His Indecent Lessons 2 by Sky Corgan Page A

rampant with thoughts of what was underneath them. I had already seen his impressive cock, but the rest of his naked body remained a mystery to me—a mystery I hoped would soon be discovered.
    “Come on in,” he said, stepping aside without so much as a smile.
    “This is a nice place.” I gazed around the interior of the house, which was every bit as expansive as the outside made it seem. Like Damien's desk at the college, the house was absolutely immaculate, with everything in its place. You'd never know that a bachelor lived there.
    “This place is a lot bigger than I would think someone can afford on a teacher's salary,” I noted, following him into the living room.
    “Well, it wasn't entirely bought on my salary, to be honest. I made a sizable amount of money when the stock market crashed. While other people were busy trying to get out, I was putting money in. After the stock market recovered, I cashed out about half of my investments and bought this place,” he told me.
    Definitely, a smart man.
    Damien sat me down and offered to get me a drink. While he went to retrieve it, I took some time to look around. His home décor was very contemporary, with lots of angles and neutral tones. There wasn't a whole lot of art, but the few paintings I did see were all abstract. The house didn't have a very lived in look, to be honest. More like something out of the pages of an interior design magazine.
    When he returned, I thanked him for the water he brought me. He sat a few feet away on the large sectional sofa, angling his legs to face me and pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, which I quickly realized was the questionnaire he had me fill out in agreement to taking his lessons.
    “I want to take some time to go over this first and get to know each other a little better before we begin. During this time, you can ask me any questions you might have,” he said. When I didn't respond, he continued, “You have pretty much no sexual experience, right?”
    “Mhm.”
    “How old are you?”
    “Eighteen.”
    “Eighteen,” he repeated the word with distaste, his expression sulking into disappointment.
    “Is there something wrong?”
    “I thought you were older.”
    “How old did you think I was?” I cocked an eyebrow. It wasn't often I was mistaken for older than I actually was. Usually, people thought I was younger by a few years.
    “I thought you were at least in your early twenties.”
    “Oh. Well, is my age going to be a problem?”
    He sighed. “No. You're already here, so I'm not going to rescind my offer. Had I known how young you are though, I never would have considered it.”
    That stung a bit, and somehow felt like a rejection yet again. If he didn't feel comfortable doing this, then maybe it wasn't worth doing. I thought about telling him that, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing my second chance with him. My stupid mouth already screwed things up once. If he truly didn't want me, or this, then he would have to turn me away. Blatantly. I would not be leaving otherwise.
    “How old are you?” I asked.
    “I'm thirty-one. I'm sure you can understand why this makes me uncomfortable. If my age makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to do this,” he told me, sounding a bit too hopeful for my taste. There was no way I was going to let him go again though.
    “No. I'm already here. You're a great Art Appreciation teacher. I'm sure you'll be good at teaching . . . other things.”
    “Art Appreciation is an easy class to teach. Sex subjects are a bit more intense and intimate,” he said, still staring at my questionnaire as if he was afraid to look at me.
    I wasn't sure what to say, so I didn't say anything.
    He took a deep breath before continuing, “You seem like you're pretty open-minded towards learning just about anything. Your hard limits are very basic. Is there anything else you aren't willing to do?”
    “Hard limits?”
    “It's what they're called in the BDSM world. Basically, things