The Unknown Object
“No one is available to take your call. Your call has been forwarded to the voicemail for click Hannah Davis. click At the tone, please record your message. When you’ve finished recording, you may hang up or press pound for more options.”
Ryan Capestrani sighed in frustration and hung up the phone. He’d already left a couple of messages and he didn’t want to leave another, not wanting to come off as pestering Hannah.
It was strange—Hannah never cancelled on him at the last minute. It was one of the things he loved to tease her about, how if you looked up the word “punctilious” in the dictionary, you’d see a photo of her staring back at you. Then she would inevitably nudge him in the ribs before coming in for a kiss.
Over the past few months, after his promotion at work, he’d been much busier than usual, and he knew that, as the school year was ending, Hannah was stressed. That’s why he had planned something very special for Friday night.
For about four or five weeks now, he’d been hinting at wanting her to move in with him. Ryan had just put a down payment on a new apartment, and it was certainly big enough for the both of them—he’d even made sure there was an extra room available that she could turn into a study-slash-library.
Yes, as he looked around at his new apartment, he could affirm it was certainly big enough for the two of them to live together as boyfriend and girlfriend.
Or as husband and wife.
He searched in his pocket and took out a small, velvet-covered box. He opened it, looked at the engagement ring he had bought last month.
When he’d first met Hannah a year and a half ago, she had charmed him. She’d been a customer at the place he managed, a Japanese restaurant named Kampai, with some of her old college buddies. She’d come across as intelligent, witty, and very beautiful. She also asked incisive questions about the cuisine that showed she was a total foodie. He kept finding excuses to drop by her table and essentially became her personal waiter that night. Before she left his restaurant that night, he gave her his number and jokingly told her she could call him if she had any complaints or suggestions about her meal.
Two days later, she’d called him back and they’d spoken on the phone for hours. A few months later, Hannah confessed she wanted to call him back the same night she’d met him, but didn’t want to seem too eager.
Ryan had never believed in soul mates or in love at first sight before he met Hannah. But the more he knew her, the more deeply he fell for her—he even loved her odd little quirks, like the fact that she had six or seven books lying around her place, because she would switch between readings depending on the mood she was in, or the fact that she was incredibly particular about where she sat whenever they went to a restaurant because she believed that there was a scientific way of knowing which table would get you the best service.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Hannah had told him once she hadn’t realized how wonderful sex could be until she’d met him. Ryan felt the same way—when they were together, they weren’t just having sex. They were making love, in the truest sense of the word.
The past eighteen months had been the happiest of his life, and he hoped that he’d been able to bring the same amount of joy to Hannah’s. He wanted these happy days to keep going on forever.
And tomorrow, he was planning on popping the question. He’d reserved all of Kampai for just the two of them—the place where they’d first met, the same exact table. Dinner, and then…the proposal.
He closed the ring box, scratched his salt-and-pepper beard.
He’d planned to eat dinner with Hannah tonight, drop a few more hints about wanting her to move in with him. Set up tomorrow’s surprise.
But now, he was worried some dumb bullshit might come up with her school and she might have to cancel.
He admired how dedicated a teacher Hannah was, how devoted she was to her students. He wished he’d had a teacher like her when he was a student, he’d told her more than once, and he meant it. But he didn’t life how soul-sucking the job was for her. Ryan knew that the parents were demanding and rude, that the administration pressured her to take on more and more duties, and that some of her co-workers leaned on her to do everything in their place. He’d mentioned the possibility of finding a new place to work, in the food industry, with higher pay and less aggravation, but she’d refused to hear of it. She was a professional educator, and it was something she was very proud of.
Ryan put the ring box away.
I’ll just call her tomorrow morning to confirm dinner, he thought. I wonder what she’s doing now—probably still having that parent-teacher meeting about that problem student.
At that moment, Hannah Davis was dealing with a problem student, in a way.
Deep in the throes of her illusion, she believed herself to be at a luxury resort in Bali, rather than in Tim’s messy bedroom. Believing Tim to be her beloved Ryan, she had used her mouth on him, swallowed his seed. Now, she was on top of Tim, taking him to the heights of ecstasy.
Almost spellbound, Tim looked as his cock disappeared into Ms. Davis’ pussy, as she took him inside her. Just a few hours ago, she’d been reprimanding him about cutting class. Now, she was using her sweaty, overheated body to pleasure him.
Ms. Davis rhythmically moved her hips up and down, taking his turgid cock deeper and deeper into her vagina. Her beautiful, pneumatic breasts, topped by erect, light pink nipples bounced with every movement, creating a delightful jiggle. Tim massaged the pliable mounds with one hand, gently pushing and pulling at the lovely teats. He kept the other hand on Ms. Davis’ hips as she rode him.
Occasionally, Ms. Davis would slow her rhythmic grinding and lean down to kiss him, their tongues intermingling. She would whisper in his ear how much she loved Tim (or rather, Ryan), and then continue her humping, her fucking.
The tightness, the wetness, the sloppy sounds of intercourse.
Both Tim and Ms. Davis were soaked in sweat. As far as Tim was concerned, the sheen of sweat on her pale skin only served to enhance Ms. Davis’ beauty. She was sensual, sexual, amazing. Nothing like the distant, strait-laced teacher he’d had in his history classes at school. Her tight, silky pussy squeezed his cock each time she dropped herself onto him. Ms. Davis, Tim thought, had a body built for sex.
He started pistoning his hips up and down, following Ms. Davis’ rhythm. She quickly caught on to the idea and increased her pace.
A mental image entered Tim’s mind…Ms. Davis, naked on all fours, next to Heather, Mom, in the same position, as he took turns entering their pussies, grading them on their performance, their tightness.
Fuck, why stop there?
He thought of his sister’s friends from track and field—Jenny Li, Tricia Moore, Samantha Andrews. He imagined his Aunt Lily and her daughter Emily (he’d never even considered the two up until now, but his mother and sister seemed to have awakened a taste for the forbidden fruit within him), Eddie’s mom (he wondered if she’d started that diet he’d ‘suggested’ for her), the girls from Model UN…he could have all of them…
He would have all of them. Members of his ever-growing harem, just like Dr. Müller once had.
The thought of that was too much. He increased his pace, grabbing Ms. Davis’ hips with both hands. He could feel his seed rushing from his balls and up his cock.
“Ahhh, baby, wait, I’m almost there…I’m almost…fuckkkk! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”
Ms. Davis gave a guttural scream of pleasure, and Tim could feel her entire body tremble. Just then, he orgasmed and his cock exploded into her waiting womb, a spray of his thick seed gushing into Ms. Davis’ hot hole.
After what seemed like an eternity, she collapsed on top of him, panting, her chest heaving. Her soft breasts squeezed against his chest, and he could feel her hard nipples press into his skin. He could feel himself soften inside her, and their comingled juices leaking out of her hot pussy, onto his crotch, and then onto the bedsheets.
He embraced her tightly.
“That was…ahhh…that was amazing…,” Tim whispered into her ear, breathing heavily.
“I’m glad,” Ms. Davis whispered back. “I like making you feel good.”
Ms. Davis’ chest heaved. Tim looked down at those perfect breasts, usually hidden from sight by modest sweaters and blouses. He made up his mind—none of his women would be allowed to wear clothing when inside the house. Their bodies would always be on display for him, for immediate access. Well, maybe he’d make some exceptions for maid outfits or sexy lingerie….
Samantha Andrews lay on her bed, flipping through the messages on her phone, and then tossed it onto a nearby pillow in frustration.
Still no replies from Heather, she worried. What was going on?
After Heather had told her and their other friends about the situation with Eddie, they’d helped her skip practice yesterday, mostly because they felt sorry for her. They couldn’t imagine what she was going through.
But still, that was no excuse to cut twice in a row, especially with the regional competition less than two weeks away.
Now she was refusing to answer her messages. Samantha grabbed her phone and opened up the chat she had with the other track members.
‘Samantha: Anyone hear from Heather today?’
‘Jenny: Nope. I messaged her a coupla times but she didn’t even read them’
‘Tricia: After yesterday’s BOMBSHELL, maybe she’s just embarrassed to show her face to us??? ಠ_ಠ’
‘Samantha: I find that SUPER hard to believe.’
‘Jenny: Saaaame. Heather’s not that kind of girl.
‘Tricia: Do you guys think she and Eddie went all the way? omg ∑(゜Д゜;)’
‘Jenny; EWWW SICK’
‘Samantha: Not funny, guys.’
‘Jenny: Yeah, I’m sorry. Must be tough for you, with Doug getting suspended and stuff…’
Samantha put the phone down onto the pillow again. She should have known better than to ask those two jokers. They were great friends, but sometimes it seemed like all they cared about was the latest piece of hot gossip.
Samantha was worried. And shouldn’t she be, after what had happened the last couple of days? Her boyfriend had gotten suspended just a few short weeks before he was due to graduate. Her best friend was missing in action, right after making the revelation that she’d been secretly dating the pervert who’d sent Samantha photos of his junk. And to top it all off, as track team captain, it was her responsibility to make sure they were all ready to compete in a big regional competition in less than fourteen days.
Heather and Samantha had always been super close, so it just seemed so strange that she was shutting her out—Samantha figured Heather might avoid Jenny and Tricia since neither of them could keep a secret to save their lives, but her? They’d known each other since elementary school.
Well, there was one simple way of finding out if Heather was really sick or just avoiding all of them—call her house’s number instead of her smartphone. Heather’s mom would let her know and, even if she didn’t, Samantha was sure she could at least get some information from her.
Samantha was in the process of looking up Heather’s home number to give a call to Heather’s mother when she had one disturbing thought.
What if Heather’s dorky brother Timothy was the one who answered the phone?
As long as Samantha had known Heather, she’d always found Timothy kind of off-putting. He was usually in the audience during track and field competitions. Samantha suspected he was there to ogle all the female athletes, though he always claimed he was there to root for his sister. That in itself was bad enough, but he was also best friends with that creep, Eddie.
She was staring at her phone, undecided on whether to call Heather’s house or not, when she heard a knock at her bedroom door.
“Come in, it’s open,” she called out.
Samantha’s younger sibling Sophie swung the door open. Sophie and her identical twin sister, Rachel, were a year younger than Samantha, and they usually drove her crazy, though they’d both been pretty subdued since the whole ‘dick pic scandal’ thing. Samantha figured even those two brats could see that she was pretty upset about the whole situation and so were on their best behavior.
“Yo, Sam, Mom asked me to tell you that dinner’s ready. You coming?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, in a second.”
“Hurry up, ’cause she only made like eight meatballs for the spaghetti and if you don’t hurry, Rachel and me are gonna eat ’em all.” With the message given and her mission complete, Sophie ran down the stairs to the dining room.
That was no idle threat. Sophie and Rachel might be skinny, but they packed away food like sumo wrestlers. Samantha envied them—she was on a strict regimen for athletic competitions.
Still, nothing so bad as to stop her from eating a couple of meatballs. She tossed her phone onto the bed, and dashed off to the dinner table, all thoughts of calling Heather momentarily gone from her mind.
Elsewhere, in the West household, the rest of the evening flew by. Tim found he simply could not get enough of Ms. Davis’ body.
After he’d taken a few minutes to recover from ejaculating inside her, just the sight of his teacher’s nude body was enough for the blood to go straight to his groin, and his penis became fully erect once more. He climbed on top of her and fucked her again, her tits jiggling beneath him. She smiled up at him, whispering words of love. That just made him harder, and as their slick, sweaty bodies intertwined, he felt Ms. Davis shiver and orgasm again. After that, it was only a few minutes before he came inside her.
Now, she knelt on her hands and knees and clutched the bedspread as Tim took her from behind, her vagina squeezing his penis tightly. She was so wet he slid in and out of her like a dream.
“You’re so big…so hard.” Ms. Davis moaned as she squirmed against him. “Uhh...yes...that’s...that’s it, Ryan. So good...unngh…make me cum, babe...”
Tim rammed into her again and again, his hands gripping her ass. The only thought in his mind was having more fun with the body in front of him. All the guilty feelings he’d had when he thought he was at risk of getting caught had vanished from his head. He didn’t consider that what he was doing to Ms. Davis was a horrible violation. He just wanted her body pleasuring him, no thoughts in her head other than how she could make him feel good, just another slave in a growing harem.
Ms. Davis orgasmed before Tim did, but she continued to moan after every one of his thrusts. When Tim ejaculated yet again, he almost collapsed onto her in exhaustion. How many times had they had sex that evening? Tim had practically lost count.
Afterwards, the two cuddled and snuggled as though they really were lovers, rather than teacher and student. As Tim ran his hands over Ms. Davis’ body, marveling at the smoothness and softness of her pale skin, he looked up to see her smiling sweetly back at him.
“I love it when you hold me,” she said, snuggling up closer to him.
Tim sidled up closer to her, his arms, feeling her warmth against him. This moment, in the afterglow of sex, was so perfect that Tim wished it could go on forever. He imagined what his life would be like, having a beautiful woman like Ms. Davis as his real girlfriend—going on trips together, eating at fancy restaurants, cuddling next to each other in front of the TV.
It was a lovely little fantasy, but it couldn’t last long.
Just as Tim was about to drift off to sleep, Ms. Davis began stroking his shoulder.
“Hey, babe, I was thinking…”
“Mmmh?” Tim asked, sleepily.
“Why don’t we call room service and order ourselves some champagne?”
“We’re on vacation, let’s live a little,” she said, as she stood up from the bed, began walking around. Tim would have been admiring Ms. Davis’ figure if he weren’t growing increasingly alarmed by what she was saying.
“Say, do you know where the hotel room’s phone is?” she said, looking back at him, still smiling obliviously. “I can’t see it anywhere.”
Of course, Tim realized. She still thinks she’s in a hotel room in Bali. As far as she’s concerned, she’s living it up with her boyfriend.
And with that, he knew, the evening was over. Eventually Ms. Davis would see that there wasn’t any phone in the bedroom, and once she got dressed and stepped outside into the hallway, the scenario he’d created for her would become increasingly implausible.
The jig is up, Tim thought. It was fun while it lasted, at least.
Tim stood up, and walked towards Ms. Davis. If it was time to end this little dream vacation, he had set up a command beforehand that would dispel the illusion and bring her back to the real world.
She looked at him curiously, and even after the evening’s sexual marathon, Tim could feel himself stiffen slightly as he gazed at his history teacher’s perky bare breasts.
Oh, well. Even once she realized who he was and what the reality of the situation was, she’d still be under his control. She’s my slave and I’m her master, just like Ms. Sommer said.
“Ms. Davis,” he said, looking into her sparkling blue eyes. “It’s time to wake up.” He clapped his hands loudly, and the sound seemed to echo through the bedroom walls.
“H-huh? Uh…unnghhh…ahhhh…,” Ms. Davis winced, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. Her entire body swayed and teetered as though she were about to lose her balance. Then, after a few seconds, she blinked, as though waking up from a long dream.
Those same blue eyes Tim had been admiring before began darting around, surveying her surroundings. The messy bedroom. The naked teenager in front of her. Ms. Davis looked down, gasped in shock at her own nudity, and used her arms to cover her breasts and crotch as best as she could.
Then, with a look of growing horror on her face, she screamed.