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12

~ Disclaimer: This story is purely fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author retains the copyright to this original work, and it may not be reproduced without the author's permission. Insert various and sundry legal jargon here. Please vote. Thanks! ;) ~

Walking up the stairs to your office, I am stifled by the heat. There are flies buzzing in the stairwell, and I marvel at the idea that university professors are forced to work under these conditions. After all your hard work, this is your reward. Breathing heavily, I finally make my way to the fourth floor. My cheeks are flushed, my body tingling from the long, hot climb. I feel the butterflies in my stomach as I turn the corner, preparing to walk down the hallway and into your office.

The old, musty building is dimly lit, and the doors I walk past on both sides are closed. It's 5:30 on a Friday afternoon, and there is no one else here; you are the only professor who stayed late today, to help me with my dissertation. I walk halfway down the hall, and stop just before reaching your door. It is open, and I want a moment to collect myself before stepping into your sight.

I round the corner, and you are already looking up expectantly...you must have heard me out in the hall. You smile at me, and clear the paperwork off a chair to offer me a seat, ever the gentleman. I sit, and we begin to talk of trivial things. You tell me about the projects your other classes are doing, we discuss the current events that seem important in the small scope of the college campus...as you speak, I keep up with your conversation, return your witty comments one for another, but I am focused on your smile, and your hands. They are those of a pianist, soft and smooth, large, but graceful. I imagine what those hands could do to me, what they would feel like moving over my soft skin, but I continually tear away my gaze to meet your eyes, hoping that you can't see any evidence of the effect you have on me.

We eventually turn the conversation around to my project, the portrayal of prostitution in modern media. I talk about the subject matter in purely scholastic terms, never quite meeting your gaze because when I do I feel naked, utterly exposed. I cannot control my arousal, I feel so vulnerable near you, and I am always fearful that you can see my feelings, that you know what you do to me, and I don't want things to be awkward between us. Not only because you are my professor, but also because I consider you a friend, a wise and witty confidant, and I always want to impress you.

You make a comment about the nature of sexual tension between men and women, but I am hardly listening. I am busy looking at your chest, wondering what you look like under the olive green tee shirt you are wearing. I note the freckles on your strong arms, a very light brown, which complement your pale Irish complexion, and I wonder where they end, as I follow them up under your sleeves. Suddenly I realize that you have stopped talking, and you are looking at me with a mischievous smile on your face.

I blush instantly, and look away, feeling once more naked and vulnerable, held in your gaze. I cannot meet your eyes, knowing that you will see too much there, but I feel as if I am revealing just as much by looking away. You move to get up, and I do not raise my eyes to your face, but feel transfixed to my seat, unsure of what to do next. You cross in front of me in the cramped office, no larger than a jail cell, and you close the door softly. My eyes are level with your belt, but I am too shy to lower them a few inches more to confirm my suspicions. You hold out one of those masculine, soft hands to me, and I look up, unsure of what you're asking for. You have the same smile on your face, but now there is a different look in your eyes, one that tells me that the moment I have waited so long for may have finally arrived.

My head is spinning as I take your hand, my knees weak as I stand, and my thoughts are racing; I cannot believe I am this close to you, I did not realize how tall you were until now, standing inches away from you. I feel overpowered by you, your broad shoulders, your height, your manly scent, like leather and wool, and while my first instinct is to back away, I resist. You move slightly closer to me, and I do back away out of reflex, but after only one step I come up against the wall. You stop, and I finally have the courage to look into your eyes. Your crystal blue eyes which have held me captive on so many occasions.

You take off your glasses, and it is the first time I have seen you without them. You look younger, but you are just as handsome without them as you were with them on. You toss them carelessly onto the desk with your free hand; the other is still holding mine, still holding me captive in this embrace of energy. We have yet to touch anywhere but with our hands, yet I feel as if I am caught in a swirling vortex of sensations. You put your free hand flat on the wall, and lean in slowly. I feel fire rushing up my spine as you breathe on my neck, blowing softly on my collarbone, not yet wanting to touch me, not wanting to waste this precious moment.

I can smell your masculinity, and part of me yearns to reach up and grab your hair, push your head in closer, pull your body to me until our hips collide so that I can feel your lust for me, but I am spellbound in this moment, unable to move and barely able to breathe. I close my eyes to cherish this, and senses intensify. I can feel your hand in mine, my back against the wall, your hot breath on my neck, as you turn your face to mine. I keep my eyes closed as your lips brush mine, quickly and gently, and I am amazed at the softness of your mouth. My lips are parted, eyes still closed, waiting for the moment of release when you kiss me, waiting to taste you. You can sense my impatience, but you are not willing to give in to me so quickly. We have all the time in the world, and you are not about to rush this moment.

I feel your hand in my hair, pulling out the tie that binds it, and my long, auburn waves cascade down over my shoulders, down to the middle of my back. You brush it off of my shoulder and neck, and your touch sends shivers down my spine, as we are lost in a brief cloud of warm, feminine aroma from my shampoo. Your fingertips trace the outline of my shoulder and down my arm, and though you are touching me ever so lightly, I feel the electricity between us coursing through my skin. I turn my face just slightly, so that my lips are just under your jaw, and I kiss your skin.

You inhale sharply, not expecting my sudden move, but you quickly regain control, and move aside the strap of my tank top and bra, to reveal a white shoulder. I feel your five o'clock stubble scratch my skin, as your soft lips press into it, and the contrast is delicious. I lift my hand and place it on the back of your neck, sliding my fingers under your collar, exploring just that little part of you that I never knew I'd get to touch.

Your lips travel from my shoulder to my neck, up under my ear, as your hand travels simultaneously up my body. I feel your hand cupping my breast, playing with it, exploring its softness and weight. I gasp as you pinch my nipple, your lips still near my ear. Your hand presses into my breast, and I finally give into the urge...I put my hands on your hips, and pull you close to me. As our pelvises meet, I can feel you, bulging against me, and it drives me crazy...I want you then and there, but I know you'll keep making me wait. You bite my neck softly to stifle a moan as I push myself into you, because neither of us knows who might be on the other side of the door.

Anxiously, I look to the open window – it has a view of a brick wall, no one can see in the small, dimly lit room, but it still feels deliciously risky to be so exposed. You move your mouth from my neck, across my cheek, and our lips meet for the first time. Your kiss is as smooth and luscious as I knew it would be...somehow, before all of this, I knew you would be a master of sensuality. Our mouths slightly open, the tips of our tongues dance around one another, tasting, exploring, as my hands begin fondling your belt buckle.

I undo your belt, and as I unzip your trousers, you slide a hand around to the small of my back, and pull me close. Our kiss becomes deeper as we embrace one another with all of our long-stifled emotion, your hand clutching my hair, mine reaching around to explore the ass that I have seen so many times from afar. Your trousers fall, revealing silken boxers that I think you must have worn knowing that I was coming today. Your skin feels so delicious under them, as I run my hands back and forth...I love the feeling of silk on skin, it's so smooth.

I run my hands from your buttocks, across your hips and around to the front, and I feel your body stiffen in response...but I'm not going there, not yet. I run my hands up your stomach, and to your chest, and you raise your arms so that I can lift off your shirt. As it falls to the floor, I get a good look at what I've been missing all this time. Though you are not chiseled, your body has a subtle strength which has not eroded with age. I look at you, and I see your eyes, for the first time looking slightly vulnerable, as if asking for my approval. I realize that you must be insecure as well..you are almost twice my age, you must feel that you have to live up to my expectations for the hard, young bodies of the college men – or should I say boys – that I'm used to. I smile softly, and kiss you again, because what you don't know is that while your body is a wonder, it is your mind that I find so fascinating, and that is what makes you so irresistible.

You wrap me in your arms once again, and I feel secure – not as vulnerable now, in your embrace, as I was moments ago, in your eyes. You reach under my shirt, lifting it over my head, to expose my full breasts, nipples straining against my 36DD bra. Your lips trace my collarbone, and you move down to kiss my chest, your hands cupping my breasts. You slip a hand around to unhook my bra, and as it falls to the floor, your tongue traces the pink circle around one of my nipples, while your fingertips play with the other. I am on fire now, and I open my eyes to look down at you as you nibble and suckle.

I undo your shoulder-length salt and pepper hair, as you did to mine, and it falls around to frame your face. God, I love men with long hair. I bury my hand in your hair, and pull your face into me. You moan softly, and bite my nipple, and I gasp with pleasure. One of your hands slides down between my legs, and up under the skirt I am wearing, and I know that you must be able to feel my heat and wetness already. You stand to kiss me again, and I reach down, taking your shaft in my hands for the first time. I can't grasp all of it, because the boxers are in the way, so I slide them off, to reveal a magnificent erection.

I wrap one hand around it, and begin to stroke your cock, which is as hard as your lips are soft, as they meet my mouth once more. Your hips begin to move slowly, in opposition to my strokes, until it's as if you're fucking my hand. Our mouths open a little wider, and your tongue begins to explore my mouth. I place one hand on the back of your head, and pull you in close to me. We stand like this for a moment, your hands on my bare breasts, my hand on your cock, stroking, as our tongues play around each other. I can't believe where I am right now, for a moment I wonder if it is a dream, then I decide I don't care, as you slide one hand around to the small of my back and pull me close.

I take my hand away, and our hips press together; I can feel the tip of your cock on my soft belly, as we embrace once more. I break our passionate kiss, to slide my lips down, over your cheek, to your neck. I linger there for a moment, suckling, nibbling, grasping your ass and pulling your hips into mine. I move down to your chest, giving your nipples the same treatment you gave mine, and occasionally a nip. You gasp when I bite you – not too loudly, we're still not sure if we're alone – and bury your hand in my hair again. I move down, my tongue tracing over your stomach, and you lean back slightly, against your desk, knowing what is next. I kneel down, taking your shaft in my hand, and stroke the backs of your legs with my free hand, as my mouth explores your hips and thighs.

I know what you are waiting for, but I am in no hurry. The hand on your shaft moves down to cup those two sensitive organs, and I am once again amazed at the softness of your skin. My fingers roll them around inside their sac as my tongue traces the length of your penis. I look up, and see that your head is thrown back, your hands supporting your weight on the desk, and you are lost in the sensations that are coursing through your body. I wrap my hand around your erection, a little tighter this time, and take your balls into my mouth, first one, then the other.

You moan with pleasure, no longer caring who might hear us, as the wet heat of my mouth engulfs you, while my hand massages your cock; my free hand is still tracing lines up and down your legs, tickling the sensitive spot at the back of your knees. I begin teasing your cock again with my lips and tongue; I take just the tip into my mouth, and taste the salty sweetness of the drop of pearl that has collected at the end. A shudder runs through your body as I take the length of it into my mouth; I wonder if you suspected that I enjoyed deep-throating.

Had you fantasized about this moment? Did it play through in your mind, as it had in mine? Did your eyes undress me as I sat in your class, patently transfixed on my fantasies? As my tongue swirls around the tip of your penis, and I taste the droplets that are oozing out of the silken slit there, you bury a hand in my hair and make a fist, and the mild pain, mixed with my arousal, makes me moan. The vibrations of my voice make your penis jump in my mouth, and I feel it get even harder. You push on the back of my head, forcing me to take your full length in my mouth once again, as I dig my nails into your ass. I fondle your balls again as your cock stretches my throat, and I can feel myself almost dripping with lust. I need you, and it has to be soon.

I stand up, and you grab me, pulling me against you roughly for a deep, hungry kiss. We switch places, me leaning up against the desk, as you reach down to dexterously unbutton my denim skirt. As you expose the lacy underwear I never expected you to see, I feel vulnerable once again in the face of your obvious experience. This is what scared me, what kept me from making advances to begin with; I was afraid that I wouldn't live up to your expectations, that I wouldn't be as good as the other women you've had. Those fears melt away as you kneel, peeling away my panties with a slowness that tells me you are savoring this moment. I lift one leg and place my foot on a nearby chair, putting most of my weight on the desk, as you kiss my stomach and the insides of my thighs.

I feel your soft lips on my skin, as your stubble scratches me, and once again the contrast sends shivers through me. You move your lips closer to where you know I want them to be, and I try to move my hips to guide you, but you evade me still. You nip the insides of my thighs, and I gasp, for a moment too taken aback to move at all. As I am still recovering, I feel your mouth and tongue finally touching the smooth silk of my most vulnerable place. Your tongue spreads my labia to find my sensitive node, and your lips begin to caress and cajole me, sending sparks of white hot fire straight to my core. I feel the tingling and fluttering in my loins that tells me I'm almost there, but not yet, I won't allow myself to...and that's when you plunge three fingers inside of me.

I come almost instantly, my already-tight opening contracting around your fingers, as your tongue does its work on my hardened clit. I grip the side of the desk and bite my lip as the orgasm washes over me, trying hard not to make any sound other than my ragged breathing. You begin moving your fingers inside of me, bending them in a come-hither motion, and another orgasm crashes into my core. I raise my legs and place my feet on your shoulders; I am now sitting on the desk, trembling, and thanking God yet again for the gift of multiple orgasms which has been given to me. You reach up with your free hand, the one not buried inside of my hot honeypot, and pinch my erect nipples, twisting and turning, looking over my mound, with your smiling, crystal blue eyes, to watch the waves of pleasure engulf me.

You realize that my clit is becoming too sensitive, and you know what we both want anyway, so with a final flick of your tongue, you stand up. You lean forward to kiss me, and I can taste my ancient musk on your lips, and it makes me want you even more urgently. You take your throbbing member in one hand, and slide it up and down my wet slit, mixing your drops of pearl with my juices. The sensation is almost more than I can stand on my already-sensitive node, and I press toward you, begging you for what I need. You nudge the tip of your penis between my waiting lips, and slide it in, slowly but firmly.

Once your full length is buried inside me, you pause, and I can tell you're trying hard not to come yet. You break our kiss, sliding your lips over my face and neck, and hugging me close. Slowly, you begin to move ever so slightly, swirling your hardness in small circles inside of me. God, you are so tight, are the first words you have spoken during our encounter, whispered in my ear. I smile with satisfaction, hearing the hoarseness of your voice, knowing that I am making it very difficult for you not to come. Having already come myself, several times, I am more in control of myself now, and don't feel such an urgent need. I enjoy taking charge of our encounter, and I begin flexing my vaginal muscles to milk your already-throbbing phallus.

You groan in my ear, and your hot breath makes me clamp down even tighter; you can't take any more, and you begin sliding in and out faster and more forcefully. Despite the abundance of lubrication, I am so tight that we can both feel every move, as you slam yourself home again and again. I can feel the tip of your penis against the top wall of my womb, as you grind your hips into mine, and this sensation, of being completely fulfilled, is almost more than I can take. Just as I am about to come, I feel your shoulders tense, and know that you are almost there. I reach up and grab a fistful of your hair, biting your shoulder to keep from crying out as my most intense orgasm yet locks every muscle in my body. You grunt and throw your head back, and as your muscles clench, I can feel the hot streams in my pussy as you come inside of me. Your thrusting becomes less rhythmic, and with each push another spurt of come lands deep inside of me.

Finally, your breathing, though heavy, returns to normal, and your body relaxes. I stop biting your shoulder as the strength of my orgasm subsides, but I keep one hand in your hair, and you bury your face in my neck; we stay like that for who knows how long, in each other's arms, with you still inside of me. Finally, perhaps realizing that I am not in the most comfortable position, you ease out of me, and a gush of our mixed juices flows out as you recede. We both get dressed, not saying a word, and you wipe the evidence off the desk with a spare napkin.

Fully dressed, I turn to face you, feeling a little embarrassed; you see the question in my eyes, though, and pull me close once more, reassuring me that our relationship has not changed because of this long-anticipated encounter. I relax, knowing that our mutual respect and affection, not just as teacher and student, but as friends, has not been lost in our transformation into lovers, and I hug you back, and kiss your lips gently.

12
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