He had a shock, a riot of curly hair. Being technical and scientific, he did not know what to do with it.
He used to sneak a peek at my ass when I was not looking and stared hungrily at my lips when I was.
He admitted to me later that he was jealous when I got his friend to type my last-minute papers for my English class.
But that is not what I think of first, when I think of him.
I think of the way he looked, in the deepening evening, the blue lights of the idle screens throwing their light to the angle of his jaw. I hear his startled cry as he came and tried to stifle it, as he did so many times at home, hoping his Mom would not knowingly chuckle in her sleep that her baby was now a man.
The day I decided to see him naked and vulnerable was like any other to him—class, work, caffeine, class, run to fix a stalled computer, more class, another dose of caffeine chased by sugar, work. He did not know he would be locking the door to the world when everyone went home and rutting like a beast.
Honestly, I did not know that we were about to embark on a sweat covered voyage, either. It came to me in the early afternoon, when he asked me if he could buy me lunch. There was a smoke clouding his bright hazel eyes, which I wanted to release and watch float to the ceiling.
Because my timing is good, I caught him closing the lab. Because I have always been direct when needed, I asked him if he wanted to kiss me.
He stepped closer and to use the cliche, fell upon me with a sigh. The sigh turned to moans as my fingers tangled in his curls and his mouth found the lace of my blue bra, his right hand pushing into the small of my back.
Through a tacit agreement, with whispers and sighs, we were side by side, on the floor, against the wall with the big blackboard. Lightly shielded from casual view through the class door window by the always-overflowing recycle bin. A page discarded, by a Sheila who had to write on Hamlet, fluttered a bit in the breeze of the big oscillating fan.
There we were; touching, kissing, disrobing, turning each other on. He was just being born when I went kindergarten at the age of four, so I felt like it was my duty to be the leader. After all, he had absorbed Schrodinger, de Sitter, Guth, Hubble, Hawking and Sagan, as milk for his soul. That left no time for the dirt and heat which was the cradle of the standard teenage boy.
My nipples hardening under his tongue, almost as hard as his cock. Lips getting softer and bruised from frantic kissing and licking. Ears opened then closed to discovery by accidental eyes.
I mounted him, sucking his lower lip in my mouth, so better to gobble his grunts of joy. As I took his length in me, he arched and said my name.
When we flipped positions, I heard a voice in the hallway and whispered that he needed to lock the door. His cock led the way, as he dashed to the door and hastily turned the lock.
Faster than he entered me before, he was in. There we fell into a rhythm that was not only ancient but common to others, in various places all over the world. But he was mine for that moment and I was equally his and…
And…
And.
We were done about 2 hours later. I had to use a window as an impromptu mirror, until I could march to the lavatory and arrange myself. He was pointlessly trying to shake the wrinkles from his khaki pants. I reminded him that no one would see us but the stars and the street lights, so do not worry about it.
Wiping his glasses on his black T-shirt, he burst out in a happy relaxed laugh. That sound, if heard by anyone but me, told the story in a way that even our bared skins could not.
Over our brief affair, we only had a chance to culminate our lust in that lab room one other time. He found that he liked my bed, my floor and my sofa much, much more as a backdrop to our passions.
