"We've talked about it; I could lose my job."
"We've talked, yes. But, aren't you the least bit...curious?" Her fingernail lightly traced down to his knee, swirling around it. Then, ever so lightly, traced the pleat in his pants, up and down.
"You know I am, I would never have considered what we did in the library before you. But we talked about this. What has gotten into you this morning?"
"Curious...curious," she continued, "all those times I bent over your desk, pretending not to notice your eyes roving over me. Curious...as to what it would be like to take me on, or even over that desk. Maybe...a little curious as to what I was doing before I put on these thigh highs. Curious as to what I was thinking about? It doesn't hurt to be curious. Aren't you curious about...what I'm wearing under this skirt, what I could do with this....what I would taste like...?" Each mention of
curious
, she finger slid closer to his crotch. And then drifted back down his leg. And then traveled up his inner thigh. With each mention of that word, which she seemed to suck on before saying it through those pouting, ruby lips, she would watch his tightening expression, the color in his cheeks, his breathing deepen.
His eyes darted to her. One hand tucked under her chin, she watched him with that half-smile, while her finger moved over the rise in his pants. He shifted, and she bit her lower lip when he moaned softly.
"I'll tell you...I was thinking about you, professor, all morning. I thought about you while I touched myself. I've almost graduated. I think we can keep it a secret until then. We'll just be...careful, discreet. Like Joyce's character in 'Araby,' I had an epiphany. I decided this morning something very important." Her feather touch flitted up and down the zipper of his pants. Her smile relished the strain, the bulge. She crossed her legs. Had he been listening, instead of focusing on the traffic, he would have heard her soft, little moan, just below Bon Jovi's lyrics,
you give love a bad name (bad name)
. She continued, "I decided that you don't get what you don't go for. To take matters into my own hands. How very post-modern of me." Bubble-gum pink nails pulled down the zipper, and out sprang his hard cock. Wide, brown eyes, a gasp, a sudden jerk of the wheel, the car lurched.
"No underwear today? My, you and I really do think alike."
"What, what are you doing? Someone...someone will see!" He stammered.
She continued. The bold, ruby of her lips a stark contrast to the pink tip of his cock, which she gingerly kissed. Her head nestled in his lap, her long, black hair fell over his thighs. He gasped as her tongue swirled around the tip, and that tongue widened to include the entire head. Lightly, those lips kissed where her tongue had been.
"Oh...God," he whispered through clenched teeth.
She tried to trace her tongue down his shaft, but the steering wheel prevented it.
"Oh," she pouted, "quel dommage." Instead, she twirled her tongue around the head until bringing it fully into her mouth, sucking and smacking. Before she began to slowly bob her head up and down. His hand lifted off the wheel, and found the back of her head. Lacing his fingers through her soft, black hair, he gently moved his hand up and down. From between his legs, he could hear the smack of her lips, the twirl of her tongue, as she brought his hard cock deeper and deeper into her mouth.
"It's everything I was hoping for," she smacked, a little giggle, and then plunged down further onto his cock. His gentle hand, though, had stiffened, the hand in her hair clenched. And at the moment, she jumped, her mouth tightening. The sensation, that reaction, caused him to increase his grip, to increase the rhythm, driving her mouth, her throat, to envelop his cock. Then, up. Then thrusting back down. He groaned deeply as her tongue and mouth relaxed, taking him in, her nose touching his waist. Roughly, with lustful purpose, he drove her head up and down his shaft. She gurgled; she tried gasping between thrusts. But, he was relentless. Surprise widened her tearing eyes. Her hands clenched on his thighs, tightening as she struggled to breath. Ropes of spit and pre-cum trailed from her lips to his cock when he brought her head up. A quick gasp, and her face was thrust back down again, her mouth, her throat enveloping him.
The car lurched to a stop. He let her hair go.
"God, I created a monster," she gasped. Spluttering, she popped her head up peering out of the driver's side window, "where are we? The park?"
Without zipping up, he opened the door and strode around the front of the car. With determined step, he walked around the front of the Corolla. Smiling, a little dazed, she watched his thick cock glisten and wag back and forth with every footfall. He flung open the passenger door. Looking over her shoulder, her body draped over the center console, she regarded him with a coolly, the shine of drool on her chin, looking over her shoulder. During her struggle, her skirt had inched higher, revealing the bottom of her curvaceous ass, just peeking out. Hungry eyes devoured her.
"Why, Professor...what are you planning--" her voice was cut short. Large hands fell upon her waist, grabbing the hem over her skirt, yanking her ass into the air. She yelped. Her brown eyes widened, her arms flailed to prop her up. Her elbows sank into the driver's seat. The skirt was yanked upward, revealing her bare ass. He grabbed; he squeezed, he pulled her cheeks apart.
