Her Dirty Professor (4 page)

Taking it all in, I realize just how big it is. The living room itself is three times the size of my dorm room. It’s a lot of house for just one person.

“You live here by yourself?” I ask.

He looks around and shrugs. “Yep, just me and the cat. He’s around here somewhere.”

Another surprise. I didn’t picture him as a cat person. I didn’t picture him with animals at all, but if I had to guess, I would’ve thought he’d own a bulldog or mastiff. Something macho to complement his size.

“I can’t picture you with a cat,” I say, unable to contain my smile. He’s just so incredibly adorable, and nothing like I was expecting outside of the classroom.

“He’s not mine. He just comes around when he wants food.”

“I don’t blame him,” I say, sniffing the air. “Smells good in here.”

“Good. I hope you’re hungry. I made fresh pasta.”

And he can cook? Jesus, this man is perfect.

“Starving,” I say.

He leads me to the kitchen nook. The kitchen too is just as spectacular as the rest of the house. Custom everything, including a fridge that matches the dark wood of the cabinets, glass tile back splashes, and granite countertops. I’m not much of a cook myself, but my mom would’ve sacrificed me to the nearest god for a kitchen like this when my siblings and I were growing up. She always complained about not having any counter space. The counters in here are big enough to land a plane on.

The table has already been set for two. Champagne on ice, candles lit. When he gave me his address, I was just expecting a longer version of the preview I’d seen earlier in the classroom, and most likely—if I was lucky—an awkward quickie. I’d satisfy my curiosity and that would be that. What I wasn’t expecting was a romantic dinner. Not that I’m complaining. I’m just confused about what all this means. I already told him this wasn’t a blackmail situation, so he didn’t have to go to all the trouble.

He pours the champagne. I’ve had champagne once, at a wedding. It was gross, like dry ginger ale, but worse. I try a sip. This isn’t gross, not at all. It’s sweet and tickles the back of my throat. I want to down the entire glass, but hold myself back, not wanting to be obvious about just how nervous I really am. So far I think I’m really pulling off this whole confidence thing—to the point I’m actually starting to believe it myself.

He pulls my chair out for me and I sit.

“Help yourself,” he says, pointing at the food on the table in bowls.

There’s salad, pasta with red sauce, and breadsticks that also look homemade. I take a little of each.

“You’re not one of those girls, are you?” he asks, smirking at me from across the table, the candlelight doing beautiful things with his face.

“What girls?”

“The ones who eat like birds on a date, then scarf down a pizza when they get home.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Is this a date?”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a half smile. “No.”

“Well then, no, I guess not.”

I reach over and grab a heaping spoonful of pasta and plop it down on my plate. He laughs and starts to fill his own plate.

He eats much quicker than I do. I’ve always been a slow eater ever since I choked on a Red Vine in a dark movie theater; it put the fear of God into me.

“So, Mr. Johnson,” I say, trying to fill the room with sounds other than my chewing. “Why’d you get into porn?”

His champagne glass stops on its way to his lips. I think he’s blushing but it’s too difficult to tell in the dull glow of the room. “Call me Loche,” he says. “And I did it out of necessity. I was a struggling student and I saw an opportunity to better my situation and I took it.” He looks pointedly at me over his glass.

“I know what that look is for,” I tell him. It’s so obvious that he’s suspicious, like he can’t believe I have all this information on him and all I want out of the deal is to see his dick. “I’m still not blackmailing you, so stop looking at me like I’m a criminal.”

His smile beats me over the head, leaves me breathless and incapacitated for a moment. He’s so insanely handsome. He might even be better-looking than Tom Hardy, if that’s even humanly possible, or maybe it’s just the champagne going to my head. I don’t think so, though. I think I closed myself off to men because of my workload for so long that I just forgot to look. Well, not anymore. I’m definitely looking now.

My body’s reacting, but my mind is telling me if I go too far, it’ll ruin everything. I want at least one mind-blowing porn scene of my own with him, but how will we ever go back to our student-teacher relationship after that? How can I ever look at him the same again? Things would get awkward. I’d have to switch classes and teachers. What a pain in the ass. Actually, I probably wouldn’t even be able to switch. I’m sure this far into the school year classes are full. I groan quietly enough so he doesn’t hear. I’ve really got myself in deep this time, but there’s no turning back now.

Loche stands and walks toward me. There’s something very commanding about the way he moves. Apparently his authority isn’t reserved only for the classroom.

My fork still hovers in front of my mouth, but I struggle to move, mesmerized by his every step as he gets nearer. With my empty hand, I reach for my champagne glass and chug what’s left in it.

“More?” he asks, standing right in front of me now.

I nod because words fail me. He fills the glass and I chug it too.

He breathes out silent laughter. “Am I making you nervous?”

I try to roll my eyes and laugh it off, but I have no idea what my face is doing because it’s completely numb. “What? No,” I say. He takes another step closer and my voice starts to warble. “What’s there to be nervous about?”

I have a good buzz going and a slight headache. So much for feeling confident. I shouldn’t still be this nervous.

“Are you still eating?” he asks.

I look at the fork in my hand. How could I possibly still think about food at a time like this? I put it down on my plate. He pushes it off to the side and sits on the edge of the table in front of me.

He touches my cheek, running his fingers along my jawline and caressing my bottom lip with his thumb. “Time for dessert,” he says in a low voice.

Swallowing hard, I have a feeling he’s not talking about cake.

I
t’ll be
a shame to see that dress go, but worth it to see what’s underneath. Though it’s not like it leaves much to the imagination to begin with. Georgia has an incredible figure. Nice round hips, small waist, flat stomach, and breasts just large enough for a mouthful. I never really noticed her body before under the comfort-style clothing she always wears to class. But damn, does she clean up well.

I was afraid at first that she wouldn’t show up after I gave her my address. Afraid I came on too strong, had been too commanding with her. When she did everything I told her to do without resistance or complaint, I was excited, yet still cautious. Now that she’s here, and I’m seeing her wearing that dress just for me, I finally believe that she’s not trying to blackmail me. I had my doubts. But now it’s clear she doesn’t want my money. Just my cock. And it wants her too.

Seeing the way she looks at me, hungry and full of lust, has my balls about to boil over. It’s a good thing I rubbed one out before she got here so I can last longer.

She sits in the chair in front of me, hands trembling on the table. She’s nervous. For some reason that excites me even more.

“Unbutton my jeans,” I tell her. It’s more of a command than a suggestion. She doesn’t flinch at the order, just gets her quaking hands to work. She fondles with the button and zipper until they finally come undone. I stand to let her pull my jeans down. When my boxers are down too she gets this dreamy look on her face. Makes me think this girl hasn’t had sex in a while. She acts like she’s starving and my dick is the only thing that can provide nourishment. By all means, have at it. I have no intention of standing in her way.

“Stroke it,” I command.

Again, without hesitation, she reaches out, timid at first, before gently touching the skin of my shaft. Chills race up my arms and legs and a moan rumbles low in my throat. Her warm hands massaging my cock feel amazing. It’s been a long time since anyone has touched me like this. Last girlfriend I had was over a year ago. It had burned hot the first couple weeks then fizzled out within a month. Since then, I hadn’t really been interested in anyone and haven’t had much time for the dating scene.

Georgia seems to grow more confident in her ministrations, stroking with one hand and exploring my balls with the other. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, enjoying the sensation, but that doesn’t last long. I want to watch her work.

Each time she glances up at me, studying my face as if she’s worried she might do something wrong, I feel myself getting closer.

“Lick the tip,” I say.

She leans over, sticks her tongue out and begins to lap at the opening, drinking up my pre-cum. She then alternates between licking the rim of my head and running her tongue down the length of me. I bite back the smile I feel pulling at my lips. She’s enjoying this way more than I thought she would, making quiet sounds of approval each time she opens her mouth.

“Now suck it,” I tell her.

She tilts her head as if thinking about the mechanics and mathematics of such a task, measuring in her mind. She looks like she’s trying to solve a problem: how to get her tiny heart-shaped mouth over my large cock head. Eventually, she opens her mouth and spreads her lips, her teeth tucked safely behind them and begins to devour me. I don’t how she does it, but she makes it work. When the head is completely in, I see the shape of it in her cheek. I swear to God I’ve never seen anything that sexy in all my life.

“Yeah, that’s good,” I say, brushing my fingers through her hair while holding onto the back of her head. When my rod is halfway down her throat she starts to gag, lets up a bit, then bobs down for more, pushing herself to go deeper each time. The feeling of her throat opening then constricting around my cock is like heaven, and the sight of those red lips stretched to fit is like art. I don’t push her onto me, but I encourage her by moving my hips a little. I’m not bragging here; I have a large dick. It’s just a fact. And it would be difficult for any woman to take. Especially Georgia. Everything about her is small. From her mouth to her body. Still, she impresses me by being able to take more than I ever thought possible.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I chant, pulling quickly out of her mouth. I’m on the verge of unloading, but I’m not ready for that yet. So much for lasting longer. Maybe I should’ve spent all day masturbating in order to get ready for this night.

Though Georgia doesn’t seem all that experienced, she knows what she’s doing, and does it with aplomb. Fucking hell, she’s hot.

I take her face in my hands. Her eyes are watery and she has this dazed smile across her face. When I first invited her over, I told myself just a hand job, nothing more. When I saw those red lips, I shrugged and thought, okay, blow job, but that’s it. Nothing else. Now I don’t think I can stop. And judging by the look on her face, I don’t think she can either.

I push my lips to hers, kissing her long and deep. Hands running along her body, down her smooth curves, I grab handfuls of that plump little ass, kneading at the soft flesh. My fingers inch beneath her dress until I’m touching satin skin. She’s wearing a thong. I move the string to the side and slip my finger between her wet folds. I’m not talking about damp here. Not just a bit of moisture. I’m talking Niagara Falls, Slip ’n Slide, Hurricane Georgia wet. Clearly I’m having the same effect on her that she’s having on me.

She lets out a long moan as I start to rub the delicate skin around the hard ball of her clit.

“Tell me what you want,” I say.

“I want you.”

Again I say, “Tell me what you want from me.”

She looks at my eyes and swallows hard. “I want . . .” Her words trail off like she’s embarrassed to say what she wants.

“Tell me, or this night is over and I walk away,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen and there’s a spark of surprise in them. I start to pull my hand away from her clit, but she grabs it, holding it in place. “Tell me,” I demand.

“I want you to fuck me.” Her words are barely a whisper, and her face turns a deep shade of red.

I fight the urge to smile. It’s so damn adorable how shy she is. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Her lips pinch together and she takes a deep breath, eyes steady and determined. “I want you to fuck my brains out.”

This time I do smile. I can’t help it.

I dig my fingers in deeper. Damn. I’m still mesmerized by how wet she is. I’ve never had a girl this wet for me before. I bury my face into her neck as she starts to hump my hand and beg for me not to stop. The horny cooing sounds she makes sends me into a frenzy.

Stepping out of my jeans and boxers, I pull her up out of her chair and lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. The heat from between her legs cradles my cock and gets my balls stirring again. Her mouth presses against mine in a heated kiss, our tongues twisting and writhing around each other.

“I want you so much,” she says as we break our kiss.

I carry her over to the island in the kitchen, slapping away towels and forks in my way to make room. They clamor against the floor as I lift her on top of the granite slab. Her dress is around her waist, panties still on, but moved to the side. I want to see everything, so I yank them off. She sits up so I can reach behind her and unzip the dress. The straps slide down her shoulders. Her bra matches her red lace panties. I reach behind again and unclasp her bra, tossing it to the side. With the top half of her completely naked, I take a moment to enjoy the view. She has beautiful breasts, small but full, and pink nipples standing at attention. I take one in my mouth and slide my tongue against the hard tip, going back and forth between sucking and nibbling.

She leans her head back, moaning as my mouth fully engulfs the breast and I begin to gently suckle. I do the same to the other after several minutes. I could play with her breasts alone all night, but my dick demands more.

“I need to be inside that wet pussy,” I tell her.

It’s like my words are the secret passage to unlocking her playhouse. Her legs open for me, and I feel the warmth radiating from between them without even touching her.

“It’s all yours,” she says, in a sultry voice, biting her bottom lip.

As much as I want to rip the clothes right off of her, I take my time sliding her dress all the way off and unwrapping her like a gift. I pause to marvel at the treasure between her legs. There’s not a speck of pubic hair. Good. That way I can see everything. Her arousal has made her pussy swollen and a deep shade of pink. Only a sliver of her labia peeks out beneath the outer folds.

“Spread your legs wider,” I say.

Her legs open on command. She’s still wearing her heels and it’s a lovely sight.

It’s like the most delicate flower landed between her legs to form her pussy. It’s perfectly sculpted like a decoration on a cake. While the rest of her skin is matte, her little cunt glistens. A steady drip of her thin cream runs from her opening, down to her adorable little asshole. I’m almost afraid to touch her and ruin it. I’m definitely afraid to fuck her. I look at her tiny opening and then down at my monstrous cock, wondering how the hell that’s going to fit without splitting her wide open. I want her to enjoy this, not be uncomfortable. Seems like a good possibility I would hurt her if I tried entering her right now. Luckily there’s plenty of time to stretch her out before the main event.

I bend over, kissing the top of her smooth mons. She’s propped up on her elbows, lips slightly parted, watching me.

“You have the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen. I want to fill you up with my cock,” I say, breathless.

She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue and gives me a mischievous grin.

I put a finger inside of her to see just how tight she really is. As expected, her opening clamps down on me like a vice, suctioning, holding on like it doesn’t want to let me go.

She rocks her hips as I move my finger in and out of her. “You’re so tight,” I tell her with a feral edge to my voice. “I can barely get a finger in there.”

Now for the taste test. I dive right in, running my tongue along the pink folds. She doesn’t have a strong scent; clean and sweet. And she tastes like whipped cream. As I lick circles around her clit, she sucks in a breath. “Oh, God,” she breathes.

Plunging my tongue into her opening, she cries out and starts to hump my face. I sit back, spread her open. Her pretty asshole needs attention too. With the tip of my tongue, I press against it and I’m met with resistance from the tight muscle.

“Oh, God!” she says again, screaming it this time.

I go back and forth, licking a trail between her cunt and ass, making sure each has its fair amount of attention. Then I put a second finger inside of her. This one goes in easier. Hooking my fingers, I feel the bumpy egg-shape of her G-spot and begin to rub. Her eyes open wide and she gives me this confused look as I massage, like she has no idea what the sensation is that she’s feeling. I wonder if anyone has ever touched her there before, and feel a sense of pride and ownership knowing I’m the first.

“What—” she starts to say, but then her eyes roll back in her head.

That’s when I try for a third finger. There’s some resistance, but I manage and she doesn’t complain. In fact, she seems to be loving it as she calls out my name. Hearing my name in her voice, the desperation, the yearning, I feel possessive. She’s mine. No one else can have her.

As I massage faster, she’s panting, “Oh, oh, oh,” her voice rising until she’s crying out, “Oh, fuck, yes!”

Suddenly her muscles clinch and clamp down on me, trapping my fingers inside of her, crushing them together until they’re overlapped. I wince as she contracts. Takes an entire minute before she relaxes enough for me to pull them out. When I do, a lava flow of her juices pour out with them spilling on the countertop.

She lays flat on her back against the granite slab, spent and breathing hard. Now that she’s loosened up, it’s time. I’ll give her a few minutes to come down, but I’m nowhere near done with her yet.

“That was amazing,” she says. She sits up and reaches for my hand. I give it to her. She puts my fingers—the ones that were just inside her pussy—into her mouth and sucks them clean. “I want more.”

Holy shit, this girl is incredible. “Oh, you’re getting more.” I rub my raging hard cock against her leg. “A lot more.”

She giggles as I lift her off the island. I carry her to my room for round two.