0 comments/ 14283 views/ 3 favorites The Seduction of Professor Joe Smith By: dkalish My name is Deborah, Debbie for short. I am 23 years old, and a recent graduate of a large state university in Southern California. Yes, I am the perfect image of the California beach bunny, though I don't much care for lounging about in the sun or frolicking in the sand. I'm a pretty intense and serious person, somewhat shy and reserved too, or at least I used to be. But I do look good in a bikini. I developed young. By eighth grade, I had a set of breasts most women would die for and by the time I lost my "baby fat" in high school I was, I must admit, a knock-out. I'm five feet, three inches, 110 pounds, 36D-24-30—a little top-heavy, I'm afraid, but "stacked" as the boys say. I have always been popular with members of the opposite sex, largely because of my body. I've never had trouble getting dates and have looked forward to each new relationship with anticipation. None have worked out particularly well. I have an open attitude toward sex, cultivated by parents who never hid their joy in making love. Unlike most kids who can't image their parents ever having intercourse, I know my parents have an active sex life. They never flaunted it when I was young, or made love in front of us kids or anything, but I certainly knew what was going on behind closed doors. Nonetheless, I had not found, until recently, the act of sex itself to be that enjoyable. The boys I dated in high school and college were always interested in fondling my breasts and eagerly wanted to fuck me—perhaps too eagerly, and that may have been the problem. I wanted to be loved, not just desired. To inspire passion, not just hormone-induced ejaculations. I slept with half a dozen of my more serious boyfriends. I loved feeling their bodies against mine, their hard pricks inside me, their bodies tense and then release. I enjoyed having them kiss and suck my breasts, finger and play with my vagina and clit, and—in a few cases—lick me with their tongues. But not one of them brought forth the screams of passion that I heard emanate from my parents bedroom when I was little and couldn't sleep or on Sunday afternoons when they went off to take a "nap." Sex was nice, but not what I hoped for. Until about two years that is, when a new fire was awakened within me. It all started in the fall of my senior year. I had heard good things from my friends about Professor Smith, but had never taken any of his classes. Looking about for a political science course to fulfill my distribution requirements, I decided to enroll in his American foreign policy class. From the first day, I found the material exciting. Things that I occasionally read about in the newspaper now made sense. He was a great lecturer, insightful teacher, and great motivator. I wanted to understand the material. Initially reluctant because I just didn't care much about international affairs, I soon found myself deeply interested in world events. I also found myself deeply interested in the instructor. He is not what I would describe as an especially handsome man—early 40s, I guessed, thin, balding, sort of pale, about six feet tall—but certainly not unattractive either. He was in total command of his classroom. With absolute mastery of the material, he dominated the room and captivated the attention of most of the students—certainly me. I was drawn to him for reasons I never understood, still don't. I am not normally attracted to older men, but Professor Smith was different. I started off sitting in the back of the classroom—after all, this was merely to fulfill some stupid distribution requirement. By the third week I was sitting in the front row listening intently to his lectures—and daydreaming about him at the same time. Yes, my mind would wander. I imagined myself chatting with him over dinner, holding his attention like he held mine; kissing softly, passionately and feeling his cock swell against my body; taking him to bed and making love for hours, experiencing orgasms like I had never experienced before. I often left class exhausted, not only from concentrating on what he was saying but from the great—if entirely imaginary—sex we enjoyed together. I guess many students get crushes on their professors. This one was big time. The first real love of my life, even though it was not reciprocated, as far as I knew. The Plan I wanted him, but just didn't know how to get him. I gathered he was married; he occasionally illustrated complex points with examples from everyday life, including his family. I knew he had kids. Large roadblock. Nonetheless, I set out to get his attention. I wanted to excel in his class: it was a large lecture, and it would be hard to stand out; doing well on my tests would certainly help and I studied like mad. I never thought passion could enhance learning, but it did. I also started to dress for class. I was never a sexy dresser. My tits and shapely ass got enough attention all on their own. I had never worked to enhance them, and in fact often tried to wear looser fitting clothes to hide them. Not anymore. I pulled out my tight sweaters and tee shirts and bought more. I sat erect in the front row, literally pushing my breasts into his face, or so it felt. I got more eye contact from him. I bought my first push-up bra, an entirely unnecessary contraption before, and wore it with a deep V-cut blouse. It seemed to have the desired effect, as I got even more eye contact. I started visiting his office regularly, sitting across his desk, leaning in and making sure he could catch an eye-full of my ample breasts. He started squirming in his chair. It was working, for both of us. After almost every class and certainly every office visit, I would rush home, lock myself in my room, and shed my clothes—pretending it was he who was unbuttoning my blouse, unbuckling my belt, unzipping my skirt, undoing my bra, holding my tits and pinching my nipples. I imagined it was he who slid off my now soaked panties, laid my body out on my bed, and started to play with my pussy. He who inserted first one, then two, sometimes three fingers into my cunt. He who gently rubbed my clit, he who brought forth the orgasms I enjoyed over and over again. My roommates began to comment on my closed door and moans and groans. I didn't care. Between studying and fingering myself, I didn't have the time nor will to think about anything else. My visits to his office became more frequent. I stopped by almost daily with some question, request, or if his door was open just to say "hi." He didn't seem to mind my interruptions. Our conversations eventually turned from the purely professional to the personal. We talked about what I might do after graduation later that year. We talked about my new interest in international affairs—and I mentioned that he had a lot to do with it, a comment that drew an embarrassed response as well as a smile. One day, I came around the desk to show him some table in some book that I pretended not to understand. I leaned over to point a column of numbers, intentionally nestling my breast up against his arm. He pulled back, at first, but as I held steady he relaxed and accepted the closeness. Over the next few weeks, I found many other reasons to cross the desk. He no longer tensed when I touched him. Near the end of the term, I manufactured a complete scene intended to draw him out, to break down the remaining barriers between student and teacher. I walked into his office all disheveled, teary-eyed, and as upset as I could make myself appear. He immediately expressed concern, and this time closed the door for privacy—a minor victory, because it had always stayed open before—and came around to my side of the desk to sit in the chair next to me. I poured out a story about my boyfriend leaving me (a complete lie, since I hadn't even thought about another man since the beginning of the semester), and forced myself to cry even harder. I'm not a very good actress, but somehow I managed to pull this charade off. He put his arm around me, and my insides leapt for joy. I leaned into his chest, pretending to give into my unhappiness completely, relaxing against his strength, working hard to maintain the fiction of why I was throwing myself into his arms. My tits pressed firmly into his chest, his arms around my shoulders, my face against his shoulder, I was in heaven—I could literally feel my cunt growing moist. I finally pulled myself together, so to speak, and thanked him for his understanding. I stood up, said I felt much better due to his kindness, and reached up to give him a quick kiss—which could have been interpreted as gratitude, but was actually intended to communicate much more. His mouth responded to mine, we lingered longer than was appropriate for only a sign of appreciation. I had won. The semester was soon over. I had no reason to see him anymore and my spirits began to sink. I decided to remain in town for a few days longer and to build on my recent victory. After the grades were turned in, I stopped by his office and invited him over for lunch. Telling him I was a great cook who couldn't afford to take him out to eat, I explained that I wanted to thank him for his personal attention. He accepted, and I told him to come by next Monday. I knew my roommates would have already left town for the holidays. I spent the next days preparing. I cleaned the apartment—no easy task when living with three other girls, but I didn't want him to think I was a total pig. I planned the menu and prepared the food: good, satisfying, but light—no reason to fell sluggish and sleepy when I had other things in mind. Most important, I picked out an outfit sure to get my intentions across. Since we would not be in public, I figured there were no restraints, but I still did not want to be so brash as to meet him at the door naked or anything. I still wanted to be with him—even if only professionally if that was all that was possible—and I wanted him to be able to back out of anything sexual if he wanted. I got a new push-up bra with low-cut cups, platforms really, that showed my breasts off to their best advantage but left the nipples showing. I wore a tight tee-shirt that revealed everything, especially when I got excited, but still left a little something to the imagination. I picked out a short, skin-tight skirt. I looked hot, even if I do say so myself. I had never felt so sexy, so desirable, so aggressive. I was turning a new corner. The Lunch He arrived at noon, flowers in hand. What a gentleman! My young dates would often just pull up in their cars outside and honk their horns. I invited him in and showed him how students lived (well, at least the sanitized version). We ate lunch. The food was great—spinach salad, shrimp and crab-stuffed avocados, crème brulee, my mom would have been proud. It was eaten with gusto. We talked about many things, but the sexual tension was so thick I felt I could cut it with a knife. There were many awkward pauses, too many topics to avoid—like his wife and kids, people who seemed to have mysteriously disappeared from our conversations over the past month. Finally, I started to clear away the dishes. He helped, and as we entered the small kitchen we were forced into close confines. I took the initiative. Putting the dishes down, I turned, put both arms around his neck, and kissed him fully on the lips. He immediately responded, placing his hands on the small of my back, drawing me close, almost lifting me into him. Our tongues met, danced, and we held that kiss forever. Finally, breaking the initial lock, we kissed again, and again, his mouth wandered down my neck, kissing, caressing with his lips, sending tingles down my spine. His hands started to roam across my back, my sides, my butt, tenderly squeezing and holding me to him. We slowly moved toward the living room, still locked together. Finally, his hands wandered to my breasts, my hard nipples poking into his hands, my passion now in full bloom. Slowly, he began to raise my shirt, letting his hands crawl up my skin toward my aching tits. For the first time ever, they screamed to be touched, kissed, licked, sucked. I was trembling. After an eternity, he cupped my tits, stroked my nipples, rolled them in his fingers, and they grew larger and harder than ever before, almost painfully but joyously so. He eventually pulled my tee-shirt over my head, exposing my chest fully. He dropped to his knees and took each nipple into his mouth, sucking, tasting. Shaking, I almost came, and missed falling to the floor only with the support of his hands. Never had I been this sexually aroused. He picked me up and started toward the couch, but I told him to turn into the bedroom instead. He gently put me down on the bed. I immediately bounded up, unbuttoned his shirt, and proceeded to remove his shoes, socks, and pants. Kissing my way from his mouth down his chest, I started to pull down his shorts, freeing the most beautiful cock I'd ever seen. It wasn't huge or anything, at least not like those described in porno stories. But it was beautiful, everything I had imagined it would be. Nicely shaped, straight, with a very distinct head, and incredibly hard. I dropped to my knees, engulfed this beautiful prick, and gave it all the attention that it deserved. Taking it as deeply as I could, I sucked, then released. I moved in-and-out, tightening my lips around the base of the head, stroking his dick back-and-forth with my hand, eventually deep-throating him, a personal first and, I gathered from the look on his face, perhaps a personal best. I broke away, returned to his lips, and our passion swelled even further. He slipped off my skirt and panties and swept my dripping cunt with his finger. I melted. Catching me once again, he laid me on the bed. This time, I did not get up. He laid down on top of me. I wrapped my legs around him. We kissed and felt each other all over. He was fascinated with my breasts. He revealed that he had noticed me almost from the first day of class, had been perpetually distracted by me during lectures, and had wanted to touch, feel, and kiss my tits for months. All the feelings I had felt for him were returned. If only we had known, months of daydreaming, fantasizing, teasing, and planning could have been avoided. After kissing each other all over, he rolled on top once again. I grabbed his cock and, after a couple of final strokes, guided it into my eager pussy. I felt each inch as it pushed into me, moving my walls apart as it progressed deep inside, sending fireworks to my brain. I gripped him with my arms, my legs, my entire being, pulling him in, giving myself to him and taking him into the core of my being. Nothing had ever prepared me for this. I moaned. I groaned. Before he had fully entered me, I came. After another deep kiss, he began to move back-and-forth, in-and-out, making love to me with slow, deliberate strokes. I felt the tension inside building again. He slowed and moved a bit so as to suck on my tits. They had never been so sensitive. It seemed like my vagina and breasts were linked together. Each stroke below magnified the intense results of his sucking, each suck increased the fire burning in my cunt. My whole body was trembling, united by the passionate fucking I was enjoying. This was better than anything I had previously imagined. Amazingly, Joe kept up a steady pace, in-and-out, as my passion built. Each stroke went deep, stretching my skin taunt as he scraped the length of his erection along my clit. Then he pulled back to my opening, teasing me with the sensation that he might pull out completely. His head massaged my opening, sent sparks through my body, and then returned to the dark recesses and warmth of my steaming cunt. Sensing my second orgasm approaching, he picked up the pace, fucking me harder, deeper, more intensely. I felt his prick grow and then explode deep within me. I felt each spurt of cum against my cervix. Then I exploded again, knowing that I had pleased him and that he had pleased me more than I thought possible. As we came down from our orgasms, we kissed again, and wrapped ourselves around each other. He thanked me! Holding me tight, he buried his face in my tits. Soon, his now soft dick slipped out of my cum-soaked pussy. He apologized, saying that at his age and after such passion, he could probably not match my other young studs. I kissed him tenderly and explained that no boy, regardless of how quickly he could regain an erection, had ever made me feel the way that he did, that he was the best lover I had ever had, and that no one—even my imaginary lovers—had ever moved me the way he had. Second Courses It was now three in the afternoon. I was dying of thirst, and went to get us drinks of cold water from the kitchen. I got up, wrapping myself in the sheet from my bed. Surprisingly, I now felt somewhat embarrassed to be naked in front of him. He got up, wrapped me in his arms and removed the sheet, telling me how beautiful I was, how amazing my body is, and how he just could not get enough of it. We walked to the kitchen together, him behind me, holding my tits in his hands, me with my hands trying to grasp his butt but really only getting his sides. Refreshed, we kissed again, and again. He led me to the couch. Sitting me down, he knelt in front and starting kissing me from my lips down, stopping of course at my tits, which responded once again to his attention, and moving down to my stomach, just brushing the top of my pubic area. Then, he started at my feet and kissed his way up, opening my legs, licking my thighs, kissing around my pussy, and setting off new waves of sensations through my body. Finally, he licked my hole, tongued my insides, and then kissed my clit, drawing it into his mouth. Lightly flicking his tongue over the tip, he drove me to the edge, and then backed off, teasing me, playing with me. With his right hand, he pulled up on my pubic area, stretching the skin, popping my clit out of its protective hood so that it stood out like an erect penis in miniature. He started to flick his tongue across it once again. At the same time, he inserted the fingers of his left hand—I couldn't tell how many—into my cunt, twisting them in-and-out, fucking me with his hand. Complex sensations ripped through my body. The feeling of his tongue on my clit and his fingers in my cunt were incredible. He quickened the pace as my orgasm rose, sucking harder and moving his fingers more purposively until I screamed out, raised myself off the couch—with his mouth and fingers still attached—and exploded in one of the most intense orgasms known to womankind. I shook, I trembled, I came from the tips of my toes and fingers. He scooped me up in his arms, held me close, kissed me with his slimy lips. I was never so happy. Realizing that I had to pee badly, I reluctantly extricated myself from his arms and staggered off to the bathroom. I cleaned up, freshened my makeup, applied some new perfume, and hoped that we could continue our lovemaking. He was wandering around the apartment when I returned, looking at books, the art prints on the walls, some of the photos of my roommates and me that dotted the bookshelves. I held his hand, and pointed out who was who, some of them people I had mentioned in our earlier conversations. Surprisingly, he remembered most of the names and how they were connected to my life. I confessed that there was no ex-boyfriend, that the whole emotional scene in his office was put on for the excuse of kissing him. He laughed, admired my creativity, and confessed that he was looking for a similar excuse but had not had the courage to carry out such a plan. I loved him most deeply at that moment. Kissing once again, I held him to me. I then led him back to the bedroom, pushed him down, and made love to his cock with my mouth. It came back to life, returning to its engorged state, standing proud like a flagpole on the fourth of July. This time, I wanted to be in control. Shifting him around, I lowered my cunt onto his prick, slowly pushing it in a millimeter at a time, then pulling all the way out, then repeating the process over again. The feelings were even more intense than before. The Seduction of Professor Joe Smith With both hands now free, he played with my tits as they dangled in their enormous glory above him. Holding them in his hands, he tweaked my nipples and they grew into hard, rubbery nubs. He kissed my breasts all over, sucking the nipples, rubbing them with his tongue. Again, I felt incredible pleasure building within me, linking my breasts to my cunt, melding my insides into one furnace. I had tried the top before with a few of my old boyfriends, but it had never been pleasurable. They wanted fast, I wanted slow, they all came too quickly, leaving me unfulfilled. With Joe it was different. He let me set the pace. He followed my moves, thrusting back when I thrusted, waiting when I waited, moving only his head in-and-out at the opening of my cunt when I wanted to play. All the while he kept sucking on my tits, telling me how beautiful I was, how great he felt to be inside me, how sexy my body looked and felt. I was a total woman now, confident, in a state of sexual frenzy, with a man I both admired and lusted after entirely under my spell. I wanted this to last forever—but the passion kept building inside me. I tried to slow down, to stretch out the pleasure, but my body kept pushing me on. Joe slipped into a trance, his eyes glued to my face and breasts and his words of lust transformed into mere guttural sounds. His cock spurred me on, rubbing against my clit, driving me faster and higher. His back started to arch, he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside me with each stroke. We both succumbed to the animal lust within us. With a long, drawn-out groan of which I was only scarcely aware, I came for the fourth time that afternoon. Joe's groans united with mine, and he exploded again, filling me with cum. A long time later, who knows how long, we returned to the land of the living. I don't know if we fell asleep, or were merely too drained to move. I was warm, exhausted, and deeply satisfied as never before. For the first time, I had experienced truly great sex. The long wait and tease were worth it, even if it might have been avoided by more forward action early on. Suddenly, snapping out of our bliss, Joe looked at the clock, let slip an expletive, and said he had to go. Hesitating, he asked if he could take a quick shower. After barely enough time to get wet, he ran into the bedroom, jumped into his clothes, kissed me, told me he loved me—words I had not expected, certainly not earlier that day—and dashed out the door. I curled up in bed, reliving the afternoon, and wondering if there would be a tomorrow. The Affair The next day I had to go home for the holidays. Joe and I hadn't had time to talk after our afternoon together. I missed him terribly and wanted to contact him, but he was never in his office when I tried to call and I couldn't try him at home for fear his wife would answer. I walked around with a huge secret that I wanted to shout from the rooftops, but couldn't, with an ache inside me that I couldn't relieve, with a hot, steaming desire that couldn't be satisfied. I returned to school the weekend before classes started, almost two weeks since Joe and I were first together. My answering machine was full of clicks and beeps, indicating numerous hangups and one last, whispered message from Joe asking me to come to his office Monday morning. I couldn't sleep Sunday night in anticipation. I wanted him, I wanted him to know that I wanted him, no, needed him. I went to campus as soon as I could, but there was already a line of students outside his office, all these poor unfortunates wanting to get into his class, needing some signature on some form, or something. I saw a friend at the head of the line and pleaded with her to cut in, telling her that I had an urgent personal problem that I needed to talk to Professor Smith about. Everyone complained, but Lindsey could see the distress in my eyes and she consented. The student already in Joe's office was taking forever, blabbing on about nothing, sucking up to the professor as students are want to do. I was dying in the hall. Finally, the talker got up to leave and I bolted into the office. Joe closed the door. We kissed passionately, intensely. Then, with him leaning against the door, I fell to my knees, unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and engulfed it. He tasted delicious. I licked and sucked—and adored his hard prick. With a few firm strokes of my hand, I was rewarded with a mouthful of cum. It splashed my tongue, my throat, filled my mouth to overflowing. I hated doing this with my old boyfriends, but it was his, he tasted great, and, well, there was no real alternative, so I swallowed the lot. I kissed him again, and told him to call me later at my apartment. I opened the door and left, leaving him to compose himself and deal with the even longer line of students now in the hall. I went home, stripped naked, and rubbed myself to orgasm in record time. Life was now very complicated. With school in session, my roommates were always around. My apartment was not the place to carry on a discrete affair with one of the best known professors on campus. When Joe called that afternoon he urged me to meet him again, soon. But where? We settled on his office on Wednesday afternoon. He was free and could manufacture some excuse why he could not be disturbed. I arrived at 1, as we had agreed. He ushered me in, all business-like as his colleagues were milling about in the hall. He locked the door and pulled me into his arms. I melted. For some reason, probably the tension of the last few weeks, of wanting him but not being able to have him, I started to cry. He held me, comforted me, tried to understand what was bothering me. Gentle soul. But I couldn't tell him, I wasn't sure I knew, and what I did know I wasn't sure I could tell him. After a few minutes I composed myself, and offered my lips up for a kiss. The tears evaporated and passion returned. I unbuttoned his shirt, caressed his chest, felt his warmth, his skin on my face. I kissed, then sucked his nipples. He rubbed my back through my shirt, held me close, and told me how much he had missed me, how great it was to hold me again—just the words that I had longed to hear. His hands eventually moved to my buttons, and slowly went to work. He slipped my blouse off and unclasped my bra, freeing my tits. I sat in his lap. He massaged my tits, licked and sucked on my nipples, buried his face in my cleavage. His hands moved to my thighs, rubbing and massaging my skin. They moved higher, and I spread my legs, inviting him to touch my pussy, play with my clit. He was surprised by the absence of panties, but I had assumed they would only get in the way and had intentionally "forgotten" them that morning. His finger was soon buried in my cunt, his thumb massaging around my clit. It felt wonderful. Out of the blue, I came, and came hard, biting down on his shoulder to stifle a scream. I pulled him up, dropped his pants and began to stroke his very hard and erect cock. As before, it was magnificent. Smooth skinned, beautifully veined, large but not too large, and with a clearly shaped head that foretold enormous pleasure. I moved backwards until I bumped into the desk. Lifting myself up, I laid back, pushing some books and papers out of the way. Although he had obviously made a great effort to clean up his normally disheveled desk, he had not quite succeeded. A pile of books made an enormous thump as they landed on the floor—we both suppressed a tremendous giggle at the noise and joked that if the poor fellow in the office below only knew. I spread my legs wide and pulled him in. He paused, and stroked my clit with the tip of his penis. The sensation was incredible, but I wanted him inside me. Sensing my desperation, he stopped and entered me in one swift motion. I wrapped my legs around his ass loosely but firmly enough to urge him on. He started rocking at his hips, moving his cock in-and-out of my flaming pussy. He pressed down on my clit, pushing it into his dick and heightening the sensations. In only a matter of minutes, I came again, this time groaning so loud that I'm sure everyone around us heard the unmistakable sound of passion. Joe seemed lost. His hands on my tits, his eyes closed, his body was on auto-pilot, pulling out until that lovely head was massaging the entrance to my cunt, and then plunging all the way in until I felt it in my cervix. Watching him, feeling him, I rose again. We fucked harder, faster, and finally Joe came. I felt the explosion, the cum moving through his cock, filling my pussy with his seed. With a few more strokes, I followed him, enjoying my third orgasm within half an hour. Suddenly, the desk was very hard. My neck ached from the lack of proper support. Joe got me a tissue, which I placed between my legs to catch the flood. We cleaned ourselves up as best we could, under the circumstances, sure that we would still smell of sex to everyone. We met again the following Monday in his office. The circumstances were clearly not optimal. I missed him terribly and wanted to be with him always, but he had work, a family, obligations. I had an apartment full of roommates, and a secret the size of Alaska. I was fucking the man of my dreams, but couldn't tell a soul. On Tuesday, Joe called and said he had a plan. He had to go to Washington for a meeting; we could steal two nights together. He asked if I could afford a ticket, he'd cover our other expenses. The shit! I thought by now he'd at least pay for my airfare. Since I was on a tight budget, I said I couldn't go. He thought for a moment and then suggested me might be able to hire me as his research assistant and then cover the airfare out of a grant. I think we both new this was skirting the law and might get us in trouble, but the desire to be together was too strong. We agreed to meet at the airport the following Monday. The week dragged by. The Trip The plane was full. We barely managed to get seats together. I know some people manage to experience sexual ecstasy with partners or strangers on planes, but I'd like to know what airline they fly. We were herded in like cattle, squished into seats that were too small, too close together. Hardly romantic. We chatted, held hands, cuddled a bit now and then. I rested my head on his shoulder, just like normal couples. It was nice, and probably more arousing than if we'd been trying to give each other hand-jobs without the fellow next to us catching on or doing it in the lavatory. We finally got to the hotel and registered as "Mr. and Mrs. Smith." Here I was, with a man old enough to be my father, registering under the most common alias. Even the desk manager got a chuckle out of it until Joe handed him is credit card with the name Joseph Smith imprinted upon it. The bellhop took us to our room. It was decent, no luxury suite, but with a big king-sized bed, the most important thing as far as I was concerned. It had a bit of a view of downtown Washington, but the mall was obscured by the other wings of the hotel and an apartment building nearby. Alone in our room, I hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. After weeks of longing, days of anticipation, hours together on the plane, I should have had a plan. But I just stood there. Joe, too, looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-rushing car. I finally went to him, put my arms around him, and kissed him, first gently, then harder. Our hesitation melted away. Soon, hands were everywhere. Clothing tumbled off. Our lips and tongues tasted everything. We fell onto the bed, flesh-to-flesh. Urgent with desire, Joe's erection was enormous. Hot. Engorged. Nearly purple from the rushing blood. Equally excited, I pulled him into me. Stretching my insides, he slipped right in. I was filled again, physically and emotionally. After weeks of longing and only quick and unsatisfactory sex, I felt once again the deep, passionate sensations that I had first experienced with Joe. He took me hot, fast, just like we both wanted it, pumping in-and-out like a rabbit, no a jack-hammer. I shifted positions, sitting up and facing him on the bed so I could see his cock pound in-and-out of my body. On the out-stroke, my pussy lips stretched and extended around him, reluctant to let him go. On the in-stroke, they were pushed in, holding onto his prick as long as possible. Despite the mesmerizing view, I shifted again. I pulled myself off Joe, rolled over, stuck my butt in the air and offered myself to him doggie-style. The tightness of my pussy in this position pushed us both to orgasm. Joe fucked me hard, slapping his thighs against my ass. Letting out a loud moan, he froze and filled me with cum. I grabbed the headboard on the bed and used both my arms and legs to move myself against Joe's erupting cock. Soon after, I followed him with a series of gut-wrenching contractions that left me gasping for air. We collapsed on the bed. Regaining our senses, we acknowledged that we were both famished from the West-to-East coast trip: you always lose a meal over the course of the day and the airline food is, well, enough said. Joe ordered room service, and I decided to take a shower and freshen up. Joe joined me in the shower—but as we didn't want to miss our food, we fooled around in the water for only a bit. I hopped out and wrapped a towel around myself. I fixed the bed, unpacked a few clothes, and slipped into my sexiest lingerie. The door rang. Panicking for a moment, the new boldness in me said "what the hell." I opened the door. As the waiter wheeled the cart into the room his eyes bulged—perhaps he was hoping that I had ordered more than just food. I decided to show off a bit, getting close to him to check the order, bending over the bed to get Joe's wallet out of his pants and letting my lacy, microscopic panties ride up into the crack of my ass. My tits jiggled in my lacy, nearly transparent camisole as I walked back to where he was standing. I handed him a few dollars, patted him on the butt, and whispered into his ear, "Not tonight, big fella. I'm about to be taken by someone else—again," and pushed him out the door just as Joe entered from the bathroom. "Dinner's here," I said, "eat me while I'm still hot!" I sat down in one of the chairs, spread my legs wide, and pulled my panties aside. Not needing a second invitation, Joe knelt down in front me and starting licking and probing my cunt with his tongue. A flood of our juices was released. I was famished. While Joe ate me, I started to satisfy my other hunger, munching on a salad, trying to think clearly enough to manage a fork even though my mind was being constantly drawn back to my snatch by Joe's skillful mouthplay. Finishing the salad, I pulled him up, kissed him, and told him to change places. I took his dick into my mouth, kissing, licking him, trying to distract him as much as he had distracted me. When he finished his salad, I got up, spread my legs across his, and impaled myself on his reborn cock, sliding him into me before he knew what to expect. We managed, somehow, to get dinner inside us as well. My breasts, resting on his chest, formed sort of a plate. Each morsel that dropped needed to get cleaned up, of course. Each time I leaned to the table for more food, I would move on Joe's dick, stimulating both of us. It was awkward, but an altogether interesting and enjoyable way to eat dinner. Finally finished with our meal, Joe picked me up, with his hard dick still inside me, and carried me to the bed. Laying us down together, he started a slow and methodical fuck. Having burnt off the sexual frenzy that had accumulated over the past days and weeks, we enjoyed each other at a more leisurely pace. With strong, confident strokes, he made beautiful love to me. Tenderly, he brought me to the edge and, sensing my orgasm approaching, stopped, only tensing his stomach muscles to twitch his cock inside me. He then started again, moving in-and-out, back-and-forth until I returned toward the crest, where he slowed down again. I was hot and wanted to cum badly, but he was in total control, a master at reading my body, testing it, forcing it higher on each wave but never letting me tip over the edge. Again and again I rose to the crest, each one higher and better than the last. Just when I thought I'd lose my mind, Joe finally picked up his pace, taking me harder and more rapidly. I knew this was the real thing and gave into the moment. I let myself be taken by this man, this wonderful lover with his brilliant cock. I gave in completely and was rewarded with an orgasm that rose from my extremities, rose like a giant tsunami, and finally crashed through my body with the intensity of a tidal wave slamming into land. I pitched, I roared, I cried out with abandon. Joe too let go, giving into the pleasure. Even as I lost myself in the wave, I felt him join me, his cock spurting and exploding, flooding me with a salty sea. Exhausted, we fell asleep. Sometime later, perhaps in the middle of the night, Joe's limp cock slipped out, releasing a blob of cum from my cunt. It dripped out and ran down my thigh. I scooped it up with two fingers and sucked the salty goo into my mouth—reminding myself that this was all very real, and went back to sleep. Sightseeing Morning dawned. Still on West coast time, we had slept late. Joe dashed out, saying he'd get breakfast on the way to his meeting. I missed him already. The sheets smelled of sex. My cunt was still soupy. I got dressed, grabbed a bite, and decided to go sightseeing. I hadn't been to Washington since I was a little girl. I walked around the mall, visiting monuments. I loved the Jefferson memorial, and the new one for FDR. The Washington monument looked phallic to me, like an enormous dick ready to fuck the world. "What were they thinking," I asked myself? The day was warm, I was getting tired and I didn't want to be wasted for the evening, so I headed back to the hotel. Slipping into a revealing bikini I had gotten for the trip, I left Joe a note in case he returned before I did and headed for the hotel pool. I stretched out on a lounge, leaving very little to the imagination. Several of the younger guys tried to hit on me. One offered to put some lotion on my back, but I pointed out to him that I was lying face up and was quite comfortable, thank you. Another offered to buy me a drink, even though I still had a half-full glass of iced tea at my side. They were quite handsome, these young men, and in other circumstances I might have been interested—but not today, not when Joe was due back soon. Around 4:30, Joe walked into the pool area, wearing some old, faded swim trunks, looking pasty with his near white skin—every bit the stereotype of the absent-minded professor who has not seen the sun in months. I smiled and stood up to greet him with a deep, passionate kiss, showing off a bit, I guess, for my previous suitors. Missing him all day, the sun had made me horny. I told him that, unless he really wanted to, I wasn't in the mood for swimming. Grabbing him by the crotch, and with a nod and a wink to my slack-jawed, lounge-chair lizards, I hurried Joe back to the room. We fell on the bed, rolling around, feeling each other. Joe's meeting was boring, he said, certainly not worth the trip. I was, however. Our bathing suits, both dry, quickly slipped off. We played roughly, grabbing each other, wrestling on the bed. We ended up in a 69, me with his stiff cock in my mouth, he with his tongue on my clit and fingers in my cunt. Somehow this seemed to end the horseplay. We both set in for the long haul. Sensing from one another that we both wanted it long and slow, we gradually took each other over with our mouths. No talking, no playing, just serious and determined pleasure. Joe's fingers worked magic—sliding in-and-out of my cunt, stretching my opening, popping my clit out of its hood. I was oozing juice by the gallon. Joe started slipping his fingers down to my anus. It felt good. I opened my legs further and tried to relax my cheek muscles as an invitation to him to play further. Soon, my invitation was accepted and a well-lubricated finger worked its way up my ass. With his other hand manipulating my cunt, his tongue flicking wildly over my clit, and new sensations opening up from my rear, my passion rose. The Seduction of Professor Joe Smith All the while, I was concentrating—or trying to—on his swollen dick. Gripping the loose skin just behind the head firmly with my hand, I kept up a steady stroke. As my hand moved down, I followed it with my mouth, swallowing him deeply into my throat. As my hand moved up, I shifted to his head, licking its sensitive underside, or kissed his balls, sometimes taking one or both into my mouth and jiggling them gently with my tongue. Figuring turn-about was fair play, I licked my fingers, covering them with saliva. I started to gently probe his anus, and inserted one, then two fingers deep into his rear. His engorged prick got even larger. From his moans, I knew my efforts would soon bring forth my reward. Losing all sense of time and place, our passion built like a thunderstorm in the distance, a low rumbling that increased in intensity as the lightening drew near. I felt it first. Slowing my movements, I paused to absorb the storm as it roared through my body, shaking me, tearing into me as both my rectum and cunt clamped down on Joe's fingers and electricity surged from my brain to my openings and back. After climaxing, I rolled onto my back and pulled Joe around to face me. We kissed, our tongues mingling, my taste buds reacting to my own fluids. I moved Joe so that he sat astride my chest. Wrapping my tits around his cock, I fucked him with the magnificent breasts he appeared to love so well. Sliding lower, I took him back into my mouth and proceeded to devote my full energies to him. Hand and tongue, stroke and suck. He blasted into the back of my throat. I released him from my mouth and with my hand continued to milk his cum from his body, forcing his ejaculation out, letting it flow and splash all over my face, feeling it land and then slowly drip from my forehead, my eyelids, my nose and cheeks. I licked what I could reach with my tongue and simply enjoyed the warm slipperiness of the rest as it oozed down my face. I felt like such a whore. It felt so good. New Sights We dressed for dinner. Joe had made reservations at a fancy restaurant in Georgetown. We had to hurry. I took a quick shower, washed my hair, and put on my fanciest, sexiest outfit. I had bought this dress over vacation in the hope that I might one day wear it for my lover. It was short, black, skin tight, and very low cut. I filled it out perfectly, if Joe's reaction was any guide. I decided to go braless. Through the clingy fabric you could see the outline of my areolas, and when Joe kissed me, my nipples could be seen from 15 feet away. I slipped on a pair of extra-long, thigh high stockings. Its not that I'm that tall, only 5'3" (remember!), but the dress was too short for normal thigh highs. Even so, the hem of the dress barely covered the elastics at the top. No practical pantyhose tonight. I wanted to be open, free, exposed. No panties either for that matter. Joe looked especially handsome. As we walked through the hotel lobby, I turned quite a few heads from the businessmen crowding the bar area. Joe got quite a few envious glances. Here was a middle-aged man like themselves with, if I can be immodest, a beautiful, sexy, young woman holding on to him as if her life depended upon it. The restaurant was charming. The food delicious. No room service, no urgency tonight. We savored the food, drank some wine, and talked about life, politics, our childhoods. Being nearly 20 years apart, we saw the world quite differently, but we connected nonetheless, we bonded. We flirted over dinner as well. Seated in a dark booth in the corner—how did they know?—we kissed frequently. Joe put his arm around me, drawing me near, and slid his hand inside my dress, tickling my nipple. The waiter and probably nearly everyone else in the restaurant missed the action but no doubt noticed the result. I played with his cock, even unzipping his pants and reaching inside for some serious skin contact at one point. As I played with the head of his now erect penis, Joe did all he could to retain his composure. Best of all, whenever his hand was free, Joe stroked my thigh, slipping his hand up between my legs and fingering my snatch. Those thigh highs were an inspired idea. Joe knew my body well, playing with me just enough to keep me in a state of moderate-to-high arousal, but not so much as to send me over the brink. It was late after dinner. We walked back to the hotel along the canal and, then, along M street, listening to the street musicians, hugging and kissing every few feet just like other couples in love. I felt marvelous. I was enjoying life, and especially sex, more than I ever had. I was with a man who wanted me, knew what I wanted, and who wanted to please me. Someone who respected me, but also encouraged my sexual side, encouraged me to experiment and enjoy my body, and who took pleasure in my getting pleasure. Once back in our room, I slipped my dress off, revealing my complete nakedness except for my stockings and heels. I turned on all the lights I could find, walked over to the window, and threw back the curtains. Joe looked confused. After being so secretive for so long, I explained, I wanted to show the world my love. But with the way the hotel was constructed, he stammered, other people could easily look in! Good, I said, let them look. Indeed, even in my brief moment at the window I had already attracted some attention. I turned to Joe, kissed him, and stripped him naked. Despite his protests, he was obviously excited. I pulled him to the window and, bending over, slowly slid his erection into my waiting mouth. I glanced at our neighbors. Three or four windows already had viewers, obviously lonely travelers who had been attracted to my little show like flies to honey. How could they know to look just then? In the apartment building across the way, I saw a man walk into his living room with binoculars, turn off the lights, and sit in an easy chair facing our window. As a permanent resident, he was prepared. Joe was still a bit bashful, but I was emboldened. Not only did I want to make love with Joe, I wanted the world to watch. I released him from my mouth, turned fully toward the window, placing my hands on the sill. Standing there with my breasts exposed, I bent over and urged Joe to enter me from behind. Parting my legs, I felt the head of his prick searching for my hole, spreading my lips, and entering slowly, pushing me apart, making room for his member. Joe started to get into it. With slow, firm strokes from behind, he reached around and massaged my tits, squeezing my nipples, cupping my breasts in his hands. He reached lower, finding my clit with his fingers and rubbing. I moved back-and-forth, meeting his thrusts, spurring him on. Our pace gradually quickened. I forgot about the viewers and concentrated instead on the sensations swelling up from within. Joe obviously forgot about them as well, his attention focused on his cock sliding in-and-out of my hot pussy, holding and clenching him tighter in this position. We moved faster-and-faster, reaching higher-and-higher, until finally we came together, me screaming out my climax, Joe erupting in a distant roar. With his dick still inside me, I collapsed against the window, pressing my breasts into the glass, resting my face on the cool surface. I pulled back and looked out the window. There were at least a half dozen men glued to their windows, perhaps more sitting in the dark so as to improve the view. Several of them had their cocks in their hands, masturbating. I turned around, Joe slipped out of my cunt. I cleaned him off with my mouth, savoring our combined juices congealing on his cock. I then gave him a long, passionate kiss and pulled him to the bed. New Places We cuddled for awhile, just lying there, thinking. I was still horny. I had been on a sexual high for over a day now, a living, breathing, fucking machine. Rather than putting out the fire within me, each orgasm seemed to make the flames burn brighter and hotter. It had been a great day, an even better evening. I wanted to please Joe while at the same time testing my own limits. I slowly kissed my way down Joe's body, ending up, once again, at his now soft penis. Such a wonderful organ, I decided, with a personality and moods all its own. Joe was clearly tired and wanted to rest. Mr. Dick and I made other plans. I kissed him from the base up, small nibbles, little licks. Playing. Joe looked at me with a "not again" look, but I ignored him. Taking him completely into my mouth, I tickled and sucked, licked and blew him back to another standing ovation. As his prick returned to life, so did Joe, beginning to rub my back as I played with him, reaching between my legs and rubbing my clit. We were on again. Once Joe was completely hard, I told him I had a special request. He looked puzzled. I reached into the nightstand draw where I had stashed it earlier, and withdrew a tube of KY jelly. He immediately understood. I laid on my back, spread my legs wide, and invited him into my virgin ass. Joe leaned over and started licking my snatch while spreading the jelly on his fingers. With his tongue dancing on my clit, his fingers worked their way into my ass, first one, then two, stretching the muscles, opening the way. After a few minutes, Joe paused, spread some of the jelly on his cock and placed his head at my rear opening. I tried to relax, to let my body accept his. He pushed gently, then more firmly, until he popped past the guardian muscles. He then slowly entered me until his cock was buried deep in my ass. The sensation was indescribable. It was not painful, as I had feared. It was not tremendously pleasurable either. Frankly, it felt a bit odd at first. Joe started to move in-and-out, gently. His strokes started to awaken better, more sensual feelings. Each downstroke would pull my entire crotch taunt, stimulating my clit even from a distance. I began to enjoy this new path and to feel a rising heat. I inserted a finger into my vagina and brought out a blob of cum from earlier. I started to rub my clit. Joe's fingers soon joined me. I frigged myself with a special urgency. The tightness of my ass was driving Joe to an early orgasm. Even though he was drained from our earlier bouts, he was clearly moving toward climax. I wanted to cum first, and then experience his orgasm as well. I rubbed harder, and inserted my own fingers into my pussy, probing the sensitive spots, stretching and playing with that opening as well. My entire body was now consumed in flames, from the fire in my ass, to my cunt and clit, to Joe's occasional massaging of my tits and sucking of my nipples. Too many sensations, too much everything. I peaked. It was like jumping off a cliff, free-falling. As my orgasm rose, I felt like I had lost touch with the physical world around me. I was floating in air, falling, falling, until I finally slammed into the ground, crashing, flinging myself into the air again, crashing, not painfully, but with an overload of the senses that shook me, consumed me, and left me dazed. All the while, Joe continued to fuck my ass. Moving relentlessly, his urgency soon brought me back to reality. I began to thrust back, to meet him halfway, to pick up the pace. My muscles were gripping him tightly, holding him, squeezing him. His thrusts came hard and fast. He grunted and slammed, his body smacking against my cheeks. Finally, he paused mid-stroke. He, too, was hanging in mid-air. I felt his cum move through his engorged penis and spray into my body. The stroke completed, he pulled back, more easily now, and slammed into me again as more semen spurted into my ass. I felt it all—and decided it was not half bad. As he came, Joe blurted out that this was his first time. I was surprised, and quickly surmised that his wife had never let him fuck her in the ass. I was disappointed to realize that he must have thought of her while taking me in the rear, but I was even more happy that I had given him something that she never had. We staggered to the bathroom to clean up. On the way back to bed I closed the drapes, not looking, not caring who or how many had seen our last episode. I cuddled in his arms and feel fast asleep. The Return I woke up in a funk. I was angry about going home. I wanted more. More time. More love. More everything. I banged things around the room as we packed. Joe was silent, sensing my mood. I tried to pick a couple of fights over meaningless things, perhaps unconsciously wanting to put some distance between us before heading back. Joe refused to fight, which seemed to piss me off even more. How could he be so understanding of my pathetic attempts at a tantrum? Joe hinted at "one more, for the road," but I was grumpy and, frankly, a little sore. I declined the offer. Seeing a sad look cross his face, I warmed and finally gave him a long passionate kiss. "That will have to hold you," I said. The airplane ride home was just as bad as the trip there. Crowded, lousy food. The jerk in front of me insisted on reclining his seat back as far as it could go. Damn thing was practically crushing my chest. I slept on Joe's shoulder much of the way. We didn't talk much. Thoughts of home intruded—for both of us, I'm afraid. Things would have to return to the way they were, furtive phone calls, quick, desperate office sex. Not a happy prospect. After only a couple of days as a couple, I could not bear to go backwards. The flight finally landed. Joe led us off the plane. As we exited the gangway into the terminal, he was about 10 feet in front of me. I looked up and saw him being greeted by a woman—his wife I guessed, although I had never seen her picture—and two excited kids. No wonder Joe had walked so quickly. He gave her a hug and kiss. He picked up his kids and swung them around, nearly knocking down an old lady in his excitement. They walked away together, with not even a glance backwards in my direction. "Shit! Stupid prick!" I repeated over and over in my mind. What a fool I had been. I took the shuttle home to my apartment. I went straight to my room, closed the door, and fell into a sobbing heap on the floor. I cried for hours. I woke up the next day with a new determination. I had learned that forwardness worked. I had decided what I wanted and pursued it. Yes, I had used my feminine wiles to get Joe, but it was my strength and determination that prevailed. I had also turned a corner sexually. Over the past months, I had become confident in my body. I no longer hid it in baggy clothes. I discovered great sex, and I had pushed my personal envelope. Before Joe, if anyone had suggested I would ever get fucked before an audience or enjoy anal sex, I would have thought they were crazy. A new boldness and sense of adventure had awakened inside me. There were a few pathetic phone calls from Joe in the days following our return, asking to get together, suggesting that I come by the next afternoon when he'd be "free." He finally caught me on the phone, and suggested that maybe we could find another opportunity to slip away for a few days. "I have one simple question for you," I responded. "Are you ready to leave your wife?" He sounded shaken. This was obviously not what he had expected. "My terms, or no terms," I said. Reluctantly, we said goodbye.