Sofie stared out the window. It had been a long day. Fatigue was beginning to settle over her. Sofie taught German at a Danish erhvervsskole. A rather thankless job that mostly came down to making the students’ lives bearable until they could drop the subject. What made her work worthwhile was her mentor class. Sofie taught at a highly mixed school. A somewhat explosive mix of native kids from the old working-class neighbourhood and status holders who lived further along in an old hotel for lack of anything better. Sofie had learned that there was a considerable gap between the media coverage, the loud talk of politicians, and the students as they actually sat in the classroom. No student fitted the moulds into which the talking heads on TV or social media wanted to force them. Sofie enjoyed talking with them about all sorts of things. She would have made a good social studies teacher as well.
Her Christian background meant she placed great value on tolerance and dialogue. She found her mentor lessons the ideal place to ask the students about their ideas and to learn from one another. She noticed that the media also influenced the conversations in class. Discussions had lately more often turned to gender and the division of roles between men and women. Themes that had long seemed no longer an issue were becoming controversial again. Sofie felt extra sympathy for students who struggled with their gender identity and sexuality because of their background. She recognised that struggle.
She saw it reflected widely across the class. Among the children from strictly religious backgrounds, but also among the other students. In the neighbourhood a macho culture was still broadly present. Sofie tried to challenge the students to put themselves in someone else’s place. What if it were about your sister, your mother or your brother, she often mirrored back to them. She hoped to plant seeds this way. Or at least that they would learn to listen to one another, show genuine interest, and learn about each other. Sofie also often understood the frustration these boys and girls must feel with the world. Whether they lived in the neighbourhood or the hotel, many of them had little at home. In that respect they resembled one another more than they thought.
The parent evenings were often long. Not all parents showed up. Those who did sometimes had unrealistic expectations of their children or mainly looked to the school when the grades lagged behind. She also had parents who brought their grievances about society into the conversation. Parents who had trouble with the celebration of Purple Friday,. Parents who had trouble with the conversations Sofie had. She tried to listen and give them a glimpse of what she was trying to achieve with the students. If that didn’t work, Sofie was clear but brief: the school had hired her to guide the students in their contact with one another. If parents had difficulty with the way she did it, they could take it up with the principal. Some parents came together with their children. Others alone. Sometimes they felt the need to be able to speak more freely. Sofie had no problem with that. Now only one parent was still waiting.
Sofie looked at the clock. She had run quite late. The principal had stuck his head around the corner at least an hour earlier and asked if she would wrap things up. She called Lars to let him know she would be late for their evening at Emma’s. He sounded distracted on the phone. His breathing deep. Sofie asked what was wrong. Lars said haltingly that they had already started. Emma was sitting between his legs, whether she wanted to listen in. Emma replied with a mix of irritation and excitement. In her mind Sofie saw Emma playing with Lars’s balls. She grew aroused at the memory of the last time they had done that together. It wasn’t the boldness of Emma starting without her. Sofie actually found that secretly rather deliciously naughty. It was more that Sofie grew irritated at the thought that they would already be satisfied by the time she finally got home. Why hadn’t she been a bit quicker with those parents.
Amir, the father of Youssef, was the last one. He had come alone. Sofie took a deep breath and opened the door. With a smile she invited him in. Amir responded understandingly to the overrun. He said he appreciated that Sofie took the time for the parents. Amir was dressed sharply in a suit. He had come straight from work. Sofie asked after Youssef and his mother. Amir had indicated that he found it rather pleasant to be able to speak with her alone and be open.
He had asked if that was a problem. Sofie had shrugged in agreement. Amir had begun by voicing his concerns about Youssef. He found his son very conservative. He had the idea that this came from the world around him polarising so much. Youssef struggled to cope with the discrimination he experienced from other students. Amir had the impression that because of this he was increasingly finding his identity in the Islamic faith. His views on the relations between men and women sounded downright restrictive to him. Amir foresaw that Youssef would run into problems with this later; women no longer accepted that, not even Islamic women.
Amir found it ironic. His parents had fled Kabul with him at the end of the 1970s. Once a liberal city, the Paris of the Far East where women walked around in miniskirts, if Sofie wanted to believe it. The family Amir came from was not practising at all, not even particularly occupied with faith. It was there, but not very present. His wife, Layla, had a similar background. Her parents came from Tehran in Iran, also once a vibrant liberal city before the ayatollahs and the Revolutionary Guard took power. Yet she too was moving more towards the faith. She had started wearing a headscarf and was increasingly disapproving of his interactions with Western women and men. He felt constrained and no longer really knew how to turn the tide.
Amir sighed. “That isn’t actually why I came alone.” Sofie looked at him questioningly. “I came to apologise.” Sofie indicated she didn’t quite understand. Amir continued, “I was too bold. You looked so beautiful at the party, you danced so wonderfully freely the way my parents used to talk about dancing in Kabul, the way I remember dancing with Layla. I got carried away, I should never have so casually put my hands on your hips.” Sofie felt herself blushing. Now she could place Amir. At the party he had worn a Zorro mask. That was why the penny hadn’t dropped right away when she invited him into the classroom. A mixture of embarrassment and arousal shot through her. “I’m making you uncomfortable,” she heard Amir say. Sofie shook her head.
“I sent some pretty mixed signals myself.” Amir looked at her questioningly. Sofie explained that at the party she had felt thoroughly feminine and had also been a bit on the hunt. “Women do that too, you know.” Sofie laid a hand on Amir’s knee. “I appreciate the gesture, but maybe I owe you an apology as well. If I remember correctly I left you standing there rather high and dry. Literally.” Now Amir seemed to be blushing. Almost endearing, as if he were a little boy, not the attractive man in front of her. The naughty girl in Sofie stirred. If Lars was allowed his fun with Emma, then she was certainly allowed hers too. “Maybe we should call it even,” Sofie said in a challenging tone. Amir looked at her questioningly. Sofie let her fingertips glide a little higher up his leg. “Maybe you should let me be a little bold for a change.” Amir nodded and swallowed.
Sofie stood up. She took his stubbled face tenderly between her long fingers and kissed him softly on the mouth. She moved on to his neck and earlobe. Sofie felt a hand carefully stroke over her upper thigh. She settled onto his lap. Kissed him firmly; he opened his mouth, her tongue slid inside. She felt warmth spreading in her lower belly. Through his trousers Sofie felt that Amir was getting aroused too. She ground her hips and felt his cock growing in his trousers. Sofie began unbuttoning his shirt. Let her fingers run through his curly chest hair. She felt his hands move over her arse.
Kneading her buttocks through her jeans. Her pussy was growing wet with arousal. She rubbed it against the bulge in his trousers. Unbuttoned his shirt further. Kissed his chest as she rose from his lap and knelt between his legs. Silently, lightly moaning with pleasure, Amir let it happen. Sofie undid his belt. Shoved his trousers down. Her hand slid over his hard cock in his boxers. Teasingly she softly bit the bulge in his underwear. Sofie pulled her shirt over her head and let her bra fall to the floor. She rose to kiss his stomach. Her soft breasts slid over the bulge in his underpants. She pulled them down.
His cock sprang proudly forward. Sofie let it slide between her warm tits. She could feel herself soaking her trousers. She licked over his glans. Amir murmured with pleasure in a language she didn’t understand. Her lips closed around his head, her tongue slid along his shaft. His cock was considerable. She couldn’t wait to feel him. She stroked his balls. Took first one into her mouth, sucked gently on it, then the other while she let her hand slide over his shaft. She took him into her mouth again, deeper this time, sucked on him lustily a few times.
“He’s nice,” she said as she came up. She turned around and began dancing sensually for Amir, her hips challenging in front of his face. Amir grabbed them with two strong hands. He bit her arse through the fabric of her jeans. “I want your arse,” he murmured. Sofie pushed her trousers down. Two full buttocks in a thong rotated in front of his nose. Amir ran his hands over them, kissed them, bit into them. Sofie felt the wetness flowing in her cunt. His fingers slid between her buttocks, between her lips, thick, warm and wet. Sofie let out a cry of pleasure. Amir stood up.
From behind he let his hands glide over her body. Pulled her thong down. He kneaded her breasts and kissed her neck. Sofie pressed her firm backside against Amir’s crotch. She felt his cock slide between her legs. Along her labia. She longed for his cock. She bent forward a little. With one hand she leaned against her desk. With the other she guided his cock inside. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre she felt her hole opening further for him.
“Fuck me!” Sofie begged. She revelled in that unfamiliar cock so deep in her cunt. Amir began thrusting. Slowly, but rhythmically. His strong hands on her arse. Amir growled lewdly, began to pick up the pace. Sofie brought her fingers to her clit and began massaging it at the same tempo. Amir thrust harder and harder, faster and faster. Sofie moaned with pleasure. She felt her control slipping. Amir slapped against her. Sofie gripped the desk more firmly. “Jesus, that’s hot!” she cried out. “I want to see you,” Amir said suddenly. He slid out of her and sat down.
“Come sit on me,” he invited her. Sofie slowly lowered herself onto his cock. Amir took her breasts in his hands and mouth. Sucked on her nipples while she ground circles on his cock. Her clit rubbing against his lap. His hand slid through her curls. Tenderly pulled her head back so he could properly kiss her neck. With his free hand he let a breast pass through his hands. Sofie’s hands caressed his back. She sank her nails into his flesh. Dragged them down over his skin. Amir groaned between pain and arousal. He lifted her by the buttocks and carried her to the desk. Swept it clear with one movement. He pulled her pelvis against him and began thrusting into her firmly again. Harder and faster. Sofie’s breasts bounced with his rhythm.
“Are you going to come in me?” Sofie panted. “I want to feel it inside me.” Sofie could tell from his breathing that he was losing control. “Go on,” she encouraged him again. Amir growled, tried to hold it back, but with a roar the orgasm escaped him. Sofie felt the jets of warm cum shooting through her. Amir pulled his cock back. Sofie replaced it with her fingers. “Let me taste my cum!” she cried. Amir offered her his cock.
Eagerly Sofie sucked him clean while Amir slid his hand between her legs. Skillfully he found her clit and began massaging it. Sofie felt everything tighten now. She clung to Amir’s buttocks. With long strokes she came. Afterwards she lay panting on the desk, her fingers still mindlessly sliding along her wet cunt. She felt his cum and her wetness between her fingers. “Shame we only have parent-teacher meetings twice a year,” she said.
