Introduction
So here I am, in front of my English teacher, hands on his shoulders, face flushed, palms sweating, waiting to see how he'll react.
A million thoughts buzz through my mind. He'll probably just laugh, I assure myself. But I can tell he won't. His mouth hangs open, his lips (Oh my God, those lips) forming a perfect "o". He's just about as red as I am, if not more so. Good sign? Bad sign? Definitely as sign of some sort at least.
His green eyes sparkle (don't even get me started on his eyes, I'd die of embarrassment), though slightly glazed over, and a muscle in his forearm twitches. Well, he certainly looks flustered. That's got to count for something.
Oh god… Why did I do this? I could've at least been a bit more mature about it. Or… or less tacky at least!
No, Al. Stand your ground. He won't take you seriously otherwise. "For crying out loud, sir, say something," I mentally plead, "Anything."
You're probably wondering what's going on. Why I'm so nervous, why Mr. Kirkland (or really, you know, Arthur) looks like I've just slapped him with a fish, why I'm currently standing in a slightly provocative pose instead of being tutored like Kirkland was expecting. The answer to this question lies in one simple sentence.
Basically, if you're wondering, I've just told my English teacher that I want him to fuck me.
Perhaps not my best choice, but hey, what's the worst that could happen?