u/MaxLDNSH

I stretch out under the parasol, one ankle crossed over the other, the quiet of the pool settling into something almost unreal. The pages of Kafka on the Shore rest loosely in my hand, though I’ve stopped reading somewhere between one line and the next. The iced black coffee beside me sweats slowly in the heat, untouched.

It’s the kind of silence you only get in places that are meant to be busy.

I sense you before I properly look. Not a sound exactly, more a shift, like the air has decided to move differently. When I finally glance up over the rim of my sunglasses, I catch you hesitating at the edge of the pool area, like you’re not entirely sure whether to step in or turn back.

I hold your gaze a second longer than polite.

Then I look back down at my book, but not really. My thumb stays between the same two pages.

“You picked the quiet hour,” I say, casually, like I’m commenting on the weather. My voice carries just enough to reach you without forcing it. “Or maybe you were hoping for it.”

I tilt my head slightly, just enough to see you again over the top of the frames now. There’s a faint, knowing half-smile there, the kind that doesn’t quite commit to anything.

You're eyes are tracing me, my muscular body, thick ginger beard, big legs, strong jawline. My 6'2 frame lounging out on the sunbed. My trunks were short, and I noticed your eyes go down to the bulge, wondering whether you could tell I pack a 9 inch monster.

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Kinks: hotwife, cheating, cuckold, WMAF, anal, ass to mouth, face fucking, degrading, slapping, spitting, creampies

I close the notebook halfway, not to end the lesson, just to pause it. The café is quiet enough that our voices don’t need to rise, just drift between us. Outside, people pass in that steady, forgettable rhythm, but inside it feels contained, like time’s been slowed to match your thinking.

You’re still looking at the sentence you wrote, pen hovering just above the page.

“Don’t rush it,” I say, leaning back slightly in my chair. “You already know what you want to say. It’s just a matter of choosing how.”

I reach forward, turning the notebook a few degrees so it faces me more clearly, my finger resting just beneath your last line.

“You’ve got the structure right,” I continue,

tapping lightly once. “Subject, verb… it’s all there.” A small pause, then a quieter addition: “You just hesitated at the part where it becomes… personal.”

I glance up at you then, properly this time, holding your gaze for a moment longer than a typical teacher would. Not enough to make it obvious. Just enough that it lingers.

“You can say it more directly,” I add, my tone still calm, measured. “English doesn’t always hide behind formality the way some languages do.”

I pick up your pen, but instead of writing straight away, I hover just above the page.

“For example…” I begin, then stop, shifting my attention back to you instead of the notebook. A faint smile touches the corner of my mouth.

“It depends what you actually want to express.”

A beat passes.

“You don’t have to write what you think you should say,” I say, softer now. “Write what you mean.”

\\-

Kinks: WMAF, cuckold, married, cheating, anal, ass to mouth, spitting, spanking, hairy, eating pussy, squirting, thongs

I close the notebook halfway, not to end the lesson, just to pause it. The café is quiet enough that our voices don’t need to rise, just drift between us. Outside, people pass in that steady, forgettable rhythm, but inside it feels contained, like time’s been slowed to match your thinking.

You’re still looking at the sentence you wrote, pen hovering just above the page.

“Don’t rush it,” I say, leaning back slightly in my chair. “You already know what you want to say. It’s just a matter of choosing how.”

I reach forward, turning the notebook a few degrees so it faces me more clearly, my finger resting just beneath your last line.

“You’ve got the structure right,” I continue,

tapping lightly once. “Subject, verb… it’s all there.” A small pause, then a quieter addition: “You just hesitated at the part where it becomes… personal.”

I glance up at you then, properly this time, holding your gaze for a moment longer than a typical teacher would. Not enough to make it obvious. Just enough that it lingers.

“You can say it more directly,” I add, my tone still calm, measured. “English doesn’t always hide behind formality the way some languages do.”

I pick up your pen, but instead of writing straight away, I hover just above the page.

“For example…” I begin, then stop, shifting my attention back to you instead of the notebook. A faint smile touches the corner of my mouth.

“It depends what you actually want to express.”

A beat passes.

“You don’t have to write what you think you should say,” I say, softer now. “Write what you mean.”

\-

Kinks: WMAF, cuckold, married, cheating, anal, ass to mouth, spitting, spanking, hairy, eating pussy, squirting, thongs

I close the notebook halfway, not to end the lesson, just to pause it. The café is quiet enough that our voices don’t need to rise, just drift between us. Outside, people pass in that steady, forgettable rhythm, but inside it feels contained, like time’s been slowed to match your thinking.

You’re still looking at the sentence you wrote, pen hovering just above the page.

“Don’t rush it,” I say, leaning back slightly in my chair. “You already know what you want to say. It’s just a matter of choosing how.”

I reach forward, turning the notebook a few degrees so it faces me more clearly, my finger resting just beneath your last line.

“You’ve got the structure right,” I continue,

tapping lightly once. “Subject, verb… it’s all there.” A small pause, then a quieter addition: “You just hesitated at the part where it becomes… personal.”

I glance up at you then, properly this time, holding your gaze for a moment longer than a typical teacher would. Not enough to make it obvious. Just enough that it lingers.

“You can say it more directly,” I add, my tone still calm, measured. “English doesn’t always hide behind formality the way some languages do.”

I pick up your pen, but instead of writing straight away, I hover just above the page.

“For example…” I begin, then stop, shifting my attention back to you instead of the notebook. A faint smile touches the corner of my mouth.

“It depends what you actually want to express.”

A beat passes.

“You don’t have to write what you think you should say,” I say, softer now. “Write what you mean.”

-

Kinks: WMAF, cuckold, married, cheating, anal, ass to mouth, spitting, spanking, hairy, eating pussy, squirting, thongs