Dirty Professor

Sean

I suddenly knew how Prince Charming must have felt watching Cinderella run away from the bal

l.

Only I wasn’t left on the palace steps holding a glass slipper with a tear in my eye.

I was left standing in the middle of the crowded dance floor with a big cum stain on my pants and a confused look on my face.

I shook my head. I had never fucked a Playboy Playmate that wasn’t a basket case, and Katie Holmes was no different.

I’d stick with Victoria’s Secret models.

They weren’t as adventurous in bed and hated it when you got jizz on them, but at least they weren’t fucking nuts.

I tugged out my shirt tail to help cover the cum spot on my jeans and pushed my way through the crowd to get back to the VIP booth. I stood next to Ron, the bouncer who watched over the VIP section, and watched a waitress clear away the empties and set out fresh drinks.

The four blonde bimbos had retaken their seats in the booth. They had left room for me in the middle. They were lined up like circus chimps, preening their hair, checking their makeup in small mirrors, taking selfies and posting them online.

When they saw me emerge from the dancefloor, they smiled and licked their lips. I turned my back so they couldn’t see the cum stain because I knew it would cause an argument over who was going to lick my cock clean.

“I think I’ll go home, Ron,” I said, blowing out a tired breath. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I suddenly felt very tired. “Can you have my car brought around to VIP exit?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ron tapped the earpiece lodged in his right ear and ordered the valet to bring my Porsche around to the back door where crowds were not allowed to gather.

I took out the wad of cash I kept in my back pocket and peeled off three one-hundred-dollar bills and tucked them into the front pocket of his jacket.

“You should play football, Ron,” I said, patting his thick chest.

“So you keep saying,” he said with a smile.

“Just put those drinks on my tab and let the girls order what they want,” I said, waving a hand at the table. “I’ll see you later.”

As I started to walk away, he tapped me on the shoulder.

“Mr. Donovan, do you want this?”

I looked back to find him holding a business card between two thick fingers. There was a Playboy logo on the card.

“Women are funny creatures, aren’t they,” he said, sliding the card into my shirt pocket and giving my chest a pat. “Have a good night, Mr. Donovan.”

“You, too, Ron,” I said with a smile. “You, too.”

Kate

“So, what the fuck happened last night?” Dru asked, leaning against my office door with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a half-eaten Bear Claw in the other.

Dru didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, yet she ate like a Sumo wrestler. She said it was her high-octane-lesbian metabolism… although I don’t really think there is such a thing.

I looked up from my laptop and rolled my eyes. “Well, I guess the disguise worked because he practically humped me right in the middle of the dancefloor. But in the end, it was a bust.”

I didn’t dare mention that we had basically masturbated one another on the dance floor. That was a fun fact that I would take to my grave.

Dru, on the other hand, reveled in telling tall tales of her nightly sexual exploits. She held a finger under her nose and took a deep whiff.

“Oh well, at least I had the common decency to fingerfuck a girl at the bar rather than try to fuck her on the dancefloor. Which would not have been out of the question, I might add.”