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“I want to see you cum again,” he said roughly. “Will you let me?”
“Yes.” Her reply was soft but swift, no fucking hesitation at all because it seemed she was stupid enough to trust him with everything.
“Then start with your breasts, darling. Pull your dress down until they spill free.”
Her trembling fingers followed his command, her boobs bouncing out a moment later: pale, perfectly shaped, and crowned with pretty-in-pink nipples.
It was a tormentingly beautiful sight, and a hiss escaped him. “Yes.” God, yes. “Now pinch them the way you want me to pinch them.” His conscience made one last-ditch effort to save him, telling him he was taking too much of a risk, but he shut his ears to it. “Imagine it’s my fingers pinching them.” He was being careful, dammit. There wasn’t any flesh-to-flesh contact, was there? It was all safe. Nothing like the fucking past was going to happen.
So shut the fuck up, conscience.
The professor looked down, and he swallowed hard at seeing her breasts now swollen with need.
God.
If only he had the fucking right to take her breasts into his mouth. But because he couldn’t, he sought to distract himself, his fingers curling around his dick, stroking just enough to keep it from going crazy and overruling his brain.
When he heard Diana start to pant, he knew she needed more to push her over the edge, and he was more than happy to teach her the way. “Have you ever fingered yourself, Diana?”
A silent, jerky shake of her dark head, and he nearly exploded at what it meant.
Ah God, this just made him the luckiest and unluckiest bastard all at the same time.
“Would you like to try while I watch?”
He saw her teeth sink into her lower lip, and just when he was convinced it meant she would refuse, he heard her say shakily, “If you want me to.”
“I do. Badly.”
“Then…yes.” She released her left breast and her fingers slowly moved down.
“You don’t need to worry about anything,” he said hoarsely. “Just one finger will do. Just to open you up and make it ready when it’s my dick turn.” He heard her breath catch at the mention of his dick, and his strokes automatically jerked faster. “You like thinking of my dick going inside of you?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Me, too, darling.”
“Then why—”
“Because it’s not the right time yet.” And it never would be, but she didn’t have to know that. “Now, let’s get that finger wet…” This time, it was her whole body that shook, and he bit back a groan at how fucking sensitive she was.
“Show me how you get it wet…” And she did, pushing her dress all the way up until her moist, quivering cunt was bared to his sight.
And God, what a fucking pretty sight it was.
“One finger first.”
Her middle finger hovered over her slit.
“Up and down, darling. That’s how you stroke it. Slowly.”
And because she had submission down pat, she did exactly as instructed, and it had his balls aching so damn hard he knew he only had minutes left before his orgasm hit him.
“Now, push it inside slowly…”
He saw the head of her finger disappear, and he growled, “Yes. Exactly like that. Deeper now.”
She moaned as she went knuckle deep, and he groaned with her.
“It’s too much,” Diana gasped.
“Then pull it out…”
Another moan.
“Push it back in.”
More moans.
And this time, her body began to undulate, her breasts swinging and her hips squirming on the chair.
“You know how it is,” he rasped. “Do it as fast and hard as you want.”
And so her finger thrust in and out faster and harder, and her moans turned into helpless panting.
“Yes, just like that.”
Diana moaned, and his strokes quickened.
“P-Professor…”
“Yes,” he growled. “GOD, YES.”
She screamed as she came, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Mijn obsessie.
And a dark stain spread over his jeans as he climaxed right behind her.
Her
It Must Have Been Love by Kathleen Edwards
Diana wondered if people could tell how happy she was, just by looking at her.
She didn’t think so, but neither did she think she was imagining the way she was attracting more glances than usual. And since her looks or taste in fashion hadn’t changed in any way, then…it was that, wasn’t it?
People could tell how much being with the professor was making her happy.
Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach, and she had an actively hard time resisting the urge to skip and clap her heels together for the rest of her short walk to the university’s civic hall. In keeping with the university’s Neo Gothic theme, the structure also boasted of turrets and spires and Helder Meer’s ever-present (mascot) gargoyle. Past its majestic front doors, however, the building seemed to undergo several centuries’ worth of makeover, with its sleek, industrial interiors and state-of-the-art facilities.
There was even an AI robot named Krystal manning the concierge, and it was like having a ten-year-old version of Siri to interact with as she keyed in her ID number and explained (verbally) what she was there for.
