Trapped With My Teacher

“How long have you wanted my cock?” he replies. But he’s moving up against me again, and there’s his thick girth between my thighs, and I relax back into him, relieved that he’s giving in, that he’s grabbing my hips again, reaching down to stroke my clit with one finger.

“Ever since the first day of class,” I whisper. My voice is so low, he must hardly be able to hear me. I hope, anyway.

No such luck.

“That’s what I thought.” Suddenly, he positions his cock directly at my entrance. I barely have time to grab the edge of the couch before he thrusts forward, driving into me. That first thrust pushes his cock halfway into me, stretching my tight walls so that I shout. He’s already pulling back, pinning my hips hard against the couch, and thrusting back into me, deeper this time. I spread my legs wider. One more thrust and I can feel his balls slap against my pussy lips, his cock buried fully inside me, stretching me so wide it almost hurts. Almost.

But more than that, it feels fucking amazing.

“You like this Corina? Getting what you’ve always wanted?” He draws back, thrusts into me again. I cry out louder now, bucking back against him. “How often have you sat in my classroom fantasizing about me, hmm?” He thrusts again, and I have to grab the couch with both hands to hold on as he starts to build up momentum. “Do you think about me fucking you there? Bending you over my desk and having my way with you?”

“Y-yes,” I cry. He speeds up, fucking me harder now, faster. “I…I… dream about… you fucking me,” I gasp.

“Good.” His voice has dropped to a growl now. “Because I think about fucking you too, Corina.” He grips my hair, turns my head to the side, pulling just hard enough to make it sting in a good way.

I gasp and glance over my shoulder at him, my belly tight, my whole body on fire with his fury. “Yeah?” I ask, trying to make my voice as steady as I can. That’s nearly impossible now, as he pounds into me again and again, his cock stretching my walls.

He angles his hips to let the head of his cock drag along my inner wall, right over my G-spot. I buck and twist under him. He pins me against the couch with his other hand, continues to fuck me without stopping, merciless, hard. “Yes,” he practically growls. “I think about fucking you right in that front desk you sit in. I think about tearing off your cute little skirts and shoving my thick cock in your tight little pussy. Just.” He slams his hips against mine. “Like.” He thrusts again, and I scream, already on the brink of orgasm, my vision spotting with color at the edges. “This.”

That last thrust does it. My cry turns wordless, desperate, as his cock drives along my G-spot, sending me over the edge. I come hard, thrusting against him, desperate, feral.

He loosens his grip on my hair, grabs my hips with both hands and moves faster, harder, his eyes glazed, mouth open as he nears his own finish. I clench my pussy as hard as I can, and he groans so loud I’m sure anyone outside could hear it for miles—if there was anyone around. He growls my name as he finishes, coming hard inside me, and he keeps going, keeps pumping into me as his cock starts to soften.

Only then does he pull out and step back, breathless, eyes glazed, an almost stunned look in his eyes.

It takes me a moment to catch my breath, stop my heart from pounding wildly inside my chest.

For his part, Tony avoids my eye and unrolls the condom. He ties it expertly, pulling his jeans back into place at the same time. I’m still spread across the couch, wet pussy exposed, when he zips his jeans and brushes past me, slamming the door into the tiny kitchen behind him.

What the hell just happened?

6

The Morning After

The next time we speak is to argue about the bed.

“I told you, you take it.” Tony leans against the doorway into the bedroom, gaze narrowed at the single, tight-quartered mattress.

“We can both fit,” I protest. “Look, if we sleep on our sides…”

“I know we both can fit. You take it.” He steps back, toward the living room. I glare after him while he stokes the fire for a moment.

Then I raise my voice. “What were you saying earlier tonight about conservation? We need to conserve our body heat most of all. We can’t do that from two different rooms.” I gesture at the couch. “And you barely fit on that anyway.”

He narrows his eyes and shoves another piece of wood into the fire.

“That won’t stay lit all night,” I say. “Sooner or later it will go out. And you’ve seen how cold the kitchen already is. You can’t sleep out there in that.”