Fallen Angel
Part one
As far as I can remember it was him. I..
🕑 Added 2023-05-02 22:32:52 +0000 UTC
Fallen Angel
Part one
As far as I can remember it was him. I saw him and him alone, not the immature boys trying to get my attention swinging thru the halls like it was a jungle. I felt like he truly saw me and this knowledge that he truly understood women and saw me as a woman sent chills down my spine.
It wasnt one of my classmates who made me feel attractive. It was one of the teachers, Michael, as he would want me to call him later on. I was turned off by the youthful arrogance of the boys, chewing gum, acting like monkeys and being intimidated by me. Michael wore suits and cologne and didnt desire to impress me. He was standing in the classroom doorway when I entered the building and started for my homeroom. He knew who I was. Faculty members gossips about there students and I was confident that I was frequently the topic of there conversations. Whenever he had looked at me before there was little or no excitement in his ryes. Like most teachers he wasn't interested in having a conversation with me. Few wanted to know what I was researching or reading. And I'd any did ask, he or she would merely nod or smile clearly revealing that I was into areas beyond them, reading books they didn't even read in college, but that wasn't true for Michael Jarron. He wasn't especially tall or good looking standing at 5 ' 9" but his green eyes were intense and he his brown hair streaked with Grey was always combed nicely. Something in his face drew me in. I wasn't drawn to conventionally attractive men. A face that showed signs of time and experiences beyond mine and wisdom beyond my own was attractive. He was recently divorced and kept to himself despite all the female teachers vying for his attention. As far as I knew none had won his interest. "Good morning Alison " he greeted me as I started past his room
I paused a little surprised. "Yes?"
I felt more self conscience, and had the surprising urge to bring my arms up and cover my small breasts as if I were top less but resisted. I fought to hold it bath but the heat from my flushed cheeks went down my neck and down my body into my panties. I wanted to know more about him and how I could get his attention beyond being a student but I was afraid to ask.
As far as I can remember, asking questions got me into trouble. Being curious got me into trouble. Curiosity coupled with a thirst for knowledge and a desire to been seen and understood in conjuction with the needs of others seemed to stir up such rage in people. I remember going to the kitchen for a glass of milk one night when i stopped upon hearing my parents moans. My steps halted and i peered into the crack of mother and fathers room where strange noises would emanate. Repulsion mixed with curiosity lay dormant inside as I wasn't old enough to be bothered by the image of my parents entwined in bed. At this time it was just wonderment. Mothers breasts were bare and bouncing as her neck craned back as if she was trying to touch her nose to the ceiling. Father was breathing heavily as his strong hands gripped her hips and pulled back and further across his lap. The covers were falling off the bed and traces of sweat were on there brows. I didn't understand what they were doing but they seemed to be working very hard at it. I thought mommys breasts were beautiful and they stood out to me in contrast to my flat chest. I opened up my shirt and looked down at my nipples so small and I significant. So brown instead of pretty and pink like mommys. My brow furrowed as I felt a twinge of jealousy as I wanted to be the one in daddys arms. He rarely hugged me or showed any recognition or affection. I watched until mommy seemed to collapse onto daddys chest and curled up into a ball crying. This seemed to frustrate daddy and he pushed her off of him. "It's just not enough for you, is it." He said shouted. Her face was buried in the covers and she didn't lift her head as her sobs continued as daddy got up. His physique was far from perfect but I loved his broad shoulders, wavy brown hair and we shared the same inquisitive eyes. "I'll just have to finish the job myself eh". He said. I didn't understand at the time what he was doing as he gripped his cock and began to rub it furiously. Our eyes locked and I thought I would be in trouble for watching instead daddy started to tremble and moan and something came out of his thing. It covered his hands and his eyes seemed glazed over and his mouth open as he stared at me. A moan escaped his lips. At the time I didn't know what it was called. I was glad that he wasn't mad at me. He smiled but shook his head decidedly and I took that as my cue to go to bed.
When I learned what the word orgasm it was far before my peers. My mother had caught me in my bedroom with my hands up my skirt unaware of what I was even doing, right before ecstacy hit and I couldn't control my facial expressions. As she was screaming and slapping me I lost control to my orgasm and my knees buckled as I fell to the floor. She was further horrified of course. I remember listening outside of my parents door as she explained to my father. He had come to my room later to apologize for mother being cruel to me. "Dad I don't understand what an orgasm is" I had said.
"What were you doing when mommy walked in the room?" He had asked with kindness and patience in his gentle voice
I indicated that I was touching my vagina. Dad seemed confused.
'You did nothing wrong Allison. Mommy is angry because she lost the ability to feel pleasure after she had you. She's ashamed of herself and insecure about her body. Will you show me exactly what you were doing?"
His voice tender and patient made me want to do it again. But for some reason I was still afraid of getting in trouble again.
"You won't get in trouble dear, just show daddy"
Reluctantly I pulled down my underwear. There was a creamy stain.
