by Zoey Long
“I want to kiss you everywhere. Is that okay?” I whisper in her ear.
She nods, biting down on her lower lip, eyes closed.
I squeeze her tits and run my fingers down her body, kneeling in front of her. Her pussy is mostly bare, although not completely. Her pubic hair is red, a lighter shade than the hair on her head but definitely red. Her upper thighs are peppered with light little freckles. A smile crosses my lips as I bend down to kiss her pussy. I start by slowly running my tongue over her outer lips, very lightly, teasing her. I exhale warm breath on her wet pussy until she’s practically arching her pelvis into my mouth before running my tongue over her clit. She takes a sharp inhale when I lick her clit and reaches for the back of my head with both hands. I start licking rhythmically and her clit is stiff and warm against my tongue. I let her guide my mouth where she wants it, to the left or right, more or less pressure. Finally I get into a rhythm that makes her grab the back of my head and I hold on for the ride. My eyes are closed and I’m at her service as I slip one and then two fingers inside of her.
“Yes, yes just like that!” she exclaims.
I pump her pussy and lick her clit at the same time. She’s holding the back of my head so hard right now I don’t think I could move if I wanted to and that’s just fine with me. Her pussy is clenching hard around my fingers.
She cries out as she releases into my mouth, her pussy clenching once, twice, three times in rhythmic contractions around my two fingers. Her breath slows a bit and the grip releases from the back of my head. I turn my head to the side, both of us breathing in unison, my fingers still inside of her where I can feel the beating of her heart.
Chapter 9: Carrie
I can hardly feel my legs. I am staring at the tin ceiling of Adam’s Brooklyn studio apartment that’s been painted over in white. I begin to catch my breath, his fingers still inside of me. I don’t look him in the eye just yet, my whole lower half is tingling and I just came harder than I ever have with another person in my life. College guys don’t go down on you for the most part and the ones that do really have no idea what they’re doing, refuse to take my directions, and give up. They just stick it in, go to town, and they’re done with it. No nuance. No attention to how my body works. I feel like Adam was just playing me like a guitar.
“Why are you giggling?” he asks finally, breaking the silence between us and looking up, withdrawing gently from me.
“Dude,” I say, still laughing, covering my face with my hands.
I sit up and scoot back, lying against the wall behind his bed, still wearing the sick black stilettoes he lent me and the vintage stockings. I kick off the shoes and they land on the floor with a thud. I don’t know where the rest of my clothes ended up. His apartment is so warm though that I am quite comfortable, just like this. Aside from the fact that he’s my teacher. He’s still dressed from being on campus this morning and there’s something really hot about that.
He pulls a dark green throw blanket over me, takes his shoes off and lies down next to me in his bed.
“You’re really good at that,” I say.
He kisses my cheek, my neck.
“Thanks,” he smiles, kissing my lips so softly that my lips tickle. “You’re delicious. If I’m being honest, Carrie, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”
I slide down so we’re lying next to each other in bed, side by side, under his hunter green blanket. I lean my weight into him slightly, then kiss him deeply, allowing his hands to rove over me, cup my breasts, pinch my nipples. I arch my back, hold the back of his hair, and I’m about to let my desire take me away completely again when I stop him. Push him away with one arm, extending it fully. I decide I would like some more information on what the hell he was just able to do to my body.
“Okay, but I’ve never... how did you...”
He’s smiling broadly, delighted. The confident look on his face tells me he knows exactly how good he is. My face flushes with excitement again.
“You’ve never what?” he asks, flashing me his white teeth. He’s not going to make this easy. His bone structure is unreal, defined cheekbones, a strong jaw, the works. His blue eyes entrance me for a moment again before I close my eyes, determined to answer him.
“Come like that,” I reply.
“Not even... by yourself?” He’s hesitant to ask me this question at first, but his eyes light up in a way that makes me think he’d love to know all about me touching myself. I laugh a little.
“Well, yeah. When I touch myself I always get off. I just mean, I’ve had boyfriends since the beginning of high school. The few guys I’ve had sex with, they don’t go down on you. They don’t know what they’re doing most of the time.”
He nods again, like he’s heard how bad most men are in bed.
“That’s because,” he says, running his fingers lightly over my arm, “they don’t pay attention.” My skin prickles under his fingertips, lighting up wherever he touches me. “That’s the secret.”
I let my shoulders relax and lie into him, leaning my head against his chest as he runs his hands through my hair. I feel comfortable with him like this, even though he’s still dressed and I’m barely wearing anything.
“Can I ask you something?” I say finally.
“Of course.”
“How long have you been thinking about me? About us doing something like this? Tell me a fantasy.”
I’ve never been so bold with someone before. Well, that’s not true. I’ve tried. If I ask guys my age to tell me their fantasies they usually scoff and tell me I don’t want to know. If pressed, it’s always something about me and another girl. They think that’s the most revolutionary idea on the planet. Honestly, especially at a school with mostly girls, it’s the fantasy they all have. Every single one. It bores me. Something tells me Mr. Clark will have something more to say on the matter.
He doesn’t stop running his hands through my hair, but says nothing. The meditative way that his chest is moving up and down relaxes me, although I am buzzing with anticipation, wondering what he’ll say next.
“I wanted you right away,” he begins. “That night I saw you in Cat on the Hot Tin Roof, I was mesmerized. Like an artist is with a muse.”
This is music to my actress ears. I don’t think I’ve ever been called a muse before. Not in so many words.
“But...if I tell you about this... it goes without saying that we have to be really careful now. We’d get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out...”
I look up at him, into his eyes. My hair falls abundantly onto his chest in waves, the red against the crisp white of his shirt.
“Please trust me, Adam. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I just want to know you. I like you. Please.”
He takes a deep breath and begins again. “I had a dream. You were in it. It was really vivid.”
This piques my interest. I wonder if he had a wet dream about me and then had to go to class and teach me. My skin feels like it’s fluttering with excitement. Poor guy.
“You pressed me up against the wall, like in the grotto where we kissed. And you...”
“I, what? What did I do after that?”
I think I know where this is going. I start running my fingers around his upper thighs, onto the bulge in his pants.
“You undid the buttons on my coat, reached for my suit pants, my belt buckle. You were in a V-neck dress, you kneeled down in front of me, even though we were outside, and you gave me head.”
The upfront nonchalance with which he said this, the absence of shame or hesitation turns me on so much that I start kissing him wildly, running my hands under his shirt, over his taut warm abs. I feel for the bulge in his pants and it’s considerable, and I run my fingers along the length of it, pressing down. Feeling him hard makes me clench in excitement again between my legs.
I get on top of him, my full breasts pressing against his chest, my hair falling in waves over his face. His chest
feels firm yet soft, his shoulders are broad, I want to run my tongue along his ab muscles. I can tell he works out, even through his clothes. I push my breasts in his face and he’s sucking on my nipples again, trying to excite me. I’m straddling him while he licks and kisses my breasts, and begin leaning my weight against the wall behind the bed. I move his arms down and I can tell he’s about to scootch my legs up so I’m straddling his face. He’d like that. He’s so comfortable with my body, he wants me all over him.
“No, no!” I laugh, jumping off of him.
I lie down next to him again and then quickly get under the blanket before he can stop me. His hands are in my hair as I undo his belt, then the button on his pants, then his fly. I want to enact his fantasy, right here and now.
I can hear him breathing harder and it excites me as I reach into his boxers and take his cock out with my hands. It’s stiff, thick, and warm, bigger than most. I let my tongue touch his cock and he inhales sharply, it’s warm against my tongue. Then I run my tongue along the entire length of him and he lets out a moan, still stroking my hair, not stopping me. I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock, gently at first, teasing him. I take it into my mouth slowly, then try to take as much of it in my mouth at once as I can, beginning to bob up and down. Then I lick my palm and use my hand on him, sucking him off and gripping his cock at the same time. He lets out an excited moan, more guttural than before, and the muscles in his legs tense up.
“My God, Carrie,” he whispers.
I love making a guy moan. I run my tongue along his shaft gently, so lightly it makes him gasp before I put his cock back in my mouth. He’s taking sharp inhales of breath, the sounds he’s making are breathier somehow than I thought they’d be. The sounds of pleasure escaping his lips are turning me on so much I’m aching between my legs again. My thighs are getting wet. The muscles in his torso tense as I keep going, and he has his hands in my hair, gripping it gently. I like the thought of him objectifying me right now, like this. I hope he’s thinking about his fantasy come true, using me for his pleasure. When he was going down on me, I grabbed his head so hard I was afraid I hurt him afterwards, but while he was lapping my clit with his tongue I didn’t care what I did to him as long as he didn’t stop. I want him to stop worrying about how wrong it is to have a student suck him off. I want him to come so hard he can’t feel his legs either.
“You can let go,” I whisper.
“What?” he asks me, breathless, looking down at my face.
“I want you to relax. Grab onto me if you want, don’t be afraid of hurting me.”
We exchange smiles as I attempt to put the entire length of him in my mouth at once. Adam grabs the back of my head hard, guiding me down onto him and back up again. I keep going, my lips puffing up against the slick hardness of him. The noises he’s making are driving me wild, it creates this positive feedback loop where the louder he’s moaning, the harder I’m bobbing up and down on him. He reaches for the top of my stocking at my upper thigh and slips his fingertips into them. I keep going.
“Just like that. Yes.. Yes.. I’m.. yes,” he exhales. He inhales sharply and moans.
I can feel the come start rushing through his shaft and into my mouth. I go harder until he’s spent and lie my head down on his pelvis to catch my breath. His whole torso is rising and falling with breath, very fast at first and then slower. His hands find my shoulders and we share this moment in silence.
“That... that was amazing,” he says finally.
I sit up and take a sip of my wine. I’m still naked except for the stockings and I hope they don’t have any runs. I must look pretty damn hot right now.
“Now, tell me a fantasy of yours,” he says. It’s a question I’ve never been asked before. It’s obvious from the way I laugh out loud, almost dropping my glass of wine. Adam looks at me, confused. “Come on, I told you,” he pleads.
“It’s not that,” I say, swallowing the last sip from the fancy wine glass and getting up to put it in his sink. Adam’s eyes follow me, garter belt and stockings still on, breasts swaying slightly. I’m comfortable, even like this, walking around half-naked. My posture is straight as though I’m walking across a stage.
When I get back to him, it’s starting to bug me that he’s so clothed. “I’ve fantasized about seeing you naked, professor.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair.”
He stands up and begins taking off his shirt, one button at a time, not breaking eye contact with me. His suit pants, which are still unbuttoned, slide to the floor without much urging. He’s long and lean, not bulky. His abs have definition and he has to be over six feet tall. Broad shoulders, long arms. His thick blond hair looks slightly ruffled in a sexy way, and his day old scruff endears me even more. Now we’re even. He’s standing in his boxers, and I can see the outline and shadow of his dick through the cotton.
“Take a shower with me?” I ask.
His eyes widen and an amused expression appears on his gorgeous face as he points behind me toward the bathroom. I turn to walk and he follows me in. I can’t believe any of this is happening. What time is it? It must be late, but I don’t want to check. I know what we’ve just done, but now I’m about to take a shower with Mr. Clark, too? There are towels folded neatly on a metal rack. This guy has a thing for racks, it would seem. He bends down to undo my stockings from the garters for me, each one snapping free with a slight jump. He rolls the black stockings off of my legs one by one, stopping to linger near my pussy for just a moment so I can feel his breath there.
He turns the silver knob on the shower and it rushes to life. I slide the satin garter belt off my waist and down my legs, stepping out of it gingerly. I hand it to him. The top of my head reaches his mid-chest. Standing completely naked with him, facing him, I feel the heat coming off his body and my clit stiffens, my inner lips swelling with excitement.
He takes his boxers off, and I take a small peek between his legs. I don’t mean to, but my eyes just went there automatically. I want to see all of him. It’s different seeing him naked in the light like this. When I gave him head it was under the blanket, and you can only see so much with your hands and mouth.
The steam from the shower is filling his bathroom now, the walls deep navy with white tile. I like his aesthetic. It looks clean, expensive. Intentional. Most guys I know can barely hang a poster straight. He checks the temperature of the water with his fingers.
“Mm, okay, you can step in. It’s good.”
I cross his body, brushing my ass against his middle and step into the shower without testing the water first myself. The temperature is perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. I’m starting to trust him more and more when he tells me things are good.
He steps in behind me and then we’re facing each other, me hogging most of the water, standing under the shower head. He lets me dip my head back first, wetting my hair completely. I close my eyes and let the water rush down the length of my entire body, my nipples stiffening from the temperature change.
When I open my eyes I’m surprised again to see him there, my gorgeous photography teacher, completely bare, washing himself off after we’ve just had, at least in my case, the best head of my life. He leans in to kiss me and the temperature of his mouth is almost the same as the water around us. My shoulders relax as I kiss him. I like the taste of his mouth, the smell of his skin.
He dips his hair under the water briefly before letting me have most of it again. It’s slightly awkward, being with him like this. We have to look into each other’s eyes, we can’t deny that we’re both naked. I smile at him, and the warmth on his face makes me feel more comfortable.
“Turn around,” he orders me.
I turn and press my back against his chest and he wraps his arms around my torso, lingering around my breasts with his hands, my nipples stiffening in his palms. Then he settles around my narrow waist, his large forearms wrapping sternly around me and pulling my body clos
e. I can feel him pressed against me at the top of my ass, and I push myself flush against him, hard. He suds up a bar of soap in his hands, turning it around and around, slick and slippery. The smell of almond enters my nostrils. He uses his soaped up hands to wash my middle, rubbing suds around my bare breasts, my back, my shoulders. I close my eyes and lean my head back, resting on him, just concentrating on the feel of his hands as they expertly explore my whole body.
The warm water is beating down steadily against my chest and torso, running down my legs. Both of us are covered in steam. Adam rinses his hands clean and touches me between my legs, rubbing the folds of my skin, the pink parts and the outer lips. I push my ass back into him on instinct, but he holds me steady. Moans escape my lips and I can feel him pressing against me. Then his hands are on my ass, squeezing my round cheeks before touching my pussy again. I hold him steady around the wrist with my hand and he rubs me in consistent circles. I can feel myself get wet again.
“Hey, I just got all clean,” I laugh.
“I just can’t stop touching you,” he says.
I turn toward him and reach up for a kiss. He switches places with me, washes himself quickly.
“All done?” he asks, with a smirk.
I nod, running my hands through my hair and squeezing the excess water out. He steps out before me and hands me a fluffy white towel from the rack. To my surprise, it’s warm. He wraps one around his own waist and looks up at me, drying myself while standing in his white porcelain tub.
“Oh, yeah,” he starts. “They’re heated. The towel rack heats them up, I swear it’s the best thing I’ve ever bought.
I rub the front of my body with the warm towel, my skin prickling with goosebumps. I look at him skeptically.
“You have luxury items in weird places.”