Date: Mon, 15 Feb 2010 02:56:27 -0700
From: ecclectic_soul@hotmail.com
Subject: Secret Admirer: Chapter 2, The Note

Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait! Like before, any similarities to real
people or circumstances are merely coincidental. This story contains
graphic sexual content which is not appropriate for minors. I hope you
enjoy this next installment, and I'd love to get any feedback,
encouragement, criticisms, etc. if you have any!

Secret Admirer: Chapter 2, The Note


	"Secret admirer is the Disney calling card for a stalker, Cynth."
Ever since that strange night at Pine Peak Bar when what bar back Mike
tagged as a `guy in a dumb jacket' dropped fifty dollars for our tab
without so much as a hi, my best friend Cynthia was like a chipmunk on
helium.

	"Oh my God, oh my God, oh...my...GOD!" Her familiar dog whistle
squeal made me wince. "I'm so excited for you! I've never had a secret
admirer, but they give so many gifts and love letters..."

	"...and visits in the middle of the night with masks and sharp
objects. We don't even know who he is! All we know is that he apparently
has no style." I was determined to steer Cynthia off this track. We were
sitting toward the back in European History, the only class we shared. It
was held in a semi-circle lecture hall with Mr. Mendel, our apathetic
professor who always droned on as if he had lost all hope in
humanity. Luckily, if you received good grades (which we did), he rewarded
you by letting you do whatever you wanted to during class. Cynthia and I
jotted down a comment he made about French Victorian politics before
quietly continuing our conversation.

	"I think you're just afraid of someone liking you that much."

	"Well of course I am! Haven't you ever read the Stalker Handbook?"
I teased.

	"No, but I'll be sure to check it out sometime." Cynthia rolled her
eyes before turning back to the presentation. Just then, the door to the
class opened, drawing everyone's curious eyes. In stepped...

	I gasped softly, blushing in shock. It was Hazel Eyes, the new
boyfriend of snotty Hannah Remington...and one of the two people I couldn't
get off my mind. I had tried to banish those full lips and hypnotic eyes
out of my thoughts, but it seemed impossible. I mentally slapped myself for
having it in for yet another straight guy.

	To make matters worse, instead of the letterman's jacket and jeans
he wore to the bar the other night, he had opted for signature dark wash
Buckle jeans and a white button-down shirt with a gray and black argyle
sweater over it. In short, he had in the space of a minute just graduated
from merely hot to dangerously attractive. I sank slowly down into my seat,
trying to distract the growing feeling in my pants by reciting my
notes. Cynthia glanced over at me and stifled a small giggle.

	"Uh, you look like you have indigestion."

	"I'm fine."

	"It would make sense if you did. Hannah's boyfriend just had to
transfer to our class, didn't he? Are we being punished for something we
did in a past life? It's moments like these that I wish I had brought a
cocktail to class. Or that my boyfriend was in the mafia. Oh well, I guess
it could be worse...or not. What's wrong, Jay? What's with the
my-ulcer-just-popped look?"

	"I'm fine." My impatient, will-you-please-stop tone caused her to
tilt her head with confusion before rolling her eyes again and turning to
peer down once more at the new student. Mr. Mendel motioned for him to find
a seat, and then turned back to the overhead projector. His piercing eyes
roamed the class before he took a lone seat a few rows down from us. But
the distance did nothing to stop my dick from pushing stubbornly against
the crotch of my jeans. It was painful as my heavy, hardening cock pulsed
with the thought of his sexy crooked grin and that tight ass cresting the
back of his pants. I adjusted my position, lifting my feet and placing them
on the head of the chair in front of me. Damn it! I thought, mentally
punching myself for the twentieth time that day.

	Cynthia's concerned whisper was at my ear. "Seriously though, are
you okay? You keep getting that look."

	"Look?" I questioned with fake innocence.

	"Yeah faker, that look like someone just drop-kicked you in the
gut. I know you too well for you to hide an expression like that."

	I sighed, shaking my head. "I'm alright. I guess I've been in kind
of a funk lately. I'm not sure why, though."

	"Well, you better shake it off soon before I really drop-kick you
in the gut. The game is tonight and we're having fun, whether you want to
or not. Tommy is going to be there..." She trailed off, grinning wickedly.

	"Tommy Salami? I'd like to be able to walk a straight line this
week, Cynth." We burst into hushed laughter, ducking down and covering our
mouths as the teacher glanced up at us before telling the class about the
next homework assignment. Tommy Salinger had been my on-and-off fuck buddy
for about six months. His only redeeming quality, seeing as he had an ego
the size of Alaska, was that he sported a massive cock to match. The reason
he was on-and-off was because every time he fucked me, my ability to walk
became on-and-off. That, and the only thing he could ever manage to talk
about was himself.

	Class ended soon after, my spirits lifted as we reminisced and
laughed about my awkward limp three weeks earlier. Grabbing my tan
Aeropostale messenger bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I walked out
with Cynthia among all the other chattering students. I didn't risk a look
back at those hazel eyes for fear that I wouldn't be able to walk straight
for another reason. We walked up a flight of stairs, since our classroom
was on the basement level, and headed toward the entryway. Cynthia smiled
happily over at me, glad to be out of our last class for the day, and then
glanced down with a look of puzzlement in her bright blue eyes.

	"Hey, where's your textbook? Did you actually use your bag?" Her
tone said she didn't believe that was possible.

	I stopped before the entryway doors, patting my bag to feel for the
textbook inside. Naturally, it wasn't there. "Oh shit, I must've left
it. Go outside and wait for me--I'll be right back!" I was already
jogging down the stairs as I said this, hitting the hallway on the bottom
floor at a run. Moving swiftly through the empty corridor, I sped around a
corner and ran right into someone coming the opposite way.

	"Whoa there, buddy!" A deep voice exclaimed, chuckling
softly. Oddly, that voice sent a chill of pleasure up my spine. I looked
up, apology on my face as I opened my mouth to say sorry. I
froze...couldn't speak...couldn't even breathe. Those same hazel eyes, now
so close to my face, swam with flecks of gold that glimmered brightly as he
smiled abashedly at me. Even in the sterile lights of the Core Humanities
building, his skin still looked so warm.

	"Oh! I'm...God, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to...I wasn't paying
attention! Sorry!" I finally clamped my lips shut, looking down as an
embarrassed flush crept up my neck.

	"Hey, no worries! It was my fault, not watching where--"

	"No, no!" I laughed nervously. "I was like NASCAR around that
corner, and--"

	"Nah, you're cool! I..." His voice trailed off as he cracked a grin
and brushed his hand against the back of his neck. He cleared his
throat. "Yeah...anyway, I gotta get going. Sorry again. But hey, I'll see
you in class next week? I promise I won't clip you at the door."

	I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Yeah, same here. Uh...yeah,
I'll see you Monday." I slipped around him before I could embarrass myself
anymore and walked up to the classroom door. Chancing a quick glance back,
I saw that he had gone with only the memory of his heart-stopping grin and
sensually warm cologne left behind. I closed my eyes and shook my head,
refusing to replay the awkward scenario that just took place. Enough, I
told myself before stepping into the empty classroom.

	I ran up the stairs and down the aisle back to where I had been
sitting. My forgotten textbook was on the ground propped up against the
side of my chair. Sighing, I reached down and grabbed it. As I picked it
up, a small envelope slipped from between the pages and fell at my feet. I
didn't remember having marked my pages with anything, let alone empty
envelopes. I swept it up off the floor, and turned it over in my hand,
staring at both blank sides curiously. I started in surprise as I realized
it was sealed; I definitely didn't bookmark my textbooks with mail.

	Pushing my index finger under the seal, I broke it and lifted the
flap. Inside the envelope was a folded note. Looking around the empty
classroom and wondering who was playing the joke, I sat down and unfolded
the note.

	Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I can't get you out of my
head. I want to run my hands over every inch of that perfect skin, force
open those soft lips with my tongue, slipping my hands down your pants and
massaging your tight little ass with my fingers. I want to feel you ride
me, feel your hard cock pressing against mine. I want to slip inside you
from every angle, make you beg for it, tease you with my hard cock until
you can't stand it anymore. God baby, I'm strokin myself right now just
thinking about it. All I want to do is fuck you so good you won't want it
from anyone else ever again. If I can have that tight ass wrapped around my
wet fuckin cock just once, I can die happy. You're all I want baby, and I'm
gonna show you.

	I was speechless, letting my hand say the things I couldn't
manage. My right hand had a tight, spit-soaked grip around my throbbing
cock--I had never been so hard for anything in my life. My hand whipped
across every slick inch of my dick, twisting across the pink head as I read
the note over and over again. My imagination ran wild, imagining all the
dirty things I wanted to do with this person, this man I had never seen or
met but who I couldn't stop thinking about. I could feel it now, a
sensation building at the base of my cock and deep in my balls. I squeezed
my dick harder as I pumped my hips up and down, pushing all eight inches
into the tight wet hole of my hand. Then, in the middle of an empty
classroom holding a stranger's note with my jeans around my ankles, I shot
the most intense cum I'd ever had, white ropes spewing from the head of my
cock as I threw my head back and moaned.

	Shakily, I pulled my hand back and let my dick fall onto my
thigh. I was gasping, not only for air but for an explanation...a sign that
I was just dreaming and none of it was real. But all I had was an unsigned
note, cum all over my legs in a classroom, and the knowledge that I was
falling for someone I'd never even seen.

	One unsteady word escaped my lips, one that summed up the entirety
of that moment. "Shit."