Coming up with a good activity for my next session with M. Stewart was a challenge. Not because I couldn’t think of anything, but because I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do next. I’d already flashed him my tits and given him a lengthy showing of my tight, auburn-haired pussy. I’d even climaxed unexpectedly as I rubbed up against his desk, my ass in full view. I’d seen his cock – nothing impressive in size or shape, but exciting none the less – as our last meeting where we’d agreed he should pay me if this were to go any further.
I had a few ideas in mind, and I decided to wait until I saw him and heard what he had to say before making up my mind.
After class let out early on Tuesday, I walked to the drinking fountain and back. I did this occasionally instead of always hanging back because I didn’t want anyone catching on to our private time.
When I came back, he had his arms folded, leaned against the desk in his typical stance. He looked defiant somehow, like he couldn’t wait to show me how this couldn’t possibly work. Or maybe he was just terrified that it would.
“I want you to cum on me today.”
He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. I figured he would be, as I hadn’t let him touch me up until this point. I wasn’t planning to let him touch me today either, but I didn’t know if he knew that yet.
“So, since that includes semen, by your stipulations I owe you fifty dollars today instead of twenty?”
“I only want twenty.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I told you it isn’t about the money.”
“I have fifty bucks. I can give you what-“
“Are you being all proud now? You need me to know you have money?”
He said nothing, but knew I didn’t like games. I liked this being about baser urges, without need to justify and romanticize everything and save face. Humans are all run by sex, yet we feel the need to control our natural desires. The point of all of this was to strip those pretenses away. He knew that, but sometimes I felt I had to remind him.
“This isn’t about the money. Plus, I told you to plan for twenty today. Consider it a bonus. I may do that from time to time.”
He sat in his chair. “Where would you like me to cum on you?”
“You pick,” I offered graciously, but with ulterior motives. “But pussy’s off the table. So is the face. For today, at least.”
He blinked a few times. “Why do I feel like this is some sort of trick?”
“It’s not a trick. You get to tell me where you want to see your cum land. On my ass? Tits? Feet?”
“Tits.” he answered quickly.
“Tits it is,” I bounced over to his chair and knelt before him. I had a low-cut, stretchy shirt on that I pulled down, along with my bra. My bra acted as a shelf for my small tits to rest on, perking them up a bit.
Without needing to be told, he unzipped his pants and began stroking himself, staring at my chest. I watched as he stroked lazily at first, his wrist doing most of the work. Then he got more serious about it, pumping his whole arm from the elbow. He started panting, kind of snorting through his nose. His eyes kept wanting to close, but he fought it. Probably şişhane escort because he wasn’t allowed to touch me and seeing my tits was his only source of stimulation.
“Can I scoot closer?” He asked politely.
“You can come as close as you want, as long as you don’t touch me.”
He scooted close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of his crotch. He didn’t announce anything corny like “Ohhhh, God, I’m close!” or “Ungh, I’m gonna cum…” He just did his business, concentrating on my body as spurts of whitish thick liquid shot from the tip of his shaft. I rotated myself around slowly, helping him spread it all around. When he finished, he reached for a tissue on the desk to clean himself up. I tucked my breasts back into my bra.
“Don’t you want to clean up?”
“Nope,” I said stiffly, “I’m leaving it there until the next time I see you.”
“You’re leaving crusty cum on yourself until next week??”
I laughed as I carried my bag out of the room, calling out over my shoulder. “Who says it will be next week before I see you again?”
I showered two days later, careful not to let my tits get under the stream of water. I didn’t want to smell bad or look gross, but I wanted to up the “dirty girl factor” a little. I was testing the water, to see just how far I could push him.
The next day, three days after I let him cum on my tits, I showed up unannounced at Monsieur Stewart’s office. He was with a student, someone I recognize from our French Films class. He gestured that he saw me, and I waited patiently in the chair outside his office.
When the other student (whose name I never bothered to learn) exited the room, I walked in.
I leaned over him in his chair, pulling my boobs from my bra and letting them spill out over my shirt. I took his hand and ran it over the crusty, dried semen on my chest. “I’ve had you right under my nose for three days.” I said.
“That’s so nasty.” he stated blankly.
I placed my hand on his seriously hard cock, straining against his jeans. “But clearly you like nasty. You don’t have to try to explain why. Or even understand it yourself. Just don’t judge. Enjoy it.”
As if to illustrate my point, I rubbed my tits in his face, smiling as I pulled away to see little specs of dried semen caught in his stubble.
“How much is this going to cost me?” he asked. God, I hope he gets past this money thing soon.
“Nothing,” I replied. “Consider it a follow-up visit from the last time.”
“How can you possibly still smell good?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“I showered,” I explained, “I was just extra careful not to wash away my souvenir.”
I stood and replaced my boobs back into my bra.
“Tuesday,” I nodded.
“Will I ever get to pick what we do?”
“I don’t know. Have my choices disappointed you yet?”
He laughed. “Touche.”
On Tuesday, I intentionally skipped class. I hardly ever skipped class, but I know he wouldn’t dream of dinging my grade şişli anal yapan escort for it. I also knew it was important to look like every other student if we were going to avoid getting caught. I checked the department website for his office hours, though, and went to his office just as he was finishing up for the day.
“You stood me up today,” he seemed perturbed.
“No, I didn’t. I said Tuesday, and it’s still Tuesday.”
“Don’t let your grades suffer because of this. Don’t put me in the position to have to give you a grade you don’t deserve just because…”
“Woah,” I raised my hands, “I just skipped class today because that’s what normal college kids do from time to time. And I do want to look normal when it comes to you. You know I’ll do the work.”
He nodded. “When you didn’t show, I was… beyond disappointed.”
“I’m sorry, I knew you would be.” I offered genuinely.
He looked down and back up. “You have a skirt on today.”
“Does that mean I get to see your pussy again today?”
“Yes,” I leaned back against his desk, pressing my feet against the chair like I’d done the last time. “And my tits.”
I pulled my shirt off over my head and removed my bra. It’s the first time I’d been naked in front of him.
“This is risky.”
“Not really,” I argued, “You have the latest office hours of anyone in this department. And they all expect you to be gone for the day.”
I hiked my skirt up to my waist.
“Do I get to touch you today?”
“I’m going to rub my clit and at some point, I’m going to ask you to finger me.”
I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I pictured the look on his face when I first exposed myself to him, surprised, scandalized and utterly turned on. I felt the power I had that day, and still had as I rubbed myself on his desk. I used my free hand to pull on my nipple, turning and twisting it until it almost hurt – hurt so good.
“Put your finger inside me.”
He leaned forward and obliged, inserting his middle finger, palm up, into my pussy. “You’re tight.” He commented.
He didn’t answer, most likely because he was a nice guy who didn’t want to offend me.
“I know why,” I looked him straight in the eyes. “You naturally assume that a girl like me would be loose from having had so much casual sex.”
Again, no response.
“Other than some foreplay, there’s only been one cock inside this pussy.” This was true, although I never really knew if he believed it. “A boyfriend. My first boyfriend. I’ve never had casual sex.”
“How do you like it?” he asked.
“Slow right now,” I answered, “But I’ll tell you when to pick it up.”
He slid his slender finger in and out of my pussy, not exactly hitting The Right Spot, but creating enough friction that I started moving my hips against him.
“Curl your finger,” I directed. “Fuck me harder.”
Obediently, he thrust his curled finger hard and deep inside me.
“Oh, God, just like şişli bdsm escort that.” I moaned.
I felt no need to give him breathy moans or insincere encouragement. Those things always distracted me from getting off. He would keep doing what I asked until I told him to do something different. He knew I would tell him and I knew he would comply.
I started fucking against his hand pretty hard, but I needed more.
“Talk dirty to me.” I demanded.
Without skipping a beat, he growled at me, “You like this deep in your pussy, you little slut?”
“Ohhh…” I moaned.
“Yeah, that’s it. Ride my hand with your dirty cunt. Pinch your nipple… I know you like it rough.”
Though not in my nature, I did what I was told and soared off the desk in a blinding orgasm. I grabbed onto his hand to stop him as the sensations became overwhelming.
He barely gave me time to catch my breath before saying, “So, let me get this straight. I have to pay you twenty bucks and I didn’t even get off??”
“That’s right.” I chuckled.
He shook his head, pulling out his wallet. He handed over twenty bucks and said “You’re the worst prostitute ever.”
“Hey, watch it,” I spun around and put a joking finger in his face, “Dirty talk time is over, Monsieur!”
I waited the whole week before seeing him again. But in the meantime, I decided to push the envelope a little farther…
After class on Tuesday, I told M. Stewart to sit in his desk chair. I told him to whip his cock out. I sat in front of him and kicked my sandals off.
“I had a little extra money this week, so I decided to get a pedicure.”
He smiled, looking a little disappointed. “I’m not really into… feet.”
I snaked my foot up his leg and fondled his exposed balls with the soft flesh of my toes. He narrowed his eyes, as if he were humoring me but not yet sure if he wanted to enjoy it. I pulled my tits out to let him look at. He became hard as a rock.
“You know this is the first time you’ve touched my bare cock.”
“I know.” I said, “I want you to lick and suck my toes.”
“I told you, I’m not really into that.”
“Well, your cock says otherwise. Humor me.”
Obediently but reluctantly he licked the ball of my foot. I flexed my toes in response. It tickled but felt so good.
He did as he was told, holding my foot to his mouth with one hand and stroking his shaft with the other. In relatively no time, he stopped stroking, somewhat panicked.
“Where do you want me to cum?”
“Lean forward, cum on the floor.”
“Why on the floor?”
“Because it’s naughty. And we’re going to leave it there for housekeeping to clean up.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea.”
“No one will assume it’s semen. Their first thought, if they find it at all, will be that it’s dried food of some sort. But you’ll know. And I’ll know.”
He licked between and sucked each of my toes eagerly as he stared as my tits and fucked his hand furiously. He bucked and grunted as he leaned forward. I heard splatters of his cum on the floor and smiled.
“Maybe you’re a foot guy after all.”
Still panting, “Maybe it’s you. Maybe I’ll just do whatever you tell me and learn to like it.”
I considered for a moment before hopping off the desk. I squished my toes in one of the small cum splatters before replying, “You’re probably going to wish you hadn’t said that.”