In My Professor's Arms
The apartment’s silence presses against me, the air heavy, as if the story’s heat is choking the room.
I keep going, the words filthier: "He spreads my ass cheeks, his fingers sliding along my wet pussy, teasing my entrance. 'You’re soaked, slut,' he growls, and I moan, loud, reckless, the sound echoing. His thumb circles my clit, slow, torturous, until I’m bucking, begging for his cock. He unzips his pants, his dick thick, veined, the head glistening with precum. He rubs it against my slit, coating himself in my juices, and I whimper, my cunt desperate." My thighs press together, my pussy soaking through my shorts, the fabric sticking to my skin. I want to touch myself, but I don’t, not yet
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