Marisol sighed as she unlocked her p.e. locker.
'Why the hell did I have to be sick yesterday? God dammit...now I have to make it up after school without Alessandra, Damon or Feliciana.'
She slid her jeans off and slipped her shorts on.
'And to top it all off, I gotta make it up /alone/ with /Mr. Beilschmidt/! Oh my God...'
Marisol took her shirt off and then put her shirt on. She threw the rest of her things in her locker, then shut and locked it. She sighed again before walking out of the locker room and into the gym.
"Finally!" Mr. Beilschmidt said, standing up off the bleachers. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt with a silver whistle around his neck.
Marisol rolled her eyes. 'Way to be fashionable.'
"Don't roll your eyes at me!" Mr. Beilschmidt snapped. "Go and make up your laps." He pointed to the open space in the middle of the gym. "Pacers."
She groaned, but walked out to one side of the gym anyway. She stood at the edge of the basketball court. Mr. Beilschmidt blew his whistle, and Marisol started running. As soon as she reached the other side of the court, he blew his whistle again and she ran to the other side.
At first, she didn't think very much off the pacers. But after about seven or so, her legs started hurting and her breathing was increasing. As soon as the pain in her legs would begin to stop, it'd start right back up again. The second she reached the other side, Mr. Beilschmidt would blow his whistle for her to run to the other side, giving her no time at all to rest.
Every time she ran, the pain would get more intense and her breathing would increase.
"H...how long do...I have to r...run?" Marisol panted out, still doing pacers.
Mr. Beilschmidt crossed his arms. "As long as I say."
"Th...that's not fair!"
He sat down on the bleachers and got comfortable, then blew the whistle. "It seems fair to me."
Marisol, completely done with this crap, stopped running and walked over to him.
"Hey! Did I say you could stop running?"
She looked at him, her breathing short and ragged, her whole body sweating, and her face flushed. "Isn't there...something that I...can do /besides/ running...?"
Mr. Beilschmidt stared back at her like she was crazy. But then his face changed to an awkward grin. Before she could react, he stood up off the bleachers, grabbed her shirt collar, and pulled her into a powerful and forceful kiss. Mr. Beilschmidt shoved his tongue inside of her mouth, searching for hers.
Marisol's eyes were wide with shock, and it didn't go away. She pushed him away, baffled. "M-mr. Beilschmidt!"
"What?" He asked as though he had no clue what she was referring to.
"W-what're you doing?!" She took a step back.
"You want to make up for yesterday when you were sick, right? But you don't want to run, right? So give me your body." He stepped closer to her.
Marisol put her hands up and took another step back. "No! I'd rather take my F!" She stormed off and back to the locker room.
'What the hell was that?! A teacher tried to have sex with me! Ew! I knew that Mr. Beilschmidt was a pervert, but seriously! I did not see that one coming!'
Marisol unlocked her locker and grabbed the towel she had brought with in case she had gotten really sweaty and wanted to shower after make-ups. She walked over to the open showers and undressed herself, placing her clothes on a nearby bench next to her towel.
'Damn...I need to think.'
She turned the water to warm, then stood there for a moment to relax and feel the water droplets hit her head. She slid her hands through her hair and let out a breath that he hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Suddenly, she was slammed against the wall of the shower, a hand holding both of her arms up over her head. Another hand held her waist. Another person's naked body was pressed up against hers.
Marisol gasped and turned her head a little so she could and see who was holding her down.
"Mr. Beilschmidt! What do you think you're doing?! How'd you get in here?"
He smiled a perverted smile. "I'm going to help you make up p.e..."
Marisol started to struggle against his hands on her wrists, pinning them above her head. "No, Mr. Beil-"
"Call me Gilbert," he interrupted.
"Gilbert, why are you doing this?"
"Why are you freaking out?" He snapped.
"Because your my /teacher/!"
"Pfft. Bitch, please. You know I'm just the TA! Why are you freaking out? We're both students, and you know it."
Marisol quit panicking for a second and thought. 'He's right. So why am I acting like this is rape? He has a sexy bod and wants to share it with me! It's not like he's some crotchety old man. Ew...why am I even thinking about that? And why he was here waiting for me to do my p.e. make ups, I have no clue. Either way, he's a student and he's my age. He's incredibly annoying, yet so adorable. He has a hot body and wants to have sex with me. I think I can work with this.'
Marisol flipped around - her wrists were slippery under his tight hold - and faced Gilbert. Damn, was he toned. Trying not to stare at his rock hard six pack, she said to him, "You're right. You're no different from any other ordinary student. And if it will help me make up p.e." - she blinked and looked at him seductively - "then fuck me into oblivion, Gilbert. I want extra credit."
He wore a dirty smile. "Awesome."
Gilbert - with the hand not holding her arms above her head - placed one if his hands gently on one of her breasts. He alternated and felt both, taking note of how smooth and soft they were.
He started to massage them, and Marisol bit her lip as she let out a moan at the wonderful sensation. She had never been touched before, so she's never experienced this feeling. Ever. But Gilbert, on the other hand, has probably had sex loads of times. The way he acts on campus, all bad-ass and awesome. He'd probably be able to get any girl he'd like. And why she had proven this claim and had just given herself to him for just about no apparent reason, she had to clue. Although Marisol was kind of disappointed that this feeling wasn't as new to him as it was to her, but she brushed it off with another low moan as he squeezed her nipple.
"Gil..." She said, slightly tugging at his hold on her arms.
He smiled. "Ha, you like that, don't you?" He squeezed harder.
"Gilbert!" She gasped out. It was more of a gasp than his name, but she was still understandable.
Gilbert stopped squeezing her nipples and instead dragged his hand slowly and lightly down her stomach, his nails brushing her.
She shut her eyes and held her breath as he trailed down her stomach. She shivered she and Gilbert slid down to the ground, both sitting criss-cross with Marisol on top his legs.
"Shh..." Gilbert tried to sooth, but to no avail. He had reached her crotch and was slowly rubbing her clitoris. Of course she wasn't going to relax!
Instead, Marisol let out a small whimper/moan and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to bury her blushing face in her arms, which were still being held above her head as water was currently splashing down on them from the shower faucet.
"Mmph..." She moan/whimpered as Gilbert lowered his fingers and placed one in her opening.
"Wet already?" He asked her.
She opened her eyes a little to look at him. "Shut up. The shower's still on, so maybe it's the water. Besides, this...this is my first time."
Gilbert's eyes widened as he added another finger. She gasped, but he ignored it and asked with disbelief, "This is your first time? You're a virgin?"
"W-why are you so surprised?"
Gilbert looked away for a moment, heat rising in his own cheeks. "Well, I just...it's...hey, I bet a can make a peace sign in your vagina!"
"What? But you were going to- Ahh!" She gasped as Gilbert stretched his two fingers apart, scissoring them and creating a peace symbol.
"Aw, yeah! Vaginal peace! Awesome!"
Marisol winced. "S-stop! Please, Gil! T-that hurts!"
"Oh." He slowly brought his two fingers back together. "Sorry."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "It...it's okay. So, what were you going to say before you changed the subject?"
"Come on, Gilbo! Your fingers are in my vagina. You can tell me anything."
He suddenly added two more fingers, and to Marisol it felt like the peace sign all over again, she pressed her back up against the wall, arms still restrained by Gilbert. She gasped loudly and called out his name.
"What is it?" He asked innocently, responding to her moan when he knew that would only annoy her.
Gilbert hesitated, then looked away from Marisol's eyes as he explained. "I'm shocked that you're a virgin because...well, you're pretty. Really pretty. Beautiful, even... And to see someone like you, this amazing, wonderful, smart, kind-hearted person" - he looked into her eyes - "not sleep with someone just seems a little bit far fetched." He smiled a little. "Not that you're a slut or anything!" He added quickly. "It's just that...you should've met your Prince Charming by now; he certainly would've found you easily: what with your amazing beauty and awesome personality."
Marisol smiled. What...what was this feeling in her stomach? It felt like...like butterflies. As though she was about to give a speech in front of hundreds of people or take a huge test that she had not studied for. This feeling was not because of his fingers rubbing up against her walls, she knew that for sure. This was a feeling that she would get whenever she would glance over at Gilbert, and he would glance back, their eyes locking for a brief second before someone turned away. This was a good feeling.
"A-Ahh! Gil!" Marisol's thoughts were interrupted by Gilbert's next action, which was removing his /four/ fingers, switched his arms that were holding up Marisol's, and placing the head of his throbbing member inside of her.
He looked at her with concern in his eyes. "Does it hurt?"
"Y-yeah...a little. But please...d-don't stop..."
Gilbert listened to her command and slowly, ever so slowly, he crept his way inside her.
"Mmph...nnghh..." Marisol moaned as she took in more and more of his huge cock. She whimpered again, shutting her eyes tightly and blushing. She tried to hide her face in her arms, which Gilbert were /still/ holding up.
He looked at her, his cock about half way inside. "Mari."
She whimpered in response, not able to speak.
"Let me see your face."
She shook her head and only buried it more in her arms.
"Let me see your face," he repeated, stroking her visible cheek with the back of his hand.
She again shook her head no.
"Show me; I don't want to just hear you, or feel you when you're like this or when you orgasm. I want to see you; see your face, your expression, as all these new feelings and sensations enter your body for the first time. I want to see your face as you orgasm, moaning and panting and calling out my name as though it were a twisted chant: the way it rolls off your tongue so perfectly, the special little ring it has when it comes from your mouth, and your mouth only. Marisol, please, let me see your face. Right now, I don't want to see anything but you and your perfect face."
There it was again. That special feeling. That fluttery feeling Marisol got when she was looking at Gilbert and he was looking at her, when they were alone together, when they talked and laughed. Is this...love?
Marisol turned her head to him and opened her eyes to see his red ones staring intently at her blushing, gasping, and moaning face as he kept slowly sliding into her.
"Ah! G-Gil! Fu..."
Interrupting her sex noises, Gilbert notified her and said, "I'm all the way in. I'm going to start moving" - he /finally/ released her arms, but still had one set of fingers entwined with hers - "alright?"
Marisol placed her hand - the one not entwined with his - on Gilbert's shoulder. "It's weird...f-feeling you inside of me...s-skin to skin. It's kinda...cool."
Gilbert took that as a yes and untwined their fingers, gently laying her on her back onto the hard flooring, water still pouring down on them from the shower faucet. He slid out some, then back in. He was slow at first, and then once her walls were somewhat used to the friction, he started moving faster and with greater force, pounding into her over and over again. He cringed his blushing face and was panting heavily. He still managed to look at Marisol's face: the total submissiveness completely drowning her face in a sea of pleasure. She too was blushing, squinting her eyes shut and breathing heavily, moaning and panting and yelling his name as each new wave of pleasure surrounded her, slowly building up. Her fingers were digging into his back, but she didn't shed his blood.
"G-Gilbert! Ahh!" It was starting to build up to much, shoving her over the edge as she panted out her last moans before finally orgasming. "Gil! Gilbert! Fu...yes! More...ah...more! I want you! I need you! I...I love you! GILBERT!" She yelled as her orgasm shot through her, shaking her whole body.
Gilbert, upon hearing her yell out his name with such pleasure, also orgasmed, yelling out her name. "Mm...M-MARISOL!" His cum shot inside of her, warm and sticky. He kept filling her with his load as both of them rode out their orgasm. Cum was seeping out of Marisol's opening, and once their high had gone away, Gilbert pulled out and laid on his back. They both lay there for a moment, letting everything that had just happened sink in, as the water from the shower softly beat down upon them.
After a while, Gilbert broke the silence. "I want you, I need you, I /love/ you?" He asked, repeating what she had said. He sat up and help her sit up too. They were facing each other. "You...?"
Marisol looked away, embarrassed. "Um...t-that was the orgasm talking. Not me."
Gilbert cupped her cheek in his hand and moved her head to look directly at his. "I told you already, I want to see your perfect face. Don't look away from me."
She decided to challenge the statement that had made her feel so giddy earlier. "I'm sure you say that to all your bitches."
He blinked, not expecting the sudden ruin-the-mood comment. "Excuse me?"
"You know what I mean. You've had sex before, lots of times." She hesitated. "...haven't you?"
He slowly shook his head. "No...you were my first."
"Wha...why haven't you done this before? The way you look and act, you're so handsome and amazing and cool...you could get any girl you wanted. So why haven't you done it before?"
Gilbert looked down, embarrassed by her compliments and by her question. He rubbed the back of his wet neck. "That's because I didn't like any other girls. It couldn't've been just some girl, I wanted to wait and share this experience with someone who I...who I loved." He looked at Marisol with that dorky smile of his. "So...I love you, Mari."
She knew it was true, she knew it was coming, yet she gasped when it came from his mouth. To hear him say it aloud...it's amazing to have all your unconditional feelings summed up in three little words. Especially when those words came from /his/ mouth. Towards /her/.
Marisol looked right at him and summed up all of her overwhelming, unconditional, eternal, and true-as-hell feelings for him in three words. "Gilbert...I love you too." Actually it was five words.
Gilbert leaned in, cupping both of her cheeks in his warm, gentle, and inviting hands. Marisol saw every beautiful detail if his face as he got closer: his short silver hair, long black eyelashes, albino skin, and soft, slightly open lips. Marisol also leaned in, opening her lips slightly like his. She shut her eyes and was lead by instinct to the other's lips, touching them in a kiss that was immediately sparking. Something was there, they both knew it.
Their lips melted into each other's, and they pulled closer to an embrace under the steady and gentle beat of the shower. His tongue traced hers, the sparks getting brighter and stronger with each touch.
Neither of them wanted this kiss to end, they just wanted to stay there, frozen in time at this moment: this moment of complete and utter bliss and magic. But as the need for air grew stronger, they reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, but not the embrace.
Gilbert looked into Marisol's beautiful, smart, caring, sweet eyes and she looked into his strong, gentle, trusting, faithful red ones. They both knew each other's unspoken words, unspoken thoughts. They knew each other, they knew that they would always be together. Always. They knew that this was true love, the best kind of love out there.
Gilbert and Marisol pulled away from each other's warm and inviting embrace. He helped her stand up, and she turned off the shower and wrapped her towel around herself. She looked at the man whom she loved /deeply/ with her whole heart and asked him a question she needed an answer to.
"Do I get extra credit?"