Lambert's fingers curl authoritatively around the comic book, whisk it
into the air above my nose and release their grip. They remain forward,
to attention, stretched, taut with an underlying quiver. The comic, once
my brother's, flickers an arc toward some classmate's chuckling embrace
but my eyes are set firmly upon this impending woman.
nipples tremble slightly too, pushing at the soft fabric of her blouse,
staring me out with their exuberant authority. Her other hand waivers
along the crest of her hip, ushering the audience to her flanks. Her curves
fight harshly the restraining skirt almost overflowing, almost bursting
forth revealing her secrets, her sex, but only almost. They sway, how
they sway and so do I, Miss Lambert's scolding lost on me, outshouted
by the hormonal stirrings erupting within me, my briefs now uncomfortably
tight as the world stands to witness this woman.
I'm sorry Miss Lambert
smiles at me, or is it my imagination?)
I won't do it again
we both know that I will, anything to gain her attention undivided.)
reading the comic, I was reading her, her hips, her lips, her breasts
and her thighs.
time she does smile. God can she see my groin? Is she about to laugh at
me, parade my boyhood to the class as it presses tight to my trousers,
serenading her nipples, reciprocating them?
comes her hand, the fear throbs in my groin - I want to be humiliated
- but no it falls to her side and adjusts the cloth wrapped
to her, strapped to her with belt and button and rests finally on her
hip, just off beat with its partner, enhancing