This story is dedicated to an inspiring muse
At 2:15 p.m. on a Monday, you pick up your desk phone on one ring and your student is on the other end. He must be on his cell because you can hardly hear him. You get the facts, though: He's getting on a train, you're to wrap things up at work and meet him in 30 minutes at the station around the corner. Then he hangs up.
You set the receiver down and feel the warmth on your face. You're excited and nervous. He's never called at work. How does he know where your office is? What does he have planned for you?
Good thing it's a slow afternoon. Your boss gives you a look when you tell her you need to take the rest of the day, but she lets you go, and you're parked outside the doors to the train station within 25 minutes.
You haven't seen your student or heard from him in more than a week. He hasn't been in the class you teach at the local college and he's missed a major test and is behind on his homework. But you have to give him a passing grade; he has too much on you. Nine days ago – over a 24-hour period – he learned that you love to have your nipples and cunt sucked. He soon shared you with his friend. Then he brought you to a wealthy couple in the city and they controlled you, touching upon many of your sexual fantasies. It was the most erotic time of your life, and you've been masturbating about it every day since, pining for your lover's touch.
The car door opens and he gets in and kisses you on the cheek. You turn your head to meet his lips, but he pulls back.
"Patience," he says, smiling. "There will be plenty of time for that and more. Turn out of here and take a left. I'm taking you somewhere you're gonna love."
You turn the car onto the main road, taking a left as he told you.
"Turn right at the next light, drive to Harrision and take another right," he says as he puts his hand on your leg, sliding your skirt up.
How does he know where he's going? Has he been here before?
By the time you're through the intersection, his hand is under your skirt.
You look over at him and smile. He smiles back as his fingers slide down to your warm cleft. You bite your lip and close your eyes for a second, wondering what's going to happen to you.
"Watch the road!"
You open your eyes and you're drifting into oncoming traffic. By the time you've swerved the car back into the right lane he's found your clit through the fabric and is rubbing it in little circles.
"Pull over here, on the left," he says, just in time – before you explode.
There's a nondescript building across the street. It has an old wooden sign, hanging a little askew, that reads "SAUNA."
His fingers flutter over you; you could cum right there.
He pulls his hands away and you sigh in frustration.
"Don't fret; you'll get more of that soon... Now take off all your jewelry, put this cap on and pull it down low. Don't say another word till I tell you and follow my lead."
You hand him your rings and he places them in the glove compartment as you put on a Broncos hat. It's a cold winter day and you pull your coat tight as you get out of the car. He comes around and slips his strong arm around your waist and helps you cross the street. In his other hand he's carrying a gym bag and you get a tingly feeling thinking what may be in it.
A buzzer rings as the door to the building opens and you stand quiet, as he said, and look around. There's an old oak desk with a matching chair in the corner, and a paisley couch and metal coffee table to the side. On the table are magazines and brochures about massage and the benefits of steam and sauna.
Just as you reach for a brochure a burly man with a beard appears at the top of the stairs.
"Hello ____, it's nice to see you again," he calls down in an accent that sounds Russian.
How does he know his name? Has he been here before?
"Good to see you, too, Michael," your student says and positions you behind him. "Can I get Room 7, please?"
At the top of the stairs Michael looks you over and smiles, but you won't make eye contact. You appear quiet and shy and keep your head down.
The proprietor hands him a bucket and several towels and opens Room 7.
"Enjoy."
Facing your student in a narrow changing room, he kisses you lightly on the lips and slides your coat off. He runs his fingers through your hair, strokes you face and kisses you again. You're breathing heavy. You lean in for another kiss but he steps back and sits on a wooden bench.
You're wearing a long brown skirt that accentuates your ass and a tight tan sweater that holds the curves of your breasts, which turn up a little. He's looking at your face, smiling, when he tells you to take off your clothes.
You hesitate for a second but you feel so comfortable around him, it's not long before you are pulling your sweater over you head and slipping out of the skirt. You go to reach for your bra but he stops you.
"Wait, I'll do the rest," he says and grabs your ass, pulling you closer.
You watch as his eyes roam over you body and your matching set of beige panties and bra. Your nipples tighten and you look down to see them poking through your bra. He sees them too, as well as the wet spot on your panties.
Giving your ass one more squeeze he slides his hands slowly up your back and unclasps your bra, which slips down your arms, exposing your tits to him. Your nipples are jutting from the tops of your breasts, and you both look at them and laugh a little. It's obvious how much you want this.
He pulls his hands around your waist, taking time to run his fingernails along your belly, causing you to shudder. Thumbs are in the waistband of your panties and they are pulled down very slow. He's exposing you. His face is eye level with your pussy and he's staring right at it as the garment is lowered, inch by inch.
When he gets down low, you can feel the panties pull away from you wet slit and you are naked in front of him, panting. He gently kisses your belly, taking time to run his tongue from you navel to your cleavage, holding you up by your ass, squeezing your cheeks again.
You want him to eat you right here, so you start to raise one leg, to push yourself against his mouth.
"Not yet," he says and turns you around, nudging you toward a narrow door.
Through the door is a shower room with a wooden bench fastened to one wall and a wide, square stool on the floor. The walls are terra cotta yellow. And there's a thin window that's steamed over. It's considerably warmer here. He tells you to get in the shower and wash yourself and hands you a bar of sweet-smelling soap. He'll be back in a second. As he's going out the door he says "keep your eyes closed from now on."
The water pulses on your breasts as you wash your face and neck. You hear the door open and immediately feel him behind you. His hard cock is pushing into your back. He takes the soap from you and runs it over your shoulders, down your back, over your ass and down your legs. He turns you around and starts from the top again, down the front of your chest and over your tits and erect nipples before he moves down to your stomach. All that's left to clean is your pussy and ass, and he takes his time, stroking your privates with his soapy hands.
Your eyes are still closed and you're surprised when he kisses you, lolling his tongue into your mouth. The water is spraying over the two of you. You're kissing your student, the young man that's been the subject of your fantasies for months, in the shower in some strange building. You feel so sexy, so wanted.
He puts the soap in your hand and says, "Your turn to wash me."
You reach up to touch his handsome face and proceed to wash every inch of his athletic body, from his chest down to his legs, purposely saving his cock and balls for last. Once his back is done, he turns around and you curl your hand around his big, hard penis, lathering his testicles with your other hand as you suck hungrily on his neck.
He moans and kisses you again, breaking from your lips to point you toward another door.
The door opens and a wall of heat and moisture hit your face. You steal a quick glance. This room is even smaller – about 4-feet by 6-feet, with a two-level bench, one to sit on and one for your feet. "Close your eyes, remember?" he says.
"Lay down here, on your stomach." He guides you toward the bench and helps you get settled.
"Are you comfortable?"
"Mmmm hmmm." You feel you body getting warm.
"Good, I'll be right back," and he goes into the shower room, closing the door. You hear muffled sounds -- a bucket being filled and the unzipping of what you guess is his gym bag.
The door creaks and he shuffles past you to turn up the heat a little.
Sweat beads on your forehead and the warmth of the room is working its way into your sore muscles.
