Over the next days I could not rid my head of these thoughts, wrong as they were, because I now knew that what attracted me most to Robert was that he was the forbidden fruit. Unlike the men in bars and clubs who would practically drool at the sight of my lithe, sexy body and luxuriant dark eyes and hair, he was righteous (it even entered my head that he might be a virgin, as it seemed unlikely that his shy manners and unassuming nature would attract a lot of women), and was therefore unlikely to think of me in that way. This thought began to drive me crazy! Some hidden demon within me wanted to throw myself at him, tear off his clothes and fuck him senseless, teaching and him and showing him how intense filthy sex could be. I spent a lot of time idly wondering if he ever masturbated, and if he did, then did he think of me? The idea of him picturing me whilst he touched himself was almost too much, and my cunt would tingle tantalisingly at the thought. I would often find myself pondering over the size of his dick as he was teaching me, speculating whether or not any dirty fantasies resided under that cultured veneer, and if so, what made him hard? I began wearing more revealing outfits to church, offering to page turn for him at each opportunity so that he could get a glimpse of my deep cleavage and a whiff of my seductive perfume every time I bent over him. My skimpy skirts attracted some mutterings from the congregation, but the dirty slut in me just did not care – I was a woman obsessed, and I had to have him…

Although I had initially thought that a man like Robert could never be interested in a girl like me (particularly if he found out how filthy I was), I began