[MF] Underneath an Undergraduate

Francesca Costa leaned against the restaurant’s cold brick wall and sulked, phone in hand.

“Hello? Did you hear me?” she heard the faint, tinny voice say.

She lifted the phone to her ear again. “Okay, maybe another time?” she asked.

The voice made her excuses, tonight wasn’t good, too much homework to do this week, finals were coming up, you understand, and so on.

“Alright,” said Francesca, “well, send me a text if you’re free sometime and we can try again. If you want.” As she said it, she realized she was being dishonest. Even if her date did invite her out again, Francesca probably wouldn’t respond.

The two exchanged pleasantries, said good night, and Francesca shoved her phone back into her crowded red handbag. She felt tears threatening to stain her cheeks and wiped them away before they had the chance; she didn’t want to cry over a girl from class that she hardly knew. Maybe she would have an easier time with one of the boys?

A car lazily rolled past, the couple inside chatting away happily. Francesca could see the exhaust coming out of the muffler and realized how cold the night had grown. She pulled her jacket tighter and began a hasty walk back to her campus dormitory.

She hadn’t made it far before she started shivering, wishing that she had worn a skirt that came down to her knees. Walking in the cold hadn’t been in the plan. She had hoped to get a ride home in her date’s car—maybe even to her date’s apartment instead of her own. Lost in thought, she looked around and realized that she was just outside the anthropology building. Warm, inviting light poured through the glass doors. She walked over and grabbed the cold metal handle, hoping that it wasn’t locked. She pulled. The door came free, greeting her with a gust of warm (and slightly musty) air. This wasn’t the happiest place to seek shelter and warm up, however briefly. The anthro survey course proved no walk in the park, and Francesca’s paper had been torn apart by the professor last week. He was a well-groomed, middle-aged man with dark black hair. She thought she had glimpsed tattoos peaking out from his sleeves when the weather had been warmer. She liked him—until she started getting her assignments back.

Light poured from his open door. The sounds of flipping pages drifted faintly into the hallway. All the other doors on the hallway were closed and dark. She hadn’t even realized that she had been walking to his office. Her thoughts had been overtaken by fantasies of giving him a piece of her mind. This had been a hell of a semester, and tonight, she was pissed off. She hesitated a moment, but her anger got the better of her. Rage made her feel hot, eager for a fight. She threw off her jacket, then took the last few steps to his doorway.

— —

Doctor Adrian Murphy sat at his desk far later than he had intended. The stack of papers in front of him didn’t seem inclined to grow any smaller tonight no matter how hard he struggled through them. Armed with his red pen, he soldiered on.

“Mr. Murphy?” called a voice.

It was past seven, and no one should be in the building this time of night except for a professor or two seeking asylum from the distractions of home. He thought that, since it was a Friday and the doors were locked, he would have the building to himself. There certainly shouldn’t be an undergraduate wearing a smart red dress standing in his doorway. But truth be told, the front door never closed all the way anyhow and even after a year or more no one had bothered to fix the latch. The sub-par undergraduate papers had made him cranky. Here was an undergrad now, a target for his dissatisfaction.

“Doctor Murphy, if you please,” he said. “Did you just graduate from high school? You should know to refer to anyone teaching in this department as ‘doctor’ by now.”

“I did.”

“You did what? Know better?”

“I did just graduate from high school.”

The girl had looked furious when he first noticed her. Now, her eyes were positively shooting daggers his way.

“Ah, I recognize you,” he said. “You’re in the Intro class aren’t you?”

“You’re being unfair.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re being unfair. The grading. The assignments are too difficult to pass. I don’t know anything about South America, how am I supposed to- “

“South America? We’ve been studying the Caribbean.”

Francesca glared through dark eyes. “I know that! I miss-spoke. I’m flustered. I’ve had a night, thank you.”

“And were you flustered all last week when you wrote your term paper, too?”

That stung. Francesca felt her face burning up. She imagined that her body was about to explode. She shot forward and slammed her hands on his desk. “What do you want from me? I’m new here. I’ve never done this before. I’m trying my best but this is nothing like high school and I have four other classes just as foreign to me and I’m trying!”

Murphy’s face changed. Did he look concerned? He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she cut him off.

“I can’t believe this shit,” she said. “You’re paid to teach me and this is what you do. You don’t teach, you just grade us like we’re supposed to know how to do all this already because you want to feel superior and you don’t actually know how to be a teacher.” Her stomach felt like something was fluttering inside, and her skin burned. Anger like this was a new experience for her. She felt powerful. But now she worried that she had stepped across a line.

Murphy held her gaze, waiting for her to speak again. After a few moments of silence, he pointed to her shoulder. “Your straps fell,” he said.

Francesca looked down. He was right. Both of her straps had fallen from her shoulders. Her dress had held on one side, but on the other… she hastily grabbed the fabric and pulled it back over her breast. She felt something against the palm of her hand. The hardness of her nipple surprised her. Could he see them poking through the fabric? She felt mortified, disarmed. Her face flushed from embarrassment now, not from anger. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. Tears were welling up in her eyes for the second time tonight.

Murphy rose from his chair and walked around his desk. “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was quiet now, soft in the way one might soothe a skittish horse. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me,” he said.

Francesca tried, but she couldn’t. She looked at his collar and his tie instead—it was loose. And his sleeves were undone. He did have tattoos, she saw. She felt jittery, full of nervous energy. Something else, too. Excited by his proximity to her? Or that she had taken this man to task? His demeanor had changed completely. She looked at his lips as he spoke. He was saying something.

“—and you’re totally right. I am being unfair. I should be more patient with you—with everyone in the Intro class—and I’ll do better. I don’t want you to fail, I really don’t. I want to see all of you grow.”

Francesca wasn’t really listening. Just staring at his lips. She grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and pulled Murphy close, pressing her mouth to his full lips. She felt his hands release her shoulders, his fingers spread wide in shock. She broke the kiss and stared, horrified, into his eyes. What had she done?

To her surprise, he reached up to her chin, arched her head back, and kissed her again.

— —

Francesca fumbled with Murphy’s belt, gave up and pulled his shirt out of his pants, then tried the belt again. She felt his tongue against her lips. She met it with her own tongue as she pulled his belt through the loops and tossed the leather strip to the floor. She felt his arm reach past her shoulder. The door swung shut and she heard the metallic click of a lock. His hand was on her ass now. She felt him squeeze, hard.

It hurt.

She moaned into his ear. The fabric of her dress tickled her skin as it rose up past the curve of her ass. His fingers slipped lower, grasping her warm flesh again and pulling her close. He grabbed the back of her leg and pulled it up around his waist.

Francesca panted against his cheek now, enjoying the wet pressure of his lips against her neck and shoulder, his fingers playing with her hair. She grinded herself against the bulge in his pants, wishing now that she had thought to unbutton those, too. His other hand slid up her leg, cupping her ass. She moaned into his shoulder as she felt his fingers creeping closer to her asshole, pressing her panties against the sensitive flesh there as Murphy slowly reached for her pussy, rubbing her engorged lips through the soft silk. She wondered if he could feel how wet she had become? She decided to help by sticking her ass out, pressing her body into his hand. Then she rolled her hips forward, shoving her mound against his erection. He had difficulty reaching her pussy when she did this, his fingers brushing over her ass again as she pressed forward. She alternated between the two, switching between his hand and his stiff cock like that until she couldn’t hold back any more. Collapsing against his chest, she reached down and pulled her underwear to the side for him, hooking the fabric over her ass and out of his way.

— —

Murphy gently slipped his middle and ring finger inside her. She was dripping wet for him already. The flesh inside felt soft and warm. He felt his cock swelling harder against her as she moaned into him, her warm breath tickling his neck. Her body continued grinding against his.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his neck.

He felt her fingers tugging at the band of his underwear, slipping them past his waist. The fabric became stuck around his cock. Francesca grasped him, stroking over the fabric, then she pulled his underwear farther down. He felt his cock spring out and slap against her body. The way she jumped and gasped, he thought that it must have hit her clit. Her fingers wrapped around his veiny cock and stroked up and down slowly. She pressed her cheek against his, turning her head until they were looking into each other’s eyes. Their lips were parted and they gasped almost in unison as they watched each other’s faces contort with pleasure.

A door swung shut down the hall. Francesca and Murphy froze, trying not to breathe. They could hear the sounds of keys jingling as someone walked along. The sound was growing louder, closer. Francesca stared into Murphy’s eyes daringly. She resumed stroking his cock, very slowly. He felt her hand grasp his fingers and pull them out of her pussy. She dipped her fingers inside, then coated his cock with her wetness. Footsteps stopped outside the door. Every sound seemed louder now; even the low hum of the computer on the corner of Murphy’s desk seemed deafening. Once his cock was almost totally coated, Francesca stopped alternating her hand between her vagina and his shaft. She stroked him again—slowly—and pulled his fingers back to the warm, wet slit between her thighs.

“Murphy?” called a female voice from outside the door. “You in there?”

Francesca worked her hand up and down faster, twisting as she went; her grip slid so easily along his sensitive flesh now that he was lubricated. Murphy sped up the rhythm of his fingers, rubbing them back and forth across her g-spot. They held their faces close together, both struggling not to make a sound. The fingers of Murphy’s other hand closed tightly in her hair. They heard the jingling of keys again and then footsteps growing fainter and more distant.

Once they no longer heard footsteps or the sound of bouncing keys, Francesca shifted, placing her knee on the desk, and pushed Murphy back until he was nearly sitting on the desk’s edge. He reached back and shoved the papers and debris out of the way and the lay back. She brought her other knee up on the desk and straddled him. Her hands reached up and pulled the top of the dress down, exposing her perky tits.

Murphy grabbed her by the waist with one hand, lifting her body gently as he positioned his cock with the other hand, and then he brought her back down. He leaned his head back and grunted as he felt her soft flesh enveloping him. He looked up and watched her play with her nipples while he guided her hips up and down. She rode him slowly at first, gradually picking up the pace. She slid so smoothly up and down his throbbing cock.

“You feel so good inside me,” she said. “I love the way you’re stretching me.”

Neither of them gave any care for how much noise they made now. Francesca moaned loudly, reaching back to squeeze her own ass. Murphy grabbed her by the tits, massaging them firmly as she bounced up and down on his lap. She took him by the wrists and guided his hands higher, to her neck. He gently wrapped his fingers around her, afraid that he would hurt or scare her. She pulled his thumb to her lips and kissed it before sucking it into her mouth.

Murphy pulled her face closer until her body lay on top of his. She worked her fingers through the buttons of his shirt, spreading it wide. Now he could feel her tits pressed against his chest, her nipples sliding up and down his skin as she pumped with her hips. She gasped when he reached down and grabbed her ass, a cheek in each hand. She gasped again when his middle finger stretched over and pressed gently inside. “Go faster,” he instructed.

He didn’t last long, but she didn’t seem to care.

Francesca did as she was told, sliding up and down his cock, saying “yes, yes, yes,” breathily into his ear with every smack of her body against his. As she felt him stiffening, approaching his climax, she sat upright again. Leaning back with her hands on his thighs, she rocketed up and down. Her tits weren’t exactly large, but still they bounced attractively.

Murphy squeezed her hips tightly and thrust hard and fast as his orgasm rushed cum inside her.

Francesca quaked and shivered as if a powerful electric current were coursing through her body. She lifted her hands to her chest and held tight.

She fell forward and lay flat against his chest, tits still in hand, thighs squeezed tight against his hips. He kept twitching inside her. She felt a strange sensation of liquid warmth filling her body.

They stayed like that for some time, both gasping for air and working to catch their breath. Murphy touched her back gently and played with her hair. Francesca kissed his neck and traced his collar bone with her fingers. They spoke quietly, enjoying their moment together. Later, after they had recovered their composure, they crept out of the building together and he walked her to his car. She felt his seed slowly dripping between her thighs with every step. He drove her home, kissed her goodnight, and held her hand until she stepped out of his car. He watched her body sway as she strutted to the door of her building. Then she disappeared inside.

— — —The End!— — —

If you read this far, I hope you enjoyed the story! I like hearing comments or receiving chats/messages. Feel free to send me feedback, chat with me a bit about the scene, or throw an RP idea my way. Love hearing from the ladies, especially!

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/k6l4ya/mf_underneath_an_undergraduate