Professor Cross

"Ms. Moreau, please see me in my office after class," you tell me as soon as I step in your classroom. Well that doesn't sound too good…

And of course I can't fully concentrate on the subject you're teaching, now that you have me wondering about what could be so important you need to discuss it in the privacy of your office.

Not that you usually give that good a class anyway. You take forever to get to the point and your digressions make it even harder to actually identify the point. Plus you are so critical and demanding… no wonder I am one of the rare students who excel in your class!

My grades being what they are, it's not like I need close tutoring… and good thing I don't have any appointments tonight or you would kiss this little meeting goodbye. The only reason I'm going to your office is to satisfy my curiosity as to what it is you want to talk about in private.

And I hope you're not getting all excited about having my tight little ass in your office because even if you weren't a teacher and you could date me, I wouldn't even lay eyes on you. I mean could you be more obnoxious when you inhale deeply before a sentence, probably thinking you're about to say the cleverest thing ever?

"Close the door Ms. Moreau," you say in your nasal tone. Yeah, so you can look at my ass again? You think I don't notice your little green eyes leering and your snaky tongue flicking over your lips whenever you see me?

Like I want to be in a closed room with you! I close the door anyway, facing you, sit in the chair in front of your desk and cross my legs, the hem of my skirt riding up my firm thighs, revealing a hint of the lace trimming from my stockings.

You just look at me, lick your thin lips and cross your hands on your desk. Why do you do that? Do you think it makes you look intelligent? God I hate it when you do it! I can't wait to finish this semester and never hear from you again. You must be the meanest teacher ever.

You consider me silently, cocking your head, thinking you're so fucking superior. I frown and, still not sure what you want from me, and quickly getting more impatient – as if that was possible! - I sigh.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Oh great! Here's one of your long inhalations again! You ignore my question and start, "I have a friend… who… knows you."

What the fuck are you talking about? Get to the point! Jeez…

"So?" I ask with irritation. How did you even become a teacher anyway? Ugh… I rarely think that, but I hate you!

You keep on ignoring me but you still stare at me with your little eyes, as if you wanted to cut me to pieces with a glance. "You know Ms. Moreau, most students work hard to pay for their tuition. Do you have a job?"

A job? I am getting paid regularly but I wouldn't call what I do 'a job'… but why do you want to know? I frown and look at you quizzically. "Why?"

You lean back in your chair and take a long, deep, slow breath… Oh no! You're going to say something very boring you think is the brightest thing ever said again!

"Well, Alexandra," you start, crossing your arms on your chest. Alexandra? Since when do you call me by my first name? I don't like this one bit…

"That friend of mine who… knows you…"

Ugh! Just get to the point! God you speak slowly!

"You had sex with him for money last week end."

So that's what you wanted to see me about?

"And?" I urge you to say what you want to say.

You just smirk, looking at me from head to toe, stopping on your favorite parts - my breasts and thighs.

Now I'm getting really impatient. I stand and head for the door.

"What do you want? A cut on my calls?" I ask, sneering at you, opening the door.

As I step out of your office you stop me with a sentence that is (for once) quick and direct, "Wouldn't it be sad to compromise your reputation as a serious psychologist…"

All right, you got my attention - for a change. I close the door, lean on it and cross my arms on my chest, my big breasts jutting forward as I do so.

"What do you want?" I repeat, ready to negotiate.

You chuckle with your annoying nasally voice and lick your chapped lips. "You are a very pretty girl, Alexandra, and I could use a little company…"

Oh please don't be saying what I think you're saying… you repulse me so much I couldn't even fake wanting to be with you!

"Maybe if you were to keep me company for a while, I could keep my mouth shut about your… 'job'. You know how people are, they'll talk… they'll never take you seriously if they knew what – or who - you are doing after class. Not to mention a possible criminal file."

Think you're fucking clever don't you? "And what if I was to mention our little meeting to the dean? What would people say about you?"

You stand and slowly walk towards me. I cringe at the thought of your sweaty hands touching me.

"You fail to see the point dear," you say, getting so close to me I can smell your cheap cologne.

"This is about you, Alexandra; doesn't matter what they say about me. The point is: do you want them thinking of you as the brilliant therapist, or the dirty slut who fucked her way to her PhD?" you ask, leaning over me, putting your limp arms around my waist and locking your office door.

Shit! You might be right…

"Because that is what they'll think, Alexandra, if I were to mention your 'job'. You know how narrow their minds can be…" you whisper in my ear.

A shiver of disgust gives me goose bumps, and for some reason my nipples think I am getting aroused and decide to grow hard.

I sigh. Fuck, you have a good point. People can be so close-minded. Not that I am about to tell you you're right though!

"Fuck you," I capitulate, looking into your malicious little eyes.

"I knew you'd see it my way, my pretty, dirty, fucking slut," you say, taking the time to kiss and nibble my neck between each insult.

Your cold hands run up my thighs, under my skirt and find my black lace thong. You slide a finger along the crotch and chuckle, "Wearing the standard uniform I see."

Standard uniform? Fuck! Even your sense of humor stinks!

You wrinkle my skirt around my waist and squeeze my ass, nibbling on my earlobe, brushing your crotch on my hip. I don't move and suffer your fondling silently.

You sigh and caress my cheek with your slimy hand.

"No… Alexandra, this isn't going to work. You either have to be a good, convincing whore, or I'll be forced to reveal your…'secret'. Which will it be, dear?" you ask in a calm tone.

"Look asshole, there is no way I will ever be able to pretend to like you. I accepted to keep you company, so I'll let you do whatever you want to me, but I'll remain dry," I answer in an equally calm tone.

You raise a brow, as if doubting what I just said.

Your moist hand goes up my inner thigh and you start rubbing my pussy through my black lace thong. And damn it, you're good at it! Sliding your finger slowly, barely touching my pussy, teasing almost.

I get wet quickly; blessing or curse I still don't know.

"Well… the slut is getting wet… good," you chuckle, your thin, dirty fingers sliding inside my thong and finding my sensitive clit, rubbing it gently.

I don't know how many women you paid to teach you how to rub a clit that way but I hear myself moan out of pleasure as your disgusting fingers play with my swollen clit.

"At least your cunt knows what's good for you."

What pitiful whore would let you touch her that way?

You're rubbing my clit so good I actually hold on to your shoulders as I get a feeling you'll make me cum soon. But I quickly realize what I'm doing – holding on to you? Fuck! No! - and I lean on the door instead, digging my fingernails into my palms.

You smirk like a pervert and quickly grab my shoulders to push me on your desk. I don't resist, somewhat happy you stopped touching my pussy.

You try to kiss me but I purse my lips and back away before your lips touch mine.

"Fine," you say between your teeth, violently spreading my thighs wide with your god damn filthy hands.

The crotch of my thong is quickly on one side of my pussy and your head is soon between my thighs.

"Oohh fuck no… don't eat my pussy… I'll suck your cock instead, ok?" I try to negotiate. I don't want to feel your pointy tongue on my clit and maybe if I suck you off I'll be done with you quicker.

You just bite my pink pussy lip and snarl, "Too little too late, bitch!"

You take a deep breath, as if you were going to lecture me, but instead slowly start to lick my clit. And damn it! You're good at this too!

I bite my lips and try to hold back my moans as your coarse tongue pleasure me against my will.

"Shit… fuck you… damn dickless bastard! Fucking son of a bitch!" I whisper, almost chanting.

You don't stop. You continue eating my pussy, sticking one, or two? - I don't even want to know! - of your abject fingers in my slippery cunt.

I wince as I feel my orgasm start. I can't believe you actually have sexual experience! How on earth did you ever become able to make a woman cum? You're so fucking… repugnant!

I hold my breath as I cum. I do this only when there is no way I can be heard, which is rare, so I feel a bit lightheaded. I don't want to give you the impression I enjoyed your mouth. You made me cum, but it was purely a physical reaction.

"You disgust me!" I moan with the last wave of my orgasm.

You let me catch my breath and lean over me. Your lips are glistening with my pussy juice. Your breath smells of me. You smirk this perverted smirk again, your hard cock grinding on my crotch.

I hesitate… I feel like spitting in your face and wipe that fucking smirk off. But I don't want to anger you. I didn't humiliate myself cumming under your sickening tongue for nothing.

You seem to read my mind and that sick, perverted smirk turns into a maniacal grin.

"You learn quickly, Alexandra. Such a good student you are…"

I repress a curse as you unzip your trousers and slowly pull out your dick. I try not to notice how big it is as I lie there, my thighs widely spread, waiting for you to just get it over with.

You don't waste time. Neither do you take it. You just shove your cock all the way in my unwilling pussy.

And start pumping me hard. In and out your cock goes. Your eyes never closing always looking into mine, your damn annoying nasal voice moaning and insulting me.

"Your little slut pussy is so damn tight, Alexandra. So fucking wet."

Damn you! How can I be enjoying myself with you? Have you seen your disgusting flabby stomach? What cheap slut could ever be attracted to that? How desperate would a girl need to be to let you stick your vile dick in her?

Just when I thought you couldn't do anything worse, your thumb starts rubbing my clit.

Fuck no! You're going to make me cum again! Why can't you just have your little orgasm and leave me be?

You continue ravaging my pussy, grunting and sweating. Eww! Some of your sweat drips on my lips as you lean over me. I quickly wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

You let out a little yelping laughter, "Ha! Soon enough you'll be drinking my cum my dirty slut!"

I frown, whispering, "What?" I'll throw up if you cum in my mouth! Please don't…

"Relax… not today. Today I'm just gonna fill your tight hole. Next week though, after class, you will suck my cock. And you will love it," you grunt, fucking me harder.

Your thumb on my clit is slowly making me cum, and by some stupid irony, you cum exactly at the same time as me.

I shiver under you as your thick, nauseating cream quickly fills my pussy.

You just stand still for a short while, catching your breath. I am panting too. Though I've known better orgasms, I've also known worse lovers.

I shudder at this very thought; how can I think of you as a lover?

Again, you seem to read my mind – not so bad a teacher after all, reading your students well enough to know what they're thinking – and grin, exposing your white, pointy teeth.

You slowly pull out of my pussy and replace my thong. For some reason I feel empty… I sit on your desk and shake my head my fingers rubbing on my forehead as if by hiding my eyes you'd just disappear.

You readjust your slacks and smile at me - a weird, friendly, warm smile. Or is it just the same smile seen from a different perspective?

"Remember to hand in your analysis before next Tuesday, Ms. Moreau," you say in that nasal voice which suddenly doesn't sound so annoying.

I smile and nod, making sure my denim skirt is presentable. Your thick, sticky cum is slowly leaking from my pussy and my thong won't hold it for long. Good thing I'm headed home.

"Thank you, Professor Cross," I say, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. Thank you Professor Cross? Since when do I call you Professor? Since when do I respect you? What the fuck have you done to me?