His cock was hard, warm and hard and smooth in her hand. He breathed harder, sighed against her skin. His cock was against her back, hot and thrusting against her, and she liked how much he wanted her.
It was like at the party, but with more time to enjoy it, and what they’d done at the party had been the best she’d had in a very long time.
Maybe he was thinking that too. He pushed her forward, bent her over the back of the couch, and she wasn’t really sure she was okay with that. Except for how she was.
“Watch it,” she said, but he didn’t listen.
He pushed her foot with one of his, moved her legs further apart. He was still holding her wrist.
“Don’t be so fucking rough,” she said, irritated, but knew she wasn’t really.
He disappeared for a moment. He was still holding her, pushing her down, but he wasn’t standing pressed up against her skin like he had been. She wasn’t sure where he’d got to until he licked her.
He bent her over her sofa, and held her by her bent arm, and ate her out from behind, and she wriggled back against him and tried to pretend she wasn’t turned on by being held down like this and tongue-fucked.
It seemed wrong. It just didn’t seem right, but it was hot.
She moved her feet further apart, and lifted her hips to help him reach. He seemed to be trying to push his tongue right inside her. His breath was hot and fast on the skin inside her thigh, and his hand, around her wrist, was holding her very firmly.
He stood up. He kept holding her wrist, and twisted his hand around her hair too. He stood up behind her, holding her down like that, and she knew his cock had to be inches away from her. Her feet were apart and she was ready and his cock had to be right there, behind her. She wanted to push back onto him, but he was holding her down enough she couldn’t easily more.
She waited, aching with wanting, all curled up inside. She wanted it. She was breathing hard, would have gasped for him to fuck her if that wasn’t a bit undignified.
He just kept standing there.
She was about to tell him to stick it in, to fuck her, that she couldn’t wait, when he said, “I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t have a condom.”
She lost a little of her held-down fantasy. She twisted sideways, looked back at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think…”
She bit her lip and wondered if she should tell him to stick it in anyway. She was tempted. She was achingly tempted.
She’d already had him in her mouth bare. Having him in the rest of her wouldn’t really matter.
She was about to say stop fucking talking and fuck me, when he pushed his fingers inside her, and started fucking her fairly hard with those.
It was a bit mechanical, but it worked. She pushed back, felt herself spread open, decided those would do instead. Probably better, she decided. Far faster fucking than his hips could have done. He held her down, bent over the furniture, and pushed his fingers up inside her, rubbing fast. She was trying to climb backwards up his hand by the time she got there.
She came, and lay there panting, a bit horrified at what she’d done.
He was trying to pull her up, probably to kiss her and be all sweet, and she didn’t want sweet right now. She didn’t want to be held down for a rough hand-job, and then to be sweet and tender.
She shook her wrist free and turned around, grabbed him and tugged, pulled him over the back of the couch on top of herself. She wriggled down, and put his cock in her mouth.
He was half on top of her, leaning on the back of the couch. She sucked him, bobbing up and down to move, like doing crunches. Normally she wouldn’t dream of doing this, wouldn’t ever let a guy get on top and fuck her mouth, but she was feeling dirty and brave and doing all sorts of strange things she didn’t expect of herself. He was pretty good about it, didn’t move too much until right at the end, when he lost control a bit.
She realized she must trust him, at least during sex. It helped he was only rough when he was doing her, she thought. Having her wrists held while she got head, that was sexy. Being held down while he fucked her mouth, that would probably be too much.
He came in her mouth, then flopped a bit, slumping onto her, so he was relaxed but his cock was still in her mouth. She sucked it gently, bringing him down. Sucked, until he lifted her up, dislodging her. She didn’t quite understand, but then he sat down again and put her head on his leg and she did.
He wasn’t looking at her. He stroked her arm and breast, but he didn’t look at her, like maybe he was embarrassed by what he’d just done too.
She liked him more for that.
She was draped along the couch, sprawled out and feeling all lazy and happy, and she realized he was looking at her. She felt suddenly nervous, wanted to press her knees together, fold her arms somewhere. She didn’t, mainly because she wasn’t going to turn into that person. She wasn’t really that uncomfortable with her body, it was just the intensity of his stare.
He stroked her face. Her lips, touching her mouth like it was a kiss, wiping away a little of the taste of him. Her neck, so she shivered. He was taking her all in. Like she was something important, something he admired and didn’t want to break.
“Stop it,” she said.
“Let me look.”
“No.” She didn’t entirely mean it. His interest was flattering, kind of sexy. Like he really, really wanted her. Her, not just anyone available and with the right bits.
“I love your body.”
“Stop it,” she said, and closed her eyes, so she didn’t have to watch him staring.
“You’re fucking hot. Really fucking hot.”
She lifted her hand, pretended she was about to hit him. “Stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just stop.”
He grinned, kept looking.
“I want to fuck some more,” she said. “You’re pissing around too much.”
“Okay.”
“You can?”
He shrugged, like he didn’t quite get why she was asking, and that made her wet again.
“Come upstairs,” she said, and sat up.
She walked around naked at home when she needed to, and didn’t really think about it. Now he was staring at her, watching her ass go up the stairs, and she did. She might have to walk around naked a lot more, when he was here.
She went into the bedroom, and didn’t quite realize she was standing in front of him again, until he grabbed her. Things kept happening whenever she stood in front of him.
He pushed her onto the bed, and she said, “Hey,” but before she could get up or roll over he had knelt down and started eating her out. Again. She knelt there and felt his tongue on her and told herself she was lucky, unspeakably lucky.
After a while she decided she really needed a fuck. There’d been too much with hands and tongues. She needed cock inside herself.
She had condoms in her beside drawer, with her vibrators. She slid forward, tugged the drawer open, yanked too hard and the whole drawer came out and landed on the floor.
Ethan looked down, grinning. Just grinning. And now she was the nympho professor with the drawer full of sex toys.
“Oh fuck off,” she said. “Everyone has them.” She decided she wasn’t going to get embarrassed.
“Sure,” he said, and picked one up, looked at her. It was a rabbit. She took masturbation seriously enough to own a rabbit, and she didn’t care if he knew. It looked a bit industrial, had a few too many appendages, she supposed. It wasn’t discreet and sleek like the others.
“Another time,” she said, and pushed it away.
He kept grinning. She pulled him over and kissed him again.
“Did you think about me?” he said into her mouth. “This week. Using them?”
“Nope,” she said.
“You didn’t?”
“Nope I’m not talking about that.”
“So you did?”
“No fucking way am I answering that.”
>
He kept looking at her.
“Why?” she said after a moment, stopping kissing him. “Did you?”
“Jerk off thinking about you?” he said. “Shit, yeah. A lot.”
That was interesting. “How much?”
“A lot.”
She waited.
“Most days.”
“Thinking about me?”
He shrugged.
“Shit.” She lay there, considering. He started kissing her neck. “Did you come to the lectures this week?” she said.
“You didn’t see me?”
“I didn’t fucking know to look for you. Did you?”
“Yeah.”
“On Tuesday?” He nodded. “Thursday?” Another nod. “Then, what? Had a good look, went home and…?”
“Pretty much. I could still remember how you felt. How wet you were. How your mouth felt.”
She lay there for a while and looked up at him, and decided it was hot, not creepy. It was fucking hot to be wanted that much.
“Um,” she said. “Yes. Don’t ask me shit like that, because it’s rude, but if you must know, yes.”
“How much?”
“A bit.”
He kept looking at her.
“Shit,” she said. “Most days.”
They looked at each other and she was suddenly breathlessly turned on.
“After lectures?” he said.
“When I got home. On Thursday I think, yeah.”
“Straight after?”
“A bit after.”
“So while I was at home, thinking about you, you were at home thinking about me.”
“Oh shit,” she said. “Oh shit, fuck me.”
He fumbled around with the condom while she bit her lip and made herself wait. She wanted to scream, or snatch it away from him and do it herself, but she stayed still. He got it in the end, and slid on top of her, and she grabbed his cock and pulled it inside herself. Pulled this hard solid thing inside herself, and couldn’t think or breathe for a moment as it went in.
She’d had it before, but this was different. She had time, and was in her bed, and he wasn’t hurrying now. She’d never quite got the hang of comparisons, could feel a difference when they were inside her, but couldn’t remember one against the next to look at. Ethan was about as long as her hand, and as thick as her fingers would go around, and that was perfect, more than enough. He was fucking her wildly again, enthusiasm rather than finesse, and she left her hand between them, her fingertips steering him back inside when he slipped.
He fucked her until she couldn’t think.
He watched her, and told her she was hot, and told her he loved her body, that he wanted to watch her come.
“Soon,” she said. “When I do.”
He said he couldn’t believe he was doing his professor, and Beth glared at him. “Don’t say that,” she said. “Fucking seriously.”
“Sorry,” he said.
She was too. “Just don’t,” she said. “Fuck me.”
He turned her over and did her doggy, and filled her. She’d forgotten sex could be like this. He was pushing into her hard, bumping her up the bed. She had to grab the bed-head and hold on to keep her balance. She was close. Closer because she was face-down, not being stared at and she didn’t want him seeing her orgasm face. Closer because he was behind her and she kept fucking him like that. He was trying to grab her clit from behind, getting tangled, messing up his timing.
“No,” she said, and pushed his hand away. Pressed on it herself. After a minute, wondering why she said it. “Hold my wrist.”
He did, and she came. She must have been closer than she realized. She came, a long, breathless, gaspy orgasm, and worried as she finished that she’d been louder, more whorey-sounding, than she’d meant to.
“Yeah?” he said. Gasped.
“Yep,” she said. “Go.”
He must have been holding back. He shifted, went faster. She put her face down, leaned on her arm. She could see his face in the mirror, under her other arm. He was staring down at her, watching her. Watching his cock go into her, maybe. Or just watching her back, the back of her head. She couldn’t quite work that one out, then she did. He was watching like he couldn’t believe he was inside her. Like he had a crush, and wanted this, and he couldn’t believe he’d got it.
She liked that. She was starting to trust him, to believe he meant everything he said. She knelt there and watched his face. She could feel when he did, inside herself, but she could see it on his face too, when he closed his eyes and stopped moving for a second, and opened his mouth, and was done.
He lay down on her back, so she slowly tipped forward. Lay on her and hugged her and kissed the back of her head. She was hot. Her skin was sweaty. She couldn’t breath properly underneath him.
“Hey,” she said. “Don’t worry about that.”
He looked at her.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “Hold me afterwards and all that shit.”
“I don’t mind.”
She pushed him off. “I do. It’s too hot.”
He kissed her.
“Don’t do that either,” she said.
He rolled over onto his back and looked the ceiling, breathing hard.
“And hey,” she said, while she was criticizing. “Don’t talk so much about me being your professor, okay? It’s kind of creepy.”
“Yeah, okay.”
They took turns in the bathroom. Him first, because he had the rubber on. “Out there,” she said. Pointed. “Closed door across the way.”
She sent him to the main bathroom, not the ensuite. It wasn’t really thought out, but it felt right once it was done. She didn’t want him hearing her pee that close by, didn’t really want to hear him either, but most of all she didn’t want him in her space. Guests went into the main bathroom, it was kind of a public place. Since she’d been living here she’d been the only person in the ensuite and she’d got used to not sharing.
She heard the flush and the delay after was long enough he’d probably washed his hands. She got up and went herself, was quick because she didn’t completely trust him, half expected him to be gone, but when she came back she found him sitting on the bed. He watched her come back.
She perched beside him. She found this moment a bit awkward. Basically making small-talk to prove you cared about his mind and therefore weren’t a total slut. Or while you waited to see if he could get it up again.
Ethan started looking around her room. In the wardrobe, in her drawers. He didn’t get up, but he didn’t need to, because she wasn’t that tidy. The wardrobe doors were always open, as were two drawers of the dresser. He was peering.
“Stop it,” she said.
“I’m not doing anything.”
She had a pile of books beside the bed. He rolled over, picked them up.
“Stop.”
“I just want to look.”
The books were all work ones, all dull and too advanced for him to understand. Mostly in maths you read papers on your computer. Very occasionally someone printed an actual book, and she took those home to read at night. He looked at the spines, then rolled over and put the whole pile down again. He stood up and started wandering around the room.
“Hey,” she said. “Watch it.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I’ve already seen the worst.” He looked at the vibrators on the floor.
“How do you know that’s the worst?”
He looked at her.
“I’m just saying, there could be whips and a gimp mask in the hall cupboard.”
He looked out towards the hall, almost interested.
“Nope,” she said. “Fine, poke around in my life.” She lay there and watched him.
He looked at her underwear, and said, “You’ve got some nice stuff.”
“Yep.”
“Do you wear them to lectures?”
She looked at him for a moment. “Yep.”<
br />
He looked in her wardrobe. “I remember some of these.”
“Careful.”
He grinned, pointed to a dress. “That goes see-through when the light’s behind it.”
“I know.”
He sat beside her and kissed her some more. Kissed her face, her neck, then slowly tipped her over, laid her down so he could kiss all down her back, down her spine, to her ass.
“What are you doing here?” she said. “I mean really. I’m too old for you.”
“I’ve had a terrible fucking crush on you for a year.”
“I can’t decide if I should believe you.”
“You should.”
“I can’t. I haven’t yet. It’s pissing me off a bit.”
“Just believe me.”
“Why should I?”
“You’re smart. I like smart.”
She was a bit surprised by that. “Not that I’m your professor?”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?”
“Just this once.”
He slid off her, sat beside her. “Not really,” he said. “Kind of, but not really. If you’d just been someone in the class, I’d still want you.”
“Someone smart?”
“Yeah, the chick who always talks to the professor, who always asks the right questions. Her.”
“I used to be her,” Beth said. “I don’t think anyone thought it was sexy.”
“They just didn’t know how to tell you.”
She at him for a moment, then grinned. “I’m older than you,” she said.
He shrugged.
“Do you mind I’m older?”
“One way or the other, I don’t really care. You’re not that old.”
“Huh,” she said, and lay backward, tired. He lay down beside her, not quite touching. They were both quiet for a while. She listened to the wind in the trees outside, and thought he might have dozed for a while. She felt sleepy too. Sluggish and sated and fucked more than she was used to.
It started to rain, heavily. Some thunder boomed a long way away.
“Maybe I should go,” he said.
“Wait until it stops,” she said. “You’re fine.”
He nodded, and kept lying where he was.
Chapter Four
Half an hour passed, and Ethan kept kissing her. He was halfway hard again, but didn’t seem to want to fuck, especially. Was just hard, like maybe guys that age were always hard around a woman they were into. It was flattering, Beth thought, a cheap thrill. She tried to remember who she’d slept with when she was his age, and couldn’t. Maybe nobody, she thought. She might have been working too hard, caring too much about exams. He was stroking her ribs, her armpit, light, but firm enough it was just bearable, and didn’t quite tickle. He had played with her breasts for twenty minutes. He was touching her silky-light on purpose, she thought. Teasing her, turning her on again, very slowly. Turning her on, but also just wanting to touch her because she was there.
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