Sex With Professor Dean (Story 1)

~Lucy

A moan ripped out of me, raw, desperate, filthy.

"Fuuuck—Ethan."

My fingers gripped the edge of the table like it could save me, knuckles white, thighs trembling. 

He was behind me, buried deep, his cock slamming into my soaked pussy with unrelenting force, each thrust sending a shockwave through my spine.

My cheek pressed to the cold table, hair stuck to sweat-slick skin, but I didn’t care. Not when he was splitting me open like that.

"Harder," I hissed, my voice ragged. "Don’t stop. I can take it."

He growled, low and primal, his hands gripping my hips tight enough to bruise as he drove in again with his monster. 

I arched my back, reached behind with my left hand, spreading my ass wider for him, I wanted him deeper. I needed it.

Wet sounds echoed in the classroom , skin slapping skin, my slick cunt taking every inch of him, the obscene sound of his cum already dripping down my thighs from the first time he'd finished in me.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

I pushed back into him, meeting every thrust. “Fuck, yes. That’s it. That’s my cock now, isn’t it?”

"Say it again," he groaned, his voice strained, wrecked.

"Your dick’s mine. You fuck this pussy when I say."

He smacked my ass, hard and I moaned louder. My breasts swayed with every movement, nipples so sensitive they ached, pressed against the table.

"God, I love this cunt," he muttered, driving into me deeper than before.

My legs shook, but I held firm. I won't lose to him.

"Turn me around," I said, breathless but firm.

He blinked, dazed from fucking me like a man possessed, but he obeyed.

I swung one leg, then the other, until I was facing him, sitting on the desk, knees parted, glistening and flushed. 

My hands cupped his jaw. "You’re going to look at me now when you give it to me. Understand?"

"Yes, fuck, Lucy." His voice was hoarse.

I wrapped my legs around his neck, pulling him closer until my heels pressed into his back. “Then stop gawking and fuck me.”

He gripped my thighs, lined up, and slid back inside, slow at first, like he wanted to feel every inch. 

My head dropped back as I moaned, raw and loud, the angle perfect, the stretch overwhelming.

“God, you’re deep, right there, right fucking there... ”

His rhythm built, brutal and precise, the table rocking under us. I locked my legs tighter around him, my heels digging into his spine as his hands moved up my sides, up, up until they were cupping my breasts, thumbs flicking my nipples.

"Shit, Lucy," he panted, rolling them between his fingers. "You feel, fuck, you feel unreal."

I leaned back on my elbows, completely open for him, letting him see everything. Letting him watch me take it.

"This is my body you're losing your mind over," I said between moans. "So don’t even think about coming until I say."

His thrusts grew desperate, need dripping off him like sweat. 

My body rocked with each drive of his hips, his hands never leaving my breasts, squeezing, circling my nipples, obsessed with the way I made him feel.

I pulled him down by his shirt, lips at his ear. “You like watching these bounce for you, huh?”

He groaned, a broken, worshipful sound, and thrust harder, deeper.

My back lifted off the table, the whole world narrowing to the feel of him slamming into me, his mouth grazing my neck, his fingers teasing my nipples until I was moaning uncontrollably.

“Lucy.. shit... Lucy I’m close... ”

I grinned darkly. “Then hold it. I’m not done with you yet.”

His thrusts were getting sloppy, desperate but I held him there, squeezing with my thighs as I moaned into his ear, breath hot, words filthier than sin.

“You want to come so bad, don’t you?”

“God, yes, Lucy, please... ”

I pushed him back, slipping off the desk and dropping to my knees with a wicked smirk. 

His cock was flushed, dripping, twitching for release.

“Then let me taste you,” I whispered.

His hand went to my hair, but I slapped it away.

“No touching,” I said, licking slow, teasing. “Just stand there and bring it.”

His legs trembled as I wrapped my lips around him cock, taking him deep, working my mouth and tongue until he was groaning like a man possessed. 

I didn’t stop when he gasped, didn’t stop when his body jerked forward, I just let it happen.

And when he came, I let some of it fall, warm and slow across my chest, between my breasts.

I leaned back on my heels and looked up at him, breathless and smiling.

“Come taste yourself.”

He didn’t hesitate. He bent down, mouth hot and messy, tongue tracing every inch of skin he’d just marked with his orgasm. 

His fingers kneaded my breasts while his tongue made a sinful mess of them, spreading his own release over my skin.

I pulled him closer, lips at his ear.

“I love you,” I whispered, not even sure why the words slipped out. 

Then, the door creaked open.

We both froze.

A man stepped in. Not security. Not a student.

He looked older. Sharper. A professor, probably. Very handsome, muscular, I could see that through his tight shirt.

I’d slept with every professor in this department. But I had never seen him before.

He stared at us, me on the floor, naked from the waist up, Ethan still half-hard, both of us a mess of heat and sweat, and said nothing. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

He smiled, just barely.

Then shut the door behind him.

We thought he’d left.

Ethan was zipping up, the rest of the class acting like nothing ever happened. 

Click.

The door opened again.

He stepped in. Calm. Composed. As if he’d planned this moment down to the second.

Tall frame. Clean-cut jaw. Black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show off strong forearms. The kind of man who didn’t need to shout to own the room.

And then he spoke.

“I’ve heard about your... extracurricular activities,” he said, casually. His voice was deep, smooth, without a hint of judgment but still razor sharp. “The counselor warned me not to be fazed. It’s not my concern… so long as I don’t witness it myself.”

He looked right at me.

Not flinching. Not smiling. Just... looking. Unreadable.

“I’m Professor Dean,” he continued, addressing the room. “Your new marketing tutor. You’ve already managed to ruin my mood today. Hopefully tomorrow, you won’t.”

He turned to walk out. That was it. No fuss. No threats. 

The room burst into sarcastic applause, students laughing under their breath. 

The kind of laugh you hear when someone thinks they’ve already won the game.

But I didn’t laugh.

I wasn’t even listening.

My eyes were locked on him.

The way he moved. The way he spoke. He didn’t carry power, he was power.

And I wondered... what would it be like under those clothes?

How thick would he be? How deep could he go inside me?

Would he break character, even once, if I rode him until he begged?

My thighs pressed together beneath the desk.

God, he looked so good.

Too clean. Too cold. 

Men like that are always the wildest once they snap. And I wanted to be the reason he snapped.

My name is Lucy. I’m twenty-one. And I don’t play games I can’t win.

My first time? That was at seventeen. 

With a tutor I asked to ruin me.

Since then, I’ve learned something important, if you can make a man lose control, he’s yours.

Professor Dean?

He doesn’t know it yet.

But he’s already under my skin.

And soon?

He’ll be under me.

I smirked and flipped open my notebook, already planning how to make him mine.

“My next target,” I whispered. “Professor Dean.”