A Night With Professor Elliott

“Fuuuck—ahh!” I gasped, my voice cracking. “That’s it,” he groaned, one hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. “Tight little pussy taking my cock so greedily. You were made for this, weren’t you?” *** On campus, she is that timid nerd nobody notices, Oversized hoodies, black-rimmed glasses, quiet enough to fade into the background. Even when facing the notoriously strict Professor Elliott, she would only lower her head, and mutter incorrect phrases. But at night, she became the most intoxicating dancer in the club. She wrapped herself around the pole, bent low, whining her hips, each movement drove men below into a frenzy. Bills were stuffed into the strap around her thigh, eyes couldn’t help but notice her. To cover her mother’s medical bills and to escape poverty, she takes a private party offering an equally obscene payout. The light swept across his face— *** “Don't fight it. I am going to pay you ten times what they pay you here for the rest of the night,” he said with a low voice “If you let me fuck you.” Ten times. *** She knew it was wrong. This was her professor. Her best friend's uncle. The man whose house she’d visited years ago when they were trying to get into UAC. She wasn’t going to do this, never, besides, money couldn't buy her dignity, or could it?