TRAPPED

Professor Reed’s POV

I stood frozen in Clara’s bathroom, heart pounding so hard I could hear it echoing in my ears like a war drum.

My back was pressed against the cold tiled wall, my clothes clutched tightly in one hand, my still-hard cock throbbing painfully from being pulled out of Clara’s tight, wet pussy just moments ago. The taste of both girls lingered on my tongue — sweet, salty, addictive. My body was still buzzing with adrenaline and unfinished lust, every nerve ending screaming for release.

But now, all I felt was raw, ice-cold fear.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I could hear Clara’s mother just outside the bedroom door, her voice clear and growing more suspicious with every word.

“Clara? What’s going on in there? I heard strange noises. Open the door right now!”

Clara’s voice came back, shaky but trying desperately to sound normal. “I’m coming, Mom! Just a second!”

I quickly pulled on my pants, fingers fumbling with the zipper. My hands were trembling so badly I almost dropped my shirt. Sweat was already beading on my forehead. If her mother walked in and found me here — the respected Criminal Law professor hiding half-naked in her daughter’s room while two of my students were clearly in the middle of something filthy and depraved — my entire career would be destroyed in seconds. My reputation. My future. Everything I had built.

I pressed my ear harder against the bathroom door, barely daring to breathe.

I could hear frantic movement in the bedroom. Clothes rustling. Kendra’s panicked whispers. The sound of the laptop being opened quickly.

Then the bedroom door creaked open.

“Mom,” Clara said, sounding breathless. “We were just working on our project. It got a little loud because we were acting out some scenes for better understanding.”

Her mother didn’t sound convinced. “It sounded like… moaning. Are you sure everything is okay in there?”

“Yes, Mom,” Clara replied quickly. “We’re fine. Kendra and I are just really passionate about this assignment.”

Passionate. What a fucking understatement. My cock twitched again at the memory of how passionately they had been devouring each other.

I closed my eyes, sweat trickling down my back. I could hear Kendra trying to sound normal. “Good evening, ma’am. We’re almost done. I’ll start packing up now.”

Good girl, I thought desperately. Keep her distracted. Buy us time.

But then Clara’s mother spoke again, her voice closer to the bathroom door. “Kendra, it’s getting late. You should start heading home soon. It’s not safe for a young girl to be out too late.”

A small wave of relief washed over me — at least one of them was leaving.

But then came the words that made my stomach drop like a stone:

“Clara, come help me in the kitchen for a bit. I need your help with something.”

No. No, no, no.

I heard Clara’s hesitant footsteps, then the bedroom door closing again. The house grew quieter.

I was trapped.

I stood there in the dark bathroom, cock still half-hard and aching from the interrupted fuck, breathing shallow and fast. The fear was real now. If Clara’s mother decided to check the bathroom for any reason — if she needed something, or if she got suspicious about the strange atmosphere — I was finished.

I pressed my forehead against the cool door, trying to calm my racing heart and the rising panic.

Come on, Clara… get her away from here. Distract her.

But minutes dragged on. I could faintly hear voices from the kitchen — Clara and her mother talking about normal, everyday things. Nothing alarming.

Yet.

I was still hiding. Still half-naked. Still completely vulnerable.

And the terrifying part was… even with all this fear flooding my system, my cock was still twitching at the memory of how good both girls had felt wrapped around me.

I was playing with fire.

And for the first time, I was starting to realize just how badly I could get burned.