I was giddy - actually giddy and squirming in my seat this time when i went to class. I knew I was breaking him down.

At first he told me he wanted to keep it professional. I told him i didn’t want to fuck things up for him. Told him that i literally didn’t care he was engaged, though, or that he could lose his job, told him that I just couldn’t help how I felt.

He told me he wouldn’t get me in trouble over it, but that I shouldn’t be telling him such things. That I needed to understand. I understand, but can’t help it. Thats why I kept writing him. Sending him nice little notes. Texts, e-mails, letters in his faculty mail box.

And then, late one night, after never hearing back, he responded. “Katie, you are making things very difficult.”

Said he was awake. Said he had been getting my messages. At first he’d thrown them out, but then he just started keeping them. Told me he was awake again, for the third night in a row, just woke up with ‘a pounding erection like when I was 16’ next to his sleeping finance, with sneaky little imaginings of me dancing in my underwear slipping around in his mind…

So i promptly texted him this:

“GODDAMNIT.” was his immediate response.

Rather than go on over things I had already told him in any detail, I simply reminded him of how I felt. “You do know, I am perfectly serious when I say that I truly want this…”

…with you. “

“Kaetie let me just say I can’t even think right now. Or any time for the past couple days. A week really. I don’t think you can truly understand what you are doing to me. Or maybe you do. I am 45, in a relationship, tenure, and by all accounts I have my ‘shit’ together. But then… Katie I came last night. Thinking of you. I had honestly been avoiding doing so. But then I let myself. And then I did it again. And now it’s been every night for a week and the desire and the stinging erotic pleasure of it has actually mounted. Increased. Become nearly unbearable in my day. Thinking of when I will see you again. In class. Or elsewhere.”

Broken. I broke him.

“How about my apartment after class tomorrow? You can casually follow me home at a safe distance. I live right off campus.”

So there I was in class. I had gone to a private girls school once upon a time, and actually kept the outfit - skirt, button top, tie, academy pin - primarily for kink value. The shirt fit better when I was 17, and a bit more … flat in the chest. But no matter! It fit *well enough. He certainly took note, obviously trying not to through the two hours of Dutch renaissance art we poured through. He seemed very serious how he addressed the class. Almost a little grave. But I could tell he was just nervous.

At 2:45, I found myself walking, smiling uncontrollably. I had glanced back and seen him. He was in hot pursuit, perhaps fifty yards back, not looking up. Talking on his phone. I slowed to make sure he saw which apartment. Then I went up the stair and in the door. I left the door ajar, no mistaking it.

Time enough to pour a drink over ice and he was there. I slipped close, my hand behind him, closing the door. And locking it. I grinned!

“Here, let’s sit down and you can have a drink!”

My apartment, modest means, yes, but I have my kinks and my persuasions. I also have perhaps the least feminine taste in furnishings of any 25 year old woman you will meet. Namely my large black stuffed leather sofa. Nothing like bulging black leather cushions set in an imposing room-conquering frame can silently scream “FUCK-ME” like this couch!

He sat down in my couch. I kicked off my heels, and strode over, barefoot, drink in hand. I sat next to him, our elbows touching. Uncomfortable silence. He let his hand touch my leg at an awkward moment, and a ball of ice slid forward and splashed vodka tonic in my face. It broke the spell and i stood up, laughing and wiping my face. Drink down on the glass side table. Unbuttoning my wetted blouse… just enough. Black sheer naughty little bra.

“Oh, I was going to give you this!” I said, distractedly looking for my purse, reaching in. Striding over to him where he sat looking up. I leaned in, my hair falling forward and he sat up and we kissed. His hand found the back of my neck. My hand ruffled up through his hair, down to his shoulder.. down his arm. And I put it in the open palm of his hand. I slipped back a little, his eyes glancing down my shirt. Then he looked in his hand.

A pretty pink condom in a clear wrapper. A fat cartoon strawberry on it.

And here he was, on my couch, holding it, looking at it like he’d never seen one before and I, grinning, just kinda-sorta-slipped down, my knees on my wool rug near his feet, and I put my hands on his knees. Grinning at him!

Such a weight must be on his mind! But then his hands were on my arms, sliding up, he leaned in and kissed my lips again, and again harder. I kissed, but sat up and pushed him back just a little. He sat back, and I put my hands on his knees and let them slide up his legs. Up to where the fabric bunched. And back down. And I slid them back up, but this time letting my thumbs dig in a little.. drawing invisible lines up the inseams. Right to the top and back down again. And I was looking at him. I heard his breath shutter a little.

“Katie, listen.. we..”

I unzipped the zipper. And softly let my fingers slip inside. And just a short moment later, the purple tip of his penis was erect and standing free. Pointing at my ceiling for us both to see!

How pretty. How beautiful. The sound of his belt being undone, and we coordinated for a moment, and now his slacks were entirely down around his ankles at my knees. I smiled to see him on my couch. I had seen him at the university pool. Swimming. Coaching. Had paid attention, but now here he was. And what I had only imagined revealed. His fat nuts resting between his legs upon my black leather couch.

“Let me.”

There is an art to it. Much more than some frantic decision about which side rolls down! In this case, the little pink raised tip gave it away. Little pink reservoir tip, pinched gently and placed like a hat on his purple head. And the rest is in the gentle care as the pink rubber softly rolls down and takes on the every contour of…him. Such a shape is a cock. An instrument of violence. Powerful and practical. His veins bulged through the pink as the last little lip of latex was rolled to the base of the shaft. Perfection. We admired it together.

I admired it closer. Because it tasted like strawberries! Mmm!

For as tight as he was at that moment, I smiled inwardly at the thought of helping it further.

A girl kneeling before a man, he reaches out and lifts her shirt, she crosses her arms over her chest and lifts it free. And reaches behind her and unsnaps the wicked little black bra. She puts her hands back on his legs, and watches her, breathing shallowly, as her head goes down…

Licking a mans nuts can provide so very much of a tease! One side. Then the other. But it’s more than a tease because… well hey, he’s *actually* having his nuts licked, how about that?? Tip of my pink tongue between them. Tip of my tongue finds the edge of the pink latex. Tip of my tongue draws a wet line all the way up one side. Then all the way down the other. He sits up, he holds my hair back so he can see. Smooth and soft. I kiss my way back up one side. Down the other.

This sort of thing alone can provide hours of amusement! I was given to treating an ex boyfriend of mine like a lollipop just for the sheer joy of watching a man’s tension mount to the point of frustration and to keep him there… just by licking. To the point he eventually slips past all control… just by licking..

But not for professor. I kissed the tip. Licked a little circle round its head. Tip of my tongue, tasting strawberry all round the purple ridge under pink. I kissed his tip again. But the kiss went a little deeper. Smoothly deeper. There’s an art, again. Lips and tongue. Lips and tongue. Tongue like a guiding undulating tunnel or cradle if you will. My kiss slipped down slowly.

A six-and-one-half-inch deep kiss.

Then I slipped back up, we met eyes. Then I *kissed* down again. And back up slowly. Then again. Then once more… just lingering there. In all honesty, late teens were spent with men only too happy help me conquer my gag reflex.

A man its back on a black leather couch, arms over his head in obvious resignation…he sighs “Ohhh fuck-me!” A girl kneeling before him has his entire penis in her throat and is currently licking his nuts again.. all around under them, where they rest on her black leather couch. And with some lip smacking, she sits back up and he helps her up, his hands slide up her long naked legs up under the skirt. His hands find nothing but her smooth hips, his thumbs discover naked wetness under there.

He’s looking up at me and I can see it in his eyes, feeling his thumb explore into me. I see it in his eyes, the sleepless nights, the distracted burning frenzy in his mind, the twinge of guilt and the helplessness he has let himself feel in the face of temptation. I imagine in my mind the look on his face, all those guilty nights alone in secret, all the guilty secret cum he has pumped out into his hands….

The girl in the skirt and no shirt stands then climbs onto the mans lap. And sits down.

And he wraps his arms around her. His hands tightly sliding up and down her naked back. And she sits up, her knees pushing down into the black leather. And she sits down. Again.

And again. And again and again and again.

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And again. And again. And again. And again.

And he pulls her down and throws her onto the couch, her legs apart. He mounts her.

And again. And again.

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And she lets her body rise and fall, he holding her by the hips. her naked legs in the air..

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
And again. And again. And again.

And she feels his nuts bouncing against her, wet from herself.. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And now, she kneels, looking now toward him, and the man once again lifts her skirt. And mounts her from behind. Like a little bitch. On her creaking leather sofa.

AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN! And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And the girl wails out loud. Not even hearing herself, for the rushing ringing buzzing pulsing sounds as the orgasm washes over her. And again.

…

And then he’s sitting. Just how things started. And she’s back on his lap. This time the skirt is simply on the floor. She is absolutely naked, his hands on her hips as she moves.

And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And when it happens for him, it makes him cry a little with joy. Tears in his eyes. Because he literally can’t believe. Like some long forgot half remembered pure erotic place he experienced as a young man with a woman he sometimes thinks of, the orgasm just burst forth. Burst through him. Throttled his mind and soul with more than he perhaps expected.

And when I slipped off of his lap, I noticed how the pink rubber was pumped so full of cum that I couldn’t even see the head of his cock.