Home / Romance / HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL / 1: Grind The Stranger

Share

HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL
HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL
Author: StoriesByLily

1: Grind The Stranger

Author: StoriesByLily
last update Last Updated: 2025-08-01 18:46:08

IMANI WHITE

I can't believe I was doing this.

But even though I knew this was irrational and stupid and that he would probably dismiss me, make me feel small, and end up being a laughing stock, I still had to go ahead with it.

Because the other option was worse—getting tagged as a prude by my new friends—it was losing my new college friends that I barely managed to secure. This was like a rite of passage to prove myself worthy of their friendship.

And you think they will stick with you if you can't get the man to agree?

My heart pounded faster, but I couldn't back down. I could still hear the hype and cheers over the loud bar music as I made my way to the lone stranger in the private part of the lounge.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can't…

I realized this when I stepped into his space. He was sitting alone, a half-empty glass and a bottle in front of him. Looking up close at him now, I realized he was older than I thought. He had to be in his late 30s, and he was devastatingly handsome.

And there was no way someone like him would allow me to touch him.

I looked at the clique that dared me. They were sitting in the public area of the lounge and staring expectantly at me. They could see me because I was standing, but they could only see the stranger's head because he was sitting, and the lower partition wasn't see-through like the upper one, which was glass.

“How may I help you?” The voice brought me back to the present, and I looked away from my friends-to-be to the stranger. He was looking at me, brows arched, face blank.

My heart raced faster, and my palms grew clammy.

I can't do this.

This was stupid. Unethical. It was what loose, uncultured girls do. I wasn't uncultured and shouldn't be doing this because I wanted to prove myself to a bunch of girls I met two days ago. I should leave.

But I couldn't leave.

This was my first shot at friendship. I couldn't disappoint them when all they wanted was for me to grind this stranger and prove that I was worthy of being their friend. They weren't asking for too much—just a five-minute lap dance.

If I should leave now, I would prove myself a loser and a prude who didn't deserve any friends, and it wouldn't end there. The news would spread across the school. Other girls wouldn't want to be my friend. The boys would point at me and snicker. I would become a loner who finds dead rats in her locker and stabs pictures of herself as a Valentine's gift.

I've tasted it before.

That sting of loneliness, the bite of being an outcast. I knew what it felt like to be alone and lonely, to go to High School every day knowing that it was nothing more than a war zone.

College was my clean slate, and I was determined to prove myself, start over, and have a girls’ group that would like and revere me.

This was just a necessary evil.

Except that it wasn't easy. My tongue remained glued to the roof of my mouth as I stared at the man. He was still looking at me, his face impassive, and with a face like that, it felt like I couldn't do anything.

“I… I’m sorry, but my… My friends asked me… It was a dare to grind a stranger for a couple of minutes. I know it's stupid, and you don't have to agree. I'm just sorry to… I’m sorry to disturb you like this.”

I rasped out till it felt like I was out of breath, and I was practically gasping. He didn't say anything, and I expected him to laugh at my face, call me a stupid, fat girl, and throw me out.

But he didn't do that. Instead, he pushed the small table out of the way and leaned further back against the cushioned chair.

It took seconds to understand that he was inviting me to climb onto his lap.

“Go ahead,” his voice sounded like a command, one that propelled my legs forward before I could even think. I glanced briefly at my friends again and their expectant and admirative look fuelled me.

They were going to like me.

I climbed onto his lap, and my problems took a completely different turn. His scent took over my senses, and it was something ancient and woody, along with the firmness of his body, with its tight muscles and strong biceps.

And him… I mean, him, down there, beneath my core. I could feel it because I was sitting on him, and it felt… It felt like I was sitting on him without anything on.

“Are you not going to move?” his voice has turned deeper, huskier that it felt like it was full of sin and filthy things.

I started to move, slowly by rotating my hips back and forth, then moving them back and slamming them against him.

He didn't look away from me for once, and I couldn't close my eyes. I expected it to be embarrassing, but instead, it felt liberating, and the more I moved, the more emboldened I felt. I let loose and moved faster, slamming myself against him, bouncing on him, rocking him till it hardened into a thickness that I could feel, and rocking against him like that made a moan slip out of my mouth.

His eyes darkened and dropped to my lips as if he wanted to capture the sound and hear it forever, and also as if he wanted to wreck my lips. There was a feral hunger in his eyes as he stared at my lips, and the intensity scared me so much I bolted off his lap.

I didn't look back. I walked with wobbly feet to my friends, and I ignored how hot and bothered I felt. Ignored the fact that my panties were sticking to my pussy, and I ignored the fact that I was thinking of riding him like that without any clothes on.

I closed my eyes. The best part was that I would never see him again. I couldn't handle ever seeing him again.

When I arrived at our table, I expected to see my friends cheering and hyping him, but Tami and Jessica handed $20 notes to Davina instead, and they did not pay me any attention.

“Well, that was surprising,” Tami said as she sipped from her drink. I made a bet that you wouldn't even go ahead with it at all.”

What? My legs turned into half jelly.

“And I made a bet that the man you pick would turn you away because I mean,” Jessica paused to eye me up and down, and the disgust in her eyes was clear: " Who would want a girl like you?”

My legs gave way beneath me, and I dissolved into the chair like a house of cards. I couldn't believe this. They were my friends. They possibly couldn't have done this to me.

“And I bet that you'd go ahead with it,” Davina said casually, “I mean, we've heard about the kind of prude and loser that you are in Zenith High, but I assumed you should have gotten some kind of character growth. Thank you for not disappointing me and earning me a week’s matcha money.”

She held the bills up triumphantly while my head spun. I couldn't believe what they were saying. I couldn't believe anything. I couldn't believe they stood up and left me like that. The girls I thought were my new friends, the girls I threw my morals away to please.

Continue to read this book for free
Scan code to download App

Latest chapter

  • HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL   4: He's My New Step-uncle

    I barely managed to remain still in class. My stomach wouldn't stop rumbling. I needed to throw up. I needed to use the toilet. I needed to splash water on my face. I needed to breathe. I couldn't hear anything at all. I couldn't even hear anything. My heart was pounding, and my blood was thumping so fast. How was this possible? How could this be possible? The only time I decide to be reckless and throw manners away, it came to bite me in the ass in the most horrible way possible. How was this even possible? How was… I tried to still my heart pounding, tried to focus. It couldn't be as bad as I was making it out to be. We were in a class of 50, and it shouldn't have been that difficult to make myself unnoticeable. I'd refrain from asking or answering questions, and the semester would be over before I knew it. Yes, that sounded nice. My heart slowed down at the conclusion, and the only solution, and my body relaxed. “So that marks the end of our first lecture,” my heart danced at

  • HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL   3: He's My New Professor

    IMANII stumbled back home, the pain in my wrist worsening at first and the red mark burning brighter. It only dulled when I got closer to home and paled completely when I entered the four walls of the hell I called home. Mom was waiting for me in the sitting room, and she shot up immediately when she saw me. Her eyes blazed daggers into my soul, even though I was used to this… Even though I should be used to this by now, I still trembled in front of her. “And why were you late?” Her tone mirrored her expression. “I… I was… I hung up with my new friends, and we kind of lost track of time.”“Your new friends?” she chuckled, but there was nothing amusing about the sound as she stalked closer to me. " Haven't I made it clear that you don't need any other friends but me?”Yeah, she made it perfectly clear by repeating it over and over, enforcing it in the way I couldn't go to sleepovers or hang out with my classmates. That was the beginning of the problems. Alienating myself from my cl

  • HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL   2: Fucked in his Car

    IMANII drank. I've never been that much of a drinker. I only drank whenever it was necessary, and that was only when I needed to prove to other girls and acquaintances that I could drink, that I was a cool girl. But now, even though I didn't need to prove anything to anyone, I couldn't help but drink. It was the only way to dull the ache in my chest, it was the only way for me not to feel what I was feeling, it was the only way for me to forget that I've been pranked and betted on and treated like dirt again. No one will ever love you. You're just an ugly, fat girl; no one will ever want you. All my life, I've always wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to prove to her that I was capable of being loved and wanted… Of having friends, a man who'd worship the ground I walk on, and everything that I've always wanted. But no matter how hard I tried, it always ended in a disaster. I always ended up getting discarded and treated like trash, ridiculed, and churned out. No matter how hard

  • HER PROFESSOR'S GOOD GIRL   1: Grind The Stranger

    IMANI WHITEI can't believe I was doing this. But even though I knew this was irrational and stupid and that he would probably dismiss me, make me feel small, and end up being a laughing stock, I still had to go ahead with it. Because the other option was worse—getting tagged as a prude by my new friends—it was losing my new college friends that I barely managed to secure. This was like a rite of passage to prove myself worthy of their friendship. And you think they will stick with you if you can't get the man to agree? My heart pounded faster, but I couldn't back down. I could still hear the hype and cheers over the loud bar music as I made my way to the lone stranger in the private part of the lounge. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can't… I realized this when I stepped into his space. He was sitting alone, a half-empty glass and a bottle in front of him. Looking up close at him now, I realized he was older than I thought. He had to be in his late 30s, and he wa

More Chapters
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on GoodNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP
DMCA.com Protection Status