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Tenure 42. Kiernan 79%
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42. Kiernan

42

Kiernan

My ass feels so full! Everything is flexing and clenching, a hundred times stronger than when it was just a finger, his tongue lapping at my thighs.

“I’m gonna come,” I moan.

He grips my wrist and yanks my hand out of my pussy.

SMACK!

He slaps my ass again as he quickly stands up, pulling my pants back up, gripping my fingers and licking them clean.

“No, you’re not,” he says.

Then he backs away, smirking, and gestures for me to have a seat.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I hiss at him, just as someone opens the door.

“I brought you a coffee, Professor,” the girl who asked if I was his niece says, handing him a Tim’s.

“Thank you, Shannon,” he says without looking at her. He’s looking at me.

My nostrils flare as I walk over to my seat— fuck this is too much— and gingerly take a seat, his eyes flaring wide with lust.

I glare at him. Look away you fucking idiot, you’re giving us away!

But he doesn’t, Shannon’s brows drawing down as she glances back and forth between the two of us. She opens her mouth to speak just as the rest of the class starts making their way back in, and I shift uncomfortably, torn between anger, fear, and desperately needing to come.

As the class settles, he stares at me over the rim of his coffee, taking a sip. I frown at him, something unpleasant uncurling in my gut— shit. I’m fucking jealous. I don’t like that Shannon brought him a coffee. And I don’t like that he accepted it.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He starts to talk, and I struggle to concentrate. I’m bitter that he didn’t let me come, annoyed that he’s clearly got a vast multitude of student admirers who aren’t afraid of him, but more than anything else really wishing that the pleasure I’m experiencing from my pussy madly clenching at nothing while my ass frantically clenches around this plug was happening in private where I wasn’t at risk of moaning in front of twenty people.

I start to sweat a little, trying not to fidget as every movement presses the plug farther into me causing a fresh flood of warmth between my thighs.

Concentrate, Kiernan! Concentrate!

Some of this is unfamiliar, but I’ve been picking up enough as the morning wore on that I started scratching out a few of the problems and was pleased to discover I was getting the right answers.

I rock back and forth subtly in my seat, gently fucking my own ass and trying to get friction on the seam of my sweatpants, trying to keep my mouth from falling open or my chest from noticeably rising.

My fingers clutch at my thighs, nails digging in, and I close my eyes for a moment.

“Kiernan!” he barks, and I jump. I almost moan, the feeling of rising up off my seat and back down on the plug too fucking good. Sweat blooms across my lower back.

“Mhmm?” I force myself to open my eyes and look at him. His face is neutral, relaxed, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s wound just as tight as I am, hanging on by a thread.

Aren’t we a pair.

“Am I boring you?” he asks. I can hear it, the challenge in his voice. He knows I wasn’t listening, knows I’m distracted.

“No, sir, ” I say. His eyes glint dangerously.

“Valuations on polytopes,” he snaps. “If X is the convex body in euclidean space Rn.”

“Is map Z a subset of X?” I ask. My voice wobbles a little, and I clear my throat.

His eyes glow with pride. “An abelian subgroup. Xn. What is the contravariant?”

I slide around in my seat at the look on his face, aware that the class is watching us with interest but not entirely able to care.

“Um . . .”— fuck fuck fuck— “real value or vector value?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Both.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I pick up my pencil but he shakes his head. “Out loud.”

“Um . . .” stop staring at me, stop staring at me! “If V0(P)=1, P isn’t an empty set. The euler characteristic would put it at -1 . . .”

He leans back on his desk, sipping that fucking coffee and staring me down. “Go on.”

I swallow, trying to think, my thighs slick with arousal and my body teeming with strain. “The corollary rule would mean X is . . .” I can hear myself talking but have no idea what I’m saying, words and numbers tumbling out of my mouth as my brain is filled with static, my body frantically pushing against the plug and my pussy so wet I’ve soaked right through my sweats and am sure I’m puddling through on the seat.

“ Kiernan!” he snaps, like he knows I’m not focused.

“Uh . . . I’m sorry, I don’t . . . know the rest of this one . . .”

“Yes. You do.”

I’m panting, but so is he.

“I don’t know,” I whimper.

“ Figure it out.”

I close my eyes, hovering on the edge of an orgasm, my whole body spasming. Oh fuck, oh my God, keep it together. I will not come in front of all these people, I will NOT come in front of all these people . . .

“The contravariant is . . . It’s . . .”

“THINK. You can do this,” he says, his voice sharp.

I can almost hear it, the you WILL come in front of all these people.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

“NOW, Kiernan.”

I open my eyes and look up at him.

“On the function map . . . the answers are SL(n) and C(R)n, respectively, with a positive or negative coefficient of one.”

He stares right back at me, face bursting with pride.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

And I fucking explode.

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