Sarah was dangerous [M46/F20] [Teacher/Student]

Sarah was dangerous, my wife told me. Reminded her of herself, she remarked. My wife had many fantasies about fucking and getting fucked by her college professors. This after a youth of fantasizing about fucking her high school teachers. It helped us get together. I was just a TA when we met but it was close enough and kept things interesting when I became a tenured professor, though we both knew the core of the interest could never be fully realized if she was not my student. This is why we never really role-played it. We flirted with power dynamics. I would occasionally play the dom and her the sub, but we always knew it was play. We were equals now. Her the published novelist, me the tenured academic at the prestigious college.

Sarah wasn’t anything yet, by her own admission. She had high hopes but now she was just a student. A talented one, I knew. The best writer in her class, I thought, though other professors disagreed.

“That’s a giveaway, too,” my wife remarked while making dinner.

“How so?” I asked.

“She does all her best writing for you.”

“Maybe,” I said. But I knew that couldn’t be completely true from what I had in front of me. An aimless flash fiction piece about a farm. I gave her a note on the first piece she turned in to focus on clarity above all. She took it, but now seemed to have regressed. I simply couldn’t follow it. What’s more there seemed to be a stain of some kind on the paper. Ketchup maybe? SLOPPY, I wrote at the top. C.

“That’ll do it,” my wife said under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I handed my class their papers back the next day. Normally an active participant, Sarah was quiet. Not a word when she left either. I made a point to smile at her and tell her to have a nice day. She made a point not to smile at me. Walked out in a huff. I chuckled to myself. Talented people are always fragile when they’re young. My wife certainly was.

I was looking through a thesis proposal in my office when Sarah knocked on my door.

“Come on in,” I said. She was still in a mood. And she wanted me to know it. She had dyed her hair blonde recently. I don’t know when. Maybe a week ago. She had a backpack on and kept it on when she sat down across from my desk. It made her look even smaller than she was, crammed into that shitty old tweed cushioned chair.

“What can I do for you?”

She tossed her essay on the table.

“Sloppy?”

“I thought it was sloppy.”

“It’s not sloppy.”

“I thought it was.”

“The assignment was to be experimental. That was the whole thing.”

“You can be experimental and clear.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“All writing is bullshit.”

“Oh, shut up.”

She meant for this to shock me, but it didn’t. I like when students push back at me. I like when students challenge my expertise. I like the tug of war. The tension. All my best students challenged me in some way. And Sarah was on her way to being one of my best.

“Do you talk to all your professors this way?”

“No.”

“You just don’t think I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Are you going to tell me to stop?”

“No.”

“So what are we talking about then?”

She wanted a rise out of me and was frustrated that she didn’t get it. I could see it in her eyes and her frustrated hands tugging on the straps of her backpack.

“Look. I am a professional reader who occasionally writes. That’s what academics are. I read all the time. I mostly read the writing of amateurs. I can tell when someone has not done their best work. This is not your best work. I think you agree with me.”

“Yes. I know it’s not my best but I think it’s unfair that I’m being penalized for not doing my best when I did actually try to do a good job.”

“Did you?”

“Yes! I did! And I think this thing teachers do where they give their best students worse grades because they want to challenge them is bullshit. I’m the best writer in your class.”

“I agree.”

“So don’t you think this is unfair?”

As she said it, she leaned forward over my desk and pressed her finger against the C I wrote at the top of the paper. That’s when it happened. Time slowed as my eyes went from her finger up her arm to her white button down shirt. Some combination of the angle of my chair and the loose fabric of her top allowed me to see right down her shirt to her beige push up bra holding her breasts in perfect plump circles. I couldn’t help myself. I had done this in class, I admit. But never for very long and never when she was looking right at me. But now, I lingered too long. And when I looked up, I found her eyes already fixed on mine. And at that moment, I lost the upper-hand.

She sat back in that old chair and didn’t say a word. I suddenly felt like the student. Flustered and unsure of what to say.

“So…look,” I stammered. “This is your lowest grade. I always drop the lowest grade at the end of the term. If you keep your normal level of work up it won’t have any effect on your final grade.”

“I know it won’t. But I don’t want it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dirty.”

“What is?”

“The C. I’d rather another A get dropped.”

“So what do you propose?”

“It’s your class. Tell me what to do.”

She sat back and ran her hands through her blonde hair. She was comfortable now. She knew the power she had over me. And she liked it.

On the inside I was laughing at myself. Why was I acting like such a child all of a sudden? I would have been embarrassed, except something about the power change was exciting. I wanted her to convince me to change the grade. I wanted to lose to her.

“I’m open to ideas,” I said.

She stared at me just for a moment. Then rose from the chair, dropped her backpack beside it, and walked to the door of my office. She stared at me when she closed the door and locked it. Her consent. And I said nothing. My consent.

She walked across the room. I could see her whole body now. White low top sneakers. No visible socks. Small ankles. Smooth shaved legs. A grey skirt a few inches above the knee. She walked around my desk. I moved my chair back and she sat on top of my desk facing me. Her knees together and touching.

“Did you dress like that on purpose?”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Like a school girl?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think?”

“Spread your legs.”

“Not until you change my grade.” She smiled at me. Easy and effortless. I wondered if I was the first teacher she’d had her way with. I felt blood move to my dick at the thought.

I didn’t say anything. Only turned to my computer and opened the grade logging software. I found her grade and deleted the C. Then retracted my hand.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve taken out the C.”

“So make it an A.”

“You want an A?”

“Yes.”

“Earn it.”

I couldn’t help it. I liked being under her control, but when I found another card to play, I had to play it.

She ran her hands through her hair again, but this time, she pulled a hair tie off her wrist and bound her hair in a high pony tail. Then sank to her knees. I sat back as she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants. She tugged on my pants and I sat up a little and she pulled them down to my ankles. Then she pulled the top of my boxers down. My dick sprang out at her. Already hard and leaking. She stared at me again, then slowly moved her head forward, never taking her eyes off mine, and she took the head of my dick in her mouth.

“Fuck,” I moaned. And she began to bob up and down. Slowly.

My dick looked big in her small mouth. She had me now. I’d give her any grade she wanted. Did she know that I had lost completely? Or did she think I had another trick up my sleeve?

She took my dick out of her mouth and took it in her hand and licked from the base of my shaft to the head then stroked me and stared at me.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Have you done this with other professors?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you want to?”

“I would.”

“Have you wanted to with me?”

“Yes.”

She took me back in her mouth and moved up and down on my shaft faster and deeper. I could feel myself getting close. But I didn’t want to come yet. I wanted more. I wanted to know her body. I wanted to see it. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to taste it. All these thoughts brought me even closer.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you always come this fast?”

“Not always.”

“Where do you want to come?”

“That depends on what grade you want.”

“Tits.”

“B.”

“Ass.”

“B+.”

“Face.”

“B+.”

“You’re an asshole.” She smiled as she said it.

She was being too careful. If she had just told me where to come I would have given her an A. Maybe this really was her first time with a teacher.

“How do I get an A?”

“Sit on the desk.” She let go of my dick and sat on the desk. “Spread your legs.” She spread them. Plain blue underwear with a dark spot over her pussy. “You’re wet, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you.”

“Will it give me an A?”

“Yes.”

“Then fuck me.”

I pulled her off the desk and pulled her panties down from under her skirt. Then picked her up and sat her on the desk and pushed her legs apart. I felt the muscles in her thighs tense.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“Do it.”

I slid my dick inside her. It went in easy and smooth. I picked up the pace quickly. Thrusting into her. Faster and faster. Now she started to moan. Louder with each thrust. I grabbed her face and pulled it closer to mine.

“Don’t fake it. You hear me?” Her moans stopped. She just stared at me. I was getting closer. “Does it feel good?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“But you won’t come like this?”

“No.”

“What would make you come?”

“I’d have to touch my clit.”

“Do it.”

She moved her hand down to her pussy and started rubbing around her clit in a circle with the pads of her fingers. Then she really started to moan. Quietly.

“Am I the best writer in my class?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

“Say it again.”

“You’re the best writer in my class.”

“Do you fantasize about fucking me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you jerk off when you think about me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think about me when you fuck your wife?”

“Yes.”

And I felt her pussy start to tense. Then her eyes shut tight. She wrapped her legs around me tightly and pulled me in deep. The backs of her sneakers dug into my bare ass. And she came quietly.

As she relaxed I kept thrusting. I don’t know how I held back. But I was close. And there was nothing else to wait for now.

“Are you close?”

“Yes.” I kept thrusting. “Do you want to make me come?”

“Yes.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“You wanna come inside me?”

“Yes.” She didn’t say anything else. “Fuck, I’m close. Are you on birth control?”

“You’re gonna have to guess.”

I was so close.

“Come on.” She whispered it. So quietly. Her hot breath in my ear. “Come.”

And then I came. I pushed my dick as deep as I could go as my cum shot into her. Wanting to fuck her even harder. Wanting to tear her in half. Wanting to consume her completely.

I finally started to cool down. I pulled my still hard dick. Some of my cum dripped out of her and onto the carpet below as I fell back into my chair.

“Well?” She asked.

“What.”

“Did I earn it?”

I reached over to my keyboard and typed A.

She pulled her panties up and pulled her skirt back down to her waist. Then grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder.

“I am on birth control.”

She winked at me. And walked out.

I drove home. Still buzzing from the experience. Jittery from the fear that she could end my career, but also enjoying the thrill. I was getting excited again thinking about Sarah sitting in class the next day. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About her body. About all the parts of it I didn’t know yet. She had the power now. I liked it that way.

My wife was lounging on the couch when I got home. She wore just a tank top and panties while she watched some mindless show and scrolled her phone. I sat down next to her. She stretched her feet over me and placed them in my lap. Then felt my swollen dick.

“Oh. Hello.” She said.

“What?” I played dumb.

“You got something on your mind?”

“Maybe.”

She lightly rubbed her feet against my dick. I got harder. Then she crawled from her side of the couch over to me. Kissed me. Then licked my neck and unbuckled my pants. Took my dick out and put it in her mouth. Then stopped. Licked it again. Sucked it again. Tasted it. Then finally looked up at me.

“Was it Sarah?”

“Yeah.”

“It was the C wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“I told you she was dangerous.”

And then she took my dick in her mouth. Tasting Sarah’s pussy and my cum. And loving it.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/wc13kf/sarah_was_dangerous_m46f20_teacherstudent