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"Hello? Maintenance. Anyone still in here?"A male voice. Older. The janitor making his rounds.I stayed perfectly still, bent over Isla, my hand still covering her mouth, my dick throbbing inside her. We were partially hidden by the podium, but if he came down the stairs, if he walked past the first few rows—"Lights are still on," the janitor muttered to himself.I felt Isla's heart hammering against my chest. Felt her breath coming in short, panicked gasps against my palm. Felt her pussy clench around me, and Christ, she was getting wetter, turned on by the danger of it.Footsteps on the stairs. Coming closer.Every muscle in my body tensed. If he caught us—if he saw a professor balls-deep in a student—My cock twitched inside her. The forbidden thrill of it, the absolute insanity of staying frozen like this while an erection pulsed inside her tight heat—it was the most intense thing I'd ever felt.Isla's eyes met mine, wide and terrified and aroused all at once.The footsteps stop
PROFESSOR'S POV;"Yes," she hissed, her hips rolling against my hand. "Please, I need—""What do you think about during my lectures, Isla?" I demanded, curling my fingers to hit that sweet spot that made her gasp. "Tell me.""I—fuck—I think about you bending me over this desk," she admitted, her voice shaking. "About you pulling down my panties and fucking me while everyone watches. I think about getting on my knees under this podium and sucking your cock while you teach. I think about—oh god—"I added a third finger, stretching her, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out."Keep going," I ordered, my own breathing ragged. "Tell me every dirty thought that goes through that pretty head while you're sitting there taking notes.""I imagine you calling me up to the board," she panted, "and everyone seeing how wet my panties are. I imagine you keeping me after class and punishing me for being such a distraction. I imagine—" Her words cut off in a choked moan as I fucked her h
PROFESSOR'S POV;I thought once would be enough.I thought fucking Isla on my desk would satisfy this sick craving and I could go back to being the respectable professor everyone believed I was. That I could look at her in class without my cock hardening. That I could hear her voice without remembering how she screamed my name.I was wrong. So fucking wrong.Because now that I'd tasted her, felt her tight little pussy clench around my cock, heard those desperate whimpers as she begged me not to stop—I was addicted. And addicts don't quit after just one hit.It had been three days since she'd been in my office. Three days of torture sitting through faculty meetings while my mind replayed every detail: the way she looked bent over my desk, the wet sounds of my cock driving into her, the smell of sex that lingered in my office for hours afterward.I jerked off in the shower that morning thinking about her. Twice. And still showed up to my evening Ethics lecture with a semi that wouldn't
She didn't hesitate. The second the lock clicked into place, I grabbed her hips and spun her around, bending her over my desk exactly like I'd fantasized."This is your last chance to walk away," I said, my hands gripping her ass through that tight skirt. "Once I start, I'm not stopping until I've fucked you in every position on this desk and you're dripping with my cum. Understand?""Yes," she gasped, pushing her ass back against my erection. "God, yes. Please, I need it."I flipped up her skirt, revealing those black lace panties that had been taunting me. They were already soaked through."Fuck, you're wet," I groaned, running my finger along her covered slit. She trembled under my touch. "How long have you been this wet for me, Isla?""Every class," she admitted, her voice breaking. "Every time you look at me. Every time you say my name. I go home and touch myself thinking about you."Jesus Christ.I ripped her panties off—literally tore them away—and she cried out in surprise and
1Professor Marcus Bennett's POVI'm going to hell for this. I know I am.But when Isla walked into my office wearing that skirt—that fucking skirt that barely covered her ass—I stopped caring about salvation, tenure, or the ethical code I'd signed when I became a professor at this university.All I could think about was bending her over my mahogany desk and making her scream my name while I fucked every ounce of innocence out of her tight little body.God forgive me, but I'd been fantasizing about it for weeks.Every Tuesday and Thursday when she sat in the front row of my Ethics and Philosophy lecture—the irony wasn't lost on me—crossing those long, smooth legs that seemed to go on forever. Every time she bit that plump bottom lip while taking notes. Every time she stayed after class to ask questions, standing just a little too close, her perfume invading my senses and making my cock strain against my slacks.I told myself it was nothing. That I was a professional. That she was my s
I moaned. “Oh Nathan. Fuck yeah.”Then footsteps on the stairs. Mia’s voice, closer. “Nathan? You up? I’m coming in if you don’t answer!”Nahan’s eyes flashed. He yanked me off the bed, dragged me into the bathroom, and locked the door behind us. The shower was already running in a second, the steam almost foggy, water pounding loud enough to cover almost anything.He pressed me against the sink, back to his chest. One hand clamped over my mouth. The other yanked my panties down to my thighs.Mia knocked on the bedroom door. “Nathan? Seriously, if you’re alive in there, say something. I’m not cleaning up your dead body today.”Nathan’s voice was steady, casual. “Yeah, showering. Be down in ten.”Mia groaned. “Ugh, fine. But if you’ve got a girl in there, at least warn me next time. I don’t want to walk in on your nasty ass.”She paused. “Wait… is that… moaning? Ew. Whatever. I’m out.”Her footsteps retreated and the door closed.Nathan didn’t wait. He bent me over the sink. Spread my







