The Lecturer

My office is at the end of a long, narrow hall. I’m a new faculty member, so I was assigned the smallest, mustiest office in the back of the building. It’s stacked sky-high with books, misplaced papers, and a too-small oak desk. I like the privacy of being tucked away in the very back. No one can hear me when I’m back here. And I can’t hear anyone else.

Your footsteps reverberate through the hall as you approach my office door. We have an appointment to discuss your most recent essay. And for some reason, I’ve been nervous about this meeting since you set it up with me last week. It’s probably because I catch you looking at me during class all the time. Your eyes stand out in the sea of students, piercing mine, looking me up and down like I’m nothing more than a hot piece of ass to be admired. And I do the same to you. When I think about you my heart starts to beat so quickly. My palms get a little sweaty, and I...I’ve never felt this way about a student before.

You stand in the doorway of my office and your smile sends a cold chill straight down my spine, followed by a warm rush of heat to my abdomen. My eyes trail up and down your body slowly, taking in the sight of you. I love the shape of your legs, your hips. Your breasts are so soft. You are exactly my type of woman.

“Come in,”

I tell you, my voice wavering a little.

You seem confident, like you know just how flustered you make me. And you enjoy doing it. As you sit down in the squeaky leather office chair across from my desk, you cross your legs and in the process give me a full view of your black lace panties beneath your skirt. Did you mean to do that? You look me deep in the eyes and ask what I thought of your work.

I try and focus on the task at hand, but your thighs are distracting.

“I thought you did really well,”

I say.

“But there’s always room for improvement.”

You lean forward and rest your forearms on the desk. Our faces are only inches apart now. I know this is wrong. You’re my student. I’m your professor. We shouldn’t be doing this. But the way you’re looking at me...you slowly close the gap between us, so slowly that I question if it’s even happening at all. Your lips hover near mine. I lean forward just slightly. You press your lips up against mine and I lean forward to meet the wet embrace. Oh god, you taste so good. This is the first time we’ve ever been alone together. And we barely lasted five minutes before acknowledging our desire for each other. I stand up from my chair and slowly make my way around the desk to where you’re sitting.

I lower myself down to my knees in front of you, a question in my eyes. Should we do this? Will we regret this? You pull your skirt upwards and gently pull your panties downward. I look up at you as I slowly pull the panties down your legs and toss them aside. You are so fucking hot. I can’t believe I’m here on my knees in front of you. This is so wrong, but I can’t stop myself down. I lean forward and press my face close to your warm interior. Your chest is heaving as I press my nose between the lips of your labia. I use my thumb to gently play with your clit, circling around it with a soft touch. You lean back in the chair and gasp up at the ceiling. I slip my tongue inside of you and lick up all of the wetness leaking out from between your legs.

God, you taste so good. I draw tight little circles around your clit with my thumb and your body tenses up. You go rigid, gripping the armrests of your chair. I can tell how much you like my touch. You are so fucking wet. I push my tongue in even further, penetrating you with it. I can feel your inner walls clenching around the tip of my tongue. Your soft mewls of pleasure tell me just how much you like this. I lift my free hand up to your breast. I palm it gently, squeezing and kneading it. Then, I pull your shirt away. You aren’t wearing a bra. I take your nipple between my thumb and forefinger and tweak it. Your nipples must be so sensitive. Your entire body jerks and writhes with pleasure as I twist your nipple between my fingers.

I lift my head up and extract my tongue from inside of you. I push my index and middle finger between your labia and pulse them in and out of you. Over and over again. I fuck you, fingering you as deeply as I possibly can. You can feel the entire length of my fingers sliding in and out of you with ease. Can you feel me? Can you feel me inside of you? Can you feel me spreading you apart, penetrating you with two–now three–fingers? You tangle your fingers in my hair and beg me not to stop. I swing my legs over each of your thighs and straddle you with my full weight. My fingers keep pumping in out of you, fucking you with the need and desperation built up throughout this entire semester. You feel a warm rush of pleasure overtake your entire body as I focus all of my attention on your sensitive clit. You whine loudly, squirming around in the chair. Thank god my office is so isolated. You tell me you’re going to cum. You tell me can’t stand it anymore.

I press my fingers up against that warm velvet-like g-spot behind your clit and your entire body jerks forward involuntarily. Your wetness leaks out of you and all over my hand as you let out an animalistic groan up against my neck. An orgasm rips through you and your body goes taut like a drawn bowstring. Finally, you relax against me, your warm breath tickling my neck. You ask if we can meet again next week.

“Yes,”

I murmur back.

“To discuss your next...assignment.”

I press our lips together once more.

“You can count on it.”