The College Professor [20F/35M] [Noncon] [Age Gap] [Control]

*All characters are over the age of 18*

*This is from The Book of Florence by Luna Lust. If you like this, please consider checking out the rest of the series on GumRoad.*

I remember the day Mr. Miller smiled at me differently than usual. His face remained friendly, but there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. A hunger. I didn’t recognise it at the time but felt myself flush regardless.

His shirt was fitted against his broad chest, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. I remember watching his forearms as he handed me back my essay, unsure of why I enjoyed them so much but savouring them anyway. A scruff of dark facial hair ran across his jaw. He was the teacher that girls would swoon over, giggling and whispering to each other; “he is SO hot!”. So, when he looked at me that day, hungry, I was flattered and smiled back.

“Florence,” he called as our class was filing out. “I need a word with you.”

“Oooh,” the rest of the class laughed as I blushed furiously. “Flo’s in trouble!”

I lingered awkwardly, pulling the sleeves of my blazer over my hands as they left, leaving the two of us. Mr. Miller smiled and leaned against his desk.

“Relax, Florence,” he said. “You’re not in trouble.”

He crossed his arms and trailed his eyes over me. It wasn’t the first time I had seen that look in a man but it was the first time it caused butterflies to break out in my stomach. I lowered my eyes, wishing I could shake off my awkwardness but thoroughly enjoying his laser focussed attention, even if I didn’t know what to do with it.

“However,” Mr. Miller broke the silence eventually. “Your last essay wasn’t quite the standards I expect from you.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I looked up, crestfallen at the idea of his disappointment, but he didn’t seem overly displeased.

He pushed himself off his desk and crossed the few steps between us; close enough to set my heart thumping but far enough away to appear innocuous to any passer-by’s.

“It’s nothing serious. But you’ll need some extra tutoring,” he explained, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m happy to do so after school today.”

“Oh,” I swallowed, but wasn’t sure what else he wanted me to say. Extra tutoring? Had I really done so bad on the essay? I managed to make myself match his eye contact, aware of how much taller he was than me.

“Here’s my address,” he said, apparently unbothered by my uncertainty, and passed me a small piece of paper. “Come around about 6pm. Make sure you’re wearing your uniform. As it’s official school business.”

“Of course, sir,” I clutched the paper to my chest and left quickly, breathless.

The hours before I was due to arrive at his house, I spent hours scouring the internet on what to do. There was something that felt inappropriate about it but it didn’t seem very important – we were both adults, right? Even if he was much older than me.

I gnawed my bottom lip as I scrolled, agonising over what would happen at this extra tutoring. I read a few articles that said going braless would be a subtle way of drawing his attention, which made sense to me. I wanted his attention, badly, but he was still my professor; he wouldn’t actually do anything, would he?

In the end, I opted for braless and made my way over to his house. An hour later, we were sat on his sofa, a large glass of wine in my hand. I’d never really drank alcohol before but I wanted to look sophisticated so I tentatively sipped at the dark liquid. Mr. Miller smiled when I did so, which encouraged me to take a larger gulp. It didn’t taste too bad after a while.

“Your friends call you Flo,” Mr. Miller said. “Do you mind if I call you that as well?”

Heat crept up to my cheeks.

“Of course, sir,” I took another sip of wine. “Are we… friends?”

He smiled at me, with that hunger in his eyes again. Not for the first time, I felt like prey under a predators gaze.

“I’d like to be more than friends, Flo,” he reached out to brush a thumb across my cheek. He was so close I could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating.

“More than friends?” I breathed. My heart thumped against my ribcage.

“But it would need to be a secret,” he whispered, his face inches from mine. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I nodded, closing my eyes. “I would do anything for you, sir.”

I remember the feel of his lips on mine, the roughness of his stubble at odds with the softness of his mouth in a way that warmed every inch of me. He cupped my face and pushed me back on the sofa until I lay underneath him. I felt so small beneath his form, so completely powerless under the weight of him.

He kissed me deeply, hungrily, but with a slowness that suggested he was savouring it. I arched my back, feeling so desired that I wanted to close every inch between us.

“Yes,” he moaned, moving from my mouth to my neck. “Good girl.”

I raised my chin, allowing him better access to the delicate skin of my neck as he licked across my windpipe and left a trail of kisses down to my collarbone. His hand moved from my face down to my waist before pushing underneath my blouse. I remembered I was braless when I felt the rough callouses on his hand as it closed over my breast.

“W-wait,” I gasped. “I’m not sure about this.”

I had never gone this far with anyone before, let alone someone fifteen years my senior, and a stab of fear cut through my excitement. But Mr. Miller only continued to fondle me.

“You wanted this,” he growled in my ear, his fingers now pinching my nipple in a way that sent a jolt through my body. “You came in here with no bra on, teasing me.”

His words conflicted me. Was I just a tease? Was I being unfair by flaunting my breasts and not allowing him to touch them?

Mr. Miller paid no mind to my hesitation, instead pushing up my blouse to expose both my breasts to him. I inhaled sharply, feeling the most exposed and vulnerable I’ve ever felt. I automatically raised my arm to cover myself but he grabbed my wrist, pinning it above me. I struggled against him.

“Please, sir!” I begged.

“You’ve been throwing yourself at me,” he kissed my neck with a gentleness that contradicted his rough words. “You wanted this so you can stop pretending and just enjoy it.”

I gave one last struggle before giving up, deflated at his superior strength and his words. I had wanted this. How many girls would kill to be in this position with Mr. Miller right now? He was right. I had teased him so it was only fair I let him have his way.

He felt me sag against him and kissed my lips again. I kissed him back.

“Good girl,” he murmured into my mouth. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

I nodded, tears threatening to spill. He re-positioned himself so he lay between my legs, forcing them apart. I couldn’t ignore the hardness pressing against my vulva; I was thankful that I had kept my underwear on, if not my bra.

Mr. Miller moved his mouth down to my nipples, capturing one in his mouth and sucking while his hand massaged the rest of my breast. Despite my fear, my body was aroused and I knew I was wet. My clit throbbed and I found myself grinding against his hardness.

“You want it, baby?” he pulled his mouth away and began unbuckling himself.

I nodded, tears spilling. I hated myself for it but I was desperate to orgasm. He pulled down his trousers and boxers just enough for his cock to spring free. I looked down but couldn’t see much in the semi-darkness; however, I felt it slap against my clit and involuntarily arched my back.

“Look at you spreading your legs for me,” he groaned, running a finger along my slit. “Look how wet you are for your teachers cock.”

“Please, sir,” I breathed.

“You want it?”

“Yes, sir. Please.”

I felt a pressure on my pussy as he lined up the head of his cock. It was already slick with precum.

“If you want to pass this year, you’re going to have these tutoring sessions with me every week,” he told me while his thumb stroked my clit.

“Oh, God,” I moaned. I was so close to coming I couldn’t think straight.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Yes. Please, sir,” I bucked my hips against his thumb but he used his other hand to press my hips against the sofa, keeping my hole in line with his cock. He pushed his head past my lips until it was at my entrance.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, sir,” I panted.

He kept up the steady circles on my clit, his thumb slick with my arousal, and began to push himself inside me.

I expected my first time to hurt, but it didn’t. I felt him stretch me, but I was so wet that it only provided further stimulation. He pushed his cock slightly further before pulling out and sliding back again, going deeper each time. The combination of his cock and him rubbing my clit sent me over the edge.

My body tensed as waves and waves of please coursed through me. Mr. Miller kept up his steady rhythm through my orgasm, keeping me pinned against the sofa.

“Good girl,” he grunted, only removing his thumb from my clit when a second orgasm had subsided. He began to pound at me, his pelvis slamming off mine as he buried himself as deep as he could go. His previous measured tenderness was gone, replaced with an animalistic desire. His hands groped my breasts roughly, slapping them and pinching my nipples. I let him do what he wanted, dazed from my orgasms, and obediently keeping my legs spread for him.

I heard his breathing quicken and a few seconds later, he buried himself fully as he came. I felt his cum deep inside me and wrapped my legs around his waist as he collapsed on top of me.

“Thank you, sir,” I whispered. “Thank you for fucking me.”

Mr. Miller raised his head to kiss me, his softness returning.

“Every week, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/xvelqo/the_college_professor_20f35m_noncon_age_gap