Chapter Six
Lizbeth
I almost fucked my professor…I thought as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, remembering the feeling of his strong, skilled tongue moving across my pussy lips, probing inside of my wet hole and then moving up to my clit to deliver the slam dunk that sent me over the edge.
Hey, even if we hadn’t fucked, I had still come all over his tongue…
I was still aching for him as I lay there, every nerve in my body on fire for his touch as I thought back to what had happened back in his office. Aside from the fact that he was my professor, I still couldn’t believe it. He’d picked me out of an entire lecture hall. He’d come at me back at the bar, and I was never the one that guys went after. It was always one of my friends that got all the attention, but now I had the most drop-dead gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on taking me by the hand and pulling me back to his office to have his way with me.
Did I die and go to heaven?
What we’d done was completely inappropriate. I mean—it was bad enough that I’d hooked up with someone in one of the offices, but when that someone was my anatomy professor? Well, that was breaking every rule on the book. Teachers got fired for this kind of thing all the time. I didn’t know if there would be any consequences for me. But what I did know was that I didn’t care.
The power he had over me was impossible to describe. It was like he read my mind. He’d canceled fucking class for me! Then like a hunter claiming his prey, he took me back to his office and had his way with me.
I let out a soft moan as I resituated myself in bed and slid my hand down my panties and began to play with myself, trying to replay with my fingers exactly what he’d done to me. Goosebumps appeared all over my body as my fingers found my spot. I was dripping wet simply with the thought of him.
That jaw.
Those eyes.
That tongue.
I pulled the blankets over my face and groaned as I spread my legs and ran two fingers across my wet little clit, trying my best to mimic the movements his tongue had made when he’d been coaxing me towards orgasm. I couldn’t even come close to the sensations he’d given me—the mind-blowing ecstasy that had me shaking on his desk and begging for more.
His cock was right there…
Closing my eyes, I could still feel the weight of it against my lips. It was like a club. Its size actually terrified me as I tried to imagine how it would feel to be stretched around it. I’d only had two fingers in me before and they were my two fingers, and that was nothing compared to the girth he was packing with that monster.
I wanted to come. But for some reason, lying there in my bed and using the image of Professor Grey to get myself off felt wrong. It felt…it felt like cheating somehow. I didn’t want my fantasy of him fucking me to get me off; I wanted him really fucking me to get me off, and I knew that if I kept playing with myself, I wouldn’t be able to push that fantasy from my mind. So I did the hardest thing in the world.
I stopped.
“Fuck,” I groaned with a sigh.
Tuesday went by slower than a slug crossing the freeway. I tried burying myself in my homework from my other classes and got ahead on my reading, but every time I stopped or took a breath, he was back in my mind. I was more excited to see him than any student should ever have been to see their teacher. We shared a secret together; a naughty little secret that we were going to share for a second time. So when it was time for anatomy again, I was out the door—and straight into another torrential downpour.
“Shit!” I cursed as I pulled my hood up over my head to at least try and save my hair from being completely ruined. I couldn’t remember whether Mythbusters said you got more or less wet from running through the rain, so I just ran as fast as I could towards Hubbard Hall. I was almost there when a van rounded the corner and drove right through an enormous puddle.
Filthy water, mud and dirt swept over me like a tidal wave, completely drenching every piece of clothing I was wearing. I cried out as the shock of the cold water hit me like a punch to the stomach.
“Ewwww!” I shouted as other students raced past me on the way to class. A frat guy with an ironically pink umbrella turned and laughed.
“Ooooh, somebody’s wet!”
Perfect…
I’d waited forty-eight hours to see him and now I was going to show up looking like a wet hamster. I trudged on to Hubbard Hall, on the verge of tears, and quickly found the women’s restroom. Everything was ruined.
My hair was matted down like wet straw, my make-up was running, my clothes were completely drenched. It was a nightmare.
He can’t see me like this! I thought as I fought to fix myself up the best I could, drying my hair with the hand dryer, wiping at the runs of eyeliner dripping down my cheek. There was really nothing I could do about my clothes, so I did the best I could with some paper towels to dry myself off, but even then, when I tugged open the door to the lecture hall, I felt like I’d let him down.
He looked up as I came in. He was in the middle of his lecture, practically glowing in front of the rest of the students, dripping in pure, raw sexuality that I could feel tugging at me as I stared at him. For a second, I feared what his reaction would be when he saw what an absolute mess I was, but my heart bloomed as he smiled a knowing smile to me as though all of this—the class, the school, the lecture—was nothing compared to what we’d shared.
Our little secret.
“Mnemonics can be a useful tool in remembering the various parts of the body,” he lectured. “For instance, to remember the bones in the hand—some lovers try positions they can’t handle.”