Those Little Pink Panties: Torturous longing for an explosive night

By Jeremiah K. Black

A teacher drags himself to work, to be caught up in teen drama, when all he wants is to stay in bed and fantasize about his new paramour. The woman of his dreams is also the woman is luckily seeing - and he cannot seem to get over it, get a grip of himself, as tidal wave of desire washes over him.
From daydreaming in bed, to thinking dirty thoughts all day through classes, he decides to buy her a piece of tasteful - yet provocative - lingerie, as he cannot wait for their date later that night. The anticipation builds on like an eruption, all those dirty thoughts and dirty texts spilling into an unforgettable night.
Jeremiah K. Black brings back his witty and unique writing, with an erotic tale that will smother you in delicious wanton.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Berlinable GmbH
• Release date: Mar 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9783956954481

Book preview

THOSE LITTLE PINK PANTIES

Jeremiah K. Black

Artcover: Eva Slovak

Copyright: BERLINABLE UG

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

I thought about it when I woke up: that soft mound of your pussy in my mouth. Lying in bed like that, before the day had even begun. My cock was hard when I opened my eyes. Was I dreaming of you? Did you creep in while I was sleeping? With those slender legs and lips that whisper in my ear? Did I toss and turn without knowing it?

Why can’t I remember that dream? I know you’re in it. You’re in all of them.

Without thinking, my hand went down and wrapped around my cock. I thought of your lips and that dark lipstick you put on when I’m driving and we’re going out for the night. You do it without a mirror because you know it so well - you don’t need to look. I saw your eyes looking up at me, your hair brushing against my hips, your hand cupping my balls. I’m sure I pictured us both lying on our side, my cock in your mouth and your pussy in mine. I dreamt how you’d taste when I slowly ran my tongue around your clit, in that delicate pink skin you keep hidden in your panties. It was shining and wet, I’m sure, in my dreams, as my finger went in.

I wanted to run my hand up and down my cock thinking of you; of all the things I’d like to do to you in my bed when the sun was still down, and the rest of the world was sleeping. I wanted to shoot my cum all over my chest, the sheets. But I didn’t. I had to put it away, shower, drink some coffee, go to work. But it stuck there in my mind: a dark little secret. As the Catholics chanted their morning prayer, your pussy was wet and waiting. As they lamented about sick relatives and costly surgery for ailing dogs, I was tasting your juices. As they crossed themselves, I pushed your thighs apart. As they shuffled off to their homerooms grumbling that it was only Wednesday, I could think of nothing but you in my bed.

Why did we meet every day before classes… before any students are in the classroom? Because they’re Catholic and need to come together and stand in a circle and look at each other and be present and feel the day before it starts and ensure that everyone goes over the same fucking information a dozen times. And then, they’re all teachers so they need to talk it all to fucking death after it’s been said, again.

Janine, the sweet pear-shaped widow who hasn’t changed a lesson plan in 23 years, bless her godamned heart, never shuts up asking us to pray for her ne’er-do-well son, her dad who’s fighting colon cancer, and her cat, that’s right, her fucking cat, who’s in late stage feline leukemia and the bills are piling up in her mailslot. I wish she didn’t have a cat. I wish she didn’t shuffle with her head down in the circle as we all politely pray for Bubbles or Cheeta or whatever the fuck its name is.

Needless to say it was a long day in Catholic School Art Class starting with 8th, then 7th, 6th, 3rd, lunch, 1st, and finally K5. Why do they give my K5 at the end of the day when all the meltdowns are imminent? Because they hate me, that’s