Professor with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  A stroke of her finger hits in tandem with when I say the word “drool.” She moans loudly, almost a plea. “But I just want you to fuck me, please.”

  I tip her chin up so she looks up at me. “That’s not how this works. Good girls get fucked. And do you know what makes you a good girl?”

  “Good grades?”

  I laugh at how honest her response is. “No. Listening to me makes you a good girl. Drool on my cock.”

  She gets the idea and, still fingering herself, positions her open jaw inches above my cock so when her saliva drips out, it lands right on my dick. She’s got good aim. Or maybe I’m just a big target.

  “Now that is a good girl.”

  Inches from her face, I stroke my length that’s wet with her spit.

  “Holy fuck,” she whispers. “That’s hot.”

  “Do you like watching me stroke myself with your juices?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl, Little Rose.”

  She tenses and her eyes roll back a bit in her head. She whimpers. “Please fuck me. Please.”

  She’s so fucking good. Goddamn. I look down at her soft curves, her big tits, her thick brown hair. It’s like she is fucking made for me.

  “Spread your legs.”

  Leaning back into the chair, she pushes her creamy thighs apart in the air. I kneel down and my cock is at the perfect height for her pussy.

  “Tell me what you want, Rose. Tell me exactly.”

  “I want you to fuck me with your big cock.”

  I throb. It’s not just the words. It’s her throaty, feminine voice. And the fact that it’s her. Little Rose.

  “You sure you want this inside you?”

  She nods and uses her other hand to guide the tip toward her opening. She is soaking wet. And tight. And she’s in for a surprise.

  She tries to push me in but she’s too tense. I rub my tip back and forth from her clit down to her small opening, spreading her juices all over me. She arches her hips, trying to take me in.

  “Please, Cole, just fuck me already,” she begs, need palpable in her eyes.

  I smile, and slowly back off from her. “Keep touching yourself,” I say.

  She does as I command, and I sit back down in the chair, watching my personal show. “This isn’t fair...I want you inside me.”

  “Quiet down, Rose.” My voice is firm. “I want a show. I want you to come for me in your chair like a good girl. I want to stroke my cock covered with your juices to the sound of your orgasm. Can you be a good girl for me now?”

  “That’s what you want?” she cooes. “Oh God, I’m coming.”

  I use one hand to grab my balls and the other to stroke my shaft while I stare at Rose in all her glorious pleasure. She’s writhing, whimpering, and her whole body is fucking glowing. Her eyes roll up in her head again before she starts to shake.

  “That’s a good girl. Come for me, Rose. Come while thinking about my cock deep inside you.”

  She cries out, and I know she’s in the throes of her own orgasmic pleasure.

  I stroke myself harder. I fantasized about watching Rose pleasure herself, and with the real thing right in front of me I can’t contain myself. She’s just feet away from me, and I can smell her juices on my hand and my cock from when my tip was touching her opening. My spine tingles and my balls ache, signaling what’s about to come. A damn geyser erupts from my cock, shooting cum straight into the air before it lands on my stomach.

  Rose is drenched in sweat from her own orgasm, and her body is limp in the chair.

  “Rose, come here.”

  I examine every beautiful curve of her as she walks over to me. She’s so hot I want to eat her whole. But now is not the time for that.

  “What do you want?”

  “Lick it off me, Little Rose.”

  Kneeling before me, she sticks out her tongue and licks my juices up off of my rock hard abs. When she can’t lick, she sucks like a hoover vacuum. I can’t wait to show her a second use for the slurping sound she’s making.

  When she is done, she swallows and shows me her open mouth.

  “Such a goody two shoes,” I prod. She smiles and rests her head in my lap. I stroke her hair.

  “Come on,” I say. “Let’s cuddle in the bed.”

  “Really?” Her eyes light up.

  “Of course. Did you think I was just going to have you lick up my cum, and then kick you out?”

  She laughs. “I’ll be honest. I have no idea, but I think you are capable of anything.”

  “Come on.” I stand up, take her hand, and lead her to the bed. She scoots her naked, curvy ass into my hips, and I grip her body with my free arm. There’s a bit of a draft, so I drape the covers over us.

  Fuck if she’s not the best cuddling partner a guy’s ever had. My mind wanders off, and I wonder what I did in my past life to deserve such a fucking gift from the gods.

  “Hey, Cole,” she whispers.

  She can’t call me Cole. And between all the “Sir,” and “Professor,” lingo, it seems a bit odd. Still, I like hearing my name come out of her mouth. Hell, I’m twenty-eight and she’s twenty-two. It’s not like I’m robbing the cradle here. But I’ve just crossed the line with a student and it’s sinking in. I don’t feel bad about it.

  “Yes, Rose?”

  “This is fun,” is all she says.

  I wait, wondering if she’s got more to say. But soon her breathing stabilizes and I realize she’s drifted off.

  I inhale. She smells like cherries and books and sin and everything perfect. With her soft body pressed into mine, I fall asleep against her warm flesh.

  An hour or two later, we wake up.

  “Oh, shit!” Rose says. “I have a study group tonight. I have to go.”

  “Okay.” She’s out of the bed, throwing on her clothes. I jot a few phrases out on my notepad, tear the page out and hand it to her. “Here. Open this Monday morning before class. Don’t look at it a moment before then.”

  She squeezes the note in her hand. “Is this homework, Professor Hanks?”

  “You could call it that.” I wrap her up in my arms, pin her against the wall and kiss her ferociously. Because I can, and because that’s how she needs to learn to be kissed. The warmth of her body feels amazing against me. Finally, I release her. “Now get the fuck out of here and I’ll see you Monday.”

  She walks out and shuts the door behind her.

  The rain has stopped, and the Blackwell summer sun is starting to come out again. I smile as I watch Rose walk to the car in her beautiful 4 inch heels.

  Chapter Seven - Rose

  Monday morning, I walk into the bathroom and find Liz doing her makeup already. She’s rarely in here so early.

  “What are you getting dressed for? Is there an early Monday morning party or something?” I ask, trying to hide my surprise.

  I’ve got Professor Hanks’s note in my hand, ready to read his instructions for how to come to class, but I don’t want to read it in front of her. I crumple the paper in my hand, my palms sweaty.

  Liz darts her eyes to mine and smiles. “I need to look special for Professor McHottie’s class. It’s in an hour.” She says the words as if I should already know why. “You think he’ll notice me today?”

  She turns her body toward me. Liz is petite and she’s got on shorts that ride so high on her crotch I can basically see what’s underneath. Up top she’s got on a white tank top.

  I shrug and take a drink of my water. “Not sure. It seems like he’s…” I hesitate. “He’s not interested in students.” Shoot. I don’t intend on telling anyone about Professor Hanks’ and my little agreement. This whole thing is for me. One of those secrets you take to the grave. On the other hand I don’t want to start the business of outright lying about it either.

  I decide I’ll just try and stay as silent on the matter as possible.

  She sighs. “You sure? I heard he’s a leg man. It’s my best feature.”

  I laugh. “Where did
you hear that?”

  “Oh, Debbie and Sheri said they went into his office to see if he would have a threesome.”

  “They just asked him? Did he do it?”

  She shakes her head. “No. He told them to get the fuck out of his office. But on the way out Debbie says she caught him staring at her legs.”

  My breath catches, and the blood rushes to my cheeks. My muscles tighten with jealousy. “So he’s a leg man. Interesting. I guess I don’t stand a chance,” I say. Fuck. Why am I secretly gloating about hooking up with him?

  “Oh stop it. You have a great ass and tits. I would kill for those.” She winks. I laugh hard, hoping the awkward tension hanging in the air will dissipate. Just in case, I walk into the bedroom to open up Professor Hanks’ note.

  Rose,

  -Glasses

  -Pigtails

  -Plaid Skirt

  -no panties

  -My office 15 minutes into class - you’ll know when to come

  My mouth dries and my pulse quickens. I glance up at Liz in the bathroom, she’s putting eyeshadow on. Last week on Monday I wore a hoodie. Now I’m going to dress like this. Won’t people notice the change?

  I take a deep breath. I’m paranoid as hell; but if I’m going to do this with him I need to be all in, and I certainly can’t give up now.

  I check in my closet. As I suspect, the only plaid skirt I have is from my senior year at my all-girls Catholic high school. I think about what my mom said to me about she and Professor Hanks’ conversation.

  We were talking about adult things, honey.

  I wonder, would an adult go along with what Professor Hanks is asking? I have to admit, listening to Professor Hanks’ dominant voice order me around was hotter than anything I’d ever experienced. The orgasm was so intense, it coursed through my entire body, seemingly penetrating every inch of me.

  If that’s not an adult thing, I don’t know what is. I want to tell my mom, I’m twenty-two and I can make my own choices.

  And I choose to dress up just how Sir desires.

  To complement the plaid skirt I have on, I put on a white button down, and take down the first few buttons. Shit. Too much cleavage. I patch the top one up, even though I know Professor Hanks would prefer it down. I’m not sure if he’s a boob man, but I definitely caught him staring at the girls a couple of times on Sunday.

  Liz notices me taking more time to stare in the mirror than I usually use. “Wow. You look really schoolgirl-y today.”

  “What do you mean? You’re showing more skin than me,” I say, a little too defensively.

  “Um, have you seen Britney Spears’ first music video? You look just like her.”

  I glance back at myself. Damn. If it weren’t for my boobs, I look like I could possibly still be on my way to a Catholic all-girls school this morning, not a senior level college class.

  “Britney had blonde hair in that video,” I shrug and grab my backpack. She rolls her eyes playfully, grabs her backpack too, and follows me out the door.

  When we arrive in class today, it’s almost nine on the dot, and all of the seats in class are taken except for the first row.

  I head to the front of the room, and a chill runs over my whole body when I see Professor Hanks standing behind the podium of the lecture hall. Today, instead of a button down, he’s got a suit coat on, looking like he could be the manager of a five star restaurant. He flexes the jaw of his tan, stubbled face as I sit, and I’m already aroused. Does Liz notice?

  “Hi everyone. Hope we all had a fantastic weekend, aren’t too hungover, everything like that.”

  The people in the class chuckle.

  “Today, we’re talking about the science of attraction and what’s behind those forces. And, what attraction leads to--sex.” Another giggle from the crowd. “You laugh, but sex, like romantic love, is a constant reminder of our irrationality, and its sway over our hard-won rationality as humans beings. Of our inescapable physical embodiment. It is humbling to our spiritual hubris to realize we are subject to forces out of our control when deciding on a mate. Yet, instrumental and completely unique to the human condition is our ability to recognize this irrationality and still be subject to it. It’s quite ironic, really.” He chuckles ever so slightly.

  I swallow. Yesterday I saw this man naked for the first time, and he was the sexiest physically of any man I’ve ever seen. Yet right now, he’s got my heart beating with just his voice and his words. He turns me on with his giant vocabulary.

  I take out my journal. Since Professor Hanks and I have started, I haven’t written in it. It’s not that I don’t have thoughts--but I’m afraid to write in front of someone else. All my thoughts involve him, and someone might read what I’m writing.

  Still, I decide to jot down a veiled thought:

  What will he make me do? :)

  When I zone back into class, he clears his throat and seems to run his eyes over all twenty students in the classroom. Though I swear, for an extra second, he lingers on me.

  “We are about twelve minutes into class.” His words are slow. Deliberate. He’s choosing them for me. “I’m going to give you all until nine-thirty to read pages five through ten about attraction, then form small groups and brainstorm what you think are the most sexually desirable traits in the opposite sex and why.” He glances at his watch. “That gives you almost twenty minutes. I’m going to be in my office, taking care of something important. I’ll see you back here for a class discussion.”

  He walks out of the classroom.

  The class falls into silence as we log onto our laptops and tablets to read the allotted reading. I wait a few minutes, looking at the pages, but not able to read anything I’m so nervous. I glance at my watch and it’s already quarter after. Fuck. that’s my queue.

  I stand up, and I can feel the way my thighs freely rub together when I walk out of the class. My heart beats like mad, and I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone is suspicious of me.

  But why would they be? Maybe Debbie and Sheri, with their cheerleader-like good looks, would be suspected of strutting into his office, but not me. Though I know most are surprised to see me in a skirt and not my usual hoodie today.

  I slip out the door and walk briskly to Professor Hanks’ office. His secretary isn’t there today in the department room, and I see myself through to his open door.

  When I come in he smiles slightly, then closes the blinds on the outside facing window and closes the door.

  “It’s nine-seventeen” he says, approaching me with a slow walk. My palms sweat while he runs his gorgeous blue eyes over me, and draws a hand across my face. “You’re late. It seems as though you don’t understand the importance of punctuality. Now we have even less time for what I wanted to teach you.”

  “Sorry.” My face flushes, and I point my eyes down at the rug in his office.

  He rakes a hand through his hair. “Well, you’ve complied with three of the five orders I gave.”

  “Just three? ”

  “You’ve got glasses. A plaid skirt. Pigtails. You were late, so you’ve missed one. Now to see about the final point. Come, put your hands on the desk, and face the blinds.”

  I obey, moving swiftly toward his big, oak desk. I let my hands hang loose.

  “Palms flat on the desk, Little Rose,” he growls. His voice is deep and commanding. I wonder if that is, what do they call it...his Dom voice?

  I do as I’m told. I feel his palms run through my hair, down my neck and down my spine, with only the thin layer of my white blouse separating me from his touch. When his fingers reach the small of my back, he stops.

  “Time to find out if you’ve been my bad girl,” he whispers. “Or a good girl.”

  I swallow, suddenly panic fills me. Was I supposed to be a ‘good girl’ and wear a thong and disobey him? Or did obeying him and going without panties make me a good girl?

  I’m fucking confused. I’m not confused about how turned on I am, though. Professor Hanks runs his hand around
on my back in a circular motion.

  “Well, which one is it, bad girl or good girl?”

  He wants me to tell him if I think going without panties is good or bad. “I’m a very bad girl for you, Sir,” I purr. He rolls up my skirt, finds nothing but my bare ass, and smiles.

  “Very good. Now you’ll only need three spanks.”

  “Oh God,” I moan uncontrollably. I’m already soaking, and that voice of his is only melting me further. I can feel the space between my legs aching. “Why three?” I manage to say.

  “Two for the minutes you were late. And one because I fucking feel like it.”

  I gasp as he rubs his hand in a figure eight circling both of my cheeks.

  “Such a beautiful creature you are.” He pushes the top half of my body against the desktop, bending me over forcefully. I whimper. He bends over at the waist and leans down to meet my face, strokes my hair and whispers throatily. “My God, you’re perfect. Do you realize how sexy you are, Little Rose?”

  “Yes,” I whimper.

  Before this moment, I hadn’t thought of myself as sexy. But with Professor Hanks looking at me like he is, I feel sexier than I ever have in my life.

  “Good. Because you are. Where are you from?”

  “Blackwell,” I whisper, smiling at our code word.

  He grins. “Belt, or hand, Little Rose?”

  “Hand.”

  Without hesitation, before I can brace myself, he delivers the first smack that probably leaves a five finger handprint on my ass.

  “Do you like how that feels, Rose?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He works his hand up my thigh, not stopping until he reaches my opening.

  “You're soaking, Little Rose.”

  “Yes.” He inserts a finger into me and I purr.

  Without warning, there is another smack with his other hand.

  I wiggle when he makes contact, but it only makes his finger inside me vibrate.

  “You love this, don't you?”

  “Yes,” I manage to moan.

  “You know what I love?”

  “What?” I turn my head, rest it on the desk, and watch him. He's got the sleeves of his button down rolled up. I gasp when he pulls his finger out of me, leaving my pussy gripping for him and coming up with nothing.