The English Student

I was teaching English at the community college a couple years back, just an evening class that included an odd mix of students.

I had any number of older students going back to school, even a few middle-age women, empty nesters with time on their hands. There were a few young adults, taking classes they never took in college to start with, some needing degrees, some needing help in communication skills and some just bored with nothing else to do.

And then there were the regular students, most going for associate degrees or a head start before going off to a bigger university. Alex was in that group, a young teenager still in high school but taking college-level courses before going to State in the fall.

She was different than the rest, an A student all her life, an over-achiever who played sports, sang in the church choir and was a cheerleader from the time she was old enough to jump.

Alex was a striking girl, tall and athletic, confident enough at 18 to wear short skirts and low-cut tops, and always in the front row in the center of the classroom.

"Morning Professor B," she said every day as I walked in.

She always had a big smile, which made her blue eyes sparkle, her long brunette hair tied back in a ponytail, her long tanned legs stretched out and impossible to avoid staring at, which I did every day.

She she knew it, too.

"Morning Alex," I would say playfully, "Morning class."

No one would ever respond.

We talked about great works of literature mostly, occasionally requiring a paper, sometimes a quiz on Mondays, but lots of reading. You could tell who'd read the work and who hadn't.

Not that I cared. I was paid well, a visiting professor, a writer in residence and a man long past giving a damn about college students. I did it out of curiosity mostly. That and the money.

But the truth is, I came in every evening because Alex would be there.

I was in my mid-40s, divorced twice, basically retired to a life at the beach. My ex was out of state and both my daughters were in college. I had never been more on my own. Never happier. And never hornier.

I dated several women around town, one an old friend of my ex who was still married to a guy neither of us liked very much. We'd had a threesome together when we were in our 30s, and we ended up cucking him. But that was another story altogether.

By now, I was branching out, looking for something kinkier than sex with a married woman or even sex with any woman. I wanted to have sex with a teenager again.

I wanted to fuck Alex,

And she knew it.

So every day was an erotic adventure, me standing before the class talking about Faulkner or Hemingway, and having a conversation with Alex, who raised her hand every time I had a question, and more times than not knew the answer. It had become a game, and most everyone in the class knew it.

She was good at the game, too.

Alex would cross and uncross her legs several times during the hour, sometimes opening them enough to see her panties, sometimes opening them enough to let me know she was wearing no panties.

It was all a part of the game. Then after class, she would linger and hang out at my desk while I gathered my things, then she'd follow me to my office, where I never closed the door behind us. She would sit on the edge of my desk and ask questions that had nothing to do with English, questions about college boys and my exes and sometimes my sex life.

"Do you have lots of sex?" she asked once, smiling at me and making my cock stir.

"Yes," I told her. "Do you."

She blushed and told me about her ex-boyfriend, a basketball player who'd left for college. She would tell me how unsatsfying it was, how he seemed nervous and unsure about sex.

She wanted more. And she wanted someone who knew what he was doing.

"I just want to feel the power of a man," she said another time. "I want to know what it's like to be..."

Her voice trailed off. She shrugged. She really didn't know what she wanted, but she assumed I did.

Our conversations were never long. She would flirt for a few minutes, drop hints, the subjects veering ever more toward the obvious, then she'd touch my arm, brush her hand across my chest as she rose, then walk out.

It was a very intoxicating game she was playing. And she was winning. But so was I.

One evening, toward the end of the semester, she dropped by after class and said she needed help with something. I need you to talk me through something, was how she put it.

Then she came right out and asked if she could come by my house.

"I know where you live," she said. "I go by there all the time."

"Alex, I don't know it that would be wise," I said. "What would your parents think?"

I happened to know her parents from the club we were all members of. They were rich and clueless about their daughter's coming of age. They were self-absorbed people, boring and predictable. Her mom played tennis and probably fucked her tennis instructor every week, and her dad played golf and probably hadn't had sex with his wife in years.

I avoided them, and if they knew who I was they never let on.

So eventually, I relented. I told Alex to drop by on Saturday afternoon and I would help talk her through whatever it was she was struggling with.

She showed up mid-morning. I was just getting out of the shower when the doorbell rang. I walked to the door in a robe when I realized it was her.

"Alex," I said, a little flustered.

She laughed, threw the door open and walked in like she owned the place. It was springtime, and it was already warm at the beach, and she was dressed for it. She was wearing a string bikini under a sheer untucked and unbuttoned blouse with tight shorts, also unbuttoned at the waist, no shoes and her hair down. I'd never seen it down before.

Her sunglasses were hiked up on her head, pulling her hair back. She was stunning. She gave me a peck on the cheek and smacked my butt as she walked past.

"Make me a drink," she said, walking toward my bar. "Oh hell. I'll make it myself. What'll you have Mr. B?"

She'd never called me that, but it was somehow sexy hearing it for the first time from her. My daughters' friends called me that for years.

Alex made a bloody Mary and handed it to me. Then she made herself one. We made small talk for a few minutes, eventually walking out to the deck where the wind was blowing a little harder than I realized. She smiled as my robe blew up over my ass once or twice.

"Nice ass, Mr. B!" she said laughing.

We sipped our drinks and stared at each other through sunglasses. I'd never seen her body this exposed. She had perfectly taut tits, about 36c, with an athletic waist, strong thighs from playing sports and beautifully manicured toes and fingernails.

"Mr. B," she said, breaking the tense silence. "I have a serious question to ask."

"Fire away," I said. "Anything at all."

She took a deep breath and pulled her sunglasses over her head again, leaning next to me against the railing as I raised my arm and put it around her shoulder. She sat her drink down on the railing and stuck a finger in it, then bringing it to my mouth, where I opened it then let her slide it inside me. My cock stirred as she traced her finger down my chin, down my neck and to my chest, pushing open my robe just slightly before burying her head against me.

Alex was a tall girl, probably 5-9, and the top of her head was just under my chin. She was silent as she traced her finger inside my robe, feeling my nipple and circling it with her nail.

My cock was now hard, and it was inches from poking through the robe. I kissed her on the top of her head.

"You are so beautiful," I whispered.

She remained silent, feeling my chest heave and my nipple turn hard and erect. She pushed open my robe and slid her tongue down my chest, finding my hard nipple, sucking it, licking it, biting it as I breathed harder, reaching down to open my robe entirely.

My cock sprang free as her hand wandered down to touch it, softly tracing her nails up and down the shaft, feeling my shaved balls as the other hand slipped around my waist, sliding down to my ass as I completely let the robe fall off at my feet.

"Tell me what you want," she said.

I reached down and grabbed a handful of her long brown hair and pulled her down to her knees, forcibly but not violently.

"Suck me," I said in a low voice. "Suck my cock."

She seemed to purr as she went to her knees, taking my cock into her mouth slowly and confidently. She slid her hand under my balls while her other hand ran up and down the back of my leg, her nails digging slightly into me, making my cock harder and she took it all in, all seven inches, deep into her throat.

She looked up at me with kitten eyes, totally submissive as her hand went farther under my balls, exploring my asshole, teasing it as she stared at me.

"Suck me," I said, louder and more sternly as she melted under me, closed her eyes and began to devour my cock, worshipping it on her knees, sliding it across her face making submissive sounds, begging for it, whispering to herself as she rubbed the head of my cock all over her face, precum oozing out as she toyed with it, licking it, sucking it, making animal sounds and raising her voice,

"My God I love your cock," she said. "I wanted this so bad. I want to suck your cum. I want it inside me."

I grabbed her hair and began to face-fuck her, harder and harder, gagging her as her mouth began to slobber, sloppier and sloppier, tears coming from her eyes as I used her and made her my slave. She gargled and spit and made vocal sounds but no words, lost in a world she'd never been in, only imagined in her masturbation dreams, my cock sliding into her like a piston, my balls slapping against her chin as I pounded her face into my crotch, slamming her into me, holding her hair with both hands.

"I'm cumming," I said, my teeth clinched as my balls exploded, thick ropes of white cum spewing into her mouth and throat as she gagged more and more, coughing and swallowing, so much cum that it ran from her mouth and down her chin, hanging in long strands with her drool as she drank the last drops from my red cock.

I let go of her hair, stood there while she licked me clean then sucked the wet strands of cum from her chin, making "mmmmmm" sounds as she cleaned herself like a kitten, still on her knees, her legs and feet curled directly under her.

When she finished, she put her arms behind her, lowered her head and knelt silently. I slowly placed my robe over her shoulders, leaned in and kissed her again on the top of the head, then left her there, went into the kitchen and made myself another drink.

It was beginning of a beautiful relationship. It was the beginning of a beautiful summer.

To be continued...