XO Erotica

You arrive in my office to show me your video project, a project you insist on watching with me. As the ROP coordinator for your Junior College, I’m used to the presence of young women, though I do find you to be a bit unsettling. Attractive in that bookish-till-she-takes-off-her-glasses-then-her-clothes way. Not that I expect such behaviour. Oh, I’ve thought about it all right. But now I find myself stuck at the office, it’s 8 PM, the building is dark and here is this young thing forcing me to watch her video. Some pretentious and probably tedious art film awaits me.

My flatscreen is balanced on a set of shelves across from the desk. You hand me the disc and then sit down primly. You’re wearing a black shell top and knee-length Levi’s skirt. Underneath the shell top I can glimpse a black camisole. I’ve noticed you in class, of course. The dark page-boy cut hair. Tight body. Nice breasts. Even if I’m not supposed to notice, I’ve noticed. I sit behind my desk and you sit in front; you turn your chair so you can view the movie with me.

-Anything I need to know about this film?

-Video; it’s shot with a Sony PDP-50.

-Sure, video. Anything I need to know?

-Did it for you, this class. You mumble, looking down.

-Okeydoke. I press play.

Black. Title: Press Play. Ah, very clever. I lean forward onto the desk, looking over your shoulder. You lean back, smooth down your skirt. The title fades to a hand-held jiggly cam shot. Dark corridor, doors. Familiar looking … because it is the corridor that leads to my office. It comes to the door of my office, lingers on the nameplate. FRED RISEBROUGH.

OK, very funny, I think. Then watch as your hand enters the frame, holding a credit card. You slide the card between the door and jamb, and in short order the door swings open. I sit up, tensing. This is more than daring.

You enter my empty office and survey the territory. The desk, the books on the wall, then move behind the desk, so you can see the dark flatscreen, then move over to place the camera on the shelf that hold the flatscreen. Looking at the empty desk. You linger on the wall above the desk, with a movie poster for THEY LIVE. A joke table tennis paddle made of smooth blonde wood that says on it THE BOTTOM LINE. You walk across the frame, a blur, then pull the chair that sits in front of the desk around so it is facing the camera and the flatscreen. You sit in the chair.

As you are now.

Wearing what you are wearing now.

Interesting. Self-referential. On screen, we’re seeing pretty much what I’d be seeing now if I was standing in front of the flatscreen looking at you. You lean back in the chair, sigh. Cross your arms under your breasts, lifting them. My eyes dart to you, here, now and I see your arms are crossed as they are on the screen.

Performance art.

OK.

Nothing much is happening on screen, you’re sitting there but .. Wait. Your right hand is not still. You are fondling your breast, squeezing it gently and moving your thumb down to brush the nipple through the fabric. This is totally inappropriate, but I feel my cock start to stiffen. On screen your eyes are closed. I cannot tell if your eyes are closed now, I can only see the back of your head. Hear your soft breathing. Watch as you tease the nipple until it is hard and erect, poking through the camisole and shell top. I have to shift because now I’m fully erect. On screen, you slide both hands down your stomach and unbutton your skirt in the front, revealing a white set of panties; not the white cotton kind but a stretchy white thong, a triangle that barely covers your crotch. My mouth is dry, my cock is aching. I shift to move it within my pants and it feels good. This should not be happening.

You moan softly. On screen or in the chair in front of me? I can’t tell. I see you slip one hand beneath the panty line, see the fingers outlined in the fabric and watch as you tent your own panties as you arch your hand within. I hear you shift and know I’m hearing the you here, now, shift in the chair and know that if I were to lean forward — or be sitting where the flatscreen is — I’d see what’s on the screen now. You cupping a breast through the fabric, your denim skirt spread open, your hand beneath the stretch as you work yourself slowly. I grab my cock through my pants, squeeze my hard on through the pants and move it to an angle where it is comfortable. Watch.

-Hmmm. I hear you in out-of-synch stereo moan and can see on screen by the shadows of your fingers under the thong that you’ve slipped a finger into yourself. The triangle arches further and I see you on screen and from behind as you slip an arm out With your tit out you start at work on the nipple and I see the fingers working harder beneath the stretch, your hips rotating, moving back and forth, up and down. I can hear you move the chair as you pleasure yourself on screen and here-and-how.

-Hah

Your movements become more intense. I see the cotton triangle distorted as you press a second finger into yourself, hear the hiss of indrawn breath now as you do so here. Two fingers you must be very tight indeed, I think, pressing my hard-on beneath the desk.

-Huh –huh — huh

THe look on your face is intensely erotic, your eyes closed your lips pursed in concentration as you try to find a spot the spot your fingers on the nipple spazzing, the chair clunking on the floor as your ass swirls the

-Heh — heh — oh God.

as you snap forward and your legs press together closing as you cum now and then, my breath dry in my mouth, you curl into a ball in the chair huffing and breathing.

Your breathing slows. On screen you sit up, in here you sit up. Stretch like a cat, your breast bobbing out of the shell and camisole. On screen and here you stand, turn around face me. Place both hands on the desk, lean over very deliberately. On screen I’m seeing the white globes of your ass peeking out from beneath your skirt. In front of me you lean forward. I could lean forward myself and lick your erect nipple; and I do just that.

-Well, you say in stereo, What sort of grade does that earn me?

The screen fades to black but there is no THE END title. Good enough, because this does not end here.

-Well, young lady, you’ve taken some liberties. I stand up and you can see my cock tenting my pants. You start to stand yourself

-Hands on the desk, young lady.

I can see the question in your eyes and enjoy a bit of the fear. You gambled doing this. I could call the campus cops. Instead, I take THE BOTTOM LINE down from the wall. Stroll around the desk, almost as if i didn’t have a hard-on that is about to burst.

-I think that I’m going to have to administer an academic disciplinary action.

-Professor Risebrough, are you sure that’s appropriate? you say to me over your shoulder. A little bit scared. You should be.

I want you to be a little scared.

It will turn you on more.

-I’ll decide what’s appropriate young lady.

I pull down your skirt and see for the first time that you are wearing some pretty damn big black high heels. Stripper shoes. You step out of the skirt and in front of me is a fine, tight ass, divvied up by the white stretchy strips of fabric. I cup a cheek in with my left hand and you instinctively spread for me. I can see that you’re still working your nipple. You sigh, relaxing and

SLAP

the bottom line comes up swiftly underneath your cheek and snaps your ass and you hiss with pleasure. You place one hand on the desk, perk your ass up, slide the other hand under the panties to pleasure yourself. I slide the back of my hand down the crack of your ass, probing between with my middle finger into the moistness then pull away and

SLAP

–Hah

You slide a finger into your pussy. I scuff off my shoes, unbuckle my belt, put it on the desk, then drop and step out of my pants and boxers. My cock is pointing like an arrow at your ass and I come up behind you slide it up into the crack and press it between your ass and my crotch, lean over you and tongue the back of your neck, drawing the bottom line up the side of your right leg then

step back and

SLAP hah

SLAP HAh

SLAP hah

holding my cock in a fist stroking slowly. I can see the warm red glow on your cheek and I drop the paddle. The noisy clatter is kind of startling. I grab your hair and pull you gently off the desk, bring you to your knees in front of my cock.

-You can lick it, young lady.

You look up at me, a question in your eyes.

-Yes, you can pleasure yourself. I hold my cock up for you so you can lick starting where the shaft meets the balls, watching as your fingers go back into the stretch thong. I can hear the soft grinding as one finger then another enters your pussy and feel the heat of your tongue on the bottom of my cock, trailing up slowly. You lick the pre-cum off the tip as I place all my fingers in your scalp, enjoying the feel of your hair against my fingertips. I guide my cock slowly into your mouth and let your tongue work around it until it is wet then holding your head still draw it out, slowly and bring you to your feet. I take the hand that has been working your pussy, the two moist fingers and lick them, tasting your juices.

-Will I pass, Professor Risebrough.

-I think you’re going to need extra-credit.

I reach around behind you and lift your left leg, bringing you close so I can slide my cock slowly up into your wet pussy. I stay inside you, neither of us moving much, just enjoying the feel of your wet, tight pussy wrapped around my cock. I lean down to flick your nipple with my tongue, then bring a free hand behind your head, taking a hank of hair and pulling you close to me. I flick my tongue across your lips, then slide it inside your mouth to meet yours, slowly starting to move my hips, move my cock inside your pussy. We grind and kiss.

Grind and kiss. You wrap both legs around me and I slide my hands under your ass, pick you up and sit down in the chair in front of desk, my cock moving inside your pussy. Feeling you contract. We lean back and regard one another, almost dispassionately as we grind away.

-Play with your clit, I instruct you. I am the instructor. We look at one another and then at the intersection of our bodies as you pull back the flesh that hides your clit and begin flicking it, then rubbing around the base.

I feel you growing moister as the juices start to flow. My cock buried in a sea of heat. I lick your nipple, using the back of my tongue, where it’s roughest, catlike. Your movements become more urgent and the clenching tighter, your breath quicker and then you push down hard in my lap as you cum again, your hand crush between our bodies. You cum fast and hard and I like that because lost in the heat, I’ve not cum.

Yet.

-Passing grade professor? You huff.

-Not quite young lady. I lift you off my cock and then stand myself, kicking the chair out of the way. I bend you over the desk again and kneel behind you, spreading your cheeks. Your ass is slick with sweat and cum and loose and your asshole tight and inviting. I probe the edge of your anus with my tongue, moisten you, make sure you’re nice and wet then stand. I slide my cum-soaked cock into your asshole slowly. It’s ever tighter than your pussy but your sigh is so intense and I can feel you cum again, almost immediately with the novelty of the sensation. I slide out of your ass and then probe back into your pussy, this time reach around to control your clit myself.

Thrust, rub.

-Uh.

You pant hard,

Thrust rub.

My belt is on the desk and impulsively I grab it, loop it.

SNAP

Thrust shudder finger on your clit

SNAP

Shudder clench flow

dripping down between your legs

Bury my cock in you and bursting

Pull out and spray your ass with cum

SNAP

SNAP

You shudder and collapse on the desk, panting.

I drop the belt, exhale heavily.

-You’ve certainly earned an A young lady, I say finally as you push yourself up off the desk.

-I’d suggest some graduate courses. I believe that you have a unique talent, young lady.

You slide into the chair, recovering.

-Would you consent to be my advisor? you ask.

-Consent. Huh. I like that idea. My consent.