The new Health and Sexuality teacher, Lance Cockerel, stood by the coffee maker, casually snacking on chunks of pineapple while he waited for the machine to finish its slow, rhythmic drip, drip, drip.
I stepped into the lounge, the heavy door clicking shut behind me. I didn’t just walk in; I owned the space. I’d been observing Lance for a few days now—everything from that distinguished gray streak in his hair to the very apparent, very promising bulge in his Dockers. I wanted him.
I adjusted my cardigan, letting it hang just open enough to emphasize my assets as I approached. “How’s the coffee?” I asked, my voice dropping an octave.
“Not bad,” he replied, turning to face what I liked to think of as a “sexy force of nature.”
“I want you,” I said plainly. There was no point in dancing around it. I reached out, unbuckling his belt and sliding his zipper down with practiced ease. When I gripped him, I felt his pulse jump under my palm. He looked honestly confused for a split second, but that didn’t last long.
I kissed his neck, then slid down to my knees. I held his stiff manhood up, watching the light catch the tip as my tongue began its work.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his fingers tangling gently in my hair. I looked up, making sure he was watching the show. I slid my mouth down to the hilt, using every trick in the book until I felt him harden even further. When I added my hands to the mix, he gasped, “You’re going to make me cum, Velma.”
“Cum,” I whispered against him.
Like a bolt of lightning, he let go. All over my face, trickling down my chin. I licked my lips, savoring the moment. I stood up, grabbing his finished cup of coffee for myself. “I guess it’s true what they say about pineapple,” I teased.
As I walked toward the door, I knew he was staring at the sway of my hips. “I’ll see you tonight, Lance,” I called back.
“Oh, really?”
“Private tutoring session. My place.”
The Tutoring Session
Back at my apartment, I stood before the mirror and tightened my bun. I looked “cute,” sure, but I wanted more. I pulled the pencil from my hair, letting my brunette locks fall over my shoulders. Better. I adjusted my scarlet sweater—it was tight enough that you could faintly see my nipples poking through, which was exactly the point.
I slipped on a black thong and rolled up a pair of silk stockings, checking my reflection one last time. I looked hot. Grudgingly, I added a black skirt—short enough to be dangerous, but easy enough to lift. Just thinking about what had happened in the lounge had me ready to go again. I wanted to ride him until the neighbors called the police.
The doorbell rang.
I opened it to find Lance looking like a smitten, box-holding goof. He was wearing a blue sweater vest with his sleeves rolled up, clutching a box of homemade brownies. I smiled, fluttering my lashes as I led him inside.
“Red or white?” I asked, heading for the kitchen.
“Whatever you prefer.”
“Both, then.”
We sat on the couch, nursing our drinks and talking shop—lesson plans, difficult faculty members—until the wine began to take hold. He leaned in, kissing my neck, his tongue finding that perfect spot. When he moved lower, I didn’t protest. He was attentive, listening to my breath to see what worked.
“Finger me,” I commanded.
He obeyed, his other hand finding my breast and playfully pinching my nipple. I was a symphony of squeals and growls. When he started licking up and down, a jolt went straight through my spine. I gripped his hair tight. “You need to fuck me,” I groaned.
His massive erection popped out of his boxers, a silent agreement. I grabbed hold of him, tapping the bed to signal him to lie back. It was my turn to take charge.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I said, my lips popping as I pulled away from him for a second. “I’m just getting you ready.”
“Works for me,” he gasped. My hair brushed against his thighs as I moved, my head disappearing behind a wall of brunette curls. He was moaning with every move I made. “Yes… okay, Velma, stop. You’re going to make me go again.”
I lifted my head and bit my lip, looking him dead in the eye. “How do you want to fuck me?”
He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed my hips and guided me into doggystyle. I felt his hands grip my ass, and then he pushed slowly, firmly, into my begging body. velma facial velma facial
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