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Please note that the characters in the story below are fictional. Any similarities to living persons is not intentional. This story should only be read by persons 18 years or older. Do not read this story if it contravenes the laws of your jurisdiction.
Chris’ Red Rocket
I am sitting in the library, waiting for my next student. I can’t even remember what it is I am supposed to be tutoring now. I look in my agenda. I note that I am meeting with a new student Chris at 3:30pm. It’s 4:00pm, and I am still waiting in the library. Although let’s face it, where else would a 4.0 GPA student with no social life be at 4:00pm on a Friday. It’s not like I have entered the student union pub during my two years at college. Chris is probably at the student union drinking right now.
I take another sip of the coffee in my thermos as I wait for Chris to not show up. I will certainly need all the caffeine I can get as I learn how to audit the payables account cycle. I hear footsteps, and I glance up. As I look up I see one of the most beautiful redheaded women I have ever l seen. She approaches the study room I am in.
Her wavy red hair extends to her shoulders. Her emerald green eyes are looking directly at me. She is wearing a black leather jacket, and matching leather pants, and boots. She is holding a motorcycle helmet in her left hand, and she is wearing a backpack. She has to be at least 5’10” and she is likely over 230lbs. Some guys like thin women, and good for them. Maybe I am just wired differently. I just prefer women who are bigger. As icing on the cake, she also has a pierced lip, and crimson lipstick. She is both fierce and beautiful at the same time.
“Excuse me!” she asks. “I am looking for my tutor.”
I take my eyes off of her long and fiery red hair to look at my agenda. I sigh to myself and think why I am never lucky enough to tutor a really hot student like this.
“I doubt it. I am looking for someone named Chris, who is probably some dude who is already drunk off his ass. While I am here looking at sampling techniques to use when reviewing accounts payable. I admire Chris, he must know how to enjoy himself. He is smart enough not to be here.”
A Cheshire cat grin comes across the red headed woman. She extends a hand. “Hi, I am Christina.”
I turn a red color and stand up. “I am so sorry, I just assumed …. “
“Don’t be sorry. I am 30 minutes late. I forgot about our appointment until I was at an intersection and felt my cell phone buzz reminding me of my appointment. I got here as soon as I could,” Christina explained. “I practically raced across the city to get here.”
While Christina apologized I could not help but wondering if I was having a dream. “I am sorry, I just assumed that Chris was some dude wearing flip flops with a beer in one hand, and a bong in the other.”
“No, but that sounds like my brother Nick.” Christina replied with her eyebrows raised. “Or maybe my ex!”
“I am so sorry. I …” stammer like an idiot.
“Are you trying to set a world record for the number of times apologizing to a woman in five minutes?” she asks with a glimmer in her eyes. I could literally stare into those eyes for eternity. “I think my ex already set that record when I found him screwing another girl in the parking lot behind his work.”
“Did the apology work?” I asked.
“Sure, and then I apologized for letting the air out of his tires.”
“It’s just that I didn’t want offend you.”
“I am just messing with you,” Christina chortles. “So I guess I only have thirty minutes left?”
“I really wasn’t doing anything important, and it’s not like I have anywhere else to be, so we might as well complete a one hour session,” I answer, trying to appear smooth. This is a bit difficult considering that I am a huge nerd. I sense she can see right through me. “So let me guess, you’re a marketing student?”
Christina sits down and puts her backpack on the table. “Nope!” She replies.
“Sorry I am used to tutoring marketing students who begrudgingly have to take an accounting course. Are you in another business program?” I enquire.
“Nope, try again!” Christina replies.
“Are you an accounting student?” I ask.
“God no! I would never be able to stand the boredom. I am in the small engines program,” Christina replies.
“Why are you taking accounting 101 then?” I ask.
“It is a long story,” she answers.
“So what is it that you are having a problem with?” I ask.
“Let’s start with the concept of debit versus credit,” she states.
“Think of debit as the greek word for left hand side, and credit as the greek word for right hand side.” I remarked.
“Wait! Why don’t you just say left hand side and right hand side,” she asks.
“Because it is more syllables than debit or credit.” I answer, “as long as your left hand side equals the right hand side, all is okay.”
She sits down and takes off her leather jacket, and her boots. The image of her unzipping her leather makes my heart palpitate.
“Mind if I take my boots off,” she güvenilir bahis asks as she already has one boot off. “My feet are aching.”
I am tempted to offer her a foot massage. However my brain immediately tells me that would not be a good idea considering I just met her. And she looks like she could easily kick my ass.
“Go ahead,” I remark.
We sit for the next hour and go over her assignment. At the end she thanks me. I ask her for her number.
“Ohh!” she grins,” are you going to ask me on a date?” she teases.
“Ah well, ahhh, I thought I should have your number, so we can set up another appointment.” I stutter. I must have been blushing.
I see a smile on her face again. She laughs. “She writes her number on a piece of paper. Are you sure you don’t want to ask me anything else?”
As she is zipping up her leathers past her breast at this time, and I let out a shallow breath.
“Can I ask you something?” Christina asks.
“Sure.” I say. I am still a beet red color.
“Do you ever leave here?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask
“Everytime I am in the library, you are here,” she states.
“Well I am in here quite a bit,” I admit to her.
“What do you do for fun?” she inquires.
“Well I sit on the board as a secretary for an organization, and I take the minutes,” I respond.
“No I mean fun,” she responds.
“I like to dabble in Visual C#,” I answer.
“Have you ever done anything reckless,” she asks.
“I guess it depends on your definition of reckless,” I stated.
She shakes her head. “Guess how fast I was travelling along the highway to get here,” she gloats.
“Well the legal speed limit is 100km/h. So I am going to say 100km/h.”
“Try 100mph!” she responds. She sighs. “Do you know how I found you as a tutor?” she enquired.
“I asked at the tutoring office for the guy that seems to live at the library. And the tutoring coordinator immediately thought of your name,” she responded. “So I figured you must have known your stuff. And, you certainly know a lot. You are a walking encyclopedia.” she said.
“Okay”, I said.
“Take a risk once and a while,” she advised, “you might get lucky. By the way your cheeks are as red as my Ducati.” She then winked at me as she put on her riding gloves, and walked out of the door.
I walked home after that encounter. I wasn’t sure what to think, or feel. Take a risk? Is she wanting me to ask her out? Why would someone as hot as her want to be with someone like me? She could probably have any guy in a second. Is she just trying to just express some form of platitude like life is too short? Well I have another four sessions with her. Why on Earth did she ask me to tutor her? Why on Earth is she even studying accounting? It’s not even something that most mechanics study. What does she want?
I end up tossing and turning that night thinking about her. Thinking of her racing through the night at high speeds on her Ducati. I decided to have a few allergy pills to help put me to sleep.
The next day when I am walking back to college, I hear the sound of a motorcycle. I look over to my right and see her red Ducati as she speeds along to school. She briefly looks over at me as she races along.
I arrive at school and walk into my first class. The Canadian Income Tax Act is literally as thick as a major city phonebook. It is long and complicated. It is the product of 100 years of parliamentary debate, and reactions to court decisions. Yet I still find it simpler and more understandable than things like love, attraction, and sex. Using the Income Tax Act, I can calculate with absolute certainty of the value of the adjusted cost basis of a piece of real property, and the taxable capital gains on said property, as well as the marginal tax owing on the disposition of the property. I cannot with a high degree of certainty how a woman will react to my advances. It’s not calculable. So I retreat to the solitude of the library. Sex is another matter. I have read various biology books, so I understand academically the process involved with sex. I have read about various positions in the Karma Sutra. However I question how on Earth I would actually … do it. I should likely be paying attention to the professor, but I am not.
I leave the class, and happen to walk through the tech section on my way to my Financial Administration course. I happen to see Christina in the hallway. She seemed to be wearing crimson lipstick.
“Hey!” she said.
“Hi!” I say, with a smile.
“Sorry I didn’t stop, but I didn’t have another helmet,” she remarked.
“That is okay,” I remarked.
Behind me I hear someone loudly proclaim, “Whoa, Christina’s getting laid.”
Without missing a beat, Christina looks up and extends a middle finger. “Fuck off Jay!” she said. She motioned for me to walk with her down the hall.
“So I have a test next Tuesday, and I really need help.” she said.
“Is it the second test?” I ask.
“Yes!” she remarks.
“So we need to cover trial balances, türkçe bahis income statements, and balance sheets,” I explain. “When would you like to meet in the library,” I ask.
Christina looked at me and said, “how about we meet in the cafeteria at 3:00pm. I have a three hour class, and I am starving by the end.”
“You don’t think it will be too distracting.” I ask.
“I usually listen to AC/DC when studying,” she remarks.
“I suppose you don’t need a quiet environment when studying.” I remark.
“I am used to hearing engines, and air tools.” She answered.
We meet at 3:00pm in the cafeteria. She gets a bacon double cheeseburger and fries. She asked me if I wanted anything, and I remarked that I had lunch before.
“So where should we begin?” she asks.
“I have to ask, what did you mean when you were talking about I might get lucky if I take a risk?” I inquired. I start blushing
Christina looks directly into my eyes, smiles, and says, “you will have to find that out for yourself. Do you play poker?”
“No, I have never played poker,” I answer.
“Figures! You have a tendency to blush when you get flustered. It’s kind of cute. But it is a huge tell. I don’t think you could bluff me at all. You would lose your shirt to me,” she remarks.
“Thanks! I think.” I don’t know whether to take that as an insult, or compliment.
“I hope I don’t scare you off by asking, but do you have a crush on me.” She asks.
I struggle to form words. How do I say this? Fuck yes absolutely, I was up dreaming about you last night. I open my mouth, “are you psychic?”
“You were sending out vibes the last time. I noticed your breathing when I zipped up my leather jacket,” she says this with a smile on her face.
“Do you find me attractive?” she asks.
I have never had a conversation like this with a woman. Let alone a goddess like her. Why can’t I just get the words out?
I finally manage to blurt out a phrase, “You are extremely hot!” By this time, I am sweating.
“So … Is there anything you would like to ask me?” Christina asks.
“Would you like to go out to dinner with me?” I ask quietly. Although she has been fishing for me to ask this question, part of me is afraid she will turn me down.
“When?” she asks.
“Tomorrow,” I gulp.
“Do you have a car?” she asks.
“No,” I answer.
“I will pick you up in my dad’s car, and then we will go from there.” she remarks.
“Come walk with me,” she instructs.
I walk with her to her locker, where she gets her leathers on, and she gets her helmet. She takes her long wavy hair, and puts it into a ponytail with a scrunchie. She closes her locker, and I follow her outside to her bike.
She straddles the 1200cc stallion, and starts the engine. The image of this gives me an instant erection. Her legs are straddling the mighty 1200cc beast. She puts her gloves on, and revs the powerful engine between her legs. I can imagine it throbbed against her pussy.
She smiles and says, “I will see you tomorrow night babe. I have to fly.” She gives me a come closer gesture with her finger. I move closer to her and the beast of a machine. She pecks me on the lips, and then puts her helmet on, and does up the strap. I see her smile from behind the helmet. She then lets out the clutch, and proceeds to race out of the parking lot. The end of her ponytail sticks out of her helmet, and is held up by the flow of air created by her motorcycles high velocity. This is clearly someone who has no concept of what a posted speed limit is.
I walk home haunted by the image of her rocketing away. Holy Lady Godiva, I think to myself. For the life of me I can’t figure out what she sees in me. I think back to her remarks about her ex. I can’t help but wonder if he was mentally defective. Why would anyone blow a relationship with such an amazing woman?
I lay awake thinking of her long flowing hair, the shade of her crimson lipstick, and the smell of her leather jacket, and her emerald green eyes. I want to look into her eyes forever.
I wake up on Friday morning, and I walk downstairs. I am about to open up my Financial Administration textbook. Yet the image of her haunts me. I could stare for hours at her eyes. Not to mention her boldness. It is a quality I admire. She doesn’t seem to spend her life over analyzing the minutiae of life, or doing cost benefit analysis on what her next move should be.
I should be focusing on a bond yield question, yet I find myself fixated on the image of her racing out of the parking lot. I put down my textbook, and I head upstairs for a shower. I have a quick cold shower, and I head back downstairs.
I quickly complete the bond yield question. The rest of the day is inconsequential, until I get a call at 6:00pm. It’s her.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hi, I have a dumb question” she asks.
“Okay!” I answer.
“Where do you live?” she asks.
“500 Borden St, south of Tamworth.” I respond.
“Shit that must be a hike back and forth? I’ll offer you a ride to güvenilir bahis siteleri school next time.” she answers.
“I should be there in five minutes. So, where are we going on our date?” she questions.
Oh, fuck I completely have no Idea. “What is your favourite place?” I ask.
“Are you in the mood for a drive?” she asks.
“Okay. That sounds good.” I respond. Actually it sounds like the highlight of my still young adult life, but I don’t want to sound too excited.
A few moments later, a red sports car pulls up. I walk out, and notice it is Christina behind the wheel. I can’t help but notice the vanity plate that reads “Hanan1.” I get in what I determine to be a Ford Mustang.
“Wow, nice car!” I remark, as I sit in the leather seat.
“Hey babe,” Christina says, “you ready for our date?”
“Sure, where are we going?” I ask.
Christina pulls out of the driveway, and starts heading south.
“Does it really matter where we go? It’s a surprise, and you’re along for the drive,” she answers devilishly.
She then turns on the CD player, and AC/DC’s Thunder stuck is playing. She looks over at me, and there is a glimmer in her eyes.
We head south towards the freeway, and stop at a red light near the exit ramp. For some reason I feel emboldened. I lean over towards her, and peck her on the cheek. She smiles, and she returns my kiss. She moves her hand for the gear shifter to my left leg. Her hand moves up my left thigh towards my crotch. I feel a tingling sensation from her touch. I groan softly.
As the lights begin to change she moves her right hand back to the shifter.
She makes a right turn onto the freeway on ramp.
“Babe, you might want to hold on to something, and put your head against the headrest” she states. “The 4.6 litre engine in this car can get to 60 in 3 seconds flat.
I open my eyes wide, put my head back, and hold on. Her right foot pushes the accelerator. In a few heartbeats we speed past the 100km/h limit. I look over to her face, and I can tell that speed is her aphrodisiac. We change lanes over to the left. She pulls her foot back on the accelerator, and the car no longer feels like an F18 taking off from the flight deck of a carrier.
“Oh fuck!” I exclaim.
“I think that is the first time I heard you swear,” she said with a smirk. She moved her right hand back over to my thighs, and continued to rub. I am not sure if it was the petting, or the fact I was sitting next to Christina racing down the highway, but I was definitely aroused.
Christina looked over and noticed the bulge in my shorts.
“My ex used to complain that I teased him too much,” she said in a sultry voice. “I don’t play fair, and I love to tease.”
Christina drives to the next exit. I swear we are travelling twice the speed of the suggested ramp speed. I feel the lateral G forces pull me towards Christina.
We travel a kilometer south. I notice a sign on the side of the road. “Hanan’s Toy World.” Is there a family connection?
“Stop one on our tour.” She declares.
We go around to the rear entrance. And she opens the rear door. She punches in a code on the alarm panel.
“Welcome to my family’s business,” she welcomes. She motions for me to follow her to an office.
I enter the office with her, and I notice photos of a younger her wearing motocross gear. She is sitting on top of a dirt bike without a helmet.
“That was after I won the provincial youth motocross championship,” she boasted. “There were a lot of guys that were disappointed they lost to a girl.”
“I bet,” I chortle. “You never cease to amaze me.”
She sits on top of a desk near me.
“So has it become obvious why I would want to study accounting,” she remarks.
“I am able to figure that out now,” I answer.
“Someone has to maintain the books, and my brother is an idiot,” she remarks.
“I will admit that I am a much better mechanic than an accountant. I have been working on cars and bikes since I was 15,” she remarks. “When the Ducati came in, it would not start. I replaced the starter, and now it growls like a beast.”
“It sounds like it is fun to ride,” I remarks.
From Christina’s expression I can tell that I have made the understatement of this century.
“You don’t simply ride a Ducati, you become one with the machine. The seat is angled so your intimate parts are pressed into the gas tank. It has a 1200 cc v twin motor that throbs against you. It rides like an untamed stallion. It accelerates hard, and brakes hard. To get the most enjoyable ride you have to lean with the machine. And, if you are not careful it will throw you off. It is like having hard rough sex,” she explains seductively.
Watching her give this explanation causes my dick to swell. Because I am wearing shorts she can see the effect that she is having on me. She smiles.
She motions for me to come closer. I happily oblige her. She then opens her legs and extends them around me. She then closes her legs around me, holding me in place. Once again I am amazed by her boldness. I have never been this close to a woman before. She is holding me against her. The only thing that separates my swollen penis from her vagina is 3 mm of clothing. She feels me against her. She smiles.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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