by Mona Cox
I know this is ridiculous.
Christine is probably the most qualified candidate for the Consultancy program. Hands down. There's no way you can deny that - she's got the brains, the talent, the natural understanding of how to get people to work together and the determination to see something through.
It's not her fault that she has the hottest ass I've ever seen on a woman.
I mean that thing is the modern definition of the word juicy. It's perky and ripe just the way you want it. The scotch is working it's way through my body and my cock is thinking of those ass cheeks. I have an urge to just go over and squeeze both ass cheeks as I push my cock in between them.
Let's not even talk about what I want to do right now to those slender legs and flat, taut tummy. To those delicious fucking tits and that cute as a button face.
"You look like you want to ravish me," Christine says, and I realize that she's actually a lot closer than I had expected. In fact, she's now standing right in front of me.
"What makes you say that?" I ask her, a bit ruffled but trying to comport myself with dignity.
Christine takes a step closer and moves her face towards mine. I look around, wondering if we've attracted the notice of anyone. But no one seems to care.
"Because you were staring at me like a ravenous wolf is why," Christine whispers and I wonder if anyone heard that comment. But she gets up on her tiptoes and brings her mouth closer to my ear. "And your monster cock. It's very, very hard. And pointing straight out at me."
I look down as discreetly as I can.
She's right.
I'm sporting an erection the size and shape that would attract the attention of any one of the old and fussy types at this party.
"You got a Consultancy Program in your pockets or are you just happy to see me?" Christine says, her eyes twinkling. I can tell she's enjoying teasing the fuck out of me.
"Just be careful, young lady," I say with quiet gravitas. "Just because we're in public right now doesn't mean that in private I won't punish you for your sass."
Christine's eyes go wide and she takes a sip of her wine.
I watch as she lifts the glass to her lips and parts her mouth. I can just imagine that's my cock going into her mouth.
What? It's not that hard. My cock has the girth of a wine bottle - the fat bottom end. I watch as her tongue swirls in the glass, just the way it would swirl around the head of my cock. It would travel along my shaft.
As the liquid travels down Christine's throat, my eyes watch every twitch of her beautiful body.
Jesus fucking Christ.
It's no wonder I have a raging hard on for this woman - I couldn't care less right now if she was my student or my stepdaughter. I just want to get her into a room and fuck the living daylights out of her.
"You're thinking of punishing me and then fucking me, aren't you?" Christine asks me, her eyes twinkling with mischievous lust. "You're thinking you want to bend me over your knee, hike up my skirt and run your hands over my ass cheeks, aren't you?"
God, her body is so fucking luscious. So supple. So ripe.
"I'm going to show you want I want in a little bit," I tell her.
"I want you to rip off my thong and spank me, Professor," Christine says and my blood begins to boil with desire.
One look at Christine tells me that she's not teasing me anymore. Whatever lust she was able to hide by pretending it was just a tease is now gone. In it's place is now simple, unadorned, desire. Lascivious want.
I stare back at her. I think it's safe to say that this party has run it's course.
"Let's get out of here," I tell Christine, taking a step towards her.
"But we just got here maybe ten minutes ago," she says to me. "I still need to talk to some of the other professors. And you need to talk to the Dean. Plus isn't he going to announce..."
I don't let her finish. I grab her hand and lean in close to her.
"I want to rip off your clothes and fuck you so hard that you moan," I hiss in her ear. "But I want you to moan and scream so loud that only the fucking birds will hear you."
There's a moment where Christine freezes. She doesn't stiffen or anything. But she looks at me.
"You're right, this party is lame," she says. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Finally.
She's seeing some reason.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Dean of the Political Science Department says to the room. The general hubbub and talking dies down.
"Thank you all for coming to tonight's reception, and it really is meant to be just a simple reception - I know we all have other plans after this."
That's right. I have other plans. I'm going to take the most gorgeous girl in my class and I'm going to stick my cock as far into her as I can get it.
And then I'm going to pull out and put it back in repeatedly, stimulating all her nerve clusters and making her body twitch with pleasure.
I'm going to make her cum and then I'm going to pull my long, fat cock out and cum all over her. I'm going to spray my semen all over her body and claim her as my property.
"But it's only fitting that as the Political Science head here at NYU, we recognize those of our fellow scholars who have been nominated by their peers for the prestigious United Nations Consultancy Program," the Dean says. He doesn't know it, but he's trying to kill my night.
"Any tenured professor is able to nominate as many or as few students as he or she chooses and the only criteria for this award is that the candidate demonstrates the sufficient moral fiber and character required for the next generation of leaders to change the world for a better place."
Maybe if I'm lucky I can get Christine out the door.
"There are ten names that have been submitted," the Dean says and I grab Christine and start to walk.
I need to get her the hell out.
But the Dean's already reading names. He's gotten three down. People are applauding each one.
"Christine Jalili," the Dean says and the two of us both stop.
I let go of her arm and Christine turns towards the Dean who sees her and smiles. She smiles and does a cute little curtsy.
Why would she curtsy?
"Congratulations," people whisper around her and pat her on the back or shake her hand.
That's when I see it.
Despite the fake smile, she's trying to hold back a frown.
Most people don't see it.
But I see that single tear run down her cheek. That look of profound sadness. At being given an opportunity she didn't earn.
The sadness of unearned success.
If only I could do something to make her feel better.
If only I could tell her.
166
Christine
Two.
That's how many months Anders and I have been secretly having sex. I mean, that's a really crude way of putting what we've been doing, I know, but until we can be more public about it, it really is secretly having sex. Despite everything else that we may be feeling for each other, it's not like I can randomly kiss him in the hallway like I could if I were anyone else that wasn't his student.
I mean, I can tell that how we got closer and closer. I can tell that when he looks into my eyes he's not just seeing some piece of ass that's going to be moving on at the end of the semester freeing him up to go chase someone else.
The way he looks at me - it's in a way that I really haven't been looked at before, you know? It's kind of scary at first.
But then this happened.
"I don't know if we should go on vacation together after the semester ends," I told him one morning after waking up. We had had some real marathon freaky sex the night before and my clit was sore to say the least. But you know even after sex the next morning when you wake up feeling just as horny? Like all that cumming you did just a few hours ago did absolutely nothing in calming your horniness. Your hormones are just making you go wild.
Yeah, it was that kinda morning. I remember
pushing my ass back against that thick, fat cock of his. Anders groaning and putting his arms on my hips, pulling me even closer.
Then he said those words that made me realize this wasn't just a fling between student and teacher.
"Just imagine after this term is ended and we can do this all the time," he said. "We should go on vacation together after the semester. Are you free?".
But what didI hear?
This is what my brain interpreted it as:
"I want to keep banging you, and pretend we're having a normal relationship, but not here where I know people. Lets go do that somewhere where no one knows us, yeah?"
Maybe I was being crazy.
"No, Anders," I said, turning over.
Great, I remember thinking. Now instead of his cock poking and prodding my ass, it was inches from my cooch.
"I'm not going on vacation with you till we know what we're doing together," I told him, looking him in the eyes.
That's when his eyes went all distant.
"I thought you knew, darling," he said in that Mid-Atlantic voice of American aristocracy. "I love you."
Okay, so we were naked. I may have had morning breath. He was still scruffy. But he looked so cute.
"I love you, Christine," he said to me - his dark eyes looking into mine. "You don't have to say anything now, I just wanted..."
But I never let him finish. I was kissing him and running my hands over his body, desperately trying to pull him closer into me. If it was at all possible that we'd be pulled together into the same person - become one being - I would have done it. I wanted to be inseparable with Anders.
When I finally came up for air, I looked at him and smiled. "I hope you realize I love you too," I told him.
Six.
That's how many times I've sat down in front of the Selections Committee for the United Nations Consultancy Program.
Guess who's been on the committee every single time?
Yep.
Anders Trask.
I mean, talk about conflict of interest, right? This tops them all. For a program that's designed to judge the applicants on the moral fiber that they carry, I'm somehow not sure that sleeping with my professor who also happens to be on the nominating committee is the best idea.
The worst part about it? Anders doesn't seem to care.
Four.
That's how many times I've tried to bring up the fact that I'm not completely comfortable with the arrangement.
The first time, he just picked me up and threw me on the bed and began to kiss my neck. I mean, you try talking and expressing your concerns when you have a giant cock rubbing up against you and a wonderful man feeling your boob and kissing your neck. So I gave up that time.
The second time he went down on me. He even used his fingers. It was a long, slow process where he stimulated my G-spot over and over. He told me to relax and I closed my eyes, letting everything go. All of a sudden, it felt like I had to pee. Anders told me to trust him, and my body began to shake and before I knew it, I was squirting.
That's right. I was freakin' squirting! I was cumming too. This was insane.
So, yeah, I kinda forgot about the whole conflict of interest issue.
The next time was just yesterday. Anders tried to have sex with me, but by now I had sorta wised up.
Something was up where it seemed that every time I tried to bring this up I was instead experiencing powerful orgasms.
I mean, I'm not complaining. And if I keep getting orgasms, maybe manufacturing some conflicts of interest isn't a bad idea. Keep the spice alive in our relationship? God, that sounds so lame. We're much more cooler as a secret couple than that.
"Let's talk about it tomorrow over brunch then," Anders said when I wouldn't back down.
Fine. If he wanted 24 hours, I could wait.
The final time I brought it up is just now.
We're sitting at Balthazar. It's a Sunday morning.
And I'm going to figure out just how over the ethical line we are with what's going on. On one hand, I don't want to recuse myself from being considered for only the most important award and opportunity in my career. But I don't want to get that great opportunity on the back of a lie.
So wish me luck, babe. If Anders has been ducking this convo for a while I have a feeling it's going to be a bit of a doozy.
167
Anders
So Christine probably basically said that everytime she tries to bring up the whole conflict of interest bit I try to have sex with her, didn't she?
Don't try to turn the page or move on. I know she did.
It's okay. No reason for it to be awkward. I know she tells you things about me when I'm not there, because it's her POV.
So sure, I've been trying to shut Christine up with my cock. No, I didn't mean it to sound like what it just sounded like. I'm not stuffing it in her mouth or anything.
Well, actually I am. Fuck.
But nevermind. That's not what I mean. I mean, yes, I am absolutely having sex with her to get her mind off this conflict of interest thing that she's got her head around.
Christine is talented and smart. She's intelligent and funny.
She brings people together and the work that she has done has been excellent.
I've got absolutely no complaint about her as an academic. And that's independent of her other skills.
I promise you, I'm not letting those tits or that ass bias my judgment. I'm not taking her cock sucking skills into account. I'm not thinking about how tight her pussy is around my dick when I tell you this.
You're shaking your head at me with a smile, I know.
But you're going to be proven wrong if you think I'm letting my cock bias my judgment.
Besides, aren't I supposed to be looking out for my girlfriend?
Let's drop the ethical implications here for a second about whether it's right or wrong to sleep with a student and be on a panel deciding her entry into a prestigious program.
Instead, let's look at the ethics of nature.
Universities haven't been around more than maybe 800 years. The UN hasn't been around even a 100 years.
But for thousands of years we've had men protecting and looking out for their women. Making sure they had enough food, water, and shelter to take care of their families.
Yeah, I'm thinking like a fucking cave man, but I am here to protect Christine. No other guy is going to do it for her. If he did, he'd probably want to fuck her too and then we'd have a problem, because he'd probably be dead.
So you can't blame me for wanting to protect her. And right now, I promise you, protecting her is trying to get her not to think about this situation that we're in.
Which is going to be harder said than done.
She starts the pressure from the morning.
Right as I wake up, I'm under assault from Christine Jalili.
Her hand is already working my cock under the blankets before my eyes fucking open.
I look over and she smiles at me.
"Hey big boy," she purrs. "Thought I'd wake up with a morning snack."
Before I can say anything, she dives her head under the covers. A second later I feel her warm mouth engulf the tip of my cock.
I sigh.
She continues her ministrations.
I groan.
I'm about to cum she's that good.
But that's when she stops.
I'm a little puzzled when her head pops out the blankets. She looks at me.
"Tell me why you don't want to talk about how fucking unethical and improper it is that you nominated me for the Consultancy Program and are judging me?" she says, her eyes narrowing at me.
Fucking hell.
My balls are ready to burst and she's looking at me, making it very clear that she's not doing anything until I answer her question.
"I thought a lot about it and I realize there's something you're keeping from me," Christine says, her eyes never leaving mine. "I want to know before I get in any mo
re trouble."
"You're not going to get in any trouble," I gasp out.
"Tell me or no sex," she says to me.
Fucking Christ.
People may think of me and my family as soft because we descended from the Mayflower Pilgrims. But I guarantee you growing up with money has done nothing to make me soft. If anything, I've learned to put up with struggle.
"Then it's no sex," I tell her, my balls aching and my cock twitching as I get out of bed. It's hard and not getting any softer.
I see Christine's eyes glued to my cock as I stand up from the bed.
"I'll shower and be ready for brunch if you still want to go," I tell her.
She nods, still entranced by my cock.
But she doesn't let up.
"What is it then that keeps me like this secret part of your life then if you're not worried about the ethical aspect of what we're doing?" Christine asks me as the waiter puts our bellinis down. We're sitting at Balthazar at an outside table. "Because it seems like you're not worried about sleeping with me when you're on the selection committee for the program, but yet you still keep me a secret from your professor friends."
I sigh. How am I going to explain this?
"It's not that I'm not worried about this," I tell her as she rolls her eyes at me. "It's just that while the University doesn't forbid a relationship between us, it's probably best to come out with it till after you leave my class."
"But what about the program?" she asks me.
I shrug.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about the program," I tell her. "I'm pretty sure you're going to be a shoo-in."
I'm serious. I meant for it to comfort her.
But I'm a guy and I don't understand what girls are thinking about sometimes.
Because her eyes tear up.
"You've done something, haven't you?" she asks me, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "You've stacked the deck for me, haven't you?"
"What?" I ask shocked. "Why would I do that?"
"You mean you told them not to select me?" she asks.
I stare at her. Unfortunately I can't say anything more without giving it away. So I remain silent.