Big Book of Smut 2

Naughty Professors #2

“And so, Victorian-era beliefs about a woman's sexual pleasure were obviously repressed, but also tied into the pervasive belief that sex was only for procreation. Women were expected to have sex with their husbands on demand, and the sole purpose was to produce children. Preferably as many male children as possible.” Professor Amy Janney took off her glasses and turned to us. She looked like a model — coal-black hair, eyes like sapphires, and a rack that made me ache with envy. I'd read in our homework assignment last night that women during the Victorian era often removed their bottom ribs so that their corsets would fit tighter around the waist and give them a 16” or 20” measurement. Professor Janney seemed built by God for Queen Victoria's time, but with breasts that shoved up, as if God were trying very hard to draw them closer to heaven.

“Sex on demand, huh? Maybe I should get married,” Chuck Smicker called out. The guys in class snickered and most of the women rolled their eyes.

Professor Janney froze, then turned her entire body toward Chuck, slowly sauntering down the aisle in those come-fuck-me pumps. She leaned toward him, just enough to get him nervous. “If you need to be married in order to have sex on demand, Chuck, then you might be doing it wrong,” she said quietly. The words hung in the air, the hair on my arms stood up, and my nipples contracted, suddenly itching for a good pinch or lick. God dammit, this class was going to kill me.

No one said a word.

But most of the women were squelching smirks.

“OK, then, make sure you read the Charlotte Gillman Perkins short story for next class, and enjoy your weekend. Happy Friday!” she announced. Most of the guys took their time to stand up, and when they did, they held their books over their dicks. It didn't take a Ph. D to understand what Professor Janney had just done to the guys in her course.

Maybe we should rename her Mistress Dominique. She was one hell of a dom, and with those heels, 4” red stilettos that went well with her uptight, overly conservative suit. If she was trying to send a message, it was working.

Come fuck me. My way.

I stood and gathered my laptop and readings, throwing them in my backpack. That uncomfortable blue clit feeling didn't help; I'd need to do rub one off in a quiet stall in the bathroom. Then again, so would a few other women, and all the guys, given the strange looks of detachment and confusion I saw mirrored in my classmate's eyes. Arousal was common for us; being in the 18–22 age range meant we were horny nonstop, but also able to do something about it.

Just not between classes.

Even Chuck's pole would feel good right now, as long as I could ignore the ass attached to it.

“Alicia?” Professor Janney's perfume hit my senses. Smelled like cinnamon, cardamom, and musk. I wanted to lick her arm, which she perched on the desk next to me. If I licked her arm, would I get extra credit? Tasting any part of her right now would release me. I'd climax on the spot. Throw me out of school. I didn't care. Just let me have one lick of her elixir.

Instead, I mustered all my will to just answer her. My red, swollen clit didn't help. “Um, yes?”

“Nice work deconstructing the meaning of the pessary in the Victorian age. You have the makings for grad school, you now?” Her warm smile and encouraging words gave her a safer, more motherly look. Considering she was, at most, three or four years older than me, “mother” was a stretch. But the ache in me dialed down a notch, and the urge to grab her face and shove my tongue down her throat, slide my hands through those long, back waves of silk, and finger fucker her right there on the ancient, carved schoolkid desk receded just enough.

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” I mumbled.

She reached out and fingered a piece of my long hair. “You have the most beautiful auburn hair. It's not just the color of copper — it's like copper and burgundy blended together.” She dropped the strand. “I'm jealous. I always wished I had any color hair than boring old black when I was growing up.”

A huge wave shifted and pushed up from my soaked pussy, through my lower abs, over my stomach and into my diaphragm, removing all ability to speak. I inhaled through my nose, pretending to sniff, distracting myself and suppressing the huge climax that wanted to erupt right there. “I was born with it, so it's all I know,” I laughed, throwing my backpack over my shoulder and avoiding her eyes.

She smiled again and returned to her desk, shuffling papers and files. “Have a great weekend,” she said absentmindedly.

“Yeah. You too.”

And in that moment, I knew two things: I would go into the bathroom and have a ripping orgasm in three seconds flat, and that I would fuck her. Soon.

I was right about both.

I worked in the English department office as a student worker. For $9 an hour I got to file, clean, make flyers for department events, and be condescended to. Some of those professors were the biggest blowhards ever. They were so consumed by the fact that they had Ph. D. — and God forbid I forget to call them “doctor” — that they thought they hung the moon. Forget the fact that any books they wrote were only read by the poor students who were forced to buy them for their classes. Some of them were so preening and full of themselves that they made me print all their emails for them — by sending me an email and saying “print this and put it in my mailbox.” WTF? They had printers in their offices! How lazy do you have to be?

Whatever. I made my $9 an hour for 20 hours a week, and it was enough to keep me paying for the dorm, food, and car insurance. The worst professors were the men, though. Not only did they drool over any female student, they treated me like some sort of 1950s version of a secretary. Get them coffee? Get your own damn coffee! Ask me into your office to retrieve a file folder from the bottom cabinet so you can watch my ass? Fuck off.

And the worst was Doctor Joe Faustino. Slimy asshole. He was a “men's fiction” expert, which is nothing more than a “my dick is too big to tolerate feminism” choice. He was gorgeous — I'll give him that. Way more than 6' tall, with sandy hair and a phenomenal set of legs on a man. Too bad his personality was domineering and condescending.

And he had the hots for Professor Janney.

Who, I decided, would be mine. All mine.

So one Friday morning I'm working in the English department and in walks Professor Janney. And Faustino. And they've got that horny sex look. He's putting one hand on the small of her back and she's fucking him with her eyes.

Joe dug into his pockets for his office key. “HI, Joe!” Joyce, the department secretary, called out.

“Oh, hi Joyce,” he replied, smiling like a doofus.

Professor Janney checked her mailbox, and then Joe said something about calling students. Then they practically sprinted into the faculty office area like two starving people looking for water in the desert.

And finding it in her vagina.

They closed the door but didn't lock it. I found a few file folders and pretended to be reading and organizing paperwork. Joyce, the department secretary, was a fairly laid-back boss, but I didn't want it to be obvious that I was snooping. First I heard a weird thump, then some smacking sounds, and finally a long sigh and a muffled groan.

Holy shit. Were two professors really going at it in the faculty office room? The college was renovating the big, old Victorian building where the English department has its regular offices, so most of the younger faculty were crammed into this one office, like a cubicle farm. Hah. They'd bitched and moaned about it, claiming privacy and intellectual stimulation lost.

Sounded like these two professors found some stimulation, alright.

So Professor Janney was in there, writhing on the floor with that overpowering jerk, and I was out here, my panties starting to soak, wondering about her body. Was his face between her legs? What did her black hair look like around her pussy? Did she taste like spices? And why, of all people, was she fucking him? Squirming didn't help quell the burning desire building in me as a deep ache formed in my pussy. I needed action.

But him?

Ah, fuck it. I could put up with him if it meant touching her perfect breasts, stroking those folds, tasting her juices, having her ride my face, getting tongue fucked by one of the most brilliant Victorian sexuality writers in the country.

Besides, for $9 an hour, the department got their money's worth out of me. Time I got my money's worth out of this overpriced college. I grabbed a file and stepped up to the door. Now I could really hear them going at it. I was on the edge of a cliff, able to step back and not do this. I could pretend they weren't there and just go about my life.

A devil on my shoulder urged me on. An angel on my shoulder stayed strangely quiet.

I grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly, opening it just enough to enter, and played dumb.

“So, Joe, I need you to sign some — Oh, my God!” I dropped the files I held in my arms, and stared at them. Light shone through the open door, leaving Amy and Joe completely vulnerable and within view of anyone who walked by. Seeing Amy (why bother thinking of her as “Professor Janney” anymore? Once you've seen your professor naked, first names are a must) being that exposed made me tighten with fear and excitement. I was really doing this.

“Close the door!” Joe commanded, using a voice I'd never heard before. He'd always been so very into political correctness and supporting women as equals, even as he asked me to go and fetch his coffee and get his dry cleaning. Prick.. This voice was powerful and authoritative, a bit threatening and angry, and I watched Amy's face as she flushed and wiggled. It turned her on.

Anything that turned her on turned me on, too.

I kicked the door shut, locked it, and quivered. Fake quivered, really. Because now that I found them both on the floor, naked, with Joe's huge cock still in her, I knew I had nothing to fear. They wouldn't reject me. Amy looked at me, licked her lips, and then leaned in toward Joe.

“I wonder if the carpet matches the drapes,” she whispered in Joe's ear, licking the outer rim and making him shiver. I heard every word and felt my orgasms build and nearly tip over. God, I was hungry and needy. Her pink pussy lips looked like a feast for poor, little starving me. Joe's cock slid out of her and she pouted, then looked at me. Was that an invitation? At this point, I just needed a tiny hint.

I stood there, staring at them, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I…I..uh…I'm so sorry.” My voice trailed off into a sultry tone, offering the first try.

I wasn't sorry.

I was turned on.

“Well, if you're so sorry, then do something about it,” Joe commanded. “You have definitely crossed a line. But first,” he asked, his brow furrowed in thought, “why did you lock the door?”

I smiled, and I grew slicker by the second, breasts flushed and ready for something new. Amy raised her eyebrows — now that was the invitation I needed. “I think you know why. Because I have been a very, very bad girl.”

Joe nodded. “Very, very bad.” I undressed quickly — my orgasm was right there, teeming and waiting. There was no way I would last long, and I knew Joyce was at a clerical meeting for the next 20 minutes. Let's get it on.

Or off.

And yes, Professor, the carpet matched the drapes.

Smack. Joe slapped my ass hard, leaving a bright red mark. I moaned with pleasure. Amy joined me. The sound made me clench, turning my belly, ass and cunt into one big dripping muscle.

Joe was built like a beach volleyball athlete, tall and muscled, with a six pack you could practically climb like an indoor climbing wall. His cock stood out like a nice grabbing point, and he stroked it two or three times.

And so she reached over and gave me a quick spank. I flooded with moist pleasure, suddenly aching.

Joe caressed my breasts, ran his muscled hands down my belly, stopping just at my hips and gently guiding me on all fours. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Amy pout.

“What about me?” she asked, fingerfucking herself, one hand spreading her pussy lips nice and wide, the other stroking her clit in fast, flicking circles. The red, swollen clit stood out between her black, silky curls and I wanted to lunge and lick it.

“Oh, I'll take care of you in a second, Amy.” Joe's cock slid easily into me, my wetness for Amy helping him along the way.

And then I came. Right that split second. It caught me off guard, and I tried not to come. I wanted my orgasm in Amy's mouth, but Joe was pumping slowly at my needy vagina and it was just too much. “Ummmm…more…oh…” I groaned, waves taking me away.

“Oh, no you don't,” she purred. Joe grabbed her ass and dragged her down on top of my face, sliding out of me. I whimpered, but then felt a warm mouth on my clit, her body beneath me, and the scent of spices and love in my face as her hands reached through my thick hair and gently nudged my mouth to her vulva.

“You have to teach her, Amy.” His voice was floating about ten feet above my head, as if and clenching climax after climax ripped through the moist and the hot and the wet that I'd become. I wasn't a separate set of body parts any more — I was just one big climax. Amy's hands were on me, smoothing my breasts and tweaking, sending me over and over and over the top.

Amy licked and rolled my clit, gently tongue fucking me, while I went to town on her, using my tongue to imitate what I saw her doing with her hands. I took one hand and spread her lips nice and wide, then took my tongue and traced lazy circles, flattening my tongue and then tightening the tip to flick her clit at the end of each circle.

“Two fingers,” she moaned. “In me.”

I obliged — she was the teacher, after all.

Her pussy walls clamped down. I knew she was close to exploding. But maybe she needed something more.

“Hey,” Joe growled. “What about me?”

“OK,” I said. “Let's do a little rearranging.” I pulled Amy up on all fours, then slid under her, trading places. Her mouth lifted up and suddenly I felt like I was missing a part of my soul. Amy shoved her ass up in the air and Joe took his time with the tip of his penis, tracing circles around her aching hole, her ass grinding back against him as she moaned and twitched. Finally, he slid in her and she sighed.

I took felt her mouth descend on me, and I used my mouth to keep her clit warm and driven as Joe fucked her from behind. Last year I'd been on the fucking end of a threesome, with ny next-door-neighbor's mouth on my clit while my boyfriend filled me, and the experience had been nothing short of spiritual. Giving that to Amy right now was worth getting caught, being kicked out of school, arrested, or whatever.

JA few careful licks, with a flattened, moist tongue and a slow, sensual pace and she was wriggling and moaning, the vibration of her groans in my vulva, driving me further into frenzy.

Joe's pace picked up and I could feel his urgency, sense the orgasm so close in both of them. Amy began fingering my asshole and my hips shot up, shoving against her tight tongue as the orgasm released in me again, my groans and teeth pushing against her vulva and dripping clit, Joe's cock shoving in and out of her right above my nose, my body betraying me and coming even when I wanted to hold back, the finger too much.

She didn't relent, but instead shoved one finger in my needy cunt, the other staying in my ass, and then she did something with the wall between the two fingers and I gasped, bringing my hand to my mouth and biting as hard as I could to stop myself fro screaming with pleasure. My G-spot started to ache in that sweet way that descends right before a tipping point, as orgasm tenses and releases, and then that was it. I tipped.

“Ah — ah — ah — ah — ” I didn't know who was making sound, which slick sliding noises were whose, and I didn't care, as I finally climaxed, Amy's tongue and Joe's hard cock taking my swollen need and replacing it with sheer, raw chaos and explosion.

I buried my face in Amy's pussy and hung on for dear life, wanting to keep her pleasure going but lost in the frenzy of my own. My entire body seized up and I just stopped caring about her, about Joe, about anything as I became nothing but a dripping vagina of passion.

“Uh! Uh! I'm coming!” Joe hissed, and a powerful shock wave shattered me, pounding my face into Amy as she wriggled and clawed, deep in her own orgasm

Smack. Amy slapped my ass as hard as she could, spanking me out of my orgasm. I jolted, but said nothing. I was done, so nothing she could do would ruin this.

Smack. Joe slapped Amy's ass and she started spraying and gushing all over my face!. The squirt caught me by surprise and I laughed, a deep-throated laugh of sensual joy that I didn't know I had in me. I made Professor Janney gush! She's talked about female ejaculation in class before, but I had no idea it was real — I thought it was just pee! This fluid tasted different, like a spicy, watered down version of her pussy juices. It was bold and amazing and I felt like I'd just been inducted into the Phi Beta Kappa of sex.

Joe, meanwhile, quietly slipped out of Amy and stroked us both, watching us finish each other off with our tongues. He watched us like we were in a porn video, an eager, but tired look on his face.

“Too bad you can only come once, huh?” Amy said, tonguing my taint as she shuddered and finished off what was left of her climax.

“Oh, I did alright.” He smiled and slapped Amy's ass again. Then he slowly got dressed, never taking his eyes off us.

I rolled away and panted, my breath slowing until I composed myself. Professor Janney rolled away and landed on the dropped file folders from my entrance just minutes ago.

A phone rang; a department secretary answered it. “Joe Faustino? Hold on one moment. Let me see if he's in.”

We all stared at each other, wide-eyed, as we hurried to dress. The doorknob began to rattle just as we finished dressing.

“Alicia?” the secretary asked. “Why is the door locked?”

Smooth as silk, I glided to the door and opened it. “Oh, sorry, Joyce. I guess the lock slipped in place. Sometimes it does that.” I reverted to my fake mousy self and hunched my shoulders in an unassuming position. “You know how these old doors are.”

“There's a call for you, Joe,” Joyce explained, walking quickly out of the office.

Joe followed her, then stopped and turned. He looked pointedly at us. “I expect we need to have some more meetings — even an independent study project — to fully explore this topic?” An arched eyebrow was his farewell.

“I'd like that,” I said, hoping to make him go away so I could talk to Professor Janney alone.

Smack. I slapped her ass and waited. She flashed me a smile. “Alicia, how about you and I get together for some tutoring. I'd love to go over some 19 ^th century lesbian pornography monographs with you.”

“That sounds great,” I replied. “In fact, we might be able to work together for an entire year on my senior thesis project if I pick a topic like that,” I said, smacking her ass lightly again. She swallowed, hard, and composed herself, making a mask that shut off her passion.

I couldn't wait to get started on my, er, research.