Wren In Love

"Not just," said Mark. "It's conversation borne of mutual regard. And friendship. Besides, maybe talking about it will make you feel better, help you put it in perspective."

"Ho ho," Wren chuckled. "I don't think so, Perfesser."

He smiled and shrugged, but genially, more a "have it your way" shrug than a "whatever" shrug.

Wren began humming quietly to herself, a nervous habit, and looked about his office as if examining it for the first time though she'd seen it plenty. Mark Park rocked gently in his old wooden desk chair, its spring wheezing lightly.

"Well!" said Wren, a valediction, "back to work!" and slapped her palms on the arms of her chair, pushed herself up.

"Now THAT was a short conversation," said Mark Park.

Her turn to shrug.

"I know, sorry," she said. "But I just... I gotta finish reading these papers or I'm going to be here all day."

"Okay," he said, almost a whisper. "Good luck with that."

Wren returned to her office and resumed staring at the composition she'd been annotating. She read the same sentence a couple-three times before dropping her pencil on the desk, tipping far back in her chair and putting the palms of her hands over her eyes. Godammit, she thought, this is maddening; I'm insane. She placed the heel of her hand on her snugly denimed crotch and pressed, pulsing slightly, then stopped. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

Wren slipped out of the fleece vest she was wearing overtop a tight, black, V-neck sweater and strode back down the hall to Professor Park's office. She tapped again lightly on his door again as she passed it purposefully into the room but had no intention of waiting to be invited in, and closed it quietly but firmly behind her.

"Wren?" he said a bit uncertainly, and rolled his chair back from his desk slightly. "Just..." she held up a hand. "Relax, just..."

She continued without pause around the desk to his side, grabbed the arms of his chair and rolled him toward her as she leaned back against the desk top. She pulled the hem of her sweater up under her armpits and peeled back the cups of her sheer black bra. She grabbed his shirt front and drew him closer.

"Just kiss my breasts," she said softly. "Please... just kiss them. That's all."

Professor Park looked confused, perhaps stunned, she wasn't sure. She took his hand and placed his palm against her stomach which was flat and smooth and warm and soft. With an unexpected suddenness, the contact of his skin on hers seemed, for her, one of the most erotic and intimate things she could remember experiencing of late. Her breasts were slight; her nipples were dark brown and stiffened from the cool of the office. Carefully, with this hand still in place, he leaned forward and kissed her right breast, just along the undercurve, and then again, slightly higher. He did it so tentatively that she could barely feel his lips, which were dry and soft.

"Ohhh," she breathed, and very lightly cupped her hand at the back of his head, twining her fingers in his soft hair.

He kissed further, closer to her nipple but never quite touching it, up along the inside of her breast and then her sternum before moving to her left breast. She looked down at him.

"Suck it," she whispered. She was still holding up her sweater and brassiere with her hand. She replaced it with his, instead. He seemed to lean in now more urgently, placing his hand on the small of her back while he held up her clothing with the other. When he took her nipple between her lips, she quietly grunted, and when he started to suck on it, she exhaled long and fervently.

"I was going to have to do this anyway," she said quietly as she popped the button on her jeans with her free hand and lowered the zipper, "but this is going to make it easier. Keep sucking..."

She slipped her hand into her open pants and curled two fingers insider herself, then drew them out slowly, over her clitoris. She pressed and pulsed her fingers there, slowly at first, and then less so, before sliding them insider herself again, deeper this time, as far as she could reach in this position.

"Suck on my nipples, Professor Park," she whispered, but it was less an instruction than a sort of incantation, or a response to what was happening, and just as much for her own benefit as for his.

"Suck on them... make them hard. That's good. That's good." She was breathing these words as she began rocking her hips now, the hand insider her jeans working faster. "My cunt. Is so wet. And hot. Suck my tits, Professor Park. Suck my soft little tits... Oh... Oh fuck..."

She started to come, her orgasm purling up through her core, like a rapid unspooling, her abdomen clenching and unclenching, and suddenly complemented by nervy blast when he squeezed her nipple gently between his front teeth. She cursed at each intermittent jolt as it continued. Mark turned his head and she clasped him tightly to her chest, his cheek slightly rough against her sweaty sternum, where beneath her heart tripped vigorously along. She held him there for a long time.

"That was nice, Mark," she said finally, lessening her grip on him. "Thank you."

He made a little grunting sort of laugh and pulled back from her slowly, sighing.

"Switch places with me," she said.

"Wren, I..."

"Just switch places. I just want to do the same for you."

He stood, and they pirouetted slowly. She sat down in his desk chair, glanced briefly at the bulge in his chinos, and began unbuttoning his Oxford.

"This is not—" he started.

"I love a grown man's chest," she said, yanking his shirt tail up and out, finishing the last of the buttons. His chest was modestly covered in dark hair, with a gray one coiling out here and there. She smoothed both hands up his stomach and fanned them out across his pectorals. Then she leaned forward and began to lightly kiss his chest. She took his right nipple in her mouth, began to softly suck, and he sighed.

"This is too much," he whispered, though she wasn't sure to whom. Her eyes were closed and she was alternately kissing and sucking him.

"Take out your cock and stroke it," she said. She placed both her hands on his waist and began to suck harder. "You going to do it anyway," she said lightly. "Might as well be now."

She felt the backs of his hands brushing against her stomach as he unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers. Then, still kissing him, she felt his whole body begin to rock gently.

"Stroke your cock, Professor," she whispered, moving from one nipple to the other, biting, licking, sucking, and kissing. "Warm me up with your hot cum... Shoot your hot cum on me."

His breathing grew rapid and shallow, and he was pumping his cock so quickly that he almost felt to be trembling.

"Mmm-hmmm," she hummed, sucking hard on the nipple between her lips, "Mmmm-hmmmm."

"Ohh... ohh God..." said Park. There was that urgency to his gasps that Wren understood completely. She rolled herself forward in the chair as far as she could get between his legs and leaned back in it, holding up her sweater and bra, and looking for the first time at his engorged cock, encased in the blur of his pumping fist. He stopped suddenly, and in the next beat, he shot the first large spurt of cum directly up the middle of her stomach and chest, a thick ribbon of warm semen that was a tingling shock to her skin. He stroked and stopped, stroked and stopped, each time shooting cloudy white ropes of diminishing length on her smooth, olive-tinged flesh. It ran down her stomach coolly, down over her belly button and to the line of her panties.

"Professor Park," said Wren, drawing a finger up through the cum coating her smooth, trim belly, and the sucking it clean. "That was quite an impressive load. I think I'm in love."

"Wren, are you okay?"

Wren looked up. Professor Park was peering around the jamb of her office door, his leather satchel in hand.

"Hey," she smiled, "yeah, I'm good. Um, just... zoning out for sec."

"I'm taking off. I'll see you Monday," said Mark Park.

"Yeah, I'm about to wrap things up here, too. Okay. See you Monday, Perfesser."

Wren listened to his footfalls and their small echoes as he walked down the hall. She sat quietly until she heard the elevator receive him. She put a hand under her sweater and smoothed it along her bare stomach, which was warm, smooth and dry. Fuck, she thought.