Getting Kinky with Joanna

You look out the window as the plane takes off, leaving home and your fiance behind. In a few hours you'll be where I am, at the conference on the west coast. You first really big conference. Your first time giving a panel paper before such an influential crowd. And your first weekend away with me. Of course, there will be the panels, the networking, the papers, the debate, but that's not what's on your mind the most as the plane gains altitude and the pilot goes through the usual announcements. No. What's on your mind most is me, my strong arms, my soft lips, my tight ass, my cock. It's been that way most of the semester now, since the second week of the graduate seminar, when things between us really took off. You look around as the nervousness builds. Across the aisle is a lovely blonde. Statuesque, with shapely legs. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face that's not quite delicate. She makes eye contact and smiles. You can't help but smile as you notice how blue her eyes are . . . Then the announcements come. You half listen, and then you close your eyes and revisit those early weeks.

You're waiting at my office, wearing the same thing you'd been wearing at the reception where we met. It was after I came back from my research trip, while you were chatting with your advisor. I saw the looks you were giving him, and i could see him glancing down at your legs when he thought you wouldn't notice. I walked up and said hello to him, and he introduced us. You hadn't expected me to look so young. My colleagues were all in their fifties or sixties, but I was only forty, and looked younger. It must have been the earrings and the stylish clothes. You gulped down some of your wine and muttered an awkward hello, a handshake. I smiled, and my eyes darted down your body involuntarily.

How could they not? There you were, with your brown hair parted in the middle and pulled behind your ears, dangling straight down over your shoulders. Your olive skin glowed, and your brown eyes sparkled. A shy grin. Your neckline plunged, revealing a bit too much cleavage for a departmental reception, and your too-short skirt framed rather than conceal your sculpted legs. My heart started racing as you talked wit your advisor. Something about your thesis. Slowly I recovered from the shock of meeting you, and managed to tune into what you were saying. My brain clicked in. No, you weren't just the departmental looker. You had things to say, interesting things. I listened attentively, although never quite getting your lovely legs out of my mind ...

"William, Jonathon, time to take our speaker out to dinner," the department chair said as he butted in. "I see you've met Joanna, one of our new graduate students," he said to me. "She's been wowing the rest of us while you've been away on that sabbatical of yours."

"Well, I have no doubt," I answered, and then turning to look directly into your eyes, "She seems impressive on many levels." A quick glance at your legs, too quick for the others to notice, and a good-bye.

You stood there with your heart pounding. You'd always felt some sexual tension with your advisor, but nothing like what just happened with me. We had clicked. We had flirted. And your pussy was wet. On the way home, you hiked up your skirt to caress your pussy lips through your moist black cotton panties, and when you got home, you jumped your boyfriend and fucked him hard. His cock tore into you as you rode him, panting, moaning, thinking of me. At the memory of my voice, you came.

The next semester you were sure to sign up for my seminar, and to always sit close to me. You chose what you wore quite carefully the days of my class. Always something a bit revealing, verging on inappropriate. Always something that showed some cleavage, and that put your legs on display. And you prepared intensely for each class meeting, reading long and hard to make sure you had good things to say.

I was captivated with you from the start. Here was this sexy brunette in her second semester of graduate school, holding her own against the more advanced students. And I loved the way you would smile when I came in the room, the way you always made eye contact with every remark. I worked harder too, wanting to be your most brilliant, most erudite, most challenging professor. I hardly thought about the others as I read more than I would have otherwise, as I pushed my ideas farther. I loved it when you and I debated, as if the others were not there. We would continue our conversations in the hall, then in my office. We started to IM, and let our IM conversations drift to more personal topics. How I loved it when I saw your screenname pop up late at night, when my wife was asleep and I was up working. How you'd love it when you heard the chime of an IM from me, telling you it was time to put your books aside and chat with me. Discuss ideas. Flirt.

I loved having you in my office, where I could let slip inappropriate remarks, and sit a little closer than I should, to test the waters.

"Wonderful work today, Joanna. I'm really impressed with how your thinking about the rhetoric of desire is helping us unlock this play. Your remarks today taught me a lot," I told you, sitting close. Then I gulped quickly and added, "And those bright brown eyes of yours really lit up my day."

You smile, and pause, as your heart skips a beat. "Well, I think they always sparkle a bit brighter in that class," you add. Our eyes linger on each other, and we smile, then you get up. An awkward goodbye, you lean over to get your bag, and you head out the door.

"Will you be at the departmental party this weekend? We're celebrating the publication of Jonathon's new book, you know," I blurt out.

Your heart is racing, but you manage to mutter out, "Of course I'll be there. Wouldn't want to neglect Jonathon ... Or miss seeing you."

You walk out the door, and I can't help but collapse into my chair, and feel my cock, semi-hard, through my clothes. You walk down the hall, your heart pounding and your panties moist. Straight to the restroom, the one no one uses much on the fourth floor. There you slip into stall, drop on the seat and immediately hike up your skirt. You can't help but rub your pussy lips through the lace of your black panties as you go through the afternoon. No, we weren't debating today, we were fucking. Brain-fucking. Our ideas moved in and out of each other like sweaty bodies. They met and kissed, but sometimes wrestled. In the end we'd brought our approaches together in an act of mutual penetration that had left your pussy wet and your panties moist. When I'd flirted with you at the end, so boldly, you knew you'd have to get off as soon as our meeting ended. And there you were, masturbating as quietly as you could. Your panties pulled aside now, your fingers exploring the depths of your cunt.

Little did you know I had locked the door to my office, and closed the blind. I had put a condom on. I always had them at the ready, so I could get off in my office without making a mess. Our time together that afternoon had left me so fucking horny, so hot for you. I couldn't believe the words that had escaped my mouth at the end of our meeting, but I knew they had been inevitable. Every word I'd said to you that day - no, for many days now - had been a dart that I had thrown at you, hoping it would penetrate you and fuck you. As I pictured you in your short skirt and your tight sweater, my cock quickly hardened the rest of the way. I mumbled your name as I remembered the glimpse of your black lacy panties that I'd gotten as you'd bent over to get your bag. How I'd wanted to lick you through them, to find out if they were wet.

I could feel my orgasm growing within me. You could feel the tension taking over your body. I stroked harder, squeezing tightly, imagining your cunt wrapped around it. You fingered yourself more deeply, imagining me penetrating you. I so wanted to feel your wet panties sliding against my thick cock as I fucked you from behind. I so wanted to send you home to your boyfriend with my jizz leaking out of your pussy. You so wanted me to bend you over that desk and fuck you like a whore. You so wanted to feel my cock erupting inside you. There, I could feel it. My cum welling up, the point of no return. There it was, the edge of orgasm, and you about to fall over it. Once, twice, again, and again, my cock squirts into the condom as I grip the edge of the desk and bite my lip. You feel your juices squirt into your panties as you let an audible moan escape. Panting now, in my office. Panting, now, in the restroom.

I run into you in the hall on the way to the restroom myself. I hope my face doesn't look red, or my clothes dishevelled. You smooth your skirt down, and become very conscious of how your wet panties are now clinging to your mound.We exchange pleasantries. Do you smell a bit of sex? No, it can't be . . . But it's enough to start getting me hard again. I feel my cock shift, the condom still on, but full of my cum now. You wonder if that was a bulge you'd seen in my pants . . . No, it couldn't have been. You hope I don't notice the aroma exuding from between your legs. I put my fingertips on your upper arm, and lean in for a quick kiss on the cheek, the kind that Latins like me always give their friends. Then I pull away, wondering if that was too much, but you smile at me. We walk off. I can't resist turning around to get one last glimpse of your sweet little ass swaying in that skirt. You turn around as well, catch my eyes, blush, and grin.

Now, you are at my office for one of our meetings before the seminar. It was early, and you'd seen your boyfriend off with a kiss that morning, then hurried back upstairs to change into something a bit sluttier. You knew I liked you that way, ready to be my whore. It had been a couple of weeks now since we'd first fucked in my car outside the library. You still remember how hard I came down your throat that night. In fact, you thought about it all the time. You thought about how I had fucked your face and fingered your cunt. You thought about how I'd taken your cunt the next day. You thought about how you'd given me your virgin ass. God, the guilt you'd felt when you came home that night, saying that you'd been at the library, all the while feeling my cum leak out of your well-stretched asshole into your panties. But you'd come back to me nonetheless because you had no choice. Since you were a young girl you'd dreamed of this, of an older man, a teacher, using you like a whore. And now you were my whore to use as I liked.

I open the door and let you in, wordlessly. Quickly, I check to see who's around, and I shut and lock it. You've strolled across the room and rested your sweet ass against the desk, smiling at me. I smile back, and you know I'm fighting to keep from charging you, pushing you back onto the desk, ripping your panties off and fucking you quick and hard. You know I crave you, as you crave me. And I know how we both love that craving.

"God, Joanna, you look as hot as always," I mutter, my cock visibly bulging in my trousers. I stroll towards you, and caress your cheek and neck. "Want to show me what panties you wore for me today?"

You grin cheekily, knowing I would ask that, knowing how much I love to see you in lingerie, to fuck you while you're wearing it. You pull up your skirt, exposing yourself in a pink lacy bikini cuts. So girly and frilly. I touch your pussy through them, feelig how wet you already are for me.

"They're perfect, baby, perfect for fucking you," I whisper, as I bring my lips to yours. We kiss softly as I play with your cunt through the panties, searching out your hardening clit. You reach down and feel my hard dick through my clothes, that dick that you've gotten to know so well in the weeks that we've been fucking. You undo my pants and let them drop, along with my boxers, then you go down on your knees.

My cock is rock hard, the way only you can get it. It's leaking precum already, and you lick it up greedily before you start to kiss my head and lick my shaft. Your other hand wanders between your legs, eager to find yoru wetness.

"Yes, baby, play with that sweet cunt," I tell you. You know how much I love watching you masturbate as I face-fuck you. You slip your hand inside the panties and slide yoru fingers along your wet slit as you start to take my length into your mouth. Your clit feels hard between your fingers, and you start to rub it. You moan a bit, but muffle yourself with my cock. Working it now, taking the length.

"Slip your fingers into your cunt, my whore. Fuck yourself for me," I command, and you obey. Two fingers at first, even though you're a bit too to tight for that. I grab your hair and thrust my cock into your mouth and throat as you slide them in deep, deeper with every thrust. You know I'm going to fuck you until we cum. You know I never let you to go my seminar without cumming inside you first, and getting you to soak your panties for me. We build slowly, struggling to be quiet as we hear voices in the hall. I clutch your hair and thrust. YOu feel your tension build, and then release. A gush of cream squirting into your hand, and into your panties. My cock erupting in your mouth. Streams of cum shooting inside you, down your throat.

You stand and wrap your arms around me, so we can suppress our panting with our lips, and so we can share my cum. We always do, whenever we can. We feed each other our juices, pass them to each other's mouths. You bring your fingers to our faces, so we can feast on your cunt cream. I never teach my class without cumming inside you first, or without swallowing your cream. The nectar of our lust. How could we ever slack our thirst for it?

As you start to put yourself together, I tell you to wait. "I have a surprise for you today, Joanna. Take your panties off for me."

You grin, wondering what kinky designs I have for us, and hand me the panties, soaked in pussy juice. I pull you close to me so that we can lick them and taste them together. Before me, you'd never sucked on your panties. Now you can't imagine going without. Am i going to keep them in my drawer? Take them home? Yes, in a way. I pull away from you slightly and slide them on. They're tight, and they feel so good because of it. You step back to take me in. A grown man, an older man, a professor at a prestigious university, your professor, wearing your pink, lacy girly panties, soaked in your cum. My semi-hard cock is encased in the lace. You know if I were to get hard, it would just pop right on out.

"On your knees, my slut," I command, and you obey. I approach you, offering my cock to you in the lacey panties that you've just taken off. You feel the draft move across your wet, naked cunt, and bring your fingertips to me. You can see my cock through the lace front panel, and you run your fingertips along the shaft. The panties are so wet, they cling to me. I watch you mesmerized, seeing how eager you are to take my cock out and suck me. I know your pussy lips are swelling and your clit is hardening . . . You bring your mouth to me and kiss my cock through the panties, all the while caressing my balls through the lace. They're big and heavy with cum for you. Your mouth traces the line of my shaft, kissing lightly. Your breath penetrates the lace, teasing my swollen head. I grasp your long brown hair and pull your face away, turning you to look up at me.

Gazing into your eyes I ask you, "You dare me to teach with these on?" I know what the answer will be.

"God that would be so hot!" you gasp, clutching my cock and balls through the lace.

"I have something for you to wear as well, then," I add. I help you up and I lead you to my reading chair, and have you bend over. Soon, I'm peeling your ass cheeks apart, licking my way down your crack to your puckered hole. It always gets you so hot when I do this, knowing that I'm taking you in such a slutty yet intimate way, in a way that no one else has had you. My tongue circles your asshole, then penetrates it, as my fingers caress your pussy again. You feel the wetness growing, your lust mounting. And then you feel something else. Not my finger.

"Oh my god," you think, "it's a plug. He's going to make me wear a buttplug to class!" You push back, enraptured by the dirtiness of it all, eager to be the slut I want you to be. It slides in, and you feel your asshole clench around the base. I pull you up by your hair.

My cock is rock hard again, peeking out of your panties. You're in front of me, with no panties, a wet cunt and a plug inside you. I dress, and put my jacket on to hide my erection, and say to you, "Time for class."

You try to catch your breath as you walk to the seminar room. You linger along the way. We never arrive together, and this time you want to let me arrive first. You watch me walk down the hall, knowing that your lacy panties are hugging my ass, that the soaked gusset is pressing my balls against me. In a bit, you head that way yourself, the plug firmly lodged in your ass and your pussy juices leaking out of your cunt.

The class is a whirl. The discussion moves along, and you manage to participate, all the while aware of the puddle forming between your legs. Every time you shift in the seat you feel the buttplug wiggle inside you, sending shockwaves to your cunt.

"Joanna," I say to you, in my professor voice, "tell us about fetishism and its pertinence to this scene."

You gulp and compose yourself, "Fetishism is the projection onto an inanimate object of qualities usually associated with a person, a god, or some such entity. Here, the main character, receives an item of his beloved's clothing from the go-between, and idolizes it."

"He idolizes it? Why, precisely?" I watch you intently. You look so damn smart in those glasses, with your brown hair hanging alongside your face. My cock has been partially hard since the office. Your little lacey panties barely contain it. Now I feel it grow and thicken. As it shifts positions, it rubs against the lace, and I feel my breath quicken slightly.

"It's an intimate object, something that's been in constant contact with her body, her hips, her thighs. For him, it not only represents her, it makes her present. It is her, in a sense. That's why he fondles it and praises it. And goes to bed with it." The last words come out a bit too breathily, and the others look over quizically. I take advantage of their distraction to drop my hand into my lap. You can tell I'm caressing your panties, and my cock, through my pants. Briefly, but indubitably.

"Excellent, Joanna," I smile, my cock nice and hard now. I become acutely aware of the dampness of your panties against my balls. I move the conversation on.

After a while, I address you again. "Joanna, we haven't heard from you in a while. Perhaps you could enlighten us about the discourse of sodomy in this episode."

You collect yourself to speak. You've only been halfway listening, distracted as you are by the sensations in your ass and cunt, and the image of me in your panties. You gather your mind around the question, and grin slightly. As you answer, you shift in your seat a bit, feeling the buttplug wiggle. I recognize what you're doing, and know you're fucking yourself for me as you answer my question.

"It's not entirely clear, but the young servant, may very well be the receptive partner in a homosexual relationship. A bottom, as we would say today," you say.

"A bottom indeed. Yes, everyone, the early modern period was well acquainted with anal sex. It was condemned, reviled, but all the condemnations only tell us that people were doing it. Were they enjoying it? Well, I suppose if they weren't, there would have been no need to condemn it." Everyone laughs at my quip. You grin and wiggle in your seat as I watch out of the corner of my eye.