My Best Student

(Written for a special friend.)

As we walked back from the dining hall, we could see our breath in the crisp evening winter air. Jennie was wearing some form-fitting jeans, and her shapely figure was accented surprisingly well by the down ski-jacket that she had on. Her silky black hair seemed strangely radiant in the moonlight, especially in contrast with the snow on the ground. I’ve noticed that some Chinese-American women go to great lengths to make their hair look more "European," but I was glad that she left hers with its original beauty. "It was a great idea for them to hold the conference up here," she said. "Hotels in big cities are always the same. This ski lodge has character."

I pretended to protest. "Bull. It’s cold, I have to walk through snow, and I don’t ski."

"But it’s beautiful, you philistine!"

"You young people are easily impressed," I humphed.

"Sorry grandpa," she teased back. "Are you this grumpy with your wife?"

"My wife find me utterly charming."

"Obviously a very patient woman," she remarked, smiling. As we walked up to my cabin, she continued, "And why, pray tell, do you get your own chateau here?"

"It’s just a tiny cabin. And I’m a big, bad-ass successful professor so I deserve the best they have."

"Oooo, I’m trembling in admiration!" She smiled and asked, "Do I get to see what it looks like inside the royal residence?"

I laughed. "Sure. I know you’ll be impressed. Just try not to accidentally touch the walls or it may all fall down." We went in and I turned on the lights. It actually was a very charming cabin. It was rustic -- but that’s part of the ambience. I noticed Jennie shiver and rub her arms as she looked around. "I was gonna start a fire. Do you want to warm yourself for a few minutes before you go to your room at the lodge?"

"Thanks, that’d be great."

Like every male, I love making fires, so I happily went to work arranging the crumpled newspapers, kindling and logs, and then started it burning. When I turned around, I looked at Jennie sitting on the couch. She had taken her boots off, and was sitting with her feet folded underneath her. She had also put aside her jacket. I couldn’t help but notice how many buttons were open at the top of her blouse, and how her chest strained against the material. "Whoa, boy," I thought to myself. "You’re married, and she’s old enough to be your daughter. Well, she could be my older brother’s daughter anyway." I sat down with her on the couch. As soon as I did, I felt like I’d sat too close to her, but I decided it would seem awkward to get up and move away now. "Stop acting like a nervous teenager," I told myself. "She’s a graduate student and you’re her advisor. In her eyes, you ARE ‘grandpa.’ "

She spoke up: "I got a lot out of your talk today. When I read your earlier research, I understood that you were throwing light on traditional Hindu thought, but listening to today’s talk was the first time it became clear to me that you see your research as having practical implications." I felt comfortable again now that we were talking shop. Jennie is one of the best students I have ever had. I’ve always gotten so much out of our conversations. "Yes," I explained, "I think that the Hindu notion of social roles still has a lot of relevance. Obviously, we don’t want to go back to a totally old-fashioned system, but I think we’d be better off if people in our society today did take more seriously their obligations as leaders, teachers, students, fathers, mothers, children, and such."

Jennie‘s eyes narrowed in concentration and she asked, "But how do you reconcile that with other aspects of the Hindu tradition?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, the Kama Sutra is one of the most notorious sex manuals in the world. But it’s also as much a part of the Hindu tradition as the notion of social obligation."

I nodded. "You’re quite right. But, you see, that’s the beauty of Hindu ethics! They don’t see any inconsistency between living a good life and enjoying sex. In fact, they stress that enjoying sex is a crucial part of living well!"

"Do you agree with everything in the Kama Sutra?"

I chuckled. "I’m sure I don’t know that text as well as practitioners like yourself." She gave me a look of mock indignation, then smiled. I continued, "Seriously, though, I do think that it’s a very insightful work, not just about human sexuality, but about life in general."

Jennie looked away for a moment, like she was pondering what I had said. Then she leaned a little closer to me. I found myself fighting the instinct to peek into the blouse that was now inches below my head. She asked, "So you agree with the part where it says that a married man should -- how do they put it -- ‘Stimulate the heat of his male organs by enjoying younger women’?"

I laughed. "Wow, you have been doing your homework!" I paused, wondering how honestly I should answer this question. I decided that Jennie was a good enough student that she deserved my candor. "Well, to be frank, I think that monogamy is not always a very realistic arrangement. Marriage is many things: a romantic relationship, to be sure, but also a sexual relationship, a financial relationship, a parental relationship. No marriage is perfect in every area, especially not over the course of many years. I wonder if we would have so many unhappy homes, and so many divorces, if people were more flexible in sexual matters. And, of course, almost all men fantasize about younger women."

Jennie‘s limpid eyes stared into mine, and she asked, "Do you fantasize about younger women?"

This was the first point at which it occurred to me that Jennie was doing something other than just gathering information for her doctoral thesis. My heart started to beat faster, and blood started rushing away from my brain and into other parts of my anatomy. I wasn’t sure what I should say, or even what I wanted to happen. I’d noticed how sexy Jennie was before. How could I not? But I had honestly never envisioned anything sexual actually happening between us. And despite my brave talk about "flexibility in sexual matters," I had never contemplated adultery. This was so surprising, so complex, so dangerous! But while the rational part of my brain was weighing all these concerns, some other part of my brain (one that developed much earlier in the evolutionary process) was telling my mouth what to say. "Yes," I heard myself saying. "I find some kinds of younger women quite sexy."

"What kind?" she said, not missing a beat.

"I think intelligence is very sexy. I like a woman who has a passion for learning. But I’m also susceptible to more obvious charms." As I said this, I did what I had been forbidding myself to do since the first day Jennie walked into my classroom: I let my eyes wander down her body and take it all in. Yes, her breasts were just as well-rounded as they had looked in my occasional furtive glimpses. I noticed for the first time that she wasn’t wearing a bra tonight. My knees got weak at the sight of the outline of her hard nipples pushing against her shirt. Her body was lithe and seemed to possess a catlike grace. I felt a surge of power as I realized that she was moving under my gaze. She straightened her back as I looked at her breasts, and she stretched her long legs out and curled her toes as my gaze moved down. When I looked back up at her face, her eyes seemed languid and her lips were parted seductively. "What kind of men do you like?" I asked softly.

She looked away and cocked her head, coquettishly. "I like smart, accomplished men. You know, the kind of older men who are more ... experienced ... at things." She looked back and gave me a sly smile.

I felt myself being swept away. But the rational part of my brain got one last gasp of strength. So I said, "You know, one thing the Kama Sutra assumes is that a married man’s other lovers will become part of his household as his official concubines. That job description isn’t open in our society, though. And besides," I said, smiling, "I couldn’t afford a concubine on my salary."

Jennie smiled back. "Isn’t it like you said, though? When we look for insight in ancient texts, we have to adapt them to our contemporary situation. A modern woman doesn’t need to become a man’s concubine. She can take care of herself. And, by the way, a modern woman also understands that she has to be very discreet, both for the sake of the man’s home life and for the sake of his career."

"Does the modern woman understand that she’ll be the one who gets hurt when the relationship eventually ends and the man goes back to his wife?"

Jennie smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, she does."

I frowned. I liked Jennie as a student. I started to say, "Maybe we shouldn’t --" but Jennie cut me off. Giving me a naughty grin, she said, "I’d like to return to your earlier lecture topic, professor. What’s your favorite position from the Kama Sutra?"

"Hmmm," I said, putting my hand on my chin and feigning intense concentration. "I think you’re not advanced enough yet to discuss sexual positions. Let’s start with foreplay."

Her smile broadened. "Whatever you say, professor!"

"The Kama Sutra says that, after the lovers have been stimulated by suggestive conversation, they may proceed to gentle caresses." With the tips of the fingers on my left hand, I barely touched her, tracing a line from her hair (which I had longed to touch for so long), down her neck, over her shoulder, to her arm, around her hips, and down her leg. She shivered when I finished. Then she looked at me expectantly, but I smiled and just asked, "Do you understand that lesson?"

"I think so," she answered. She reached over and cupped the side of my face with her right hand. God, her hand was so soft it made me ache! I turned toward her palm and softly kissed it. I heard her gasp quietly at the touch of my lips. Then she drew her hand down and rubbed my chest softly, obviously enjoying the feel of it. As her hand slid to my stomach, I wondered where she would go next. But she moved it off to the side, just barely intruding into the edge of my lower torso. She obviously could play the teasing game too! Her hand continued, going around to briefly caress my behind, then visiting the back of my thigh. The fact that we were going so slowly, and were controlling our touching so much, made each contact feel electric with passion. "Is that right, teacher?" she asked, with a cute little pout.

I was enjoying this game of who-can-hold-back-the-longest, so I tried to sound calm as I said, "You’re a good student. You must have had a lot of practice."

"Oh no, not me," she replied, putting on an almost convincing appearance of wide-eyed innocence. "I’m like a ripe, untouched fruit ... all ready to pick ... and eat. Do you like eating ripe fruit? I do. I like the feel of the sweet juices as they run down my chin."

We had unconsciously moved even closer to each other. Her face was just inches away, and I could smell her sweet breath. "Let me help you clean off that juice," I said, bending in to give her a soft kiss on the chin. Her lips opened, and I heard her breathe faster. She obviously was aching for me to kiss her passionately on the mouth. But I just kissed her gently on one cheek ... then the other ... then the tip of her nose (that made us both smile). I pulled back some of her silky hair away from her ear, and kissed it. She started to squirm, almost imperceptibly. I nibbled, just so she could barely feel it, on her earlobe. I felt her hands pushing me back. She caught her breath and said, "Okay. Let me see if I got that lesson." With effortless grace, she straddled me on the couch. Feeling her on top of me, and seeing her breasts now staring me in the face, it took every ounce of willpower to restrain myself from taking her to the floor and ripping her clothes off. But Jennie and I are both strong-willed people, and we’re both just too damn stubborn to be the first one to admit that we need it RIGHT NOW. It was a competitive game of love, and a wonderful one to win or lose. I wasn’t sure I could hold out much longer, but I could tell that she was weakening herself. She was trembling as she bent down to kiss my chin ... cheeks .... nose. Every sound was incredibly sexy as she nibbled on my ear: her quivering breath, the smack of her lips and tongue as she mouthed my ear. Delicately cupping her head with both hands, I brought her lips to mine. She was an exquisite kisser. Her moist lips mouthed my top lip. I nibbled her bottom lip back. Her tongue darted out, and the pointed tip danced along the edge of my lips. I moaned softly as I started to think ahead to where that tongue might be later. I felt her smile. She knew she was winning. But somehow I didn’t mind losing one bit.

I started kissing her back passionately. Our tongues wrestled playfully. Sometimes the tips of our tongues would spar with each other. Other times our tongues would push flat against each other, as if they were hugging. I noticed that her hips were starting to buck, pushing her crotch against mine. I instinctively reached up and caressed her breast. "Mmmmmmmm," she moaned. She was responding so passionately that I gingerly took her erect nipple between my thumb and index finger and gave it a playful squeeze. "Uhhhhhh," she groaned, even louder than before, and the thrusting of her hips became more intense. I felt so powerful, so virile, making this sweet, sexy young girl respond to me like this. I guess I have a mean streak, because I couldn’t resist one more tease. I pushed her back a little, and, with a flirtatious look on my face, I said, "Oh, I don’t know. This is so wrong. Maybe we should just stop right now." She was flushed and was actually panting as she looked at me with lust (and a little anger) in her eyes. "Yeah," she said, "you’re probably right," but then she undid another button on her blouse. "You’re taking advantage of me." (Another button opened.) "You’re so much older than I am." (Another button.) "Plus you’re my thesis supervisor." (Another button.) "What’s next? Will you make me have sex with you for grades?" (Another button.) "Will I have to fellate you in your office in between classes?" (Another button.) "You’re really a dirty old goat, you know." (Last button.) And with that she slowly pulled open her blouse, exposing her perky breasts. I stared at them, transfixed, for what seemed like a long time. But it was probably only a few seconds before she said, in a dry monotone: "So stop. Don’t. Oh no. Please don’t." The she smiled wickedly and added, "Et cetera."

That was it. She had won. No more holding back. I leaned forward and started to feast on her breasts. I kissed them, nuzzled them, cupped them, caressed them, suckled them. Judging from Jennie’s moaning and squirming, I was hitting all the right spots too. I grabbed her arms and maneuvered her so that she was lying back on the couch. Her hands started to pull at the buttons on my own shirt. Some of them she undid, but others just popped under her urgent fingers. She started to rub my chest, and moaned in a low voice, "Oh, I love a man with a hairy chest." Before I knew it we were grinding our crotches against each other through our jeans. I hadn’t "dry humped" since I was a teenager. I’d forgotten how sexy it could be. Jennie was starting to play with my nipples. Smart girl. Lots of women forget that men often like that as much as women do. I slid down a little so I could suck her hard, sexy nipples. As I did, my leg ended up between hers. She started to grind herself against my upper thigh. Her motions were becoming more and more desperate. I thought she might have an orgasm soon, so I started to unbutton her pants. But then I caught myself, wondering whether she was ready for that tonight. "Jennie, darling," I whispered. "Do you want to just cum like this? It’s okay if you’re not ready to do more." I was pleasantly surprised by her response. She gasped, "I want to suck your cock. I want to fuck. I want it all." I was so excited to hear her talking dirty. I’d only heard her do that before in some of my more nasty fantasies. I started to pull her jeans off. "I want to eat you," I moaned. "I need to lick your sweet pussy." "Oh, god, yes!" she answered. I took just a moment to appreciate the sexy red silk panties she had worn for me, before I tugged them off. I bent down to explore her pussy. She opened her legs so I could get a better look. She was vvveerrryy wet, and her pussy lips were full and open with lust. Her clit was quite visible, ready for my attention. A porno director couldn’t have arranged a better picture.

"Do it!" she prompted.

"Ask for it," I pleaded. "I want to hear you ask for it."

She reached down and pulled open her pussy lips even wider. "Lick it! Lick my pussy! Oh, I need your tongue on my clit and in my pussy-hole!" I dived in. Some men will tell you that one woman’s privates are pretty much like another woman’s. Some men are fools. Each woman has a distinctive quim. The color, texture and amount of hair, the size of the clit, the shape of the lips, the sweet aroma of her juices -- each contributes to a unique combination. I’ve loved every pussy I’ve ever feasted on, but some are better -- more beautiful, more sensual -- than others. This was an exquisite cunnie. I ate it passionately, and could almost have cum just from doing that. First, I gave her clit little butterfly flicks with my tongue. Then I ran my tongue up and down the folds of her pussy lips and into her vagina, tongue-fucking her for a moment. She instinctively twisted her hips, pushing her clit closer to my mouth. I went back to work on it, flicking gently at first, but then gradually increasing the firmness. Jennie was now moaning loudly, alternating with inarticulate expressions of pleasure: "Oh yes ... fuck ... it feels so good." Then she whispered something so quietly I could barely make it out: "Eat it. Eat my pussy you filthy cunt-licker." My head popped up. "What?" She started to sit up and apologize: "Sweetheart, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that! I don’t know why that came out!" I quickly put a hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to lie back down, as I smiled and said, "Don’t apologize, baby. I was surprised, but ... it was actually kind of sexy." I went back to tonguing her clit. "What was that ... you said before?" I said in between licks. She smiled and started to talk more loudly: "I said you’re a filthy little cunt-licker. Uhhh, fuck, yes. Lick my pussy, you bastard. That‘s it. Nnnnnn. Work it, you cunt-eater." She wrapped her hands, with their sharp red nails, in my hair, and tentatively shoved my head into her crotch. I pulled my head up long enough to say, "Not very strong, are you?" She got the hint. Soon, she was grabbing my hair like a cowgirl holding the reins of a bronco. She was riding my face like we were in a sex rodeo too. I’m really not the submissive type, but I was enjoying the wanton abandon with which Jennie was "using" me for her pleasure. I liked feeling her squirm underneath my tongue, and having her squish her pussy as hard as she could into my face.

Suddenly, she unceremoniously shoved me off of her. I slid onto the floor. She lay on the couch, panting, with sweat glistening on her nubile young body. I sat there with her pussy juice all over my face, looking surprised. She looked up at me and explained, "I have to have your cock." I smiled and stood up slowly. I pulled down my pants. I was glad I had put on some sexy blue jockey shorts that morning. She smiled when she saw the prominent bulge underneath them. I walked over to her and jutted my crotch out, invitingly. She reached up and pulled my briefs down. She looked at my cock and balls admiringly. Then she reached up and started to explore them slowly. Holding my balls in her hand, she gently squeezed them. I felt them tighten with lust. With her other hand, she gently pinched the shaft of my cock between her fingers. She squeezed at various points along the shaft, like she was inspecting a fruit for ripeness. I felt so sexy and masculine with my hard cock in her small, white hand, with its sexy red nails.