LOGINThe moment Doctor Adrian Cole put his hand on my chest to check my heartbeat, I knew I was in trouble, because my heart was beating too fast for a girl who was supposed to be sick.My name is Maya, and I was twenty-six years old, lying on a hospital bed with tubes in my arm, and I was not supposed to be looking at my doctor like that. But he was tall, and his eyes were dark brown, and when he leaned close to listen to my chest with his stethoscope, I could smell his cologne, something clean like soap and something warm underneath it."Breathe in for me," he said. His voice was low and calm, the kind of voice that made you trust him even when you shouldn't.I breathed in. My chest rose. His eyes flicked down for just one second, then back up to my face, like he caught himself doing something wrong.I had been in this hospital for four days. A bad fever, the doctors said, something they still could not name. Every morning Doctor Cole came to check on me, and every morning I found a new
I stood there frozen with James’s cum still dripping down my thigh while the maintenance guy knocked again. Harder this time.“Professor Harlan? You okay? I heard noises.”James looked at me. His eyes were wide but the corner of his mouth twitched. I pressed both hands over my mouth so I would not moan or scream. This was insane. I had just let my professor fuck me on his desk and now some guy with a toolbox was two feet away from catching us.James cleared his throat. His voice came out surprisingly steady. “Yeah I’m fine. Just... dropped a stack of books. Heavy ones. I will be out in a minute.”I gave him a look that said you are a terrible liar. He shrugged like what else was he supposed to say? I quickly wiped between my legs with some tissues and fixed my skirt. My legs still felt shaky. James buttoned his shirt and tried to smooth his hair. We both looked guilty as hell.The guy outside mumbled something about coming back later. His footsteps faded down the hall. I let out a lon
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The lock clicked. Rain pounded harder against the window like it wanted to drown out everything else.I sat there on his desk with my skirt still a mess and my face warm from what I had just done to myself. My fingers still smelled like my cunt.James looked at me. His eyes went straight to my open legs then back up to my face. "You started without me."I shrugged even though my heart was racing. "I told you I could not wait."He let out a short laugh and shook his head. The sound was low and rough. "Most students come to office hours for grades. You come here to finger yourself in my chair."The words made me blush but they also made me wetter. I liked that he said it out loud. "Your chair is comfortable. And I was thinking about your cock."He crossed the room fast. His hand went to my knee and slid up my thigh. "You are going to get me fired.""You are the one who kissed me first." I reached for his belt again. This time I got it op
I could not focus in class again. My eyes kept going back to Professor James Harlan no matter how hard I tried to stop.He stood at the front in his blue shirt talking about research methods. The sleeves were rolled up showing his strong arms. His chest looked broad and solid under the fabric. Lower down his trousers stretched tight over his thighs and that impressive bulge. I swallowed hard and felt my face get warm.I had been having dirty dreams about him almost every night. In those dreams he pushed me onto the classroom table and fucked me hard after class ended. Or he locked his office door and took me right on his desk. His hands on my hips. His cock filling me up. Those thoughts made my cunt wet and throbbing. I squeezed my thighs together under the desk. My panties were already damp.Elena you should not think like this I told myself. He is your professor. This is forbidden. But my body did not listen. My cunt throbbed even more. I shifted in my seat and tried to take notes b
He advanced. She did not retreat.Three measured steps closed the space between them. Maya’s back met the edge of the cleared table with a soft thud. Her pulse hammered so hard she could feel it in her throat, in her wrists, and low between her legs where heat had already begun to gather. Harlan’s hands found her waist first—firm, certain, the same hands that handled rare volumes like they might shatter. Then they slid up under her sweater. Cool fingers against warm skin. The fabric bunched at her ribs. She lifted her arms without being asked, heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out.The sweater came off in one imperfect tug that left her hair static-wild and sticking to her cheek. She caught a glimpse of herself in the darkened glass of a nearby display case: flushed, wide-eyed, bra slightly askew. Harlan’s belt buckle snagged on the button of her jeans. He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a cataloguing curse—“Fucking interfiled—” while sh
Maya Chen spent the night conducting a full-scale strategic retreat inside her own skull. Sleep was a theoretical concept she abandoned sometime after 1:17 a.m., when the fluorescent after-image of Mr. Harlan’s journal-shaped thigh imprint refused to leave the backs of her eyelids. By 2:30 she had drafted, revised, and discarded seventeen contingency plans, each more elaborate than the last.Plan A: Transfer schools. Preferably to one without a library. Or books. Or middle-aged men. Plan B: Claim temporary blindness caused by “acute photophobia triggered by institutional lighting.” She even practiced the medical-sounding phrase in the mirror until it stopped sounding like a bad student film. Plan C: Invent a sudden, crippling allergy to the Dewey Decimal System. Symptoms would include hives, labored breathing, and an uncontrollable urge to flee any building that smelled of old paper. Plan D involved a fake cast on her dominant arm and a carefully rehearsed story about a tragic s
Mira froze beneath Kevin, her body still clenching around his cock. Kevin went rigid, buried deep inside her.The door clicked shut. Footsteps sounded in the hallway.“Mira? You home? I brought the wine you...oh shit.”Lena stood in the living room entrance, keys still in one hand, a bottle of red
Mira stood at the kitchen counter, rinsing the last of the dinner plates. The house felt too large and too quiet with Daniel away for the next ten days. She had already worked late three evenings in a row just to avoid coming home to the empty rooms. Tonight she had given up and cooked anyway, a si
Amila’s heart raced as she sat on the edge of the examination table in Dr. Sean’s private clinic. The room smelled of antiseptic and his subtle cologne. A crisp, masculine scent that had haunted her fantasies for the past two years. At twenty, she was no longer the shy teenager who accompanied her
Emma’s phone buzzed on her nightstand. She smiled despite the faint headache she’d used as an excuse to skip morning classes. The message from Alex was simple: Heard you’re sick. Jordan and I are coming over with soup and meds. Text your address. She replied quickly, heart already racing. Her pare







