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Private Lessons

Private Lessons


Erotic fiction by Michele London





Zach adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and tried to concentrate on the papers in front of him. Tried to look smart really, let’s be honest. He’d never spent more time in his life trying to impress people than during this damned class, where he was supposed to be the teacher, not some clown who didn’t know Shakespeare from Sherlock. He’d only taken the gig because it was at his alma mater, because some part of him thought that being in charge of a room full of frat boys and theater chicks he didn’t know would somehow show up all the ones he’d hated when he’d been in college. Because that made sense.

At least it was over, for today. The hour was up, the frat boys gone to play ultimate Frisbee on the lawn, the girls probably touching up in the bathroom before a philosophy lecture. Only the TA was left, hovering around the projector and flipping through notes. There was no law against it of course. There wasn’t another class in this room for an hour, she was free to be here and study as long as she liked. But it unnerved him, her presence in the back of the room, not looking at him, but facing him, which meant he was visible in her periphery, which meant he had to keep up the charade of Confident Professor until she left.

It had just occurred to him that he could probably get up and leave, too, if he wanted. This was a grown woman, he wasn’t obligated to babysit her; then she moved. He looked away from his papers for a second, to make sure she was heading for the door. It was long enough to catch sight of her tight jeans and slim-fitting yellow sweater, perky little tits curving under the soft cotton.

He swore under his breath and started jiggling his knee. Thank god for the table blocking her view; his Dockers were already getting too tight. He tried to follow her progress without looking up from his papers, listening for sounds of her leaving. But when he looked up again that yellow sweater was standing right in front of him, and he wasn’t cool enough to keep from jumping at the sudden presence.

Christ, he could smell her perfume from across the table. She smelled like something you should eat. A vision of her thighs pressing in on his cheeks derailed whatever conscious train of thought he’d been on, and he blinked rapidly to get himself back to reality. She smiled faintly, waiting.
    "Hi, yes, um, did you have a question?"
    "I hate to bother you with it."
    "Don't be ridiculous, ask it. I'm a teacher, right?"

Dear god he was sweating. Yes, he was the teacher. Who was he trying to convince?

    "Well, it's just that I'm not sure I really follow what you were saying about the symbolism in chapter two. The protagonist's letter represents his unrequited love for the heroine?"
    "Uh huh...um, I mean yes, yes, it's um, a representation of his inability to actually speak to her."

Kinda like this, he thought. Get it together for god's sake.

She came around to his side of the desk. He stilled the jiggling of his knee with an act of supreme will. Her notebook was open to a page half-filled with blue scribbles, and she flattened it out on the surface in front of them.
    "So then what I wrote here makes sense? I won’t sound like an idiot when I lecture tomorrow?"

He stared at her pages. She had nice handwriting. She was bent over the desk a bit, her sweater dangerously close to his head. He closed his eyes for a second. Sweet Christ, this was insane. He couldn't make out a word of what she'd written, he was too busy commanding himself to ignore her breasts and the things he wanted to do with them.
    "Yes, this looks fine," he said, assuming it was.
    "Ok, good. I just wanted to be sure."

The rational side of him, what was left of it, sighed inwardly. There, he'd helped and now they were done and she would leave. But no, she was writing something else in her book, some last note that probably summed everything up. Her hair fell forward and brushed against his cheek. He twitched, and she looked up, and damn, she had beautiful eyes and a mouth that was suddenly very, very close to his. Zach's hands started to tingle in some sort of primitive warning signal that his next idea was no good. But it was too late, because he was already doing it.

He kissed her quick, fast enough to taste her lips and satisfy the churning in his gut before his brain really cottoned on to what he was doing. When it finally did get up to speed, alarm bells clanged inside his skull. This was all kinds of wrong. What was he doing?
    "Sorry, sorry, um, my fault. That was, that was really stupid. Sorry."

She didn't say anything at first. Damn, that's it, she's freaked out, pissed, I'm fired. Stupid a-hole, way to ruin the best gig...

    "It's okay. I don't mind."
    "You don't?"
She actually giggled. "No. You're hot. Professor. Everyone thinks so."
    "They do?"
She just rolled her eyes and laughed again.
He gathered up his courage. One good mistake deserves another, right?

He stood up and wrapped his hands tentatively around her waist. When her body was flush with his he held his breath, waiting for her to pull away. She didn't, and it sent a rush if blood to his cock that he couldn't have hidden if he'd tried. She tilted her chin up. He knew an invitation to a kiss when he saw one.

This time, he let himself linger, savoring her kiss like, like... well, like something delicious. He stopped trying to think like a professor, stopped trying to think at all, and concentrated on where he was putting his hands.

But then it was her hands, rubbing down the length of his shaft through the dockers he was beginning to hate. She put pressure on the head of his cock, already so thick and sensitive that he groaned and grabbed her closer, pressing his fingers into her skin. She relaxed against him, and he moved them both up against the whiteboard, kissing her chest as he undid the buttons on her sweater.

When she was all but topless, the soft swells of the cutest breasts he'd ever seen pushing up from a silky red bra, he dipped his fingers below the fabric and caught the hard buds between them.

This was it, he really needed to stop, he'd gone far enough already. He shouldn't be taking them in his hands, he should... he should definitely not be sucking her nipples into his mouth and swirling them around with his tongue like a damned lollipop. God, she was sweet, so tight and perky and...

When her bare hand circled his cock he jumped, and his teeth bit down into her skin. He looked up, terrified she was hurt, but the glassy smile on her lips told him otherwise. She tightened her hold on him.
    "Do that again," she said, stroking her palm up and around his head where he was already leaking like winter pipes.

With her nipples between his teeth, Zach tried not to lose it right then and there. Her hand was working him almost better than he did himself, and the noises she was making were rapidly convincing him of the need of being inside her as soon as possible.

He felt her hair fall over his face, and her mouth brush against his neck. It was still a shock when her voice vibrated in his ear.
    "I want you to fuck me, Professor."

Some sort of animal groan came out of him and he grabbed her lips with his again, tearing at the zipper on her jeans and pushing the tight denim down over her ass to bunch around her knees. He would have liked to take her right there against the wall, but the angle was all wrong and he was no gymnast. So he swiped the papers off the desk and bent her over the top.

He gave a little cry of the good kind of pain when he pulled himself out of his pants. She slid a little square of plastic around behind her on the desk.
    “School supplies,” she laughed.

Even rolling it on was almost enough to do him in. He held back just long enough to pretend he had some dignity, or game, or anything other than wanting her so bad it hurt. But she was wet, so wet it made him dizzy; he wanted to taste her, and touch her, and fuck her all over his university-issued desk. He wanted to do a thousand things with her, each one more inventive than the last. But they all ended with this, sinking into her up to the root and being wrapped up in that beautiful wet heat.

She sighed when he filled her. He went slow, not because he was any kind of talent at this, but because he was seconds away from coming if he did not. A steady stream of breathy encouragements did nothing for his stamina but he tried to hold on, wanting to make it last. Her moaning got louder, and he reached down to tease her clit through all the heat and wetness and skin. Soon, she grabbed the edge of the desk, shaking with a strong and sudden orgasm. Zach thought he was pretty damn good to still be holding out after watching her come around his cock.
    “Professor...oh god...”
And then it was all over.

He held her waist to leverage himself and pumped into her in short, sharp thrusts, his breath rising in his throat and his leg muscles threatening to cramp. When he came, he bit back the grunt that would have been heard all the way down the hall and focused on his exhales instead, timing them to the waves of his release that were shaking through his whole body.

As his chest slowed to something like normal and consciousness began to return, a growing sense of panic started to infuse his senses. Wasn't there a class in here soon? He could still get fired for this. For, you know, leaving his mark on school property.

    "We should probably get out of here," he said, pulling himself together. "Don't want anyone walking in. I could get in trouble for this."
    "Don't worry, Professor,"she said. "I won't show it to anyone."

He frowned, his sex-muddled brain not making sense of her words. Then she held up her phone, the still from the video she'd been recording frozen on the screen. Zach swallowed slowly.

She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss just below his ear.
    "Want to come over to my place later and watch it with me?"

Yes. A lot.

    "Better come to mine. No roommates."

Copyright ScarletGirl.com



Michele London is an author, editor, and romance consultant with Scarlet Girl. She is a regular contributor to Scarlet’s Letter and the archive of articles at ScarletGirl.com. She writes dark fiction and erotic fantasy, and dips into real-life tales of sexy for the lovely ladies as a Scarlet Girl pleasure party consultant in the San Francisco Bay Area.

If you like this bit of erotica, and would like to see more, please let us know.
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This article was added to our catalog on Wednesday 07 August, 2013.

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