Quote:
Originally Posted by
Sexmanican
So many stories, will take me a few weeks to finish reading
Thanks bro Sexmanican for your support , dun worry just take your time to read the stories and if you do have any you’re welcome to post .
Here’s one story for you -
We Didn’t Eat Lasagna
Since this morning, when you woke up to the sound of the shower turning on and followed me in, I’ve thought about nothing else. You surprised me with your cold hands on my breasts, automatically pinching my already-hard nipples. You traced your hand down my stomach to tease my pussy, getting wetter and wetter as you touched. You began to thrust your fingers inside of me, making me push my hips against yours, grinding back into your massive cock. I tried to swing around and drop to my knees to take you in my mouth, but you had a different plan. You moved your hands to my hips and thrust your throbbing cock inside of me without warning, making me grip the wall of the shower for balance.
You pumped your cock into my pussy for several minutes, alternating between pinching my nipples and fingering my clit to urge me on, my moans pushing you further. I began to cum around you at your touch, and you exploded your cock inside of me.
But, just as quickly as you came, you left. You hopped out of the shower, and I stayed in to continue washing and come down from the high of my orgasm. My knees shook a little, so I took a minute to regain my balance. But, by the time I got out of the shower, you had left for work.
It was unfinished business. Cumming just once in that short of time is unacceptable. Although we are accustomed to our morning quickies, I never feel like I get enough of you to hold me over for the day. After all, on weekends and days off, we might leave bed (or even the house) but we rarely stop fucking. Our sex life is apparently at it’s prime, as we have the sexual stamina of a family of rabbits. We’ve been known to tease under restaurant tables, give oral and hand-jobs in the car, and there’s no doubt our house is the hotspot for voyeurs.
Today, the need to have you was more urgent than usual for me. I always want you when you walk in the door, but we usually at least chat and eat something before retiring to the pool, the bed, or the sofa to make love.
I finished work a half hour earlier and hurried home to make supper. I threw in some lasagna and opened a beer as I leaned against the counter and turned on the TV in the living room. We have a large spacious 3-level house, with a living room right outside the kitchen, but more of a spacious den downstairs. I started flicking through channels on our digital cable. TV movies, kid’s shows, then a hardcore sex scene came onto the screen. I flicked past it quickly, only catching about 4 seconds worth before I realized what it was, but it awakened that pressing need for you that I had been feeling all day. I flicked back for a moment to find a little blonde thing riding a muscular man in a cowboy hat. The position looked appetizing, though not something we hadn’t done a million times before. Nevertheless, I felt myself grow wet—not at the porn, but at the thought of being on top of you, riding you ’til you came. I heard the garage door open and quickly clicked off the TV. You walked through the door and I almost tackled you, not totally realizing my own urgency as I pushed you against the wall just outside our kitchen. I kissed you hard, grinding my hips into you and pressing my tongue into your mouth. Your response was delayed because you weren’t expecting the onslaught. You figured I’d be downstairs in the den working on some project, or watching TV, or preparing dinner. But you were delighted at my abrupt come-on to you.
You pressed one hand into the small of my back with the other wrapped around the back of my head. You took a few steps forward and suddenly had me pressed into the kitchen counter. My automatic instinct kicked in and I pressed my hands to the counter and pushed myself up, now sitting with your body pressing between my legs, still kissing fiercely. Your fingers move to my shirt and untuck it from my slacks, pulling it quickly and urgently over my head before resuming our steamy kiss. Our breathing was rapid and our hips met at random intervals, making us both moan and groan intermediately.
Your lips moved to the bare skin of my chest and the tops of my breasts, barely concealed by a sexy black bra. Your mind wandered as you sucked on the milky flesh about what panties I was wearing, if any at all. Perhaps, if I was this ready to jump you when I had come in the door, I had removed them earlier to make our heated sex easier. You hoped they were still on, knowing how much fun it is to tease me with the fabric, pressing the cotton onto my clit, or sucking my pussy through the lace, or sliding the polyester down my long smooth legs with your teeth. Your thick cock twitched inside your boxers at the naughty thoughts racing through your mind.
Meanwhile, the oven beeped.
“Mmm… dinner… is…. Mmmm baby…. Dinner…” I tried to tell you between kisses and thrusts of our hips that supper was ready in the oven.
“No… you’re dinner… fuck the lasagna… I want you,” you told me bluntly as you ripped my pants from my body and continued sucking on my supple, exposed flesh.
You pushed me back so I was lying on the counter. I moaned at the roughness and anxiousness of your movements, knowing you were as desperate for my body as I was for yours. You left my high heels and black stockings on, revealing a barely-there skimpy red thong. So devilish. So naughty. You Loved it. I reached to turn the oven off so we didn’t burn the house down; because there was no way we were stopping this to eat until we both came numerous times, in numerous positions, in numerous places.
Your teeth gripped the material of the thong and your lips massaged my pussy through the thin lace. You applied no pressure, just the movement of your tongue and teeth along my lower lips, but it was enough to soak the red fabric right through. You tasted my juice, hardening at the thought of me cumming on your tongue. You wanted it, and you wanted it now.
You pulled me off the counter and down to the kitchen floor. There was a sofa about 15 feet away, in front of the big-screen TV that was probably still showing the porno of the blonde and the cowboy, but you didn’t care about comfort. The cold, hard floor served fine as a surface to 69 on. You pulled me to the floor, straddling your face. Immediately, your fingers moved the thong and pulled it aside. You stared hungrily at my gaping pussy, dripping juices down my thighs. You licked the inside of my creamy thighs, keeping your eyes on the bare mound that rests above the delicious parting of my lower lips leading into my wet heaven.
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I unzipped your pants and pulled your throbbing cock from your boxers. I immediately took the tip in my mouth. There was no pre-cum yet, but the gorging veins running up the thick shaft left no doubt of the degree of your total arousal. I ran my tongue along the sides, licking hungrily as you sucked my labia into your mouth, getting delicious drops of my cream running into your mouth. I pushed my pussy down on you and your nose bumped against my clit, sending a shiver down my spine.
Your tongue snakes into my pussy as I take several inches of your huge cock down my throat. The slurping sensations each of us are making with our mouths fill the room. I massage your balls softly and you clamp down on my clit in reaction to the unexpected sensation. I pull off your cock and scream in absolute pleasure as you suck at the entrance to my pussy, my cum spurting into your waiting mouth. I continue to moan as I take your cock back in my mouth, massaging it with my tongue, moistening it.
You press on my hips trying to get me off of you, and you stand me up. You press me back against the counter, kissing me madly as you take my hand. My need is still so animalistic and pressing.
The thought crosses my mind to completely seduce you. I toy with the idea. I walk ahead of you through the hall to the stairway. I take the first step, swaying my hips. I spread my legs slightly as I walk, then turn suddenly on about the fifth step. I sit down but put my foot out to your chest, stopping you. You stand there, in only your boxers, me in my thong, wondering what I’m doing.
I slide my 2 long fingers into my pussy while you watch, spreading my legs in the air, exposing my warm wet flesh to you completely. You move forward but my leg sticks out again. You just stand there in amazement, and begin to stroke your cock. You’ve never watched me play with myself intentionally before… there have been times when you’ve heard me moaning and groaning and peeked in the door as I’m cumming… but I’ve never been an exhibitionist for you. You enjoy it thoroughly.
I kneed my fleshy breasts as I rub my clit in quick circles. I breathe raggedly and my moaning escalates. You see my body tense and you know I’m about to orgasm again. You stroke your cock rapidly as I do, feeling your balls tense. Unsure of what action to take, you thrust your cock into my mouth as I cum hard, unloading your sperm into my throat. I take load after load, swallowing, sucking the tip of your cock as I do. You remain hard after you’ve cum, and pull me to my feet, kissing me intensely. I suck my own cum off my fingers and rush up the stairs, your eyes piercing my body as I bounce in front of you. Not satisfied. You need more. You need to be in me, fuck me, cum in me.
You need me.
You rush after me, finding me in our bedroom. The urge overwhelms you. You grab my hips and pick me up and put me down right next to the bed. You push on the back of my neck so I’m bent at the hips. Your finger presses the thong aside as you thrust your huge cock inside of me. I scream, overwhelmed with pleasure. The whole situation is so exciting: the urgency, the position, the hardness of your dick, the roughness… all of it piles into another orgasm for me.
I grip the sheets of the unmade bed as I thrust my pussy back into your hips. Your hands grip the sides of my hips, allowing you to control the pace with which you fuck me… and the pace is unbearably fast. I feel you pump your second load of the night (a small amount, but a huge orgasm nonetheless) into my throbbing heaven, and you flip me over onto the bed after you do. I feel your lips surrounding only my clit. 3 fingers enter me forcefully and fuck my leaking pussy as I writhe, and you flick my clit with your tongue. The orgasm builds in waves, and finally comes crashing down on my body. I curl my toes, I grip the bed, I scream in absolute pleasure, my thighs close around your head, and my back arches as my pussy squirts cum around your hand and fingers.
I push you away from me for a moment because of how sensitive it is. You lean back on the soft carpeted floor to catch your breath but soon find me straddling your lap. I take your entire cock back into my velvety pussy, riding you just like the woman on TV earlier. I put my legs out straight and you sit up. I rest my weight on my palms, arching my back forward, allowing you to press into me deeper, rubbing against my g-spot. You press your thumb into my clit as I ride on top of you, and your eyes are glued to my bouncing breasts. God, how you want to take them in your mouth, then rub your cock between them.
You told me once that there’s not a more beautiful sight than being able to look down and see two gorgeous breasts enveloping your cock, other than maybe seeing it slip in and out of my tiny, shaved pussy.
I felt your hardon twitch inside of me, and I wondered why. I saw your eyes on my breasts but, before I could really figure out what to do, I started to orgasm around your cock again. The pressure forced you over the top because of the tremendous sensitivity of your dick after the 2 previous orgasms. You spurted inside of me, grunting and groaning as your fingers dug into my hips.
Spent, I lay back on the floor, and you did as well. My hips were tired, my breasts were sore from bouncing, my fingers were spent, and my voice was worn. My chest heaved as I tried to catch a rhythm with my breathing. Our bodies were sprawled out across the floor after our vigorous fuck. Finally, I heard your voice pierce the silence.
“Baby…” you said, tentatively.
“Yeah, sweetie,” I replied, looking over to you.
“I’m not in the mood for lasagna tonight…” you said with a smile.
I laughed wearily. “Oh? What would you like for supper then, dear?” I cooed.
“Hmm… that lovely body of yours in the shower ought to do it…” You winked at me.
I couldn’t believe that you wanted another round… but I couldn’t seem to turn it down, no matter how spent I was. I still had the fire burning within me, and I hoped maybe the water from the shower would put it out, if not another spurt of cum from your cock. You got up and helped me to my feet, pulling me to your body, kissing me passionately. I felt my body regain its strength as your cock hardened between us. We walked into the bathroom and climbed into the shower, feeling the water heat on our bodies and splash across our overly sensitive skin.
You take my body into yours once again, your fingers trailing across my breasts and pinching each erect nipple. Your mouth surrounded one, sucking but being gentle, knowing too much would just hurt altogether.
You felt my body moving against yours, and you’re now erect again. I raise my left leg and wrap it around your body, stroking you firmly as you enter my pussy. Not as tight as it was at the beginning of the night, but still perfectly delicious around your cock.
You begin to thrust into me, knowing you’ll last a lot longer this time because of how much you’ve cum this evening. You bite my neck, urging me on, wanting to feel me cum on you before you pull out to finish off. And I do. Not as hard this time, because of my exhaustion, but my body shudders and clenches and I moan loudly into your ear as I orgasm around you. You pull out of me after the orgasm has subsided and press on my shoulders. I drop to my knees and take you in my mouth. My jaw is a bit sore but I manage to deep throat you. You moan as the water runs over your balls—a mixed sensation, and totally pleasing.
You pull out of my mouth, and I know what you want. You bend your knees and I arch my back, pressing my large, swollen breasts around your cock. You smile as you thrust hard into my chest, and moan loudly when my tongue licks at the engorged tip of your huge member as you titty fuck me. I can feel your balls slapping against the underside of my breasts, but when they tense up, I open my mouth, waiting for one last deposit of your scrumptious cum.
And you do. It’s not much, but it’s enough! I suck on the tip as you massage the large swells of my breasts, with the hot water running over us both. We stand, holding each other in the shower, completely spent and unable to move for the fear of toppling over because of the weakness in our knees. We wrap our arms around each other until the water grows cold. We dry off weakly, then drop into bed. I curl up into you, my naked body still glowing from our long, orgasmic encounter. Your fingers graze across my nipple, causing my body to jump. You laugh at my involuntary reaction, and kiss me goodnight.
In the morning, we walk downstairs finding a scattering of business clothes on the kitchen floor. I bend over to take the lasagna out of the oven and put it away and feel your hand smash down on my ass. I jump at the sting of the hard slap. You press me into the counter, untie my robe, and our morning quickie is on the kitchen counter. My robe drapes across the sides of my breasts and you see bite marks and hickies strewn across my chest. You grin as you cum all over the inside of my thighs, then massage it in to the creamy smooth skin around my pussy, letting a finger dip in occasionally. You slip your pants back on and head to work.
I lean against the counter, still unsatisfied and craving your body, wondering what I should make for dinner tonight.
The End
Middle of the Night
You come into my room and see that I’m curled up under the covers in my bed. I am sleeping, but I won’t be for long. You pull back my blankets and without a word lift my hips and push a pillow beneath me. I’ve begun to wake, but it’s unclear to me yet as to what exactly is going on.
Not a word is exchanged as you lift my night shirt up and pull my panties up tight between my cheeks. I let out a small moan as I realize what’s going to happen. You tap my leg to signal me to spread my legs, and I do so without the slightest bit of protest. I feel a tap again this time on my inner thigh to tell me that my legs must be spread wider still. I spread them a good few feet apart and instinctively push my bottom out. I feel your cool fingers roaming over my butt and it gives me goosebumps. Your other hand grabs the waistband of my panties and pulls tighter. Without letting go of my panties, you spank my bottom about 10 times, very quickly and very hard. I squeal and my right foot flies up unexpectedly.
We have yet to say a word to one another, and the silence is starting to make me feel a little uneasy. You are quick to grab my ankle and firmly place my leg back in its place. I hear you unbuckle your belt, and slide through the belt loops. You fold one side leaving about a foot of length. I feel five very distinct strokes, all on my right leg. The first lands at the top of my thigh, the second above the knee, then the top of my calf, followed by another one about six inches below that, and the last one landing on the bottom of my foot. I dare not move, I know without being told that moving is exactly what earned me those five strokes.
You just let me lay there for a few minutes, allowing the pain in my leg to sink in. You lay the belt down next to me, I can smell the leather.
You’re hand goes between my legs and you run a finger over the cotton that’s started to get just a little damp. You push the fabric aside and push one finger into my pussy, I let out a long moan. I am very wet and you wiggle your finger around a bit before pulling it out and picking up the belt once again.
The strokes come steadily down on my bottom. I do my best to stay perfectly still and be a good girl, hoping that if my behavior is so good I might receive a reward. Once my bottom is pink and burning like mad you have me sit up on my knees.
You dangle something new in front of me, all I can tell is that it’s a series of small chains. I soon figure out what it is though. As it turns out there are exactly three small chains all connected to one point, and at the end of each chain is a clamp that can be secured as tightly or as loosely as you please.
You have me take off what clothing I have on and lay on my back, my knees propped up and spread. You attach the first clamp to the left nipple, it doesn’t feel too tight and I actually feel a little disappointed. The second clamp is attached in the same way to my right nipple, as is the third one attached to my clit. However, you soon turn my disappointed in the tightness of the clamps to rather intense pain. Each clamp is tightened one at a time, very slowly. Also, there is very little slack between the chains, so any movement causes the clamps to pull from all three spots.
Just to make sure you have my attention you take the center ring where each chain is attached and you pull up. I gasp and try to raise my body up with the clamps, but I can only reach so far and you continue to pull. Although it’s painful, I’m incredibly aroused. You straddle my body, one knee on either side.
You lean down and speak into my ear, the first words that you’ve spoken to me all night, “You are not allowed to touch, or rub against the bed or pillows, and I am not going to touch you, but if you come when I pull these clamps off that’s just fine.”
You get up and sit at the edge of the bed and you motion for me to kneel in front of you. I do so and you attach a leash to the center ring of the clamps, which you firmly tug on, but the clamps stay in place. You undo the fly on your pants and pull your cock out.
Knowing what is expected of me, I start by licking the head and then all the way down the shaft before I take it into my mouth. Sucking softly, slowly taking more into my mouth. You are steadily pulling on the clamps, which causes me to move in closer and take more into my mouth. I know I can’t take all of your cock, not yet, but I do my best.
I swirl my tongue around and suck harder. Soon I can feel you pulling tighter and tighter on the chain, and the clamps are pulling off. You come into my mouth as the clamps snap off, yet no orgasm flows through me. A bit of your come went down my throat, but I take my mouth off and open it to show you I saved most of it. You nod your head and I swallow the rest of it down.
You take a few minutes to recover before helping me back into bed and tucking me in, leaving me with a kiss on my forehead.
The End
Electric Love
She lay on the bed, naked, alone with her thoughts. Earlier that evening her husband had greeted her at the door with a kiss and had whispered something in her ear about it being a “special” night. He’d accompanied her to the bathroom where he’d helped her out of her clothing and drawn a nice warm, relaxing bath for her. After gently scrubbing her he’d then left her to soak with the instruction to call him when she was ready get out of the tub. There hadn’t been anything unusual about this scenario; they often bathed each other as a prelude to enjoying an evening of sex.
When they’d married, she’d initially been a bit reserved in their lovemaking but he’d applied himself to the task of awakening her libido until, after nearly thirty years of marriage, she gave as good as she received in the bedroom. She was secretly pleased that, unlike so many of her friends, she and her husband still had an active and imaginative sex life.
Finished with her bath, she called him back and he dried her off with a warm towel while explaining that tonight he wanted to try something a bit different. Placing a blindfold on her, he led her naked from the bath to their bedroom and bid her lie down on the bed. Once lying there, he had taken each wrist and ankle in turn and applied a soft restraint, pulling her limbs gently taut and fastening them to the corners of their king-size bed.
He explained that he’d blindfolded her in order to free her imagination and that the restraints were to heighten her anticipation of what was about to happen. Tying her would make it possible for her to only receive his tender caresses and not return his advances. Kissing her softly he drew a coarse woolen blanket over her naked form and withdrew from the room.
After the bath, the warmth of the room and the blanket enveloped her body and allowed her mind to drift to the countless times they had enjoyed sex together. Both the long, slow lovemaking as well as those times when, as if on cue, an unknown force had bidden them to tear at each others clothing and wordlessly join in a frenzied spiral to a volatile climax. Lying there with only her thoughts and her remaining senses, she relaxed and listened to the quiet sounds of her own slow breathing. She became aware of the scratchy texture of the blanket on her nipples, belly and thighs as her breasts slowly rose and fell beneath the wool as she inhaled and exhaled.
Her thoughts were soon interrupted as her lover silently returned to her bedside. She felt the lower half of the blanket peeled back exposing her legs from mid-thigh down. Grasping each ankle, he applied something to each inner calf just above the bonds that were holding her stretched and open on the bed.
He broke his silence; explaining that he had applied an adhesive electrode above each ankle and that he would connect these to a small, battery operated device which, when turned on, would send pulses of current up one leg, through her vulva and back to the other leg. He turned on the switch and ramped up the current until she told him that she could feel it. Replacing the blanket, he again kissed her and told her that he wanted her lie there a bit more to observe what was happening to her body.
Hearing him again leave the room she thought she must be mad for going along with this. She loved and trusted her husband, but at this moment she felt very vulnerable. As she slowly relaxed she became aware of the regular pulses of electricity running up her leg to her pussy. She soon realized that they perfectly matched her slightly elevated heartbeat and, before long, she noticed that her vaginal muscles had begun to contract in sympathy with each electrical pulse. At the same time she felt her outer labia swelling and parting in response to the rhythm coursing through her while her pussy moistened with excitement.
Her body became increasingly sexually charged and her husband again returned to her side and joined her on the bed. He began by kissing her softly, running his hands over her; exploring her curves and all the various peaks and hollows of her naked form. Murmuring his approval at her response to his touch he kissed her more passionately running his hand slowly over her breasts and belly, until he reached the parting of her legs. His index and ring fingers expertly opened her and she could feel the warmth of his middle finger poised above but not quite touching her clit. Minutes went by with his finger tantalizingly close, but not touching her, until she silently willed him to proceed and stroke her clit, bathing his fingers in the moisture that was now flowing freely from her cunt.
She begged him now to allow her to touch him and he finally relented and freed her left hand from its’ restraint. She gratefully ran her free hand over his face and chest, still blindfolded, as if to confirm that the man in her bed was indeed her husband. She reached down to take his cock in her hand and gasped when she realized how aroused her lover had become without the benefit of her touch. In her blind state his cock felt bigger than she remembered it and as she grasped it a small amount of fluid leaked into her palm indicating an advanced state of readiness on his part.
He continued to stroke her softly as he deftly teased her into an unbearable state of arousal. Each minute seemed like an eternity while she waited for the touch that would send her into uncontrollable ecstasy. His fingers were slowly plunging deeply into her vagina, stopping only to stroke her swollen g-spot before sliding languorously out and over her pulsing clit very lightly. When he was inside of her, they both were aware of the contractions of her pussy, moving in sympathy with the electric pulses running from her ankles to her dilated cunt.
Abandoning her body to his caresses and kisses she felt herself building toward release. He stroked her clit more insistently, while still in rhythm with the electric pulses. Spreading her labia with two fingers, he began to tap her swollen clit with his middle finger harder and harder as she spiraled up and up to a tumultuous climax. Her legs and body shook with the power of her first orgasm as she strained against her restraints.
He then reentered her with his fingers, probing her deeply while seeking her g-spot. Now she could only feel her vaginal contractions moving in sync with the current flowing through her legs. Massaging her g-spot while pulling on her nipples had her cumming again in no time and she cried out as she squeezed his fingers as if to hold him in her cunt forever.
She demanded his cock and he obliged by slowly inserting it until the tip was at the perfect depth. Using his muscles, he moved his cock in contact with her g-spot while still in sync with her vaginal contractions. This produced a wonderful series of endless, rolling climaxes as she begged him to fuck her hard and cum in her right now. Driving his cock as deeply into her as he physically was able, they both climaxed together powerfully.
Remaining inside her for a moment he freed her right hand and covered her face and neck with kisses while brushing the damp curls away from her eyes. Then he gently withdrew his cock and untied her legs. Unbound, she rolled a leg over between his legs and placed her pussy into close contact with his thigh. Their cum flowed out between them gluing their bodies together while they inhaled the combined scent of their lovemaking.
“Next time”, she said smiling, “I tie you up”!
The End
Training the Professor
It was my Sophomore year in college when I dominated my history professor. His name was Professor O’Reilly, but he made the big mistake on the first day of telling the entire class they could just call him “Jim.”
Those professors that insisted the students call them by first name always intrigued me. I mean, what were they thinking? Trying to fit in, to recapture their youth perhaps by not being too old, too out of touch to be on a first name basis with the entire class?
Or was it an attempt at bringing a casual nature to the classroom, to revolutionize education by engaging students who would otherwise be nodding off, because, after all, they were just hanging out with Jim?
Sitting in the second row, close to the door, I caught Professor Jim looking at my legs. I was in a tennis skirt and Adidas since I had tennis class after History. His glance was unmistakable. Then he kind of looked at my eyes, but kept on talking. He had this apologetic gaze about him, though.
I pursed my lips. And I was doodling in my notebook. “Bad boy,” I think I wrote. Very, very bad boy.
My non-major courses in college sucked. I was whizzing my advertising courses and business management classes, but things like History and Polysci were the death of me. I’d spend the entire time imagining elaborate ways to torture men or writing short stories about kidnappings and turning boyfriends into sex slaves.
That quarter I was between relationships, rushing a sorority and on the tennis team, so I didn’t have much time to pursue my interest in dominating men. That’s not to say I didn’t think about it, though.
In fact, it was only the second week of history class that I was sitting in the front row, showing off just the right amount of thigh, waiting for Professor Jim to take notice. He was a handsome man; very Irish, dark hair (almost black) and blue eyes, the way I like my men. He was young for a professor – probably in his first year at the university (that explained the whole “Jim” thing). Naïve.
How terribly naïve.
The next time I went to class, I wore a low-cut top and approached him after class, leaning against the podium, feigning dumb-blondness (tough call for a smart brunette) and told him, point blank, that I missed half the class because I was day dreaming.
The professor looked at me, slightly nervous, I could tell, and pushed his glasses up as he looked down, shoving his books into his oversized bookbag. “Well, Janie, you need to be a little more focussed. I can suggest a little reading to help you catch up on what you missed today.”
“Could you tell I was daydreaming?” I asked him, standing painfully close, watching him try to ease back and regain his safe space.
He started to speak, but I cut in.
“Or were you too busy trying to figure out the color of my panties?”
The professor looked at me, blinking. Oh, he was shocked alright. But I just smiled, turned away, through my backpack over one shoulder and sauntered out.
Then the next day, in class, I held up a white piece of paper when I saw him looking my way during his talks about the Civil War.
It had one word on it.
“PINK”.
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I knew I didn’t have time to stall on this one as it was an accelerated class. So I made my way to his office the next week, during his posted hours. The minute he looked up and saw me enter I could see the nervousness come over him.
But before he could speak I shut the door behind me, let my book bag fall to the floor, leaning back against the doorknob as he stood.
He was already fiddling with his glasses, his dark, thick hair hanging over one eye and his hands scrambling to shove some papers into a folder. “Janie. Hi. Come on in.”
“I’m in,” I said slowly, deliberately. I looked him up and down. I can’t explain to you the look, but it was definitely one of ownership and possibility. Here I was, a 19-year old in my professor’s office, and I had all the control.
When he stepped around his desk to pull out a chair, he knocked a stack of books off the corner of the desk and scrambled to lean down and pick them up.
“That isn’t a cheap excuse to look up my skirt, is it, Professor Jim?”
He chuckled to humor me, scraping up his books but not looking up to even acknowledge the comment with eye contact. I stepped over, slowly, and put a foot right where his hand was, threatening to lower it and crush his fingers.
When he looked up, curious, I was smiling.
“Off-white,” I said. “Thong. Want to see?”
He swallowed, but stayed crouching down, holding his books on one thigh. He blinked at me from behind his glasses and said, coolly, “Janie, I think you should leave.”
I raised my eyebrows, “What, I don’t get any extra help before exams Friday? I have some questions for you, Professor Jim.”
He just stared.
“Are you going to get up, or do you like it down there on the floor?” I asked him as I pulled the chair out and sat down, carefully crossing my legs, putting on my own glasses and opening my notebook.
The professor cleared his throat, got up quickly, set his books down with a thud and moved around to his side of the desk, obviously grateful for the barrier that was now between us, and that would hide the erection that was visible in his trousers.
I proceeded with my questions. I can’t remember them all now, but they were genius. They started off very normal, and with each question they would get more sexual in nature, until I was asking him if he thought Hitler liked to get fucked in the ass.
“Pardon me?” he stuttered, his eyebrows raised curiously at me.
I leaned forward slowly. “Do you know anything about anal sex, Professor?”
“I hardly think this is appropriate.”
“I think the sexual relationships of some of history’s most intriguing figures is definitely appropriate. I think it would shed a lot of light on their motivations. I personally think some of the most tyrannical men in history probably were closet submissives.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, now focussed on his papers on his desk, shuffling things around.
“I think you do know,” I told him. “I think you have considered submission yourself. I think you enjoyed being down on the floor by my feet earlier. I think you enjoy me manhandling you right now. I bet you’re hard in your pants just from the tone of my voice.”
He stopped everything, let out a laugh, then shook his head at me. “Janie, you have quite an imagination. I hope you are putting it to good work in some of your advertising classes.”
“How did you know I was an ad major?” I asked without a beat.
His face turned serious. “I know what all my students study,” he defended at once. “I make it a point to know.”
I stood up slowly and he backed into his chair, almost knowing what was about to happen. That I was coming toward him, for him, and about to take things to an entirely new level.
Meanwhile, I was on fire. My short skirt barely hid the thigh highs and garters, and my thong was already soaked. I stood, and as I spoke, I very casually, very slowly, reached under my skirt and started removing my thong.
“Professor,” I said calmly. “I think you know about me because you want me. I think you have wanted me since the first day when you were looking at my legs. I have caught you sneaking glances up my skirt when I uncross my legs. I have found you standing with a big bulge in your pants in the middle of a lecture, and I know it’s because you are thinking about sticking your tongue in my pussy.”
I could tell he was about to stand up to order me to leave. His face got all stern and his cheeks flushed. But he did not stand; I knew why. He was rock hard and knew it would show. He was trapped behind that desk.
And I was loving it.
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So he sat there, frozen, as I placed my wet thong panties right on his desk. He watched as if pretending none of it was going on. I leaned over on my elbows on his desk, pressing my breasts together in my low cut blouse, ensuring he had a great view down my top. But his eyes stayed on me.
I picked up the thong and held it up with my pinky, twirling it around a little. “Well, I’ve thought about it too, Professor. I’ve thought about you on that desk of yours, the one you sit on when you lecture. I’ve thought about you bent over it while I take to your ass with a ruler.”
I saw him swallow. I saw the first beads of sweat forming. I was getting to him, and it turned me on more than anything. He was frozen, unable to do anything.
I leaned over the desk to peer down at his crotch but he grabbed a book and put it on his lap, hissing, “You should leave. "
“Not until I get a peek, teacher,” I grinned, reaching down with my other hand to pry the book away. “What’s the matter, afraid of your little dick?”
“Janie, you need to leave, right now.”
I frowned at him, then pouted. I pursed my lips at him and sighed. Then I tossed the thong at him so it landed in his lap and stood up straight. “I thought you could handle it. Guess I was wrong. Later, Jim.”
Then I turned and walked away, smiling once at him over my shoulder, knowing he was probably sitting there with my panties in his lap thinking about my fine, naked ass under that short skirt, and how long I would go the rest of the day totally naked under there.
I wondered how long it would be before he masturbated into my thong.
I looked at my watch. Not long, I thought.
Even at 19, I was a bright femdom. I knew what to do next.
I ignored him.
I kept my head down in class, I focussed on my work. He always was looking at me – not much at first, but then more and more, probably unsure of why I was suddenly ignoring him, relieved but somehow disappointed that I had lost my fascination with him.
All men are that way. You get them hard once, you show them you know what you are doing, they wuss out on you and then when you dump them, they come crawling back and beg for more.
What’s worse, I got As on my tests and papers. He could find no fault with my work. I sat next to my best friend, Jeannie Turkleson, and the two of us giggled before class, and I could see him lingering around his desk waiting for class to start, wondering, hoping, we were talking about him.
But I would have nothing to do with him. I was the first one out of class when the time was up, and I was the last one sauntering in, just in before the start of class.
Two weeks later, he lectured with a ruler in his hand, sitting on the desk. He lectured about something he was obviously passionate about, but was nonchalantly rubbing the ruler on his leg, then tapping it a little.
And then he looked at me.
I grinned. “That little fuck,” I whispered to myself.
And I knew he was mine.
That day, after class, I paddled his ass red in his office with that ruler.
I came into the office, slammed the door, and he turned to me, startled, catching his breath.
“Over the desk,” I hissed. Oh, I had the tone. I had the tone, and I had the look. I was already pulling my fingerless gloves from my backpack and putting them on, and his trousers showed a rock hard erection just begging to get out.
“Lock the door,” he hissed in a whisper.
I slammed a chair into the door so no one would come in, then reached for his trousers.
He was backing up, into the wall, breathing down at me, looking at me. God, I could tell he had been fantasizing about me. Non stop. In fact, I bet those panties were right in his top drawer. His erection poked into me through his pants, and he was holding my face in his hands. He was leaning down to kiss me.
I pushed him away.
“I’m not a skanky fuck for you, Professor. This is about my pleasure, not yours. Understand?”
“Yes, Janie,” he breathed.
I took the ruler from his desk and pulled down his pants, turning him around and bending him over the desk. He held the edges of the desk so tight his knuckles started turning white. What a sight he was – and his body was even better than I thought.
I took some time moving my fingers, my nails up and down his chest under his shirt, then down around the curves of his hips, then finally digging into his tight, round ass cheeks. They were white – soon to be cherry, I smiled.
And he had no idea, no idea in hell, how much a ruler would hurt.
After the first smack, which wasn’t even a hard one, he bucked into the desk so hard the books toppled off the other side and he gasped and started to get up but I pushed him back down. “Not so fast, Professor,” I hissed.
“God I want to touch you,” he said.
It was apparent that the professor was a horny man. In his fantasies, I knew, he always got what he wanted – his tongue in my pussy, his dick in me, or up my ass. A blow job by a hot little co-ed sorority chick on her knees, sucking him off for that A+ grade. I knew Professor Jim was not the type, not in a million years, but even the most straight and narrow still fall prey to the fantasy, and still find themselves unable to stop thinking about it when it looks like it might happen to them.
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“You are so beautiful,” he hissed as the third smack of the ruler landed solidly on his right ass cheek. I stopped to massage his round cheek and admired my handy work - -the definite outline of a rectangular imprint, bright red, was shining through. I reached under his ass to find his cock, sure enough, it was throbbing and oozing pre-cum.
“The Professor is a nasty, nasty little boy,” I said, pushing into his ass, rubbing my crotch into him suggestively as I massaged his balls and the base of his cock. He was moaning and groaning and twisting, trying to hold still but failing miserably.
“I want to please you,” he said. He was indeed Mr. Submissive, I found, and probably had never even known it, that’s why he was falling prey so hard to the swats on his ass and my massaging of his balls, the pressing of my index finger into the crack of his ass, threatening to penetrate him, god forbid.
His yelps started getting louder, and sure enough when I opened the top drawer of his desk I found my panties right there. Soiled and crusty – dirty. Obviously he’d cum into them, the nasty bitch, and god knows what else.
He craned his head around, mortified that I had found them. Ironic, since he was perfectly comfortable bent over his desk with his pants down around his ankles.
“You’ve been cumming into my panties!” I hissed.
I pushed a finger into his ass right as I leaned over and shoved the soiled thong into his mouth when he opened it to gasp in shock and pain. I’d lubed the finger when he wasn’t looking so it slid in easier than I thought, but he tightened every muscle he had and was howling into the crusted thong that filled his mouth.
Then I gave him fifteen more swats on each cheek, made him kiss the ruler, then kiss my ass, once on each cheek.
He was all sweaty and his eyes were red, he gingerly was positioning himself upright and looking to embrace me, probably for reassurance.
So I gave him a quick hug, then surely I felt his hand reaching down for my ass, his lips on my neck. He thought was going to get laid.
“I’ve got to go,” I said. “My friends are waiting.”
And I packed up my stuff and split.
The next day in class I watched, amused, as Professor Jim did not sit once on the edge of his desk. No, he stood there the whole time, careful to not even more, and avoiding eye contact the whole time.
Poor Jim moved gingerly and slowly, he had considerably less energy and looked like he had not slept a wink. I felt a smug sense of accomplishment as I listened to his lecture idly, more interested in thinking about the party that was coming up on Friday and the jock I was hoping to get into bed.
Next thing I knew people were passing back slips of white paper. I snapped out of my daydream wondering if we were having a pop quiz, only to find out it was another one of Professor Jim’s cool progressive teaching concepts. We were going to pick the questions for our own finals.
I smirked as I passed the paper back to the people behind me. Professor Jim was pacing, explaining the rules. We would all write two questions on the piece of paper, anonymously, and he would select the best 25 questions for the exam. He wanted us to think about what we, as tomorrow’s leaders (ok I made that part up), though were the most important things to come away from the class with.
Everyone had their pencils and pens moving in hyper speed, writing what they thought would be the easiest questions of course, everyone trying to save their own skin.
“Nothing blatantly obvious,” Professor Jim added. Sounds of crumbled up papers started to permeate the room, followed by a round of chuckles and the passing around of more paper.
Of course, my contribution was unique. I took out my red pen and wrote neatly, “I want to sit on your face.”
After we turned in our papers we were supposed to read Chapter 17 quietly while he went through them at the front of the room, taking notes. Of course I just watched him, watched his expressions, trying to identify when he saw my paper.
Sure enough, I saw his eyes read through it, once, then twice, blinking to be sure. Then he folded it up and looked right at me. I smiled, holding my pen to my lips seductively, my long legs sticking out from under the desk, crossed at the ankles.
“Janie,” he said softly, not getting up. “Could you see me after class please?”
“Sure,” I said.
And everyone looked at me.
So I stood there at the podium as people rushed out of the class, waiting to see what Professor Jim had to say to me. I predicted it was a re-evaluation of our “relationship” and request for me to stop. I figured after sleeping on it, on a sore ass all night, he would realize he was fucked.
He had the folded up piece of paper in his fingers. He looked at me seriously. Big blue eyes behind those glasses, his hair tucked back behind his ears. He looked so cute, I had to admit.
“Janie,” he said, slipping the piece of paper back to me. “I think you need to submit new questions.”
I took the piece of paper and nodded, smiling slightly. “Ok. Sorry. I was just kidding around.”
He smiled affectionately, but almost condescending, as he patted my hand like a typical professor to a student. But he let his fingers linger as he pulled away, and he looked at me. And I saw it in his eyes. Urgency. Need. Helplessness.
I turned and walked out of class, a little confused at the mixed messages.
Until finally I opened the folded piece of paper he had given back to me. Under my scribbled request to sit on his face he had written clearly, “Tonight at 8pm. Ratskellar.”
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The Ratskellar was a pretty popular bar right outside of town. It was odd to me that he picked such a frequently traveled place to meet up, but I realized he was naïve, and was not used to seducing students or being made into a slave by one.
Of course, I found this all really amusing. And I did go to the Ratskellar that night. But I went with girlfriends, and we ordered a few pitchers and sat in the back so I could watch the Professor stand there at the bar, alone, for an hour waiting for me to show up (which I did not).
And it got me wet, of course, watching him vainly sit there hoping to see me, watching the door eagerly, his hopes squashed finally when he gave it up and paid the bartender. I kept my head down when he walked past our table and he never even saw me.
Poor thing, I thought.
It was obvious he was hoping to score with me. He was less into the spankings and humiliation and more into wanting to get his dick between my strong thighs, to fuck a ripe 19 year old with a great body and beautiful long hair.
I sipped my beer and smirked. Not a chance.
Don’t get me wrong; I fantasized about the professor a lot. In my dorm room, when my roommate was out partying, I had one really hot night of fantasy about Professor Jim. It had everything – romance, passion, raunchy sex. I was sitting on his face in his office, pumping slowly, making him use his tongue on me.
I was still in my tennis skirt and shoes, and my doubles partner, a hot blonde who I really had a thing for, was sharing him with me. Tina was working his ass with a vibrator and looking at me seductively, we’d lean into each other and make out from time to time, two soft tongues intertwining to the sounds of a muffled professor’s pleading, lost somewhere down under my ass cheeks.
It was a blur, the whole fantasy, a mish mash of oral sex and cock sucking, culminating in him fucking me doggie style over his desk while Tina used that ruler on his ass to keep him up tempo, the way I needed it in that position. He fucked me until it started to hurt, until I screamed in orgasm because his dick was so hard it nearly split me. His hands were around me, holding my breasts and pinching my nipples, and he was such a good fuck I never wanted to stop sleeping with him.
Of course, this was all fantasy. But it was good fantasy.
In class, the next week, the professor seemed downcast. He obviously felt rejected and sad and looked at me once solemnly. He did his entire lecture from the stool at the podium, never even standing, not walking around, waving his arms, animated and passionate about the subject.
He kept his head down a lot, pushing up his glasses, looking his train of thought.
I left class early that day, I heard him lose his place when I collected my things and made my way to the door. I knew my A in the class was a dead lock; I had better things to do.
Like his TA.
Jesse Creighton was Professor Jim’s teaching assistant. A senior history major, Jesse was a typical college stud with a twist – he was brilliant. He and I had met at a party that weekend in the dorms, and as soon as I found out he was the Professor’s TA, my plan came together in my head.
And it didn’t hurt that Jesse was gorgeous. He had an awesome body, was 24 and could have any girl on campus. Of course, after a night making out and feeling each other up in the South Hall dorms I was the one he wanted. We fucked all night – like rabbits – two of the last people on the planet. We sucked, we licked, we did everything. I think we fucked about seven times between 2am and 11am the next day.
What’s better is that I knew Jesse had a big mouth and liked to tell everyone about it. I was pretty sure he probably would tell Professor Jim, even, because the two were known to hang out and have beers on Tuesday nights and shoot the shit.
I could imagine what the professor would think when he found out the types of sex I had with his TA.
He’d definitely realize his position then, and understand that if, and when, he was ever to have sex with me it’d be on my terms only. And that it was not likely.
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The next week I went up to the podium after class to collect my final paper. Professor Jim was standing there, looking serious. He had been looking at me longingly all week and I just smirked at him, dangling a high heeled shoe in his direction.
“I’d like to talk to you about your paper, Janie,” he said, handing me the folder with his scribble marks all over the cover.
I glanced at it with little regard the shoved it under my arm into my book bag. “I can’t, I gotta go..I have friends waiting and stuff I need to take care of, I’m super busy this afternoon.”
He lowered his voice and leaned forward, looking at me pleadingly. “Janie,” he whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I have to see you. Tell me when you can see me.”
I sighed and thought, rolled my eyes, looked away, and started running through my calendar in my head.
Then I heard Jesse’s voice. “Hey cutie pie!” he said as he entered the room. I could feel the professor’s gaze burn into me, then look at Jesse, and back at me.
The built ball player was behind me, kissing me on the back of the neck. I giggled and spun around and we kissed, a long, wet, messy kiss, right there in the middle of the classroom as students filed in and out between courses.
Professor Jim, of course, was silent. In shock.
“You wanna grab a bite?” Jesse asked me, his hand just kind of lingering on my ass over the skirt the way jocks tend to do.
“Sure, I’d love to!”
Jesse waved a hand at the Professor. “Back in an hour, teach.”
And I made sure to pull Jesse’s mouth to me once or twice as we made our way out, and I said, “Let’s make it a few hours,”
Then he grabbed my ass and I giggled, and we were gone.
The poor professor was downcast the next day. He looked like he had gotten even less sleep the night before. Probably up all night thinking of the stories Jesse had told him, about how I fucked him like a psycho bitch, about how I could fuck for hours, how strong my thighs were. About how I loved my body, loved to masturbate for men. How I was totally bi and had at threesome with him on our second date, bringing my best friend over and saying, “I like to share with my friends, is that ok?”
I’m sure Jesse told him how I liked to tie him up and ride his face, how I liked to have sex in the nastiest ways, for him to fuck me in the ass even and of course how I like to have my crack licked clean. Oh, I’m sure Jesse shared all of the best details.
Meanwhile, the professor was feeling inadequate, insecure, discarded, and definitely obsessing about how he’d never get to fuck me. He was thinking about how lucky he would be if he could ever even just kiss my feet – anything.
I’m sure he was thinking about how he’d crawl a mile just to suck a dick that had been inside of me. How he’d worship any soiled garments I pushed his way, or lick the dirt from the bottom of my shoes.
He knew, now, what a goddess I was, and that he’d been lucky I’d even turned my eyes on him. And he knew he had been a toy for me, that I was the one in control, and he had been played like an instrument.
So it came to no shock to me that when I slipped him a note asking him to be at the Ratskeller at 9pm that night he was there by 8:30, all dressed up.
I waited until 9:25 and made my entrance, wearing a tight black dress, pumps, and my hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
He looked at me hopefully as I pulled up to the bar. His eyes were wide. “You look great,” he said, swallowing.
“Thanks,” I replied, placing my purse on the table. “I’m going to party,” I explained. “So I just have five minutes.”
I could see his shoulders slump. “I was hoping I could buy you a drink, maybe take you to dinner.”
I laughed. A sweet laugh, looking into my makeup mirror as I re-applied lipstick. “I can’t, I’m seeing Jesse. You know that.”
“Look, Janie,” he whispered, leaning over and looking at me desperately. “I cannot stop thinking about you. About what you do to me. I – I am totally infatuated with you.”
“I know.” I said simply.
There was a silence.
“What can I do?” he begged, holding my hand with his, squeezing my fingers. “I’ll do anything to be with you, anything.”
Of course, begging always gets me going. I looked at the professor and smiled. I smiled and searched his expression. Oh, he was being painfully honest. “You can be with me,” I told him. “As my slave.”
He nodded. He gave in at once.
“You will do as I say, when I say. Be available when I call.” I leaned over and put a hand to his crotch, pressing into the bulge that was so apparent. “Your dick will be mine. You don’t cum, you don’t touch it, you don’t even think about it without asking me first.”
The professor nodded and brought my fingers to his lips to kiss them.
I stood and opened my purse, taking out a slip of paper and placing it on the bar. “And you say a word about any of this, I publish this in the school paper.”
It was, of course, the proposition he had sent me, foolishly in his own writing, the week before. It had been graphic and quite forward, and certainly means for being ejected from the university.
But, deep down, I felt he sent it on purpose, hoping I would blackmail him in just that way.
As I made my way to the door I could feel him staring after me, pleadingly, holding the paper tightly between his fingers.
He was, indeed, mine.
The End