36 Inches: A MFMM Romantic Comedy

by Alexis Angel

  Another question, fully loaded.

  The double shot of question he offers up goes right to my belly. “Yes,” I say, my eyes on his shoes, in front of me but between my own legs, the way we’re standing. My heart, my skin is all fluttering. A nervous, anxious tide runs through me. “No,” I say now. I look up at him. “Why would you do so much for me?” I ask, and my question is at once purely what I need to know, coming from my mouth before I knew my voice was acting again, and has its own rider — I want to know where he is concerning me, period.

  “The past repeats, and I seek to be a better man…but that’s not really all that’s changed,” Ethan says.

  His cryptic remarks twist my stomach up more, make my breathing shallow, and then he fingers a tendril of my loose waves next to my face.

  “My mother mentioned you were friends…are friends?” I say. I don’t even wish I hadn’t brought up my mother, even though the only real thing on my mind is Ethan. I crave him more than oxygen, and I feel so deprived, like I’ve never seen the sun. I want to burn with him.

  Ethan laughs, a sound without a smile. The laugh doesn’t meet his eyes, there’s no joy in that laugh. Pain. More cryptic memories dredged up from the past. He steps closer to me, dropping the lock of hair and brushing his fingers against my jawline. “Perhaps we can be friends,” he says in a low, sensual voice.

  My pussy is on fire right now. The ache of my nipples is vicious, harsh against the fabric. If I stepped just a breath closer, I’d be brushing them against him. The idea is so tantalizing that I hope that large breath I suck in will do the dirty work for me. “I know what you really mean. I like your games…but that’s not what I want to play right now,” I say, surprising myself.

  Then again, I may be a virgin and I may not be a social butterfly, but I'm damned ambitious. I go after what I want, and I go after it hard.

  I step closer to him, deleting the space between us to feel his hardness press against me, for my nipples to brush against the firm wall of his chest. I gasp, my heart plummeting to my stomach at the sensation of further contact. “I want you,” I say. It's somehow the filthiest, best sentence I've ever uttered. I hear wings and velvet behind my mind, the sound of clothes dropping and lips making contact. If Ethan doesn’t kiss me, I will kiss him.

  The idea of kissing Ethan, pouring all this need bubbling and boiling inside me into him, makes me ache. I stand on my tiptoes, my hand touching his where it lingers on my face. I pull his fingers to my lips, kissing the fingertips, and then I press my lips to his bottom lip. Then I sweep my lips over Ethan’s upper lip, and I finally close my lips over his, taking his mouth as mine.

  But whatever passion I have is exponentially multiplied in his movements. First Ethan traps my head in his hands and kisses me so fervently that my feet drop to the ground. I’m pressed helplessly against him. I can’t breathe, and I inhale him, our lips dancing together, tongues against tongues. His claiming kiss, his possessive hold, makes my brain melt in the fire erupting over my skin.

  Never did I think a kiss could so utterly capture me and draw out every ounce of pleasure in my body like this one has. My pulse is fast, the needle of the pace ready to crack glass inside me. Because I’m shattered at Ethan’s kiss. One of his hands drops down to dip under my shirt. His fingers against the small of my back make me shiver with need.

  “Emmaline, fuck,” Ethan says in a low, dangerous voice. I can feel the heat of the moment pulling us into something wicked. The spiraling, pooling vortex of heat sucking us in makes the air crackle with the raw lust, and I know there’s no stopping this now.

  His mouth is on my neck, and I pull him close in my arms, moaning at his every touch. I feel him bring his lips lower, sliding into my shirt, under my bra strap. Every little invasion with and pressing of his lips to my skin makes the pressure inside my stomach even more intense. It builds low in my belly and feels like a hot river of lust sliding down my pussy. I ache for him. It literally hurts, I need him so bad, and I cry out when his teeth contact my skin. “I need you so much,” I whimper. “Please, please,” I groan.

  Ethan

  Emmaline is begging me, and she has no clue how much she’s waking the beast within me. I’m charming when I need to be, and that’s who I’ve been now. I told myself I’d resist her.

  Not a fucking chance.

  Emmaline is mine now.

  I press my hands up into her shirt and move them up to squeeze the cups of her breasts. She’s melting in my hands, whimpering for me. She can’t know what this does to me. I’m not going to be able to stop if I start to take her the way I want to.

  I can’t fuck this girl. I won’t.

  But I have to taste her.

  I kiss her deeply, feeling her yield to me. My cock is so hard, pressed between us and feeling her soft little body all over me. The scent of her fills the air and consumes me, deleting my every resistance.

  There’s no resistance in Emmaline. She craves me as much as I crave her, and that’s a volatile combination. One I can’t wait to feel.

  I move my lips to her neck, dipping my hands down to her pants and undoing them. Before she gets a different idea, I lay her against my desk and pull off her pants and press my face between her thighs.

  I expect some degree of resistance. My face is right at her pussy now and I look up into her eyes, and my cock is harder than a fucking diamond when I see that look in her eyes.

  Hunger, lust, desire, all directed at me. I want to give her everything she wants, and I don’t think she even knows exactly what she wants from me. I feel that the trepidation in the air has nothing to do with me.

  Poor Emmaline’s never had a real man before, and I’m about to show her what that’s like.

  I press my mouth to her clit, my tongue lapping over it. I watch her face. Emmaline’s eyes look like they’re going to pop from her head, they go so wide. She sighs loudly, the sensation of my mouth on her pussy dragging sound from low in her throat.

  I bring two fingers to her pussy and stroke the soft lips, feeling how wet she is for me, then slide my tongue up and down her slit.

  Her head falls back, her eyes rolling back as she gives herself to my touch. Emmaline’s hands grip the edge of my desk, holding on for dear life like she might fall off.

  Not a chance, princess.

  “C-can I hold your face while you do that?” Emmaline asks breathlessly.

  No way anyone has ever eaten her pussy before. What a damn shame, as this is the nectar of the fucking gods down here. Her pussy is so goddamn delicious, and soft, I think I’d kill to taste it for another second.

  But I don’t have to because Emmaline wants me down there. She has no idea just what she’s in for right now, either. “Yeah, you can touch me, Emmaline,” I say, the words harder to say than I realize. Her sweet innocence is vicious against my experience … when I eat a girl’s pussy, it's nothing like this. She’s into it, and she’s driving her hands into my hair and making the whole circus array of noises when I make her cum. But sweet Emmaline wants to know if she can touch me. She has no idea just how deep she’s already penetrated my being. How much I need her.

  Her hand touches my face almost tentatively, worshipfully, before she puts her hands in my hair. Emmaline is so gentle, so soft, so giving, it fucking undoes me.

  “Your pussy tastes so good,” I hum against her skin.

  I think maybe this will freak her out, make her shy.

  No such thing. Emmaline keeps surprising me, and it makes me crave her more.

  “Your tongue makes me feel things I’ve never felt before,” she says, breathing heavy. I watch her breasts rise and fall and I can’t breathe for a second.

  “Wait till you cum,” I say with a smirk.

  “I don’t want to wait. When I masturbate thinking about you, I cum so much I think I need to get an IV for dehydration,” Emmaline admits.

  Fuck, it takes everything in me to not fuck this girl right now.

  “Well then I guess I have your
wildest fantasies to live up to,” I say. I hear how thick my voice is, dark and deep and betraying every ounce of lust that I have for her. “I could lick your pussy all day, though we both have classes in twenty minutes,” I tell her. I dip back into her pussy.

  I see that look of confusion on her face. Yes, I know your schedule. I don’t even want to hide my stalker tendencies right now. I need everything out on the table with her. Emmaline makes me want to tell her all my deep dark secrets. If I poured my truths into her, I don't think she’d spit them out. I crave the way Emmaline seems to revere and worship me, and above all, seems to truly understand me.

  If she’s bothered, I can’t tell. Mostly because her face contorts in pleasure, her little hands holding onto me but letting me take the reins on how and where I lick her pussy.

  I lick every inch of that perfect pussy. I bring my fingers up to her clit and I work little circles, feeling her thighs shiver around me with every movement. I grip her thigh with my hand, just needing to touch her, before I put my hand up under her to cup her ass and pull her against me. I devour her pussy, working her until she’s just on the edge. I don’t want to tease her though, right now I only aim to please her. When she gets close, I slide two fingers into her tight pussy and stroke her, deep and slow, so that the orgasm cascades through her body like she’s rafting through rapids. I bring my mouth to her clit and worship it. I erase her every thought with pleasure from my mouth, my fingers.

  Her hands cup my face, and Emmaline is so tender, so sweet. I wish we didn’t both have classes to go to.

  “Fuck, Ethan, I’m cumming so hard,” she whimpers. “Kiss me, she says, and she holds my face, trying to pull me up.

  I rise and press my lips to hers, grinding my painfully hard cock against her trembling wet pussy.

  Just as our lips connect, the door opens. I pull away from Emmaline and see that the person who walked in has folders in front of their face. I yank Emmaline off the desk and grab some papers and walk toward them, and take care of what they were asking for before heading back. Emmaline still looks like she’s seeing little cartoon animals around her, and it gives me pause that in this moment she’s so naive that she doesn’t think to hide what we were doing. Sure, I’m flattered that she came so hard that she doesn’t have any senses, but it really worries me that we could be so indiscrete and she’s not more worried. I know that plenty of other students try to fuck me and they would probably be sneaky…but I don’t want them, all lust and no…spark.

  There’s a spark between Emmaline and I that I want to explore.

  “Don’t want to be late for Calculus II, and I’ve a full lecture hall,” I say, pulling up her shirt and yanking her breast out of her bra. Closing my mouth over the nipple, I swirl my tongue over her and slide my fingers back into her pussy.

  Fuck, what am I doing?

  If I don't want to get caught, maybe I need to worry more about what I’m up to. I slide my fingers into my mouth, releasing her nipple with a wet pop. I change into different trousers, the same style so not even the wandering syllabus seeker should know what’s transpired, and I head toward the door. Emmaline fixes her own clothes and stumbles toward the door.

  If I could eat her pussy that she came hard enough to walk like that, I can’t imagine what truly letting loose on her could be like. The idea makes me fucking weak for a moment. I want to taste every inch of that girl.

  “Thank you, Ethan,” Emmaline turns to say. “Reality is sweeter than fantasy,” she says as she walks out the door.

  Fuck, that girl could wrap me all around her and I’d never see the sky again. I’d never give a fuck. She’s too damn sexy; I want to watch her leave. I’m holding my lecture notes in front of me like I’m a college student, trying to hide my throbbing erection. I want this load deep inside Emmaline’s pussy but we both have class.

  And if I had some damn sense, I’d stop myself from starting something I shouldn’t be doing. Fuck, I don’t have any sense or control with her. And I goddamn like it.

  Emmaline

  My brain and my body don’t quite recover from the jilt of not having Ethan’s mouth, Ethan’s hands, all over me like they were in his office. This is the part where reason and common sense are supposed to interfere with my insanity, but, like, I’m just in a daze today. The memory of his touch ghosts over my body, haunting me to the point where I’m possessed with thoughts only of his touch and the pleasure it brings.

  No man (or woman for that matter) has ever put their mouth on my breasts, much less my pussy, and that sensation has me amazed that my legs can even get me to my next class.

  I remember how Ethan clearly knew about my next class coming up. Sure, he says everything in that self-assured voice, but Ethan knew I had a class soon, it wasn’t just bravado.

  Judging by how hard I came and that gut instinct I have about him, there’s no way that man bluffs. He doesn’t have to.

  I know having an affair with Ethan is wrong. I’ve been ignoring that fact as hard as I can and I’m shocked by how glazed over the idea still is in my brain. This is against university rules! I mean, I’m the kind of girl who would normally go into cardiac arrest at breaking the rules. Like, I used to be a good girl…but now I know how damn fun being a bad girl is. That’s so childish of me, like I needed to screw my head on right after the idiotic stupor I left myself in when I was in Ethan’s office ... and I need to think about the real consequences of my action. Any minute now the war my common sense is losing has to change tides, right?

  Now I know that Delia and I have to talk. Like there’s just no way that I can keep this all inside. I have to talk to someone I can trust about this. My head won’t stay level and I need advice. Delia’s a jokester but after she gets over the shock of me breaking bad, then she’s sure to offer up some salient advice.

  I snap the lid on my Zebra midliners and find that when I look over my page of pastel highlights, I’ve actually done a good job on reviewing my Calculus II notes. I can’t put the ability to pass the class I worked so hard to get into, into a ‘plus’ column for screwing around with my teacher though.

  So what if I’m keeping pace with in-class lectures?

  How on earth can I think that coming onto Ethan was okay? I mean, he was so ready to wrap his arms around me and bury his face between my thighs.

  The painful thought that he must do this with lots of students does occur to me, but even if that’s true, he did only have eyes for me in class.

  God, that probably makes me the dumbest girl in the world.

  I whip out my phone. “Siri,” I groan to the phone even though I’m holding down the home button. Habit. I’m a stubborn, methodical person who does things the way they always do.

  Well, until now!

  “Text Delia,” I tell my phone.

  “What would you to say to Delia?” my phone asks.

  “Meet me at my dorm, or yours. Girl talk, stat,” I say and release my home button. Siri of course doesn’t pick up what I’m saying because I’m frustrated and that would've been too easy. I swipe her away and text Delia.

  She messages back right away that she’s going to meet me in five. Guess she’s out of class already. Goodness, maybe it's good that Ethan seems to know my schedule, because I’m already forgetting Delia’s and maybe mine is next!

  My brain feels like it is stuffed full of clouds. Or cotton candy.

  Whatever they stuff your brains with when you become obsessed with your professor. It ain’t more brains, or sense…wow, I can’t even think of a smart thing to say now!

  I shove my hands in pockets, walking quickly and avoiding people until I get to my room.

  I don’t feel guilty or shameful about what I did, and that’s kind of the problem. Like, I want to be a rule following kind of girl, like I always have been.

  But I also can’t imagine not giving my virginity to Ethan. I want him inside me — not just his fingers or his tongue. I’m more focused on that than anything. That’s going to ruin my sanity an
d my GPA!

  Delia’s waiting at the door — when my roommate is back, she doesn’t just barge in. Lindsay is cool, but Lindsay isn’t her best friend. If Lindsay is in the room, then Delia and I can go for coffee. This is not the kind of conversation that I can do with company. What I find really strange is that I don’t seem to feel weird planning to discuss this with Delia. I mean, an affair with my teacher should be something I want to keep top secret, and she’s definitely the only person that I’m willing to tell, but I also don’t like keeping the secret.

  And something that I probably should've thought about sooner — my mother — creeps into mine. The next time she calls me will probably be tomorrow, and that’s so not a conversation I could have with her. She can sniff anything out over the phone. We’re close. And I don’t normally hide things from her.

  “Are you okay?” Delia says quietly when she sees me.

  I appreciate her hushed tone. When I look at her, a big, stupid grin spreads over my face! “Yes, it isn’t bad. Well, it kind of is. But, like, if Lindsay is in the room we’ve got to go so like—“

  “Slow down, Em, you’re gonna hyperventilate or something. Ya sound a little crazy. Wait,” Delia says and her eyes get so wide it's like they doubled. “Girl, did you meet a guy?”

  “Yeah, and not just online or in class…” I say, crooking my head to the side as I open the door. Lindsay left a note on the board on the door, on the inside. ‘Library till 3, promise to be quiet.’

  “Yay, privacy, now tell me why you’re talking in riddles,” Delia says, her eyes getting a mad glint in them that actually makes me giggle.

  “I’m coming to you because I need advice, Delia, I did something crazy…with Ethan,” I say, and I stop to watch her face.

  The light of recognition on her face mixes with confusion. “Wait, you bagged the hot teacher? Giiiiiiiiiirl!”

  “Well, he … he fingered me in his office today, and went down on me,” I just spill the beans like that.

  Delia’s face is priceless. “Goddamn girl he ate your pussy in his damn OFFICE!” she practically shouts the last part. “Shit, sorry, damn, oh my God,” Delia says. Her face is confused but she’s grinning. “Damn, I though I was the bad one. Good job girl. Good damn job. So did you see his cock? Is it huge, God I bet it's huge…”