THE “TL,DR” (Non-Fiction; Based on a True Story)

Laila was turning 25 and about to make her big “independent-woman” move from a quiet Canadian city, to the exciting busy streets of California. But before she could make her move, there was one thing still left outstanding. 

A very scandalous desire to fuck her old tutor. 

It was a bold move and she had some wild oats to sow. A dirty desire. An aching need to experience her old vivid thoughts in her real life. 

Meanwhile, Glen hadn’t seen Laila since she was in university. So it came as quite a shock when she reached out to him, asking to call and catch up so many years later. 

But he definitely remembered her though; her hidden sassiness and spunk. Her bravery and intelligence. She was quite the perfect young woman, even back then. He knew she would do well in her life - she had beauty and brains. 

Of course, any passionate tutor would be curious to see how their previous pupil has fared in their life. 

It’s just a catch-up. Right?

But why did Laila feel so carnally wicked, as the day soon approached; while Glen felt a gloom of guilt?

Sometimes you just need to FUCK that one person you’ve had on your mind or live regretting it. 

Sometimes you just need to be fucking wild. 

***

PART 1:

The air smelt of dust and cardboard as Laila sat on her carpet, defeated by the sheer amount of moving boxes that surrounded her. With packing tape in one hand and bubble wrap in the other, she forced a big puff of air out of her mouth in a frustrated attempt to blow the annoying bangs out of her sweaty face. 

The energy in her apartment felt flat and empty. Although there was so much stuff yet to be packed, she could feel the life of her place start to disappear. This wasn’t her place anymore. It was basically a goddamn storage unit for her stuff until her big move to Cali. 

The clock in the background, still hung up on the wall and the last to go, was ticking. It had been roughly 5 hours since Laila had focused on anything else other than the brown skyscrapers of moving boxes that surrounded her. 

Sitting down on the floor amidst her progress, she was wondering if this torture of moving was worth it. But truth be told, it wasn’t the demand of moving that was worrying her - it was the enormity of taking a leap of faith, and moving to a whole new country that truly terrified her. The pile of stuff, half in boxes and half in piles around her, was just a cover. 

In the past 5 hours, Laila didn’t take her attention away from packing - not even for a sip of water or a bathroom break. But as she sat there, hands on each knee, drained of energy and thought; her phone vibrated on top of a half-open box. 

It was Ryn, her best friend. 

Ryn was a tad cynical and stoic when it came to emotional support but she was still Laila’s main source of support. With hesitation, Laila picked up. 

***

“Honestly, when did I accumulate so many damn things? How much does one person fucking need? For fuck’s sake, I live alone Ryn!” 

Laila’s voice was a few octaves higher than normal as she frustratingly paced around the maze of moving boxes in the living room. 

Ryn did her best to listen and not judge from the other end of the phone. “I know, but just do your best to get it over with. Throw some shit out that you don’t want and pack the rest. It’s just a part of the process man. You’ll get it done, I know you will!” 

Laila’s old nail biting habit was on the verge of return as she tapped her long finger nail against her bottom teeth. “Yeah,” she began, “urghh, you’re right! You’re right! I just gotta get through this and I’ll be in sunny California in no time!” 

“There you go,” Ryn said in a monotone voice. Sometimes Laila wondered if Ryn was truly happy for her. It was always their dream to move out of their hometown together but Laila was the one to achieve stability and land a job first. Ryn, on the other hand, had commitments that held her back. 

It’s life, Laila thought. But clearly Ryn begged to differ - clearly life was just unfair. 

There was a moment of silence after Ryn’s underwhelming words of encouragement. Laila’s mind began to wander. 

Together, the two were wild and inseparable. They did most things together like best friends do - whether it was good or bad. They believed in balance; work hard and play harder. And let’s be honest, poor and immature decisions were sometimes the catalyst for great memories. 

Now, with Ryn being 27 and Laila at 25, they both craved to go back, and live in the past for a moment. A time before the age of 22 when all the responsibilities of adulthood had plagued them both.

“Hey, Ryn?” Laila began, breaking the silence. “We should go out! Just you and me. We’ll go this weekend, what do you say?” 

“Alright. Yeah.” Ryn’s voice started off low but as she thought about it, the excitement grew. “Why not!? Let’s do it! We’ll go to…” 

“Prohibition!” Laila squealed. Prohibition was the regular spot. A somewhat upscale place and a great opportunity to dress up a little for drinks and vibey music. 

“Yes! Prohibition. Just like old times.” Ryn was pleased. 

“I was scared you were going to say the Pub House or something,” Laila smirked. “I don’t think I can go that far back.” 

“Oh god, no! When was the last time we even went there? Like…” Ryn trailed off. 

“Probably a good four, five years ago to be honest. The only thing that place reminds me of is sticky floors and the smell of sweaty college guys. Solid pass.” 

The unnecessary silence was temporarily gone between the two women as they began to reminisce on the funny tales of their time at the Pub House. 

A good way to end an awkward phone call. 

*** 

As the two women entered the bar, their senses were filled with familiar sounds and smells. It was loud and bustling inside the Prohibition bar - nothing short of a typical Saturday night. 

Laila and Ryn made their way to the bar where they used their charm and other assets to lure the attention of the busy bartenders. This was a move they had perfected over their years of visiting clubs and bars. 

Ryn was the tall slender blonde with long legs and a bouncy ass. She used her charm and feminine dominance to bring men to their knees. She’d do the talking at first, grabbing the attention of their target and holding onto it in a crowd of people. Her height and bluntness was a huge plus. 

Laila was much shorter and her charm came out in a different way. She had long wavy black hair and bronzy skin. She was always dressed a little more classy but at times like this her assets were on display. Laila was blessed with big doe-y brown eyes, an hourglass figure with curves for days, and massive tits. 

While Ryn flirted her way to attention, her ass cheeks peeking out from under her short gothy skirt; Laila focused on nonchalantly leaning against the bar. Her heaving cleavage was on full display as she pressed her arms together and maintained a shy, innocent smile. 

The combination of the two was unbelievably effective despite the two women having completely opposite demeanors and appearances. Perhaps, it was exactly that fire and ice - the unique seductiveness of seeing many types of beauty - that made it so appealing. 

Usually the two were able to continue this charade for an entire night and tonight was no exception. With the attention of a cute tattooed bartender and interested men swooning around them, the two women had a fun night reliving their old ways. 

It was quite the night and both of them hadn’t noticed the time fly by, until Laila took a quick glance down at her phone as she was peeing in the bathroom stall. 

“Oh shhhhiiettt…” Laila sputtered, slightly woozy from all the dirty martini’s she had in the last hour. “It’s fucking 1:45 am Rynnnnn.” 

“I think I just peed outside of the toilet,” Ryn replied, drunkenly ignoring Laila’s surprise. 

“You what?” 

“I think I aimed wrong,” she continued, “oh wait, no I got it. Ha!” 

“How the fuck do you aim wrong. You just have to sit or -” 

“I squatted!” 

“True, okay. Yeah. I can see how that would…” Laila was unable to finish her thought as her slow mind tried to process multiple thoughts. 

Did we drink that much? We should go home now. It’s getting late. How much did we drink? Am I going to be hungover tomorrow? 

Both women rustled for the toilet paper and pulled themselves together. Part of getting older is learning how to compose yourself, even when you’re drunk. 

“I think your tit is popping out. I definitely caught a glimpse of your areola,” Ryn chuckled as she washed her hands, water splashing all over the bathroom counter. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Laila chuckled as she tried to push her boobs back into place. Clearly the fashion tape she had placed was done for the night. And so was she. 

“Let’s go home. I’ll call an Uber.” 

*** 

As both women made their way through the crowd of drunk and loud people, Laila felt herself sobering up. Someone was holding the front door wide open and a gust of freezing cold air was making its way through the packed bar. 

Even with her high heels, it was still hard to see over the top of the people standing in the middle of the room. In an attempt to find the source of the cold air, Laila looked around the room. 

That’s when it happened. 

Ninety-nine percent of the faces she saw were inconsequential. Strangers. None of whom deserved a double-take. 

Except one. 

There was one familiar face in the vast crowd. The face of an old acquaintance from years ago. She watched as the man raised a heavy-bottomed glass of amber liquid to his plump lips. In slow motion, she picked out all the details of his image. 

He was wearing an all black suit with a shiny black dress shirt underneath, the top buttons undone to reveal a strong chest lined with an enticing layer of hair and a solid silver chain. As he raised his glass, she could see a big shiny silver watch around his wrist, to match. 

Any signs of a wedding ring? It was hard to tell from far away. And of course, her vision was a little hazy as she attempted to follow Ryn out of the bar. 

“Hey! Come on, do you need me to hold your hand? The Uber is only 2 minutes away.” Ryn glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Laila was following amidst the crowd. 

“Yes, yeah, I’m coming. Keep going.” Laila replied, locking eyes with Ryn only for a second before turning her head back and looking at the man. 

The man was with a group of people - men and women - all around the same age and wearing semi-formal or professional attire. Although they all looked like co-workers based on appearance, the casual laughter and body language between them indicated a social gathering of friends. 

And there it was, like the crack of a whip. His smile. She recognized it, the way he tilted his head down and glanced at the floor every time he let out a wide-lipped smile. 

It was her old tutor. 

It was her old Chemistry and Mathematics tutor.

It was Glen. 

He rarely smiled during their tutoring sessions, but at the odd times she would make him crack a smile with her quirky comments. 

And she never forgot it. 

That smile. 

*** 

It was 11am the next morning and Laila felt the warmth of the sun filtering through her bedroom curtains. 

Stretching and tossing in bed she could tell for certain there were no side effects of a hangover. That was something to be thankful for. 

In the distance she could hear Ryn brewing espresso shot after espresso shot in the kitchen. 

Ryn always woke up before Laila. Ryn was a morning person. Laila was not.

Laila instinctively reached for her phone on the side table. It was only 11:03am, she thought. Surely, there was still time to lounge around in bed.  

As she threw the warm covers back over herself, flashes of last night crept into her mind. Specifically, the glimpse of her old tutor’s smile. 

She never delved into the curiosity as to why his smile intrigued her so much. He was always just a tutor. Someone her family had recommended to her during second year of college when she was struggling a little with her chemistry and math courses. 

At the time, she was hesitant about the idea. He was a very distant acquaintance of the family and a man in his early 40’s. She would have preferred a complete stranger and perhaps someone younger and more understanding of the content she was learning in lectures. 

Having someone pick her brain who had the power and audience to spread word of her intelligence to people she knew, was not something that made her feel particularly comfortable. 

But Glen was a pleasant surprise. When they’d meet at a local coffee shop, he always remained professional and patient. It felt like he was a full-time teacher or professor. And surprisingly, Glen and Laila had a great tutor/pupil relationship. They were compatible. He explained things in a way she understood and she constantly kept him challenged with her zest for learning. 

After a few months, Laila began to trust Glen and they began holding their sessions in the house Laila and her roommates had rented at the time. 

This particular house had two living rooms. One was closer to the front door while the second was an open concept, connecting the dining area and kitchen together. That second living room is where the roommates would converse, like a common area. They’d watch tv, cook, and have their meals there.

The first living room, closest to the front door, was never really used. The landlord had kept a long wooden dining table with matching chairs as a beautiful filler for the space. The girls only ever used the space if they held a party. 

So, it was the perfect space for Laila and Glen to hold their tutoring sessions. Glen always sat at the head of the table, while Laila sat on the side seat to his right. 

The space provided them with lots of room to sprawl out her textbooks, notebooks, laptop, and sometimes a whiteboard they used to practice problems on. It was also a private area, covered by walls on all sides except the one facing the front door and hallway. 

Every Tuesday night, when they’d meet sharp at 6:00pm, there was barely anyone home. All of Laila’s roommates would still be making their way back from class or heading to their sports practices and part-time jobs. 

Glen and Laila slowly began to open up to one another. Laila would crack jokes and sometimes take a break from their sessions to ask Glen if he’d like to join her in the kitchen to make some tea. These breaks would turn into chat sessions where she’d share her experiences at college or her future aspirations. At times, Glen would open up about his own memories. He’d give her advice or just patiently listen as she babbled on. 

She’d fill the conversation with her quirkiness and spunk. Glen would look down at his tea and snicker. 

nothing inappropriate ever occurred between the two, Laila was clearly affected by their student/tutor relationship.

He became a confidant. She became a priority student - less of a job and an enjoyable part of his week. 

That’s all it ever became. Until now…

*** 

Tossing and turning in her bed, Laila could deduce that Glen’s unique smile was one of the many aspects that stayed, everlasting, with her. 

Glen’s smile.

The way he’d look down at the table or look down at the ground in a shy attempt of concealing the emotion on his face. She assumed he only did that for her. It was his way of trying to remain professional, surely. 

It was cute. 

He was cute. 

No, you can’t feel that way. He’s so much older than you. 

Laila was beginning to feel conflicted about the resurgence of her tutor, and more guilty about the way it made her feel. 

Her hands began running up her body to her forehead, where they grabbed at her hair in frustration. She may not have a headache but she was definitely thrown off by what was swirling through her mind. 

Under the covers, she could imagine and feel the weight of Glen’s hand gliding up the side of her body, almost as if she was transported back to the bar last night. 

What if? 

Except, she wasn’t walking towards the exit on the other side of the room, a mere bystander. 

No, she was lightly pushed up against the wall of the bar, next to the bathroom door where the loud music is now a muffled murmur. Glen is standing in front of her, looking down at her with a wicked smile curling up his lips as he slides a hand right up behind her neck, while the other stabilizes him against the wall. 

What if?

He has her pinned. If she so desired, she could slip out from under him but she doesn’t. Instead, she stands, frozen in time, as he moves his hands wherever he pleases. She peers up at him as he leans his face down and licks his plump lips to wet them before laying a soft kiss on her lips. 

None of this happens, but there naked and alone in bed, Laila feels the tingle on her lips as she imagines it all like a clear and vivid memory. 

Her hands move down from her forehead and lay on her breasts, slightly pushing them in together. 

Her fingers graze her erect nipples and her eyes flutter shut. 

What if?

In her mind, Glen is freely exploring his pupil’s body. As they make-out passionately against the back wall of the bar, in a dimly lit hallway, his hands venture over her breasts and slide to her hips. His big hands pull her off the wall and into his pelvis. 

What if? 

She clumsily falls into his embrace, pushing up on her tippy toes to meet and match the level of passion he is providing. 

In her mind, she can see it all so clearly - her body a mere slave to the power of her imaginations. 

She can feel the wetness pooling up between her legs. 

Why was she getting so turned on by the idea of making-out with her old tutor at the back of a bar? 

Why Glen? 

Why sex? 

Why was it she wanted to have sex with him so bad? 

There wasn’t much room for these thoughts. Her desire and hunger to finish what her body had started was too strong. 

She wasn’t thinking clearly. 

Reaching down between her legs, she laid a finger on her bare pussy. Her swollen lips concealing a flood of wetness underneath. 

Letting her body enjoy the pleasure of her own touch, Laila’s back curls as her finger parts the lips and glides up and down. 

She coats her middle finger in her wetness as the anticipation of the impending climax is making her eager to start fingering herself. She hasn’t been this wet in a while and she wanted to enjoy every second of this feeling. 

Her middle finger was slipping and sliding up and down her slit with ease; every digit was soaked in a slippery clear fluid. She teased at her clit, not touching it for longer than a second and the finger continued to glide from nub to hole. 

The best part was always the clitoral stimulation. Rubbing the tip of her finger on her pussy always made her cum. Rarely, did she insert her finger inside and finger fuck herself. But today was an exception, before giving her clit what it pulsed for, she shoved her middle finger in her pussy with one swift and eager thrust.  

The shock of her finger hitting her g-spot sent waves of pleasure up her spine as she curled back deeper into the bed. 

The bedsheets and duvet began sliding off her convulsing body and she could feel the coolness of the morning air touch her skin. 

Behind her closed eyes she imagined Glen’s hand sliding from its place on her hips, under the hem of her dress - his cold silver watch running along the bare skin of her ass as he grabbed and prodded. 

Was it the cold air of the room, or the vivid imagination of his metal watch gliding across her skin? 

Laila was lost in her pleasure, fucking herself hard thinking about Glen slipping his hand under her slutty g-string and allowing himself full access to her young, ripe pussy. 

She knew he’d shove that big, long finger of his inside her pussy. He’d happily coat himself in her wetness and let his fingers finish the job. 

Her dainty hands were no match. In frustration, Laila inserted two fingers inside herself, thrusting hard and pushing her body down into her own hand. 

With the other hand, she covered her mouth. Ryn was outside, and even with the door closed her whimpers were echoing and bouncing off the walls of the empty room. 

She wanted to cum so bad. 

She wanted to indulge herself in the vision of Glen using her at the back of the bar. 

She wanted to see his lust for her. 

Feel him take what he must have wanted for years. 

Her pussy, a messy canal with a coating of white mush, felt sore. She was growing increasingly frustrated with the rhythm of her climax. 

Her mind was climaxing and convulsing faster than her poor pussy could keep up. 

It wasn’t fair. 

She needed him. 

Only his manly and experienced hands could explore her biology in the right way. 

But her fingers had to suffice. 

Pulling her coated and dripping fingers from inside her hole, she quickly guided them up to her swollen clit. 

As her fingers began to circle slowly around her clit, she couldn’t help but let a moan escape her mouth. The satisfaction of feeling fast ripples of pleasure rise from her legs was unbearable. 

Her mind quickly fixated back on her vision of Glen. 

As her fingers circled and flicked at her wet nub, she imagined Glen kissing down her body. He didn’t bother to push them into a bathroom or bathroom stall. He took what he wanted right there in that hallway. 

He pushed her against the wall and crouched down in front of her. He kissed hungrily at her inner thigh, pushing one leg to the side and above his shoulder for support. 

His lips made their way up her inner thigh, where he breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of her wet and needy pussy. 

She could imagine his voice, the way he’d groan as he saw the thin fabric of her panties stuck to her lips with the glue of her wetness. 

The way he’d hyperfocus on the movement of that silky fabric across her pussy, giving him little glimpses of the wetness at it sparkled across her bare skin when she trembled. 

It felt like ages but it was only a mere seconds before he pulled the fabric to the side, revealing a well groomed pussy with only a patch of trimmed hair at the top in a perfect triangle. 

Her fingers began to numb as she continued to flick and pull at her sore clit. She was so close to orgasming but she teased herself to hold off longer. She wanted to see where he’d go. What he’d go. 

She couldn’t cum without imagining it all. 

Laila slapped her pussy hard 3 times. The sound of her wetness whipping with each slap, echoed louder than she anticipated. 

“Laila,” Ryn called quietly from outside, “you up?” 

Laila stayed quiet, continuing to rub her clit with her hand firmly pressing down on her mouth. Not a peep allowed to escape. 

She held her breath as she continued to imagine Glen between her legs. 

What if?

*** 

Glen grunted as he looked up at Laila for approval. He didn’t need her to say yes or no. He didn’t need a signed contract or agreement. 

He just needed to see the lust and desire on her panting face. And that’s exactly what she would give him if he looked up at her with those eyes, his lips merely an inch away from her aching pussy. 

Glen smiled his little smile and went in for the kill, plunging his serpent of a tongue between her wet pussy lips. Laila grabbed at his hair as he licked and lapped her. He licked every crevice and inch of her pussy, drinking in her heat. 

His tongue was huge. He hid that monster in that mouth and never let it wander on her before. What a crime. 

She felt as his tongue slowed its pace and he held it on her pussy as if he was comparing the size too. 

Laila looked down and locked eyes with Glen. There was a twinkle in his eyes, a glossy sheen from his excited and dilated pupils. 

Immediately, he began to move his tongue again, running rhythmic circles and flicks across her swollen clit. Unable to look down, she succumbed to the ripples of pleasure and threw her head back into the bar’s cold walls. 

His tongue would make her cum right there, in seconds. And she knew he would eat it up and use that wetness to fuck her. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist putting his cock into her tight and needy pussy. The young and inexperienced pussy needing attention. 

“Fuck,” Laila whispered, as her fingers began to cramp and her legs began to seize. The hand she used to cover her moans was now at her side, grabbing tightly at the edge of her pillow. 

Laila wouldn’t make it to the steamy fuck session. She wouldn’t imagine him sucking her creamy orgasm and then spinning her around to fuck her raw, right there. 

The thought of watching him feed on her wet pussy was enough to throw her over the edge, even if she wanted to keep going. 

Pushing her lips together and squeezing her eyes shut, Laila was determined to get past the pain in her forearms. 

Her finger rubbed faster and faster. Nothing was going to stop her from cumming right there on the bed. She didn’t even care if Ryn heard anything or walked in. 

In her mind, the image of Glen’s manly hands grabbing at her inner thighs and cupping her ass was the means to an end. 

Teach me how to cum like a maniac, she thought. He’d like that. Give me one last lesson, Sir.

She locked her mind on the vivid image of him looking up at her as she convulsed and came all over his face. 

She was indeed cumming. 

Cumming hard. 

Her fingers kept rubbing but her pelvis was quivering up and down with the sensitivity of her orgasm. 

“Ouuufh,” Laila moaned, “Glllenn.” 

Her body shook with pleasure. 

Her fingers began to give mercy, slowing down to let her ride out the last ripples of pleasure. 

She felt the sweat coating her skin from her handsy workout. 

“Who’s Glen?” Ryn’s voice echoed from outside Laila’s door. 

Was Ryn standing there this whole time?!?

***

This is Part 1. I will post Part 2 shortly. It's quite the slow burn. Just you wait and see...