[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/i4dpcy/pleasing_the_professor/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/i4kclr/pleasing_the_professor_part_2_mf_age_gap/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/i4zjpn/pleasing_the_professor_part_3_mf_age_gap_cheating/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
I’m already drunk when I see the message. *35 Maple Ave, 9:00pm.* Against my better judgement, I click on the address and it opens on Google Maps. *5 minute walk*. I glance at the time on my phone. It’s 8:45 already. Rage fills me as I think of my last encounter with my professor. The way he took me like I belonged to him. The explosive orgasm he coaxed from me with just his hands. The way he practically threw me under his desk when his wife showed up. I haven’t been able to get her face out of my head all fucking week. It’s driven me here, to the graduate student bar, surrounded by drunk, sweaty, smelly strangers. I bring my glass lips and finish my vodka soda, grimacing at the shitty well alcohol as it burns down my throat.
“Another one please,” I say to the bartender who nods and hands me one more drink. This is going to be the last one, I tell myself. And then I’m going to find a cute, unmarried guy to take me home and make me forget about my professor. My phone buzzes again and I can’t help but look at it.
*Need you. Please come.* My teeth clench, but so does my core. The rage consuming me is now tinged with lust. Pictures of my professor flash in front of me. His toned body, his stubble scratching against pussy, the sounds of his breathing when his tongue is inside of me. Fucking fuck. I down my drink and pay my tab. I leave the bar and start walking. Cloudy thoughts of disgust and regret and pure hatred fill my head as I make the 5-minute walk. *You know what, fuck him*. I’m going to show up to wherever this fucking address is and I’m going to end it. This is over.
I’m at 35 Maple Ave before I even realize. It’s a beautiful, big Victorian home with a wrap-around porch. I recognize the car in the driveway. It’s his. I know because I’ve come all over that passenger seat. And the driver’s seat. And the backseat too. Slowly, I make my way to the front door and ring the bell.
“You’re early,” he says as he opens the door. As always, the sight of him knocks the breath out of me. The urge to launch my body into his and feel his lips on mine nearly overtakes me, but my resolve is strong.
“You’re an asshole,” I state, stumbling into the foyer. The house is beautiful, I can’t deny it. Huge, and well kept. I can see signs of him everywhere. In the color of the walls, in the scent permeating through the air.
“Is this your house?” I ask, stupidly.
“Yes,” he says, closing the door.
My eyes fall on a framed wedding picture sitting on the console table. There they are, my professor and his wife, smiling and staring at each other. In a trance, I walk to it. Before I realize what I’m doing it, I pick it up and smash it into the ground with as much force as I can muster. I grab picture after picture from the wall–one of his wife drinking wine by the fire, another of him in an apron making dinner for her–and hurl them as far away from me as I can. Glass sparkles as each frame explodes on the ground.
“Fuck. You. Fuck. You.” It’s all I can say as I smash everything in front of me. Pictures, artwork, little travel souvenirs. I don’t want to see her face. I don’t want to see evidence of a life they’ve built together, the life that I’m ruining just by being here.
Strong hands grab mine and pull me into a strong body.
“Calm down,” he says, as if I wasn’t just destroying his possessions. The tranquility of his voice rips through me and sends me to another fit of blinding rage. My free my hand and slap him hard across the face. Rage flits through his features as he grasps my hand. He pulls me into his body again and slams me face first against the bare wall. Glass crunches under our shoes. My professor’s scent fills my nostrils and tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
I feel his hardness against my back and a stake of lust travels through my body. I’m so torn. I want him inside me, I want him to make me come, I want to see the look on his face as he fills me up. But at the same time, I hate myself for being the other woman. I hate myself for wanting him. Most of all, I hate him for making me feel this way.
“Let me go,” I ask, “Please for god sakes, let me go.” He doesn’t relent. Instead, he brushes my hair onto one shoulder and places a kiss on the back of my neck. My knees go weak at his touch and goosebumps erupt on my skin.
“Let me go,” I whisper again. Again, his lips brush my skin, this time traveling from my neck to my shoulder. An involuntary moan leaves my throat. He turns me slowly so that we’re face to face. The usual playful sparkle in his eyes have been replaced by something else entirely. A ferocious hunger. A terrible need. Heat spreads over my body as I realize the thing he’s hungry for, the thing he needs, is me.
My weak resolve crumbles. Without another word, I reach down and pull my dress over my head. Automatically, his hands find my breasts and cup them. He runs his thumbs over my bra, making my nipples pucker and harden and sending a bolt of desire between my legs. He tangles his hand into my hair and pulls my head back, exposing more of my bare skin to his mouth. My eyes close in pure delight as his kisses trail down from my jaw, to my collarbone, then to the tops of my breasts. He unclasps my bra easily in one swift moment and pulls it off my arms. The bristles of his beard scratch my flushed skin as he dips his head down and captures a nipple into his mouth. He flips me back around. I can feel his hardness against my ass. His hands find their way to mine and lift them above my head. One holds them in place while the other hand pulls my panties from my hips. He wraps his hand around me and it finds its way down into my panties. A groan leaves his mouth as his fingers spread my lips apart and start to rub slow, torturous circles on my clit.
I’m immobilized beneath him, slave to the pleasure spreading outwards from my pussy. I’m so wet, I’m practically dripping onto the floor, onto the shattered glass and the pictures of him and his wife. A finger dips into me and I lose it. The orgasm floods me, driving all coherent thoughts from my body. All I can focus on is the blinding pleasure coursing through my veins, making my pussy clench and my legs shake. If it wasn’t for the wall in front of me and my professor’s strong body behind me, I would be a puddle on the ground.
“Not enough,” he growls in my ear and I agree with him completely. One finger is not enough. One orgasm isn’t enough. He grabs me by the hand to pull me further into the house and I follow him blindly. He leads me to the living room and I know it’s my turn. I stop him by grabbing his hips and pulling him into me. I sink to my knees, bringing his pants down with me. He huge dick springs out and I swallow it whole.
My tongue travels the up length of his shaft, swirls around the tip, and then I take him down to my throat. I can’t help but moan at the taste of him. It’s manly; salty sweet, and uniquely him. I crave this flavor. His hands clutch at my hair and guide my mouth over him, back and forth until he’s fully fucking my face. His dick hits the back of my throat over and over again. I used to hate giving blowjobs until I met my professor. Making him come apart with just my mouth fills me with a heady pleasure I didn’t know I could feel.
“Fuck,” he moans, pulling himself out of me with a ‘pop’. I feel empty as he leaves me, but not for long. He pulls me back to my feet. He backs up and sits down on the couch, pulling me on top of him. I straddle his thighs and plunge his cock into my core. This. This is why I’m here. This is why I cannot stay away from this man. The way he hits every sensitive nerve and fills me up. I can’t get enough. I throw my head back and rest my hands on his knees as I ride him with abandon. The alcohol from earlier has completely removed my inhibitions. My breasts bounce as I travel up and down his cock. His thumb finds our juncture and rubs my clit in just the right way. The whole room disappears as another orgasm rocks through my body. I fall forward onto my professor’s body. He grasps my hips with his big hands, holding my trembling body in place against his. He knows I’m coming; I know he can feel me clenching around him. But he doesn’t let me rest. He thrusts up and down, tunneling into me, punishing me with his pace and elevating my pleasure to another fucking planet. Moans rip from my throat, and he still doesn’t stop. He continues slamming into me, until I seize up again. This time wetness gushes out of me in streams and I’m squirting all over him, completely lost in the pleasure he has created.
I’m shaking now, completely used up, spent. I cannot take another orgasm, I will literally die. My legs are jelly, my heart is thumping against my ribs, and my skin is flushed. But he’s unfazed. I can see in his eyes that he’s not done with my body yet. He pulls himself out of me and lets me catch my breath.
“Ready?” he asks, and I look at him with torture in my eyes. He laughs and plants a kiss on my mouth. It’s almost sweet, tender even. His fingers find their way to my nipples again. They’re still sensitive and hard and his calloused hands need only brush them to make me ready again.
“Yes,” I say. It’s barely a word, it’s a moan ripping from my body. He pushes me onto my back, rests my head against the armrest, and lines himself against my slit. I close my eyes in anticipation.
“Watch,” he says, teasing my opening with his cock.
“What?” I say, my eyes fluttering open.
“I want you to watch me take you,” he says.
“Please, just do it,” I whimper. But he refuses.
“Look at me, baby,” he says. I have no control here. I know that now. This is his show, his life. I’m his plaything. And I’m okay with that. So, I do what he says
I’m rewarded with the picture of his huge, thick cock sinking into my folds. God, the way he fills me is like no other feeling I’ve ever felt. I’ve been with other guys, but no one has ever made me come the way my professor has. He starts to rock back and forth and immediately the pleasure begins to build again in my core. I’m aching for another release, to just let go and forget about everything, to lose myself in him. As if he hears my thoughts, his hand wraps itself around my throat. My eyes find his. We’ve never done anything like this before. But I find that the pressure there is exactly what I need. I nod and he nods back. He squeezes gently and continues pounding into me. Suddenly, there’s a heady rush to my brain. Combined with the building pressure in my pussy, I fall over the edge and lose myself in the orgasm. I hear my professor cry out as he comes inside of me. The compression tightens suddenly around my throat and then it’s gone. We both come crashing down from the high. He lifts himself to his feet and the pressure leaves my core as well. I feel like I’m going to float away.
He hands me a tissue from the coffee table in front of us and begins to clean up. “I told her.”
I nearly fall out of the couch, “What?”
“My wife. Or I guess, my ex-wife now. I told her everything. That I’m leaving her. That there’s someone else. She doesn’t know it’s you or that you’re my student. I thought it was best to leave that a secret.” He smirks.
“Really?”
“Really,” he confirms.
Slowly, I stand too. And then I launch myself into his arms. He kisses me and spins me around.
It’s like color has found it’s way back into my life. Like the clouds have parted and happiness suddenly has a place in my heart again. I know that a chapter of his life has come to an end, but I also know that the chapters of our life together are just beginning.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/k6s8p0/pleasing_the_professor_final_mf