Welcome back!

You will recall my near trist with a professor from this post. Now that the semester is over and my grade is posted, I want to issue a confession. I lied to you, dear reader, I told the story incompletely when one of the alternate endings I had mentioned are actually more accurate.

You know the part where I said “Goodnight” and walked away? Yeah, I actually said “Lets go to your place.”

When we got there, I noticed the books for the seminar I would be taking with him on his coffee table and some notes. The reality of the situation was sinking in and instead of walking over and picking up a book, I sat down. I was a afraid that emphasizing the indiscretion we were both about to commit would make one of us change our minds.

He sat down with me and cuddled up, told me that he was just glad to be able to spend some time with me, asked if I was feeling pressured. I assured him, “No, I just get like this when I’m nervous and excited.” I clam up, act demure, all of my bravado falls away and I seem terrified. He held me some more and stroked my hair.

His body felt massive next to mine, he is the tallest man I’ve ever been with and strong muscular build. He kissed me and my mind stopped racing for a moment. His lips were so soft and inviting – nothing felt wrong at all.

He asked if I wanted to go upstairs. Perhaps I hesitated because again he said “you don’t have to do this.” Perhaps he was also reassuring himself. I stood up and grabbed his hand. We met with an embrace. I felt his hands on my back and felt tiny again – I love that feeling.

When we got upstairs, he went to the restroom and I arranged myself on the bed lying on my stomach with my heels kicked up in the air. He walked back in the room and, after a sharp intake of breath, said “God, you look beautiful like that.” I giggled and said, “I know.” There was my confidence coming back – once you are lying naked on your professor’s bed, the time to be shy is over.

I remained facing over him and felt him lower his body onto the bed. He caressed my ass and kissed my shoulders eventually turning me over and taking one of my breasts into his mouth. I watched him touch me, I ran my hands over his strong back and shoulders and arched towards his mouth. He kept kissing and sucking my breasts until I was near distraction, I grabbed one of his hands and guided towards my pussy.

He touched me, tentatively at first, gently exploring my wetness, flicking his thumb over my clit. My hips met these caresses with a greedy desire – this was the culmination of those hours of naughty talking in the bar, the tense car ride here, the small talk in the living room. My throbbing, wet cunt was finally getting what it craved. He muttered something about how wet I was while kissing my hip and then moved his face between my legs.

Was it good head? Yeah it was really fucking good. Did it prevent me from getting all meta again and considering what I was doing? Thinking about who’s head was between my legs? No way. I cursed and thrashed and called out his name, “Thomas”. I repeated it, using it as a reminder of how naughty and forbidden this felt. I longed to call him Professor, but refrained from saying it out loud. His tongue was so soft on my clit but so insistent. I squeezed my thighs around the sides of his face, thought again about the power I was wielding and then grabbed his hand and squeezed it just in time for my orgasm to crash over me.

He held me and we talked about masochism, both theoretically and practically. As I recovered from my orgasmic haze, we ran our hands over each other. Eventually, I dug my nails in. He growled at me. Then I did it again. This man, strong and assuring to me, was deeply into pain. Watching him accept it was a fantastic turn-on. I kneeled in the bed over him and looked down at his large frame. Running my hands all over him, I haphazardly dug my nails in, enjoying watching his body twitch in expectation and then react to the sensation. Straddling his ass I began to spank him, riding his body as he bucked against me. Every few minutes I would drape my body over his, pressing my breasts into his back and whispering something filthy and threatening into his ear. He moaned and pressed back against me. He told me how much he wished I had a strap-on to fuck him with. I promised that I would next time. He came with me pressed against him, digging my nails into his side and biting hard on his shoulder.

I laughed and laid down next to him and caught him looking at me with amazement as he tried to slow down his ragged breathing.

“You were a virgin until when?” he asked incredulously.

“A few years ago,” I replied giggling.

“Well, then,” he said, “you are some sort of fucking prodigy.”

I told him that I hoped he would have the same thing to say about my course work.