Something about a Big Desk

Garret Homestead, seven year professor of modern poetry, was a young thirty-three, with understated rimless glasses, and plaid flannel shirts. He always had tea before class and always wore his shoulder-length hair down, constantly flipping it back in class with this fingers as he lectured about syntax and alliteration. His light beard suited him well, working naturally with his smile. Most of his students loved his class, and those who don't dropped out immediately. Professor G-Man, as some if his students playfully named him, was calm and collected, but still passionate. When he read, he read from deep within. And he reached a core with his audience, even if they were just a bunch of college kids. They were moved. And they read some goddamn poetry. Because as fun as the class was, Homestead still didn't fuck around.

But his students didn't mind. They had to study of course, but they were so involved, they knew it back and forth. However, not one of his students had ever been so enamored with the class that they came for every single elective class he taught. Except for Reilly Athamek.

Reilly had a brilliant mind, filled with imagination and a gift for description. She could give you the history of a teacup in a sonnet, and the love of a flower from the view of a bee. A magnificent student and human being, she and Garret had many long conversations over Reilly's four year college career.

And today was her last day as his student. The exam was over, and of course she was the first to turn hers in. With a perky little smile as she waved and sashayed out the door.

Forty-five minutes later, once he called pens down, and asked everyone to give up their exams, he started to pack up for the day, turning out the light for the classroom, and heading to his office. That was when Reilly showed up, still as grinning as she always was. Always so vivacious.

"Hey, I hope you didn't breeze too quickly through it."

She laughed a little. "I didn't I promise. I hope you like the free write. Nice touch by the way. Letting us do our thing. I think it stumped a few others as some weird reverse psychology thing."

This time, he laughed. "Well I look forward to reading it. You have an interesting way of pouring out your mind."

"Well, you're my last exam for the year, and I'm really curious to figure out my average, so if you can give me a call as soon as you're finished grading, I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure. I'll do that."

"Thanks, Professor."

"You can call me Garret now. I'm not your teacher anymore." he said with a grin.

"Garret." was all she said as she walked away. Why did I say that? he thought. Shaking his head, he walked the flight of stairs to his fairly spacious office.

Thankfully the soundproof door and walls kept him from jabbing a letter opener in his eye when the cleaning crew came to buff the floor. He hated that sound.

After almost two hours, he finally got to the last question of his last paper. Reilly's free write poem.

Double, double Lust and trouble Loins burn and Passion bubbles

Something wicked this way comes.

He stared at the page for a while. Oh, what to do now. He could call her, and let her down easily, tell her it wouldn't work out. Or he could just do it. She was more than an adult, and they were more than student and teacher. They had become friends. He'd known other professors to go after even freshman students. But he just didn't think of himself as the type of guy to do it.

A small voice in his mind said, She's technically not your student. And she's not like the other students. She's special. She's special to me.

He found that he couldn't grade her final free write poem. Not without talking to her about it first. Until it was graded she was still his student. So he was going to treat her like one.

He called her and asked her to meet him in his office. She'd fixed her hair, done her make-up, and changed into a revealing black loose-knit sweater and a short miniskirt. The slit on the side showed that she was wearing thigh high stockings. His body couldn't help but react. And she reveled in it. She drank his barely restrained control all in.

"You wanted to talk to me about my poem?" she asked, twirling her hair, girlishly.

"Close the fucking door, Reilly." She looked a little hurt as she sheepishly shut the heavy door behind her.

He held up the last page of her exam. "What the fuck is this? This is completely inappropriate. I mean I know that we are friends, but as your teacher I cannot condone this at all, ever. Not to mention it's not even you're fucking poem!"

She looked him straight in the eyes. "I was following your instructions."

"What the fuck? What are you talking about?"

"You said that for the free write to think about what was really driving us. What is it that we constantly think about? Remember? What is it that we eat, drink, and breathe? I am always thinking about sex." she said looking down. Then glanced back to say terrified, "Always thinking about it with you."

Garret just stared back at her, breathing deeply, trying to process everything. And the growing urge to give in to her, to just get it done with and out of his system was looking more and more like a good option. But she's still my student. Shit.

"Reilly-"

"Look, I know, I'm your student. And even though I'm technically not after this last exam, you wouldn't feel right about it. That's part of what gets me so worked up about you. Your respect, for everyone you've ever met. It just... it makes me want to jump you mid-lecture."

He tried to speak but, no sound was coming out. She was right, everything she said was absolutely right. She had said everything for him. She knew him so well.

All of a sudden his mind started a civil war with itself. Half of him was screaming to fuck her against the door right there. No one would hear, the janitor is listening to latin rap, and if I need I can cover her mouth, he thought, a little naughtily. His other half was screaming just as loudly, Uh-uh, big professional no-no, and four years as friends or not, you cannot trust this girl with your career. Bad, bad idea. Just bad.

Reilly just stared at him, looking like she might cry at any moment. Maybe from sadness, maybe from embarrassment, maybe both. He had to make a decision before she ran out the door. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall into a depression over her poetry professor. He stepped right in front of her, still indecisive as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist and neck.

He looked down at the ground and shakily exhaled as he said, "What the hell am I about to do?"

She ran her fingers into his hair, prompting him to look at her, eye to eye, the silence nearly tangible as they both struggled to speak. He gasped slightly as her fingertip ran over the nape of his neck.

"You're about to fuck your student." she said calmly before kissing his lips gently. Then she reached down to her hemline. "In your office." She pulled on his tie as she moved backwards. "On your big, hard, wide... desk." Upon the last word, Reilly hopped up onto his dark mahogany desk, and wrapped her shapely legs around his, running her stockinged feet over his pressed slacks. She put her wet, sweet smelling black thong in his hand. He looked at it in his hand, dropped it on the ground, and with one hand unbuttoned his jeans, freeing his erect member. He picked Reilly up and gently pushed her against the door, lifted her knees to around his back, entering into her with one fluid motion, making her nearly scream as he got his grip around her thighs.

"Oh my God, where did you learn to fucking do that?"

"Practice." He said with a smile and a few quick thrusts, causing her to squeal. "Mmm. Oh, Reilly. I don't know why but something about you is just irresistible."

"Oh! Ooh!" she cried as he fucked her against the heavy wooden door. "What does that mean?" she asked with a sexy smile when he gave her a chance to breathe.

"It means," he said, fucking slowly, making her emit small moans with each motion, "that over the course of our acquaintance, you have never been too far from my mind, and I know I really want to fuck you too." He really dug deep into her when he said 'fuck'.

"I don't care if you took my classes all over again. I will never regret this. Even if I lose my job. You are so fucking worth it." This made her really beam.

"You will never have to worry about me. My lips will be too busy being wrapped around your cock. If you'll have me after today."

He chuckled as he kept pounding into her, making her breasts jiggle under her shirt. "I think I'll have you several times. Hopefully a few of them later today. If you'll have me again." He stopped, let her onto the floor, and started unzipping her miniskirt, revealing her bare sex, the black lace from her stockings just below her hairless pussy. And that peach-shaped ass was a thing of absolute beauty. He loved every curve of her, and as she unbuttoned her sweater, and slowly slid it off of her arms, revealing her bare breasts falling to their natural place. He was taking off his shirt, and he noticed Reilly leaning against his mahogany desk again, starting to roll off her luscious stockings. He got on his knees in front of her and stopped her hand where it was.

"Nope. These stay on." He roll the stocking back up and slowly moved his finger lightly, up between her legs, playing with her pussy lips like feathers. He licked at her a few times, just to tease her a little, making her moan. After a few minutes, she groaned almost exasperatedly.

"Are you going to fuck me again or what?"

He stopped what he was doing. "Oh I'm so sorry. Isn't somebody impatient?"

"I'm sorry, but every time I come in here, whenever you talk to me about a paper or a poem or a book, all I can think of while I listen to your voice is you bending me over this desk," at this she spread out over all of his mess of papers. "And whispering in my ear while you fuck me."

"Oh really?" he asked, slowly walking towards the desk, Reilly standing up straight in front of him. Garret's penis was still at attention, as were Reilly's nipples. He put his hands on her waist, and leaned in for a soft, sweet kiss on her parted lips, slowly, gently slipping in his tongue. Once the kiss was over, he flipped her around and bent her on his desk, pushing himself back into her with ease, and a long satisfied moaning sigh."Oh that never gets old. Oh fuck yes."

He started to rock his hips back and forth getting a good rhythm and constantly changing angle of entrance into her, making her buck wildly against his cock, making it that much better for the both of them. He grabbed hold of her long dark hair and held her upper body down against the desk top. His other hand went to her ass, which he softly caressed and grasped at the curve. "Mmmm. That is a fine firm ass you got, Reilly." he said in a husky voice, right before giving her ass cheek a nice audible slap, that he was confident absolutely no one could hear on the outside.

He fucked her harder as she moaned with each consecutive slap. "Mmm, yeah, you really like that, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Oh! Oh! Uh! Uhh! Oooh!! Oh fuck my pussy harder, Garret." Oh she wants it harder. Okay then.

He grabbed her hip, still holding her by the neck with his other hand. He started slowly, softly, gentle, like it was her first time, like he didn't want to hurt her. And then he slowly starts upping his pace, making faster strokes, harder thrusts, and really slamming his dick into her like a jackhammer. And she kept moaning louder and louder until while he was still pumping and not ready to quit, she was no longer moaning but screaming, pretty loudly, even through his cupped hand. By the time, her rolling orgasm was over, she was buckling at the knees like a newborn giraffe. He flipped her over and laid her on top of all of his papers, slipping into her again, raising his right knee onto the desk under her left thigh. Rock hard and in desperate need of release, he kept pumping into her, changing tempo, rhythm, and technique every couple of minutes, he could feel the surge in his pelvis. He pulled out of her and said, "Get on your knees." which she instantly obeyed, despite obvious exhaustion from rough sex. Without prompt, she pumped his thick member into her mouth, her wet tongue flicking over the head of his cock, licking softly all over the shaft, he was cumming within a few minutes. She swallowed his load and sat there on his office carpet, recuperating.

As they got dressed, they looked at each other, both knowing the other wanted more. But there was always the requisite post-graduation celebration.

"So what about my poem?" asked Reilly.

"I think it will do. You got a B plus. Congratulations graduate."

"B Plus? I hope that was just for the exam."

"Oh trust me, it was."