Sometimes it feels like I have your image wrapped up in my mind. Or maybe we get the itch about the anger that breaks through what we are really feeling.
Whash! More cane.
More pain. I know I am too late. But hey, show me the poster on your heart written ‘To Let’ because my precious feelings would last forever. And I stand here with undone assignments and a heart more of your own. Dare not to say that man forgets sooner than woman; that his love has an earlier death.
Today I saw your lips tremble a little in the presence of mine and I know what that meant. And the way my nostrils feel with your scent like being close to you is a day dream. The whispers of the cane whipping my ass as you raise your arms, it occurs to me that you really want to say: “Good moaning, student,” not “Good morning, student.”
I want to scream about this teacher in TP who is set a flame burning from within my heart but I’ll be overreacting, right? White noise emanating from the back of the class. Or you want to put it as paranoid or insecure. He is unobtainable, and receding before me with every crack of the flame.
“Physics is not hard,” your deep voice sets a rhythm of monosyllabic lengthy explanations of science while at the back of the class, I stare at my Geography book wondering when you’ll explore my valleys. And my eyes flutter open in confusion as fear settle in them when you talk about gravity. Well, maybe it is a great force, Mwalimu because it could be responsible for my falling for you.
Motion couldn’t be static teacher, when I am in this galaxy with you in confusion. Some sense of obligation. You are in control, how would I forget that?
It is a new dawn of striping my books naked with the decency you ask in class. And I take empty notes when your voice cracks just to have the end of each page scribbled with the butterflies you leave in my stomach. So maybe love is blind, but see, you are the guy with spectacles.
Whash! More cane.
And your strokes bite deeper so I wish you’d just let me moan. So when you ask me to kneel down over undone assignments I want to kneel just to shove your manhood in my throat. And you said my skirt was shorter today, but no, it would become extinct when thrown at your bedroom floor.
Hey teacher, next time when you explain the value of ‘x’ in the quadratic equation think about me replacing your ex; because I am confident I could be your ‘y’ intercept if only you accept.
“Physics is not as hard,” maybe, at least not the way your dick would be hard for me. And I wouldn’t perform so low when I hang low on your jeans. Do you want to pin, where is your place? Mine, at the staff room past noon. Hey, Mwalimu, tell me it is soon!
Soon enough, your Mwalimu might be the gamer you need for the game. They say sin is a woman and yet you’re my temptation. The drug I wish I could drop already before I am addicted. Your eyes as you stare during the lesson draw me. I’m hooked to the sight of your lips curling as you say ‘physics’. Didn’t know a boring lesson could be so erotic till I met you. My eyes are hooked, to the gentle curves on your body. Seemingly mature yet pure like nature. The strokes of cane caressing your ass … for a second I am tempted to think of my hands trailing the lines on it.
The way your eyes glow with mischief and temptation. Watching you pretend to listen to my lesson when all your eyes plead for is a sensual stroke. I watch as your finger trails your lush lips; can’t help but wonder what fantasies play in your mind.
I am a TP, rules are my name, yet with you I want to bend the rules. Bend them enough to bend you over my desk and feed you my sin.
Day one went by. Day two you played with fire, day three you tempted me, blessing me with a smile full of confidence. Tell me, can you take a night in the dark room?
I want to tie up those rebellious hands with my tie. Use my scarf to cover those eyes. Each leg spread just to bare your world to me. Sin and temptation. Forbidden you are, yet for those sins, I want to only feed on you.
What do you think? Of a night with my lips on your honey pot, taking away your innocence and turning you into my little whore? Would you take it? How about feeling your tiny hand wrap around my hard-on in a game of seduction till I am at your mercy? How about your lips curling at the edge of my hard-on till I scream and cum for you? Or would it feel better if we turned the roles and I had you screaming and cumming on my lips?
What would you think about talking laws of motion with you spread on my bed? Or maybe with you on your knees beside my desk? Boundaries are to be broken, my student, will you become my girl? The one tangled in the sheets with me? There are rules to the game, but today I want to turn consultation into an erotic song, will you be my partner in crime?
Mwalimu: East African for Teacher.
Read Also==>“Berserker” — A Short Story by Nice Mwaura.