I went downstairs, still feeling aggressively aroused and angry. Maybe now was not the right time to speak to my mother. In a stroke of luck, she had left the house. Even better, she had left a pizza on the counter. I did not hesitate. Scarfing down two slices, I grabbed a third and headed to my room.

Maybe I should text Ashley about what I saw. She was my best friend, but she would think I was lying. Hell, I was beginning to think I had hallucinated it. Deep down, though, I knew what I saw was real, and it scared the fuck out of me. I growled in frustration and hit the door to my room.

Instant pain shot up my arm. I screamed and kicked the door, which only led to a sore foot. 

I flopped onto my bed. My heart was still racing. I was angry, horny, and now in pain. Closing my eyes, I played the events over in my head. His broad shoulders, muscular body, and the thrill I got watching him. Goosebumps decorated my flesh, and my hand began to rub across my breasts. I pinched my left nipple so hard that I cried out.

"OK! Jen, get a hold of yourself. What the fucking, fuck?" I reprimanded myself aloud. I stopped the sexual administrations my body begged of me and flicked my laptop on. 

It was time to get back on Google, which got me almost nowhere. I looked earlier and found the myths, stories, and fiction ranged from the somewhat believable, now at least, to the absolutely outrageous. I tried modifying my search and got fan fiction of that shitty vampire and werewolf story that everyone liked so much a few years ago.

After what seemed like only a few minutes of searching, I heard the door downstairs open and close. Mom was home. I listened to her soft steps as she did her best to sneak past my room on the way to her.

"Hi, Mom," I called out.

"Oh, Jenny." I fucking hated that name. "You're still awake?" she asked. 

My eyes flicked to the clock in the corner of the screen. What the hell? It’s past midnight. I must have really gone down the rabbit hole. The effort did not leave me with much. I had found one, maybe two, websites that seemed to take a more realistic view of the supernatural.

"Just heading to bed now. Listen, Mom, I will give volleyball a try, but I really do not want to quit cheerleading. I can do both," I told her. "Also, I am sorry."

"Oh, Jenny, it's OK. We have had it rough," she called through the door. 

This was an indicator that she had been out getting laid. Her strawberry blonde hair was probably disheveled, and she probably looked like she had put her clothes on quickly. From experience, I knew it was better not to go out there. She would get embarrassed and insist on making excuses. I did not want to go through all of that right now. Instead, I shut the laptop down and got in bed. I heard her door shut, and the shower turned on.

I did not remember dozing off, but I jolted awake in terror. I had the same feeling as when I saw the horror of the man's transformation. I wanted to run. I wanted to freeze in place. What the fuck is going on with me? I forced myself to reach out from the safety of my blankets and grab my phone.

'Brad, get here now!' I texted and pulled the covers over my head. He did not live far away. I waited for his reply. Then I began to sweat in fear. My body was covered in goosebumps again, and I was trembling. What was taking him so long? Finally, I heard the rumble of his Mustang, the shutting of his door, and him pounding up the stairs.

"Jen! Are you okay?" he asked, bursting into my room.

"Yes, now," I said, shocked to find my voice a whimper. He pulled the covers down. I looked into his blue eyes, my favorite color of eyes. He was in a plain white T-shirt and sweatshorts. His muscular frame made me feel hot. He was a good-looking guy, if too nice.

"You scared the fuck out of me," he said accusingly. I felt my ire rising because I was the one scared. "You never text like that."

"I had a nightmare," I lied. Then another feeling came over me; desire. "I am safe now." He smiled, leaned in, and kissed me softly. I did not want soft. I pulled him down onto the bed and straddled him.

"You want to make love," he asked. 

No, I wanted to fuck, but he would not understand that. 

From outside, clouds parted and the moon cast tree-branch shadows across the floor. I kissed him hard and pulled my top off. My breasts heaved. I was not huge, but there were a good handful. I was bordering between a C and a D cup. His hands reached up to caress me. I pinned them to the bed.

"I need it inside of me," I cried, and yanked my pink lace panties aside. Jerking at his shorts, I was filled with frustration because his cock was not even hard yet. 

"Hold on, slow down, baby," he whispered. I kissed him hard on the mouth again and bit his neck. I moved down to orally excite him. 

Brad loved getting his dick sucked, but what guy didn't. I sucked him into my mouth and deep-throated him. I quickly moved up and down, drenching him in my saliva. His erection popped to its full seven-inch glory. He was not huge, but big enough for me. I eagerly licked and sucked until I could handle waiting no longer. Straddling him once more, I sank onto him.

"Yes," I moaned and bounced. He tried to caress me again, and I shoved his hands away. I did not want love and gentleness. I wanted it hard and fast.

"Babe, what the fuck?" he whispered. I ignored him and gyrated on his dick as fast as I could, bouncing and moaning.

"Just shut up and fuck me, idiot," I growled. 

He shoved me off and stood up.

"What has gotten into you?" he accused, standing before me naked. I rolled over and stuck my ass at him.

"From behind, now," I demanded. 

He moved too slowly for my liking, and as he stepped closer, he fumbled, trying to position himself at my entrance. I roughly grabbed his cock and pushed it inside of me. I was becoming more frustrated. He began to move slowly and gently.

"God, babe, you're so wet," he whispered and continued his slow lovemaking. I moved my hips back and forth, fucking him as he stood there. This was not enough. I pulled off of him and turned to face him.

"Lay down or get out. I need to be fucked, by a man," I said harshly as I once again threw him out of my bed. He looked at me confused but did not argue. I climbed on top of him and fucked him as hard and fast as I could. I ignored everything he said and pleasured myself with his body.

I was moaning and screaming. The bed was hitting the wall. I had never done him like this. I had certainly never fucked him with my mom at home. None of these thoughts went through my mind, though. I felt hot jets of cum shoot inside me. I did not stop. His grunts only made me hotter. I felt like I was burning up. 

Finally, I felt an orgasm coming. He reached for my hips, and I slapped him across the face. I rocked faster and harder. Brad began to go soft beneath me. I pushed his cock up and ground against it. The stimulation against my clit was not easing my desire but holding off the overwhelming feeling of feeling like I was not being able to get enough. I came and squirted hot juices all over him.

Exhausted I flopped over next to him, panting. I wanted more. I needed more. I began rubbing my clit. It was not enough. I inserted three fingers. My hand moved fast, but it was not enough. I was not satisfied.

"Fuck me," I demanded, looking at Brad, but he just stared at me. "Fuck me!"

"Jen, you are acting insane," Brad mumbled quietly. He did not move, and his dick remained flaccid. I growled in anger. What’s his fucking problem? He was never rough, always gentle, but he had never failed to satisfy me before.

"Get out then! Get out now," I growled. Brad slowly moved off my bed. I could see tears welling up in his eyes. With a final look, he put on his shorts to leave.

"I don't know what your problem is, but you are out of control," he said softly.

"Me? You're too much of a pussy to fuck me hard and I have the problem? You can't even get mad at me. I need a man, not a pussy. I'm not into chicks," I said aggressively and pointed at the door. "Get the fuck out before I call the cops and tell them there is an intruder!" 

Brad turned and left. 

Pissed off, I grabbed my phone. 'Jake, you always say you can fuck me better than my bf, get here now. Don't talk. Don't make love to me! Fuck me!' I texted a guy who had graduated last year and had constantly tried to get me in bed.

As I waited, I played with myself and continued to finger. It was not gratifying at all. Waiting for another loser, I finally fell asleep. When I woke up, I remembered the night before and cried. I had never been so cruel to Brad before. I don't know what came over me. I tried to call him, but it went to voicemail after two rings. I called Ashely.

"Hey girl, what's up?" she answered. I told her all about last night and how I hurt Brad between sobs. She just listened for a bit and then spoke.

"Look, Brad is a sweet guy, and yes, you were mean, but what guy doesn't want a hot, horny bitch in bed. He should have manned up and fucked you," she cajoled. "I have told you before to stop cheating and just date older. I fucked a twenty-one-year-old last week. Best sex ever." We talked a bit more and then got off the phone. I got ready for school.

When I went downstairs, there was a note for me on the table. I opened it up and saw my mother's quick, deliberate scrawl. I began to read.

"When you get home, we need to talk," was all it said. I was in trouble. I cried again on the way to my car. My phone still had no text from Brad, and he did not try to call back. I did not even have a text from Jake, your loss, bud.

I met up with Ashely at school. She was flinging her blonde hair back, flirting with some guy. We were in complete contrast. My hair was long and dark brown, my eyes were green, hers a blue, that I was jealous of. She had double-D breasts and a voluptuous ass. I was fit—not that she was not in good shape—but cheerleading had made me into an athlete. Seeing me, she waved and said goodbye to the guy she had been flirting with.

"Did you hear? Mr. Michaels was fired! Apparently, they caught him with porn he shouldn't have," she gossiped. I had not heard. He was gross, and I was glad he was gone. "His ass is probably sitting in lock-up right now."

"Gross," I replied. "He always gave me the creeps."

"Right. I am pretty sure he was trying to look up my skirt one day," she added.

"Yeah, total lech," I said in disgust. What was it with older men wanting your women? "Who will they get to replace him? Nobody good, probably. History, a dead subject."

"No, they already hired a teacher. Another old guy," Ashley informed me. She was always up-to-date on her gossip. We talked all the way to class. The hours of school clicked by, and lunch flew by. My last class of the day was history. I was in no hurry.

I walked in the door just as the bell finished ringing. All the seats in the back were full. Just my luck. I shuffled to the front and sat down. I looked over my shoulder for the new guy. My jaw hit the deck. Standing behind the teacher's desk was a broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a pin-striped suit with a matching vest and a tie decorated in small pale blue dots. Amber eyes met mine and I felt a shiver go through me as his nose flared, drawing in air. Could he smell me from here?

"Miss Pedaleski, I presume? You're late. Stay after class," he instructed, and the ooohs and ahhs of the class followed his orders.

"I was right at the bell," I corrected. Even I could hear the whine in my voice.

"All students will be in their seats at the bell. Late is late, even if it is only ten seconds," he corrected my correction. I stared daggers at him. Was this, revenge for knowing his secret? Asshole.

"That's not fair! I've never been reprimanded before," I cried. He did not respond.

.

"I am Professor Lockett. I have been teaching for sixteen years, since I turned twenty-eight. As we get to know each other, you will find that I have strict rules, but they are easy to follow. I do not accept tardiness. Homework will be penalized for each day it is late until it is a failing grade. Then, if it is turned in, you will receive a failure on the assignment, but fifty points can keep a failure from a zero. Those points can keep a failure from completely harming your passing my course. There are no cellphones or other electronic devices allowed in my classroom," he informed us. 

A hand shot up instantly. "Yes, Miss Mason, I have been informed of your needs; your translation device is an exception. I know the school's policy on food and drinks; I do not agree with this policy, so feel free to snack and have a drink in here. In the back are spray cleaners, brown towels, and a dustpan and broom for the inevitable accidents. The exception to this is food with pungent smells or that is wrapped in foil that will crinkle and cause a distraction. All this being said, while I am strict, I am also fair. If you have extenuating circumstances, see me after class, and we can discuss them. Finally, if you are struggling, I will make every effort to help you succeed. I do not like people to fail my courses; I take it as an insult to my ability to teach." His speech done, he began class right away.

He droned on about the beginning of the French and Indian War. He handed out assignments and what chapters we needed to read. I could not have been more happy for the final bell. I got up with the rest of the class to leave.

"Sit down, Miss Pedaleski," his stern, deep voice commanded. 

Damn. Double damn. I plopped into my seat. He waited for the rest of the class to file out. Once everyone left, he sat behind his desk. He exuded authority and power. I sat nervously, looking back at my door. The silence was killing me. I looked at his pristinely clean desk. The only decoration was a wooden placard with Finnigan Lockett engraved on it. Okay, time to put on the charms.

"Look, Fin, I was late. It won't happen again, okay," I said, gifting him with my most dazzling smile.

"Excellent! Also, my name to you is Professor Lockett," he said. "Time shall tell, as it always does." I got up to leave but was stopped.

"That does not mean you are excused, young lady. Ten minutes," he stated resolutely. 

Ten minutes? What the actual fuck? I was fuming. My arms crossed my chest, and I heaved out a long breath.

"Other teachers don't mind when I use their first names," I claimed. Well, the male ones didn't.

"I am not like other professors you have had. Nor do I break rules, mine or the rules of society," he said, and I felt like he was hinting at the other night's adventures.

"Look, if this is about what," I paused and then finished, "happened, it was an accident."

"You were late by accident?" he asked.

"No, the other night," I stated. He looked at me blankly.

"I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about," he straight-faced and blatantly lied. 

Okay, pushing my breasts up did not work, check. I began to pout and let my eyes glisten with tears.

"I'm sorry, OK," I began, but he interrupted me.

"Crocodile tears will not work either. Miss Pedaleski, I am sure smiling and crying worked on your former instructor, but I assure you, only time and proof in history will work on me," he stated matter-of-factly. "Now you have seven minutes left. I suggest you sit them in silent contemplation of time management and early arrival to my class.

Once my time was up and I left his prison room, the school was damn near empty. There were no sports or other extracurricular activities scheduled on Mondays. I headed straight to my car and went home. En route, Ashley called to ask what he had me do. I explained that he had me do nothing but sit there.

"Too bad." She laughed. "He could have spanked you and called it done."

"Gross, he’s old!" I yelled into the car's mic. Ashely's desire for much older men was disgusting. 

"That's your perverted thing, not mine." I felt like a hypocrite after I had fantasized about him. And then, fucking Brad while thinking of him, I added in my thoughts.

"But he is so hot. All the other girls agree. He can spank me anytime he wants," she said, laughing. "Did Brad talk to you yet?"

"No," I said sullenly.

"He will. That or he is an idiot," she replied kindly. We talked for a few more minutes and then said our goodbyes.

I entered the house to find my mother sitting at the table, and I sighed. Here goes the cherry on top of an already delightful day. I dropped my bag and sat heavily in the chair across from her.

"Are you OK? Jenny, what is going on?" Mom asked so kindly that I began to cry. "Did Brad hurt you?"

"No," I sobbed.

"No, you're not OK, or no, he didn't hurt you?" she asked for clarification.

"Neither," I sniffled.

"Oh, baby," she said softly. "I know you have been sexually active for a while now. I always 

assumed after our first talk that you were being safe. Pregnancy can cause all ranges of emotions."

"What! I'm not knocked up! I’m on the pill!" I screamed. I calmed down and started over. "I was just, well, I needed something Brad could not give me."

"He is a sweet kid. I have always said so. Maybe he is too sweet. Oh, Jenny, you are like me, you need a strong man, and it just seems like none can match up," she said, and I agreed. "I never thought you two would last forever."

"But you love Brad," I said, shocked.

"Well, like I said, he is a sweet kid, but I liked him because you liked him, and I thought he was good for you. You're a woman now. Women need men," she explained.

At this moment, the decision was settled. I did not need or want Brad anymore.

"Thank you, Mom," I said, wiping tears away. "I am going to take a walk." She nodded, and I left the house. 

She was right; I needed a man. I needed a strong man, and I knew just where to find one. One I had leverage over. The one who had haunted my dreams and set my loins ablaze.