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principal lady x hot dad!bad bunny snl character (aka marcus) (none of these words are in the bible)
cn: cringe lady pov, crack, doggystyle, tw exotification, objectification, transactional sex (he's not really that into her)
based on this snl sketch. benito's character is named marcus, his son (played by marcello hernandez) is michael, the female principal is played by ashley padilla. robert is her teacher coworker who canonically has a one-sided crush on her (not me explaining the "universe" of this bad sketch lmao)
i apologize in advance 😂
"So, how do we...?", Robert started, as the bell interrupted him loudly, filling their ears with the all too familiar ringing.
Marcus' nose twitched in distaste, like the school bell was a personal choice of hers or Robert's, a choice he wouldn't have made.
Michael got up in that fully automated yet disdainful way with which a teenager reacts to the bell.
"How do we address this?" Robert yelled over the bell.
She tried to look sternly at Marcus, as if he knew the answer, even though it would probably be her who would have to decide how they would address this. Since this was her job.
"I need to get back to class," Robert continued yelling. Except now the bell had stopped, so he was just yelling far too loudly, in a now-silent room.
Marcus made a "yikes" face at the - frankly embarrassing - moment. She tried to convey to him that she, too, found this embarrassing (while being very grateful it hadn't been her who was just yelling in a silent room).
Marcus held up his palms in question, gesturing to the two staff members. "I took off work for this."
She wondered what he did for work. He had the body of someone who did something physical but he was wearing a smart shirt and pants. However, a full three - she counted again to be sure - yes, three buttons unbuttoned and displaying a tattooed chest seemed not very professional to her. Intriguing - but not very professional. If he was a colleague, she would have to have an uncomfortable conversation about appropriate dress in the workplace.
"Robert, you should absolutely go back to class," she said quickly, tearing her eyes away from said inappropriate dress.
"I'll stay here and talk to Mr. Sey..." She peaked at his impressive form, feeling heat creep up her neck when she remembered he had offered her his first name. "I mean, Marcus. I'll stay here and talk to," she met his eye, "Marcus."
Robert frowned, stepping a bit closer and lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Are you sure? You asked me to be here for this."
"I can handle this, Robert," she hissed, waving him away like she was swatting at a fly.
She spoke up again. "Like I said. I'll stay here with Marcus and talk it through. I am sure we can find a way to...handle this. Right?"
"What about Michael?" Marcus asked, a small frown curling his dark brows.
Right. She had forgotten the student was there.
"Oh, he needs to go back to class."
Michael rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, sighing as he picked up his bag.
"Ah, ah," Marcus caught his son's elbow and said something low and serious to him in Spanish, sending another shiver down her front.
Spine. Shivers went down spines.
"Yees..." Michael replied, annoyed, pulling his arm free of his father's grip and heading towards the door.
She sprang into action, too, putting a hand on Robert's shoulder and ushering the colleague out of her office.
"Am I getting expelled now or what?" Michael asked from the door.
"Your father and I will see about that," she said. Your father and I. It had a certain ring to it. She never really liked children but she guesses she could step-parent if Marcus took care of all the important stuff. He was probably used to it, being a single dad of several years.
"You heard her," Marcus said.
The way he respected her professional authority send a thrill down her front.
Spine.
--
As soon as the door was shut, Marcus started pacing her office.
He brought his hand up to his beautiful face, pinching the bridge of his nose.
She admired his biceps as he paced the room not unlike a beautiful, powerful wild cat that should not be kept in captivity. A tiger maybe. Or a panther.
Yes, a panther.
"He cannot get expelled," he said, looking up.
"Don't worry," she said, and put a hand on his forearm where the sleeve was rolled up, opting for a calming gesture. He stopped walking, but also pulled back his arm, breaking the contact with a slight frown.
She let out a nervous laugh, pulling her hand back.
"It's not nothing, what Michael did," she said, walking back to her desk, trying to mask her awkward attempt at...at what exactly?
He sighed, and pulled out the chair across from her with one hand as if it weighed nothing. It was the heavy chair. Robert needed two hands to pull that one out. He sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "I know."
His legs naturally splayed apart, his body oozing a natural confidence even as his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
"My colleague would probably want me to expel him," she said seriously.
Robert had indicated no such thing but that was unimportant right now. What was important was that he could have said it and that she was willing to go mild instead. Possibly. She was considering it. Couldn't he just flirt with her a little bit? She would absolutely go mild if he just flirted with her a little bit.
"This will not happen again," Marcus said.
"Well, I should hope so," she said, as she pulled her gaze away from his thighs that were very nice. She didn't usually notice men's thighs. Not much to notice, usually. But his were very nice.
"I will talk to him," he reassured her, leaving no room for doubt.
"Marcus," she said, putting one palm on her desk.
"This is not a slap-on-the-wrist type of situation. We're gonna have to at the very least suspend Michael for a few days."
His chest moved when he sighed. Rubbing a tense hand across his neck pulled the shirt open for a moment.
"After Michael's mother died, I tried to be not too...firm. I never wanted to be that kind of dad. The kind that was so hard...on him."
"I understand. But maybe he would actually benefit from a slightly more..." Her eyes traveled over his chest. "...uh...firm..."
She pulled her eyes up to find him watching her with a raised a eyebrow.
She cleared her throat and tried again.
"A more firm..."
She made a vague gesture in his direction. "...you know."
He raised his eyebrows like he indeed did not know.
"You are a teacher, yes?" he started.
"Principal," she corrected, pulling on the lapel of her blazer and tugging a piece of hair behind her ear. It was a common misconception that principals were teachers and not educational management specialists, but she was willing to overlook it in this context.
"Principal, okay," he said, like this was throwing off whatever he wanted to say.
"But..." he said. "It seems like nobody ever teach you that it's rude..." He made himself a little more comfortable in the chair, letting his knee fall a little further to the side.
"...to stare."
She flushed.
"I didn't..."
He ignored her.
"So you think he would benefit from a..." He cupped one of his slender, brown hands around the other, linking the fingers. There were tattoos on them as well.
He squeezed one hand with the other.
"A firm...hand?"
She swallowed.
"Yes," she managed to choke out.
"Hm," he said, putting the ankle of one foot on the knee of the other one.
"Mrs....?" he asked.
"Anna," she offered quickly.
"Mrs. Anna," he said, misunderstanding her meaning. She didn't have it in her to correct him.
"Mrs. Anna," he said, leaning down over his legs and looking up at her. "What can I do to make sure he does not get expelled?"
She felt the breath escape her body.
"There's really not much you can do," she said, finally.
"Hm," he said, sitting back again. He rested his elbows on the chair's arms, which pulled his shirt slightly more open. The tattoo was a burning heart with a cross on it.
"Why did you say you are single?", he said after a moment.
She blinked. "What?"
"You said earlier that you are single. I thought: Why is she saying that? It has nothing to do with the drawings that Michael did."
"I thought that was maybe something we had in common," she lied.
He raised an eyebrow again.
"You think I'm single?" he asked.
"Well, because Michael's mom..."
He touched his finger to his forehead, chest, and shoulders, crossing himself, as if out of habit.
There was a literal valley between his chest muscles, the cross tattoo fitting perfectly in there as if to highlight it. She had never seen anything like it.
"RIP," she said, seriously.
"You think I am not able to find a new woman after?" he asked. He seemed amused by the idea.
"No, I mean...of course you would."
She looked at him.
"Of course you would."
"Hm," he said, still amused.
"I think maybe..." he said, changing his position slightly in his chair. "That you want me to be single. Yes?"
"I mean, that would be inappropriate."
"Because I am younger than you?"
Ouch.
He wasn't that much younger. Was he? Oh God.
"If I have dinner with you," he says. "Michael does not get expelled?"
She hesitated.
"It's what you want, yes?" he pressed. He knew it was.
Except to go on one fake date and then never see him again was not what she wanted. It would be painful to sit through, always knowing...
"How about now?" she found herself saying.
"You can leave work?" he asked, eyebrows raising.
"No, but..."
Her eyes flicked to the closed door.
His eyebrows rose again, then he let out a little snort. "Okaaaay." He smirked. This, too, was amusing to him.
"Sure," he said after a moment. He checked his watch. "I have 20 minutes. To...have dinner."
"It's more like lunch," she found herself pointing out.
"Sure," he said again. He got up from the chair and started walking to the door. His chinos really fit well. She hardly ever saw a man around here with chinos that fit this well. Oh, who was she kidding? She never saw a man around here with chinos that fit this well.
He had reached the door, looking at her while he slowly turned the key in the lock.
Click.
And yes, she felt that click down her front. Not her spine.
He slowly walked back towards her, leaving her wondering if 18 minutes was long or short.
She got up from her chair, walking around the table to face him.
He stopped too close in front of her, his woodsy cologne invading her nostrils. Making her light-headed.
Was he going to kiss her? Should she try to kiss him? What if this was all a big misunderstanding and she would lose her job as a result?
"Turn around," he said, low, interrupting her thoughts. He sounded both stern and disinterested.
She slowly turned around, her legs skimming the desk.
He put down his hands on the desk right and left of her.
She looked straight ahead, which brought her face to face with the poster on her wall that read "THIS OFFICE IS A SCREAM-FREE ZONE".
She flushed at the unintended double meaning.
A large, warm palm appeared between her shoulder blades, applying slight pressure until she followed it and bent down over the desk. The movement brought her bum backwards, knocking into his body.
Oh.
She leaned forward, embarrassed by the contact. Which she couldn't be if she was gonna go through with this.
His body skimmed hers again when he reached out and over hers, picking up a cup that she had been drinking her midday coffee from.
He held it in her line of vision, turning it this way and that.
"Don't Make Me Call Your Mother", it read. She felt her face flush again.
He put it back on the desk.
She bent down further, hanging her head in embarrassment. The movement sent her bum into him again, though, knocking into his clothed crotch, and this time, his hand appeared at her hip, keeping her from pulling away again.
He let his clothed crotch bump into the softness of her ass again, deliberately, his hand sliding slowly up her back, holding her down against the cheap desk, gently but firmly.
How many minutes left? she started wondering.
He seemed to have good time management skills though, because he now unzipped her skirt and unceremoniously pulled it down along with her underwear. Instead of pulling it all the way down though, he left it just below her ass, the fabric cutting into the flesh below her cheeks, pushing them up in what she assumed was a crude manner.
"When you say firm hand...?" he inquired.
"Yes," she breathed, nodding, not sure what she was agreeing to but wanting it nonetheless.
He smacked her ass with gusto, the sound reverberating through her office.
"Christ," she yelped. Her right cheek was burning, and so was her center.
His warm palm cupped her cheek soothingly, strong fingers splaying out over its roundness. His thumb moved to the middle, pulling her open as the other hand tugged the skirt down the rest of the way.
His thumb kept her cheeks parted.
"You want me to put it in?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He let go of her cheek.
Then he smacked her ass again, making her body jerk forward from surprise, her scrambling hand toppling a pencil sharpener off the desk.
"Oh. Sorry," he said sheepishly.
"It's fine," she replied.
Behind her, she heard him unclasp his belt.
"Do you have a condom?" he asked.
Shit. Why did he have to be responsible?
She was just about to spiral that she couldn't miss this opportunity when she remembered.
"There is a..." She pushed herself up onto her elbow, gesturing at the sideboard. "Top drawer, I think."
He walked over, and went through the drawer.
Then he turned, holding it up with a smirk.
Sexual health educational kit.
"Yes," she said.
He pulled out a condom and started walking back towards her, the front of his slacks bulging obscenely.
"It say: For educational use only," he read.
"It's a normal condom, they just print that to deter the kids from using it," she said.
"Aren't they suppose to use it?"
"I guess," she said.
He put the foil to his mouth and ripped it open with his teeth, which was not the recommended way of opening it, according to the kit.
Having disappeared behind her back again, he pushed her back down onto the desk and audibly spit out the piece of foil.
She heard him unzip his pants.
One hand pulled her hips back, while the other grazed her wet opening as he pushed the tip of his cock against her.
It wasn't with ease that she took him but she did, her heart skipping a beat, her breath going shallow at the feeling of him slowly stretching her open, in, in, without stopping, until she was stuffed full of him.
God, he was big. Of course he was. Was this really happening? On a Tuesday?
He let out a little sound of pleasure, his palm resting on the small of her back while she tried to relax instead of clenching down on him, which was hard, considering his size and her...singleness.
He leaned over her body, close to her ear.
"Since I am...how do you say...having a hard time finding a new woman..." he said.
"Right," she replied.
He pulled out, then pushed in again, rolling his hips slowly against her ass, quickly finding a smooth, dragging rhythm that had her eyes rolling back.
"...I may be a little out of practice," he said.
He didn't seem out of practice, the way he moved so surely, fucking her slow and deep and so good that it made her miss him already.
She tried not to think about how he would have to leave in 7 minutes or so, and let her mind be taken over by the delicious drag of his thick cock inside her.
His hand slid up her dampening spine below her dress shirt when -
Knock knock knock.
"Shit," she hissed.
"Anna?" someone called from outside the office.
Robert. Fuck.
The door handle rattled, but the lock held it closed, thank God.
Marcus didn't seem particularly fazed though - he kept moving like nothing was happening, making it hard for her to keep her wits together.
"Uh...can you come back later?" she called.
Marcus used his hands to tilt her hips back, and she barely suppressed a whimper when he started hitting her g-spot.
"Everything ok?" Robert called, sounding concerned and supremely annoying.
"Yess!"
Marcus' hand had sneaked around her hip and was now between her front and the desk, drawing tight circles on her clit.
"T-taking a break!" she managed.
"Okay..." Robert said skeptically outside. "See you later then."
She sighed when she finally heard his foot steps leave. "God."
"I have to go soon," Marcus declared but her heart had no time to sink because he chose to redouble his efforts, rubbing her clit and thrusting into her with a force that had her pencils shaking in their holder, hitting that spot over and over, unrelenting.
She felt that undeniable pressure build and - unusually quickly - crash. Starting in her core, it made her clench rhythmically in his grip, spread throughout her whole body, ending in an involuntary yelp when she felt a gush of liquid rush out from her all of a sudden.
What the hell. Did she just...?
"Oh, you squirt," he noted, but only with mild surprise, like this happened to women all the time. "So you enjoyed it."
Jesus Christ.
When she realized he was getting dressed, she haphazardly pulled down her skirt, standing up slowly. The was a wet spot on her front that she covered by taking off her blazer and holding it awkwardly in front of her.
"You probably have to go," she said, willing him to leave and end her embarrassment.
"I can't," he said.
She frowned.
He sat down in the chair in front of her desk, gesturing for her to sit in hers.
"24 hours suspension and counseling paid by the school. No expulsion," he said.
It took her a while to realize what he was talking about. Who he was and why he was in her office in the first place.
"I need you to write it down," he said, taking a pen from her case and clicking it before handing it to her.
"Uh...sure."
She took out a form and started crossing the items, looking up at him. When she saw his friendly, but expecting face, she lowered her head and set her signature, a bit wobblier than usual.
"Thank you," he said, not insincerely.
"Thank you," she stuttered, immediately realizing her mistake when he smirked.
"Well, it was..." She cleared her throat and moved her mouse to unlock her computer screen, avoiding his eyes.
"Nice to meet you," she said, to her spreadsheet.
"I will talk to Michael," he said.
"Yes, great."
"Have a nice day...Anna."
She finally forced her eyes up but only in time to see his back as he walked away along the corridor, her office door wide open.
--
@godmothersbackbone @whatevenisthiscrap @sydneystarzz i am sorry
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
listen i am always in favor for gender non conforming clothing on benito but that's also what makes a sudden hypermasc benito plopping up in some video so lethal 🥵
i'm sorry but women photographing their boyfriends is peak? obsessed with these pics gabriela took of benito for rolling stone during quarantine.
“I wanted to highlight all my favorite things about him,” said Berlingeri of the photoshoot. “I want people to notice his lips. His skin. His eyes. I find him so beautiful.”
principal lady x hot dad!bad bunny snl character (aka marcus) (none of these words are in the bible)
cn: cringe lady pov, crack, doggystyle, tw exotification, objectification, transactional sex (he's not really that into her)
based on this snl sketch. benito's character is named marcus, his son (played by marcello hernandez) is michael, the female principal is played by ashley padilla. robert is her teacher coworker who canonically has a one-sided crush on her (not me explaining the "universe" of this bad sketch lmao)
i apologize in advance 😂
"So, how do we...?", Robert started, as the bell interrupted him loudly, filling their ears with the all too familiar ringing.
Marcus' nose twitched in distaste, like the school bell was a personal choice of hers or Robert's, a choice he wouldn't have made.
Michael got up in that fully automated yet disdainful way with which a teenager reacts to the bell.
"How do we address this?" Robert yelled over the bell.
She tried to look sternly at Marcus, as if he knew the answer, even though it would probably be her who would have to decide how they would address this. Since this was her job.
"I need to get back to class," Robert continued yelling. Except now the bell had stopped, so he was just yelling far too loudly, in a now-silent room.
Marcus made a "yikes" face at the - frankly embarrassing - moment. She tried to convey to him that she, too, found this embarrassing (while being very grateful it hadn't been her who was just yelling in a silent room).
Marcus held up his palms in question, gesturing to the two staff members. "I took off work for this."
She wondered what he did for work. He had the body of someone who did something physical but he was wearing a smart shirt and pants. However, a full three - she counted again to be sure - yes, three buttons unbuttoned and displaying a tattooed chest seemed not very professional to her. Intriguing - but not very professional. If he was a colleague, she would have to have an uncomfortable conversation about appropriate dress in the workplace.
"Robert, you should absolutely go back to class," she said quickly, tearing her eyes away from said inappropriate dress.
"I'll stay here and talk to Mr. Sey..." She peaked at his impressive form, feeling heat creep up her neck when she remembered he had offered her his first name. "I mean, Marcus. I'll stay here and talk to," she met his eye, "Marcus."
Robert frowned, stepping a bit closer and lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Are you sure? You asked me to be here for this."
"I can handle this, Robert," she hissed, waving him away like she was swatting at a fly.
She spoke up again. "Like I said. I'll stay here with Marcus and talk it through. I am sure we can find a way to...handle this. Right?"
"What about Michael?" Marcus asked, a small frown curling his dark brows.
Right. She had forgotten the student was there.
"Oh, he needs to go back to class."
Michael rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, sighing as he picked up his bag.
"Ah, ah," Marcus caught his son's elbow and said something low and serious to him in Spanish, sending another shiver down her front.
Spine. Shivers went down spines.
"Yees..." Michael replied, annoyed, pulling his arm free of his father's grip and heading towards the door.
She sprang into action, too, putting a hand on Robert's shoulder and ushering the colleague out of her office.
"Am I getting expelled now or what?" Michael asked from the door.
"Your father and I will see about that," she said. Your father and I. It had a certain ring to it. She never really liked children but she guesses she could step-parent if Marcus took care of all the important stuff. He was probably used to it, being a single dad of several years.
"You heard her," Marcus said.
The way he respected her professional authority send a thrill down her front.
Spine.
--
As soon as the door was shut, Marcus started pacing her office.
He brought his hand up to his beautiful face, pinching the bridge of his nose.
She admired his biceps as he paced the room not unlike a beautiful, powerful wild cat that should not be kept in captivity. A tiger maybe. Or a panther.
Yes, a panther.
"He cannot get expelled," he said, looking up.
"Don't worry," she said, and put a hand on his forearm where the sleeve was rolled up, opting for a calming gesture. He stopped walking, but also pulled back his arm, breaking the contact with a slight frown.
She let out a nervous laugh, pulling her hand back.
"It's not nothing, what Michael did," she said, walking back to her desk, trying to mask her awkward attempt at...at what exactly?
He sighed, and pulled out the chair across from her with one hand as if it weighed nothing. It was the heavy chair. Robert needed two hands to pull that one out. He sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "I know."
His legs naturally splayed apart, his body oozing a natural confidence even as his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
"My colleague would probably want me to expel him," she said seriously.
Robert had indicated no such thing but that was unimportant right now. What was important was that he could have said it and that she was willing to go mild instead. Possibly. She was considering it. Couldn't he just flirt with her a little bit? She would absolutely go mild if he just flirted with her a little bit.
"This will not happen again," Marcus said.
"Well, I should hope so," she said, as she pulled her gaze away from his thighs that were very nice. She didn't usually notice men's thighs. Not much to notice, usually. But his were very nice.
"I will talk to him," he reassured her, leaving no room for doubt.
"Marcus," she said, putting one palm on her desk.
"This is not a slap-on-the-wrist type of situation. We're gonna have to at the very least suspend Michael for a few days."
His chest moved when he sighed. Rubbing a tense hand across his neck pulled the shirt open for a moment.
"After Michael's mother died, I tried to be not too...firm. I never wanted to be that kind of dad. The kind that was so hard...on him."
"I understand. But maybe he would actually benefit from a slightly more..." Her eyes traveled over his chest. "...uh...firm..."
She pulled her eyes up to find him watching her with a raised a eyebrow.
She cleared her throat and tried again.
"A more firm..."
She made a vague gesture in his direction. "...you know."
He raised his eyebrows like he indeed did not know.
"You are a teacher, yes?" he started.
"Principal," she corrected, pulling on the lapel of her blazer and tugging a piece of hair behind her ear. It was a common misconception that principals were teachers and not educational management specialists, but she was willing to overlook it in this context.
"Principal, okay," he said, like this was throwing off whatever he wanted to say.
"But..." he said. "It seems like nobody ever teach you that it's rude..." He made himself a little more comfortable in the chair, letting his knee fall a little further to the side.
"...to stare."
She flushed.
"I didn't..."
He ignored her.
"So you think he would benefit from a..." He cupped one of his slender, brown hands around the other, linking the fingers. There were tattoos on them as well.
He squeezed one hand with the other.
"A firm...hand?"
She swallowed.
"Yes," she managed to choke out.
"Hm," he said, putting the ankle of one foot on the knee of the other one.
"Mrs....?" he asked.
"Anna," she offered quickly.
"Mrs. Anna," he said, misunderstanding her meaning. She didn't have it in her to correct him.
"Mrs. Anna," he said, leaning down over his legs and looking up at her. "What can I do to make sure he does not get expelled?"
She felt the breath escape her body.
"There's really not much you can do," she said, finally.
"Hm," he said, sitting back again. He rested his elbows on the chair's arms, which pulled his shirt slightly more open. The tattoo was a burning heart with a cross on it.
"Why did you say you are single?", he said after a moment.
She blinked. "What?"
"You said earlier that you are single. I thought: Why is she saying that? It has nothing to do with the drawings that Michael did."
"I thought that was maybe something we had in common," she lied.
He raised an eyebrow again.
"You think I'm single?" he asked.
"Well, because Michael's mom..."
He touched his finger to his forehead, chest, and shoulders, crossing himself, as if out of habit.
There was a literal valley between his chest muscles, the cross tattoo fitting perfectly in there as if to highlight it. She had never seen anything like it.
"RIP," she said, seriously.
"You think I am not able to find a new woman after?" he asked. He seemed amused by the idea.
"No, I mean...of course you would."
She looked at him.
"Of course you would."
"Hm," he said, still amused.
"I think maybe..." he said, changing his position slightly in his chair. "That you want me to be single. Yes?"
"I mean, that would be inappropriate."
"Because I am younger than you?"
Ouch.
He wasn't that much younger. Was he? Oh God.
"If I have dinner with you," he says. "Michael does not get expelled?"
She hesitated.
"It's what you want, yes?" he pressed. He knew it was.
Except to go on one fake date and then never see him again was not what she wanted. It would be painful to sit through, always knowing...
"How about now?" she found herself saying.
"You can leave work?" he asked, eyebrows raising.
"No, but..."
Her eyes flicked to the closed door.
His eyebrows rose again, then he let out a little snort. "Okaaaay." He smirked. This, too, was amusing to him.
"Sure," he said after a moment. He checked his watch. "I have 20 minutes. To...have dinner."
"It's more like lunch," she found herself pointing out.
"Sure," he said again. He got up from the chair and started walking to the door. His chinos really fit well. She hardly ever saw a man around here with chinos that fit this well. Oh, who was she kidding? She never saw a man around here with chinos that fit this well.
He had reached the door, looking at her while he slowly turned the key in the lock.
Click.
And yes, she felt that click down her front. Not her spine.
He slowly walked back towards her, leaving her wondering if 18 minutes was long or short.
She got up from her chair, walking around the table to face him.
He stopped too close in front of her, his woodsy cologne invading her nostrils. Making her light-headed.
Was he going to kiss her? Should she try to kiss him? What if this was all a big misunderstanding and she would lose her job as a result?
"Turn around," he said, low, interrupting her thoughts. He sounded both stern and disinterested.
She slowly turned around, her legs skimming the desk.
He put down his hands on the desk right and left of her.
She looked straight ahead, which brought her face to face with the poster on her wall that read "THIS OFFICE IS A SCREAM-FREE ZONE".
She flushed at the unintended double meaning.
A large, warm palm appeared between her shoulder blades, applying slight pressure until she followed it and bent down over the desk. The movement brought her bum backwards, knocking into his body.
Oh.
She leaned forward, embarrassed by the contact. Which she couldn't be if she was gonna go through with this.
His body skimmed hers again when he reached out and over hers, picking up a cup that she had been drinking her midday coffee from.
He held it in her line of vision, turning it this way and that.
"Don't Make Me Call Your Mother", it read. She felt her face flush again.
He put it back on the desk.
She bent down further, hanging her head in embarrassment. The movement sent her bum into him again, though, knocking into his clothed crotch, and this time, his hand appeared at her hip, keeping her from pulling away again.
He let his clothed crotch bump into the softness of her ass again, deliberately, his hand sliding slowly up her back, holding her down against the cheap desk, gently but firmly.
How many minutes left? she started wondering.
He seemed to have good time management skills though, because he now unzipped her skirt and unceremoniously pulled it down along with her underwear. Instead of pulling it all the way down though, he left it just below her ass, the fabric cutting into the flesh below her cheeks, pushing them up in what she assumed was a crude manner.
"When you say firm hand...?" he inquired.
"Yes," she breathed, nodding, not sure what she was agreeing to but wanting it nonetheless.
He smacked her ass with gusto, the sound reverberating through her office.
"Christ," she yelped. Her right cheek was burning, and so was her center.
His warm palm cupped her cheek soothingly, strong fingers splaying out over its roundness. His thumb moved to the middle, pulling her open as the other hand tugged the skirt down the rest of the way.
His thumb kept her cheeks parted.
"You want me to put it in?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He let go of her cheek.
Then he smacked her ass again, making her body jerk forward from surprise, her scrambling hand toppling a pencil sharpener off the desk.
"Oh. Sorry," he said sheepishly.
"It's fine," she replied.
Behind her, she heard him unclasp his belt.
"Do you have a condom?" he asked.
Shit. Why did he have to be responsible?
She was just about to spiral that she couldn't miss this opportunity when she remembered.
"There is a..." She pushed herself up onto her elbow, gesturing at the sideboard. "Top drawer, I think."
He walked over, and went through the drawer.
Then he turned, holding it up with a smirk.
Sexual health educational kit.
"Yes," she said.
He pulled out a condom and started walking back towards her, the front of his slacks bulging obscenely.
"It say: For educational use only," he read.
"It's a normal condom, they just print that to deter the kids from using it," she said.
"Aren't they suppose to use it?"
"I guess," she said.
He put the foil to his mouth and ripped it open with his teeth, which was not the recommended way of opening it, according to the kit.
Having disappeared behind her back again, he pushed her back down onto the desk and audibly spit out the piece of foil.
She heard him unzip his pants.
One hand pulled her hips back, while the other grazed her wet opening as he pushed the tip of his cock against her.
It wasn't with ease that she took him but she did, her heart skipping a beat, her breath going shallow at the feeling of him slowly stretching her open, in, in, without stopping, until she was stuffed full of him.
God, he was big. Of course he was. Was this really happening? On a Tuesday?
He let out a little sound of pleasure, his palm resting on the small of her back while she tried to relax instead of clenching down on him, which was hard, considering his size and her...singleness.
He leaned over her body, close to her ear.
"Since I am...how do you say...having a hard time finding a new woman..." he said.
"Right," she replied.
He pulled out, then pushed in again, rolling his hips slowly against her ass, quickly finding a smooth, dragging rhythm that had her eyes rolling back.
"...I may be a little out of practice," he said.
He didn't seem out of practice, the way he moved so surely, fucking her slow and deep and so good that it made her miss him already.
She tried not to think about how he would have to leave in 7 minutes or so, and let her mind be taken over by the delicious drag of his thick cock inside her.
His hand slid up her dampening spine below her dress shirt when -
Knock knock knock.
"Shit," she hissed.
"Anna?" someone called from outside the office.
Robert. Fuck.
The door handle rattled, but the lock held it closed, thank God.
Marcus didn't seem particularly fazed though - he kept moving like nothing was happening, making it hard for her to keep her wits together.
"Uh...can you come back later?" she called.
Marcus used his hands to tilt her hips back, and she barely suppressed a whimper when he started hitting her g-spot.
"Everything ok?" Robert called, sounding concerned and supremely annoying.
"Yess!"
Marcus' hand had sneaked around her hip and was now between her front and the desk, drawing tight circles on her clit.
"T-taking a break!" she managed.
"Okay..." Robert said skeptically outside. "See you later then."
She sighed when she finally heard his foot steps leave. "God."
"I have to go soon," Marcus declared but her heart had no time to sink because he chose to redouble his efforts, rubbing her clit and thrusting into her with a force that had her pencils shaking in their holder, hitting that spot over and over, unrelenting.
She felt that undeniable pressure build and - unusually quickly - crash. Starting in her core, it made her clench rhythmically in his grip, spread throughout her whole body, ending in an involuntary yelp when she felt a gush of liquid rush out from her all of a sudden.
What the hell. Did she just...?
"Oh, you squirt," he noted, but only with mild surprise, like this happened to women all the time. "So you enjoyed it."
Jesus Christ.
When she realized he was getting dressed, she haphazardly pulled down her skirt, standing up slowly. The was a wet spot on her front that she covered by taking off her blazer and holding it awkwardly in front of her.
"You probably have to go," she said, willing him to leave and end her embarrassment.
"I can't," he said.
She frowned.
He sat down in the chair in front of her desk, gesturing for her to sit in hers.
"24 hours suspension and counseling paid by the school. No expulsion," he said.
It took her a while to realize what he was talking about. Who he was and why he was in her office in the first place.
"I need you to write it down," he said, taking a pen from her case and clicking it before handing it to her.
"Uh...sure."
She took out a form and started crossing the items, looking up at him. When she saw his friendly, but expecting face, she lowered her head and set her signature, a bit wobblier than usual.
"Thank you," he said, not insincerely.
"Thank you," she stuttered, immediately realizing her mistake when he smirked.
"Well, it was..." She cleared her throat and moved her mouse to unlock her computer screen, avoiding his eyes.
"Nice to meet you," she said, to her spreadsheet.
"I will talk to Michael," he said.
"Yes, great."
"Have a nice day...Anna."
She finally forced her eyes up but only in time to see his back as he walked away along the corridor, her office door wide open.
--
@godmothersbackbone @whatevenisthiscrap @sydneystarzz i am sorry
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