by Havana Scott
“Liam. You can call me Liam.” I lean against the counter, propping my head up with my hand. She really does shine like a diamond all dressed up, the result of natural beauty plus an occasion outside of school.
“Oh,” she giggles, sliding her fingers through her hair. “You know, even though I’m at your house, I don’t think I can call you that. I’ll just stick to Professor for now, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Probably better that way, and I appreciate her direction.
We make small talk for a few minutes, good thing, because I’m trying to figure out how to proceed. But then, Sabine reaches out and takes my hand, swinging it for a second. The sudden contact of her skin on mine makes my imagination go crazy, and suddenly, I’m imagining her taking my hand and placing it to her breast. “You know what’s funny? My whole class is in love with you.”
“They are?”
“Yes, every single one.” She lets go of my hand. I’m disappointed. “You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when you came in on Monday. Their jaws literally dropped.” Her laugh is melodious, despite her husky deeper voice, making me want to laugh with her. “Anyway, I’m laughing because if they could see me now…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t have to.
I understand completely. If the male professors I work with could see me now with this gorgeous undergrad in my house, they’d be jealous. My female colleagues would accuse me of exploiting her. I’m trying to decide if I should throw caution to the wind and just get this over with—seduce her, and no one would ever have to know. Something tells me it wouldn’t be too difficult. She was ready for me to be a surrogate long before her friend bailed on her.
But then, another idea slinks into my mind, an even better one.
“Sabine,” I tell her, coming around to sit on the counter stool opposite of her. The beer has only mildly affected me, but it’s shaved off my nerves’ edges. It’s now or never. “I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but there is one thing we could do.” I sink back the second half of my beer and look at her.
So fucking beautiful. God, four days. Just four days ago, I could’ve gone for it. There would’ve been no issue, and I would’ve had her screaming my name at the top of her lungs. I would’ve had her legs spread on that stool, as I showed her exactly how kissing could make a woman melt. I would’ve fingered her under that green dress and licked my fingers clean.
She would’ve been the first undergrad I would’ve taken to bed, but it wouldn’t have broken any rules. But no…I just had to accept Quack’s substitute position, didn’t I?
“And what is that, Professor?” Sexy light honey eyes drill into me. I stiffen at the sound of her dry voice saying “professor.” The way she leans back into the wall, juts her hips out, and bends one leg in those heels makes me want to abandon my idea and take all risks instead. However, I need that Professor of the Year nomination, and there’s no way I’ll ever get it if anyone finds out about this.
I let out a big sigh. “If you feel comfortable—but only if you feel comfortable, Sabine—you could show me what you do when you’re alone.” I watch the inflections of her facial expressions change, as she considers this. Every shadow, from fear to nervousness to trepidation and excitement, flits across her perfect doll face. “I won’t touch you. I’ll only watch the way you touch yourself. From a safe distance.”
There’s no distance truly safe enough from me right now, but it’s worth a shot.
Finally, she opens her mouth to speak, running a fingertip along the opening of the bottle. “I think I’d like that, Professor, but I have to warn you—I feel silly when I masturbate.”
That makes perfect sense given her situation.
“You’re not allowed to feel silly.” I smile. “This is all about learning.”
Her eyes linger on me a moment, then she sets down her beer and softly takes my hand, sending chills through me. She leads me to the living room in such a sweet way, I can’t help but feel for her. Not pity, just sympathy so extreme, I’ll go to any lengths to help. My head begins to hand over the reins to my cock, a dangerous thing if I don’t keep my distance.
Above all, I’m a man first. This will be extremely tough.
In front of my leather armchair, she stops and pushes me into it. I marvel at the endless legs and curvy shape in front of me. For a girl so unsure of her sexuality, she’s confident as hell. Sexy as fuck creature. Then again, she might be tipsy and shedding her fear. I could watch her walk around the house in those heels all day.
“Good seat for observing,” I tell her, crossing one leg over my knee. “If you don’t want me talking, I won’t. But if you need—”
“I want you to talk to me, Professor.” Taking a seat on the sofa’s edge, she angles and lifts one foot onto it. The other stays on the floor, the dress suspended between her legs, and she holds this kitten pose, exposing nothing and everything at the same time. “Tell me what I should do. Like I said, I always feel ridiculous. Teach me, Professor. Please.”
Damn.
With a plea like that? How can I resist her? We’re really doing this. She doesn’t know how to begin—which gives me full control. Spreading my knees comfortably, I roll up my sleeves, sit back, and hunker down for a good show. “Alright then, close your eyes.”
5
SABINE
I can’t believe I’m going through with this.
I can’t believe I’m sitting on the professor’s sofa at his house about to get a lesson on how to masturbate. Nobody told me Human Sexuality would come with a lab! The problem is I rarely touch myself anymore. I used to, when I was gung-ho on trying the toys, but I always felt stupid when I failed. So, now the toys collect dust, and I usually lie in bed with nothing to look at, wondering if I should resort to porn. My problem with porn is that I feel like it ruins relationships.
Then again, it could save relationships.
Then again, Part II, who needs porn when you have DR. MACKENZIE watching you with his all-knowing blue eyes from his armchair like Master of All Things Orgasmic? Knees apart, beer poised on the armrest, other hand shaped like an L pressed against his cheek. His observation stance. I can’t look straight at him or I’ll get embarrassed. Good thing he asks me to close my eyes first.
My heartbeat consumes me, pounds in my ears and throat. This is easily the craziest thing I’ve ever done. But I’m going through with it. Because, no risk—no payoff.
“That’s it, close your eyes. Now, think about something you love feeling,” his silky deep voice cuts through the room. It’s taken on a deep, darker tone that makes my groin tighten. Getting turned on has never been my problem. “A back massage, fingers through your hair, foot massage…”
“I love foot massages,” I say, imagining the professor giving me one right now. I stretch my leg out further and lean back. I know it’s an unladylike way to sit, but it must be done, and the thought of him watching me expose more of my upper thighs turns me on even more.
“Good, I love them too.” He sighs deeply and releases his breath slowly. This must be hard for him as well, but we’re doing great. I push away the guilt I had yesterday when I first asked him to be my surrogate. Yes, it was risky, but I’m desperate, and Dr. MacKenzie can help. He could’ve said no, but he didn’t. He wants this as much as you do. “Sabine, you’re beautiful. You know that?”
I smile but it’s a sad one. “I guess so.”
“Not you guess so. You are. You’re gorgeous. You’re young, you’re beautiful, your legs are toned, smooth, and perfect, your face is a perfect porcelain doll’s…your ass is perfect,” he chuckles. I open my eyes to see him smiling a big, naughty grin. That makes my core muscles contract even more. I love seeing a good man’s dirty side.
“Thank you.” I close them again and relive those words. Your ass is perfect. A flood of warmth and wetness surges out of me, and I’m starting to feel light-headed, like a heavy veil is being lifted off. Like I’m floating somewhere peaceful. It’s odd,
because even though I just met him, I already trust him.
“I’m serious. It’s unbelievable how sexy you are. I would’ve never guessed you were having any problems.” I hear his every shallow breath, the ones he’s fighting to control. The fact that I’m affecting, not an immature college boy, but a grown man, becomes an even bigger turn-on. A hot-ass older man like Dr. MacKenzie is weak right now. Because of me.
The playing field has evened.
“Feel your thighs, Sabine. Feel how smooth they are. Imagine my hands touching them, running along their length.”
“Yes, Professor…” I slide my hands along my legs, feeling the taut muscles then sliding them back up, bringing some of my dress skirt with me, exposing more. Higher.
His voice becomes darker, more laced with lust. “That’s it. Now, take one hand and feel your breast for me. Squeeze it. Leave the other one where it is…” Keep lifting the dress’s hem, he means. So he can see more of what’s underneath. I’m into this. I want to show him what I’ve got.
“Yes, Professor.” He doesn’t know how much I appreciate him guiding me. It takes the pressure off of performing, off knowing what I’m supposed to do when I don’t. I slide one hand up my body and cup my breast through my dress, squeezing, lifting, letting it go. I do it again.
“Your nipple’s getting harder. Do you feel it?”
“Yes.”
“Pinch it.”
I do as he says and pinch my nipple through my bra, squeezing the whole breast again, lifting it, and letting it fall. I do this several times. My other hand pushes up what’s left of my dress and begins to slide into my panties. I’ve grown so wet, it has to show. He has to be seeing the flood of desire he’s caused. What does he think? I push away the mortification threatening to creep into my cheeks.
“You’re so wet, Sabine. That’s an incredible turn-on. You know that, don’t you?” the professor says. “If I could, I’d slide my fingers into you and feel it. Men love to see women open their legs when they’re getting hot. It shows how much they want us. Don’t be shy, Sabine. Show me how wet you are.”
God. The professor is slaying me. The beer has loosened him up too, and now I’m alone with this lustful, sexier creature, more daring than he was earlier, yesterday, or even the day before. It reminds me of how gentlemen are just wolves any way you look at it. They only learn to control their lust around you.
Taking a deep breath to keep from passing out, I bite my lip and prepare to do the unthinkable. Slowly, I slide my panties off, opening my eyes for a moment to work them off the rest of the way, not bothering to take off my heels, because I know the professor would love me to leave them on. Then I look at him.
The expression on his face is a mix of amusement, adoration, and pure need. One thing I love—he doesn’t lose it. He doesn’t salivate or go wide-eyed or hoot catcalls like a stupid frat boy. He isn’t a boy or a guy. He’s a man—a man who’s seen it all before. A man with experience, and remembering this only makes me want to touch myself for the first time in a long time without feeling stupid.
I feel my muscles tightening inside my belly, a hurdle I gladly climb over to the next level. I’m onto the next echelon of arousal, I just know it. It’s more intense than anything I’ve ever felt, and I haven’t even touched myself yet. I’ve never gotten this far. I don’t think I’ll be staying in the plateau phase tonight—a thought which excites and terrifies me at the same time.
“That’s it, Sabine. Show me your world. Show me that sweet, twenty-year-old pussy.”
Oh, my God. Dr. MacKenzie, the picture of professionalism at school, has just uttered the word pussy. What’s more, he recognizes how my being young turns him on. Everyone, no matter how polite they are on the outside, has a dark side, and I’m only beginning to see his. My fingertips graze my hot skin, sliding up my slick folds and rest on my clit which feels engorged and on the verge of something.
And that’s when I know, without a doubt, that it’s going to happen. Sometime tonight.
A well of tears threatens to rise, but I can’t cry. I hate being weak. Hate being scared of the unknown. Which is why I need to be prepared for everything. Study for everything. Assess everything. Why can’t I ever just go with the fucking flow? Most of all, I hate that as much as I’ve wanted orgasms all this time, now that I feel one coming on, my inner self fights it.
What is wrong with me?
“Like this, Professor?” I urge myself to keep going. Don’t stop.
“Yes. Keep squeezing your tits for me, Sabine. They’re so ripe, so fucking perfect, I wish I could suck on them—you just don’t know. Keep touching that clit, rub it in slow circles,” he says. I can hear him getting closer. He must be on the edge of his seat. “Rub it diagonally. Rub it however the fuck you like. Do whatever makes you feel good, Sabine. You’re powerful, and you know it. You have no idea how amazing you look from here. How much I want you…how much any man would want you if they could see you right now.”
I try. I try feeling what he feels, believing in his words, that I am powerful, but something won’t let me surrender. Right as I feel the first of my tears betraying me, the sofa depresses on the opposite end. I open my eyes and see him sitting there, leaning back, just watching, still without any intention of touching me. Except for one hand. On one foot. “Just taking off your shoe, Sabine,” he says. “If that’s alright.”
“You can take off whatever you want, Professor.” He could touch everything right now, and I wouldn’t care. The whole reason I didn’t cancel tonight even though I couldn’t find a willing partner is because I was hoping Dr. MacKenzie would do it himself. I guess that means I seduced him. I seduced my college professor.
Great, now guilt seeps into my brain.
“If I could, hon, I would.” Slowly, he slides the shoe off my foot and tosses it aside. “Trust me. You don’t know how much I want to touch you, show you how this is done. You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
I do trust him. I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my life. Maybe it’s intuition or me being naïve, but I know he cares about me. And didn’t Dr. MacKenzie say that trust was important? Did I not trust Glenn before? Do I not trust myself now? Why is it different this time?
The buildup of pressure I felt in my lower belly before has diminished but only slightly. I sigh and try focusing again, batting away any negative thoughts. Now that the professor is holding onto my foot, giving me the strongest, most sensuous foot massage I’ve ever had, this should be easy. “Does this feel good? Or is it distracting?” he whispers.
“It feels good.”
“Good. Anytime something feels good, I want you to tell me.”
“Okay.”
His changed, huskier voice instructs me. I swoon at the thought of him telling me what to do again. “Take one of your fingers and slide it inside your pussy. You’re not a virgin, are you?”
“No, but I may as well be.” I laugh but it’s a nervous laugh. I need to relax.
This time, I decide to open my eyes. Not having a clear visual hasn’t helped. Maybe I’m like most men—I need a visual, too.
I open them and look straight at Professor MacKenzie. His ruggedly handsome face, his sexy, trimmed beard, his Clark Kent glasses, his perfect teeth and that secretive smile. He knows where all this is leading. He has all the answers to the universe but he’s going to have fun watching me figure them out. His thumb presses circles into the ball of my foot while his other hand squeezes my heel, sore from my shoes.
“That feels so good,” I tell him again, because he told me to.
“Good…” He lifts my foot and plants a slow, deliberate kiss on the side. Holy shit, the man’s beautiful lips have touched my skin. He could have anyone, anyone at all. But he’s here with me. “Now, slide your finger in, Sabine. Feel how wet you are.”
I do as he says and slide my finger in, pulling it out, then pushing it in again, fingering myself. Then, I add another finger. My belly squeezes again, as my heartbeat races
. I wish it was him doing this. I imagine it is him. His gaze holds me from across the sofa, then he takes his glasses off, and now he’s a whole new person. A sexier being than before, if that was possible. My legs widen. Now, I’m fully exposed, showing him my world, like he said, and he has the best view in the house. I’ve never felt more vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
“Yes, Sabine. Keep doing what you’re doing. Open up to me more. Show me that glistening, sweet pussy. Look at how hard you’ve got me.” His hand, resting slightly over his full bulge, lifts off. I see the outline of his cock pushing through the denim, big and thick and curving to the left.
Oh, my God…
It’s almost too much. Just knowing he’s hot and thirsty for me pushes me to finger myself deeper. I bring my other hand down to rub myself. I try not to think about how exposed I am, how ridiculous I probably look, because that’s someone else talking. Someone I’m trying to shed, someone more prim and proper, but not me. Not me.
“You’re young and alive and beautiful and you’re making me want you, Sabine.”
“Yes…” I want him too. I wish he could climb between my legs and fuck me. Fuck me so hard, I can feel that massive cock filling me good and deep. The thought pushes me to another level, one so high, I’ve never felt it before, and I know I’m on the verge. But the tears come again, because maybe I wanted this too much and now that it’s here, I’m not sure what to do.
Maybe I’ve built this up in my brain too much.
“Sabine, you’re doing perfect. You’re so fucking sexy. Damn.” The professor’s grip on my foot is hard. It channels his energy, the one I wish he’d spill into me. “You’re going to come, Sabine. That’s my girl…”
My girl. God, his words. His eyes, his whole masculine aura. Knowing that I’m his girl, even for a moment frozen in time, is enough to send me over the edge.
