You’re a good student but I’d prefer to make you bad (Mf)

The classroom is sweltering as the clock hits 4:57pm. Only a few minutes of detention left. 

My first ever, completely unexpected, I had whispered to my friend MacKenzie in his class and that was that, I was told to stay behind. 

Of course, I didn’t necessarily mind, I got to take in the full spectacle of Mr. Laurent, a French whirlwind of gorgeousness. Tanned, long-flowing black locks contouring his face, shaping the piercing hazel eyes that would leave your heart beating more than a little faster each time.  He was my most interesting teacher by far, English literature, he made the pages come alive, he made learning fun. It was more than a bonus that he was the crush of every girl in my year too.  It was almost a shame I was only going to be able to take him in in my final year of school before college, just after turning eighteen. After the next few months he was gone out of my life… forever.

I sit with my hands folded on the desk. He moves on the platform waiting for the clock to hit five. He’s almost impatient, tapping his foot in a slow rhythm and furtively looking back to the time on the wall. Taking off his glasses he folds his arms and stares at me momentarily, fuck I wish he wouldn’t. My stomach takes little leaps as I manage a smile in response. He doesn’t react but I know he knows how he’s making me feel with these glances. Feeling myself go red I rest my chin on my hand and try to stare out of the window, anything to make it less intimidating. Involuntarily, I unfold my legs and let them stretch out under the desk.

4:59pm. Seconds ache away but the world feels like it has slowed to a crawl. Mr. Laurent feels it as well, he’s tapping more nervously with his foot, arms folded, his thick biceps bulging out from under his formal wear, I think I can make out a vein underneath the white.  

There’s something bugging me though. There are only three of us here. Two other boys who had been caught skipping homework. They sit much nearer the front. It wasn’t so much that though, it was a numbers game. MacKenzie had always told me that detention was at least 10 people or so most weeks, it was the whole year not just the whole class. Something was up with just us three here. Something stirs inside me, the seed of a naughty desire, I could be about to be very alone with Mr. Laurent. 

Three…two….one. The school bell rings out with a deafening screech. He sighs, folding his glasses on his shirt and motions to the two boys sat up front.  

“Colton…Sean, you’re free to go. Miss Summers, stay behind though please, I’d like an extra word.”

Gulp. An extra word? What the hell was going on? Had I done something completely wrong on the fiction project?

The two other boys get up and move like lightning, obviously keen to be anywhere else but here. Chattering away, they get to the door and fling it open. 

“Just do the work so we don’t have to do this every week guys. It gets boring.” Meagre nods from both of them as they go charging out and their footsteps carry through the corridor. The door swings close and a horrible silence falls over the classroom. I feel paralyzed, unable to move from my seat, like a prey on the Savannah, hunted by a lion, watched continuosly by him.

He doesn’t say anything, keeping his arms folded on the stage, looking directly at me. Me, in my tight little skirt and modest white shirt, top few buttons undone.

“Professor, I don’t fully understand why I’m here. I just explained part of question six to MacKenzie.” My voice feels so weak, like I was guilty of something in any case. It wasn’t so much guilt but nerves. I had no idea what was going on.

He flicks his black locks out of his eye before uncuffing his shirt and rolling his sleeves up. If his intention was to get my full attention, it is working wonders, the visual treat of his thick and veiny forearms, more than an ample attraction, more than a stimulant for my vivid imagination. 

“You’re one of my best students Tiffany, you do all of your assignments on time, you think outside the box and you challenge my assumptions…”

His voice rumbles at a low frequency, its just the right pitch where it raises the little pinprick goosebumps on my arms. He slowly walks down from the platform, with a completely confident walk, his pants wrapped tightly around his huge quads and thighs. Even this man’s legs are delicious, it was frustrating almost. There had to be some physical flaw somewhere, no one was all perfection. 

“Don’t worry I’m not mad about the whispering.” He continues to move closer to me, black hair swinging behind him. He slicks it back with his hand and shuffles forward. 

If it’s not the whispering, what is it then? I really wish he wouldn’t get so close to me. Fidgeting in my seat, I clear my throat and try to make sense of everything. . 

“I…I still don’t quite understand. What is this about?” My brown hair is draped over my right eyelid and I flick it, whilst quickly running my hands through. 

He’s a few feet away from me. A sweet scent, it smells like Davidoff’s Cool Water, drifts from his shirt all over me. I instinctively move my hands from the desk and put them in my lap. Why am I so submissive all of a sudden? He could tell me to do anything right now and I don’t think I could resist. The tension between us could be sliced with a butter knife. I’ve never had so much time to admire him up close before and his presence like this is stealing all reason from me, replacing it with a burning sensation, a deep-rooted desire

“Tiffany, you are always the good girl. Have you never tried being bad, even for one day?” The words mixed with his French accent have me all gooey, I want to pinch myself, this is like a beautiful dream. This happens in the movies, not in Park Range High School. He’s towering over me, my face nearly at his waist level. I’m tempted to catch a quick glimpse down there but I don’t dare look. 

“Sir?” Sir, jeez Tiffany. 

“I think you need someone to teach you to embrace your wild side a little bit” 

End of Part 1

Part 2

The heat is unbearable, it is only 80 fahrenheit or so, but it feels more like 110, especially in a classroom, all alone after school with Mr. Laurent, a man who seemed to effortlessly capture all of my schoolgirl fantasies in one irresistible package. 

“My wild side?” I was playing dumb to try and give myself some breathing room. 

“I want to expand your curriculum a little bit. It should broaden your understanding.”

I laugh. There was no way this was real at this point, it was all a big joke and I had to diffuse the tension somehow. This was a cruel prank someone was playing on me, maybe MacKenzie had corresponded with Mr. Laurent just to get me back for being too much of a nerd.

“What’s so funny Tiffany?”

I stop laughing almost instantly and redness covers all of my cheeks, damn I’m embarrassed. His facial expression darkens and I choke up again, words failing me. With a hooded glare, he inspects me up and down and makes me stiffen in my chair again.

“Do I look like a man who treats seduction as a joke?” 

My body is completely rigid, my heart and my head battling each other in a furious contest of will. Everything about this was wrong, he was a crush, not a serious interest, just a fantasy I had built up in my head and there was nothing socially acceptable about what was happening. I had to put a stop to it. This has to end here.

“Professor, this is so wrong, this is so risky. What if someone finds us. I don’t think I can do this. I think you’re a very attractive man but I can’t do this.”

He plants his hands down slowly on the desk, looking me square in the eye, my gaze dropping to this lips . 

“Those are words Tiffany, not how you really feel. Don’t play me with bullshit.”

“How do you know that? How can you know?”  

“Your legs under the desk, your breathing, I’ve seen the way you look at me, there’s too many signs Tiffany.”

My rational side is kneeling, hands behind her back, eyes up and looking at her instructor. 

“What if…if we get caught? What on earth would happen to us?”

The last remnants of sanity escape my lips but it feels feeble to both of us and he knows it, I’m powerless to resist this, my heart pounding in my ears as his face is mere inches from mine, his dark gaze undressing me. 

“It’s going to be our secret. We’re going to be careful. Wouldn’t you like to carry a secret for a while Miss Summers?” That accent. He was going to have me however he wanted, whatever he deemed pleasurable. 

I’m trembling, I want this too much. Nodding, I stay silent and search for the next steps in his eyes, scanning them like a hawk. I want him to stop talking and kiss me or tell me what to do next. Sensing my compliance he smiles and holds my chin, his touch sending jolts of electricity through my body, leaving me in my pooling lust. 

“Good girl.”

He quickly marches over to the window and draws the blinds down. No turning back now. His eyes are ablaze as he strides back to me, a menace to him, he’s as mesmerising as ever, impossibly hot with the locks flicking through the wind.

“Put your hands on the desk. Bend over for me.” Yes sir. 

Sweating, I lean over, presenting myself for him, my short skirt hiking over the top of my hamstrings, he can see everything he wants to, he can do anything he wants to. His busy hands peel away my soaked panties, dragging them slowly down my legs as my anticipation slides down the inside of my thighs. My stomach muscles are tensing with the thought of him exploring me down there, doing exactly as he pleases with me. 

“You’re not going to need those.” Completely masculine, completely feral. Yes sir. He slides my panties all the way down to my ankles and with his foot, spreads my legs a bit wider. 

I blush deeper thinking of the visual he must have of me in this position, pantyless and bent over for him, breathing harder than I ever have in my life. 

“That’s my girl. Tell me you’ve never wanted to make out with your professor before?”

He crushes my lips with his, his tongue coaxing mine into a wet dance as he starts pinning my hips against his thick groin, murmuring his approval in my ears. I feel his rigid outline through his pants against my exposed flower, wetting the seam of his pants with a little trail of my desire. I can feel how big he is as he runs his hands over my backside and lets me grind against it, fantasising about how it might be used. 

“Stay still.” I hear the zipper to his pants winding down, ever so slowly, teasing me just a little bit longer. I sense him protruding through his underwear, 

“Tell me how much you want me inside you.”

“Please sir, please, I want you, I want you.” Moans and gasps leave me as he caresses my plump posterior, running his hands down my curvy waist and dragging his tip against my sticky slit. I feel his own pre-arousal against my wetness, dripping against my delicate flower.  

“Beg for me.”

“I need you, I need this, I want this. Please, please.”

He’s gentle with me for a moment as he slides his head inside me. My hands grip onto the desk as hard as possible, he’s even bigger than I thought, his taut tip spreading inside my opening with complete ease. With a sensual whisper into my ear he slides the rest of his huge girth inside me, filling me up as far as I can handle it. My eyes roll back in my head and I shudder with a grimace of pain as I try to steady my breathing, blowing big breaths out of my mouth quickly.

“Sir, you’re so big, I can’t hold it.” 

“It’s okay, we start slow Tiffany.” Fuck. 

The first stroke is heavenly, the sloppy sliding sound turns him on even more as I feel him grow another inch inside me. It was going to be an ordeal not to cum too quickly like this and he knew it with me so aroused and moist for him. 

I feel a fistful of my hair quickly grabbed and yanked back. Umm that feels good. His thrusts speed up every so slightly and my hips bounce backwards against his firm lower stomach and muscular groin. My eyes close and my moans become a lot louder but he covers my mouth with his other hand tugging me with all of his might in the other hand.

“Shhh. Now, now, you’re going to have to be fucked a lot harder than this I think Tiffany.”

I lean my head back as far as I can to meet his eyes and he buries his aggression into me, his tongue exploring my mouth before he bites my bottom lip, smiling with his handiwork and just how enamoured I am with him. I’m going cross-eyed and my backside is going in concentric circles with each thrust. My legs stiffen as he keeps up a tortuous rhythm, I’m immobile against this desk, no power to change my destiny, shuddering uncontrollably under my controlling Adonis. 

“See how good it feels to be bad Tiffany?” He slaps my exposed backside with the force of a thousand hands. I yelp but he muffles me with his left hand, continuing his vigorous attack. His hips are so powerful, plunging into me and making my backside ripple with each strike. I smile with the rippling and cracking sound that hits the air with every stroke. Jeez, he’s teaching me so well. 

“What if your parents found out? What if the headmaster found out what a dirty girl you can be? You know his office is just down the corridor. Guess we’ll have to be quick, don’t want the head to see you full to the hilt with me do we now?” 

He speeds up into a furious aggression, holding both of my hips and letting my moisture spill out onto my thighs and the floor. Sweat is turning into vapour on my lower back from the heat between us, the A/C in the classroom nowhere to be found. He leans over me a little bit further and hikes his own leg up onto the desk with great flexibility finding the perfect angle to tip me just that bit further over the edge. I lose all control of my voice trying to get words out but the sensation is too good, I’m in too much ecstasy to care. 

He’s finding the perfect pace now, not too fast and not too slow, his leg up on the table, our bodies meeting each other in a furious dance of erotic power. His hips move in a circular motion and his glutes provide the horsepower, leaving me breathless and building to a strenuous orgasm.

“Oh fuck, oh my god. I’m going to cum. Sir, please, please.” My words escape me at a hundred miles per hour, my lungs on fire and my heart beating with every circular thrust as I feel it coming. He slaps me on my left cheek, leaving a red imprint as he doesn’t let up. His big erection graces my g spot over and over again with his deep penetration becoming far too much for me. 

“Sir, sir, I’m going to, I’m going to.” My voice raises in pitch with each phrase and my hands sprawl across the desk to reach the edges. My bambi legs give way, the only thing holding me up is the pulverising force of his hips smashing my quivering core from below. I’m a viscous mess down there as I flood all over him, squirting against his rock hard abs and leaving a building pool on the classroom floor. 

He slows down noticing my body is flushed out and stilled with the effort. The sensation doesn’t stop and I wince harder, a deep moan leaving my mouth as I try and stifle it to keep quiet but it doesn’t help much, it wheezes out of me like air escaping a balloon. 

“Oh fuck. Oh my god, fuck. Wow.”  I feel like crying and I tremble on the desk, my stomach against the cool surface with my heart hammering away. That wasn’t just sex, that was something else, that was an out-of-body experience. He still feels so big inside me but he withdraws from my hot mess, stretching me open as his swollen head struggles to leave me before finally spilling out in an agonising tease. He doesn’t want to cum this time. 

Whimpers leave me as he carefully pulls my skirt back down and lets me turn around and look at him in all of his glory. I’m shuddering with the aftershock, small tears streaming down my face as I kiss him as hard as I can, reciprocating his hungry affection for me. He meets me with the same level of need and cups my face with his big hands, applying gentle letting me explore his tousled hair, it’s like a soft silk sheet flowing through my fingers one wave after the next. 

“You might be my favourite student Tiffany and so much more.”

My hands reach for his face, trying to stroke his jawline but he stops me after a few seconds.  

“Not yet Tiff, not yet. Later.” He has pulled his shaft back into his pants but he is still rock hard, pressing against the zipper. I instinctively reach for him and try to stroke him through the cotton but he stops me again, this time a little more assertively. 

“Next time.” I nod, we had made enough noise. Instead I nestle my hands against his chest  and lean my head into his breastbone. He lets me keep it there and strokes my hair tenderly. My breathing is steady but I’m left with all manner of emotions bounding inside me, how was I supposed to continue studying after that?

“Sir I don’t quite know how to feel about all of this.” 

“Shh. Tiff, it’s okay, you did well, I know it can be quite overwhelming.” Pulling me into him closer, he looks like he has barely broken a sweat, like an athlete just after a warm up. He smells divine still, his cologne still all across his shirt and his breath, like strawberries and mint all wrapped in one. Maybe he was right, I was overthinking it, there was no denying how my body had reacted to him, there was no changing what I had felt in the moment when he took me further than any man probably ever could. I knew he felt something more than just the sex too. 

“This was just the foundation. You have a lot more to learn from me. You know that right?“ Just the foundation? Holy shit, what else does this man have? 

I look up at him, nodding through my once-teary expression and try to settle my voice. 

He withdraws from me and strolls back to the blinds quickly drawing them up, letting rays of sunshine splash through onto the classroom floor before stepping back up onto the platform with his desk.

“I’ll make arrangements for our next few private lessons at my residence downtown. Keep doing your normal assignments and we’ll work on your technique, a bit more thoroughly next week. Somewhere you can learn for a bit longer. I have your number.”  The class WhatsApp chat. 

“I’d like that.” I smile and stare at him and a smirk emerges on his face, a sexy uptick at the edge of his mouth as his broad shoulders slump down, relaxing with me. We lock eyes for another few moments, the chemistry completely charged in the air between us, before he puts his fingers to his lips. 

“Remember Tiff, our little secret. Leave your panties, I’ll buy you some new ones. And don’t worry about the floor, I’ll sort it.” He sits down at his desk and turns over some papers, licking his finger and dabbing his pen as he glasses fall back into place. I make for the door clutching my backpack, head all over the place and try to think of something to say. There was nothing to say. I want this. I had to be his. I swing the door open and go to step out into the corridor but there is one last thing.

“Bye professor.” 

“Bye Tiffany.” He stops writing and smiles at me again, with a look I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of.

And with that, detention was over. 

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hlce1j/youre_a_good_student_but_id_prefer_to_make_you