Summer Story

[diabolical_Tanya]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body">[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/704555_dwl.gif[/img] Thanks fi de idea Tanya [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/kissteeth.gif[/img] &lt;--kiss. See ho much installment mi did poas tiday? Now mi can cut back. Thanks again [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70409-waytogo.gif[/img] </div></div> [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70388-shameonyou.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/crybaby.gif[/img][img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70388-shameonyou.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/crybaby.gif[/img][img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70388-shameonyou.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/crybaby.gif[/img][img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70388-shameonyou.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/crybaby.gif[/img][img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70388-shameonyou.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/crybaby.gif[/img]
noh badda come wid dat

[Bandana]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body">[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/704555_dwl.gif[/img] Thanks fi de idea Tanya [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/kissteeth.gif[/img] &lt;--kiss. See ho much installment mi did poas tiday? Now mi can cut back. Thanks again [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70409-waytogo.gif[/img] </div></div>

[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70456-eyebrows.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/bexbad.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70394-bawlout.gif[/img]

[ILP]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body">[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/704555_dwl.gif[/img] Thanks fi de idea Tanya [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/kissteeth.gif[/img] &lt;--kiss. See ho much installment mi did poas tiday? Now mi can cut back. Thanks again [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70409-waytogo.gif[/img] </div></div>

TANYA [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/mad2.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Blame tanya [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/ideathink.gif[/img] Cause si dis poas? t'would've been an installment... [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/whistle.gif[/img]

[Bandana]

Re: Summer Story

[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/whatever.gif[/img]

[applepie]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body">[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/704555_dwl.gif[/img] Thanks fi de idea Tanya [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/kissteeth.gif[/img] &lt;--kiss. See ho much installment mi did poas tiday? Now mi can cut back. Thanks again [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70409-waytogo.gif[/img] </div></div>

As dem sey inna court house.........Jury, Please disregard the last comment. [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/704555_dwl.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

((applepie)) yuh scarce eeh? bou courthouse [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/whatever.gif[/img]

Anyway, mi a go paste whe mi jus write...

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Chapter II

Michelle twisted her neck and waved frantically. Her mother was becoming tinier by the moment, her treasured paisley patterned scarf moving lazily back and forth, belying the intensity with which her mother waved it. And then she was lost amidst all the other farewell wishers and Michelle faced forward her fingers digging deep into her palms her stomach a riot of nerves and nausea.

She had done her best to show her mother a brave face. She had hid her terror and anticipation. She had covered over her nervousness with research questions. She had concealed her excitement and panic. She had lied her way to mature assurance. She knew she had succeeded because her mother eventually became belligerent and almost recalcitrant. Her daughter was going to Jamaica for a summer holiday. What had she done to deserve to such a treat, such a gift? Mrs. Williams had begun to feel quite bitter that she was not going even though she deserved the trip more than anyone else.

But Michelle had been faking it. The joy of going away for the summer had battled with the pain of leaving Earl. Yes, she’d longed for school to be out, so that she could have some time to think, to come to a decision. But this would give her too much time, and there would be too great a distance between them.

This trip for her mother, who had come to think her daughter as undeserving, would prove to be touchstone. A place in the strand of her life at which she could look back and know what had made her the woman she was to become.

Michelle’s ears popped. And she exhaled. She glanced at her watch. They’d been airborne for one hour and thirty-five minutes. God. It was going to be a long trip. She was not interested in a movie. She was not interested in listening to music. She knew where her interest lay but and she closed her eyes to welcome it. Behind her lids the pleasant face of Mr. Earl Simmons appeared. Michelle sighed and got lost in the revisit.

Earl & Michelle

Lisa flipped her blonde hair and studied her blue metallic eyeshadow, clumpy masacara’d lashes and her overplucked eyebrows. She chewed her gum and popped it loudly, while she traced her lip gloss with her pinky.. “So have you guys heard? Mrs. Marshall was in a car accident or something. I don’t really know, but I don’t think she’s like, coming back or something.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Katelyn called from the other end of the filthy girls’ washroom. “I hadn’t heard about that.”

“Yeah, it was in the papers I think. Or on the news or something.”

There was a smattering of snickers from girls craning to appraise themselves in the spotted mirrors, while they fixed their hair, touched up their makeup and arranged their clothing. Leah adjusted her bra and turned to get a profiled view of her chest. “Who’re you trying to kid?”

Raucous laughter greeted that. “Did you just call her a whore?” a voice from a closed stall asked in glee.

“Bitc-” Lisa whirled around.

“No I didn’t,” Leah laughed in protest as she dug through her purse, her backpack hanging limply from her shoulder. “What am I, British? I’d have called her a ‘ho’.”

“So what’re you, black?” Katelyn snickered.

“Whore, ho, Lisa, isn’t it all the same thing?” the voice from the stall called over the flushing of the toilet. “I just wanna know if it’s true that Mrs. Marshall wasn’t coming back. And Lisa don’t say you heard it on the news. When was the last time you listened to the news or read a paper anyway?”

“Anything would be an improvement over her, that’s for sure,” Lisa said ignoring the speaker for the moment. “That effing [censored] failed me last year. Made my parents take away my creds for the summer. I couldn’t buy anything!”

“I remember that,” Katelyn chimed in. “It was awful. You had to wear ‘05’s stuff. God.”

“Don’t remind me,” Lisa groaned as she took a last appreciative look at herself. “I’m still traumatised.”

“C’mon, the bell went at least 10 minutes ago,” Michelle called from the door.

There was a collective rolling of the eyes as they followed Michelle with jibes of ‘dweeb, emo, gay.”

The words bounced off Michelle - they were her friends, such as they were and they did not know better. And so she sauntered in amidst her friends into room 12A, into a classroom that was familiar and mundane and found someone who would turn her life around forever.

[ILP]

Re: Summer Story

so weh di rest deh? [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70400-talktohand.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Look up ^

[R00TS]

Re: Summer Story

Oh Im liking this [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/cool.gif[/img]can we ask questions?

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Sure... [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70456-eyebrows.gif[/img]

[R00TS]

Re: Summer Story

how old is she a n d what was she wearin on de flight [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70392-silly.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

She's 17/18. I'on know what she was wearing. How bout you decide? [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/70365-flirt.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Chapter III

“Ladies,” he said, his tone stopping them in their tracks. “I am thrilled beyond words that you’ve decided to grace us with your presence. So thrilled in fact, that I’m going to spend the afternoon with you all, here from 3:30 – 4:30.

“Wha???” there was a collective screeching as the girls howled in outrage and attempted to alternately plead their case and expound the injustice of their sentence.

“Take your seats,” he said mildly. “And do it quietly,” he cautioned as Lisa dragged her draw deliberately. He gave them a moment to get settled while they exaggerated the time that it took to do so. Finally they looked up and noticed him,

Earl


but Michelle had already noticed him. The name she saw on the green chalkboard behind him, proclaimed him to be Mr. Simmons. But his name hardly mattered. She registered his height a good bit taller than her own 5’ 10” self and the width of his shoulders beneath his bomber jacket. She studied his throat where the skin peeked out of the top of his knit shirt and she saw the pulse beat steadily beneath the cocoa skin.

Her eyes trailed down his length, noting his narrow hips and the dreadful unfashionable pants that clad his strong thighs. Michelle gulped and sat up straighter, resentful that her desk was not closer, close enough for her to get his scent. Michelle allowed her eyes to travel back to his and she noted that he was quite ordinary to look at, and she wondered at the unordinary feeling she got from him. She studied his chin, his jawline, his lips, his nostrils as they flared and his eyes as they held hers.

A little squeal escaped her and she felt caught. And she could not look away. The look between them could not have taken more than a millisecond but she felt that an eternity had passed. Michelle felt the sweat despite the relative coolness of the classroom, pool between her breasts.

“Let us begin,” Mr. Simmons said and Michelle glanced down. Something was about to begin.

******

It began innocently enough. Michelle was naturally a studious girl. She was prone to asking teachers for clarification and help when she needed it. So asking Mr. Simmons for help was no exercise in coyness. She really had no agenda. She wanted to learn and she wanted to be near him. She liked his cologne and she enjoyed the feel of him being oh so close, so exquisitely close. Once she leant over his desk and his breath was so close, she opened her mouth to taste it. And there was the time when their hands brushed and she knew, she just knew that he must have felt the electricity that shot through her hands – up her fingers pooled in her palm, before dispersing up her arm. She couldn’t hide the trembling it caused, and she imagined he trembled too, beneath the long sleeve of his shirt.

Michelle enjoyed all that, but she was close to him because he was a good teacher. Much better than Mrs. Marshall had ever been. He brought the subject alive, she tried to convince her friends, he made the subject matter. All that mattered, they retorted, was whether he was big enough, whether the size of his fingers lied.

Her friends were free with their innuendoes and their bodies. And Michelle was no innocent. Still, she had to consider her mother. She had to consider that and she had to be extra careful. There was no one else to turn to should things go awry, except her mother. Who, with her various illnesses, had been on disability for longer than Michelle could remember and was hardly a help to her own self.

It was partly her mother’s condition, her mother’s way, Michelle told herself, why she had turned to Mr. Simmons. It was bad enough not having a father, not even having uncles or male cousins to turn to, if she ever needed. But hardly having a mother was just so…emptying…

Yeah, Michelle liked older men and that in itself had been a protection, until now. Her friends partied with boys their own age. Michelle hung out with her friends and their boyfriends. Those boys had left her cold and she’d turned her attention to her books. Her grades remained steady and good, but her emotional hunger sometime raged.

In an attempt to quench it, she’d given herself to a boy who had been mildly interested. Michelle had been at an all time low, her hunger for companionship, for love and her desire to be needed and held so incredibly intense she’d thought she’d die from the force of it. The boy had been focused on his own accomplishment. He'd wanted to get off and after his release he’d got up, muttered something incomprehensible, tucked his limp penis back into his patterned jockeys, made sure his baggy jeans was hanging suitably low, flexed his shoulders once and left.

Michelle had not regretted giving up her virginity. But she had been bitterly disillusioned and hurt that not once, during the brief coitus, was she held.

Her sexual point of reference had been limited to that one occasion. And she’d never felt the need to lay down with another boy, someone who fumbled and grunted and panted, spent before they had begun. She did not want to lay down with someone who did not know how to use their hands, who’s lips were wet and cold and who pressed them to her neck and breasts like wet towels. She wanted someone who knew how to use their weight.

She’d sensed that all these things would not be an issue with Earl. Mr. Simmons was always so assured, so direct yet so very gentle. She could tell. She could see from the way he handled the papers they submitted, how he licked his fingers as he flicked. The way he pressed the latch on his attaché case, firm and sure.

So when they’d found themselves alone in the classroom, outside noises muted inside noises their breathing, she had moved closer, overcome by a feeling that was older than time. Michelle had taken the paper from his fingers, and had placed her thumb against his lips to stop the words that become a drone.

“Sir,” she’d said, her voice soft and sure and so much older. She was surprised and she could see that he was too. She’d bent and kissed him then, her lips pressing in and in. When he failed to respond, her confidence faltered and she’d stilled before attempting to draw back. But his arms, and those hands, had come up around her, holding her closer and then he’d kissed her.

Their coupling had been brief and fierce. Right there on his desk. The papers and binders had been flung to the ground and her tight low-rider jeans had been pushed down to her knees.

But above the sweetness of him, she’d remembered the kisses that he had pressed into her neck and in the small of her back. She remembered the feel of his hands as they grasped her small breasts and she remembered the threading of his fingers through her hair. She remembered the song that had pealed through her as he came over and over again.

She’d been afraid to look into his face afterward. Not because she was shy. But because she did not want to see regret. She couldn’t bear to see anything but the total and utter love she had for him reflected there. And so Michelle had adjusted her clothing, gathered up her books and her backpack and left him there, even as he adjusted his clothing in silence. She’d left when she only wanted to stay. Michelle had gone home to her mother and her chameleon moods.