I Kissed A Girl

Third Person P.O.V

Dr. Simms, a psychology professor, and ex-military spotted a vermillion hoodie where Mackenzie had been sitting. She had to be long gone by now so he brought it with him, making it a point to give it to her at his next class. Then he marched out of the empty lecture hall, briefcase in hand. He went to an on-campus coffee shop where he purchased his regular: a cup of black coffee and two sugars, no cream.

He was having a very good day today, though he had to mark plenty of research papers for a couple of over-achieving juniors. Simms had missed his chance to get coffee this morning since he attended a staff meeting. He hated those. The headmaster didn’t talk about much, all she did was reiterate plans that had already been loosely discussed. Unnecessary talking, he thought and scorned the idea of how gathering at such early hours reminded him of being in the army.

On his way out he ran into a student, Jonas Pierce, the young man that had participated in his class earlier that day. He jumped away from the piping hot coffee. It aided him but his delayed reflexes had caused him to spill coffee onto Jonas’ forearm. Simms stood there, just looking for a moment as if he was in shock, his eyes wide open and his mind anywhere but present at that moment. Jonas hissed and groaned, the pure look of pain was evident on his pretty but distressed face. He grabbed his arm, and then the commotion from outside the shop snapped Simms out of his trance. He used his spare napkins to pat Jonas’ arm dry, he apologized continually, “Sorry, the iron grip ain’t what it used to be, eh.”

“I’ve got it, ” Jonas told Simms as he took the napkins from him, “It’s all good professor, it’s not bad at all” Jonas lied.

Realizing that Jonas didn’t want a spectacle, he gave in nodding as he marched off to his office. He locked the door, sat in his seat around his desk and took lungfuls of fresh air. He rested his briefcase on the ground next to him and the hoodie over a chair in front of his desk. His heart was racing in his chest and he loosened the tie around his neck. He leaned back and closed his eyes and with that, he thought back to the incident at the coffee shop.

The coffee hit his skin the way Dr. Simms remembered nukes parting water at sea. The hot black liquid engulfed his tanned forearm in its heat. Simms saw him but he was too late to stop it. He moved out of the way as if on instinct and Jonas’ face twisted in agony. He grabbed his arm tightly and his veins protruded. Simms’ heart sped up at the internal image in his head and his member was aroused by the detailed memory. It was so intense that Simms didn’t want the adrenaline to wear out before he got to relish it. He stroked it from inside my jeans. The images were vivid. He remembered his moans and groans like velvet on the skin. He got harder.

He freed himself, holding his member loosely in my hand stroking up and now his shaft slowly before the moment replayed itself. Jonas bit his lip and Simms could see him holding in profanity, likely caused by his presence. After being mesmerized by him, Simms patted his skin dry with the napkins he had; his skin was red with irritation and he swooned from the idea of stripping him naked and burning him with candle wax before forcefully making him orgasm. Simms tensed as he stroked up and down his shaft, the pleasure taking him on a high. Up, and up and up.

Jonas opened his eyes and looked at him, his eyes grey with evident pain and a frown on his face and then he hit a plateau. Then he unsealed his mouth and Simms heard the ache, quivering in his voice and with that, he soared high into the heavens before crashing with uncontrollable tremors. He grabbed some paper towels and filled them with his seed while his chest rose and sunk. Simms relaxed, letting the high die out, revelling in satisfaction.

Before beginning to work, he cleaned himself up and marked some papers. Halfway through the research papers, there was a knock on the door, Dr. Simms straightened up and invited them in, “Come in.”

It was his wife, standing there, at the door in a red dress and a bottle of champagne in hand. “Happy Anniversary!” She greeted him; he got up, hugged her and took the bottle from her hand.

“Happy Anniversary love,” He pecked her on the lips, invited her in and closed the door behind her. “I thought we were celebrating when we got home.” He got a pair of wine glasses from a nearby cupboard and handed Rebecca, his wife and mother of his two sons a glass of her own.

“I couldn’t wait so I thought I’d surprise you at work.” She smiled lovingly at him, if only had she known, so much so that the corners of her eyes had made crinkles. She sat in the chair in front of his desk. She glanced at the chair and noticed the hoodie, “What’s this?” She asked.

“A student of mine left it behind in class today,” Simms responded gesturing to the hoodie with the wine glass, an unbothered look on his face. He popped the bottle open and poured the champagne. The explanation he had given her must’ve been enough because she turned her attention away from it without query.

“To another twenty-five years with the woman I love.” He toasted, she giggled like a school and clinked her glass with mine.

“To the perfect husband,” she toasted.