Pupil: Inspired By a True Story

by Zoey Long

  I bite my lip and look down his body straight to the crotch of his pants and back up again.

  Adam moves his hands from the arms of the chair but I don’t dare move a single solitary muscle. He puts his hands flat down on my knees, both of them at the same time, sternly. His palms are warm and buzzing against my skin as he slowly begins to spread my knees apart. I don’t resist him, it’s like a game of chicken to see how far he’ll spread me open and how far I’ll let him go. I don’t break eye contact, and soon my legs are spread so far apart that he can see the milkiness of my upper thighs, the translucent navy panties I put on that morning. The ones he bought me from the fancy boutique. My expression stays the same and my hip points are responding, he has my legs spread so wide open now that I can feel some soreness in my hip muscles.

  “Put each leg up on the arm of the chair,” he orders me in a cool, even tone. I’m so turned on by this command that I do so immediately, still not breaking eye contact. “Good. Now show me your pussy.”

  My eyebrows move a bit, but that’s the only indication that I’m hesitating. I look past his shoulders to the door.

  “It’s locked. There’s no one here,” he asserts. “Now, Miss Desmond. Show me your pussy.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for me to be any more turned on than I was when he fucked me against the wall of that fancy hotel room, but this kind of sexual play in his fucking office goes beyond anything I could have imagined. I’m sweating and I’m so turned on right now I feel nauseated. There must be a puddle of my own wetness on his student chair.

  My hand shakes as I move it to my underwear, hook my middle finger underneath, and pull my panties to the side. My pussy feels warm and swollen, still shaved from the weekend, just the wisps of red in a neat, small triangle.

  He bites his lip for a moment and smiles, looking at me bare and exposed in his office chair. My thighs must be glistening wet.

  “Close your eyes,” he says. I don’t break his gaze for a moment longer, look at him with a questioning air. “Please.”

  I decide to play along and close my eyes, all I can smell now is the scent of book pages and wood, everything signaling to my brain that I’m on campus at Earnsley, in a classroom building, in a teacher’s office, in the main photography office, in Adam’s office. I take a few deep breaths, still holding my panties to the side, lips parted. I hear voices of students outside the windows, people laughing and clapping soles of feet against pavement. I wonder if any of my friends are outside right now.

  And then I feel his fingers, just his pointer and middle finger on each hand tracing their way from my knees to where my legs meet my pussy. My breath catches, it's ragged, staccato, and vibrating. The finger that is holding my panties to the side begins to relax. He puts his hand on my fingers and moves them, he moves both of my hands actually to the arms of the wooden chair presses them palms down to signify that I should keep them in place. Without my sight I'm focusing only on my other senses, I can hear him breathing, surprisingly his breath does not sound labored like mine, but even and calm. I can smell not only the air in the room but I can smell Adam, the woody musk of his aftershave, the freshness of shampoo, the cotton warmth of his shirt and finally the distinct, intimate scent of his skin.

  Adam puts both his hands on my hips now, my dress is still up around my waist. I realize I'll let him do anything despite what we talked about just yesterday about being careful, despite how dangerous it is for us to be intimate right now in any way, despite the fact that I could be expelled and he could be fired. This is absolutely unequivocally, without a doubt the hottest moment of my life. I lower my legs for only a moment when he grabs my panties from both sides in his hands and begins to drag them down and off of my hips, past my thighs, my knees, my calves, my ankles, and finally, down over the small heels of my black leather Mary Janes.

  I hear long inhale of breath and in my fantasy he stopping to sniff my panties. I have no idea if this is actually happened, but the thought of it makes me pant even harder. Now I'm completely exposed, naked from the waist down in the middle of his office with the door locked, awaiting what I'm not sure. What he does next makes me jump, because I feel smooth warm air against my pussy, and realize that he's blowing on me ever so gently.

  "Keep your eyes closed."Adam moves his face close to my pussy and I can feel him breathing against my skin and once again he blows on me, making my pelvis jerk with excitement. I dig my hands into the hard wooden edges of the arms of the chair and try my very best not to press my pelvis into his mouth. I'm concentrating so hard on my other senses that I hear his mouth open and I can feel that he's about to put his mouth on my skin.

  "Shhhhh," he says, "you have to be quiet."

  And the next thing I feel is his warm wet tongue dragging upward from the opening of my pussy to the very top of my slit. I want to ask him if he's fucking kidding right now, how am I supposed to keep quiet like this, this is insane. But my desire for this unbelievable experience to continue trumps any protest I might want to give.

  Seeing that I'm able to be quiet, he starts licking my clit more intently, slowly at first then lapping it over and over with the end of this tongue. My breath becomes staccato once again as my pelvis warms and clenches on the inside. Then he's whispering in my ear.

  "Carrie, I want you to stand up please, leave your dress up around your waist where it is, turn around so that your ass is facing me and put your palms back down against the wood arms of the chair." He kisses me then on the cheek to let me know that we're still us, that he still loves me and that nothing has changed since we parted in front of the Spade Hotel yesterday afternoon.

  I stand up in my Mary Janes and do as I'm told, turning my bare ass to face him and bending down, placing my palms on the arms of the chair, awaiting his next move. I arch my back and stick my ass out saucily, taunting him with its perfectly tight, round shape. I hope he's looking at my dripping wet pussy from behind right now. I hang my head down toward the seat and open my eyes just for a brief moment. There is most definitely a wet mark on the leather seat. I close my eyes again and then there's the searing scratch of his fingernails down my legs. He squeezes my ankles in both hands as if to cement my feet in place before gently running his hands back up my legs and stopping at my ass. I wet my lips with my tongue and swallow a few times to moisten my throat. With my eyes tightly closed, I think I hear the distinct sound of his zipper but I can't be sure.

  "I really want to spank you right now. Like, I have a ruler in my desk. It has a steel edge. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "Mm-hmm," I moan affirmatively. My calf muscles engage as I hold myself in position.

  "What was that?"

  "Yes," I say firmly. "I would like that. I would like that very much, professor."

  Adam presses his hard bulge against my ass and speaks again. "Do you see how hard you made me? I was hard all through class, if you must know. Can you feel that?" He pushes his pelvis harder into my bare ass and I swear I can feel myself dripping down my thigh.

  "I would like very much to spank you, you know that. Especially in this office right now. I'd like to leave an entire row of thin, uniform ruler marks on your beautiful ass. But we both know how much noise that would make and we can’t have that, can we?"

  No, we can't have that. I shake my head no, biting my lip again and hoping with every nerve in my body that he'll fuck me like this.

  "No. So I think this is better."

  Now I do hear the zipper very distinctly as he opens his fly, and begins to rub his erect penis on my ass. I inhale sharply and arch my back pressing myself into him as hard as I can.

  "Please," I whisper loudly. "Please baby, please fuck me."

  "You want it just like this? You want me to fuck you from behind?" he teases, still rubbing his cock over my ass, jerking it a bit and teasing the opening of my pussy with the tip of his dick. It's maddening.

  "Please, professor. Please fuck me."

 
His cock invades me suddenly, and I'm so wet he can put it in all the way to the hilt. He lets out an exhale of ecstasy as he enters me and begins to thrust. I'm not making any noise and it’s taking everything I have not to squeal out with pleasure.

  He leans down and whispers in my ear, "You're so tight, you feel so fucking good."

  He reaches around with his right hand and begins rubbing my swollen clit with two fingers. I bounce my ass back hard into him as he fucks me, closing my eyes and hearing the wet sound of him sliding in and out of me. A sharp orgasm begins from where he's rhythmically rubbing my clit like the crest of a wave, and then the warm good feeling radiates deep inside my pussy. I clench around his hot cock and involuntarily thrust my ass hard against him. He braces himself and keeps thrusting, and before long his breathing changes, signaling that he's about to come

  "I shouldn't come inside you right now baby, we have to walk out of here like nothing happened, but I don't know how much longer I can hold out." He starts fucking me more slowly, not putting his thick cock all the way in anymore, so he doesn't start coming in me. "If I pull out of you, you turn around get on your knees and let me do it in your mouth?"

  The thought of this makes me feel like I may be able to come again. I tell him yes, and after a few short thrusts he pulls out. I turn around quickly, pulling my hair back and dropping to my knees on the hard floor. He's holding his hard cock, stiff and red in his hand, ready to jerk off in my mouth. I guide his dick into my mouth, taking it completely. This surprises him, because there's a sharp inhale of breath. He pulls it out of my mouth and looks into my eyes, wets his palm and begins to jerk it off above my mouth.

  “It'll be...quietest… this way..." He smiles, and I give him a smirk, knowing if I let him shoot it directly down my throat he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crying out. He holds my chin with one hand and jerks himself off with the other, our eyes locked. His breath is labored, looking down at my naked pussy while he rubs his cock. Finally, he nods and I know he's about to come. His hand feverishly rubs the shaft of his cock, the head of it pink and throbbing. My own pussy is throbbing at the same time, and I wish I could rub myself along with him. I open my swollen lips to receive him, and close my eyes while he holds my face and I feel warm come spurt and pool slowly in my mouth. He winces out of extreme pleasure, inhaling through closed teeth, his hips bucking toward my face, but he doesn't make a sound. Without breaking eye contact, I swallow all of it, close my eyes, and let him press my face gently to his pelvis.

  There is no sound after that, no one pounding on the door, no one peering through the windows, no knocking, no voices of students or teachers. I think for a moment, in this blissful silence, my pussy warm and buzzing with sweet release, that we might get just away with this after all.

  When the moments have passed, I stand up from my kneeling position, one leg and then the other, smoothing my emerald green shift dress over my hips and ass, and straightening myself up. We’re at eye level now, and Adam zips up his pants and runs his hands through his disheveled hair, smiling.

  “Will that be all then, sir?” I ask him that same devilish look in my eye as moments before.

  Adam throws his arms around me, pulling me tight into his chest. My face is nestled just below his shoulder I reach up on my tiptoes to reach the crook of his neck.

  "My God," he breathes, "what are we gotten ourselves into?" I look up at him and smile as he cradles my face in his hands once more and moves in to kiss me gently my eyes closed. "This can't happen every Monday. Are you sure you don't want to drop this class? I can teach you photography on your own time.”

  "No. Absolutely not. I'm not gonna let a little thing like not being able to keep my hands off of you and being absolutely ridiculously head over heels in love with you get in the way of my education," I say piously. "I love you, too."

  We look at each other with hopelessness in our eyes, almost like we're resigning ourselves to the fact that we are powerless to resist one another, whether we are standing in the middle of New York City, in his apartment in Bushwick, in a fancy hotel downtown, or smack dab in the middle of Earnsley campus.

  "One thing you could do for me, though, I'd like to turn the camera lens on you sometime." Adam raises an eyebrow in my direction, as if no one has ever suggested he sit for photographs before. "Oh please, Adam, you're telling me you've been a photographer for this long and no one's ever turned the tables on you? With a face like that? With abs like that?"

  He shrugs his shoulders and smiles. I'm sure I’ll get that story out of him later, when we’re alone again. I mean really alone. Now there is a knock on his office door and we both jump, even though we have nothing to cover up any more, I'm no longer on my knees, my dress is back where it needs to be and his pants are all zipped. We're just a regular teacher and student finishing up our weekly conference.

  "The best place to hide is in plain sight," Adam says, moving toward the door turning the antique gold knob and opening it. It's a male student, I've seen him before but I don't know his name. I take this time to excuse myself, thanking Adam formally and slinking past both him and the male student, out of the office door. I can see Adam wanted to say something to me before I left, to have the chance to set up some kind of plan to meet up later on, but in the presence of that boy it was impossible. I gave him a reassuring smile before slipping out the door. It's the information age we have phones he needs to chill his shit.

  I make my way to the theater building to try and sign up for auditions and the first person I see is Michelle. She sees me out of the corner of her eye, adjusts her glasses, and keeps talking to her companion. I don't like this. We shouldn’t be fighting. The heels of my Mary Janes click against the hard floor as I walk over to the auditions board. My heart skips a beat when I see that the late spring play will be the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. What actress doesn't love Shakespeare? That makes me laugh. Actually, I can think of quite a few actresses who don't love Shakespeare. However, I'm not one of them. Of course, Brett will want me for the role of Titania, the ethereal misguided queen of the fairies. I write my name in bold block letters under the audition list, signing myself up to read for the role of Puck.

  That afternoon in the library, I’m looking at some of the materials that Adam set aside. Someone jumps on me from behind, wrapping their arms around my shoulders. I jump, and in milliseconds I realize that it’s Alexis.

  “SHHHHH,” she whispers in my ear, arms still around me. I communicate with her in a loud whisper, turning my head and getting a full face of her strawberry blond locks. She smells like sunscreen and incense.

  “What the fuck?” I spit at her, louder than anticipated.

  She’s giggling, happy with herself that she surprised me and made me jump. Alexis plunks down in the armchair directly across from mine, her legs slightly spread apart, the delicate fabric of her long dress draping over and past her knees, down to her ankles and sandals. The pattern is quite pleasing, an ivory background with blue and purple blooms strewn all over it.

  “Cute dress,” I say, then look back at my book.

  “Thanks!”

  I make eye contact with her for a moment and then look back down at my book, which is so large it covers most of my face, hoping she’ll get the hint.

  Alexis sigha, slinking down in the chair, and I see that she has faux gold rings on almost all of her fingers, thicks and thins coiling around every other digit. She looks out the window and relaxes even more fully into the chair.

  I raise my eyebrow and look at her again, and now she’s looking out the window listlessly, her back completely supported by the chair. I half expect her to put her feet up on the little brown wooden table that’s between us.

  “My god, they should outlaw e-cigarettes here,” she says, apropos of nothing. “Look at that.”

  Alexis peers out the window, pointing to a young guy in jeans and a ripped t-shirt standing directly in front of the library entrance. His body is su
rrounded by a gargantuan plume of e-cigarette smoke. I can almost taste the honey waffle flavor as it wafts through the glass. He takes another long drag, pressing the button that activates the heating mechanism inside his vape for way longer than necessary, drawing on the metal pen before letting out an even larger plume of smoke up and over his head.

  “You know it’s just as dangerous as regular cigarettes,” she begins. “I read this article on the advent of something called popcorn lung, it’s really disgusting. That’s why I stick to these.” She takes a pack of cloves out of her bag, nauseating as they are. I’ve heard those are packed with fiberglass.

  Alexis laughs and rolls her eyes. “I know, they’re not much better.”

  “So… what’s up? I was kind of working,” I say finally.

  “Holy shit, dude. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize. I just really need to talk to you. I’ve been trying to get you alone since you got back on campus. I have the Best. Gossip. Ever.”

  Alexis is so dramatic that she thinks everything she hears is the best gossip ever. She sits up as straightly as the orange backed armchair will allow, her bottom hovering against the edge of the seat. Her monster blue eyes are wide and bright.

  I close the book on a group of friends sitting in a cafe, singing with painted lips and mouths agape, frozen in time until my eyes take them in again. I lay the shiny wide book of photographs down on my lap, holding the far edge in both hands.

  “OK,” Alexis begins excitedly, trying her best to keep in mind that we’re in a library. “So. Do you remember two years ago when that female teacher was fired? Christina Mulligan?” I shake my head. “The eighteenth century novel professor who tried to quit her job because she wanted to marry a freshman?”

  Why is she bringing this up right now? I do remember this. It was a huge scandal. Christina Mulligan was over forty years old, a divorcee who fell in love with a wide eyed, floppy haired freshman boy named Michael. He was from somewhere in Wisconsin, a pretty talented guitar player. I’m sure she was his first sexual encounter. In fact, I think they did end up getting married. That’s the rumor. She was fired before she could quit, because the freshman started telling everyone that they were in love and getting married. There was a formal investigation into the nature of their relationship, and when evidence that was not made public to the student body was discovered, she was let go. I’m not sure what happened to Michael.