by Parker Grey
Just hearing him say it makes me throb, my pussy practically drooling at the thought of his thick cock inside me.
“And your orgasms belong to me,” he finishes.
My breath catches in my throat, because the thought that I might not be allowed to come is almost physically painful.
“Yes, Professor,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says, then unwraps my legs from around him.
He walks me into my bedroom backward, his powerful hands on my hips, his mouth on mine, nearly slamming the door shut the second we’re alone in my bedroom — neat, bed made, small bookshelf carefully arranged, decorated with a poster of the Eiffel Tower.
“Strip,” he commands, even though he’s already pulling my shirt off. I struggle out of my shoes and jeans, and then seconds later I’m naked, vulnerable, and he’s still fully clothed.
I reach for the buckle on his pants but he grabs my wrist, laughing, and pulls my arm behind my back, yanking me toward him and now my naked body is touching his clothed one, his belt buckle cold against my warm skin.
He looks down at me, his face voracious, a hunger on it unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’m almost trembling with sheer desire for this man to take me, to claim me like he said he would.
I’ve never wanted that before, but I do now. I want to show him I’m his.
“Professor...” I start, though I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
He kisses me roughly anyway, cutting off my words, grabbing my hair with his other hand, and when he’s done with my mouth he turns me around and pushes me gently onto the bed until I’m on my hands and knees, ass up in the air, so wet I can feel my juices streaming down my thighs.
“You’ve got a beautiful pussy,” he says, letting his voice get low and rough. “I could stand here and admire it all day.
I inhale sharply, praying that he does more than admire it, and then I feel his fingers sliding up my thigh.
“But I’ve got better things to do to you, kitten,” he murmurs, and sucks my clit into his mouth.
I shout, my hands tightening on the bedspread, my eyes squeezing shut. I’ve been so deprived of his touch that I want to come right then and right there, but I force myself not to even though his mouth feels incredible.
The Professor moves quickly, from my clit to my pussy, pushing his tongue inside and curling it against that spot, fucking me hard with the dexterous appendage as I moan.
“You’re gonna make me come, Professor,” I whisper. “I can’t help it.”
He just moves his tongue along until he’s swirling it around that hole, and my eyes go wide. It feels good — fucking incredible — but oh, my god, it’s dirty. Too dirty, something I’d never in a million years have asked for.
I can’t believe my Roman History professor has his tongue on my asshole right now, and I can’t believe I like it so much.
He stops. I breathe deep, trying to collect myself, and look over my shoulder just as he lifts his shirt over his head, his muscles rippling even in the low light of my bedroom.
“Don’t you dare move,” he says, his hands unbuckling his belt much, much too slowly. “You’re fucking perfect where you are.”
He undoes his zipper, pushes his pants off, and his massive, thick cock springs out and into his hand.
I swear I whimper at the sight of it, and he grins, stroking it with his hand, pumping his hips just slightly as he does.
“This what you want, kitten?” he asks. “This what you’ve been aching for these past three weeks?”
As he speaks, he gets onto the bed behind me, his knees between mine, and runs one hand up my back.
“Yes,” I say, my voice nearly breaking with sheer need. “Please, Professor.”
“Please what?”
He runs one thumb over my dripping slit, all the way to my asshole, and my entire body quakes.
“I need you to fuck me,” I whisper, still somehow terrified of saying the words aloud. “In every hole. I need to be yours.”
Professor Sharpe growls, and in one quick move, he grabs my hips and drives his cock into my wet, waiting pussy, burying himself deep in a single stroke until his balls slap against me.
My elbows buckle and now my face is buried in the comforter as he rocks inside me, his cock touching every single sensitive spot I have. I’m trying to obey, trying not to come until he tells me, but it’s so fucking hard that I think I might lose my mind.
“You are mine,” he says, pulling out and then slamming into me again.
“Yes,” I breathe.
I can hear him breathing raggedly behind me, and I turn my head to watch as he fucks me. Within seconds he’s driving his cock into me hard, fast, and deep, my pussy stretched to the limit of what it can take, but God it feels good.
“Professor,” I say, pleading in my voice as he fucks me again. “Please let me come. Please.”
He just slams into me harder, grinning.
“Not yet, kitten,” he says. “I thought you wanted me in all your holes.”
He pushes himself deep again and my vision goes blurry as I will myself not to shatter right then and there. I did say that, but now that he’s actually inside me with his monster, I’m a little hesitant.
“Kitten,” he says, leaning over me, shifting his cock inside me as fireworks go off behind my eyelids. “I know you, and I know you’re a dirty, filthy girl who wants this thick cock in her tight little asshole.”
I bite my lip, because even if I’m hesitant about the mechanics, I do.
“But here’s the catch,” he says. “You have to ask for it.”
I swallow and squeeze my eyes shut, because even though he’s fucking me mercilessly right now, it still feels too dirty to say out loud.
“Professor,” I say. “I want you to fuck my ass, please.”
Chapter 22
Professor Sharpe
I nearly come when she says that, right then and there. Jesus, is there anything better than this beautiful, sexy girl on her knees in front of me, face down on the bed, begging me to fuck her ass?
“Please,” she goes on, panting for breath around the words. “I need you there. I want you to be my first.”
And only, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
I pull out and yank open the drawer of her bedside table. There’s a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. I take the lube, open it, and slather my twitching cock with it.
Then I drizzle some on Melody’s upturned ass, letting the cool, slippery liquid run down her crack, over her puckered, perfect bud, between her heated lips.
She sighs, her eyes fluttering closed, and I trace the line of the lube with my finger, pushing it into her back hole.
Melody makes another soft noise, her upper body going limp against the sheets.
“More,” she whispers.
I put a second finger into her ass, the ring of muscle gripping me tight, and Melody moans, arching her back and rolling her hips toward me. By now my cock is practically leaking pre-cum, and I’m a little afraid that I’m going to explode just watching her with my fingers in the ass.
“More,” she begs.
I add a third finger. She flexes her hips again, her knees going wider on the bedspread even though she was already completely bared to me, and she manages to push my fingers even further in as she moans.
That’s it. I can’t take any more. I need to claim her ass, now.
I pull my fingers out and push her down onto the bed, knees spread, and she looks over her shoulder at me, hands clutching the bedspread. I stroke my cock one more time, then rest the thick head on the bud of her back hole.
It looks impossible: my huge, thick cock and her tight ass, but I push against her slowly as she gasps.
“Relax, kitten,” I whisper. “I can’t fuck your ass like you want if you’re too tense.”
She opens to me slowly, biting her lip and looking over her shoulder at me as I slide through the incredible, tight ring of muscle and into her again. Finally the h
ead of my cock pops through and I stop for a second, feeling her flex and tighten around me, and I force myself not to come yet.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpers. “I need more.”
My balls tighten, but I take Melody by the hips and slide my cock the rest of the way in, savoring every millimeter as she moans and clutches the sheets, her face bright pink, her eyes close. Finally I’m all the way inside her ass to the hilt, and I pull her against me slightly.
Her eyes rolls back in her head.
“It feels so good when you fill me up like this,” she says, breathing hard.
“You like having your virgin asshole stretched out by a big thick cock?” I growl. “You like fucking dirty, kitten?”
“Yes, Professor,” she says.
It takes every single ounce of self-control I have to go slow, sliding my cock in and out of her perfect, tight hole an inch at a time so I don’t hurt her, but she begs me to go harder, faster, and before I know it I’m losing control, thrusting in and out of her ass harder than I meant to.
Melody’s writhing underneath me, moaning nonstop, whispering yes over and over. I don’t think I can last long; not in her perfect, tight, dirty hole, not with her clearly in ecstasy like this.
“Professor,” she says, her voice nearly breaking. “Please let me come.”
I’m breathless.
“It feels too good,” she says. “I’m afraid I’m going to come anyway. God, please let me. Please.”
Jesus.
“Come for me, Melody,” I say, but the second I get the first word out I can already feel her clench around me.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
Her eyes roll back into her head and she hands clutch the sheets, the knuckles going white as she moans the same phrase over and over again like she’s praying, oh God, oh God.
Melody’s ass tightens around me even more, gripping me like she’s pulling me in even further, and I can’t take it any more. I unload into her, pumping shot after shot into her as I fuck her wildly, helpless against the sheer, pure pleasure of her.
Then I collapse onto her back, our sweat mingling together, my face next to hers, my cock still in her ass. We’re both quiet for a little while, and then she opens her eyes and looks at me.
“Thank you,” she says.
I kiss her, even though the angle is awkward, hard and deep and for a long time before we finally get up.
That night, she makes us tea in her messy kitchen, and I swear to myself I’ll leave right afterward but I don’t. Instead we sit around and talk. About her thesis, but also the best Thai food in town, how to avoid falling on ice, stupid ways that students try to make their papers longer.
We talk until one in the morning. I didn’t mean to. It just happened, and when I realize what time it is, I’m baffled, because this was just supposed to be about sex.
I was just supposed to have sex with Melody until I got bored, then move on.
But I’m not bored. And I don’t want to move on.
“Listen,” she says, sitting on her couch, looking down, my arm around her. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, but it’s kind of late and my roommate won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon, so...”
She looks at me, her eyes big and wide.
“You can spend the night if you want,” she finally says.
I smile.
“I’d like that,” I say.
We fuck again. She comes twice this time, once on my tongue and once around my cock, and both times it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt.
Then I fall asleep with her in my arms, and the last thing I think before I fade is this is perfect.
Chapter 23
Melody
The night in my apartment is like a dam breaking loose. For the first two weeks of classes, the only way I do anything besides have sex with Professor Sharpe is through sheer force of will. I have to practically lock myself into the library to get anything done at all, and I still get an A minus on an English quiz.
I’m addicted. I can’t get enough, and the funny thing is, neither can he. Sometimes I’ll stop by his office at lunch just to suck his beautiful, perfect cock, only to get a text a few hours later that I should meet him in the faculty lounge bathroom in Barrons Hall.
He finds me in the library, bends me over the bathroom sink, and fucks my ass until my eyes roll back into my head. In the study rooms in the student union, the first place we fucked, he spreads my legs on the table, eats me out, then pounds me with my knees over his shoulders, hitting that deep, perfect spot inside me again and again.
Classrooms. Deserted back hallways. Library basements. His office. Bathrooms.
Professor Sharpe has claimed my body; he has access to every hole, and he uses it. Constantly.
And I want him to. God, do I want him to.
One day, feeling particularly like I can barely walk for lust, I get a little crazy. I lube up my asshole and go by his office right before office hours are ending, wearing a skirt.
Once I close the door behind me I climb on top of him and slide his huge cock into my ass with no warning, and he makes the most primal, guttural sound I’ve ever heard. He whispers filthy, dirty things into my ear as I ride him in reverse cowgirl, and he pulls me back against him and rubs my clit as I come again and again, almost uncontrollably.
I leave after a long, deep kiss, his semen still leaking from me. Tomorrow is Saturday, and Saturday means the one night a week I sleep at his house, falling asleep and waking up in his arms. I look forward to it all week, and I wish I didn’t.
I wish this was still about sex for me, because that’s easy. If it was just sex, I wouldn’t wish that we could go on dates, or be seen together outside the classroom. I wouldn’t hate so much that this was secret.
From his office, I go to the departmental mailroom. Another professor’s left a last-minute reading printout in a box there, and even though she said it was optional, I want to do it.
Standing there, checking her mail, is Professor Calvino. She teaches Greek, and she’s somehow both motherly and no-nonsense, her spiral-curl gray hair sticking out in every direction, so different from her daily uniform of sharp slacks and blazers.
When I stand, she’s looking at me.
“Melody,” she says.
“Hi, Professor Calvino,” I say, my reading in my hands, my heart starting to thump.
Please don’t let me smell like dirty sex. Please, please, please.
“I’ve noticed you’re spending a lot of time with Professor Sharpe lately,” she says, adjusting her half-moon glasses on her face.
My heart pretty much stops.
“I don’t like to plant ideas, but if anything untoward happens, please let the department know,” she goes on.
My blood is rushing through my ears, and I think I’m starting to sweat from sheer nerves.
“Untoward how?” I squeak out.
She glances at the door quickly, as if she’s making sure that we’re alone.
“If he makes a pass at you or anything,” she says, keeping her voice low.
She knows, I think. Oh my God, she knows.
“Have you heard something?” I manage to ask.
Professor Calvino sighs. She looks at the door again, then takes one step closer to me.
“There was an incident once,” she says, her voice confidential. “I don’t like to go into detail, but Professor Sharpe had a relationship of a sexual nature with an undergraduate.”
I stare at her, mouth open. All I can think is, I thought I was special.
“Frankly, I didn’t think we should hire someone with that kind of track record, but I was outvoted,” she goes on quietly. “In my experience, when someone abuses their power once, they tend to do it again, so we’ve been trying to keep an eye on his female students and make sure they’re okay.”
My face is ten shades of red, I can tell, and I’m just staring at Professor Calvino, open-mouthed.
“Has something happened?” she asks mildly.
I shake my head no, even as I’m thinking, wildly, yes, something has happened, a lot of somethings have happened.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” I say, willing my voice not to shake. “He’s been very professional with me.”
She nods once, curtly.
“Good,” she says. “I’m glad to hear it. Take care, Melody.”
She walks from the room, leaving me standing there, open-mouthed.
I start crying the second I leave the Classics Department, but it’s horrifically cold, windy day so I wrap my scarf around my face and pretend it’s the wind making my eyes water. I skip my last class of the day and go home, dramatically throwing myself on my bed.
The bed where we fucked the night I got back.
The bed where we slept. Together.
I feel like an idiot, like I’m stupid child that Professor Sharpe used for sex and planned to throw away. I can’t stop thinking about Professor Calvino saying they tend to do it again.
I’m not the first. I’m probably not the second. How many have there been? Is there a new one every semester? Does he just pick a girl from his class and fuck her until he gets bored?
When is he going to get bored of me?
I cry on my bed for a long time, the horrible thoughts swirling around in my brain. I don’t even know why I’m so upset, because isn’t this what I thought I wanted?
For us to be nothing more than a sexual fling?
But it’s not. I’ve been lying to myself about what this is, because even though there is sex — a lot of sex, really good sex — it’s more than that.
To me, at least.
It’s a long time before I finally get off my bed, but I know what I have to do.
I have to confront him.
Chapter 24
Professor Sharpe