Teacher and student

   His breathing was paced, rhythmically following the movement of his body and his partner’s body too. John had always wanted this; he had had a crush for Dean since the first week of class. But it was only now, during the first break of spring that they had come into real contact with each other and everything had unfolded in a matter of days. Dean watched John in the dark and John felt Dean’s face, as they both exhaled and inhaled in almost the same way.

 They shared a kiss and continued, John having his hands on Dean’s chest, moving slowly. Dean grabbed John’s face with one of his hands and he realized he could cover almost the young man’s entire face with it. He didn’t try to do it because it would have been distracting, but he realized he had never been with a man he could do that too. John was, after all, one of his students in college. He had never really paid much attention to him until an incident occurred in recent days.

 John had been caught cheating on a test and Dean, who had gone through that before, told him he wouldn’t get the administrative offices know about the mishap if he repeated the test another day. John, of course, agreed. The day of the repeat test, Dean was prepared to wait for John to finish but summer had started and he noticed how nice John looked in shorts and in a tank top. He began a conversation with him right when the test happened and the next thing he knew, they were having some coffee not far from college.

 Suddenly, Dean moved a little and John made a grimace out of pain. Dean asked if that had hurt but John shook his head and launched himself at him, kissing Dean passionately as if they were about to be separated. Dean kissed the student but decided to change places. He wanted to be on top now. John understood at once and positioned himself like John wanted to. They continued like that, John grabbing Dean’s hands strongly and Dean kissing his neck as they had sex.

 It was not the first time for Dean, being with a student that is. He knew it was a mistake and that it was dangerous but, somehow, he had also being lured into it by that other guy. He had been a year older than John and had been a really bad student for almost all year and he practically offered himself to Dean in order to pass the class. It wasn’t ethical but he wasn’t able to resist.

 The first time they did it was right in his office, just five minutes away from any person with the power to expel the kid or send Dean to jail. But they did exactly that for several other times, until there wasn’t any need for it to continue. The kid moved on with better grades and Dean just stayed there.

 He had being in a relationship with other men his age too. But he could never really work it out with them. They always wanted so much more: someone with a better body, someone that felt younger, someone that could go with them to crazy adventures every once in a while. And although Dean played with risky things, he really didn’t like to go hiking or diving with sharks or anything like that. He was over forty but he hadn’t been through his mid-life crisis. He just wanted to share a moment with someone and just lived through that. He wasn’t interested in anything more.

 That’s why John was so perfect. He would come in his shorts and Converse shoes almost every weekend, to his house, and they would have sex for several hours. He had lost the ability to know if that was right or wrong. He always reminded himself of John’s age: 21. That wasn’t illegal and they couldn’t do anything with that argument. It’s not like he was a high school teacher. But, nevertheless, he knew he could have problems.

 John finished first but gave Dean some time to finish too. They kissed afterwards and rested for some minutes, before John put on his clothes and announced he had to leave because he had to go help his mother with some arrangement for a barbecue party they were going to have for the whole family. Dean thought that was very sweet but he didn’t say anything. He just gave John one last kiss at the door.

 As he showered, moments later, he realized that when John left, he had wanted to go after him or asked him to stay. It was the first time he felt that. He had never had that issue with the other boy. He had been such a business transaction, that even the sex was not even exciting or interesting. It had been just something to do, and that was it. No pleasure or interest in anything from any side.

 Dean massaged his skin with liquid body gel, John closed his eyes and decided to remember John’s body, centimeter by centimeter. He knew his legs perfectly, his buttocks, his back and his chest. He loved his lips and his hair, cut in the way many young kid cut their hair, shorter in the sides and longer in the middle. He liked that and had even thought about getting that in the barbershop but he realized he would look weird in class.

 After all, college began again in only a week and he had to go back to been, or at least pretending to be, a very old man. Every single student thought that just because he had some grey hairs and was over forty, he was automatically an old man. But he didn’t felt like one. Yet, no one wanted one of those teachers that looks older and behaves like a youngster. That’s simply wrong.

 He opened his eyes again; once he was done thinking about John and about every other sexual experience he had lived in recent years. They weren’t that many although he had tried several new things to bring some spice to his life. Dean had tried saunas and discos and sex clubs, all very fun but definitely not for him. In every single one of those places, he had felt he was an invisible person waiting for something impossible to happen. It was pathetic how, when younger men came in any of those places, every guy looked like a hungry tiger. It was pathetic.

 After opening the windows and pulling up the shades, Dean walked around his house naked, looking for his cellphone. The apartment was not very big, so he got really annoyed when something was missing. He finally saw it on the kitchen counter and remembered that the day had begun with him offering some dark chocolate to John. It had been something very cheesy to do, but he really thought the kid would enjoy it.

 Back in his bedroom, he checked his phone and thought about what was always in his mind: did John really liked him or was it just because he was his teacher or because he needed better grades or maybe even just because he was an older available guy? He always asked himself that and the answers that he came up with were always torture. It didn’t make any sense to be thinking about that. It was something that happened and that was it.

 Then, he heard a knock on the door. He put on some boxers to go an answer. As he went to open, he realized they had not been buzzed in. Behind the door were a man and a woman. The woman presented her badge: she was with the police. She told Dean he had to come with them to the police station. Dean tried to ask what it was all about but the woman insisted on him getting dressed and joining them fast.

 He did so and some minutes later he was been interrogated in a small room. Everything got to his brain in waved the size of a tsunami: apparently, John’s parents had hired a private detective to follow their son, as they realized he was never home. They were apparently a paranoid couple. The detective had taken several pictures of them going up to John’s apartment and they were even infrared pictures and audios.

 Dean reminded them that John was twenty-one. The two officers looked at each other and told him that wasn’t true. They had John’s birth certificate and it confirmed he was actually seventeen. He had finished high school with honors with a very young age and decided to enter college right away. After all, it was his first year.

 Dean realized John himself had lied to him. But why? What would he get from that? Was it because he was afraid? The police formally arrested John and, soon, he had no job to go back too. A horrible chapter of his life had just begun and all because of a seemingly innocent lie.

The massage

   My back hurt a lot. It started to get on my nerves that every single morning, without fail, I woke up with every bone in my body aching as if I had been practicing some gymnastics routine while sleeping. I didn’t know if it was the mattress or if my sleep routine had somehow been disrupted. Whatever it was, I had to find a solution fast or my spine would be gravely affected and I would have to sleep on the floor. I would have wanted to change the mattress but that wasn’t really an option: I lived in a rented room and the owner might have an opinion about it. Besides, even if I could do it, I didn’t have the amount of money to allow myself to do such an investment. So the mattress, even if it was the wrong one, was not the answer to my problems.

 So I decided to do something for myself. My body was in pain and I needed to make it better, to be able to walk in the morning without feeling hundreds of knives penetrating my skin. So I decided to try some exercises before and after sleeping time but that wasn’t a very good idea. Not only because I had never done any exercise whatsoever, but also because they didn’t seem to be affecting my sleep. Sometimes I moved less during the night but I had the same back pain as always. I was grateful that hadn’t worked because it could be quite an annoyance to workout just before and after you sleep. I mean, those are the two worst moments of the day to do any physical activity, even if I had been willing to do so. There had to be a better idea, more suited to me.

 It came to my attention one day, while I was taking a walk around the neighborhood. I was new to the area so I wanted to know about all the restaurants, supermarkets and stores in general that operated around my building. Two streets over, I discovered a spa. The entrance was quite small and, thank God, there was a list of prices and procedures on the window, so I didn’t have to go in. They specialized in massaged, have all kinds of them. Maybe that was what I needed: someone to undo all the knots on my back so I could sleep better during the nights. And the price was not too high so if I started feeling in pain again, I could come back in a month or two. I was about to go in but something made me think it twice.

 I went back home and, like an obsessive person, I decided to know about all the types of massages so to know the best one for me. Many were Asian and I had read stories about massage parlors there. I doubted the spa I passed by was a place like that. Anyway, they were very complete and did want something that was rather aggressive. I wanted them to “rearrange”, if that’s possible, all my muscles and bones and make me be able to walk again without having to complain bout something. I then stopped obsessing about it and just assured myself I would go to the spa the next day.

 And I did. It was a Saturday so this time around there were two people in the waiting room, a very small space with two chairs. I had to wait standing up, which was kind of funny considering I had come because my body ached. Anyway, it was not a long wait. Each one of us was directed to different rooms and was asked to undress and put on a gown similar to the ones used in hospitals. Not that I had ever used one but I had seen those many times. The woman that had led me there also told me to lay down on the table, face down of course, and wait there for the masseuse. I did as I was told, leaving all my clothes in a neat pile ad tightening my gown a bit. I lay down in the table and just waited there for five, then ten minutes. I was a bit sleepy when, finally, the door flung open and a man’s voice greeted me.

 I said “Hi”, in almost inaudible register. I couldn’t see more than his legs, as I was on the table with my face on a hole, but I could see his yellow Crocs, moving from one side to the other. He was apparently feeling some form and stretching or so it seemed. He asked me how I felt. I told him my story with the bed and my sleeping “disorder”. He was listening carefully, his feet still all the time. He resumed his walking when I finished and just asked me which scent I liked better: cinnamon or oranges? I chose cinnamon, so he walked out of sight but by the sound I realized he used a lighter and suddenly the room smelled like my favorite type of cappuccino. He also put on some music and I had the weird feeling of being in a really strange blind date.

 Then he started, rather predictably, on my back. I could feel he had big hands or maybe they were just very well suited for this work. I have to say I relaxed immediately. He was using my flesh as clay and it felt really good. Besides, the music and the scent really helped to make the room feel less like a doctor’s office and more like a nice room in one’s house. I closed my eyes for a good while, as he worked on my whole back, moving up and own, and possibly helping himself with some oil. I could smell almonds. Then I realized I had thought I was going to have a woman massage therapist but maybe a man was more suited in my case because of the great pain I was in.

 Then he spoke and I just opened my eyes, as if I had slept with him. What an odd feeling… He asked me if the pain was only concentrated on my back or if the rest of the body hurt as well. I told him the pain was all over but that it was stronger on my back. I saw his Crocs moving and his ankles going up and down, as if he was exercising right there. Maybe he thought I was with my eyes closed. He then told me he was going to do a full massage, trying to liberate the tension from every muscle he thought might have been affected by many nights of bad sleep. He said it just like if he knew me and, frankly, I loved that. I closed my eyes and stood still again, waiting for him to continue.

 I gasped when he grabbed the knot I had made behind my back and released it easily, relieving my whole backside to him. For a moment I thought about standing up and going straight to the front desk to accuse him of sexual assault but then he started massaging my thighs and I realized he had needed to do that to continue the work. Anyway, been touched there wasn’t very common for me so it felt very strange but also very good. Apparently, there was a lot of tension there too. He did bot thighs, then calves and feet. He finished by ding my back and my shoulders and spraying some scent I couldn’t identify all over my body. I guessed it was something to do with aromatherapy. When he was finished, he just walked out and I didn’t have the chance to thank him.

 The following days were perfect. My back felt like new and the rest of my body too. I was even able to do some exercise without suffering and had learned how great it was to give myself a foot massage every so often, specially as I walked around so much. Sometimes I found myself trying to picture how my masseuse looked like but it was a very hard thing to do. I just had his voice, a little deep but not to much, his yellow Crocs and his small exercises while at work. It was almost impossible to create an accurate depiction of him in my mind and I just let it go when I realized he had done a great job and that had to be enough for my brain. Maybe if I went back there, I would see him.

 I eventually did come back but this time it was a woman who did the massage and I was too ashamed to ask for the man that had done the massage the last time. Maybe they would think I was obsessed or that I had a complaint of some kind. So I just kept it for myself. To be honest, the woman did a good job but I still felt the man’s hands and thought they had been created for the job. I was thinking about it too much. So just after the massage I decided to go to the market and just relax buying fruit. The place was very big but not really crowded. I decided to buy some apples and oranges. I committed the stupidity of grabbing an orange in the base of the pile, so others fell to the floor. I caught all except one.

 I went after the orange, walking slowly and crouching to see where it had gone. I finally saw it beneath a vegetable stand selling organic products so I just crawled and took it. When I did, I felt relieved. But soon, I felt a mix of emotions I still have no idea how to explain. There, just a meter away, there were two yellow Crocs, moving exactly like that time in the spa. I got out   of there and saw the man working in the organics products stand. Somehow, I felt I knew him so I just waved at him and said “Hi”. He turned to look at me and, surprisingly, he smiled. He waved back and walked towards me. Something happened there and I wanted to know what.

Ariana & Sex

   Ariana loved sex. She didn’t just enjoy it; she actually adored all that she could feel while doing it. For this, she had been called “promiscuous” and even names like “whore” and “slut”. She did adhere to the thought that she was promiscuous. She did have sex with a larger array of men than usual but she wouldn’t call herself any other names than that. It wasn’t like she did it every single day with every guy she crossed on the sidewalk. She wasn’t a female predator or anything. No, she just loved pleasure.

 People that called her names were often part of one of two groups: the jealous women and the hurt men. The first group was very large and it consisted manly of women that were envious of her because she men were drawn to her. And what made them even more jealous was the fact that Ariana wasn’t the typical kind of girl that one would think was of the promiscuous kind. She wasn’t ugly either but that was alone enough to make all those girls go crazy.

 It has to be said, because people might be thinking it, that Ariana never slept with men that had any kind of relationships to other women. Of course, there were many that try to lie to her about it but, by now, she knew men so well she could tell if they were lying. And if that failed, she had learned to read cellphones and go through wallets without the guys even noticing it. This worked to her advantage very often.

 The other group actually departed from this first screening she did. The rejects, or men who she denied sex too, were often so offended that, instead of correcting their ways, they spread the word of her being someone less than a common prostitute. A man that is hurt is, however, not very dangerous. That is because they do it out of spite, like a small vengeance towards the girl, a childish reaction, to sum it up. And Ariana was simply bigger than that.

 The girls, however, could be very destructive. Some of them had actually done pretty awful things to her but Ariana just kept on going. She knew herself and wasn’t ashamed of anything. When confronted to any of those girls, she acknowledged what she did but she also asked them if they were also envious of her being more free and nice than any of them? Because she was, Ariana was not only liked because of sex. She was actually a great girl, compassionate and a great friend.

 So the name-calling was something she didn’t care about anymore. Ariana just had sex when she felt like it and that was all. She did it only with guys that had earned her trust and, as weird as it may sound, she always asked them for a date first. There, she realized if the guy would be a nice sex buddy or if he wanted more or even if he proved to be one of those obsessed guys that roam around the world. She knew the types and rapidly discarded the ones that she didn’t like and kept close those who she liked.

 Yes, there must be romantic souls reading this going “But what about love?”. Well, Ariana didn’t believed in love so that made all of what she did much easier. She formed no bonds with any of the guys and only slept with them three times, at most. After that she would just lose contact with them on purpose and, most of them, would understand. She did feel something special for a couple of guys but this proved to be that aching people have when being alone for too long. And that feeling doesn’t lead you to love but to despair.

 Of course, she always used protection and if a guy refused to use a condom, she would simply leave or she would expel him from her apartment, whichever was the appropriate thing to do. Besides, she had gone to several classes of personal defense; she was a green belt in karate and knew how to use a knife and a gun. All of this was because her father, a former policeman, had taught her how to defend herself and never allow anyone to turn her into a victim. Of course, all of this had come in handy in the last few years, when many guys stepped beyond the boundaries of their arrangement or when someone tried to mug her.

 She smiled every time she remembered people clapping on a bus when she almost broke a guy’s arm. As the bus was full, he had decided it was time to touch many ladies in their behind and even in other parts. But then he committed the stupid act of touching Ariana and he ended up in police custody. That moment made her proud because none of the other women there had reacted appropriately, all scared and screaming and waiting for others to react. Ariana just wasn’t the type.

 This toughness also attracted men. That’s why, during sex, she could use all that she had learned in self-defense but in a more pleasuring way. No man had ever said anything bad about it and it wasn’t very hard to tell if they were enjoying themselves or not. Actually, one of the things that she liked the most was the fact of feeling the other person’s pleasure. Just feeling it and looking straight at it. It was great and it felt better when she made them feel desired and unique.

 Ariana didn’t like the jock types. Most times she went out with too good looking guys, she would get soon very bored because those guys always think everything about them is just perfect and flawless when it’s not. That safety about themselves relies only in their looks and nothing more so when any woman looks beyond that, it isn’t a pretty sad. So abs and that metrosexual sense of fashion, wasn’t her thing. She did have some lovers of the sort but only because they had something else going on for them. But they weren’t the best lovers, not even close.

 The best lovers, she thought, were the ones that are a bit more reserved but not entirely shy. It’s the kind of guys that are nice and all but also have a bit of a dark side. She enjoyed that very much. Also, the guys that maybe most girls overlooked but which she senses had something going on for them. It was something hard to explain but she was sure many others felt it too. Because it was with guys like that with whom she realized she actually enjoyed sex, far beyond the final act of penetration. It sounds so awful but that’s the word.

 Many men and women think that’s all sex is about when it actually isn’t. Just think about it: you’re alone, naked, with a person you like, hopefully in many ways. Maybe there’s not love but there’s a particular interest, a kindred spirit if you will. How not to get pleasure from such experience? And how not to imagine so many ways to actually experience that moment. All senses are more acute when experiencing pleasure so Ariana knew exactly how to use them all, how to arose her and others, how to fully enjoy everything that the body is and gives.

 And, again, it wasn’t like she was having sex all over the place, every hour of the day. No. She enjoyed I but she wasn’t a freak about it. Some of the objects in a sex shop made her blush still and she only did have any sex with guys that convinced her of it. It wasn’t about fucking random guys. That wasn’t her deal. It was about sharing an experience she liked with people that understood that the body is much more than just a bag were we carry our souls.

 She shared most of her experiences with friends, because people who were really close to her knew about who and how she was and that didn’t bother her at all. She loved to tell and also to hear. Many of her friends, both women and men, asked her for advice and she would give them tips and advices on some tricks she had learned or read about somewhere or even seeing in a movie. She wanted others to enjoy themselves too, no matter if it was with their partners in life or with a new acquaintance or whoever.

 Ariana also learned a lot from her friends because, of course, she hadn’t done it all or anything. In many aspects, she was a very classic lover and it was always nice to give things a twist from time to time. Actually, she loved to talk to her lesbian and gay friends because they seemed to be a bit more open about their sex lives and also because they dared to go a little bit beyond what most straight couples did. Some things were surprising and others were simply too clever. In any case, she always remembered in time to practice them, if the moment was right.

 But anyway, Ariana is much more than a girl that loves sex and the pleasure it gives to people. She’s also an accomplished woman, always trying to better herself in order to learn more and enjoy life responsibly because, as she often states to her friends and lovers alike, “life is only one and it is too short to be spending it worried about what others might think of you”.