by Mona Cox
My hand is moving faster and faster, a blur, and I’m having a hard time breathing as I imagine wrapping my hands in her hair and fucking her doggy style, her head arched back towards me as I thrust hard and unprotected into her, showing her who the boss is…
My cock erupts, spurting cum in long ropes everywhere, and I just keep stroking, my body jerking, the world disappearing as my vision whites out.
Fuuuccckkkkk…
Yessss…
Finally, my body relaxes and I collapse back into my office chair, boneless yet not satiated.
I won’t be, until I’ve fucked Christine senseless. Until I’ve made her cry for mercy.
Until I’ve made her mine.
157
Christine
I settle further back into the red leather couch – a trademark of Dos Caminos – my strawberry margarita in my hand. I’d asked for a margarita heavy on the tequila, and the bartender didn’t disappoint. I’m feeling good, real good.
“So then, he’s just jogging up the stairs like I’m nothing and I can’t help myself, you guys. I turned my head and started nuzzling his chest. I mean, it was right there and he smelled so damn good, I wanted to just dive headlong in and like my way up his chest, but I couldn’t ‘cause I was supposed to be conked out, you know?”
Natalie and Kim start laughing. “Do you think you could’ve pretended that your mouth naturally sucks and licks when you’re unconscious?” Natalie asks. “No, no, I wasn’t awake, Sexy Professor Dude – I always give blow jobs while asleep. Haven’t your other girlfriends done that?”
Kim sighed, her eyes squeezing shut with ecstasy. “I don’t know about you guys, but being asleep while Anders Trask was fucking me? That sounds like a crime to womankind everywhere.” Her eyes pop open as she finally puts the name together. “Hold on, this is the same Trask family that made all their family with shipping and real estate, right?”
I grin at her. “One and the same.”
“Oh my god,” she breathes. “I knew he was hot, I knew he was fuckable, but hot damn! The Trask family? The Trask family? They’re richer than God.”
“I know,” I admit with a happy sigh. “And this particular one has worked at the UN. How amazing is that?? I’d give my right arm to go to work at the UN, and he’s already done that! Oh, oh, I forgot to tell you guys the best part – about the UN Consultancy Program!”
“Only you would think the UN Consultancy Program is the best part,” Kim grumbles, but Natalie elbows her in the ribs.
“What about the program?” Natalie asks me sweetly, smiling widely. Good ol’ Natalie – a damn good listener, and always has her head screwed on straight.
“Well, NYU is partnering with the UN to find interns to work at the UN. It’s this whole program but the only way to get into it is to be nominated by your teacher. So I’m totally at the hands of Anders on whether or not I get to join this.”
I nibble on my lower lip for a moment. “The problem is, the main criteria is whether or not I display moral fiber. You guys, I wanna fuck Anders nine ways ’til tomorrow morning, but I can’t sleep my way into the one program where they’re emphasizing ‘moral fiber.’ The irony is just too much.” I chuckle mirthlessly and then take another swig of my margarita.
“Oh god, but can you imagine fucking Anders Trask??” Kim squeals, completely ignoring my moral dilemma for a moment. I have to admit, I don’t mind ignoring it for a moment either, and instead close my eyes and let myself imagine.
“As big as his hands are, I’m sure Anders’ dick is huge,” I say, a smile spreading across my face at the thought. “Wrapping my mouth around it is going to be a real feat. It’s so damn big, I could probably do pull-ups on it. I could call it my Trask Workout and do it every morning when I wake up, snuggled next to him. Can’t you just see it??”
When I don’t get a response, my eyes pop open.
No, Kim and Natalie are still there, except instead of imagining their own Trask Workout, their faces have gone white and they’re staring over my shoulder.
My right shoulder.
“He’s right there, isn’t he?” I whisper.
They nod in tandem.
God, let me die now. Right now. Strike me dead. Any moment now, just death.
.
.
.
Fuuccckkkk…I’m still alive. And now, I’m going to have to turn and face him.
158
Anders
I scan Dos Caminos with my eyes, looking for Christine. I hear a group of girls giggling in one of the booths at the far end of the room, so that’s where I head to. Christine’s voice comes at me like a breeze, and I feel my cock twitching inside my pants. Fuck, I need to get it together.
“As big as his hands are, I’m sure Anders’ cock is huge,” I hear Christine say as I’m closing in on her booth. She’s sitting with her back to me, but two of her friends are looking straight at me, the smile on their faces dropping as they realize who I am. Yap, girls, Ander-with-the-huge-dick, that’s me. “Wrapping my mouth around it is going to be a real feat. It’s so damn big, I could probably do pull-ups on it. I could call it my Trask Workout and do it every morning when I wake up, snuggled next to him. Can’t you just see it?” Christine continues, oblivious to the fact that I’m standing right behind her. I got to give it to her: she has quite an imagination.
This is going to be fun.
Suddenly, she falls quiet and whispers something at her two friends. They nod, their faces pale and expressionless.
“Hello, ladies,” I tell the three of them, turning the charm on and giving them my best smile.
“Hello,” Christine’s two friends greet me with a faux smile, and then she finally turns around on her seat to face me.
“Hey, professor,” she whispers, her face as red as a ripe tomato. She looks even cuter like this. “Glad you came.”
“No, I’m the one who’s glad,” I tell her with a grin. “I got here right on time,” I say, taking a glance at my wristwatch. Her cheeks become even more flushed, and she starts twiddling her thumbs in a nervous tick. “May I?” I ask, pointing at the seat next to her.
“Of course,” she hurries, sliding over in the seat. With a nervous smile she points at her two friends and introduces them, “Professor, Ashley and Kim. Girls, this is Professor Anders.”
“Nice to meet you, girls,” I flash them my smile once more, and they smile back at me, standing up in a hurry.
“Likewise, Professor,” Ashley says, and then Kim takes the lead.
“Anyway, we have to go… We’re late for, uh, yoga!” Kim tells us, and then grabs her friend by the hand. In a matter of seconds, they cross the whole room and vanish.
“Do your friends always do yoga after a tequila marathon?” I ask Christine, pointing at the pile of empty glasses sitting on her table.
“They weren’t very subtle, were they?” Christine sighs, looking down at her hands. She’s still twiddling her thumbs, and her face hasn’t gotten any less flushed.
“No, they weren’t,” I laugh, and then turn around to order a 21 year old Glenfiddich, no ice. The waiter nods at me after jotting down my request on his pad, and then disappears behind the counter.
“Professor, I’m sorry… The girls and I we were just, uh, fooling around,” she stammers, making an herculean effort to look me in the eyes. I stare at her cherry lips, momentarily lost in how beautiful she is. I think back to when I carried her limp body to the nursery, her sweet scent crawling up my nostrils and numbing my brain.
I slide into the booth, and turn back to Christine, taking in her evening outfit in one glance. A pencil skirt that reaches her knees, sure, but it has a slit up the front of her left thigh that shows a smooth expanse of lickable tanned skin. The slit stops tantalizingly close to her hip and I have to wonder if she bothered with panties when she came tonight. Is she that kind of bad girl?
I know I want to find out.
I know I shouldn’t, because she’s my student, but that re
ason seems further and further away. Less and less as something I should care about. I’ve never met anyone who captivates me like Christine Jalili does.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her in a soothing tone. “I’m used to that,” I continue, grinning as the waiter returns and hands me my whisky. I take a gulp out of it and then set the glass down on the table. “I just hope all that conversation didn’t have anything to do with the applications process.” As much as I hate to cool down the conversation, I need her to hear this.
“No!” She cries out in a hurry. “Of course not.”
“But,” I say, sipping at the top-shelf Scotch. It burned all the way down as only good Scotch can. “It sounds like my cock would make a nice piece of exercise equipment.”
She turned seven shades of red, which is just about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. I’m used to women who throw themselves at me, who have no qualms about talking dirty to me. Apparently, Christine can talk a big talk but isn’t as good at walking that walk. At least, not with me.
“Well,” she squeaks and then takes a big gulp of her margarita. “I just thought…I was just ruminating on…I was thinking that it’d be nice and bi—”
She stops herself and takes another big drink of her margarita. At that rate, she’s going to finish it in just minutes, and will be tipsy as hell when she’s done.
What’s a gentleman like me to do? Flag down another passing waitress, of course. “Another margarita for the lady,” I say, jerking my head towards Christine.
Christine’s mouth turns into a rounded circle. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says, her cheeks a scarlet color. I imagine that mouth enclosing my dick, sucking it in, and feel my dick twitch, despite my recent spank-the-monkey marathon. Around Christine, I just can’t seem to help myself.
Despite her half-hearted protests, she greedily sucks down the last of her margarita in front of her to make room for the drink on its way. I move a little closer, watching her every move – a grain of salt in the corner of her mouth that she catches with the tip of her pink tongue.
Never have I been so jealous of salt in all my life.
“We should talk about the UN Program,” she says, her voice unnaturally high.
“Good.” I look into her eyes again, but then my gazes shifts to her slender neck and then further down. She’s wearing a low cut dress, and I can see the curve of her breasts starting. Inside my pants, my cock is twitching once more. Fuck, this girl is going to be my damnation.
I make the effort to shift my gaze from her breasts to her face, and I notice that she’s staring at me with an entranced expression, her breathing growing irregular. After hearing what she just told her friends, there’s no doubt in my mind: Christine wants me as much as I want her.
“So, uh, about the application…”
“Yeah, the application,” I respond, changing gears. “As I told you, the main criteria is moral fiber. Why do you feel you’re qualified for this program?”
“I…” She mutters, and then stops and takes a deep breath. I can tell that she’s trying to fish a rehearsed speech from the depths of her mind. “I believe that I’m qualified for this position at UN because I have always been a hard worker, and I pride myself on my strong ethical sense and --”
I hate to admit it, but I’m no longer listening to whatever she’s saying. I’m looking at her, sure, but I’m more focused on the way her full cherry lips move than in what she’s saying. Before I can think it through, I place one hand on her knee, and she stops speaking.
“Professor…” She whispers, that tomato red color returning to her cheeks. Her voice thickens and her chest starts to rise and fall at an hurried pace.
“Christine…” I say, and then we are leaning into each other, our eyelids drooping as our lips succumb to that invisible pull between us. When our mouths touch, the sweet strawberry flavor of her lips hits me like a brick. My cock stops twitching and, in just a few seconds, goes from limp to hard as a flag pole.
Thank god for bench seats. We’re on the backside of the half-circle couch, with the table in front of us as we look out into the restaurant itself. No one will be able to see what we’re doing underneath the table…
I place my hand just above her knee, on the exposed flesh courtesy of the slit in her skirt, and begin stroking my hand upwards. She takes another big gulp of her margarita and I can see her pulse at the base of her throat, beating frantically. I want to suck on that spot and feel the pulse beneath my mouth, feel it speed up even further.
“My…moral fiber is just fine,” she says. “Although, I…uhhh…”
I am inching ever closer to her pussy, my fingers lightly stroking her flesh as I go. I’m watching how this is just destroying her – how it’s just making her fall to pieces in front of me as she tries to figure out how to keep it together and she just fucking can’t…
My dick could probably benchpress weights right now, it’s so fucking hard and throbbing.
My fingers are at the apex of her thighs now, sliding underneath her skirt, and she swallows hard.
“Idon’twantyoutopickmebecauseyouwantofuckme,” she says in a rush then breathes a sigh of relief.
But that relief is cut short when I reach her pussy itself. Oh god yes, she has some lacy piece of fabric covering her mound and I am dying to know what color it is. Will it match the red of her bra that I saw the other day?
She closes her eyes with a soft groan and begins to rotate her hips ever so lightly against my fingers. “Oh, yes,” she breathes. “Right there…”
“So you want me to pick you because of your moral fiber, not because I want to rip those panties off and fuck you right here on this table?” I breathe into her ear, my fingers pushing harder against her pussy and she’s almost bucking against me now, desperate for release.
“Yes, yes, please,” she groans and I don't know what she’s asking me for, and I don’t think she knows either. She’s lost in her own world of pleasure and alcohol and lust.
I slide my right hand behind her head while pressing ever harder with my left hand, rotating, and even through the lace of her panties, I can feel her clit, hard and needing what only I can give her.
“Come for me, baby,” I whisper in her ear and her whole body arches and she’s gasping and there’s no doubt in my mind that if someone is watching us, they know exactly what we’re doing.
And damn is that hot.
She may blush when caught talking about my dick, but when I start rubbing her clit in public, she’ll let me do it. I wonder how far I can take this exhibitionist streak in her.
She’s sinking back into the leather couch, a look of pure bliss on her face, and I pull my fingers out from underneath her skirt and lick them lightly.
Ambrosia.
As we pull back, we stare into one another as the reality of what we’ve just done starts sinking in. “Well, this creates a problem,” I state the obvious, and she purses her lips in a worried expression. But then her faces open up into an easy smile.
“It does,” she whispers, but then leans into me and brushes her lips against mine. She nibbles at my lower lip and, placing her hand on my knee, she starts sliding it up to my crotch. She’s out of control. And, fuck it, so am I.
I slide my hand under her dress and run it until my fingertips are against her inner thighs.
Good Lord, I can’t get enough.
“We can’t,” she tells me, panting. By the look on her face, she went against all that her body wants just to stop me. But she’s right. We really shouldn’t be doing this.
“I know. This might create a conflict of interest with your application,” I start, taking a deep breath and reaching for the whisky.
“And you could lose your job…” Yeah, there’s that too. The board of directors doesn’t really like it when professors get involved with their students. I can’t really blame them, although that policy annoys me to no end right now.
“Yeah, fuck,” I breathe out. “We didn’t think about that…yo
u know, before?”
“I know,” she whispers, leaning back against her seat. “This is frustrating, but I don’t think we should be doing anything else tonight.” Tonight? What does she mean tonight? Go on, Christine. “Let’s do something. I… I…” she starts to stammer but then takes a sip out of her margarita and takes a deep breath. “I want to be with you, and I trust that you won’t allow anything that happens between us to sway your decision. Because this, the kiss and what I feel, has nothing to do with the applications. I just…. Needed to do it.” She takes another sip out of her margarita and then continues. “So, if you trust me… If you can believe what I’m saying, that I can keep things separated… Wear black tomorrow, and I’ll know.”
“You have a deal, Christine,” I tell her with a smile, nodding and mentally looking through my wardrobe for black clothes. “But I also want you to do something for me. I want you to come into this fully knowing what you’re getting into. If you are okay with the fact that I’m into you… And if you know that I don’t want you because you’re younger than me or because you’re my student… Then I also want you to wear black. That way we’ll both know.”
“Deal,” she beams at me, and offers me her hand. I grab it, her small fingers against the palm of her hand, and shake it.
Fuck, what am I getting into?
159
Cellular One Wireless
Anders: This is Anders. After our discussion tonight, I just want to make it clear that I can choose based on qualifications alone. Whether or not I want to fuck you senseless, I can make the best choice for NYU and the UN for this program.
Christine: You want to fuck me senseless?
Anders: I want to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.
