by Parker Grey
“That’s a complicated question,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against a blank spot on the chalkboard. “I’m afraid I’m one of the tougher advisors in the department, and I demand more of my advisees than most.”
God, just the way he says it makes heat flow down through my body as I think about the things he could demand from me — that I lie back on the desk, spread my legs, say his name...
“That’s okay,” I squeak out.
“Other professors will be easier,” he warns me. “If I’m your advisor, I’ll ride you hard.”
I swear I can almost see the outline of his cock through his well-fitting gray pants, but I force myself to look at his face, not the monster down below.
And make no mistake: it’s a monster, but I already knew that. I’ve been staring at it in awe for most of a semester, and I’ve got no problem with Professor Sharpe riding me hard.
Or me riding him. All I have to do is take my panties off and he could take me right here in this classroom...
“That’s fine,” I say. “I’m up to it.”
He lifts his briefcase to his shoulder and smiles at me again, but this time there’s something new in his eyes, something glimmering and hungry.
“Good,” he says. “Let’s talk this over in my office.”
Chapter 2
Professor Sharpe
I unlock the door to my office, then point Melody to a chair and sit behind my desk. She glances around with her huge blue eyes, taking everything in as she yanks on her skirt again, trying to keep herself covered as she sits in the chair facing my desk.
“I assume you’re familiar with the coursework,” I start, lacing my hands on the desk.
Melody nods, her mahogany hair falling over her shoulders. I force myself not to look down, even though I’m nearly certain I could see a tiny peek of her panties if I did.
“And you’re also aware that you have to maintain a certain GPA,” I go on, the words on autopilot. “Though if all your work is as excellent as it is in my class, that shouldn’t be too hard.”
Melody smiles and looks down, crossing her legs as she does. I’m glad I’m sitting behind my desk, because being this close to this girl — this student — has me rock hard for the millionth time this semester, my cock straining at the zipper of my pants.
“I’ll keep my grades up,” she says, a half-smile on her face.
I nod, then go on with the requirements for being a Classics major as she blinks, smiles, and agrees with me.
Thank God I do this all the time, because I can barely think straight with her right here. I’ve been watching this girl all semester — the way she blushes when she asks questions in class, the way she bites her pen sometimes when she’s thinking, her perfect lips sucking on it carefully, her pink tongue just barely visible, the way she walks out the door of my classroom.
I want those wide blue eyes staring up at me as she gets on her knees, her pink tongue darting between her lips as she carefully takes my cock in one hand and then, slowly and carefully, takes it into her mouth millimeter by millimeter.
My balls tighten at just the thought.
“Of course,” she says in response to something I’ve said. “I’m thinking of applying to grad schools after college, so my thesis would be really important.”
I keep talking, but her skirt’s inching up her thighs bit by bit, the neck of her shirt low, her shoes totally impractical for the weather we’re having. She’s uncertain of herself for sure, but there’s no way she knows the effect it’s having on me.
She’s too young, I remind myself. She’s your student.
If anything happens, you’re fired, tenure or not.
You’re already skating on thin ice after that incident when you were in grad school. Don’t be stupid, Ethan.
We talk about her thesis. I force myself not to think about spreading her legs on my desk and drinking her sweet honey while she moans my name, my tongue in her tight little pussy.
Jesus, of all the women to turn me on this much, why did it have to be a student? Why couldn’t it be someone less dangerous, like a coworker or my stepsister?
“Well, I’m happy to take you as an advisee,” I say. “Just remember, I’m much harder than most advisors.”
In more ways than one, I think.
“I don’t mind hard,” Melody says, then blushes. “Actually, I think I prefer it.”
For just a second, I look at her lap, her tiny skirt ridden almost all the way up to her hips. A tiny triangle of her white panties is visible between her thighs, and I have to force myself to stay seated instead of walking around the desk and bending her over it.
“Good,” I say. “By the way, I’m having all my advisees over for hot chocolate and snacks on Saturday night. Certainly not mandatory, but you’re welcome to come if you’ve got nothing more exciting planned.”
She shakes her head a little too vigorously, then blushes pink.
“Not at all,” she says.
“Perfect,” I say, and stand without thinking.
My erection is practically halfway across my desk, a goddamn tentpole sticking out of my pants. There’s nothing I can do except pretend it’s not there, even though we both see it.
She also stands, looking me determinedly in the eye. We shake hands.
“See you Saturday,” she says, opening my office door.
“Yes,” I say, and she leaves.
I take a deep, deep breath, because it’s nerve-shattering how much I want to fuck this twenty-year-old undergrad, this girl who I absolutely can’t touch.
My cock is so hard it hurts, so I close and lock my door quickly and pull down my blinds. I’ve got one hand firmly around the bottom of my shaft before I’m even sitting down again, and I have to bite back a groan as I stroke myself.
Think about porn, I command myself. Think about a coworker, your waitress last night, an ex-girlfriend.
Anyone but Melody. Anyone.
I stroke harder and faster, carefully trying to keep my mind blank as my cock fills my fist, so hard I think it might burst.
Then she pops into my head again, her big eyes and perfect lips and tiny skirt, walking into my office.
Stop it, I think.
Fantasy-Melody walks around my desk, her big innocent eyes watching me jerk off, her lips parted, her chest heaving. My cock twitches in my hand, and I stroke faster, thinking about the same fantasy I’ve had a million times.
Now she’s bent over my desk, my hand in her hair, her skirt around her waist, her pink pussy exposed. Please, she says in the fantasy, begging with her eyes, and I drive myself into her tight hole, her eyes rolling back as I fill her up, tight and wet and hot —
I come with a grunt as my balls tighten instantly and I shoot spurt after spurt of thick, ropy cum, gritting my teeth together against the groan threatening to explode from my chest. I pump my fist up and down my cock again and again until I’m totally spent, breathing hard.
Then I open my eyes, and realize I just came on the floor of my office. Again, because I can’t control myself when I think about Melody.
I sigh, then zip my pants up and grab a tissue.
Chapter 3
Melody
I practically run home to my apartment, Professor Sharpe’s voice echoing in my head.
I’ll ride you hard.
I keep telling myself that he just means he has high academic expectations of his students, but I can’t forget the look in his eye when he said it, the way he practically growled those words at me.
The monster in his pants when he stood to shake my hand.
I drop my keys twice when I try to unlock my front door, because my palms are still sweaty. I’ve soaked completely through my panties, and now the tops of my thighs are wet, my pussy absolutely aching.
It was all I could do not to spread my legs in front of the Professor, let him watch as I peeled my panties off, slid one hand from my soaking slit to my clit and showed him what he does to me.
&nbs
p; Finally, I burst in through the front door of our apartment, with one mission only: get to my bedroom, lock the door, and make myself come until I stop thinking about Professor Sharpe.
“Hey Melody,” says a voice from the kitchen, and I turn my head in surprise. I thought Erica had class this afternoon, but I guess she’s skipping again.
“Hey,” I say, poking my head in so I don’t seem rude, or worse, like I really want to fuck my professor.
“You gurht mm akuj,” she says, a spoon in her mouth. There’s a jar of peanut butter open next to her. Luckily it’s hers, not mine.
“What?” I ask, impatiently.
She swallows.
“You got a package,” she says. “I put it by your door.”
I frown, because I don’t remember ordering anything.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m gonna go study for a while.”
“Cool,” she says, plunging the spoon back into the peanut butter.
The package is fairly big but not heavy, so it can’t be books. I take off my coat and shoes, then sit on the edge of my bed and open it with my keys.
When I see what it is, I freeze for a second and stare.
And then I remember ordering something from the internet.
Last weekend, Erica dragged me out to a party. I had one glass too many of jungle juice, and even though I was talking to a cute undergrad for a while, all I was thinking about was Professor Sharpe — how much I wished I were with him instead of the frat boy, how much I wished he were the one grinding against my ass to dirty rap music.
So, I made some excuse and left, because I knew the frat boy was going to be a terrible substitute. I went home, fired up the internet...
...and ordered a massive dildo with a suction cup on one end. I’d seen one in the porn I’ve been watching — and there’s been a lot lately — and at the time, it seemed like the only thing that might quench my thirst even a little.
Thank you, drunk Melody, I think. You knew exactly what I was going to need.
I run my hand down the giant dildo. Even though it’s purple, it’s realistic otherwise — well, except for being nearly a foot long and so big my fingers don’t fit all the way around it. That’s wildly unrealistic, but this is why dildos exist.
Still, I get even wetter. It’s not the Professor’s cock, but I can pretend that it’s him filling me up and stretching me out, him taking me mercilessly, over and over again, as hard as he wants.
My pussy gushes at the thought, and I pull the dildo from the box, stand, walk to my door, and peek out.
No Erica in sight.
I scamper to the bathroom, praying that she doesn’t catch me carrying an enormous dildo, then lock the door after myself. I strip in seconds, then stand in front of the sink and stroke the fake cock, biting one lip, giving myself this moment of delicious anticipation.
At least wash it off first, I remind myself. Come on.
I nearly laugh out loud at myself, but I stick it in the sink and lather it up with hand soap. The suction cup sticks to the porcelain, making the cock jut upwards as I wash it.
Before I know it I’ve got both hands wrapped around the thing, sliding up and down, slick with soap, and my juices are running down the inside of my leg. I know it’s completely ridiculous to jerk off a silicone cock, but I close my eyes and imagine Professor Sharpe, sitting in front of me, and now I’m stroking him while he watches, a commanding look in his eyes.
I hold my breath and bite my lip. I squeeze harder and stroke faster, my legs trembling, my pussy wet and aching.
Then I take a deep breath and open my eyes, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t make a dildo come. I unstick it and rinse it off in the sink, my insides still quivering with excitement, but suddenly, I don’t quite know what to do.
In the stuff I watched, the girls had it on the wall and backed themselves onto it, but that seems... advanced, and I’m anything but. Besides, I’m a little afraid that I’ll lose control, and the last thing I want is to slip in the bathroom, hit my head, and let my roommate find me unconscious with a comically large dildo in my vagina.
I turn on the shower so at least there’s some noise covering up what I’m about to do, because I can hear Erica wandering around our apartment. Then I consider for a moment, and after deliberating, I suction the dildo to the lip of the tub.
It sticks up, angled ever-so slightly forward, and I take another deep breath. I’m fucking horny for this dildo, and even though I know it’s really Professor Sharpe who’s getting me this wet, I’m in my bathroom staring at a silicone monster.
I don’t care, because I need something and this is it. I step one foot into the tub and brace myself with one hand on the wall and one hand on the lip of the tub, lowering myself onto the massive cock until it’s at my entrance, parting my lips with its massive head.
Then I swallow hard, half nervous that this thing is way too big and half excited, and lower myself fractions of an inch.
The head enters me, and I gasp. It’s stretching my tight pussy wide, and I was afraid it would hurt but instead it feels good, like I was meant to be stretched out and filled up.
I imagine the Professor, sitting in his office chair behind me. His hands on my hips as he pulls me back on to his bare cock, and I bite back a groan as I lower myself further, letting the toy enter me.
I go slow, back and forth, letting the dildo stretch me and fill me up gradually, even though it feels fucking incredible in my pussy. With my eyes closed, I can pretend it’s him.
My knees almost collapse at the thought, as I’m still working my way down this monster, breathing hard and trying not to cry out in pleasure. It feels like he’s — no, it’s — hitting every single pleasure spot inside me, pushing me toward the edge of orgasm before I’ve even managed to take it all.
And then, suddenly, my ass hits the cold porcelain of the tub and I realize that I’ve taken this whole monster and I come with no warning, almost instantly, gritting my teeth together and making a strangled animal noise while I desperately try not to shout or moan.
I lean forward, bracing myself against the wall as I rock back and forth, biting down the words Fuck me, Professor, please, letting the waves pass through my body as the dildo strokes my insides with every movement.
Gradually, it fades, and I can breathe again, my heart beating so fast I think it might explode. I shift and the cock inside me slides along the sensitive walls of my pussy, and I gasp because holy shit this feels good.
I bite my lip. I close my eyes, and very carefully, I put both hands behind me, leaning back. Instantly it presses against my front wall and I grunt without meaning to, the delicious pressure already building up inside me, so savage and insistent that I know I can’t hold it back any longer.
Resting on my hands, I lift my hips carefully, pulling it out partway and easing it back in, and it feels so good I almost fall over. I move faster, up and down, fucking the dildo on the edge of the tub and thinking about my Roman History professor.
I come again. I’m almost out of control, riding this sex toy wildly in the shower, but I don’t care. I need this, I need to feel just a little like I’m fucking Professor Sharpe before I lose my mind.
I don’t stop. I keep fucking myself, feeling the delicious girth slide in and out of me, imagining the Professor holding me down on a table and slamming his huge cock into me, again and again.
I just keep coming, wave after wave wracking my body, and I can hear myself gasping and whimpering but I feel completely powerless to stop until they’re finally over and I’m shaking, my body wrung out and spent.
I slide off the dildo one more time. I stand. I unstick it from the tub, get in the shower, and wash it off.
Do this again before your advisee’s meeting tomorrow night and maybe you can survive it without making a fool of yourself, I think.
I’m not particularly hopeful.
Chapter 4
Professor Sharpe
This advisee meeting is completely no
rmal. Hartvale University prides itself on small class sizes, and on professors and students working together in a friendly, open, productive community. Most professors host students in their homes a few times a semester, so there’s nothing odd about this.
Except how desperately I want one of my students. That is completely beyond the pale, but all I can think about is Melody’s body under mine, completely under my control as she writhes and moans in pleasure.
I want her. I want all of her. I want her body to belong to me, totally and completely, and I want her to beg me to make her mine.
I’ve jerked off so much thinking about her that my cock is probably developing callouses.
At eight exactly, my doorbell rings. It’s Todd, followed shortly by Ben, and I welcome them both in.
“The hot chocolate is ready and on the stove,” I say. “Cookies are already in the living room, make yourselves comfortable.”
“Thanks,” they say, almost in unison, looking around at my house. Most undergrads are a little nervous their first time here, but it’s understandable.
Doorbell again. It’s Anna, my third advisee, who’s wearing so many sweaters I can barely identify her as human. Still, she’s a nice young lady who’s very smart and driven.
The four of us sit in the living room, sipping hot chocolate and eating cookies that I bought earlier today. After a few minutes of trying not to talk about school, I give up and ask Todd how his thesis is going.
He pushes his glasses up his nose.
“Quite well, I think,” he says. “I’ve identified all the primary sources needed to—”
The doorbell rings again, and I practically leap out of my seat.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
It’s finally Melody, and when I open the door she’s looking up at me with her wide blue eyes, cheeks rosy from the cold, something about her the perfect mix of innocent and downright sinful.
“Welcome,” I say.
