Orchid Ch. 03

"Yes," she squeals, as she claws at the table. "Oh God yes!"

I twist at the shoulder, pressing my right arm down along her back to keep her neck arched and her torso flat against the table, so she doesn't roll backwards. I make a mental note to revisit as much of my Akido classes as I can remember to see how else I can use her body against her, but it needs to be something I do later because I can't stop myself any longer. I can't hold back. Susan groans, layered between her hissing breath and her high-pitched mewling, as I roll my hips. Fucking her, thrusting in and out of her, but keeping the focus elsewhere.

She wails as I spank her again, only overlapping the very edge of the spot I'd singled out before, though my hips keep a constant pressure on the center of the bruise A second spank, the hardest yet, and my hand is absolutely throbbing. I can feel my own pulse in my fingertips, and it's electric. It's eye-opening.

It's incredible.

"Yes-yes-yes," Susan squeals, finally pulling words through the stew of hormones drowning her system. "Harder!" She can do little but cling to the table as I pull, thrust, and abuse her flesh. As I flood her nervous system. "Harder!"

I spank her three times in rapid succession, bringing a deep, blushing red hue to her left cheek, and Susan groans ferociously. Heaving. Her spine twists and curls as she cums, and I push her through it without respite. Keeping my wrist tightly twisted, and my knuckles pressed against the back of her skull. Keeping my hips going.

Faster through the hips.

"Yes!"

Finally pulling back enough that there's a sliver of space between our hips before crashing back into her.

"Yes!!"

Pure instinct guides me to ease off the accelerator, relaxing my hold and slowing everything down, but as soon as she can breathe enough to see straight, Susan reaches back and behind herself to grab at my arm. She moves with less composure than I'm used to from her, but with no less intensity, as she pushes me backwards onto one of the kitchen chairs. I blink, trying to clear away a haze of euphoria, though I know I didn't cum, and she's on me in seconds. Straddling me in the chair. Feet perched on the little bars that run between the chair legs. Her breasts, larger than mine and beautifully lowered with age, press into my face as she tucks her shoulders inward. She lifts herself, just for a moment, and reaches between us to guide my cock right back inside her, and we both gasp. I squirm back and forth, slouching little by little to try and get further underneath her, and moan as just a tiny bit more of me finds a home inside her.

I'm not getting rid of it. Not now. Not ever.

She cradles my jaw in her hands, keeping my face up toward hers. Her thighs pop and flex as she bounces in my lap, knees spread wide to either side.

"Look at me," she whispers. "Look at me."

"I am," I croak.

"Look at me."

And then I do. At the way her face lengthens when her mouth comes open. At the way her mascara has streaked. At the way her hair, which always frames her face just so, is all out of sorts.

"This is what you do to me," she whispers.

Intuition brings my right hand around behind her hip like a whip, and Susan howls. Fresh tears sparkle in her eyes as she leans forward to kiss me. Neither of us can manage to maneuver our tongues, doing all we can to control our hips and hands, but the wetness on her lips isn't all saliva.

"Again," she hisses. My hand is numb, though I can feel each impact through my wrist. Through the bones, and the way she whimpers. "Fuck! Again!"

She leans past me, tucking her head over my shoulder and wrapping her arms around the back of the chair. Hugging us both. Clinging for dear life as she rides me. Her chest swells and retracts too quickly for breath. My eyes bulge when I feel her sobbing. Crying as she cums again. Internally, I acknowledge the urge to slow down and embrace her, but ultimately I lean on my trust in her as I bring my aching hand in again and again.

Somewhere in the middle of her hysterical moaning, I hear it; a 'stop' almost indistinguishable through the rest of her moaning, and I bring my arms around her ribs. Clinging to her as she spasms. Kissing her shoulder.

I am her anchor. I am her tether.

Her eyes are completely bloodshot when she leans back for the first time. Hesitant to meet mine, but searching for them all the same. Afraid. I don't trust my screaming right hand to be steady, and instead bring the left up to touch just the tip of her chin. She whimpers as I lift and center her, facing me, and kiss her softly.

"Yes," she moans into the kiss, without her lips breaking from mine. "Oh thank god." More kissing. No tongue, though our heads tilt slightly to either side as we come back together. "Oh god."

"Hello," I say, when our foreheads finally touch.

She squeezes her eyes shut and nods, unable to summon the words.

"Are you okay?"

"yeah!" she gasps weakly. She nods jerkily, as if worried that her unsteady delivery would undermine her point. "Yeah. Yeah."

I run my hands up and down her back, though I can't really be sure the right hand is touching her. Feeling hasn't returned yet. Susan bites down on her lip and sighs.

"Are you still cumming?"

"Ye-yes. Yes. Yes."

"Holy shit," I whisper. I run my hands down past her hips, and curl them around her thighs. She groans, clenching even tighter around me for a moment, and gives a long, drawn out sigh.

"Did..." She blinks and licks her lips. "Did you cum?"

I shake my head.

"No?"

"No," I say, smiling softly. "But it's okay."

"But—"

I let go of her leg and lay a single finger over her quivering lip. "No. Not right now."

"But—"

"No."

She blinks at me, utterly perplexed, and I smile broadly.

"Trust me. With the way I feel right now? I don't need it."

"Really?"

I nod. "Besides," I say, leaning in until her eyes cross slightly, and the tips of our noses touch. "We have the rest of our lives for me to fill your every hole with cum over, and over, and over."

"Thank you," she sobs, hugging me with every part of her body. "Thank you."

***

"Are you sure you don't need any of this stuff?" Eve says. "Because once it's on my property for 24 hours, it's mine."

"I'm sure," I laugh, as I hug her again and try not to cry. "I'm sure."

Eve grins as we separate, and gives me a meaningful arch of her eyebrow as she watches Calvin take the last two boxes out the door. "He is—"

"Back off, slut."

"Bitch," she fires back, tossing her head like the sassy little thing that she is. Her freshly-dyed pink hair falls in envious waves, and I let out a long breath as I look around. Mentally going through my list again. "I'm not actually going to steal any of your stuff."

"I know."

"Just text me if there's anything you think of."

"Okay," I say, taking a half step toward the door. "Remember, no wild parties. Mrs. Yanov will complain."

"I know," she groans.

"And—"

"Oh-my-god-fucking-go-already!"

"Love you too," I say, hugging her again.

She follows me to the door and waves. "And for the record," she shouts down the hall, "I'm fucking, like, half the number of people you are—"

"Oh my god," I groan, cheeks blushing, as I scurry away.

"—so if either one of us is the slut, it's you!"

Calvin is waiting in the elevator, holding the door for me, and I sigh happily as I slip inside with him. The moment the door closes I pounce him, but in the span of a breath it's my back against the wall. The feel of his weight surrounding me is just...

"Do you need to see the landlord before we go?" he asks, several beautiful seconds and one toe-curling kiss later.

"No," I say, trying to hide how eager I am. "I talked to him when I got here earlier, and he confirmed it was fine for her to take over the lease."

"Has your sister ever lived alone before?"

"She'll be fine. As long as she doesn't burn the place down."

Calvin laughs for a moment, and then stares at me quizzically when I don't laugh too.

"It was a phase." And then it hits me. "Oh!" I cry. "Oh oh oh!!! I know what it is!"

"What what is?"

"The painting! The unfinished one! It's not a balloon, it's a flower!"

Calvin smiles and stands up a little taller. "Okay," he says easily. "Can't wait to see it."

***

Epilogue

Calvin does his best not to stare at me as his lecture hall slowly empties. I lick my lips and grin. There's a humorous observation buried somewhere in the other students' eagerness for the bell to arrive so they can rush off to whatever mindless self-pleasure they have lined up for themselves. When I was actually a student in Calvin's class, I would have been just as happy if the bell had never come.

I mean, it's not actually a bell. It's some kind of buzzer, but the point is the same.

He smiles as he collects his papers from across the desk and organizes them. Taking his time. A few other students linger, talking in a small group. I can't hide the smile when I realize one of them is staring at Calvin. Believe me, sister, I get it. I stay in my seat though, slightly slouched with my legs crossed, and wait patiently. Eventually my patience is rewarded, and Calvin is cool as the last three students leave through the side door.

"What did you think?" Calvin asks, pitching his voice up.

"Hemingway never sounded sexier."

He laughs, shaking his head, and glances around at the doors again. "I was surprised to see you sneak in the back there."

"I was hoping you wouldn't spot me right away, so I could really surprise you."

"That would only work if I was doing slides," he says, gathering each organized stack and collecting them into his briefcase. "If you'd like, I can make some notations on your syllabus so you know when those are coming up."

"I'm sorry, Professor," I say, shrugging in faux-innocence. "I think I forgot my syllabus!"

"Well..." He looks down into his bag and runs his fingers through the paper. "Why don't you come on down here and get another one."

I skip down the steps of the theater-style lecture hall, and Calvin stares hard when my short skirt pops up enough to show that I'm not wearing any underwear. It's hard to hide the grin and stay in character.

"Hmm," he says, staring down at the paper with a highlighter in his hands. "The only ones I have left this semester are on Tuesdays..." Tuesdays are nights I spend with Susan. "I may have to restructure this a little..."

"You don't have to do that," I say, sliding up next to him and dropping my voice. "Seriously. I don't mind just—"

He turns and looks down at me, smiling in amusement, and everything else falls away.

"Okay."

Calvin looks back down at his syllabus, and I can feel my skin glowing. It's a wonderful feeling to be important to someone else. To know that they can and will make changes in their life for you. I would never expect it from him, or Susan, but for them to do it anyway feels amazing. But then, I know I've rescheduled quite a few things myself.

That felt nice too, making changes for them. It felt good to give and know, in my bones, that I would receive in return. Which is really what relationships are all about. Making space for other people.

He looks at me again, and the butterflies start fluttering in my middle. Hundreds of thousands of them.

"Oh whoa," I say, glancing down. The lecturer's desk at the front of the class has a leg space in between two sets of drawers, and it's shockingly spacious. "I could totally fit down there!"

"You... could," Calvin says, blushing as he smiles, and before he can do much more than that, I scurry underneath his desk.

"Wooow." I spin around and settle on my knees, enjoying the sheltered feel. The wall at my back, toward where all the students would normally sit, is completely covered. "I could seriously give you a blowjob from down here, and nobody would know I was here!"

Calvin just bites his lip and blushes, and every third or fourth second looks away to check the doors.

"I always thought this was one of those things that didn't really exist," I say, wiggling my hips. "Like at weddings, how nobody ever really says 'If any of you has reasons why these two shall not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.' "

"Why wouldn't there be a space for my legs?" he chuckles. "I have a stool."

"I don't know! I just thought they built these things without this back wall here," I say, slapping the board behind me gently with my palm, "to, I don't know, encourage a little transparency?"

"Well obviously they built this one with you in mind."

"How thoughtf—"

Suddenly, Calvin steps forward a half second before the squeak of hinges echoes through the large room. Chills. Powerful chills. The desktop comes against his waist, just above his belt, and for a moment, there's nothing but fear.

"Um... Professor?"

"Yes... ahhh... Angelica?"

"I um..."

I don't recognize her voice. If it's one of the girls from the class that just let out, it isn't one that asked any questions. I've never felt so bold as I do when I reach up for Calvin's zipper. His legs twitch and stiffen as I start pulling down as slowly as I can manage, with one hand cupped around the zipper to try and muffle the sound even more. I have no idea if that's actually helping, but it feels like it might.

"I've never actually read any Henningway. Are we going to be spending a lot of time on him?"

"Well, not a lot, per se, but he's a personal favorite of mine. I think he does a lot of interesting things with structure and narrative. Some of his short stories are really... um..."

I use both hands, as I pull his cock out, to keep the rapidly-thickening shaft away from the teeth of his zipper, and lay the cockhead on my tongue. The heady taste is like ambrosia, and it fills me with a kind of serendipitous joy. I have to tilt my head to the side to get much more than that in my mouth, but a little contorting is a small price to pay for the experience of hearing Calvin's voice break. The girl's heels thud dully against the carpeted steps, but each one is one step closer as she continues approaching the desk and my enthusiasm skyrockets as the threat of being caught increases.

"Do you think you could recommend one for me?" The inflection, the upticks in her voice; she's hitting on him. "I hear people talk about him, and I don't feel like I know enough about him. I just don't know where to start."

"Tell you what," Calvin says. He leans forward onto the desk and crosses his arms at the edge, all of which pushes his hips back ever so slightly. The closer I get, as I take more of him into my mouth, the more I'm exposed from the sides. The threat of exposure is so invigorating as to be nearly overwhelming. It's so distracting that I almost forget to spend any thought on using my tongue the way he likes.

Almost, but not quite. Calvin likes being deepthroated, and really likes watching his whole shaft being swallowed, but on pure sensation nothing beats running my tongue around his head with gentle suction. Teasing the underside, where the swollen head comes around but doesn't quite meet back up. Using the texture of the roof of my mouth, and my tastebuds, to my advantage.

Calvin clears his throat and laughs. "Why don't you try 'A Clean, Well Lighted Place.' It's not too long. It can be a little dense, but it's pretty interesting. He does some, uh... some... some neat things with the voices of his main characters."

The hitch in his voice is so thoroughly fulfilling that I have my right hand wrapped around my own cock without realizing it. My body reacts so instinctively to Calvin, and while that can be incredibly scary at times, he's yet to abuse or misuse that trust. It's part of why I feel so safe with him.

"... well... lighted... Lighted?"

"Yes," Calvin says. "Well-hyphen-Lighted. Place."

"A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. Got it."

"I think you can find it online for free, and I'm sure the library has it in one or two anthologies of his work Let me know how you like it! I'd love to know what you think about the waiters."

"Okay!" she says, with the sound of her voice shifted in that way that betrays the smile on her lips as she says it. "I will!"

"See you next Tuesday," Calvin says, to the retreating beat of feet in heels.

"Thanks Professor!"

I take the squeaking hinges as a sign and lean into it, driving my nose into the fly of his pants and his cock into the recesses of my mouth. Taking him as deeply and completely as I can. It's incredible to feel how that puts a quiver in his legs. For a moment, I know that feeling of power Susan talked about. The strength that comes with making Calvin cum and cum hard.

But then his palm comes down on the back of my head, and that goes away completely. I try to look up at him, through my twitching, fluttering eyelids, and Calvin smiles.

"Why don't we go back to my office?"

"Mmmm-hmm!"

He shifts his hips forward, pushing his head into the back of my throat one more time, before gripping my hair and keeping me in place while he draws back. Precum on my tongue. Even when he lets go of my head he leaves his hand out in offer to help me up from my knees, and I blush profusely.

"Such a gentleman!"

"Not for much longer," he says, lowering his voice needlessly; the room is still empty. He keeps hold of my hand, and scoops up his briefcase with the other as he leads me toward the door. I follow right behind him, trying hard not to bounce with each step. By the time we get out into the hall, we're more presentable. I move to walk beside him, no longer holding his hand, as he threads through the students lingering here and there. I know from experience how quickly he usually takes stairs, two at a time, and it's a wonderful feeling when he slows down to take them only as quickly as I do. Which isn't particularly fast. Heeled boots are perfect for a multitude of situations, but stairs aren't exactly one of them.

Thankfully there are no students waiting outside his office, and Calvin quickly steps in and to the side to shut the door as soon as I follow him in. He points behind his desk as he sets down his briefcase, and my heart skips a beat as I catch him unfastening his belt.

"Oh Daddy," I murmur, as I lean forward to rest my elbows on an empty space amid the clutter.

He just smiles and offers it to me. "You might want something to bite down on," he says softly. "The walls aren't too thick in here." I swoon as I take his belt and place it between my teeth.

Calvin wastes no time flipping my skirt up over my back, exposing my ass. I cross my legs at the ankle and roll my hips, and giggle at the look in his eyes as he stares down at me; he wants to devour me, and I want so badly to be devoured.

He tips a pink-and-purple bottle upside down and I gasp as a few drops of cool, thick lube pours down between my cheeks. Sliding quickly between my pale orbs until Calvin's thick index finger presses in to catch and redirect it. I groan softly, biting down hard on the leather belt, as his finger breaks through. Spreading the lube and stretching me. I look back at him, neck craned sharply, and grab at my left cheek to spread myself for him.

"Oh wow," he groans, eyes bulging.

The sight of his cock, hanging out through his pants, is incredible, but it is nothing compared to the feel of his cock, hanging out through his pants, as it pushes against my well-prepared asshole. It's gentle but unyielding, and his head is significantly thicker than his finger. My eyes roll up and I groan again, louder, at the feel of his cockhead sliding through the inner ring. The swollen, mushroomed tip. Inside of me.