Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell

by Lexi Maxxwell

  I was officially wet.

  “Best of all,” Carl continued, “You write like you speak, which is both easier and harder than most writers realize. Most people edit themselves as they write, finding the perfect way to articulate their thoughts, rather than saying things like they would in conversation. Seems to me like it’s instinct for you, which puts you well ahead of most writers in the class. You strike me as the sort of girl who could do anything she wanted, but I’d strongly suggest you give writing the old college try.”

  Carl’s smile was kind. I shook my head, believing his every word. “I really appreciate what you’re saying, but I don’t feel like living life as a starving artist. I don’t want to clock the hours I need to be the next Nora Roberts. I want to make money and have fun, there are plenty of careers where I can do well without all the struggle.”

  “Writing is one of them,” he said. “Believe it or not, Autumn, the world has changed. Writers have more power than ever before, and self publishing doesn’t have the stink it used to. I’m not saying that’s what you should do, but I am saying you’d be foolish not to look into it.” He stared into my eyes and added, “Don’t you want to find out if you’re one of the world’s next great writers?”

  I did, and I wanted him bad – both for making me wet, and making me want it.

  “You’re wife’s a lucky lady,” I said.

  He chuckled lightly, then said, “I’m not married.”

  There was a brief pause when I considered saying nothing. Just thanking Carl for his time and promising to show up for every class and apply myself to the final day. But my quiet longing for writing was suddenly there at the surface. If the professor was right, then he might have changed my life by helping me believe in a future I didn’t know was possible. For that alone, I wanted to make love to him. Sure, there was the animal lust that wanted to feel the bone from an Eric Bana body double, but I genuinely wanted to thank Carl in the best way I knew how.

  I almost said nothing.

  Instead, I decided to give Carl the thing he loved most in my writing: total honesty.

  I said, “I want you inside me, Carl. I want you to make love to me. Even if it’s only in this room, and only this one time and never again. I want you. I’ve never had sex with a teacher before, and swore I never would. You already said I was an A student. I’m not interested in the grade, I’m interested in you. I’ll be the happiest girl on campus if you’ll let me do some naughty things to you.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “I’ll let you do some naughty things to me right back.” I smiled at the shock on his face, then made my final offer.

  “Stand up, Carl. If you’re not hard, I’ll leave your office right now. I’ll shut the door and never return. I’ll even stay out of class so neither of us are embarrassed. But if you stand and I can see the line of your giggle stick, you’ll have to let me relieve it. Deal?”

  Carl answered by standing to his full six foot plus height so I could see the tall tent in his pants from his healthy sized hard on. Between his words of encouragement and the taboo of fucking a teacher, I’d left wet a while back and was well on my way to soaking.

  The reserved professor was no longer reserved. He fled his end of the desk and took my mouth in his, kissing me hard. I squealed and pushed my body into his, feeling the thick of his cock against the skin of my leg. I reached down, stroking his shaft through slacks. His fingers were in my hair and mouth everywhere on my neck.

  “Oh God,” I gasped. This felt GOOD.

  His hands moved to my nipples, grazing erasers through the gauze of my shirt. I started to moan and he pushed himself harder into me. He pulled away, said, “I’ll be back,” then went to the door and locked it. I took off my top. He returned and lowered my skirt to the floor, then my panties, kissing my ankles as they slipped through the holes. He turned me around and unclasped my bra from the back. It fell to the floor as his hands cupped the swell of my tits.

  We moaned together and he fell back in the chair, pulling me on top of him, naked. He fondled my tits as I rubbed my ass all over his dick. I could feel the fat of his shaft between my cheeks, pressing against me through his pants.

  “It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.” I got off his body and said, “You can’t put it inside me if it’s hidden away.”

  As soon as Carl was standing, I unbuttoned his shirt, surprised to find a muscular chest, framed by thick arms and broad shoulders. He must’ve loved the look on my face. “Do you like what you see?”

  I answered by putting a nipple in my mouth.

  I set my hand on his shoulders, then stood on my toes, so I could nibble at the lobes of his ears. “What do you want to do with me?” I whispered. “I’m totally yours.”

  Professor Chambers scooped me in his arms and carried me across the room to the couch, where he laid me down, dropped to his knees and spread my legs.

  He started to tease me, gently running his fingers along the line of my slit, knowing I wanted him inside me from the sight of my leaking oil, but elongating the moment to its perfect length, like a well told story.

  I pleaded for more, begged him to enter me, but he wouldn’t. He lowered his head and put his hot mouth against my hungry hole instead. His lips wrapped around mine and he sucked my nub, hard, pounding my body with waves of unstoppable pleasure. I imagined how every lecture from now on would flood my cunt as I imagined writhing hard against the leather of his couch.

  “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!”

  I couldn't stop screaming. He slapped his hand over my mouth. “You can’t do that,” he almost growled.

  The next thing I knew, Carl was slipping two fingers inside me, curling them like a comma until they were pressed hard against my G-Spot. I bucked hard against the back of the couch, smothering my moans and smearing his couch. His mouth returned to my clit, sucking it harder as my nails raked red ravines down the length of his back.

  His lips went from my mound to a trail of kisses that went up my side, across my breasts, and under my neck before ending at my mouth. His fingers fucked me into multiple orgasms as he stifled my screams with his tongue.

  I stopped shuddering, dropped to my knees, cupped his balls, and took him in my mouth, slipping my lips over the head of his cock as I wrapped my fingers around the base.

  I was sucking his dick and loving it, feeling the swollen throb between my cheeks, and imagining the warmth of the burst that would flood my mouth.

  I looked up to see Carl in nirvana. Normally guys love it when I’m on my knees with their dick hanging out of my mouth. The show is part of the performance. The professor was lost in the moment, head tilted and staring at the ceiling as he thrust and bucked and moaned far louder than I was allowed to.

  I knew he wanted to cum in my mouth, and I wanted to give it to him, but every throb of his cock made me want him inside me more.

  He plopped from my mouth and whimpered. “Why did you stop?”

  “Because I need you inside me.” I shimmied back on the couch and spread my legs wide. “Can’t you see what you’ve done to me?” I took the palm of my hand and slapped it against my pussy, petting the fat of my lips before raising my hand in the air to show him the glisten of my palm.

  Carl needed no more convincing. His eyes were on fire and he was inside me seconds later, entering with a frictionless thrust.

  He pulsed inside me, pushing himself as deep as he could go, fucking me hard and pushing me into the leather. I bucked my hips and bit my lip to keep from screaming. He reached down and started rubbing my clit. I growled, “Stop it or I’ll fucking scream.” He kept rubbing anyway, but took his hand from my cunt and slapped it over my mouth, just as I started to loudly moan.

  I bit his hand and he grunted, pushing himself into me harder.

  “Okay, Ms. Cole, I’m about to cum!”

  The way he said it, with my formal name, it was almost too much. I wrapped my legs around him, clenching my cunt muscles. I tried to scream, FUCK YES!” on repeat, th
ough I doubt that’s what it sounded like considering I didn’t have the breath to say it.

  He tensed, groaned, “OH MY FUCKING LORD UP IN HEAVEN” then filled me with fluid and probably ruined his couch. We collapsed together, breathing for several minutes as our four hands traced two bodies.

  “That was amazing,” he said.

  “Some of the best ever,” I agreed.

  That made him pull me closer to him. “Will we ever do this again?”

  I said, “I can’t wait.”

  Professor Chambers was the first person to tell me I was an amazing writer, at least the first person who mattered. We had sex several more times, until Carl eventually called it off. He saw the danger. I’m not a snitch, no way, so I don’t think he thought I’d tell on him, but I think he was thinking about me way too much.

  I thought about him a lot, too. And I’ve never really stopped, though I don’t think about him the way I used to. Not really, not anymore. Now I have Sam to occupy those thoughts. But I think about him often when I write, and always remember what he said:

  Your writing is like a well worn skirt: just long enough to cover what’s important, but short enough to keep things interesting. And it always makes me long for more.

  My stories with Professor Chambers, Carl, are some of my best, just like our sex.

  I can’t wait to tell you more another time.

  XXX

  Fucking the Babysitter

  Yes, as cliche as it is, I got fucked when I was a babysitter.

  Not a lot, but enough for a few good stories, including the one I’m about to tell you right now, which I love so much that I still pull it out every once in a while – like a dildo in my drawer – when I’m alone and horny and wanting to fuck myself into a long scream that splits into seventy.

  I’d been baby-sitting for the Nicholson Family since I was fifteen. I loved them, and their son, Michael. They were a great family who seemed to have it all and do everything right. The dad, James, was a smoking hot lawyer – totally my type before I even had one; tall, with dark brown hair and broad shoulders. Though I liked his wife when I was fifteen, by the time I’d been babysitting for two years I knew she was a stupid bitch.

  I used to like Natalie Nicholson a lot, but that was before the Nicholsons started constantly fighting, about a year or so before they finally got a divorce. Their relationship was so toxic that by the time James finally moved out, I could practically smell the sour between them as I pulled my Civic into their driveway.

  The final night I ever babysat at their house up on Honeycutt Road, rather than at James’ sweet ass apartment in the city, was the night when I first got flirty with little Michael’s dad.

  It was totally innocent at first. Yes, I’d already been fucking for a while, and yes, the thought of James plowing into my sloppy pie was enough to melt my butter, but really I was only trying to pull him up from the gutter where it seemed like that bitch cunt Natalie had been happy to put him.

  Natalie was one of those women who thought their man couldn’t do anything right, though he must have been doing everything well enough since he was paying for her lifestyle 100%. James wasn’t just a lawyer, judging by everything from his Brooks Brothers to his Porsche, he was a damn good one. Natalie, it seemed, was best at looking hot, spending his money, and being a bitch. She was always harping on him about this and that and everything else, though that’s not actually why they got a divorce. I’ll get to that part later.

  That last night she was going out with some friends, and James had to go to a last minute meeting with a client flying in from San Francisco. There was nothing he could do to get out of it, so he called me and I said, “Sure.”

  When I arrived, he was nearly on his way out the door. Even though James was always slightly shy around me, I imagined he was quite an authority once he stepped into the courtroom, which of course, turned me way the fuck on. Now I know the man is animal, at least with his pants down.

  He seemed especially flustered, though more than anything, he looked beaten.

  I said, “You look really great in that suit.”

  He looked down instead of in my eyes and said, “Thanks.”

  I wanted more, or at least didn’t want him to leave just yet, so I said, “I know I’m probably not supposed to say this, but you look super hot.” I smiled.

  James was a gentleman and I was still seventeen, so he changed the subject and told me that Michael’s dinner was already in the fridge and just had to be heated, and that he would be back home no later than 11:00.

  I told him to take his time, and that I’d happily wait for him to come home whenever. He half-smiled, then I asked about Mrs. Nicholson. He said she would be home probably a bit after him. I told him good luck on his dinner, and that I was sure he was great at his job, along with a few other things I’m sure Natalie never said.

  He looked up at me with these giant sad eyes, then stole a glance at my awesome tits, called a loud goodbye to Michael and stepped from the door. I heard the purr of his Porsche a few seconds later, and wondered if he and Natalie would actually get a divorce, and how long it would be before I could get him to fuck me after that. Surely I’d be 18 by then.

  Like usual, Michael and I had a great time together. I’ve always loved kids, and Michael was especially bright, which made him a lot of fun to play games with. Michael liked games like Blokus and Race to the Treasure instead of the usual Uno and Connect Four crap I played with almost every other kid I sat.

  We ate dinner, played games, then watched Ratatouille until Michael fell asleep.

  James came home at 10:30 and man did I want to fuck him. I could tell he wanted to fuck me, too. He was smiling wider and laughing louder, slightly tipsy and all the more handsome for his inebriation. I would have happily bent over the sofa, pulled my panties past my ankles, and let him shove his dick into whatever hole would make him happiest.

  But I knew it would be a mistake. I didn’t want him to fuck me just because he was drunk, I didn’t want him to fuck me before I turned 18 since I knew he was a lawyer and that would bother the shit out of him, and I didn’t want to fuck him before he got his divorce, since the last thing I ever wanted to be to anyone was a regret.

  Three months later I turned 18, another month after that and I was saying goodbye to James again, this time from his super sweet apartment – awesome view, though mostly empty of everything save for a few spare pieces of furniture.

  He wasn’t even gone from the house before I was letting him know how badly I wanted to fuck him, stopping short at saying, “You know, James, my hotbox is so overheated, I bet you could fuck it with your fatty and still fit three or four of your fingers inside me.”

  Instead I said, “So what are you doing tonight? Another meeting with a client?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m going on a date.”

  “A date?” I’m not the jealous type at all, so I hated that a felt a little jealous.

  “Yeah,” he looked embarrassed. “It’s the first one since the divorce.”

  “It’s final now?”

  He nodded.

  “How do you feel?”

  He smiled, then laughed. “Relieved.”

  I felt a pleasant flush in my cunt from the warmth in his voice.

  “I never thought I’d get divorced, but it was the right thing to do and I’m glad it’s over.”

  I wanted to ask why, but didn’t want to pry, so I said, “It didn’t seem like she was very nice to you.”

  He shook his head, “No, she wasn’t.”

  “I would’ve divorced her, too,” I said lightly laughing. “Your spouse should always speak to you with respect. My dad and mom are always nice to one another, at least like 97.2% of the time. And I’m glad. I feel like they taught me what to expect from a relationship.” I made sure my voice was low enough so that he couldn’t hear since he was just one room over. “Just think about Michael. You’re teaching him what is and isn’t okay in a relationship, right?”


  I loved the way James looked at me when he said, “You know, Autumn, you’re totally right. And I never would have thought of that until you said it. So thanks.” He patted his hand against my shoulder and sent another warm flush to my cunt.

  “Are you nervous about your date?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, totally. But I’m ready.”

  “Is Mrs. Nicholson dating?”

  A sneer swallowed his face. “Mrs. Nicholson has been dating for a while.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “I could put up with her being a bitch. But I couldn’t put up with her cheating on me all over the city, and using my money to do it.”

  There was an awkward silence, and I could tell we both wanted to say more, but then James put on his jacket, grabbed his keys, called out a final farewell to Michael, then turned to me and said, “I’ll be home no later than 12:00.”

  “I’m always willing to wait up for you, James,” I said, using his first name for the first time. He smiled, then left.

  “So what do you want to do first?” I called to Michael.

  Like usual, Michael had his agenda mapped for the two of us – the centerpiece an after dinner game of hide-n-seek. I have no idea if James would have ended up plowing me from behind had it not been for the game, but two minutes into hide-n-seek and I knew that shit was a certainty.

  Michael was counting to 50, because he said 20 wasn’t long enough to hide in a house that didn’t have a lot of furniture. I slipped into James’ office, on my way to his closet, when I stopped halfway to stare at his computer, brightly lit with an open browser on my Facebook page.

  Holy shit, James had been looking me up!

  I checked the other tabs, and sure enough, one was a Google Image search for me and the other just a general search. I was suddenly hotter than Hell, thinking about James jacking his shaft while picturing it inside my pussy.