Mya's Counseling

The first time I heard my college counselor's voice, I thought from the get-go that Lucas Alexander sounded very, very sexy. It was deep, and when he spoke he took his time, as if knowing that as a first-time college student I would be apprehensive about speaking with someone regarding my academic future.

Of course, my own history of significant others and their voices is practically non-existent. I was a slightly over-weight black girl, brought up in a predominantly white, skinny-bitch neighborhood. Most of my friends were white, all of my teachers were white—excepting of course, my Spanish teacher, Senora Guerra, who was Guatemalan—and even the few guys that I'd had slight crushes on had been white.

When I finally met him on freshman orientation day, he was almost what I had imagined him to be. He was tall, standing about six-one or -two to my five-four, and he was in his early thirties, if my guesstimation skills are reliable. What I hadn't anticipated was his weathered face from his years of working aviation in the Air Force, or the distinct Scandinavian features that stared back at me, making my heart stutter a bit. What I loved most about him was his eyes: bright and blue, full of the years of knowledge that he'd built up and offered freely to the students that he counseled.

My first meeting with him was also accompanied by my mother, to my regret. It was embarrassing, as you can expect, to find that I was fantasizing about my counselor right in front of my mother. She couldn't tell, but I wondered if Mr. Alexander could, when I made sure to look him directly in the eye whenever he spoke to me, and at appropriate times of frustration, I would bite my lip and sigh, thinking of him doing the same thing.

It wasn't until the end of the first quarter that I got to see him one on one again, just him and me, in his little enclosed office. I had seen him around campus and I waved to him and smiled, letting it reach my eyes and somehow, trying to convey this attraction that I had for him. He would wave back, nod his head, say his own hellos, and go back to what he was doing. It discouraged me to no end, when I felt as if my feelings were not reciprocated. Then one day, after a small exchange of greetings, I turned back to look at him and he was still there, staring after me. I caught his eye and he gave me what I thought was a sad smile and a small shake of his head, and continued on his way.

I went to see him at the end of my regular scheduled Friday, two weeks before the quarter finished. My last class ended at four-fifty, and the office was closed at five, so I was sure that I wasn't going to be able to make it before the doors were locked for the day. To my chagrin, it was, until I realized that Mr. Alexander's office was still open, which meant that he'd stayed late. I knocked softly on the door to the waiting room, and when no one came out, figured that he'd just forgotten to finish closing. I was almost out of the building when I heard a soft click and whirled around.

"Ms. Harris?" that deep voice said slowly, and I shivered.

I looked up about a foot to meet his eyes, and I saw surprise and, to my delight, a suppressed thrill. "I meant to come earlier, but my last class didn't end until ten minutes ago."

"Of course, come in." He waved me into the outer room, and then further into the office and shut his door. "I was just updating some files before I left." He gave me a smile. "I didn't expect it to take this long."

I felt his eyes take in my figure, from the silk, emerald, pleated dress shirt that enhanced my figure to the black skinny jeans that accentuated my hips, to my hair that fell in luscious waves, with side-swept bangs framing my round face.

"Please, sit down," he told me. He had dressed his lanky frame in gray slacks and a black button-down shirt. He kept his blond hair short and conservative, the temples already frosting over with silver strands. I shivered, imagining I could run my hands through it. "Are you cold?" he asked me.

"No, thank you," I said. Even if I was, I wouldn't be in a few minutes, if my thoughts continued in the direction they were currently taking.

"So, what can I do you for?" he asked. His voice was thicker than usual, and the deep chords that it had suddenly taken on sent a throb through my body.

"I was wondering if I could switch out of Psychology, and get into Intro. to Sociology for next quarter. It doesn't clash with my schedule and it would give me more room for studying time."

"Of course, I'm glad you told me." He did some clicking on the computer and pulled up my file. "Is it a bit over-whelming, your psych class?"

"A bit," I answered, and he looked up at the tone of my voice. I met his glance and gave him a diminutive smile.

He switched the courses for me and printed out two of my new schedules. He walked to my side of the desk and bent to my level, handing me a pen.

"I need you to sign this copy," he said, pointing with one long finger. I imagined sucking on it, and shivered again. "Are you sure you're not cold?" he asked once more.

He was so close I could see the true, deep blue of his eyes and smell his light, musky scent. I leaned over right then—knowing that if I waited I'd be too chicken—and kissed him softly on the lips. His body froze tight as granite, and then, almost as if it was against his will, his lips acquiesced, folding themselves into my mouth. I could taste and feel his experience against my naïveté, and it felt so fucking good. His hand reached up to cradle the back of my head, and I moaned softly at his touch.

He stopped then and stood up, backing away from me with wary eyes. "What are you doing, Ms. Harris?" The use of such a formal title in this inappropriate setting was strange, and it was what spurred me on.

I came around the desk and he fell heavily into his chair. I didn't answer, but knelt down between his legs, looking him in the eye.

"I'll stop if you want me to," I said. I reached for his pants, unbuckled the belt and released the button. "Do you want me to stop?" I asked softly, slowly unzipping him.

I could see him swallow, and I jumped on the inside. I was successfully seducing a college counselor, right here in his office!

I reached into his boxer briefs and pulled out his cock, marveling at the length. It wasn't his thickness that impressed me, although in my near-virgin state anything was thick, but his tool matched the rest of his body, long and veined and warm.

"You can't—wait! You shouldn't—" he stammered.

I put as much of him as I could in my mouth and gave a long, wet suck.

"Shit," he gasped, and involuntarily began thrusting into my lips. His eyes were shut tight, his hands gripping the arms of his chair till his creamy skin turned milky pale. He said something too quiet for me to hear, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was a prayer.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Fuck, love, do you know what you're doing?" he asked softly, then wrapped my hair around his fingers and began to gently thrust between my lips.

He was nice enough not to fit himself all the way inside my mouth, and that kept me from gagging, since it was my first suck-job and my experience was limited. The skin of his cock was so pliable, and my tongue could feel every vein, could feel his flaccidness disappear as his member engorged with a frightening speed. My mouth was sensitive, and I realized that if I gave an extra suck every time he twitched, it drew a gasp of pleasure from him.

My favorite thing, though, about sucking him down was his facial expressions. Sometimes his eyes would be closed as if he was too ashamed to watch me savor the taste of his dick, not able to keep the grimace of pleasure from showing on his face. Other times, he would look me in the eye and caress my temple with the hand that wasn't grasping my hair.

I reached up and grabbed his balls and squeezed, and he jerked in my mouth. "Again," he groaned, thrusting a little faster.

I obliged, alternating the squeezing with the extra sucks, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

"Stop!" he hissed, and I froze, heart beating wildly, thinking that he had heard someone. "I want to make you come first," he told me softly, pulling me up. He pushed me on the desk, at the same time claiming my lips with his, his hands gripping my round breasts. I arched my back, thrusting my chest out to give him easier access.

"I don't want undress you," he said, but the emotion in his voice said he did. "We have to do this fast."

I nodded, and he tugged my jeans off my hips, my dark green sandals clattering to the floor along with the denim. He spread my legs and slid between them, his hands skipping along my outer thighs. I felt him pull away the front of my black panties to reveal a mess of well-manicured curls, and the treasure that it hid.

"Oh, sweet mother..." he groaned. "You're soaked." His mouth was close to me, and the warmth from his breath made my throat catch. He rubbed my slit with a single finger, spreading my juices, and I closed my eyes, reveling in his touch. Then, slowly, he pressed a long, slender finger inside me and my hips rolled to suck him in further. He moved his finger in and out, still whispering beneath his breath and blowing gently. "So hot..." he whispered, then his voice trailed off into nothingness.

He slipped a second finger inside and shoved them in and out at a faster pace. I could feel my first orgasm approaching, much stronger than the ones that I brought upon myself. I grasped one of my breasts and pressed my nipple through my shirt, wishing that the barrier was gone so that I could feel my skin. I opened my eyes to look at him and saw him watching me.

"You gonna come soon, love?" he asked in a whisper.

I whimpered as he added a third finger, and I could feel myself racing towards the end, my eyes rolling into darkness, wanting something, anything, to stop this pleasure so akin to pain, and at the same time wishing it could last forever. He slowed his pace, and I teetered on the edge, grasping the edges of the desk for dear life. Then I fell, and I felt his mouth on my tiny bullet, sucking for all it was worth. My hips bucked in his face, and I could feel my loose waves cascade down my back as I was finger-fucked towards bliss. I gasped, and the hand that was not touching me so intimately came up to my mouth and I sucked just like it was his dick, moving my tongue over the digits, searching for the veins and heat.

"Beautiful," he muttered once I'd calmed down. The hand covered in my juices pressed against my mouth then, and I sucked them off, my eyes still closed as my pussy continued to clench and unclench. His mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue meeting mine. I sucked and bit his bottom lip and he groaned, pressing his member against my willing pussy.

"Do you want me to...?" he asked.

"Right now," I said impatiently, grabbing him.

His breath caught as I led him toward my waiting crevice, holding my hips to push inside me. He did it slowly and I felt like crying and laughing simultaneously. It was not my first time, but that didn't seem to matter. My pussy was unused to both his size and length, and I could feel a dull pain that made me cringe, along with the stirrings of another orgasm. He leaned over me and the feel of him as he slid slowly between my legs—his body almost fully pressed against mine, his mouth and tongue on my neck—drove me wild, and I moved my hips faster, whimpering as my slick walls stretched to accommodate him.

"Oh, fuck, forgive me," he moaned. He looked down, watching his cock fuck me in and out, in and out, spreading my pussy lips apart to get a better look. He put his hand on my clit and palmed it, keeping the same pace as his hips. His other hand slid up my plush belly beneath my shirt, slipping the cup of my bra below my right breast to grip my flesh without hindrance. He lifted the shirt up and lowered his head, gently taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking. I gasped, moving my hips a little faster, urging him to match my speed. He obliged.

I stuck my own hand under his shirt, not bothering to unbutton it, just sliding my hand beneath both layers to rest on his chest. I could feel the coarse hairs, the slight pectoral muscle, and the small bud that was his nipple. I pinched it, watching his face for a reaction. He looked me in the eye and pulled me closer to him, so that my ass rested on the very edge of the desk.

"You wanna, play, Ms. Harris?" he asked me, his voice throaty. "Or do you wanna fuck?"

I dug my nails into his skin as he increased his speed slightly, his strong hands grabbing my hips. I could feel him as he entered my core; feel his heat, and the strength of his sex. It felt so fucking good. I leaned back on my arms, wanting to feel closer to him, but not knowing how.

"Fuck me," I whispered when he leaned in to kiss me. "Harder."

His kiss was long and teasing, probing my mouth lazily with his tongue, barely moving his body at all. His hands were still on my hips and they squeezed. "Are you sure? Maybe—"

I was impatient, I know. I wrapped my legs around his back and yanked his body towards me, causing his cock to shove into me. I threw my head back and moaned as he cursed with heated breath into my ear.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said into my neck. Then he spoke no more as he began to piston in and out, every stroke hitting the back of my cervix with enough force and pleasure to make me roll my eyes into the back of my head. My groans grew louder and my harsh breaths turned into pants of anticipation. His hands grabbed my soft globes of flesh again, his fingers digging in gently while he fucked me harder and harder.

"Oh, shit...Lucas...Mr. Alexander...I'm gonna come..." My eyes were shut tight as he pounded, the rocking of the desk almost loud enough to echo throughout the room.

"I have to pull out," he gritted through his teeth. He kissed me with an almost desperate fervor, sucking hard on my lips and wrapping his arms around my back, pulling me to him.

I placed my arms around his neck, sucking and biting the curve of his neck. "No," I managed to gasp on a particularly good stroke, and that was his undoing. He shoved into me with all his strength, hitting my G-spot and biting my lip at the same time. He gave a muffled groan as he came, shooting load after load of weeks of pent up sexual frustration into me, feeling it mix with my own orgasm. We dropped over the edge together, kissing to keep our tortured yells quiet. It was hard, because I had the urge to throw back my head and scream in illicit pleasure. I was a student, fucking a counselor right in his office, and God, how I was loving it. Wave after shuddering wave rode through the walls of my cunt, and I gripped tightly onto him, afraid that I was gonna fall if I let go. He kept rocking through it, and the ribbed walls of my pussy clenched around him, as if trying to commit every stroke to memory.

When our climax finally died away, he was still going softly, leisurely, and I could feel the stirrings of another orgasm. He worked my clit and brought it out, and although it was less intense, it was just as fulfilling, making me smile up at him through heavily lidded eyes. I kept my legs around him, forcing him to stay in me so that I could feel him return to his flaccid state. He kissed me tenderly, my lips red and starting to swell from the ardent embrace of our coming.

Finally, he drew himself away and I slid off the desk. We cleaned ourselves, and the whole while I could feel his eyes on me. I fixed my bra, pulled on my jeans and ducked beneath the desk to grab my sandals. When I was presentable, I turned to him. He was leaning against the wall, a slight sheen of sweat covering his forehead, his bright blue eyes traveling up my body to meet mine.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, my shy nature reasserting herself now that the dirty was done. "I don't know what...I didn't mean..." I trailed off as he walked towards me. He sat in the chair and pulled me to him. He put his hand on the back of my neck and drew me down to kiss him, at the same time taking my left hand and placing it on his cock, safely tucked back into his pants. I immediately cupped it with my palm and gasped: it was hard again.

"I haven't felt like that in a long time, Ms. Harris," he murmured against my lips. He rubbed my hand up and down his shaft, and I could feel the familiar ache in my core, wanting him to come into me again. "Fuck," he whispered, as I squeezed, and he started to pump his hips subtly. His voice became rougher when he said, "You're ready, too, huh, love?"

He stood and slipped a hand beneath the waist of my jeans, gliding two long fingers inside me, finger-fucking me standing up. I could feel his eyes on my face, as I parted my legs and bit my lip. I met his gaze and rocked my hips on his hands, never looking away. I came again, another soft one, and I sucked our blended fluids off his fingers and kissed him.

He pulled me away to gaze down at me for a moment, as if he was reliving every moment that we had fucked. "We can't do this again," he said to me, drawing back. "Ever. Don't come back here after closing, or people will start to get suspicious."

I nodded, stepping away from him. "I just wanted..."

"I know, Ms. Harris." He handed me my purse, and then my schedule, his eyes still burning. "Here's your schedule for next quarter. See me again if you have any difficulties." He walked back to his seat, his cock pressing noticeably at the fabric restraining it. I gave it a look of longing as he sat down and began to rub himself, watching me watching him. ""You have to leave now," he said in a neutral voice.

I nodded. "Goodbye, Mr. Alexander," I whispered, and left, shutting the door behind me. I heard him groan as I pictured him jacking himself off, thinking about us fucking. I knew I couldn't leave him like that. I reopened the door and walked in, dropping my shoes off my feet and setting my purse down. He'd unzipped himself, and had a fully engorged cock waiting for me, rubbing his hand up and down along the shaft.

"Ms. Harris, you must leave!"

"Not when you're looking like that, I don't." I slipped my dark jeans off my legs and went to him. "I'm wet enough for the both of us," I whispered against his mouth, and he groaned at my words, his hands already slipping the crotch of my panties to one side. He reinserted his fingers into me, and I grasped his shoulders as he rubbed my clit and built up that pleasurable release that would have me gasping for breath.

He stopped, and this time, I watched him as he sucked our mingling juices off his own fingers, and I kissed him again, drawing his tongue into my mouth to get a taste of the both of us. I slipped my legs in the space between the seat and the armrest on either side of his chair, and he rolled it back so that it was anchored next to the wall and would not move. His hands slid up my legs, drawing goosebumps over my skin. He held my hips as I grabbed the head of his cock and rubbed it, feeling the beads of pre-cum dampen my fingers. Smiling, I looked at his shut eyes, hearing his breathless moan.

I leaned forward and guided the throbbing tool into the slit of my sex, rubbing it up and down my soaking labia. His hips moved a little faster, but I didn't let him enter. He opened his eyes and stared at me with an unspoken question.

"Say my name, Lucas," I whispered in a husky voice.

He froze. "That's highly inappropriate," he said, grabbing himself from me. He drew my hands and clasped them around his neck, and then pulled my body until my breasts, once again fully clothed, were right in front of his face. He grabbed my hips and said, "But, then again, considering the circumstances..." He trailed off, and before I could stop him, thrust savagely upward.