The All-Nighter

Co-authored by Salacious and Kewbert

Authors’ note: What we attempted here was a “he said/she said” collaboration. “He Said” is in Roman style type, and “She Said” is in italics. A telling of the same story from two perspectives, with a dash of chain letter feel to it. It’s a bit experimental, but we thoroughly enjoyed writing it. We’d particularly appreciate your feedback on this genre-bending style. Thanks, Kew and Sal

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My life sucks. I cannot believe a whole semester of teaching class looms ahead of me. I used to love it, but between the pressure to get published by my department heads, and the dwindling number of students that remotely care about Land Use, and my recent divorce, I've had it. I'll bet that not one student will even be here in the lecture hall on time, despite the fact that it's 9:58 now.

Checking my watch, I was beginning to wonder if I'd make it to class on time. "Damn hangover, damn margaritas...damn alarm clock." Opening the door to the class and seeing that it had already filled up with other students it seems I was destined to sit in the front row. "Fabulous, a headache and lecture drone, up close and personal." Adjusting myself in the seat, unfortunately next to the window, I looked up and saw the first good thing to happen all day." This wasn't the same crusty professor that had taught my last class in Land Use. Nice ass! Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Thank you, class. Remember that the last day for drop/add is a week from Wednesday. You're dismissed." It seems that some folks showed up to my class after all. Were they mostly female, or was that my overactive, undersexed imagination? As a few students lingered with trivial questions, I caught myself hoping that the curvaceous girl from the front row was one of them. She couldn't seem to keep still in her seat. Through the whole lecture, every time she crossed and re-crossed her legs, I involuntarily looked at her. It was amateurish of me, but she was worth every eyeful. "Yes, we will cover all aspects of topography, land use case law and some elements of geology. See you in two days. Yes, goodbye." There she was. Everyone else had gone. Was my heart actually fluttering? "Hi, what was your name again?"

"Yes, Professor Royce, my name is Allison, Allison Vargas. I was just wondering if there would be any special projects available this semester. I like to plan ahead and take into account the time needed for good research."

"Well, Allison, there is one project I'm working on for my doctorate. It's downright grueling; long hours and tedious data crunching. There's a little bit of fieldwork, but it's mostly late nights in my study at the library. If you're interested, both of my graduate assistants are otherwise occupied this semester and I could use the help." She gave me a smoky look that some might mistake for academic ambition. "Just meet me tomorrow night in private study 431, near the Folio section on the fourth floor of Nutley Library. See you then." As I gathered up the last of my papers and walked toward the exit of the empty lecture hall, I paused in front of Allison's seat. Before I realized what I was doing, I planted my face against the wood of the seat and inhaled deeply. It was still a bit warm from her restless rump and I definitely detected a whiff of that salty-sweet smell that I hadn't known in a long time.

It's 8:30; I have time for a shower before meeting Mr. Royce at the Library. Stepping into the shower felt so good. After having washed my hair, I grabbed the cherry vanilla scented soap, poured some onto my hand and lathered up. Lost in thought, my hands roamed freely over my breasts, circling around and around, pausing to pay them just enough attention. When I realized how erotic this all felt I continued to cleanse and caress down my belly and into the promised land. Slowly and deliberately touching one fingertip to my clitoris, a jolt ran through me. Then, as I heard the phone ring, I crashed back to reality.

Grabbing my towel and running to the phone, "Hello...yes, this is Allison Vargas...Oh yes...Mr. Royce...I’m running a bit late myself, I should be there in about 20 minutes. Okay...see you then."

Finally dressed, I had selected a short blue skirt, a white sweater and low pumps; simple, but clean and professional. Arriving at the library at 9:10 ready to work. I took a deep breath, smoothed my skirt, and reapplied fresh lipstick before opening the door of private study 431. Wondering what tasks lay before me, he had said the word “grueling,” I hoped that I had not bitten of more than I could chew this time.

"Hi, Allison. Thanks for coming. Remember, if you're not 100% convinced that you want to do this for the whole semester, you can leave a note in my box by the end of the week and no harm, no foul, no hard feelings."

She looked fantastic. She was dressed professionally, but that skirt showed off the unique shapeliness of her legs, remarkable for someone of her size; she couldn't have been more than 5'1” or 5'2”. She was wearing an exceptionally tight sweater that kept screaming, "Look at this fabulous, forbidden bosom! Look! Look!"

I shut my ears to the screams of the tight sweater and averted my eyes from those inviting curves and tried to divert my mind away from her skirt and the panties that were underneath and the scent that I discovered two mornings ago on her seat. We were all business for about 45 minutes. Then she came over to my desk from the worktable to ask me a question.

"Mr. Royce, is this contour map incremented in miles or meters?"

I looked up to see her leaning toward me. She was intent on the map on the desk, but I was busy taking in the slopes of her breasts, seen throughout the neckline of her sweater. Transfixed, I didn't even hear her question.

"Professor?"

Then she realized what I was doing and shyly stood up and put one hand on her chest in a gesture of modesty.

"I'm so sorry, Allison, my mind was...elsewhere."

"Actually, so was mine, Professor."

My abbreviated escapade in the shower had me edgy and aroused. I really was trying to concentrate on what Professor Royce was telling me, but damn! What a nice ass. He was really built, narrow waist, wide shoulders, and weathered skin. I could tell he was passionate about his work, not just theorizing about it like so many others. This was a real turn on. I had to get closer to Professor Royce. I wanted to breathe him in and touch him.

Faking a weak ankle, I fell into the ready and waiting arms of my target. Grasping at his neck and enjoying the feel of his big strong arms I did not want it to stop. Taking a risk, I didn't know if I'd live to regret. I reached up further placing my hands on either side of his head and pulled him down toward me, I opened my mouth sweetly and pressed forward; onward to something I could not deny myself. My tongue leapt forward and traced round his lips. He was sweet like cream and I could not get enough. Seemingly surprised and pleased, he did not pull away, but rather tasted back. His hands roamed fiercely down my back to the bottom of my skirt. I pressed forward, feeling the growing member in his khakis. This brought a smile to my face and my hips did a slow grind, back and forth, to and fro. Breathing raggedly, my hand slipped down his face, feeling the contour of his willing, wanting body. His broad chest and protruding penis were beckoning me to him. I dropped to my knees, unzipped his pants and released the most amazing cock I had ever seen. I could not wait to take him to my lips.

I was so relieved that this beautiful creature had been feeling the same irresistible attraction that I was, that I nearly wept for joy. The strangest things pass through your mind sometimes. For a flash, I was thanking the stars above and any deity that I could think of for allowing my office-mate, Dr. Atticus Heathcliff Stanley to meet his maker in the middle of last term, so I could enjoy the whole room in utter privacy.

Before my new research assistant could continue with the fine work she'd begun, I took her hand, wriggled out of my trousers and led her to the oversized, 50 year-old couch that good old Dr. Stanley was kind enough to leave to me in his will. On our way past the light switch, I turned the overhead fluorescent off, leaving just the glow of our monitors to combat the semi-darkness around us.

Allison was mewing with eagerness to get her bright, full lips around my tool, and as glad as I was to oblige her, I resumed kissing her mouth as we sat on the cool leather. As our tongues danced, my cold fingers sought her warm places. I reached under that little wisp of a skirt and found her slick satin panties warm and sticky with her fragrant honey. I raised my fingers to my face and smelled and tasted that which I hoped for yesterday morning.

"I want more of this, NOW." I said, gesturing with my sticky fingers. Allison smiled bashfully and tilted her head demurely, saying, "Well, we all have things we want..." and she grabbed my shaft with a forceful grip and planted her mouth around me like a woman starved, getting her first meal in months. As she began mercilessly digesting my furiously trembling member, I eased around and under her, so that I was on my back, head between her legs, looking up at her wetness oozing from the edges of her drenched panties. In a fit of mad lust, I popped the button from the back of her skirt, broke the nylon zipper, and yanked skirt and panties down to her knees in one motion. As I helped her slide them past her ankles onto the floor, I gazed back up at the gaping, twitching maw of heaven and buried my face deep within.

My body was trembling, I came the moment his mouth touched my quivering sex. But I could think of nothing other than how magnificent his manmeat tasted. I took him deep, planting a mauve-colored cockring of lipstick around the base of his shaft with my heavily coated lips. In and out, I suckled on his manhood. Grabbing his jewels and rolling them around in my hands I felt the pulsing life force within and couldn't wait to taste his milk. His tongue was so strong and relentless, lapping and sucking my clit. Nipples hardened with the onslaught of yet another crashing orgasm.

"Ohhhhhhh, Professor Royce...."

"Please Allison, call me Lane."

"Oh Lane, please..."

Diving in again, I pumped his sweetmeat in and out of my mouth, planting kisses along the way. I could feel the pulsing of his unit. With a firm grasp on my ass, and a low guttural moan, he shot his load long and hard down my throat. Swallowing repeatedly with my hips wriggling, I too enjoyed the moment and released another offering to his tongue, the god. Dizzy with lust I could hardly think.

Somehow, although I was drunk on her steamy vagina-gin, and nearly unconscious with the gorgeous punishment my prick was receiving, a singular primal thought entered my lust-shrunk brain: to impale this fine specimen and ream her moistness with my spear till she grunted only one-syllable words.

As I detached my mouth’s lips from her mound’s lips, her hips tried to follow me to re-couple the lost connection. But as I sat upright and looked into her fogged-over eyes, she read my purpose immediately and laid herself back, with legs spread, in seconds flat. Her hips never stopped moving, though, and like the twitching of a jungle cat’s tail, this predator’s message was clear. “Damage is about to be done.”

Lane’s mouth was astounding to say the least. It danced a samba across my sex, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through my wanton body. As I laid myself back, he worked his way up from my pulsing pleasure pod. Licking his way up my abdomen, circling my navel, nibbling up to my breasts. He moved slowly and deliberately, making me weak with lust. This man truly knew how to please a woman. My box was hot and steamy, my movements mirrored his and it was as if I had the radar on. I knew he was ready, and I wanted what he was offering. The plum head of his cock rubbed insistently across my clitoris, making me jump and moan. And with a swift, firm motion he entered my body. Pulling my knees to my chest, he plunged deeper, calling my name with each stroke. I whispered his name, greeting him with as much force as I could muster. I was lost and in lust and loving it.

I was varying my speed and depth of penetration, like waves on the seashore. I figured that the ocean and a woman are likewise moved by lunar cycles, but soon my thoughts were unintelligible. After a few wave-like cycles, I slowed almost to a halt. Locking my knees around her hips, and squeezing for that ounce of extra friction, I started a series of micro-thrusts, using the shortest twitches possible. That did it; it brought the animal out of my well-groomed, well-educated student. “Rrrrrr. Yes! Yowl! Ooo! Ooo! AAAHHH!” I followed right behind her with some growls of my own, spurting my seed to mingle with the gallons of cum she had already contributed.

I didn’t want to release my hold on him after he gifted me with yet another orgasm, but I could feel his cock pulsing and twitching as the last of his spent tool eased out of my steaming canal. My nerves were jumping with stray energy, and my body convulsed as the waves of orgasm washed within me. He nuzzled my neck and whispered something I didn’t quite catch, I closed my eyes and gave a quiet “uh hum.” Intertwined limbs covered the moist couch, and he fell into a deep slumber. I watched him as he lay there, holding me tight, sleeping with a look of satisfaction and triumph upon his face. He was heavenly, and had the experience I was looking for to keep me well satiated. I maneuvered my way out from his hold, and thought it best to get home before sunrise.

The next morning I awoke with my face stuck to the leather seat cushion of this antique heirloom sofa. I found my position both funny and sad. But mostly I was glad for the sticky memento of my evening, leather-cleaning bill be damned.

As I dug my toiletry kit out from the depths of my desk, I headed for the nearest bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. As I walked between the pre-dawn stacks, I began to second-guess Allison. I have never been that overwhelmed with fire for someone. I have never in all my years, single, married, and single again, been so overcome with sweat for a woman, nor so content, with so much hope in her arms after the fact. She slipped away with out a word. No note? Was I in over my head? Or would she quietly drop my class and disappear?

After brushing my teeth, I hopped over to the Department Office and checked my box before I went home to shower in earnest.

There was only one item, sealed, with the words "Professor Royce" printed on the outside, distinctly smelling of, well, Allison's sex.

"Don't need all week to decide; if last night is any indication of what this work is like, I'll become your indentured servant if I can’t be your research assistant... -- Allison."