Trapped With My Teacher

“Corina.”

There’s a strain in his voice now. Pleading and hungry and desperate all at once. I can’t tell if it’s because he wants me to stop or wants me to keep going. Probably both.

I lean back just far enough to meet his eye. I expect something. More denials, perhaps. Or more assertions that this is wrong. That, or I expect the man from last night to return. The one who fucked me mercilessly over that couch.

Instead, he just presses his lips together in a tight line. “I don’t have a condom,” he says.

I almost laugh, breathless from the combination of desire and the heat in this tight room. “I’m on the pill,” I reassure him.

With that, I lower myself on to his lap.

That seems to do it. Shred any last remnants of his self-control. He grabs my hips with one hand, tugs me down onto him. With the other, he grabs a fistful of my hair and crushes my lips to his in another hard, breathless kiss. I’m helpless to pull away—not that I’d want to—as he tugs me against him. I moan into his mouth when he thrusts up, and the head of his cock digs into my pussy.

“Fuck, Corina, you are so fucking tight,” he hisses through that kiss. Just the tip enters me at first, but he positions his hips, pulls me down against him until he’s pressing in further, deeper, inch by inch. Only once he’s fully inside me does he release the kiss, turn to bite and suck at my neck now, his teeth leaving marks, he’s so rough. I don’t care.

“Yes, Tony, fuck me.” I dig my nails into his back and arch my neck, crying out as he pushes me up off him, then pulls me down again, thrusting deeper into me.

“You like that, Corina? You like my thick cock stretching out your tight little pussy?”

All I can do is moan in response.

We find our rhythm, him bucking up beneath me, me spreading my knees wide and bouncing in his lap. Soon he’s fucking me completely, desperately, wild abandon in both of our movements. He stops kissing my neck, grabs both my hips, and I grab the side of the bath to hold myself steady as he pistons into me again and again.

Then he drops one hand to press against my mound, his thumb hard against my clit. I scream through gritted teeth, pleasure spiking inside me. “That’s it,” he growls. “Come for me, Corina. Come for me, dirty girl.” My belly clenches tight, and when he begins to circle his thumb against my clit, I can’t take it anymore. I come with a wild cry, lights sparking behind my closed eyes.

He just keeps going, keeps fucking me and thumbing my clit at the same time. “Again. I want to hear you scream.” The dual sensation of his thick cock stretching my pussy and his thumb teasing my already sensitive clit is too much. Before long the pressure builds once more.

This time I scream his name as I finish, bucking wildly against him. My pussy clenches and releases around his cock, spasming with the force of my orgasm. That seems to do it. He groans.

“God, fuck, Corina…” He grips my hips so hard I know it will bruise. Tugs me against him, thrusts deep into me, and comes. I can feel the hot rush of his cum coating my walls, and I squeeze my pussy as hard as I can, milking every drop from him as he keeps fucking me, slower and slower as he reaches the finish.

Finally, when we’re both lying against the edge of the tub, chests heaving as we catch our breath, I shift back. Peel myself off him, and gasp at the rush of his hot cum trickling out of my pussy and into the warm water of the tub.

“That was…” I shake my head. Catch his eye.

He’s gazing at me with more in his eyes than just lust now. There’s real desire there. Want. He shakes his head too, and reaches out. Catches the back of my neck with one hand and tugs me gently forward into another kiss. A slower one this time. Soft and sweet. When we break apart, he leaves his forehead pressed to mine, and locks his eyes on me. “I know.”

We both smile, still breathless. Then I cast a sideways glance at our clothes, piled around the narrow room. “Crap,” I say, belatedly realizing.

His forehead contracts against mine in a frown. “What?”

I lock eyes with him, breathless with laughter. “Towels.”

He laughs, too, and the tension between us finally seems to break, if only for now. If only for a little while.

“How do you know all this?” he’s asking me, back in the safety of the main cabin. We stood around the sauna drip-drying as long as we could—until the heat in the stove warming the tub faded, and we began to shiver with the onset of chill. Then we dressed again, in mostly dry clothes, and hurried through the snow back into the cabin. Along the way, I stopped to fill a bucket with snow for the sink. Our small supply of bottled water is already running low.