by Parker Grey
“I’ve never done this before,” I whisper into his ear.
If I felt under his control before, I feel completely dominated now, even though I’m on top.
“You said that already,” he murmurs into my ear. “But you’re doing it now, and I think you like it, you filthy thing.”
He pushes that finger knuckle-deep and I sigh, squirming on him, working him up and down just a little faster. The finger in my ass is like an amplifier, making every sensation ten times more intense. His cock feels like it’s the size of a baseball bat now, so wonderful and satisfying that I can hardly remember to breathe.
“Yes, Professor,” I moan, my head still on his shoulder. “Make me come, please.”
He kisses the side of my neck and pulls his finger out of my ass as I ride his cock, but before I can protest, he’s circling my tight bud again, then pushing inside the ring of muscle, only with two fingers now.
“Put them in my ass,” I beg. “Please, Professor, it feels so good to fuck you with your fingers in my ass.”
He slides them in, slowly again, and now I’m riding him hard, my tits bouncing up and down with each hard, deep stroke. His fingers are touching places I never knew existed, lighting up pleasure centers I’d never even dreamed I had.
“I’m gonna come,” I gasp, not even trying to be quiet any more. “Professor, make me come—”
With his other hand, he pulls me down again and again, pounding into me, and in seconds I feel like I’m unfolding, coming undone, my body flying to pieces.
Spasms wrack through my entire body, and the Professor growls as my pussy clenches around him so hard it almost hurts, his rock-hard erection like a battering ram inside me.
I’m still shaking when I feel his cock jerk and spasm and I clench myself as he pumps me full, holding me down by the hips, so deep inside me it feels impossible.
“Fuck, Melody,” he says when he finally finishes. He pulls his fingers from my ass and takes a tissue from the desk, wiping them off and throwing it away.
I’m still breathing hard, my shirt under my armpits, my pants across his office. He’s slowly going soft inside me but I don’t want to move, because I feel oddly possessive of this moment, where our bodies are joined in the most intimate way they can be.
Then I hear footsteps coming down the hall.
It motivates me.
I practically leap off of Professor Sharpe, pulling my shirt and bra back down as he sits up straight and buttons his pants again. In seconds, I’ve hopped into my jeans, shoved my snow boots back onto my feet, and run my hands through my hair.
The footsteps recede.
Nothing to worry about. I swallow hard, still breathing. His office still has the sticky smell of sex in it, and I can feel him slowly leaking from my pussy, my ass twitching and clenching.
“Thank you, Professor,” I say, shrugging my backpack on and adjusting it slowly. “I needed that.”
He chuckles.
“I could tell,” he says, turning to face his desk and sitting up straight, looking every inch the stern, commanding teacher that he is. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Melody. Good luck with your research.”
I nod, then duck out of his office. I don’t see anyone else in the building, thank God.
Chapter 18
Professor Sharpe
I’m making chicken marsala, my specialty, and I’m not even sure why. We’re just fucking, after all.
No: we’re just fucking, and it’s ill-advised as hell, and as soon as I get tired of her I’ll end it. Hell, I should have ended it already.
I should have never started this.
But then I think of this afternoon, of the way she put her head on my shoulder when she nearly got overwhelmed. The way her sweet pussy gripped my cock, practically pulling me into her. Her tight ass around my fingers, the way a tremor ran through her body every time I pushed them a little further.
I’m not sure how soon I’ll get tired of Melody. I’ve tired of everyone, so far — the undergraduate I slept with once when I was a grad student, the girls I dated in grad school. The other professors I’ve tried to have relationships with.
I’m a little worried that I won’t get tired of Melody, and I wish I would. I can’t be with a college sophomore.
There’s a soft, almost hesitant knock on my door. I dry my hands on a kitchen towel and my dick gets hard, just hearing it.
Better not be carolers, or this’ll be awkward.
It’s her. Standing there, on my doorstep, bundled up because it’s snowing outside, but she’s wearing a skirt and tights and the moment I see her, I know she’s not wearing panties.
“Hi,” she says, and holds up a loaf of bread. “I’d have brought a bottle of wine, but...”
I fill it in myself: she can’t even legally buy alcohol.
Jesus, what am I doing?
“The bread is perfect,” I say, looking down at her and then out at the snowy, dark street. I should have told her to come to the back door, but I can’t bear the idea of Melody, going in the other entrance like she’s a prostitute or something.
This is my mistake. I can let her have dignity.
She steps inside. I take the bread, put it on a side table, then take her coat, her scarf, and her hat and before I know it, she’s pressed against me, pulling my head down to her, my still-clothed cock between the globes of her ass as she grinds against me, moaning.
Holy fuck.
“You’re an insatiable monster,” I growl, but I kiss her deeply and grab her perky, full breasts in both hands.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“I don’t mind, as long as you’re my monster,” I growl into her ear, and she writhes against me.
Then she’s topless, looking up at me, her perfect pouty lips full and tempting, her hands on the buckle of my pants. We’re still in the entry way of my house, and I move us into my living room where I’ve started a fire.
For a split second, she looks around, even though she’s seen it before, and even though her hand is on my belt buckle, she pauses for a moment.
“This is nice,” she says.
I pinch one nipple, and she looks back at me, a devilish smile on her face.
Then my pants are down and I’m standing next to the fireplace as she kneels in front of me, the warm brick to my back as she inhales my cock in one gulp, sliding it into her throat with no preamble whatsoever.
I grab her hair in one hand, but she’s doing the work on her own and I just watch as she takes my enormous length in and out, again and again. It feels incredible, beyond incredible, watching this perfect, innocent girl devour my cock so eagerly.
Before long, the tightness is building in my lower belly and my balls clench. I tighten my hand in her hair and she looks up at me, understanding.
“Melody,” I growl as she pulls back, slurping the length of my cock until it’s out of her mouth, just her lips around the head. “Your mouth is mine.”
She doesn’t answer, just swallows me again, the best answer of all. I hold her there with my hand on her hair, her nose pressed up against my abdomen.
“I want you to swallow every last drop,” I say roughly, moving her back and forth slightly. I’m incredibly close, teetering on the edge, but I love talking to her like this. “Swallow every drop and lick me clean, Melody.”
She pushes down again on her own and I finally fucking lose it. I hold her there, as far into her mouth as I can go, pumping load after load down her throat as she swallows and swallows, obeying me perfectly.
At last, spent, I let her pull her head back and she does, slowly, sucking and licking at my softening cock until it’s practically sparkling.
Then she sits back and wipes her mouth off with one hand as I tuck myself back into my pants, her eyes wide.
I nearly lose control, I need so badly to taste her. I pick her up and toss her on the couch, shoving her skirt up to her hips, sucking her clit into my mouth while I push three, then four fingers into her sweet, dri
pping cunt. It’s probably still my semen in there, since I came inside her a few hours ago, but knowing that somehow turns me on more.
Melody moans, clutching the couch behind her, and I work my tongue over her clit again and again, my fingers in her pussy. It’s almost too easy, and before long her muscles are fluttering and clenching and she’s about to come.
I hear her gasp.
“Profess—”
I suck her clit hard and the word turns into a shout.
“Oh, God!” Melody cries out. “I’m coming, Professor!”
I know, I think.
Her body jerks, but I don’t stop. I pull my fingers out and stroke her lips a few times, back and forth, my tongue still circling.
Then I move my fingers to her back hole. She’s so wet that her honey is dripping down onto her tight ass, and I massage it gently as I lap at her clit, willing her to relax.
She whimpers again and I press my fingers against her softly, waiting for her to take me in. Even though right now, more than anything, I want to flip her over and invade her tight hole with my cock, stretch her wide and make her beg me to let her come, I don’t want to hurt her.
Melody moans and then my fingers slip inside, to the first knuckle, then the second, her tight ring gripping me hard. I lap harder at her clit, sucking it into my mouth and teasing at it as I push my fingers further into her ass.
Before I know it, she’s coming again, her empty pussy clenching so hard I can feel it with my mouth, and before she’s done coming I add a third finger to her back hole, stretching her even more. I’m hard again, cock aching, and I think fuck her there, just fuck her, she wants it, but I’m going to wait.
“Professor,” she whimpers. “It feels so good when your fingers are in my ass.”
I push them as deep as I can, licking her hard, and she comes again, her whole body jolting and jerking like she’s being electrocuted. She’s moaning God, yes, please, over and over again, and when she’s finally done and I come up for air she’s in total disarray, lying on my couch topless, skirt around her waist.
And it’s fucking beautiful.
Chapter 19
Melody
Dinner is amazing. Professor Sharpe’s an incredible chef, and as we’re sitting in his dining room, drinking wine and eating by candlelight, I realize something.
This is a date. I am on a date. With my professor.
I don’t know why that surprises me more than fucking him does, but there it is.
As we finish eating, laughing about something one of the other faculty said in a meeting, he looks over at me, his face lit up.
“I have to tell you something,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows and lift my wine glass to my lips. I’ve been careful not to drink more than a single glass, but I’m still a little tipsy since I don’t drink much.
“What?” I ask.
“I didn’t even think of dessert,” he says. “Not until right this minute, anyway.”
I laugh.
“Then I’m leaving right now,” I tease him gently. “And you can call me when you’ve got cheesecake.”
He grins.
“I think I’ve got chocolate gelato in the freezer,” he says. “Think that’ll do?”
He clears the plates and I follow him into the kitchen, where he grabs two bowls and the quart container from the freezer. We eat the fancy ice cream standing at his kitchen counter, not even bothering to sit back down.
“You’re leaving campus tomorrow,” he says slowly, dragging his spoon around the bowl.
I nod. My last final was today, so now I’m going home for winter break.
“Yeah, my dad is picking me up at one,” I say. “I should be packing right now, probably.”
He laughs softly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever packed for a trip more than four hours in advance,” he admits. “Even when the trip was a four-month archaeological dig.”
“How’d that go?” I ask, smiling.
He eats a spoonful of ice cream, savoring it for a moment before answering me.
“The dig was excellent,” he says. “But only having two pairs of socks got old pretty fast.”
I laugh, glancing over at him. He’s laughing too, and as strange as this feels it’s also good. All this time that I wanted him like I did, that was all — I didn’t realize that he was also sweet, funny, and a really good chef.
“I have a list on my computer,” I admit. “And every time I go somewhere I print it out, check everything off, and if there’s something I want on the trip that’s not on the list, I add it when I get home.”
“Very organized,” he says. “I bet you’ve never forgotten socks.”
“Not yet,” I say.
Minutes later, I’m licking melted chocolate gelato from his fingers while he pushes me against the counter, his sweet, funny eyes burning again with lust. I feel like a storm inside, winds whirling around a center as he pushes his hand up my thigh to my soaking wet slit.
Then he fucks me against the counter, so hard and fast that I’m pretty sure my hips will be bruised the next day, and I come shouting his name.
Well, I guess it’s his title.
I shout Professor, and I swear every time I do he gets a little harder.
I’m going to miss him like crazy for the next three weeks, but it’s a pretty good sendoff.
Even though I didn’t pack the night before, by eleven-thirty the next morning I’m ready to go. Erica, my roommate, has already left for Christmas break so it’s just me, reading a book in my living room and listening to Christmas music.
I’d watch Love, Actually or something but my laptop is already packed, and besides, I hate getting into a movie only to stop it halfway through. Doing that with a book feels much more natural.
I’m not going to see Professor Sharpe for three weeks. Three entire, endless weeks. My parents live four hours away, so it’s not like I can convince them that I need to go back to school to study or something.
Besides, my eighteen-year-old sister is also out of school, and my parents only have two cars — it’ll be a miracle if I get to go anywhere. But still, I wish I were staying here longer. Now is the perfect time to do whatever I want with Professor Sharpe and not worry about getting caught.
I throb at the thought.
Just as I do, there’s a knock on my apartment door, and I sit up on the couch, checking the clock. I’m not surprised that my parents are early — they’re my parents, after all, and I love being early — but I’m surprised that they’re this early.
“Coming!” I call, marking my place in my book and walking to my front door, the floor in my old apartment creaking beneath my feet. “You’re—”
It’s Professor Sharpe, standing there in a scarf and winter coat, hands in his pockets.
“—You’re Professor Sharpe,” I say, my voice dropping.
He looks behind me, into my apartment. I’m frozen.
“Your roommate is already gone, right?” he asks, his voice low and needy.
I just nod, breathless.
He steps inside, closing the door after himself as he unwinds his scarf and takes off his jacket, tossing them onto a coffee table I got for free.
“I need you one more time,” he says, and pulls me to him. He plunders my mouth like he’s desperate, and I feel myself melt at his touch, going weak in the knees.
But I pull away, already panting for breath.
“My parents will be here at one, and they’re always early,” I say.
He runs his hands up under my sweater.
“It’s not even noon yet, kitten,” he says, and pinches my nipples through my bra, bending his mouth to my ear. “And don’t worry, we won’t get caught.”
I just nod, already speechless with desire. He pushes me backward until we’re in front of my crappy old couch, and as we move I take off my sweater, my shirt, my tank top, and my bra, littering them across the floor.
At the same time, he gets his clothes off, and I re
alize that I’m seeing him totally naked for the first time. Up until now, we’ve either been trying to keep this secret, or I’ve been too out-of-my-mind horny to wait to get my clothes off.
I run my hands across his muscled, powerful chest, and he grabs my hair and pulls my head back, just a little.
“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, his other hand tracing its way down my body. “You like it when I’m rough and hard and take what I want.”
I swallow.
“Yes,” I say, because what he wants is also what I want, every single time.
He puts his lips to my neck, pulling my head backward, and I close my eyes.
“Please don’t leave a mark,” I whisper. “Not now.”
He just chuckles, pushing me backward until I’m against the couch. I fall to the cushions and his mouth travels down until he’s licking and sucking at my nipple, hard, so hard it almost hurts but feels fucking divine instead.
Then he does the same to the other one, kneeling in between my legs, one hand still in my hair. Finally, he stops and I look down.
There are faint bruises around both nipples. I touch them lightly with my fingers.
I shouldn’t find them sexy, but I do. It’s like he’s marked me as his.
“Anyone else sees those, they’ll have to deal with me,” he growls.
Professor Sharpe lets go of my hair and stands. His enormous, thick cock is waving in the air in front of me, hard as a rock, and I reach for it almost instinctively.
He grabs my wrist, stopping me, then pulls me to one side, anchoring both my hands on the arm of the couch. I know what he wants, and instantly I’m on my hands and knees, looking at him over my shoulder, ass high in the air.
This is it, I think, my back-hole puckering in anticipation. He’s going to claim my ass.
The thought makes me squirm, it turns me on so much, and then his hand is between my legs, roughly. He pinches my clit lightly between two fingers, making me gasp, then pushes them inside me and I moan.
“What do you say, kitten?” he asks, twisting his fingers, making me gasp. “Want something to think about on the drive to your parents’ house?”