Waiting a moment in the hallway before knocking, I wiped my sweaty palms on my denim skirt—a general sense of unease is becoming a steady presence in my life, these days. Classes are just killing me; I used to be a stellar student and now I just have no motivation—Spanish is the worst. That’s why I wanted to talk to Professor Chavez; not that he’d say anything terribly useful, because he thinks I’m doing fairly well, but I know that with some professors, if you show that you really care about the class, they’ll cut you some slack. Besides that, he had asked me to come when I was done with my day’s classes. Great.
The frame of the door sounded hollow and cheap as I rapped on Professor Chavez’s office door. He promptly came to the door and greeted me, ushering me into the room. I took to my usual spot, standing next to the bookshelf and setting my backpack down on the floor as I watched him close the door and take to sitting on his desk, as was custom. It had to have been the sixth time this semester I’ve gone in to get some reassurance and advice from him.
“Julia, thank you for coming, I wanted to talk about something…from your test,” he said, looking somewhat troubled. I was somewhat surprised that he was using English—he always jokes that he’s not very comfortable with it or doesn’t understand it—but simultaneously I was relieved, because I could barely think in English right now, let alone Spanish.
“Yeah, I know, I’m sure I did horribly on it, I just don’t understand these tenses we’re working on right now. I mean, I understand the conditional and the future, but once we get into pluperfect subjunctive and that, I don’t even know what they look like, no matter how hard I study, and…” I sighed in resigned frustration.
He just kindof smiled at me and shook his head. He seemed to think about it for a moment, running his hand through his almost-graying hair. Fourty-four is treating him very well, I have to admit. My whole class can’t figure out why he is single: he’s an attractive man, he likes to cook, he’s very smart, and he has a knockout accent. Snapping me out of my musings, he replied, “Julia, you did fairly well on the test. You’re right, you could stand to review the different tenses, but these things come with time. Just think of how much progress you’ve made in dealing with the preterit and imperfect—you use them well in your speech, now, not just in writing. You’re making good progress.” He paused for a moment, seeming troubled. I stayed silent a few moments.
Finally, he voiced what was on his mind; “Julia, it’s the composition portion of the test I need to…clarify.” He kindof grinned at me—what IS it about Latin American men’s smiles that just makes me melt? And it didn’t help that he was wearing my favourite pair of black Wranglers that did such good things for his ass.
I kindof blushed—the essay topic was on tattoos and piercings, talking about an experience we have had in getting any body modification done. I don’t know WHY I chose to write what I did, because I have plenty of examples to choose from: my piercer knows me by name. They’re all very tasteful, mind you—my tongue is the most daring piercing I have that people can regularly see, since nose piercing and anything in your ears is totally commonplace now. But for some reason I had opted to write about my nipple-piercing experience, probably because they’re my favourite piercings. I knew he’d read it, but I didn’t think I’d have to talk to him about it much. Trying not to look embarrassed, I asked, “What can I clarify for you?” I felt my ears turning red and I went kindof cold…I hate it when my body betrays me like that.
He looked around the ceiling for a moment, thinking. He really seemed kindof torn for some reason. Finally, he took a deep breath and explained, “Well, I…you don’t have to answer this or…or whatever, if you don’t want to, because I know I shouldn’t ask, but I just couldn’t help but ask if…can I…see them?”
My mind was a whirlwind. I have been lusting after the man all semester, but I had no intentions of acting on that. I mean, I’m so inexperienced, bahis firmaları so I’m really prone to making an idiot out of myself, and I’m really self-conscious. And he’s twice my age, not to mention my professor!
I didn’t even really have time to think about it before my answer was coming out of my mouth; I felt as if I had no control at the time, and I just nodded an affirmative as I began to unbutton my shirt. I kindof fumbled with the buttons because I was shaking a bit, and I was still utterly conflicted. I didn’t know what I was supposed to think…so I guess I stopped trying.
As I finally got my buttons un-done, I unclasped my bra—I just happened to choose my favourite front-clasp this morning, so as I was standing in my professor’s office baring my breasts to him, I didn’t have to take my shirt or bra off (quite the convenient coincidence).
He kindof gasped, and I didn’t know how to take it. I mean, I just wanted to make him happy, honestly. I felt as if we stood there for at least ten minutes, with him staring at the barbells through my nipples and me staring at the look in his eyes…I had never seen that look before from anyone, let alone him. I can’t even explain the effect it had on me…I felt very vulnerable, and at the same time very strong, and I could see that he had a similar mix of feelings running through his mind.
After thinking about this situation for a moment, I realized that I had an opportunity. This could turn out to be a very memorable experience—not that it wasn’t already a memory that would be ingrained in my mind forever—and I made a decision. I took a bit of a plunge and ran my hand up my stomach and lightly caressed my nipple with my thumb. Biting my lower lip, I looked to him for his reaction.
He licked his lips and seemed torn once again before asking me tentatively, “can I…touch them?”
I didn’t hesitate this time before taking two steps toward him and nodding. The sensation of his surprisingly soft hands grazing over my breasts, over my nipples…it gave me courage in exchange for my conscience. I leaned over slightly and tilted his chin up, kissing him lightly—I had been wanting to do that for months, and it was better than I had imagined. With him being so close, I could smell his cologne, I could feel the warmth of his mouth on mine, and I almost went weak. He, however, seemed to find some inner source of resolve, for the touch of his hands became a bit more insistent and the depth of our kisses went from tender to passionate.
He began to kiss down my neck a bit, taking his time but remaining eager. I stood straight and tilted my head back to allow him better access as I shrugged my shoulders to let both my shirt and my bra flutter to the floor. I ran my hands over his shoulders as he reached what must have been heaven—I can’t even imagine there being anything better than the sensation of his tongue flicking my sensitive nipples, one and then the other. I suppressed a moan—we were right next door to the department office, and if one of the secretaries overheard the department chair engaged as he was with a student…we’d be in trouble, doubtless.
“Professor, I…” I began.
“Call me Roberto, all of the other students do,” he interrupted in a brief intermission from his masterful work on my breasts.
“Roberto, you’re not going to regret this, are you?” I said. I didn’t want this experience to be clouded by having some awkwardness in class or something. The last thing I wanted on this planet was for him to stop, but I still felt I should make sure.
He paused a moment and stood. He was so close to me, I could feel his cock through both his and my layers of jeans. He was only an inch or two taller than I, but it was enough; I felt very safe standing there just then. “Julia, if anyone would regret this, it would be you; I have nothing to worry about as long as no one important knows. I won’t regret a minute of this as long as you’re okay with everything.” He looked deeply into my eyes—I couldn’t maintain his gaze for more than a couple of seconds, so I broke it with a short kiss, running kaçak iddaa my hands over his chest through his dress shirt. His hands wandered over my bare back to rest on my ass.
“I’ll tell you if I’m not comfortable with something.” I replied, breathlessly.
With that, he kissed me again and we traded places, with me sitting on the desk. As he resumed licking and kissing my breasts, I pulled up my skirt, wanting desperately to know what his mouth would be like elsewhere. Sensing this, he ran his hand along my leg, caressing the inside of my thigh and then over the thong that was my underwear. He stifled a moan at the discovery that I was utterly soaked. I kindof blushed, but at the same time, my brain was fogged with lust, and I had nothing on my mind but him.
He ran his fingers along my outer labia through my underwear before moving them to the side and lightly stroking my clitoris, all the while alternating from my left nipple to my right, wiggling the little barbells with his tongue, which was driving me crazy. Part of me wanted the moment to last forever, but I spread my legs a little wider, wordlessly begging him for more. He slid one finger, then two into my pussy and stroked for a minute to get me to loosen up a little bit—I had never been with a man before, and I think he sensed that.
After a few moments, he took his fingers out of my cunt and I grabbed his hand and began sucking on his fingers—I have always loved the way that I taste, but the added dimension of his touch on my body was driving me crazy—I knew I needed something more.
“Roberto, can I ask you a favour?” I asked somewhat breathily as he returned his hand to stroking my clit.
“Sure,” he said nodding.
“I…I want you to fuck me, but I’m still technically a virgin when it comes to men, and I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to lose that in this situation.” Thinking back on it now, NOTHING we had done was appropriate, but my mind’s ability to comprehend logical reasoning had slipped away long before.
“Just with men, eh?” He said with a grin. I grinned back at him and blushed momentarily as he continued, “Do you want me to stop, or…” he slipped his well-lubricated fingers down a bit and pressed ever so lightly on my tight asshole.
I gasped a bit and whispered a moan before saying, “No, don’t stop! God, man, please don’t stop. If…if it’s okay with you…I want you to fuck me in the ass.”
He instantly grinned and kissed me quickly and deeply. He was still applying some pressure to my asshole as he stroked my clit with his thumb; it didn’t take me long to loosen up enough to allow his finger to venture into my tight, warm ass. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, and I wanted more.
He paused for a moment and grabbed some lotion from the drawer of the desk on which I was sitting (I actually had to move my leg to allow him access, being that my legs were spread out to the drawers). He flipped the cap and squeezed a bit onto his finger that was in my asshole and worked it around and in with ease before slipping in a second finger. I gasped a little at the increased pressure in my backdoor, but it was quickly as easy as the first had been. This whole process seemed very foreign to me, but I…I needed it. I don’t think it was just my lust that I had been nursing for the last two months for him. And I don’t think it was just a need to get laid in some form or another. It was as if everything could have been thrown away in exchange for the next five minutes of my life—I’ve never felt that way about anything before.
“Roberto,” I gasped, “I need you…I need your cock in me…”
“Then turn around, rest your hands on the desk, and relax for me,” he said. I complied and pulled my skirt up to my waist, giving him a better view of his work.
I could tell he wasn’t exactly a virgin at this; he seemed to know my body better than I did. I could hear his pants unzipping and I felt somewhat guilty that I hadn’t paid his cock much attention—in fact I hadn’t yet seen it. But in the back of my mind, I was hoping this wouldn’t be the last time and I’d get kaçak bahis to try something new with him; maybe I could repay him this divine favour at a later date.
At any rate, I glanced back and saw that his cock had definitely been straining to escape its confinement for some time—it looked huge to me, considering how big his two fingers had felt inside of me, but I trusted him, and I knew he’d take it slowly. He added some lotion to the pre-cum that had formed at the tip and before I had time to get nervous, he had pulled my thong to the side and his cock was at the entrance to my asshole, applying pressure slowly but without hesitation.
For a split second, I was worried it wouldn’t fit, but I took a deep breath and the moment I pushed back against him, the head of his cock slipped into my asshole. I gasped slightly, getting used to that slight pain and intense pleasure as he pressed onward, managing another inch of his cock into the tight passageway. It was frustratingly slow, but at the same time I knew that he didn’t want to hurt me, and I felt strangely at ease. He ran his hands along my bare back, rubbing my shoulders and occasionally slipping down to rub my thighs and clit while all the while pressing forward with his hips. I replied by pushing in kind; a whimper or two escaped my lips as his cock reached placed in my ass that I had never known could feel so good.
After what couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, I could feel that his cock was fully inserted into my ass—his hips were right against my ass cheeks, his legs against mine…I had never felt so sexy.
Then Roberto began to stroke deeply in and out of my ass, all the while whispering calming sentiments in a mix of Spanish and English into my ear—it was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard: “Cálmate, chica, tienes que relajar…you’re so beautiful, me haces volverme loco.” It certainly didn’t take me long before I was bouncing back and forth, suppressing moans of an insistent, needy pleasure. I couldn’t imagine the experience his hands had, to know my skin so well. Our pace was a flurry of mounting intensity before I felt him come in my ass, a jet of warmth accompanied by a barely-quieted moan. I came not long after, with my Spanish professor’s dick in my ass and fingers on my clit—definitely not something I’ll forget any time soon.
We took a moment to catch our breath before he pulled out of my rear. My thong slipped back into place, but didn’t do much to keep his cum from seeping out of my asshole, definitely an unusual feeling. I slipped my skirt back down and straightened it as he resituated his jeans as well.
As I was slipping my bra on, there was a knock at the door—I freaked out and frantically whipped my shirt on, trying to button it as Roberto stalled a moment: “Un momento, por favor.” He ran his hands through his hair and opened the door just as I straightened out my shirt and tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to act casual, which I suck at.
From behind the door I could hear María Carlton, my Spanish professor from last year. A middle-aged blonde woman, she carried herself as if she had just done something very similar to what I had just done—she sounded kindof sultry, just then, as she handed Roberto a manila envelope.
“Here are the surveys from the 212 polls, Roberto,” she said.
“Gracias, María—I’ll check them out this weekend. Chau.”
Waving goodbye to her, he closed the door and grinned, relieved. I turned beet red, mortified that we had almost been caught—he was obviously a more thrill-seeking soul than I. He took a step toward me, tilted my head up with his fingertips and kissed me sweetly. I twined my arms around his neck and enjoyed the moment, hoping it wouldn’t be a one-time thing.
Breaking off the kiss, he tucked my bangs behind my ear and cupped my cheek in his palm, grazing his thumb over my cheekbone. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let this happen…”
Interrupting his gratuitous apologies, I slipped my hands into his back pockets and grinned. “Can we do it again, sometime?” I said with a wink. He made me swoon with a boyish grin and kindof nodded before kissing my cheek and letting me out to the hallway. The feeling of his cum slowly sliding out of my ass as I left his office was priceless.