip and watched her prey’s pupils dilate.
“Yeah,” Johnny nearly groaned. “Might as well.” He reached for her, every other thought erased from his mind as he pulled her hard against his chest.
“My, my. What’ve we here?” she giggled as she reached underneath his sweatshirt to slide her hands up his back, and sighed contentedly as he trembled. “Are you hot for teacher, Johnny?”
“Hell yes!” And his mouth descended upon hers.
They struggled towards the bedroom, fumbling with zippers and buttons, mouths hungry for lips and bare skin. Hands wandered carelessly, causing moans and sighs to tumble helplessly from their mouths.
Johnny smiled eagerly as Alexa pushed him down onto the bed, barely registering the black spread and sheets, and the many candles burning throughout the dimly lit room. He was clad only in boxer shorts and she in a lacey red bra and panties. Must be Alexa’s favorite color, he thought absently. But when her lips roamed over his skin, he thought of nothing else but her; how she felt creamy and smooth as she pressed intimately against him, how her lips tasted cool and sweet as her mouth ravished him, how her tiny, delicate hands worked feverishly over his body and up his arms, and then feeling the slight tug of silk around his wrists . . . his wrists?
He pulled his mouth from hers, still dazed by her intoxicating ministrations. He didn’t register what had happened until she sat up astride him, her wicked grin spread from ear to ear. He tilted his head back and saw that his hands were tethered together and bound to the wrought-iron headboard.
His smile was shaky as he looked at her. “This how you like it, huh?”
“Mmm,” she responded as she turned and began to tie his feet to either side of the baseboard.
“Okay,” he gulped. “If it’ll help me get an ‘A’ on the make-up test then . . .”
He tried to smile again, but it faltered as she came back up the bed to straddle him once again. She tugged at his boxers, pulling them down enough to see his hipbones and then rubbed them lightly with her thumbs.
“Oh, Johnny,” she sighed. “The test is just getting started.” Her fingers trailed up his sides and down again, painstakingly slowly. Her pulse quickened when she felt him shudder beneath her.
“What do you mean?” Johnny all but squeaked.
“Why, the make-up test, of course. Tell me, Johnny,” her fingers drew light circles just below his armpits. “Are you ticklish?”
Johnny hadn’t struggled in his bonds until that moment. “Oh, God,” he nearly whimpered, the blood draining from his face. “Please, Miss Langdon. I—“
“Didn’t I tell you not to call me Miss Langdon?” Her fingertips inched closer towards the hollows of his underarms.
“Yes! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Alexa.” He clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip against the agonizingly ticklish caresses she was inflicting upon him.
Alexa smiled at the sight of him. So strong, and yet so weak. “You didn’t answer my question, Johnny.”
“Hmm?” A sheen of perspiration was already noticeable on his forehead.
“Are . . . you . . . ticklish?” Her fingers dipped into his armpits, causing him to jerk and yelp.
“I, uh, I—“
“Don’t lie to me, Johnny. I’ll know if you’re lying to me.” All at once her fingers went crazy in his armpits. She scraped and spidered her fingertips inside the sensitive hollows. Johnny squirmed and screamed, bucked and laughed. “Answer me, Johnny.”
“Yes!” he cried out in desperation. “Yes! I’m ticklish!”
She stopped the torture, bringing her hands down his sides again as he caught his breath. She kissed his belly as he fought to bring his breathing back under control.
“Alright then, my dear boy. Let the make-up test begin.” Her hands latched onto his ribcage.
“Wait!” he wailed. “How is this a make-up test?”
“I tickle, you laugh, and we make it up as we go along.”
Before he could protest, her fingers dug into his damp skin. His laughter was music to her ears. Her hands flitted up and down his ribs, over his sides and up to his neck. He thrashed and rolled his head from side to side, mindless with bubbling laughter.
His skin was soft and firm beneath her roaming hands, turning her on as she touched and teased, tormented and tortured. She giggled at his screams of mercy and grinned wickedly at the sight of shedding tears. Finally, she stopped.
Johnny gulped air as if he’d just finished a triathlon and lost. His face was red with breathlessness and his eyes were huge and watered with tears. He trembled uncontrollably as Alexa’s hands continued to stroke and caress his sensitive flesh.
“Please, Alexa, I—“
His words were eclipsed when Alexa brought her lips to his, diving into his mouth in search of his tongue. He obliged and returned the kiss with passion. Satisfied, she nibbled on his bottom lip then sat up to study him.
“You are so sexy, Johnny. God, I haven’t been this turned on in . . . well, ever.” She kissed him again, just a quick meeting of lips.
“Really?” he asked, bemused.
“Oh, yes. Your laughter gets me all hot and bothered. I could just listen to it forever.”
Johnny gulped. “You could?”
Alexa giggled. “That’s right. But don’t fret, sugar. I won’t tickle you forever, but I’d sure like to try.”
Without warning, her hands darted to his stomach and prodded and wriggled her bright red fingertips until Johnny’s back arched off the bed and his laughter turned silent. She dipped her pinky into his navel and watched his crystal blue eyes bulge and water, a scream dying in his throat. She found that he was unbelievably sensitive at the flesh just above his hipbones and below his navel.
“Seems we’ve found your weak spot, huh, baby?” she cooed as he bucked and writhed beneath her torturous, questing fingers.
Unwilling to give her victim mercy, Alexa turned and began scraping and poking at his feet. Johnny tugged and pulled at his bonds, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks. His begs and pleads fell upon deaf ears. The tickling could have lasted minutes or hours; Johnny would never know. He was vulnerable and hers for the taking as she wished.
Returning to his belly for a final tickling of his navel, Alexa relented at last and laid her head on Johnny’s heaving chest. She was content to listen to his raging heartbeat.
“You did good, Johnny,” she breathed.
Johnny coughed and sniffed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. An ‘A’ plus all the way, baby.”
“Thank God!” He wanted to laugh, but felt he couldn’t.
“And since you’ve been such a good student, I guess a bit of a bonus should be awarded.” She sat up and ran her hands down his slick chest.
“A . . . bonus?” Johnny wanted to cry.
“Don’t worry,” she giggled. “You’re going to like this bonus.” She lifted the waistband of his boxer shorts and slid her agile fingers beneath the straining cotton . . . and grabbed hold. “Oh yes,” she watched Johnny’s eyes glaze over as his breath caught. “You’re going to like this bonus a lot.”
Johnny sat in the back of the room, hunched in his seat, his biology pop quiz gripped tightly in his hands. Another goddamn ‘F’. No matter how hard he studied, no matter how well prepared he was, biology just wasn’t his strong subject.
He waited until all of the other students left the classroom and then sauntered towards the big mahogany desk at the front of the room. When he reached it, Miss Langdon looked up and smiled.
“Problem, Johnny?”
“Yes, ma’am. You see, I don’t think the grade I received on this pop quiz is fair.”
“No?”
Johnny shook his head. “Do you think it would be possible for me to perhaps take a make-up test?”
Miss Langdon’s eyes twinkled behind her librarian-style glasses while a molasses grin stretched onto her face.
Johnny simply smiled.
FYI: This is a fictional story that involves characters over the age of eighteen. Enjoy, and reviews are welcome!
Teacher’s Pet
Johnny sat in the back of the room, hunched in his seat, swearing ripely under his breath. His sharp, blue eyes scanned the term paper that had been handed to him from his biology professor just moments ago. The bright red ‘F’ at the top of the page continued to stare back at him, taunting him, laughing at him, mocking him.
His stomach churned and rolled over. He couldn’t have failed. He worked damn hard on this term paper. Long nights spent studying and preparing, eyes red-rimmed and weary, downing coffee until his toenails turned brown, not to mention wreaking havoc on his social and sex life.
And all for what? All for nothing. No. Worse than nothing. All for a big, fat, red ‘F’.
And to top it off, this lovely failing grade would dip his GPA enough that he couldn’t play football. That was the lowest blow of all.
He looked up from the paper to see his professor, Miss Langdon, staring at him. When their eyes locked, Johnny was sure he saw a ghost of a smile cross her face.
Witch, he thought. She was enjoying this. She wanted him to fail, wanted him to suffer. She was sitting up at the front of the classroom, looking feeble and small behind her huge mahogany desk holding a fat, red marker. The marker she most undoubtedly used without restraint on Johnny’s paper.
Students began to file out of the room, signaling the end of class. They all may have been satisfied with their grades, but Johnny was far from giving up. Maybe his strong suit wasn’t biology, but he was known for his Golden Boy good-looks and charm. And he wasn’t ashamed to use them to his advantage. Miss Langdon didn’t know it yet, but she was about to fall victim to Johnny’s staggering appeal and Oscar-winning performance.
He rose slowly, making sure all the other classmates had left. He sauntered towards the front of the room, all long legs and easy stride. His blue eyes studied his prey carefully.
She was marginally pretty, he thought. Her fair hair swept up in a loose bun, dark eyes skewed behind librarian-style glasses, generous curves hidden inside square, unflattering clothes. Her full lips were unpainted, but the effect her slight smile had on him as she watched him come toward her caused a hitch in his step.
“Hello, Johnny,” she said brightly as he reached her desk. “Problem?”
“Actually, Miz Langdon, there is a problem. It seems you may have made a mistake while grading my term paper.”
“Mistake?” she asked innocently, taking the paper from him. Her eyes absently scanned the front page.
“Yes,” Johnny began, pouring it on thick. “I, uh, I worked really, really hard on this assignment, ma’am, and I don’t think the failing grade is fair.”
Miss Langdon set the paper down on her desk and looked up at her student. He was lean and long, and dark and strikingly handsome. His bulky sweatshirt hid the tones of his upper body, but she was sure his build was fit for a young, athletic boy with a football scholarship. “Hmm. Not fair, you say?” She tapped a finger to her lips.
Johnny didn’t want to resort to begging, but he would do just that if he could continue to play football. “Please, Miz Langdon. This grade means I can’t play ball. I have to play ball. My dad will kill me if—“
Miss Langdon held up a hand to stop his ramblings. She eyed him carefully, noting how his baby-blues took on a sad sheen and his lips pouted pitifully.
Oh, he’s good, she thought. Very good. If he only knew the game he was playing . . . and losing.
She feigned resignation and comfort brilliantly. “Alright, Johnny, alright.” She patted his hand affectionately. “Maybe we can work something out.” She grinned invitingly.
Johnny felt a tingle where her hand touched his. He looked at his college professor, really looked at her. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’d really appreciate it, Miz Langdon.” He noticed the none-to-subtle twinkle in the professor’s eyes and wasn’t quite sure if he could handle where this little discussion was headed. Sure, he loved the ladies as much as the next guy, but mixing it up with one of his professors was definitely new territory. But he started it and he sure as hell was going to finish it, no matter what Miss Langdon wanted from him.
“How about a make-up test then?”
“A make-up test?” That threw him off.
“Sure. Absolutely.” She enjoyed the confused look on his face. “I’m too busy to stay on campus after classes, but you can come to my place later tonight and try for a better grade on a make-up test. It’s up to you, Johnny. How badly do you want to play football?” That was the clincher and she knew it.
“What time do you want me to be there?”
Miss Langdon’s feral grin was blinding.
* * *
He stood in front of the door to Miss Langdon’s house trying to decide whether or not he wanted to knock. He could handle Miss Langdon, no doubt about that, especially if this test was going to be taken into the bedroom.
Johnny couldn’t help but smile at that. If that’s what Miss Langdon wanted, he had no doubt his so-called make-up test would grant him an ‘A’. But something about his professor made him just a bit wary. He was the charmer; he was supposed to be in charge of this situation. But he saw the look in Miss Langdon’s eyes earlier in the classroom. He may have underestimated her. Something about her quick willingness to give him another chance for a better grade made him cautious. Should he go inside and give his teacher the roll of her life, or cut his losses and run for the hills like her feline smiles made him want to do?
She didn’t give him that choice. The door opened to a sight that had Johnny swallowing a large lump in his throat.
Miss Langdon – or, Johnny mused, Miss Langdon’s sexy evil twin - stood in the doorway. Her blonde hair lay full and wavy over her shoulders. The tiny, black silk robe she adorned clung magnificently to the smooth curves of her physique. Her shoeless feet revealed bright red toenails, obviously painted to match her long, manicured fingernails. Her dark eyes were no longer hidden behind librarian-glasses, and her creamy skin glowed like sun-kissed honey.
Johnny felt his knees buckle as her slow molasses smile curved her luscious red lips.
“Hello, Johnny,” she purred. “Right on time.” Pleased with her student’s stupefied reaction, she took his hand and led him into the parlor. “Sorry for my appearance, dear. I just finished my bath. Here, let me take your jacket.” She slid his letterman jacket off his shoulders and down his arms with deliberate finesse. “Now, would you like something to eat or drink before we start your make-up test?”
Tongue-tied, Johnny simply shook his head.
Goodness, he was cute when he was flustered, Miss Langdon mused.
“Are you alright, dear? You seem a bit flushed.” She raised her palm to his cheek.
“No, I’m okay, ma’am.”
“Oh, quit it with the ma’am thing. And Miss Langdon is for the classroom. Call me Alexa.”
“Okay, Alexa,” he said it slowly, trying out the more personal name on his tongue.
She took a moment to study him. He was a few inches taller than she and out-weighed her by a good fifty pounds, but she could already tell that he would be no match for her. And that chased a thrill up her spine.
“Well then,” she sighed, running her fingers teasingly through his hair. “We might as well get started, don’t you think?” Alexa let her tongue roll across her lower lip and watched her prey’s pupils dilate.
“Yeah,” Johnny nearly groaned. “Might as well.” He reached for her, every other thought erased from his mind as he pulled her hard against his chest.
“My, my. What’ve we here?” she giggled as she reached underneath his sweatshirt to slide her hands up his back, and sighed contentedly as he trembled. “Are you hot for teacher, Johnny?”
“Hell yes!” And his mouth descended upon hers.
They struggled towards the bedroom, fumbling with zippers and buttons, mouths hungry for lips and bare skin. Hands wandered carelessly, causing moans and sighs to tumble helplessly from their mouths.
Johnny smiled eagerly as Alexa pushed him down onto the bed, barely registering the black spread and sheets, and the many candles burning throughout the dimly lit room. He was clad only in boxer shorts and she in a lacey red bra and panties. Must be Alexa’s favorite color, he thought absently. But when her lips roamed over his skin, he thought of nothing else but her; how she felt creamy and smooth as she pressed intimately against him, how her lips tasted cool and sweet as her mouth ravished him, how her tiny, delicate hands worked feverishly over his body and up his arms, and then feeling the slight tug of silk around his wrists . . . his wrists?
He pulled his mouth from hers, still dazed by her intoxicating ministrations. He didn’t register what had happened until she sat up astride him, her wicked grin spread from ear to ear. He tilted his head back and saw that his hands were tethered together and bound to the wrought-iron headboard.
His smile was shaky as he looked at her. “This how you like it, huh?”
“Mmm,” she responded as she turned and began to tie his feet to either side of the baseboard.
“Okay,” he gulped. “If it’ll help me get an ‘A’ on the make-up test then . . .”
He tried to smile again, but it faltered as she came back up the bed to straddle him once again. She tugged at his boxers, pulling them down enough to see his hipbones and then rubbed them lightly with her thumbs.
“Oh, Johnny,” she sighed. “The test is just getting started.” Her fingers trailed up his sides and down again, painstakingly slowly. Her pulse quickened when she felt him shudder beneath her.
“What do you mean?” Johnny all but squeaked.
“Why, the make-up test, of course. Tell me, Johnny,” her fingers drew light circles just below his armpits. “Are you ticklish?”
Johnny hadn’t struggled in his bonds until that moment. “Oh, God,” he nearly whimpered, the blood draining from his face. “Please, Miss Langdon. I—“
“Didn’t I tell you not to call me Miss Langdon?” Her fingertips inched closer towards the hollows of his underarms.
“Yes! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Alexa.” He clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip against the agonizingly ticklish caresses she was inflicting upon him.
Alexa smiled at the sight of him. So strong, and yet so weak. “You didn’t answer my question, Johnny.”
“Hmm?” A sheen of perspiration was already noticeable on his forehead.
“Are . . . you . . . ticklish?” Her fingers dipped into his armpits, causing him to jerk and yelp.
“I, uh, I—“
“Don’t lie to me, Johnny. I’ll know if you’re lying to me.” All at once her fingers went crazy in his armpits. She scraped and spidered her fingertips inside the sensitive hollows. Johnny squirmed and screamed, bucked and laughed. “Answer me, Johnny.”
“Yes!” he cried out in desperation. “Yes! I’m ticklish!”
She stopped the torture, bringing her hands down his sides again as he caught his breath. She kissed his belly as he fought to bring his breathing back under control.
“Alright then, my dear boy. Let the make-up test begin.” Her hands latched onto his ribcage.
“Wait!” he wailed. “How is this a make-up test?”
“I tickle, you laugh, and we make it up as we go along.”
Before he could protest, her fingers dug into his damp skin. His laughter was music to her ears. Her hands flitted up and down his ribs, over his sides and up to his neck. He thrashed and rolled his head from side to side, mindless with bubbling laughter.
His skin was soft and firm beneath her roaming hands, turning her on as she touched and teased, tormented and tortured. She giggled at his screams of mercy and grinned wickedly at the sight of shedding tears. Finally, she stopped.
Johnny gulped air as if he’d just finished a triathlon and lost. His face was red with breathlessness and his eyes were huge and watered with tears. He trembled uncontrollably as Alexa’s hands continued to stroke and caress his sensitive flesh.
“Please, Alexa, I—“
His words were eclipsed when Alexa brought her lips to his, diving into his mouth in search of his tongue. He obliged and returned the kiss with passion. Satisfied, she nibbled on his bottom lip then sat up to study him.
“You are so sexy, Johnny. God, I haven’t been this turned on in . . . well, ever.” She kissed him again, just a quick meeting of lips.
“Really?” he asked, bemused.
“Oh, yes. Your laughter gets me all hot and bothered. I could just listen to it forever.”
Johnny gulped. “You could?”
Alexa giggled. “That’s right. But don’t fret, sugar. I won’t tickle you forever, but I’d sure like to try.”
Without warning, her hands darted to his stomach and prodded and wriggled her bright red fingertips until Johnny’s back arched off the bed and his laughter turned silent. She dipped her pinky into his navel and watched his crystal blue eyes bulge and water, a scream dying in his throat. She found that he was unbelievably sensitive at the flesh just above his hipbones and below his navel.
“Seems we’ve found your weak spot, huh, baby?” she cooed as he bucked and writhed beneath her torturous, questing fingers.
Unwilling to give her victim mercy, Alexa turned and began scraping and poking at his feet. Johnny tugged and pulled at his bonds, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks. His begs and pleads fell upon deaf ears. The tickling could have lasted minutes or hours; Johnny would never know. He was vulnerable and hers for the taking as she wished.
Returning to his belly for a final tickling of his navel, Alexa relented at last and laid her head on Johnny’s heaving chest. She was content to listen to his raging heartbeat.
“You did good, Johnny,” she breathed.
Johnny coughed and sniffed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. An ‘A’ plus all the way, baby.”
“Thank God!” He wanted to laugh, but felt he couldn’t.
“And since you’ve been such a good student, I guess a bit of a bonus should be awarded.” She sat up and ran her hands down his slick chest.
“A . . . bonus?” Johnny wanted to cry.
“Don’t worry,” she giggled. “You’re going to like this bonus.” She lifted the waistband of his boxer shorts and slid her agile fingers beneath the straining cotton . . . and grabbed hold. “Oh yes,” she watched Johnny’s eyes glaze over as his breath caught. “You’re going to like this bonus a lot.”
* * *
Johnny sat in the back of the room, hunched in his seat, his biology pop quiz gripped tightly in his hands. Another goddamn ‘F’. No matter how hard he studied, no matter how well prepared he was, biology just wasn’t his strong subject.
He waited until all of the other students left the classroom and then sauntered towards the big mahogany desk at the front of the room. When he reached it, Miss Langdon looked up and smiled.
“Problem, Johnny?”
“Yes, ma’am. You see, I don’t think the grade I received on this pop quiz is fair.”
“No?”
Johnny shook his head. “Do you think it would be possible for me to perhaps take a make-up test?”
Miss Langdon’s eyes twinkled behind her librarian-style glasses while a molasses grin stretched onto her face.
Johnny simply smiled.
