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I knew she was trouble from the moment I first saw her in my creative writing class. She was a college boy’s dream. Shoulder length blonde hair, perfectly beautiful young face, nicely tapered legs, tanned and healthy looking skin, a sweet little round ass. The only thing missing were a nice pair of tits. Deana, that was her name, had very small tits, but the rest of her was so perfect, it made no difference. How I knew she was trouble was her eye contact.
I had set a small in class assignment near the end of the first day so I could get a writing sample from each of the 15 students enrolled in the course, a sort of baseline. I allowed just the last 10 minutes of class for this. Every time I looked up from the lectern at the front of the room, Deana was staring directly at me, or more accurately, into me, like she knew what I was thinking.
I teach in a small liberal arts college in Florida. It’s expensive and has some prestige in the area of arts and letters. It was a struggle for me to get here. I taught for years in a community college, followed by grunt work as an adjunct at a university, where I managed to build up a substantial history of publications that helped me finally land this position. No way was I ever going to jeopardize a gig like this with any sort of dalliance with an undergrad student. Oh, some of the young women gave off signals, but I am careful never to return the slightest hint of interest. I don’t even allow my door to be closed during office hours. It’s a small college in a small town. I don’t give anybody anything to talk about.
The short assignment was for the students to write a third person biography, the sort of thing that would accompany a submission to a lit journal. I didn’t care so much about the details of the student’s lives, I just wanted to know if they could write a coherent sentence. At the end of the class I had them bring their papers up and hand them to me on their way out. I noticed that Deana made sure she was last in line.
She was dressed in tight fitting shorts that left little to the imagination and a plain white tank top. While there wasn’t much of a bust-line under that shirt, it was obvious there was no bra beneath it either. I could see a hint of pronounced nipples under the thin material, perhaps due to the air conditioning in the building.
“I’m really looking forward to this class,” Doctor Ellison. “I’ve read both of your poetry collections and your novella. I am a big fan.”
“It’s not doctor, at least not yet, and we won’t be doing any poetry in this class,” I told her. “This class will be exclusively fiction. You read the syllabus, I trust.”
“Oh, of course Sir,” Deana gave me a wry kind of smile as she turned in her paper, the sort of smile that should be reserved for someone she knows intimately. I hoped I wasn’t blushing. She held the paper close to herself in such a way that I would have to reach very close to her lithe body to take it from her. When I reached out for it, she didn’t release it right away, leaning forward, bringing herself even closer. “Let me know how you like it.”
“Deana Martins was born in Georgia and majored in communications at Coldfield College. She is working on two manuscripts, one, a book of poems, the other a novel about a young woman who falls in love with her college professor, doing anything she can to finally possess that which she cannot have. She is an avid student of literature and will pursue a writing career upon graduation, though she has already been published in several online journals.”
“I want each of you to bring in something you have been working on recently or if there is nothing suitable, I want you to write something of one or two thousand words. It doesn’t have to be a finished piece, but it should be something you want to work on throughout the semester. It can be a short story, the first chapter of a novel, anything you think you want to keep at until it is finished.”
It was the second week of class. The group of students was lively and engaging. I was looking forward having some fun with this group of seniors. They showed a lot of curiosity and motivation. Teaching this class was my reward from the English Department for teaching all of the shit freshman comp classes over the years and I wanted to make the most of it. The following week, Deana brought this:
“Dani gulped the first time she met James. She’d always had a thing about older men but had never done anything about it. She was never short of male attention, but the high school and college boys she had gone out with, and a few she had even slept with, left her with an empty feeling and she regretted every time her own physical needs had let her down. Every sexual encounter in her past was void of humanity, a deep down satisfaction that she craved. She sensed in Dr. Erickson, a need that matched her own, a longing for something better, an intensity neither of them had ever known.”
That canlı bahis was Deana’s opening paragraph. It was transparent as glass. Dani – Deana, James – Jack, Ellison – Erickson. She wasn’t even trying to disguise her intent. The writing itself lacked maturity, though at least there was competence in handling the language. The chapter, at least what I thought of as a chapter, went on to describe Dani’s history in some detail. It included some pretty steamy passages.
“Michael was intent on taking my virginity. I recognized that almost at once. He was an attractive boy and a popular athlete, but not terribly intelligent. He felt entitled, coming from a prominent family, like my body should belong to him just because of who he was. I was blinded by his popularity and by the access he gave me to the circle of popular kids in his orbit. I held out for weeks, placating Mick with hand-jobs and eventually even agreeing to suck his cock. He insisted, when I did, on cumming in my mouth. I gagged the first time, not liking it at all. After a couple of more blowjobs, I decided that if I wanted to continue seeing him, I should give in to him, let him be the first boy to fuck me. It would feel, somehow, less demeaning that swallowing his sperm. Mick was not deserving of the kind of intimacy I should feel while giving a loving blowjob. I wanted to save that for a real man, a real lover.”
“Deana, this is really not acceptable,” I told her at our first individual conference in my office (with the door open). This is little more than adolescent fantasy and you should expect more of yourself by this point, and the thinly disguised references to you and to me are something that I didn’t appreciate.”
“But it’s not about you and me. These are fictional characters, Dani and James. This is a work of fiction.”
“Come off it, Deana. You know what I’m talking about and I want no part in it. You have to choose a different semester project. It’s not negotiable.”
The girl finally agreed, though she stopped short of admitting I was right. I felt intense relief, a potential life complication resolved. Later, I would learn, it wasn’t even close to being resolved. I should have known at that moment as I watched Deana leave my office when the last thing I noticed was the seductive sway of her hips, the motion of that petite and perfect ass.
A week went by. Deana did submit a new project, as short story about an artist who was struggling with alcoholism. The story sucked, but the writing itself was pretty good. Deana had some talent, but she really didn’t have a story to tell, a problem most very young writers have.
I was about to leave the office for the weekend when I noticed plain manila envelope in my mailbox. There was no label. It felt like a dozen or so pages inside. I didn’t want to take the time to open it. I had a date that evening with a woman from the undergrad library. God I love librarians. I tucked the envelope into my briefcase and headed for home to have shower and change for my date.
The date was a bust. She turned out not to be the repressed but horny spinster of my librarian fantasies who turned into a tiger when she let down her hair and took off her glasses. To be fair, I was probably not the dashing and charming middle-aged author of her fantasies. We mutually agreed to make it an early evening. I was home by ten.
I made my self a gin and tonic and opened my briefcase, thinking I would read the latest re-writes my students had handed in. Usually all this stuff is online, but with the creative writing class, I insist on printed material. It’s so much easier to be able to write in the margins. I noticed right away the plain envelope I’d grabbed at the last minute. I opened it, curious about what it might be and why it had no label or writing on it. Inside were several pages of single spaced manuscript.
“Dr. Erickson couldn’t take his eyes off me, not that I wanted him to. I had dressed in my shortest skirt and left the three top buttons of my white blouse undone. I don’t really have much in the way of cleavage to show but a man can’t resist looking for a glimpse of even the smallest breasts. My hair was down, curled by the humidity and leaving me looking like a girl who had just gotten out of bed after amazing sex. “Dani, what are you doing here?” he asked. “Office hours are over and was just about to leave.”
“Please, Dr. E. I’m really stuck and need your help. Can’t you spare just a few minutes?”
“Come on in then. Close the door behind you.”
I did as he asked and crossed the room to perch on his desk. I handed him my story and told him I didn’t thoroughly understand the notes he had written in the margins.
“Which notes do you mean, Dani? I thought I was pretty clear.”
It was more of Deana’s story, picking up at a more contemporary time. It went on for awhile about the assignment and the professor’s notes then…
“I bahis siteleri could feel Dr. Erickson’s stare. My skirt had ridden up my legs while we talked. It was no accident and I was sure he knew that. I felt my face starting to burn. Dr. Erickson, James, was beginning to fumble as he tried to remember and explain what he was thinking when he had written his notes to me. He finally took his eyes off my exposed thighs and made eye contact with me. I gave him back my most seductive smile, at least I hoped it was seductive. I scooted closer to him on the desk, far enough that I could see over the back edge of the desk. I could tell from the way he was sitting he was trying to hide a growing erection. I relieved to know the effect I was having on him. Once I sure of it, I undid two more buttons on my blouse. I turned to the side to give the Dr. a look at the gap that showed my small tit from the side. I pulled the fabric away from my chest so his view would include the profile of the puffy nipple I could feel hardening under his gaze. How could he resist? He couldn’t. I slid closer to him pulled the papers from his hand and laid them on the desk. I slid closer still, allowing the skirt to ride up until I was sure James could see the satin g string that barely covered my mound. I looked into his intense blue eyes and took one of his hands, sliding it under my blouse and placing it squarely on my breast.
“My tits are small, James, tiny really, but the nipples are so sensitive. Can you feel how hard you’ve made them? That’s just from you looking at me. Imagine one of them between your lips. I have imagined it many times. Now it’s your turn, but not just in your imagination.” I slid my ass around the corner of the desk so I was now facing him. I undid the last two buttons of the blouse, letting it hang open. James’ face was inches from my body. I reached out and pulled his head the final distance to my breast. His mouth opened and a nipple disappeared between his lips. I felt them clamp down on me, gently sucking the nipple into his wet mouth. He was gentle, yet insistent as he alternately tongued and sucked. It felt heavenly. I could sense a man who knew what he was doing, a man as desperate to please me as I was to please him.”
I put the pages down. I felt flushed. I took a huge gulp from my gin and tonic. I didn’t want to read on. I couldn’t. I grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. I surfed a few channels, finding nothing interesting enough to distract me. I clicked it off.
I went back to my desk and rummaged through the class submissions. I started reading whatever was on top, a story with a dog as the protagonist, apparently a talking dog. By the bottom of the first page I had forgotten what I read.
“James worked my breast with patience I had never experienced before. I ran my hand though his graying hair and held him to me. He finally released my nipple but went immediately for the other, giving it the same loving treatment. I could hear my self moaning softly. I heard my self whisper, “that feels so good, James. I’ve really longed for this.” It was almost as if it was someone else talking, I was so lost in this new reality.
James let his mouth stray from the nipple and tilted his head up, moving his hand to my hair and pulling my face to his for our first long kiss. It was soft at first, with a feeling of purity, innocence. It soon turned to something different, a searching tongue that sought mine with passion and hunger. When he broke away, James pulled the blouse off my shoulders. He went to the door and flipped the lock. He returned and kissed me again urgently. As he did, I felt his hands on my knees, pushing them apart. His fingers slid up my thighs, but before they reached my satin thong they roamed back down again. He knelt in front of me, kissed my knees and began working his way up my legs with his lips, kissing and nibbling his way toward my womanhood.
“Your thighs are sweet cream,” he said. He worked his way further, taking his time. He spread my legs further and I finally felt his nose against the thong as he kissed the shiny fabric. “You’re already wet,” he cooed, as he kissed his way around the undergarment. He continued to stroke my thighs as I felt his mouth opening and closing on my pussy through the material. He brought a hand up and hooked a finger under the satin and began to pull the tiny garment down. I lifted my ass to assist his effort. He pulled it down over my knees of off my ankles. “Oh, Dani, it’s so beautiful, so pink and beautiful. Then James planted his mouth on the outer lips of my pussy and kissed me like he had kissed my mouth, gently at first, then more probingly. A shock went through me when I felt the first tentative lick of his tongue. “And it tastes so good.”
James pulled me more to the edge of the desk, placing my legs on his shoulders to gain better access to my vulva. He kissed and licked and licked and kissed until I thought I would die. I fell back on the desk, my head hanging over the bahis şirketleri edge. It felt so good. I wanted to feel my orgasm float me away to some other world but also not wanting this to end too soon. I tried to hold back but I couldn’t. I felt, more than heard myself scream as James drove his tongue into me, pressing his upper lip against my clit. I clenched his head between between my thighs and pushed myself into him, Before I knew it, it was over. James was kissing my pussy lips again and lapping at me more gently. He brought me down slowly, letting me fall in weightlessness. I wanted to cry.”
I was sweating. I became aware of that my cock was straining for freedom. I moved to the couch and laid down, pulled down my zipper to set it free. I was nearly in pain I was so hard. The papers were on the coffee table in front of me now. I picked up another page and read on.
“James stood over me and went around to the other side of the desk, the side where my head hung over the edge. He bent and kissed me. I could taste my own juices on his lips. I heard the sound of a zipper and opened my eyes to see James’ cock standing straight from his body over my face. It was big and beautiful. I reached out to touch it, feel its heat. I wrapped my hand around it and squeezed it. I heard James’s breathing quicken. I pulled him toward me and kissed the tip. I rubbed it on my face and kissed the shaft up and down the length. I never wanted a man in my mouth like I wanted this man. I opened my lips and took him in. My head dropped back, encouraging him to press forward. I took as much of him as I could, using my hand to limit his thrust into my cock hungry mouth. He began pushing in and out with a slow rhythm. I stroked and squeezed his cock and balls as James fucked my mouth. I felt so sexy giving him the gift of my lips. tongue and throat. It wasn’t long before I felt the first in a series of spurts from his cock as he emptied himself into me. I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed until he was finally dry. I sucked and probed the tip of his cock with my tongue, making sure I got every last drop.”
By the time I read to the end, I had cum as hard as I remember ever cumming. I saw and felt everything Deana had written. I could hear the sounds of my cock sliding in and out of her mouth, could see the rippling of her throat as she swallowed my cum. It was some of the best sex in recent memory – and I was alone.
I slept soundly that night. The following morning, I had my coffee and worked for awhile. About ten I was ready for a break. I thought about Deana and wondered if she could ever guess how successful her story had been. I wondered if she masturbated while she was writing it. I turned on my laptop and Googled her name. Facebook was the first thing that came up and I clicked on the link. There were several Deana Martins, of course. I had to zero in on Georgia and Florida to find the right one. I brought up her page and clicked through the photographs. She wasn’t someone who took a lot of selfies but there were a couple of nice head shots someone had taken at an outdoor event. Her blonde hair was longer when they were taken. I found a full body shot and some high school graduation pictures. I right clicked and saved several images of Deana to my hard drive, enough stalking for one day.
The next week in class, I went through my material mechanically. Deana, in the front row, distracted me and I had to avoid looking at her so the other students wouldn’t see me noticing her. When the class was over, I got a knowing look from Deana as she was leaving the room. She made to effort to stay behind to talk to me, perhaps because a couple of other students did and she wasn’t willing to wait. She also didn’t show up during my office hours, something I thought might happen.
On Friday after I returned from my final class of the week there was another plain envelope in my mailbox. I slid it into my briefcase and walked to my car, where I checked the envelope’s contents. It was, as expected, more of Deana’s story.
“James kept his cock in my mouth until it began to go soft. When he finally pulled out, he squeezed a last drop or two of his cum onto my lips and watched intently as I licked them from my lips. He lifted me by the shoulders to help me sit up. “You’re about the sexiest woman in existence,” he said. “I hope you wanted this. I just couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s why I came here today, James. I would have been so disappointed if this hadn’t happened.”
“So what now?” he asked.
“I don’t want this to be a one off.”
“I don’t think it can be.” James stood behind me, caressing my bare back and shoulders. His hand strayed over the shoulders and down my chest where he began circling my nipples with the tips of his fingers, avoiding direct contact with them, teasing me back into heat. I sighed and leaned back against him, drinking in the sensations. There was a small puddle on the desk where my juices were leaking. I tilted my head back, begging for a kiss. James obliged and, while I sucked on his tongue, his fingers finally touched my aching nipples, pinching them gently between his fingers. I moaned into his mouth.”
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