MENTOR ME, PROFESSOR

by Sylvia Fox

  I yelped and whimpered, rolling my hips in time with his withdrawals and subsequent entries. He filled and stretched me, and my ankles crossed behind his ass to keep him where I needed him; inside my soaking wet pussy.

  He pulled down at the top of my shirt, ripping it to release my breasts. They poured out through the gash, and his hands were rough on them, groping and pulling.

  “You’re so fucking tight, Josephine. Relax so I can get all the way inside,” he commanded, his voice more growl than human speech.

  All. The. Way. Inside?

  I’d never felt so full, experienced such deep, powerful thrusts, and he wasn’t even all the way inside?

  I tilted my pelvis forward and tightened the grip my legs had on his waist, and he reached a new place deep in my core, heretofore untouched.

  I sank my teeth into his shoulder to keep from screaming out, letting the first orgasm take me.

  “That’s it. Good girl,” he whispered directly into my ear as I thrashed on his cock. “Right into another one, Josephine. Come again for me. Let it happen. My good girl.”

  He was pounding me savagely, but speaking in such a controlled, calm manner. My body had no choice but to obey. As soon as the first climax waned, a second, stronger one replaced it, and my thighs trembled from the shock.

  “A d-double. A fucking double!” I gasped as my body responded to him in a whirlwind of bliss. I clutched at him, needing every inch of my body to touch his, wherever and however I could.

  He fucked me slowly and passionately after that, reaching behind me to hold my ass, his aim true each time he bottomed out inside me, hitting a place that sent a wonderful series of pleasure bursts up and down my spine.

  He pulled back a bit, never leaving me, and reached for my ankles. He crossed them in front of his chest, pushing my knees back to my shoulders, and he got a rhythm going in this new position. This new, fucking indescribably amazing position.

  The orgasms were rapid-fire and high-caliber, ripping through me from deep inside. I was overwhelmed. He finally released my legs, kissing my feet softly before letting them slide slowly down his sides.

  My eyes were glazed with lust.

  “I’ve never felt anything like that. I never knew it could be like this,” I said, softly.

  “It can be so, so much better, Josephine. I have so much to teach you. This body of yours is capable of wonders you can’t even imagine. But I have a request…” His voice was deep now.

  A request? Anything.

  “When I fuck you,” he said as he pushed himself inside me again. “I want you to call me Uncle John. Remember when you used to call me that? I want you to tell me how much you need to get fucked by me. How much you need this cock of mine to take your pussy whenever it wants to. Because I’m old enough to be your father, aren’t I?”

  I was shocked. It was so wrong. Yet I was already coming from the filth flying from his mouth.

  Just like that, my innocence was long gone. I now understood the allure and desire for primal sex. I would have given him whatever he wanted.

  He leaned down and whispered, “It’s just a fantasy, baby. One I have been having about you for the last two months. Since I saw you walking back to the dorm. That night I wanted to take you back to your room so badly, Josephine. And make you mine. I wanted to own your body and have it in every way a man can have a pussy.”

  I was crying with ecstasy. He was thrusting inside me again as he spoke.

  “Say it,” he growled. “Say you want to fuck me.”

  “Yes,” I whispered, my pussy clenching onto his massive shaft. “Uncle John, please. Fuck me.”

  My fingertips ran up and down his sides, admiring the rippling muscle they found there. I’d found his magic spot, as his pace quickened and his eyes rolled back, pumping me full of his own gasping climax.

  “Uncle John!” I yelled. “Come inside my pussy. Please. I need it. I’m your good girl. Your little fuck doll.”

  When he finished, and caught his breath, he apologized for finishing the way he did. “I’m so sorry, Josephine. I didn’t mean to… it wasn’t right to let it happen inside you like that.”

  “I hope it felt so good,” I replied, my legs still holding him tight to catch any final pulses he might have had for me.

  “Like heaven,” he said. “I never wanted to stop.” We kissed and lay there a while.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did I make you uncomfortable? My fantasy, I mean.”

  “No,” I said, turning over to face him. “I’ve been imagining this for a long time.”

  I confessed to him about my dream. Which only made him hard again.

  “Can Uncle John come in you again?” he asked. “You’re my princess, Josephine. I need to come inside you and fuck you hard. So you know who you belong to.”

  “Mmmmm,” I said as he yanked my hips up toward his angry cock. “Will it hurt?” I asked in a faux little girl voice.

  “If I fuck you right, hell yeah it’ll hurt,” he said as he began to pound me. I screamed in both pain and pleasure as he took my pussy much harder than before.

  We’d been making love before this. Now he was fucking his good girl. Just as he’d wanted to for so long. Even though it was so wrong.

  Actually, because it was so wrong.

  Chapter Five

  His luxurious bed was way more comfortable than the bed in the dorm, and by the time I woke up, it was after 11:00 AM. I stumbled out into the living room, rubbing my eyes, and found a handwritten note he’d left me.

  Josephine – I hope you slept well. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I should be back between 2 & 3. Call me if you need anything. – John

  I thought about dialing him up to order another dozen orgasms, but thought that might be a bit crass. I felt a twinge of unease about the previous night. After all, John was my dad’s best friend. This whole thing couldn’t possibly lead anywhere but disaster, could it?

  But then I thought about how he’d known just what to do to my body… just how to make it respond. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  It had been the best night of my life.

  I ate leftover chicken and dumplings and watched parts of several movies, but nothing could keep my interest. Nothing but memories of John fucking me.

  I went back to his bed and lay naked, touching myself softly all over, thinking about the fact that he was still, in a very real sense, inside me.

  A series of unfulfilling masturbatory orgasms later, I realized I had a problem; everything I’d done to myself before and had clumsily been done to me by guys before, paled in comparison to the ecstasy John had delivered to me. I couldn’t duplicate it. I needed more. More of him.

  Was this what that first hit of heroin was like? John was my human heroin.

  I glanced at the clock and realized he’d be home soon, so I scrambled to get dressed and gather my things.

  At quarter after two, he opened the front door to find me on the sofa checking my Facebook. He smiled warmly.

  “It’s so nice to come home to find a beautiful woman on my couch for a change,” he said.

  I looked left and right, feigning confusion. “Oh? Should I go, and leave the two of you alone?”

  “You’re her, Josephine,” he laughed. “And we’ll be alone all weekend at the cabin. It’s very secluded. I’m looking forward to it. Are you packed?”

  I got up to walk to my room for my suitcase and backpack. He stopped me with a hand around my waist, pulling me in for one of his devastating kisses. I melted against him, hoping he’d have me again right there. To my chagrin, he let go and walked across the condo to his back porch. “I’m going to grab the turkey and my stuff and we can get on the road. I want to beat the traffic out of town.”

  He carried everything outside, where his BMW had been replaced by a rugged-looking blue truck. It looked like the grandfather of the modern SUV.

  John grinned when he saw me looking at it. “This time of year, I dust off the old Bronco. It’s go
t the 4-wheel drive and power to get up the mountain even if we get snow. I know it’s probably not what a fancy Moultrie girl is used to, but I promise it’s more comfortable than it looks.”

  He lifted my suitcase and hefted it into the back of the truck. He slid a large Yeti cooler, containing our turkey, and two smaller coolers in alongside it, then piled in a box, and two bags of his own.

  “Lots of food, and plenty of wine,” he said, patting the box next to my suitcase. “We’ll have fun. Ready to go?”

  The thought of drinking with John, especially in a hot tub under a starry sky, far from civilization, excited and aroused me.

  I nodded, and he walked over and opened the door for me, taking my hand to help me up into the truck. Once inside, I found that it was, indeed, more comfortable and modernized than the Spartan exterior would have led me to believe.

  “Purists would be aghast at all this,” he said, waving at the stereo and modern dashboard. “It’s a ’71 Bronco, the engine is pristine, and I have yet to meet a road it couldn’t handle, paved or otherwise. But I prefer some conveniences. This came equipped with just an AM radio as standard when it came out. That just doesn’t work for me, so I spruced it up. But it can still perform as intended.” He revved the engine, making the entire truck shake as proof of its power.

  “It’s very cool. Guys back home would kill for a truck like this,” I said.

  He shifted into drive and we rolled out of the parking lot. “Sorry, I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind for Thanksgiving, but we’ll have an adventure. Tell me about your classes. Who do you have?”

  I was surprised he wanted to talk to me about something normal. But also… relieved. I had always loved my talks with John.

  We spent the drive comparing notes on my professors. His opinions of them fell mostly in line with mine; Dr. Bechtel was a colossal bore even to her colleagues, and Professor Deimling was apparently as entertaining in his personal life as he was in class. The drive seemed to take no time at all, friendly debate regarding political theory filling in the gaps and lulls, and before I knew it we were in a cute little town in the shadow of the Smokies, three hours from campus.

  He pulled up in front of a small Asian restaurant. “I don’t feel like cooking tonight. This place is fabulous. Do you like Thai food?”

  “I have to confess, I’ve never tried Thai food,” I explained.

  “Do you trust me, Josephine? If you don’t love it, I’ll get you whatever else you want. I just always make it a point to eat here when I come up to the cabin. Believe it or not, and I know, this is rural western North Carolina, but besides a place in Vegas, this is the best Thai food I’ve had in the United States,” he smiled.

  “I trust you implicitly. My virginity is yours to take.”

  He gave me a look, and I realized that I’d allowed my inner Alexa to escape.

  “My Thai virginity. Oh my God. I’m sorry, that sounded awful,” I backtracked and tried to distance myself from my faux pas.

  “The obvious Freud joke is low-hanging fruit. It’s all forgotten. Let’s feast,” John joked, opening my door. He was about to lead me inside but not before he whispered, “After last night I would think there’s nothing virginal about you anymore, my good girl.”

  My legs quivered. I needed him so badly. Fuck eating Thai. I wanted him to eat me.

  But he was as cool as ever. As we walked in, I noticed women staring at him; he was just that sort of handsome that even women dining with their husbands couldn’t help but take a second look. It made me feel proud in some weird way that it was me he was with, although I figured they would all assume I was his daughter, not his love interest.

  We were seated at a booth in the back, and the next two hours were a dizzying mix of exotic flavors and aromas, paired with fascinating conversation and John impressing me with his command of the Thai as he ordered and joked with our waiter.

  “How did you learn Thai?” I asked, as it became apparent he could do more than read a menu. The speed at which he spoke and understood the completely alien tongue blew my mind.

  “It’s just something I picked up,” he claimed. “I studied it in my spare time and I practice when I get the chance.”

  Everything about John left me star struck. I took four years of Spanish in high school, honors Spanish my senior year, and I couldn’t hope to match his Thai fluency with my own Espanol, despite having gotten straight A’s in it.

  By the time the meal ended, darkness enshrouded the mountains and stars filled the sky. I was slightly tipsy from the Singha beer we’d consumed with dinner. I’d tried some of everything, following John’s lead, and found it all delicious. Had this been a date date, I’d have spent it pushing my food around and pretending not to be hungry. John, however, put me at ease. I had nothing to prove, no reason to put on airs or pretend to be anyone but myself. I ate and drank my fill and made a mental note to find a Thai place near campus.

  John expertly navigated a series of steep, windy roads up onto the mountain, before driving to the of a narrow gravel driveway. He pushed a button and a heavy wooden gate slid open, granting us access.

  He drove down a slope and made a sharp turn behind his cabin, perched on the side of a cliff, overlooking the valley below. I could see my breath when I emerged from the truck, looking up in wonderment as the tall pines and spectacular starlit panorama above me.

  “Wow,” I said, immediately thinking it was the dumbest thing I’d ever said. “This is amazing.”

  John was busy pulling my suitcase from the back of the truck. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, right? I love it up here. Whenever I retire, this is it. I’ll only come down off the mountain for Pad Thai.”

  I reached for my suitcase, but he waved me away. “You’re my guest. I wouldn’t dream of you carrying anything. Go inside and relax. I just want to get the coolers inside and move that stuff into the fridge. Sit out on the porch or watch something on TV, whatever you like. Just give me a few minutes. Please make yourself at home, Josephine.”

  He opened the door and turned on some lights, and I sank into his leather sectional, soaking in my cozy, unmistakably masculine surroundings. Natural wood was everywhere, a modern kitchen off the living room, a fully-stocked bar opposite floor to ceiling windows on the far wall that overlooked the valley below.

  A hallway led to the bedroom, and spiral staircase downstairs. I checked my phone as he hauled in his coolers and moved the contents into the refrigerator. When he finished, he led me down the corridor, where I was surprised to find a small guest room next to the master.

  He took my suitcase in and set it atop a low dresser next to a huge bed in the master. “This will be yours. I’ll be in the guest room.” I tried to protest, but he’d hear none of it. “I know you miss your parents, I want this to be a vacation for you. Everything first class. Queen for a weekend. No arguments. If you have any requests, just let me know.”

  I was still trying to protest taking his bedroom when he left to go to the truck for his own things. I had assumed we’d be in the same room together after last night, and I was slightly crushed he didn’t have the same assumption.

  I walked into the master bathroom and was blown away by a shower set back behind a clear glass door complete with multiple shower heads and a bench. John was apparently doing very well for himself. I sat down on his bed and the memory foam immediately contoured to my ass. Weekends at John’s cabin might have to become a regular event, I thought to myself.

  My suitcase flopped open, and I started going through it, removing my books and phone charger. A knock on the door startled me, and when I turned to look, my breath caught in my throat.

  John stood there with a rolled up towel draped across his broad shoulders, is chest bare, pecs sprinkled with salt and pepper hair trailing down his stomach. He was in what looked like an old pair of green swim trunks, maybe a size too small, tight around what hung heavy between his legs. “Sorry, this old thing was the only swimsuit I could find up here. I thoug
ht I had another one, but it’s almost always just me up here, so I don’t usually wear anything in the hot tub. Anyway, if you want to join me, that’s where I’m heading. I’m taking a bottle of Cabernet down with me. Should I take one glass or two?”

  He was all man. It took my brain a minute to realize he’d been speaking actual words, and not just modeling his chest, abs, and obviously impressive cock for me.

  “Oh, yeah, yes, that sounds great. Two glasses. Sorry, I think the beer or the altitude or something is getting to me.”

  The longer he stood there, the wetter I became.

  “When you’re changed, just go down the steps, there are towels by the door, just come on out,” he smiled at me, knowingly.

  I nodded and watched him turn and leave. His calves flexed as he walked. I wanted to bite them.

  My body thought it would be a wonderful time for an orgasm, and I toyed with a quick one as I heard the backdoor downstairs shut behind John, but I resisted the urge. I pulled my bikini from the suitcase and walked into the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes to find my nipples hard and the dew between my legs more than just my imagination.

  I reached behind my shoulders and struggled to clasp my top shut, cursing for not having tried my suit on before I’d packed. If my bras were barely fitting these days, what did I expect my bikini top to do? I knew the bottoms wouldn’t stand a chance, and I briefly debated claiming I’d forgotten to pack my suit, despite John making a point to remind me to bring it since with the chill in the air the hot tub would be a heavenly way to enjoy evenings at the cabin. We’d made love, but he hadn’t exactly seen me naked, head to toe, and that was still a bridge I wasn’t quite ready to cross. I wanted to preserve some scintilla of modesty.

  Once I managed to get the top situated, I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing every teenage boy’s wet dream looking back. A cheap whore disguised as Jo Faulkner, breasts obscenely stuffed behind tiny triangles of fabric. The scene was made worse by my angrily swollen nipples, ready to puncture through at any moment.