by Parker Grey
“Please,” I say, my voice nearly breaking. “Take me. I need you now.”
His fingers twist, and over my shoulder I can see him stroking his incredible cock.
“You can ask better than that,” he says.
I take a deep breath.
“I need you to fuck me with that big, thick cock of yours,” I say, my voice half a whisper. “I need you inside me, Professor, and I need to feel you fill me up and stretch me out and I want—”
I stop, my face flushing hot.
I can’t say that.
“What else do you want?” he asks, his voice low and teasing as he rubs against my pleasure spots, driving me wild.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I want you to fuck me in the ass and I want to feel you leaking out of me as I drive home with my parents,” I whisper.
He inhales sharply. He pulls his fingers out. His weight is on the couch behind me, and then he grabs my hair, slides the head of his cock against my wet pussy, and then drives it home.
“Fuck yes,” I whimper. “Please, I need you one more time before I leave, God...”
Within seconds he’s pounding me mercilessly, his balls slapping against me as he sinks himself deep again and again. I know I’m saying something but I think it’s nonsense, just babbling because this feels so good I think I might lose my mind.
I come, hard, because his cock is hitting exactly the right places, all of them at once, and my defenses are just gone. Then I come again, and again, and he’s fucking me so hard that I’m just face down on the couch, screaming and moaning and hoping this never, ever stops.
“I’m gonna come inside your sweet, tight little cunt,” he growls into my ear. “Because you’re mine, Melody.”
Everything goes white for a moment. My eyes roll back into my head and we come together, my pussy spasming around him, milking him dry as he pumps load after load into me, right here on my couch, minutes before my parents come to pick me up.
Without pulling out, he slides one finger along the base of his cock, wet with our combined juices, then rubs it in a circle around my asshole, just barely pushing the fingertip inside.
I spasm again, because I don’t think I can handle anything else right now.
“This is mine, too,” he says. “When you’re back from break.”
Then he kisses the back of my neck, and we stay there, like that — him on top of me, him inside me — for a long moment, and I swear I feel a perfect, glowing happiness descend over me before he stands up.
Chapter 20
Professor Sharpe
I don’t want to leave. Even after we’re unentangled, re-dressed, and I’m ready to go, I don’t want to say goodbye. But I know that Melody is getting increasingly agitated at the thought of her parents catching me, so I kiss her goodbye and go.
I’m walking, head down against the wind, and at the end of her block a station wagon with a man and a woman in the front seat turns down Melody’s street. I nod at them once, a friendly neighborly greeting, even as my stomach clenches.
I try not to watch, but the station wagon pulls up outside Melody’s building and stops.
We came this close to getting caught.
All I hear for four days from Melody are short, sweet texts: Hi, I got home safe, Merry Christmas, that sort of thing. I spend Christmas Day itself at my sister’s house, playing with her three kids and dodging questions about when I’m finally going to settle down.
It’s December 27th when I finally get a video chat from Melody, and I race to close the curtains in my living room.
“Melody,” I say before I can even see her picture.
“Hi, Professor,” she says, and then the video gets clearer.
She’s naked, holding her giant dildo upright, between her perfect breasts.
“Miss me?” she asks, grinning.
And then, without missing a beat, she deep throats the dildo and I groan, cock already in my fist.
Whenever Melody has the house to herself, which isn’t nearly often enough, she calls me and we fuck, long-distance. Sometimes she gets herself off with her vibrator, sometimes she fucks herself with the dildo. Sometimes we just talk, no video, and I listen to her call me Professor as she comes.
Three days before she comes back, she’s on her knees in her parents’ shower, her phone propped up on the sink, her suction-cup dildo on the floor. She’s got her hands on the glass of the shower enclosure, her back arched, the head of the dildo teasing at her lips.
“Professor,” she whimpers. “I wish you were here.”
“Me too,” I growl, my fist tight on my cock already.
She lowers herself onto the dildo, moaning, pinching her own nipple with one hand.
“You look so fucking sexy,” I say, stroking myself slowly. “Do you like that, fucking a sex toy in your parents’ shower while I watch?”
“Not as much as I like fucking you,” she says.
Gradually she starts bouncing up and down on it, gasping and moaning, leaning against the glass shower stall almost like she’s boneless.
“I’m gonna come, Professor,” she moans. “Oh, God, I wish it was you.”
Then she falls apart, hands curled into fists as she writhes on the dildo, and I’m fucking jealous as hell, stroking myself furiously.
I come into a tissue for the thousandth time this Christmas break.
Finally, it’s the day she gets back into town. I know she’s getting back in the early evening, since that was when her parents could take her, and I tell her that she has to call me the second she gets in. That I have to see her, right away, or I might explode.
That Friday is the Friday from hell.
Stupid administrative meetings all morning. The head of my department, Greg, hasn’t given me any more grief or had me attend any more ethics meetings, but I can tell he wants to. I could kick my past self for sleeping with that one girl, all those years ago — I didn’t even enjoy it. She was just there.
Then I have to give my syllabus to the secretary for copying, double-check that all the textbooks for my students are available at the bookstore, and make sure I’ve actually been assigned classrooms for the upcoming spring semester.
All I can think about is Melody, though. The way her breathy moans echoed off the glass of her parents’ shower, the way she said I wish it was you.
I get home at five-thirty, and decide to take a walk because I don’t think I can stand still, and I can’t text her while she’s with her parents. But before I know it, I’m walking past her apartment building, pushing my hands further into my coat pockets, hunching my head into my scarf.
Then I see it. The car she drove away in. It’s parked out in front of her apartment, again, and now I feel like some sort of stalker. Like I’ve been lurking around, just waiting for my prey to come back. I walk to the end of the block slowly, casually. I walk around the block once.
When I come back, two older people are laughing together and getting into the station wagon. They drive away.
I wait for them to turn a corner, and I knock on the door.
Chapter 21
Melody
God, I thought they were never going to leave. I was at home for three whole weeks, probably driving them crazy, and they still had to hang around my apartment for ages, chatting about my classes, when Erica’s getting back, my extracurriculars, all that.
I love my parents. Of course I do. But all day I’ve been soaking through my panties, thinking about how I finally get to see the Professor again tonight, and I can’t wait. It doesn’t matter how much I use my dildo, it’s just not the same.
“Okay, honey,” my mom says, hugging me one last time. “Be safe. Lock the door the second we leave, I don’t want some creep coming in here when we go. I’ll be waiting outside to hear the click.”
I smile dutifully. My mom is a little overprotective sometimes.
“Of course,” I say, as she backs away and my dad hugs me. “I’ll see you guys in a few months.”
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br /> “Get good grades, honey,” my dad says, and then they’re out the door.
I can hear Mom hovering, so I roll my eyes and lock the deadbolt with a click. Finally, I hear their footsteps going down the stairs, and I exhale.
I hit the bathroom, drink a glass of water, and take my stuff to my bedroom just so I can give my parents time to leave and make sure they don’t come back because my mom forgot to tell me something.
Then I sit on the couch and call Professor Sharpe.
The moment it rings for the first time, there’s a knock on my apartment door. I jump, the phone still to my ear.
I wonder what they forgot, I think, stand, and pull open the door.
It’s not my parents.
It’s the Professor.
I turn my phone off, my heart suddenly hammering, my knees practically jelly.
“Hi,” I say, the only word I can think of.
“Can I come in?” he asks, the very pinnacle of politeness.
I swallow and step back into my living room. I don’t know why I’m so surprised to see him standing there — I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.
“Of course,” I breathe, and shut the door behind him.
Instantly, he pushes me against it, his lips crushed against mine. He pushes his tongue into my mouth as I open my lips, letting him in as he plunders me.
It’s all I can do not to moan as he runs his hands roughly up my legs and lifts me until my legs are wrapped around his hips, his long, thick girth a hard rod against me. His lips move away from mine, and he traces a trail of hard kisses along my jaw to my ear, where he takes my lobe between his teeth until I whimper.
Then he chuckles.
“Tell me you missed me,” he growls.
“I missed you,” I whimper.
He moves his mouth down my neck, licking and sucking, and I moan out loud. He bites my collarbone, still pinning me to the wall, undoes my jeans and pushes one hand inside, sliding his fingers along my wet slit.
“You did,” he says, his voice rough as he moves his slick fingers against my clit, rubbing it softly.
I let my head fall back against the door behind me, my eyes half-open as his fingers keep circling and circling. I feel like I’m slowly sliding into delirium, because even though I came twice this morning I’m wound so tight, so pent up, that I think he might make me come in seconds.
The glow inside me builds, the river of fire rushing downward. My eyes shut, my body almost completely limp.
His hand slows, then slows more.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, squirming.
Professor Sharpe smiles and pulls his hand away from me, licking his fingers one by one. Then he leans his forehead against mine, his closeness almost overpowering.
“New rule tonight,” he says, cupping one breast in his hand. “Can you obey?”
I swear my pussy is twitching in disappointment, so I lick my lips once.
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Don’t come until I say,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. He puts his thumb against my mouth, and I open my lips and suck it in, my tongue against his rough fingerprint. “Melody, your mouth belongs to me. Your pretty little tits belong to me. Your sweet cunt belongs to me. Your tight little ass belongs to me.”
Just hearing him say it makes me throb, my pussy practically drooling at the thought of his thick cock inside me.
“And your orgasms belong to me,” he finishes.
My breath catches in my throat, because the thought that I might not be allowed to come is almost physically painful.
“Yes, Professor,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says, then unwraps my legs from around him.
He walks me into my bedroom backward, his powerful hands on my hips, his mouth on mine, nearly slamming the door shut the second we’re alone in my bedroom — neat, bed made, small bookshelf carefully arranged, decorated with a poster of the Eiffel Tower.
“Strip,” he commands, even though he’s already pulling my shirt off. I struggle out of my shoes and jeans, and then seconds later I’m naked, vulnerable, and he’s still fully clothed.
I reach for the buckle on his pants but he grabs my wrist, laughing, and pulls my arm behind my back, yanking me toward him and now my naked body is touching his clothed one, his belt buckle cold against my warm skin.
He looks down at me, his face voracious, a hunger on it unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’m almost trembling with sheer desire for this man to take me, to claim me like he said he would.
I’ve never wanted that before, but I do now. I want to show him I’m his.
“Professor...” I start, though I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
He kisses me roughly anyway, cutting off my words, grabbing my hair with his other hand, and when he’s done with my mouth he turns me around and pushes me gently onto the bed until I’m on my hands and knees, ass up in the air, so wet I can feel my juices streaming down my thighs.
“You’ve got a beautiful pussy,” he says, letting his voice get low and rough. “I could stand here and admire it all day.
I inhale sharply, praying that he does more than admire it, and then I feel his fingers sliding up my thigh.
“But I’ve got better things to do to you, kitten,” he murmurs, and sucks my clit into his mouth.
I shout, my hands tightening on the bedspread, my eyes squeezing shut. I’ve been so deprived of his touch that I want to come right then and right there, but I force myself not to even though his mouth feels incredible.
The Professor moves quickly, from my clit to my pussy, pushing his tongue inside and curling it against that spot, fucking me hard with the dexterous appendage as I moan.
“You’re gonna make me come, Professor,” I whisper. “I can’t help it.”
He just moves his tongue along until he’s swirling it around that hole, and my eyes go wide. It feels good — fucking incredible — but oh, my god, it’s dirty. Too dirty, something I’d never in a million years have asked for.
I can’t believe my Roman History professor has his tongue on my asshole right now, and I can’t believe I like it so much.
He stops. I breathe deep, trying to collect myself, and look over my shoulder just as he lifts his shirt over his head, his muscles rippling even in the low light of my bedroom.
“Don’t you dare move,” he says, his hands unbuckling his belt much, much too slowly. “You’re fucking perfect where you are.”
He undoes his zipper, pushes his pants off, and his massive, thick cock springs out and into his hand.
I swear I whimper at the sight of it, and he grins, stroking it with his hand, pumping his hips just slightly as he does.
“This what you want, kitten?” he asks. “This what you’ve been aching for these past three weeks?”
As he speaks, he gets onto the bed behind me, his knees between mine, and runs one hand up my back.
“Yes,” I say, my voice nearly breaking with sheer need. “Please, Professor.”
“Please what?”
He runs one thumb over my dripping slit, all the way to my asshole, and my entire body quakes.
“I need you to fuck me,” I whisper, still somehow terrified of saying the words aloud. “In every hole. I need to be yours.”
Professor Sharpe growls, and in one quick move, he grabs my hips and drives his cock into my wet, waiting pussy, burying himself deep in a single stroke until his balls slap against me.
My elbows buckle and now my face is buried in the comforter as he rocks inside me, his cock touching every single sensitive spot I have. I’m trying to obey, trying not to come until he tells me, but it’s so fucking hard that I think I might lose my mind.
“You are mine,” he says, pulling out and then slamming into me again.
“Yes,” I breathe.
I can hear him breathing raggedly behind me, and I turn my head to watch as he fucks me. Within seconds he’s driving his cock into me hard, fast, and deep, my pussy stretched to the limit of wh
at it can take, but God it feels good.
“Professor,” I say, pleading in my voice as he fucks me again. “Please let me come. Please.”
He just slams into me harder, grinning.
“Not yet, kitten,” he says. “I thought you wanted me in all your holes.”
He pushes himself deep again and my vision goes blurry as I will myself not to shatter right then and there. I did say that, but now that he’s actually inside me with his monster, I’m a little hesitant.
“Kitten,” he says, leaning over me, shifting his cock inside me as fireworks go off behind my eyelids. “I know you, and I know you’re a dirty, filthy girl who wants this thick cock in her tight little asshole.”
I bite my lip, because even if I’m hesitant about the mechanics, I do.
“But here’s the catch,” he says. “You have to ask for it.”
I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut, because even though he’s fucking me mercilessly right now, it still feels too dirty to say out loud.
“Professor,” I say. “I want you to fuck my ass, please.”
Chapter 22
Professor Sharpe
I nearly come when she says that, right then and there. Jesus, is there anything better than this beautiful, sexy girl on her knees in front of me, face down on the bed, begging me to fuck her ass?
“Please,” she goes on, panting for breath around the words. “I need you there. I want you to be my first.”
And only, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
I pull out and yank open the drawer of her bedside table. There’s a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. I take the lube, open it, and slather my twitching cock with it.
Then I drizzle some on Melody’s upturned ass, letting the cool, slippery liquid run down her crack, over her puckered, perfect bud, between her heated lips.
She sighs, her eyes fluttering closed, and I trace the line of the lube with my finger, pushing it into her back hole.