Promise

The following story has its background based in Ecuador cities and its culture, in Quito, so it might not appear familiar to Anglo Saxon life style. All the characters are over 18 and all plots are fictitious. Likeness with reality is coincidental.

Thanks in advance for the time you take in order to read my story.

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One month has passed by since they got to know each other. The midterm semester vacations in March interrupted a vow they made. That sex encounter was an inflection point. They melt in one body, like the snow before the morning sun. They were going to rendezvous the following week. But an unforeseen teacher's trip disrupted the plan.

The student, miss Emma Solano, faced a radical change of life. That torrid sex session, one month ago, was for Solano, an interstellar blast. In fact, her soul is still a wandering nebula. She feels as if she were a pile of obsessions erected with the hardest stones. Miss Solano dreams, day and night, about her teacher. A sort of Greek nymph, who stole her soul one luxurious distant night. Her teacher is going to lecture on a new major: financial management.

Miss Solano takes, this upcoming period, all her subjects at night. She wants to enjoy dark skies full of quivering stars. Or delights looking at crying clouds. Or leering at her teacher's big butt, dancing from left to right in the classroom. She wants to enjoy that special instructor after classes, because she is a genuine woman. Someone who will shake her like a quake. The outcome will be a sexual cataclysm. An explosion in all those sticky cells that form Emma's vulva.

From that night they met, Miss Solano lives horny. She feels, again and again, her teacher's unforgettable caresses. They have driven her baffling these last thirty days. Solano never thought that one night, she would rest in her teacher's warm arms. She didn't imagine herself daydreaming about her teacher's body. From that day, afternoons became endless.

Studying at nights makes it easier for Solano to go out with her prof. They may have dinner, get drink, and get laid. Their shrieks, orgasms have to resound in the entire city and in the entire universe.

In a few minutes, while they make love, Miss Solano will ask her prof for something sensitive. A new yearning gnaws her mind, turning every second into an abominable eternity.

A hurry of heels echoes far in the hall. Yes, they are hers. They sounded strong in the corridor as if they were a cloudburst of little stones hitting the floor.

At noon, some classrooms of the faculty stay abandoned. Seldom, a few spirits stand and suffer in those university whereabouts. Secretaries work in their offices. Students and professors have their lunch. Or some black sheep drink beer at the nearest caverns.

Solano's curiosity killed herself. She opened the classroom door to glance in the corridor. It's her professor. She's already come. Miss Solano didn't close the door altogether. The idea is to help her instructor step into the classroom. The young student has been waiting for an hour. Even though the woman has to tutor Financial Management, it doesn't matter. Miss Solano asks help from heaven. She wants her teacher lectures also math, quality systems, or any other major; and sex.

The prof had already seen Miss Solano and the classroom where she has been waiting for her. While walking, the professor felt her heart trying to leave her chest. It seemed it had already fallen down on the floor. The instructor's feet drove her shameless, presumptuous. Her arousal felt like a big dam. All the water was ready to irrigate her mountains, valleys and forests.

The professor wants Miss Solano to make her tremble. The woman needs to shake defenseless like a flower before the wind. Emma's teacher also remembers that night in which they were molten rock. From that night, they are two twin colliding stars.

They challenged each other to make love somewhere in the faculty. Profaning the university building seduced both women. These thoughts made the instructor's heels hurry with anxiety. In fact, now she is almost running to see her juvenile lover.

Both women, the young and her prof, at last, can taste their sex flavors again. One month, three days, and eight hours of a sour delay, is a simple mist blown by the wind. Both ladies will be one soul again in the following next minutes.

Solano noticed her woman's heels made a halt. The university instructor opens the door. When closing it, she locks themselves in.

The woman didn't let Solano say any word and also got close to the little window door to watch the corridor. There weren't even ghosts out there, and if there were, they might see, but in deep silence. The prof also watched the faculty backyard through the classroom windows. She asked Miss Solano to close them. The woman, with a permanent watching attitude, said, "Five minutes, kid. I have a commitment along the university council in half an hour."

Bewildered, Solano didn't know what to do. The professor opened up her jeans, revealing a dark little forest and her adjacent mound. Solano took a long time to react. Her white converse shrieked while they tramp on the classroom floor tiles. The young gal sat in front of her teacher on the floor. The woman carried on, watching through the classroom door window.

When I tasted her vagina with my tongue, she made a big effort with her hips, making her clitoris sprout. She swayed her rounded butt to compel my mouth and her clit to make love as fast as possible. Now I understand why her thighs are athletic and very well-shaped. Her muscles were rigid. From time to time, she stopped watching through the door window to see me when I licked her. As a reward, I let her see my tits folding my t-shirt around my chest.

I did my best to lick her pink bottom. My chin was steady. I pressed with my tongue. The professor shook her labia in my mouth in circles. It was like the Milky Way does around that inscrutable endless black hole. This way, we both had controlled her clitoris.

The prof glimpsed again through the door little window. "Hurry... Solano," she said with a choking, moaning voice. Immediately, I stopped. Yes, I stopped sucking. She tried to press my head on her black hairy jungle, but I resisted. "And what if my jaws' plan is to grasp your labia forever?" I answered, leering at her seductive, fleshy forms. But I resumed my task of licking her, this time with amok licks. My master saw her watch. "One minute and a half, sweetheart. Those bitches want my head in a bowl," she insisted, disturbed. I bobbed my tongue up and down, straight to those opened petals; and from them toward her hairy black rain forest.

I pulled down her jeans, but I grasped them with my arm. Otherwise, it would have fallen on the floor. My arms felt her smooth skin, and her hips shook with savage movements. Each second, her knoll swayed, more and more frantic, until her butt relaxed. A sort of concoction flowed down my chin and neck as a creamy, viscous wild river. My prof choked on her moans, shutting her mouth with her right hand. The quietness and silence had to linger. They had to continue fooling around pompous on that Management Sciences faculty floor.

The instructor got out a little pocket of damp tissues from her purse. She wiped her flower and her little forest. Miss Solano looked for any stain incriminating perversion on her instructor jeans. But they were clean, because Miss Solano's t-shirt faced part of the flood. The woman gave Miss Solano a damp tissue as well. Emma stared at her professor's eyes, requesting for her turn. The one the woman offered to carry it out on the lecturer's table, or on the students' seats. But the teacher didn't pay attention to Solano. The woman looked for the actual time on her watch. She also pulled her jeans up. The woman opened the door, leaving the classroom. The celerity was the same with which she appeared ten minutes before.

I tried to wipe my neck, my breasts, and some of my t-shirt with the damp tissue she gave me. But my mind was a whirlpool, so as my acts. I wasn't brave enough to ask her if I may live in her apartment. I couldn't. Instead, with my cellphone, I checked out my face to see if her fluids looked outrageous, perilous, but they didn't.

I felt like spilled water on the tile, or like a high tide gnawing a rocky shore. I was a wave and its foam soaking the sand. If I didn't see her later that night, at least I had her flavors moored to my palate and her aromas filling my breath.