Tenure

29. James

29

James

The “sir” is so unexpected that I come in surprise, my head hitting the back of the chair, cum spurting out all over my shirt, balls spasming in my boxers.

“Put your other hand in your pussy!” I groan. “I need to watch you come right now! ”

She does it, greedily fucking her other hand as she slowly and tentatively moves the finger in and out of her ass a little. I watch her legs shake, her back muscles clenched with tension, her ass puckering and sucking her finger in even harder, and my cock continues to leak at the sight of it, keeps spilling out all over my fucking clothes.

“Come, baby,” I say. “Come right fucking now.”

She lets out a harsh groan, almost a grunt, and her whole body locks up—head tipped to the ceiling—mouth slack as she shakes like crazy. She pulls her finger out of her ass and uses that hand to catch herself as she falls sideways, body giving out, a panting, sweaty, hot fucking mess.

I give her a minute to catch her breath, watching her beautiful body slowly uncoil from the tension, running my hand up and down the length of my shaft a few more times, cum still leaking out of me relentlessly.

She finally collects herself and turns to face me, her eyes glazed.

“You can get dressed now.”

She pulls her clothes on in a daze, using the walls as leverage while she finds her balance again.

“The next time I tell you to do something, you fucking do it,” I threaten. “I tell you to call me something, you do it. Do you understand?”

She nods dumbly.

“You’re going to go wash your face. You’re going to catch your breath. And then you’re going to go back to class. Do you understand?”

She nods again.

“Good girl,” I purr, warmth flooding my chest. “I’ll call you later.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

She remembered to say thank you . . .

I’m so fucked.