Finally, we're alone. It took some orchestration, but for once, all my carefully laid plans came to fruition. I sit on the desk in my best imitation of being cool about it. The school is empty despite my heart jumping at every sound, real or imagined.

"Aren't you a little overdressed?" you ask.

God, you're daft. Yes, I'm wearing fishnets under my skirt and a choker to study for the team project. Maybe I also just forgot to button my shirt.

Well, it's not your brain I find attractive. It's the way you blow the hair out of your eyes, and your smile and your hands and...well.

"I wanted to look good," I say, looking straight at you. You nod in infuriating ignorance. Boys.

"So, where do you want to start?"

I have an idea. It's stupid. "Our topic is treason, right? I was thinking we take a more sympathetic look at the great traitors of history."

"Uh, ok, why?"

"It'll demonstrate we're thinking critically - you know, focus on what reasons they had. Maybe they did it for a woman."

"That doesn't really absolve them, does it?"

You got me there, but I have to stir the conversation somehow. "No, but it helps us understand. Like, if you committed treason - or, let's say if you cheated on your girlfriend - you would want someone to understand why you did it."

I've leaned a little too close - my cleavage is a little too obviously trying to catch your attention. I can almost see the cogs in your head turning.

"Are you hitting on me?"

I smile what I hope is a cute smile. "No shit, Sherlock."

You frown, but in a way that betrays at least an academic interest - I think I see your gaze running up and down my body momentarily. They can probably hear my heartbeat across town.

"And you think I will cheat on Emma with you?" There's no irony there, just genuine interest at my boldness.

"Yes," I say, but it's a lie. I don't dare to think so.

You smile. "Why?"

Good question - Emma is hotter than me. I need a competitive advantage.

"I'll blow you," I say without batting an eye.

Now you do check me out. Your gaze lingers - the fishnets were a good idea.

"I don't lack blowjobs," you say non-chalantly.

"Emma blows you because it's expected. You are her boyfriend - it's what she's supposed to do." I can't help but follow my argument to its embarrassing point. "I, on the other hand, actually want to blow you. I've fantasised about sucking your cock for months. I don't have any special skills, I don't do like deep throating or any crazy tricks with the tongue, but I really, really want your cock in my mouth. And I think that will translate."

I fear you will laugh, leave, tell everyone about the crazy slut. You don't. Your pose shifts, and I see a bulge in your pants. I take a step forward and put my hand on it.

"Wow, that's really hard," I say out loud without realising it.

"Isn't that the point?" Your hands go under my skirt and grab my ass. My eyes widen and I inhale sharply. You grind your rock-hard cock against my fingers. I bite my lips. Not to look hot - involuntarily, hungrily. I literally tremble with anticipation.

"You haven't done this before, have you?" Oh, now you are all perceptive all of a sudden.

"I've practiced," I say. Like, with bananas and cucumbers. Still, I've practiced. A lot. I think I got this.

I push you onto a chair and get on my knees. My hair's braided, in optimistic, and surprisingly accurate, anticipation of events. I undo the button of your jeans and pull them down together with the underwear.

Your cock jumps out and I take my time to acquaint myself with the sight of it. My left hand goes under your shirt to feel your stomach and your chest. My right explores the object of my lust with the delicate touch of awe. I pull a little to reveal the large purple head. I lift my eyes to make sure it's really you who's holding my head.

"Go on. Suck it."

Don't fuck this up, I think as my tongue tastes you. Just like you practiced. I swirl it around the head and then hold your shaft back as I lower my face to take your balls in my mouth. I suck on them, focused. Your grip on my hair tightens, subtly telling me I'm doing a good job.

My tongue licks its way slowly back to the tip. I lift my eyes before I open my mouth wide to finally take you in. You push slightly, eager to fuck my mouth. My fingers stay around the base as my head moves back and forth. My free hand goes under my skirt to finger my wet cunt - if you had peeked you would have noticed I am not wearing underwear.

You groan, and I let you take control of the speed, pulling and pushing my head. Your rhythm doesn't hinder me, and I like being used.

I only stop for a moment to take a breath and ask: "So, am I better than Emma?"

You smirk at me. "Do you swallow?"

I smirk back. No need to tell you I'd have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if that's what it took. I just lick my lips and open my mouth wide, inviting you back in.

You call me a whore as you fuck my head. It's fair. I am. You pull my shirt and grind your cock between my tits. I am now lying on the floor, two fingers in my cunt as you are sitting on me, drilling my mouth again.

I can feel you coming, and I orgasm just as you empty your load down my throat, one spurt after another after another, till it just overflows and starts dripping down my neck, my cheeks, my forehead.

I open my eyes, the ecstasy fading slowly. I'm gonna have to put the sheets in the laundry basket. I sigh. Maybe one of these days all my dreams will come true.