Push 01 - Mrs. Ruben

Mrs. Ruben set Matthew free in twelfth grade.

On the mountain, eighteen-year-old Matthew was a bold mighty lion. Charging the mountain-top he boasted his presence with a bellowed roar that started in his toes and exploded out his mouth. He used every opportunity to visit a local private park. He sneaked into restricted sections to climb granite outcroppings that were once quarried.

He rock climbed, bouldered and talus ran. He raced over changing terrain, jumping and kicking off the face of massive boulders, rocketing upwards, grasping and mantling the top and dropping down the other side without losing speed. Charging the peak he boasted a bellowed roar announcing his presence to the universe! HERE I AM! On the mountain, he was a bold mighty lion.

Socially, Matthew was a meek little mouse. Classroom group activities brought anxiety. He told himself he preferred to be alone, yet he yearned. From afar he watched them gab, and argue, and cry, and comfort, and laugh, and kiss, and hold hands. On occasion someone would try to engage him, but he spent little time in the real world; if he was not climbing or reading, he was daydreaming.

On those occasions he felt unceremoniously ripped from his continuous internal narrative. Frowning in concentration while making the switch--like a computer saving the state of one application before moving to the next--he'd replay the intruder's words in his mind trying to decipher what was meant. Frankly, the interruptions irritated him. While he thought he masked his annoyance well, the intruders thought otherwise.

He was a very handsome, fit, young man, it took courage for a young woman to approach him, and his interruption-frown embarrassed and humiliated. He was fast becoming a full-blown curmudgeon at the age of eighteen. Soon he had the reputation of being haughty and superior to mere mortals. Jokes and laughter would follow him.

He thought they simply laughed at the world's biggest loser. So he stuck his chin out and ignored them, which only confirmed their suspicions. So he avoided people; he retreated. He dragged his aching loneliness everywhere he went. On the mountain he was a bold, mighty, lion; in the presence of his peers, he was a meek little mouse.

The thought of his physical education teacher, Mrs. Ruben, comforted Matthew in his loneliness. Mrs. Ruben was in her early thirties and not physically beautiful. She had acne scars all over her cheeks. Her nose was a bit big, and not entirely straight. She put almost no effort into enhancing her looks meaning she didn't wear make-up and she always wore a track suit, yet, Mrs. Ruben starred in Matthew's dreams.

Mrs. Ruben earned her starring roles with kindness and generosity. She encouraged Matthew with praise and suggestions; she did that with all her students. He knew that, but her efforts resonated with Matthew. Hers was about lifting, not masking scorn with clever sarcasm. In other classes, even the teachers piled on. Matthew was intimidating with good looks, height and solid muscle mass. Once they recognized his weakness--his reluctance to engage--they exploited it. In her class, he was finally safe from ubiquitous disdain. She earned her special place in his heart.

Mrs. Ruben played the love interest in Matthew's day dreams: She stood alone; surrounded by circling thugs--not incidentally composed of Matthew's worst tormentors--they mercilessly berated, and goosed her. Emboldened by her isolation and increasing fear, the circle closed. Mrs. Ruben begged and pleaded, but this only encouraged the lecherous beasts. Trapped and whimpering, shaking with fear, she was about to surrender to their fiendish desires when one hero strode through the ring of sneering thugs to stand by her side.

The hero was hopelessly outnumbered yet he stood tall, chin up, and unconcerned. The gutless worms flinched at his squinting, steely-eyed gaze. Indomitable because he fought for love, his love, Mrs. Ruben. With righteous rage, he vanquished the thugs to the amazement of Mrs. Ruben; who was very grateful. The unsung hero was, of course, Matthew. His chest swelled with pride... but that was make-believe.

The daydreams were a comfort, but Matthew needed to act. He ached for Mrs. Ruben to see him, really see him. He knew on Tuesdays Mrs. Ruben, as the last one out, would make a final check of the showers and locker rooms. His plan was to wait in the shower, without the water running. So she would come in and find him naked... by accident.

This ingenious plan would inject an advantage from one of his worlds into the other. She would glimpse the lion in the mouse. He was muscular from rock climbing. Climbing turned his hands into calloused claws, built muscle and as for his pride, his package was generous. Matthew felt certain if she saw him naked, she would see a man, a well put together man. Whereas speaking to her would render him a ridiculous, stammering mess. This way, she would see what Matthew could offer. She would glimpse the bold mighty lion trapped inside the meek little mouse.

Matthew waited in the shower surrounded by baby blue tiles and shower nozzles. He meant to impress her with a little extra size, so he teased his organ a bit. Not enough for it to stand, just a bit of blood-flow. He heard her approach the showers. He froze under a shower head, shaking with anticipation when the realization hit--THIS IS A STUPID PLAN!

With nowhere to run--the only exit blocked by Mrs. Ruben--he stifled a despairing moan and froze under a shower head. Mrs. Ruben reached into the shower for the switches and clicked the lights off without looking in. He stood in the dark, heart in his throat, unable to speak. He exhaled in relief, unfortunately, pumping adrenaline made the utterance a little too loud.

"Is someone there?" She asked. Wearing a light blue tracksuit with white stripes, she came back, turning on the lights. Mrs. Ruben's mouth opened with a soft pop. She gaped at his large erection bobbing with the beat of his heart. She knew she should look away, but it was so difficult.

Heat flushed her sex. She appreciated the tanned, unblemished skin of youth with his underlying musculature clearly defined. She acknowledged his overall shape: his narrow waist, wide shoulders and deep chest. It's not fair! She knew she had to resist him, but why did he have to be so magnificently built?

Matthew couldn't stop shaking, the tension was too great. In agony, he stared at her while she gaped at his erection. Then her crimson blush... he stifled the urge to howl in victory! He knew. Knew! She no longer saw him as one of her sexless students.

As Mrs. Ruben's perusal reached his electric blue eyes, she felt an inexplicable thrill, like being doused in cold water--a wide-eyed wakeup, a sudden intake of breath, skin tightening leaving a pleasant tingling in her most sensitive parts.

But his nervous, uncertain expression reminded her he was barely a man. The spell broken, she looked away, and cleared her throat. She assumed her teacher voice, told him to get dressed, and meet her in her office.

At eighteen Matthew's penis was like a prairie dog popping out of its hole at any provocation. Matthew stared at his aching, unplanned erection, and wondered how it got so hard. He reasoned it must have been the excitement.

Donning pants proved difficult for Matthew as his organ refused to settle and the activity only stimulated. In frustration, knowing Mrs. Ruben waited for him, he loosely enclosed his pants without buttoning the waist band leaving his glans sticking out. He loosely covered the affair by tenting his tee shirt. Attempting to walk in this ridiculous manner only further stimulated.

Mrs. Ruben sat at her office desk frowning, trying to collect herself. Her tiny lime green interior office had no windows, a few chairs, a desk and a white board. Buzzing fluorescents illuminated the room. She intended to grade papers; though she'd read the same answer five times, comprehension still eluded her; her mind was elsewhere.

She sighed trying to understand her excessive arousal. Yes, the man-boy was very handsome, but she taught very attractive young men in shorts and tee shirts sweating and exerting themselves daily. She stifled an aching urge to touch herself. Maybe I should put some cold water on my face and neck. She rose to go to the bathroom, but a knock on the door stilled her. She groaned in frustration, took a deep breath, and said, "Come in."

In an odd gait, Matthew walked into her office with hands clasped in front. She stared quizzically. "Sit down," she motioned to one of two chairs in front of her desk.

Matthew stared at the chair in terror; sitting now would be extremely painful. "I'd prefer not to."

Is he getting cheeky? "Sit down," she said with more authority noticing his face turning red--Probably not cheeky.

He stammered, "I'm still..." He waved his hands towards his crotch, "...excited."

She frowned in confusion, so he pulled up his tee-shirt revealing his tumescent fat glans poking out the top of his waist band. Her eyebrows got lost in her bangs. "You can't walk around like that," she cried.

She raced to the door, closed and locked it. Getting her voice under control, she said, "You can go take a cold shower, or, if your beliefs permit, masturbate. It's okay, but you can't stand in the showers or come to my office in that state. Now go back to the locker room and return when you have gotten yourself under control." She thought of her own aroused state and wondered if something was in the air.

Matthew was miserable. His plan quickly turned to disaster. In typical "social situation" Matthew fashion, he could admit defeat, pretend not to care, and retreat... but Mrs. Ruben was on the line. It mattered.

Matthew then recalled the first time he was gripped. He was free-solo rock climbing (no rope) in the middle of a new pitch. The next move was to a steep angled pocket, a friction hold. In other words, he had to trust the friction of his rock shoes to hold him up. He looked down to jagged rocks far below and the icy hand of terror gripped his heart and squeezed the courage from his breast. He couldn't move; he convinced himself his shoe would slip, and send him to the jagged rocks.

He knew clinging to the rock wall sapped his strength, so that every single moment he couldn't tame his panic, increased his chances of falling to his death. It was a truly insidious situation as every second it lasted, increased the chance of falling, which increased the pressure, which increased the panic. He took a deep calming breath. He shoved thought and emotion aside bellowing LEAP! He leaped. He'd been gripped many times since, and each time he tamed his panic, it became easier. When he made his move he bellowed, LEAP!

He didn't want to leave Mrs. Ruben this way. Things may go horribly wrong, but he knew Mrs. Ruben as a loving, generous soul. He was positive she would handle his clumsy, asinine advances with care. If things did go horribly wrong, she was the one he wanted to be with. As things stood, he could never face her again. His love lost. He would try for Mrs. Ruben. The only thing for it was leaping. In his mind he bellowed: LEAP!

Matthew pleaded, "Help me Mrs. Ruben," his voice shook with plaintive longing.

"What? No!" Mrs. Ruben shook her head then peeked at him. She repeated, "No," then groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, "What kind of help?"

Shine your light on me, Matthew willed, please help me Mrs. Ruben; I don't know what to do. He considered a myriad of replies, though he knew exactly what he wanted, but was afraid to ask. While she waited for a reply, anxiety mounted. In his mind he bellowed LEAP!

Matthew tentatively asked, "Could I hold you?"

Matthew's request moved Mrs. Ruben; just holding couldn't hurt. Her conscience chided, yeah, a beautiful young man with a huge erection wants to hold you. What could go wrong? She admitted encouraging him was unacceptable, so she wouldn't encourage... entirely. Rising from her chair, she went to the dry erase board and wiped it down. She knew boys stared intently when she wrote on the board. She began.

Matthew waited, not comprehending. Was he dismissed? Fitness was important to Mrs. Ruben; she had a very shapely bottom and when she wrote on the board, it wiggled hypnotically. He watched for a while wondering if she forgot his presence. He read the passage, "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal," The Gettysburg Address. Hmm, he thought confused.

Mrs. Ruben felt silly. She didn't directly address the issue. His plaintive request for help obligated her; she never took requests for help lightly, but couldn't find a way to help while maintaining decorum. She was out of her depth. She was never put in this situation, and, given her appearance, never expected to be; she didn't know what to do. She couldn't encourage him, but how could he know she was trying to help? What could she do? She sighed in frustration.

"Mrs. Ruben?" Matthew asked.

"Mmm," Mrs. Ruben mumbled. She kept writing on the whiteboard, but knew he was there, behind her.

Suddenly, a wild possibility ignited Matthew's shaking desire. LEAP! Tentatively, he clasped her slender waist from behind. She stiffened, but continued to write. Success!

Relief washed over Mrs. Ruben; Matthew resolved the conundrum. Now he led, but she would call a halt if things went too far.

Matthew felt her living warmth with his nervous cold hands; holding her firm flesh relaxed him and his shaking subsided. Her bunching and relaxing muscles worked under his hands confirming he held the magic that was Mrs. Ruben. She was five-two and Matthew was a foot taller. He stood over her and breathed in her scent. She smelled of sweet flowers mixed with sweat, pleasant, clean sweat; sweat perspired through exercise. He let out a low moan of appreciation.

His hands wandered exploring with his finger tips, marveling at the feel of her flesh beneath her track suit jacket warmed by her beating heart. He dared not touch any of her secret places. It was fine; he was perfectly content, grateful. His arms encircled her and he hugged her tightly. He rolled his hips into her bottom. She felt so good in his arms; loving tenderness flooded Matthew. He shared this feeling with Mrs. Ruben.

Contentment warmed Mrs. Ruben. Her writing slowed so she could better appreciate his tentative explorations. Feeling him on her bottom, she smiled knowing how he delighted in touching her. Warm and safe, she felt a slow pleasant coiling tension.

Matthew walked a tightrope between his lust and his love for Mrs. Ruben. He was an eighteen-year-old virgin, juiced with hormones, and a towering need for her, but she was also very important to him; if he hurt or offended Mrs. Ruben, he'd be ruined. Between the two he cautiously advanced.

Mrs. Ruben knew she had to stop this soon; sex with others wasn't part of her life. She took care of herself. Mr. Ruben slept in another room; he snored too loud; that's what they told themselves, but they never sought physical comfort from each other. At this point, they were merely roommates. She should stop this, but Matthew's needy attentions felt so good, it couldn't hurt to be held just a little longer.

Matthew pressed his lips against her neck. He tasted her with just the tip of his tongue. She was so warm and close, making him feel glorious. He longed for her. LEAP! He cupped her tiny breasts and paused, waiting for an explosion of curses that never came. He continued by swirling his finger tips and felt her nipples hardening through her clothing. She responded to him sexually! He felt face warming pride. Matthew shared the fire she ignited in him.

Mrs. Ruben stopped writing and trayed the marker. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed in frustration, caught between physical needs and, possibly, her marriage and the career she loved. Matthew tried to turn her about, but facing him was unbearable. She was well aware she was flat and unattractive and that her best feature was her bottom, but this aspect wasn't her main concern.

She wanted to maintain a level of anonymity. Having her back to him made the situation less personal, less revealing, less damning--all desirous. With the least effort to maintain decorum completed, the pleasant coiling tension became more insistent and began to ache. She arched her back, pressing her bottom into his hard, fleshy column. She sighed and leaned her head against the whiteboard.

Invigorated, Matthew slid his hand down her belly to her pubis; she spread her legs and moaned. He massaged between her legs and could feel moist heat through her clothing. He was aflame; his desire hurt in the confines of his pants. He shared his yearning need.

Mrs. Ruben breathed heavily. Her thoughts and arguments faded; she was on approach. The coiling tension became demanding and ached with the need for release.

Without saying a word, she disengaged, walked to her desk and bent over placing her forearms on the desktop. It was obvious what she meant for him to do, but something seemed wrong. It was his first time, but he knew the mechanics; he'd seen enough porn. She seemed so docile and she didn't want to touch or even look at him. Reality stood at odds with his imaginings; the situation disturbed him momentarily, but he burned, so he put it from his mind.

He pushed up her tracksuit jacket to get to the waistband of her tracksuit bottoms. He knelt and slid her pants and white, no-frills, panties down, he marveled at her dimples of Venus and the rounded curve of her buttocks. He traced the outlines of her back dimples and caressed the firm lobes of her exquisitely shaped bottom when he noticed the delicate black curls between her legs were moist with arousal. The realization sent a shockwave through his body. He couldn't wait any longer for fear of bursting. Matthew stood and yanked down his pants and underwear. He pushed his throbbing glans against her swollen glistening pink lips. He shared his throbbing tension.

Mrs. Ruben wanted to howl. Instead, she clenched her jaw and only a whimper came out. Trembling with need she arched her back welcoming him.

Matthew reverently slid into her until he could go no further. All the sensations faded except the part of him that was inside her. He was inside Mrs. Ruben - the glorious caressing heat of her. He couldn't believe he could feel so good. It was so much better than his imaginings. He shivered with delight; he was a virgin no more.

Matthew leaned over; wrapped his arms around Mrs. Ruben and bear hugged her from behind. He kissed her hair, she turned her head and he kissed her ear; he kissed her scarred cheek. He was overcome with powerful yearning for her. He willed with all his might that she should feel the elation she ignited in him. He willed her. She had to know how he felt. He shared his ecstasy with her.

Matthew filled her; urgent tension coiled tighter and tighter overpowering her will and demanded release; she abandoned her reservations and recklessly sought stimulation. She pushed back on him and wantonly rolled her hips, opening herself claiming more of him. She utterly yielded to the towering promise of release.

When she went over the edge in a white-out of sensory rapture; she bucked and convulsed in rhythmic contractions and uttered sounds of growling, needy, ecstasy she'd never made before.

Matthew was already higher than he'd ever been, she took him higher still. She could not be denied. She woke something deep inside him and his body knew what to do; he rammed Mrs. Ruben with all his desperate desire. He joyously fought and struggled to give her everything he had to give. He crushed her to him and thrust ever deeper until he released into the sublime heat of her core. Matthew spilled into Mrs. Ruben.