Dear Sir: Flashes

Continued from Dear Sir: Part 1....

Never before had a weekend seemed so interminably long during the school year. She sat in her room at the vanity, gazing into the mirror at the bruises on her arms from where his fingers had gripped her. She deliberately pressed her own finger into the blackest spot, and gasped with a mixture of pain and pleasure, her other hand creeping under the hem of her robe....

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He ran through the cold wind. Feet pounding the pavement, arms pumping at his sides, chest heaving. Running from his desires. Running from the feel of her arms beneath his hands, her chest against his leg. Running from the pulse of his body every single time he thought of the young fragile girl who had thrown herself at him... and somehow gotten under his skin. Running from the anger that rose at this fault within himself, he had easily turned down many inappropriate advances before. Running: harder, faster, farther.... and finally standing under a cold shower but still with a hard, throbbing cock that almost seemed to pulse along with the words that kept repeating in a soft, implacable whisper in his mind: I want you, and I hope by the time you read this you'll have decided to have me...

to be continued....