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When she finally lets go, I fill my empty lungs with air and catch my breath again. Being on the verge of suffocation so many times has made me lightheaded, euphoric. I never understood auto-erotic asphyxiation before, but I’m starting to get it now.
Strings of her cum drip onto the floor. Normally I’d lick her clean, but we’ll need that lubrication for what I have in store for her.
I sit on the couch. “Ride me,” I tell her. “I want to see your tits bounce and watch your face the next time I make you cum.
Before she climbs on my lap, she puts on a little show, bending over, spreading her ass cheeks, looking over her shoulder to watch my reaction. I immediately reach for my dick and start to stroke it. She turns around to face me, climbs onto the couch, standing over me with one foot on either side of my hips. Again she spreads herself, her pussy this time, making it gape. It’s a small gape, but enough for me to take a glimpse inside. I have to stop touching myself before I cum.
She squats over me, her ass hovering in the air a moment before she sits, spearing herself on my prick. She holds onto my shoulders for leverage and slowly begins her ride.
I feel the surface of her vaginal wall with the tip of my dick. She can’t go any further. She’s taken as much as she can, and yet there’s still roughly three inches of cock still exposed. She tries to push herself further, and somehow there’s a little more give, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m about to fuck her cervix. There’s a definite tightness there, but it feels amazing, and so I let her do what she wants to do. She knows her body. She can make these calls.
Her mouth opens and whimpers spill out.
“It hurts,” she says, and yet doesn’t try to release the pressure by easing up. Her legs start to shake. “But it feels so good at the same time.”
Just when I start to fear that I’m about to stab through her womb, she sits up until only the head of my dick is still inside of her, then impales herself again. She does this over and over until I can’t take anymore.
I grab her hips one last time and thrust hard and deep inside of her until I explode.
She screams, her body writhing and twisting. Her pussy strangles my cock as her orgasm rips through her with brutal force. Until she finally collapses against my chest.
We sit like this a while, spent and useless. Me, running my fingers through her sweaty hair, while she trails delicate kisses along my jawline. Not talking, just being here together in silence. It’s not uncomfortable one bit. Just the opposite. I’ve never been this comfortable with anyone in my life.
A half hour passes when suddenly I get my second wind. I’m still inside of her, growing hard again as I lift both of us off the couch. Her legs wrap around me and she giggles, trying to hold on. I carry her upstairs for round two.
9
Georgia
In the morning, Loche and I are awake before either of our alarms go off. Even after several rounds, we’re not exhausted enough to sleep through the anxiety we both face. I’m wrapped up in his arms. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay like this, in the comfort and safety of him forever. But I have to figure out a way to get Dean Meyer not to can Loche and take away my scholarship.
When I try to leave, Loche holds tighter. “I have to go,” I say, smiling as he grumbles.
“Let’s just forget about everything and stay here. We can watch movies and eat junk food and pretend we’re not adults.”
“As amazing as that sounds, you know we can’t. I’m gonna call a cab.”
“Let me take you back to the dorm,” he says.
“It’s too risky. I don’t want anyone to see us.” His midnight-black Camaro with black rims and a V8 that can wake the dead isn’t exactly subtle.
“Fine,” he says, and finally releases me from his grip. “But find me later.”
“I’ll see you in class this afternoon.”
The thin smile on his face makes me think there might not be a class this afternoon.
Before my first class starts, I make an appointment to see Dean Meyer. I’m sitting in the waiting area with his secretary, going over a rough argument I prepared. It’s difficult to focus with the clack, clack, clack of acrylic nails on the keyboard as the secretary speed-types.
Every time I look up at the clock, five minutes have passed. I’ve been sitting here twenty minutes so far. I just want to get this over with. Another five and I’ll be late for English. I might even have to miss it. I’ve never missed a class before. Not for illness or any other reason.
The phone rings. His secretary answers it and continues to type at the same time. Finally, she puts down the phone, looks at me, and says, “He’ll see you now.”
I go into the dean’s office. No one else comes out. Twenty minutes. What the hell was he doing in his room alone for twenty minutes? Maybe he heard it was me here to see him and he just wanted to make me squirm. Well, it worked. Blood rushes in my ears and my heart is like a caged animal thrashing in my chest.
This is too much. It’s more grownup than anything I’ve had to deal with since graduating high school. I want to walk away and forget everything. The only thing keeping me grounded is knowing I’m doing this for Loche. I’d do anything for him.
“Shut the door behind you,” Dean Meyer says. He sits behind an imposing desk. On top of it are pictures of his wife and grown children placed in matching gold frames.
He stacks a pile of loose papers in front of him. The task seems more important to him than giving me his full attention. Funny how I used to really admire this guy, but now that my scholarship and Loche’s job are on the line, I’m looking for the horns and pitchfork hiding beneath that very obvious rug on his head.
Folding my hands in my lap, I say, “I wanted to talk to you about what you saw at the restaurant last night.”
Not that what he saw could be misconstrued as anything but what it was. I’m going to tell the truth, for the most part. I think that’s best. But in the hours between when I got back to my dorm this morning and sitting here, I read the entire manual on student conduct. I will inform him that there are no definitive rules stating that a teacher cannot date an adult student. It’s only frowned upon when it comes to ethics and morals. Unfortunately, by me pointing this out, I’ll be saying Loche doesn’t have those qualities that this particular school finds important enough to make as their motto. But, not having those things is not grounds to terminate his job. Especially if that student will no longer be attending that school.
The thought of leaving fills me with such a deep sadness, my vision starts to turn gray. I shake my head and square my shoulders, pulling myself together. I need to stay strong or I will never get through this without breaking down, and I refuse to cry or appear weak in front of this man.
Before I can say another word on the matter, Dean Meyer stops me and says, “There’s no need. Mr. Johnson already came to speak with me this morning.”
“He did . . .” I say, hanging off the edge of my seat.
“He resigned from his position.”
“What?” I say, voice rising. “He can’t do that. This wasn’t his fault.”
The dean stops what he’s doing and looks at me with eyebrows raised. “He did it to save your scholarship. As I’m sure you’ve probably read in the manual of conduct, students on scholarship can be released for any reason that might jeopardize the moral or ethical reputation of this establishment. While it does have to go in front of a board for vote before that can happen, I’m fairly certain having an affair with a teacher will fall under that category. You’re welcome to roll the dice, Georgia, but Mr. Johnson fought to save your scholarship. I think he’d be highly disappointed if he threw himself under the bus for nothing.”
“But—” I start to say when Dean Meyer interrupts.
“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to protect him, because he had that same look on his face when he came in here to protect you. I gave him the option to either end his relationship with yo
u or leave his job. He chose to leave. Let it go.”
I close my mouth. It’s been hanging open this whole time.
“Good day,” the dean says. “Please close the door on your way out.”
Unable to get words out, I stand and walk out of his room and close the door. His secretary watches me leave, no doubt hearing everything.
I still can’t believe Loche would rather leave his job than end his relationship with me. That’s more than a fling. I know that I love him, but I’d had my doubts about his feelings toward me. Until now. I need to find him. Find out what happened. See how he’s doing. This can’t be easy for him. You don’t just fill out an application and hand it over to a manager to get a job as a professor as a prestigious university. That takes time, money, commitment. He must be devastated. I have to be there for him.
I go to his house, ditching my classes for the day. It’s probably the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done in my life—well, besides sleeping with my teacher. But I’m sure the world won’t stop and my grades won’t plummet for missing one day.
I take a cab to his house. When I get there, he’s sitting on the porch swing with his borrowed cat curled up on his lap. Loche smiles when he sees me.
“What did you do?” I say, trying to sound firm, but my voice withers away into a pathetically sad sound.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he says.
