Sister Monica Ch. 05

This time around, he found the perfect items. A black garter belt and matching stockings, to go along with a pair of black high-heeled pumps. . . .

♣

He met her at her office at five thirty. None of the other English profs were around—Carroll Hall was like a ghost town. But . . . he didn't want to spend the evening in her office. Not this time.

When he arrived, she was standing just inside her door, her hair unpinned, the two top buttons of her blouse unfastened. He closed and locked the door behind him, and a moment later, they were all over each other, kissing, caressing, their bodies rubbing together through their clothing.

But he didn't want to get carried away . . . not yet.

He pulled away, and she looked at him, questions in her eyes.

"Don't worry, sexy," he said. "We're gonna have a blast tonight. Just not in here."

"What?"

He had a store bag with him. He gave it to her. "Look what's inside, baby," he said.

She pulled out the garter, stockings, and pumps, raised her eyebrows. "Wow," she said, with a giggle. He couldn't help but smile. A month ago, she would have balked at such a gift. Now, she welcomed receiving sexy lingerie and kinky accessories. Slowly but surely, she was growing into her newfound sexuality.

"Something tells me you haven't ever worn a garter before," he said.

"Or stockings, even," she said. "I have worn high heels though. Do I get extra credit?"

"I'll show you extra credit." And before he knew it, his tongue was in her mouth, his hands were massaging her naked back as he reached under her shirt, his erect penis was grinding against her, through his jeans. Yeah, right. Don't get carried away. Who was he fooling? When he was alone with his beautiful teacher, how in the world could he not let himself get carried away?

He unbuttoned her blouse, then slid it off of her. She was wearing a skimpy navy blue bra he had bought for her just last week. "Nice," he said. "Were you wearing that sexy bra in class this morning?"

"Yes," she said, her voice husky, full of desire.

"Nice," he repeated, and kissed her breasts. He reached underneath the bra, cupped her tits in his hands, squeezed. She moaned, and he squeezed harder.

Not getting carried away was now a distant memory. Besides, he wanted her to put on her new gifts. She couldn't do that with her pants on.

He unzipped her slacks, pulled them down her legs. She was wearing the black G-string. He licked his lips at the sight of it. "And I take it you wore that to class today, too?"

"Yes," she said. "I did."

"You kinky sexpot," he said. "You loved wearing your sexy lingerie to class, didn't you?"

"Yes," she repeated. "It turned me on."

He clamped his teeth onto the G-string, pulled it all the way down her legs with his mouth. Then he attacked her clitoris, rubbing it, in a small circular motion, with his thumb. He kissed her there, too, and licked up and down her smooth, hairless mound.

"Oh God," she said. He wanted her in the garter belt and stockings, but he figured he'd bring her to orgasm first. He continued his oral assault on her clit, inserting his tongue, then pulling it out. In and out, in and out. Making love to her with his tongue. Meanwhile, he reached around and squeezed her ass cheeks, hard.

"Ohhh," she moaned, and her legs wobbled. He drew his hand back, then brought it forward. Smack! A solid blow to her left butt cheek. Then another, then another, and yet another, each slap harder than the last. All the while, his tongue probed deeper, deeper inside of her.

Finally, she shrieked, and her juices squirted into his mouth, saturating his tongue and lips. He felt her nearly fall over. She had to place her hands on his shoulders to balance herself.

He stood up, licking his lips, loving the taste of her. Then he kissed her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, allowing her to taste her own musky juices. Apparently she couldn't get enough, as she engaged him in a tongue-dance, a French ballet, her moans filling his mouth.

When he broke the kiss, she said, "Josh, make love to me. Now. I want you so much." Again, he smiled. She was able to express herself sexually now without much shyness. She may not even have been aware of these changes in her, but he was.

"Soon, sexy, soon," he said. "But first, I want you to put these on."

He handed her the garter and stockings. She looked at them, puzzled, panting, then put them on quickly—evidently hoping that the sooner she did, the sooner his penis would be throbbing inside of her. He loved her desire, her arousal. She was so turned on, he could smell it, feel it, right here in the room. It was a tangible thing, made manifest by the depth and strength of her need.

He couldn't help but stare. She looked great. The black garter and stockings contrasted beautifully with the lily fairness of her skin, and without panties on, her vagina was still visible—it was an incredibly erotic sight.

"I hate to have you cover yourself up, sexy," he said. "But it's only temporary."

He bent down to put her slacks back on.

"What . . .?"

He smiled up at her. She lifted her feet off the ground, allowing him to dress her. "We're going out," he said.

"Oh." She gave him an "are-you-serious?" expression. Here she was, wanting to make love, to scream in orgasm, and he was taking her out?? Couldn't it at least wait another few minutes?

"To my dorm room."

He gave her back her blouse, and she put it on. She still seemed in a daze. The sexual energy, the release, must have still been coursing through her, not enabling her to think straight.

"Where?" she said.

"My dorm room. It'll be a breeze," he said. "Mike's the floor monitor tonight. He always cuts me some slack. He won't give us any trouble. And Steve—my roommate—he's out tonight, at some party. He won't be back till after midnight."

"But . . ."

"Trust me, beautiful," he said. "It'll be great."

Before she could protest further, he took her by the hand, led her out of her office, and proceeded to walk her across campus to his dorm. He took her on a roundabout course, being sure to avoid any passersby.

When they got there, he told her to just look natural, at ease. Not to worry. Mike wouldn't know who she was. And his room was the second on the left. They wouldn't need to pass anyone along the way. There would be no trouble, no risk of her being recognized.

He sweet-talked Mike, and it went off without a hitch, just as he'd predicted. He had her in his dorm room a moment later.

"Well . . .what do you think, baby?" he said. "It ain't the Marriott, huh?"

She looked around the room, as if gazing at a foreign spectacle. Piles of clothes were heaped on the floor, neither of the beds were made, a half-eaten salami sandwich lay on a paper plate next to the PC.

"It's . . . nice," she said.

He laughed. "It sucks," he said. "And you know it."

"Are you sure it's safe for me to be in here?" she said. "There must be students of mine on this floor. What if they come in?"

"Door's locked, sexy, don't worry."

"And are you sure that person you talked to didn't recognize me?"

"Who, Mike? Nah. He's probably high anyway. He'd forget in the morning, even if he did. But no—for all he knew, you're just some sexy babe I met out somewhere. Don't worry, Sister Monica. It's all good."

He took off his shirt and jeans, sat down on his bed, wearing only his briefs.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked her. And he suddenly realized. This was the first time they'd be together in a bed. They had made love in the school library, over her office desk, on her floor, on her chair, in his car, in the shower. But never in a simple bed. Just that thought alone send a jolt of energy through his dick.

She stood there, still gawking at the room. She was clearly nervous.

He got off the bed, went to her, kissed her. "It's okay, baby," he said. "Just relax." He kissed her again, and she began to melt, kissing him back. He ran his fingers through her lustrous red hair, massaged her shoulders through the cotton of her blouse.

"You relaxed?" he asked a moment later.

She smiled. "Getting there."

He took her by the hand, led her to the bed. He wasted little time, taking off her blouse and pants. Now she stood there, in her sexy lace bra, garter belt (with no panties) and stockings. To complete the look, he took the pumps out of the shopping bag, got on his knees, and put them on her.

"You look so freaking hot," he said.

She smiled, tossed her hair back with a flick of her head, and stumbled. "It's been a while since I've worn heels," she said. "I'm out of practice."

"Well, you're not out of practice with other things, are you?" he said with a grin, and he slid his briefs down his legs. His dick was standing at full attention, pointing up at the ceiling.

He got on the bed, lay on his back, put his hands behind his head, and just enjoyed the sensations of Sister Monica taking him in her mouth. She had by this time perfected the art of oral sex, as well she should have—she'd sucked him probably a hundred times in just the last month. Over that time, she had become a master, sliding her mouth up and down his shaft just so, using her tongue in a tantalizing, teasing manner, and even deep-throating him when the mood struck her.

"Ahh," he said. "That is awesome, sexy Monica."

She looked up at him, her mouth still working wonders with his penis. She cupped his hairless balls with her hand, gently giving them a massage. This sent him close to the edge. She sensed this and picked up the pace. Less than a minute later, he shot his load, squirting stream after stream in her mouth. She eagerly swallowed all of it, and then cleaned the straggling cum from his tip.

She took him in her mouth again, and got him hard once more. He loved the way she always did that. She was so turned on, so ready to have his dick deep inside of her.

He sat up, and they kissed. As their tongues wrestled, he felt her hand grab his penis and caress it—up and down the shaft.

"Careful, sexy," he said. "You'll make me squirt again."

She responded with a moan, but she did take her hand away. Glancing behind her, he saw her high-heeled feet hanging off the edge of the bed, and the sight of the heels on her nearly sent him over the top again. He had to have her. Now. "Lie down on your back, kinky girl," he instructed, and she eagerly did as she was told. God, she looked good. Her pussy lips glistened with moisture, exposed beneath the thin band of her garter belt. He felt a jolt surge through his loins. Easy now. Easy.

There was one last surprise for their evening. A bandana he wore when he went out jogging—he would roll it up into a band and tie it behind his head. That's what he did now—moving as fast as he could, he fished it out of his drawer, rolled it into a headband, then approached the bed again.

"Turn over on your stomach for a sec, okay?"

She did, without hesitation. He again glanced at her pumps, the black, pointed heel protruding five inches from the surface of the shoe. It was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen—Sister Monica decked out in garter, stockings, and heels.

"Put your arms behind your back," he said. Again, she did as told. And he tied her arms at the wrists, knotting the bandana tight—but not too tight. Just snug enough to hold her arms in place without causing pain. "Now turn back over, sexy."

On her back again, she smiled at him. "So you want me all tied up, hmm?" She was oozing sex. It seeped out of her pores, permeated the air in the room.

He climbed on top of her, kissed her. He wasted no time. He slid inside of her, going slow, slow, until he was in all the way to the hilt. "Mmmmmm," she said, and squirmed at the hips.

He pulled out of her. "What do you want me to do, Sister Monica?" he said. He didn't always coax her into talking dirty, but every now and then he did. It turned him on to hear her use words she never would have before she met him. And it turned her on, too. She had admitted as much.

"I want you to make love to me," she said. But she had a dubious look in her eyes. That wasn't what he wanted to hear, and she knew it.

He reached forward, squeezed her breasts, still hugged tightly by the blue lace bra.

"You can do better than that, baby," he said, and thrust his penis into her an inch, left it there a second, then pulled it out again. He repeated the motion, and she thrashed her hips wildly.

"What is it you want, Sister Monica?" he said. He reached under her bra, pinched her nipple. She moaned, threw her head back against the pillow, her arms pinned and bound beneath her.

In—one inch—then out again. In. Out. And he pinched her nipple again.

"Ohhhh, I want you to fuck me," she said. "Fuck me, Josh!"

"You want my dick in your wet pussy, Sister Monica?" He thrust in two inches, then pulled out. She squirmed, thrashed, bit her lip, and nodded. "Say it."

"Please . . ."

"Tell me what you want, baby."

She was panting, her breath choppy. "I want you to stick your big dick into my wet pussy!" she said. He smiled. She had inserted the word "big" on her own.

Well, no need to keep the lovely lady waiting. He pushed all the way in, rubbed his pelvis against her clitoris, grinding it, trying to send it—and her—into sensory overload, and then pulled out again.

He leaned all the way forward, French-kissed her, and she aggressively kissed him back, and moaned as he slid his nine inches all the way in again.

When he pulled out again, he lifted her legs, positioned them over his shoulders.

"Is that comfortable, beautiful?" he wanted to know. He'd never tried this position with her before.

She nodded. She was beyond words. She just wanted to come.

He rammed his penis deep inside of her, going faster now, working up a sweat. She was gasping and thrusting her hips in rhythm with his movements. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her bangs sticking to it. He glanced at her legs, resting on his shoulders for support, and again noticed her high-heeled pumps—swinging in the air as their bodies shook, linked together in their passion.

"Ohgodohgodohgodohgod," she kept saying as she neared release. The bed shook, and the head board rattled against the wall. "Ohgodohgod, fuck me!" she said.

And he did. He was moving in and out of her like a supercharged piston. Her moans and cries grew ever louder and then she screamed, coming with a thunderous climax. Her body spasmed and jerked, and then went limp.

"Oh my god," she said.

"It gets better all the time, doesn't it?" he said, still making love to her. He had slowed his pace, but hadn't stopped.

"Mmmmm, yes," she purred.

He picked up the pace, and again she began to thrust her hips in rhythm. He wasn't going to pull out until he came, too. And he could now, without worrying. Shortly after Sister Monica had decided to renounce her vows and see Josh regularly, she had gone on the pill.

He leaned forward, took her bra-covered left breast in his mouth, licked and chewed, and heard her sigh with pleasure. Then he sat up straight again and hammered home.

And at some point, maybe five minutes later, as Sister Monica was once again uttering her Lord's name repeatedly in vain, he came. He sent a gushing stream deep into her womb, and then he fell onto his back, lying beside her.

"I love you," he said. "Do you know that?"

She kissed him. "I think I have a pretty good idea," she said with a smile. "But . . . do you love me enough to untie me now?"

Shit. He'd almost forgotten! He undid the knot, and lay back down, beside her, again. They embraced in a sideways lying-down hug, looking into each other's eyes. Then she nestled her head against his shoulder, and inched even closer.

They lay like that for a long time. She even fell asleep for a while, and he watched her. She looked like such an angel, sleeping there beside him. He vowed, then and there, that he would never hurt her, never break her heart. He loved this woman so much, it terrified him. He had no idea what he would do without her. It was crazy—it had all happened so fast. But there was no denying the power of what he felt. No suppressing the truth.

She stirred beside him, opened her eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Sure did. I guess it's understandable, though. You just had quite a workout. And you know, at your age . . ."

"Hey!" But she was laughing. "I'll show you who's old." She grabbed hold of the bandanna, blew some of the bangs out of her eyes (another thing she did that drove him wild), and told him to turn over, onto his stomach.

"What for?" he asked.

"It's your turn now," she said.

He laughed. This was a switch. Most of the time, his sexy professor was very submissive in bed. Oh, she got into it and had the most powerful orgasms he'd ever witnessed. But usually she was content to let him take control, set the tone. But her wanting to tie him up? His penis began to stiffen. He loved it, just loved it. She had so much innate kinkiness to her. He wanted to help her release all of it, as time went on. This was another step in that direction.

He did as told, letting her take charge. She tied his arms behind his back, at the wrist—and she tied it pretty tight, too.

"Hey, easy now, sexy," he said.

She giggled, had him lie on his back. Then she took his penis in her mouth, licking him, sucking him, getting him good and hard.

"Now," she said, a twinkle in her eye, "what do you want, Josh?"

"I want you to fuck me, Sister Monica," he said. "Ride me like a prize-winning cowgirl. Swivel those sexy hips of yours and throw your head back and toss your hair back and make yourself come on my cock."

She smiled. "Okay!" And she climbed on top of him, sliding herself onto his dick. "Oooh," she said when she sank all the way down. "God, that feels good."

Suddenly there were footsteps outside the door, and she tensed up.

"It's okay, baby," he said. "Remember, door's locked."

She nodded, breathed a sigh of relief, and Josh silently cursed dorm life. No damn privacy. It was all just one big mood-breaker. He looked forward to Sister Monica getting her own apartment next month. Then he could spend some nights over there without any worry of being interrupted.

She began to ride him. He wanted so much to reach up and grab those perfect tits of hers, but of course he couldn't. Well, he probably could get out of her knot, but he didn't want to ruin it for her. This was her moment to shine, her chance to be in control. He wanted her to have that.

She leaned in close to him, almost lying down on top of him, and kissed him. Then she flicked her tongue out, licking his lips, his nose, his eyebrows, his entire face. He was in heaven. She was being unleashed!

Slowly she worked down his body, licking his chin, his neck, then his nipples. She took his right nipple into her mouth and chewed on it.

"Damn," he said, and he felt his erection stiffen a little more, if that were possible, inside of her.

She looked up at him, smiled, then took his nipple in her mouth again. She bit down, hard, hard enough to cause a bit of pain. He clenched his body.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Did that hurt?"

He shook his head. He didn't want to discourage her in any way.

She took his nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched. A breath escaped him. All the while she continued to ride him, slowly, sensually. She leaned in close again and they kissed. For five minutes, ten, their tongues entwined as she had her way with him. She moaned in his mouth and he moaned in hers. No woman had ever taken control of him like this. This was new territory for both of them.

She sat up, but only partway, bracing her weight on her forearms. She moved in and out of him at an angle, making sure his penis was coming in full contact with her clit. Her breathing began to degenerate, as she rode the wave toward climax.