Tenure

9. James

9

James

The synapses in my brain are firing too hard, and I see stars. The heat pouring out of her pussy is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. She’s drenched her panties, fucking soaked through them so much she’d leave a puddle on one of the plastic chairs.

I’d make her lick it up.

Fuck. This is not good. Not good. But my fingers have a mind of their own as I push her underwear gently aside and slip my fingers past the soaked fabric. I pause— stop, James, stop right now— but she lets out the softest, quietest, most restrained moan I’ve ever heard, and I’m seized by the desire to hear her when she isn’t holding back.

Don’t hold back, baby.

Ignoring the alarm bells screaming in my brain, I move another inch and sink my middle finger deep inside her.

I could come from this, just from feeling how wet she is. I slide into her like it’s nothing, her tight cunt flexing frantically around my fingers as she starts to pant like a dog, chest and back heaving with her palms down on my desk.

I want her on all fours . . .

I slide another finger inside and she squeezes her eyes shut in concentration, like she’s trying to hold it together. Like she’s still keeping her lid on herself.

I spread my fingers into a V shape, stretching her wide, rotating my hand so she’s pulled open in every direction, a fresh flood of warmth drenching my fingers and dripping down onto my palm. I’m staring at her face, pink and tense, mouth hanging open, breathing ragged . . . Fuck, you’re beautiful . . .

Her pussy is flexing, tighter and faster, and I know she wants me to pump into her, but I continue to lazily pull her apart, wetness sliding down my hand and her thighs, refusing to fuck her with my fingers.

Not until you stop holding back.

Her fists clench, the desk marked with the sweat from her palms, her legs quivering and muscles twitching. She’s getting close. I can feel it. She’s almost there, almost too far to care if she screams—

“Professor?”

She jerks upright but I shove my fingers up into her to the third knuckle, my hand hidden by her skirt and my arm hidden by the stack of textbooks on my desk.

“Yeah?”

It’s Shannon, my TA.

“I just came to let you know Professor Braden’s lecture has gone long. I doubt anyone will be making it today.”

I slide a third finger into her and feel her buckle, driving her pussy harder onto my hand, and just as she catches herself, keeps herself from falling, I twist my hand and press my thumb to her clit.

“Thanks,” I say calmly as she detonates, her cunt spasming, body caving as her knees bow and hit the desk with a thud.

“You okay?” Shannon asks, a look of concern on her face as she watches Kiernan falling apart all over me.

“She’s fine,” I say. “Low blood sugar.”

Kiernan is still coming, her release drowning my hand, sucking my fingers farther into her, deep inside where I lazily swirl them around.

“Ah, my mom’s diabetic,” Shannon says. “You need anything?”

“I’ll take care of her,” I say. “But thanks.”

Shannon hovers awkwardly until I raise an eyebrow at her, and she finally leaves. Kiernan collapses sideways as I pull my fingers out of her and shove them in her mouth.

“For your blood sugar,” I murmur.

And finally— finally— she moans, loudly, unrestrained, her tits heaving as her cum slides down her thighs.

“Good girl,” I whisper.

Her eyes fly open, and she wrenches her head away from my hand, angrily picking up her bag and her phone, storming towards the door leaving her notebook behind.

“Kiernan?”

She glares at me, her legs still shaking. She looks like a baby deer.

“Say thank you.”

Her eyes narrow, pretty pink lips curled up in a snarl.

“Fuck you, James,” she says. And walks out.

I collapse back into my seat, staring down at my hand, running my fingers over the wetness still pooled in my palm, and I can’t help it. All logic and reason is gone.

I pop the button of my jeans, shove my hand into my boxers, wrap my slick palm around my aching cock, and pump.

Twice is all it takes. My head snaps back in my chair as I come, my dick the hardest its ever been in my entire life, my body whacking out as my brain and muscles go haywire.

When I finally finish, I pull my hand back out of my pants and look at it. I’m fucking covered in both of us, a wet, drippy mess.

Not good, I think, but I can’t help but wonder what we’re like, mixed up together like this. Just a taste . . . My tongue darts out, mouth flooding with the taste of both of us, my cock already hardening again.

So. Fucking. Good.