A Tale of Two Paramours Ch. 02

Gently, I began to ease inside of her. The tightness of her pussy was almost unbelievable. I was glad I had already climaxed; I would not have lasted long had I not already enjoyed some relief. I had never experienced another woman who felt the same way, although I had been with other women I would have described as tight. The only experience to which I could compare it was anal sex with a college girlfriend. So, like I had done then, I was taking it slow. I had carefully entered her about half-way when Jessi changed my plans.

"Fuck this slow shit, Mr. Warner," she growled. "Ram it in me hard!"

She then began thrusting her rear back against me, pushing more of my length inside her vagina each time. I tightened my grip on her hips, stopping her thrusting, before driving myself all the way in. A sound that I could best describe as a cross between a moan and a wail filled the small room as the petite blonde tensed, put her head down and shuddered.

"God that hurts!" Jessi blurted out.

"I'm so sorry, Jessi" I apologized, starting to pull out of her.

"No!" she cried. "Don't pull out. Keep it in. It's a good hurt."

"It's a good hurt," she repeated, softer, mainly to herself, I think.

Her breathing slowing, Jessi raised her blonde head and looked back at me with lust-filled eyes.

"Do it hard, Mr. Warner. I need it hard. And fast," she pleaded. "Fuck me like a worthless whore!"

As I knelt there, hesitating, unsure, still half in her, I experienced one of the strangest inner debates of my life. Part of me wanted to do exactly as she asked. Another part was concerned about hurting her. Yet another part was taken aback by her words and the wanton intensity of her sexuality, even a little uncertain about going forward at all given her unexpected brazenness. Finally, a fourth part pondered whether I should tell her that her last comment was ambiguous as to which of us was the "worthless whore," and that she could make it more clear by adding "I am" after "like" and before "a worthless whore."

Shaking my head to stop my discordant thoughts, I decided I would do what I most wanted, which I knew was also what the sexy woman in front of me also wanted. I made sure I still had a firm grip on her sensuous hips and thrust abruptly into her again, although I made sure it was not as hard as before.

"God yes!" the petite blonde moaned when I was all the way in her again.

"Fuck! Your thick cock hurts soooo good," she panted as I started thrusting in and out of her, picking up speed and force.

"Does my tight little whore pussy feel good, Mr. Warner?" she asked as I fucked her – there is really no other word so appropriate for what we were doing – from behind.

"Yes," I moaned, taking my hands off her hips and leaning forward, my chest against her lower back, so I could kiss her neck and reach around and massage her modest, firm breasts.

"Say it!" she commanded.

"Your tight pussy feel fantastic," I assured her, but she wanted more.

"Tell me it feels good on your cock!" she said with a snarl that tuned into a moan as I increased the force I was using on her breasts.

"Your pussy feels good around my hard cock," I almost whispered, suddenly unsure of myself. Where was I letting her take me?

"I am an educated man, a college instructor," I reminded myself, even as I continued to thrust in and out of the moaning, shuddering young woman beneath me. "I do not use the type of vulgarities she wants me to use."

But that wasn't true, not really. I did not use such words aloud, and had not done so in years, yet I sometimes thought them. But ever since I had started teaching, and even more so after I met the woman who would eventually become my wife, I had considered even my thoughts of such words inappropriate.

Now, in the span of a week, two sexy, younger women – my students, in fact -- had reduced me to the use of vulgar language, both in actuality and in thinking about my own actions. These two temptresses had also led me to give in to my baser urges. And both experiences had been wonderful, including the one that was still ongoing as I tried to make sense of my fears and myself.

"Fuck it," I thought, remembering a younger self, one who was more open, more free. One who worried less about whether others (including his now ex-wife, who had felt vulgar language cheapened their physical intimacy) found his language appropriate or not as long as the woman he was with did not object.

"Yes, your pussy feels fantastic on my hard cock," I declared as I drove into Jessi even harder. "And your firm, smooth tits feel fucking incredible!"

"Oh fuck!" Jessi moaned at my words, and then her pussy clamped down on me like a vice as her breathing grew ragged. Her body tensed then shuddered as she fell forward so that only my hands squeezing her breasts kept her torso and head from falling to the floor. A string of guttural noises – "uh...uh...uh...uh...uh...uh..."—accompanied her rapid, shallow breaths.

The spasms in her pussy were too much for me. I ejaculated even harder than before, amazed at how the tightness of her drained every drop from me. As I began to relax, I realized I was panting and covered with sweat, as was Jessi. I worked at calming my breathing as I gently lowered Jessi, whose body was now limp, so that her face and shoulders were resting on the ground. I could tell that she was also trying to get her own breathing under control.

"That – was – fucking – incredible," she panted.

"Yes it was," I agreed.

Realizing that soon I would be soft, I started to pull out of Jessi's now even tighter pussy. She let out a sad little whimper, like she had when I had removed my fingers from her earlier. So, I decided to stay in her until her tightness pushed me out. While that lasted, I began rubbing her small, wonderfully shaped butt.

"Mmmm... that feels so nice," the blonde moaned, her head turned to the side and resting on the floor, her eyes closed, her blonde hair damp with sweat.

Too soon, my penis was flaccid enough that I could not keep it inside of her, but as it fell out, this time I heard a satisfied sigh rather than a disappointed whimper. With another sigh and then a deep breath, the petite blonde pushed herself up off the floor and turned toward me, both of us on our knees.

She reached out her hand and stroked my cheek as she smiled at me. I did the same to her, and then put my hand on her neck and tried to draw her to me for a kiss – which would have been out first. The kiss did not happen, however, as Jessi jerked away and shook her head.

"No, Mr. Warner," she admonished me, standing up. "No kissing."

I stood up too, unsure what to do next. Jessi must have noticed my confusion. She sighed and reached out and touched my arm.

"Kissing would... complicate this," she explained.

"Well, we have already kissed pretty much everywhere," I replied, trying to lighten the mood.

For this first time since I had been at her apartment, Jessi's stare had that disconcerting, overly intense quality to it I had experienced so much throughout the just ended semeste. Then, suddenly, she broke eye contact.

"I meant on the lips," she clarified in a quiet voice, her eyes downcast. "That might complicate... this."

Nodding to convey an understanding I did not really possess, I opened my arms and asked, "How about a hug, then?"

Jessi looked back up at me, and I could not quite read her expression. Was it hope? Was it fear? Was it sorrow? Was it pity?

And then, a smile erased whatever her prior expression had been. Before I knew it, she had her arms around my middle as she held me tightly against her. I put my arms around her shoulders and held her to me. She softly kissed my chest.

We stayed like that for several seconds before she pushed away from me. I dropped my arms to my side, unsure of what to do next. Jessi seemed to share my feeling, and we both stood awkwardly, each of us hyperaware of the closeness of the other.

Breaking the tension, Jessi asked, "Are you hungry, Mr. Warner? I have some pizza in my refrigerator."

"Pizza would be fine," I told her, relieved to have something to say.

"Okay. Let me grab a t-shirt real quick," she said as she walked toward a dresser next to her bed.

As she rummaged in her drawers, I gathered up my clothes while admiring the alluring juxtaposition of sensuous curves on her slender frame. I had just enough time to avert my eyes as she pulled on a long, oversized t-shirt and turned around. I pretended I was just looking up from putting on my pants. She smiled as she unabashedly stared at my chest.

"You could leave your shirt off," she suggested. "I wouldn't mind. You have a nice chest."

"Not as nice as yours," I countered with a smile, "yet you covered yours up."

"It's different for girls," she said as if that solved everything rather than contradicting nearly all her prior actions that evening.

"Okay," I said, wanting to be agreeable. She smiled again and then moved past me, making sure to brush up against my hip with hers on her way to her small kitchen.

"Should I put on my socks," I asked playfully.

"The only thing I care about your socks is that you don't wear only them," she advised me. "And it was touch and go there for a bit when you were taking your pants off."

"Oh, and why was that," I inquired.

"Well, for just a moment you were only wearing your socks, and I seriously considered whether I would have to kick you out," she teased, a wicked smile lighting up her face. "But I was so horny I figured I could live with it just that once."

We stared at each other for a second or two before we both started laughing. Once again, Jessi had surprised me. An entire semester of classes had not once hinted that she possessed such a sense of humor.

Still smiling, she asked me whether I wanted my pizza hot or cold.

"What kind is it?" I asked.

"Pepperoni, onions and pineapple," she replied.

"Cold is fine then," I told her, and then added, "If it had jalapenos on it, that would be the perfect pizza."

"That's an idea," she agreed. "Then it would be sweet and hot, just like me."

We both had another laugh, although this time I noticed she was blushing as well. Jessi was definitely full of surprises.

She put a paper plate with two slices of pizza on it in front of me as I sat down at her small table; her own plate had one small slice on it. She then went back to her kitchen and brought out two cold bottles of water and sat them on the table.

"Do you want to watch TV while we eat," she asked, still standing.

For the first time, I noticed a flat screen TV on her dresser. But I did not want to watch TV, not when I had the fascinating Jessi available for conversation.

"No," I said. "Let's talk."

"I'm not that interesting," the petite blonde said, blushing a little, as she sat down at the table.

"Oh, I doubt that is true," I countered, finally turning the tables a bit on her by holding her gaze just a bit longer than was comfortable. But my victory was short lived.

"I would rather talk about you," she said, her eyes suddenly intense. "Have you fucked Big Tits yet?"

I had just taken a bite of pizza, and I nearly coughed. As I chewed, I did my best to convey, using my facial expression and eyes, a lack of awareness of what she meant. However, I was pretty sure I knew to whom she was referring, and I did not really want to address that subject. So, I chewed slowly.

Jessi was wise to me, however, and as soon as I swallowed my food, she asked again. This time, I hurriedly took a drink of water, but I knew I would have to say something as Jessi was staring at me again in her disconcerting way, a smirk on her face.

"I am not sure who you mean," I started, when I had swallowed my water.

"You know who I mean," she interrupted. "Jessika with a 'k'."

"So, you call Jessika 'Big Tits'?" I asked, trying to keep my expression neutral, although I felt the heat of a blush.

"Yes," Jessi answered, still staring. "When you asked us for nicknames, I almost suggest it for her. But, I decided to tell you to call me 'Jessi' instead."

"I like 'Jessi'," I said, but she interrupted me again.

"I like 'Jessi' too, but that it not the point. And you are trying to avoid my question, Mr. Warner," the lovely blonde accused.

"It was very generous of you to volunteer to use your nickname," I said, smiling. "Suggesting your proposed nickname for Jessika would not have been very nice."

"Oh, I wouldn't have really said it," Jessi admitted. "I just wanted to. I wanted to all semester, every class. I don't think she knows how to buy a top that doesn't shove them in everyone's face."

"I'm not sure it was that bad," I said, and I knew as soon as the words left my mouth that I had said the wrong thing.

"You wouldn't. You certainly spent a lot of time staring at her tits," Jessi sneered, her bright blue eyes flashing.

"Jessi..." I began, but her glare stopped me short.

"It was so frustrating," she said, looking away. "The first class – I couldn't believe I actually had a hot English teacher. I sat in the front instead of in the back, where I usually do. I was all ready to try to make a good impression when Big Tits walked in and sat in the front row too. You didn't see this, but the moment she saw you, she adjust her shirt to show more of her boobs. I am surprised she didn't just take them out and plop them on the table."

"You did make an impression that first day," I told her, trying to catch her eye.

Jessi laughed, then continued, "Not the right impression. All I could do was stare, which is something I try not to do because I am never sure when I am doing it too much. Then I tried to talk to you after class, but I was so nervous I could only talk about class."

"You did fine," I reassured her. "You seemed quite confident."

"No," she laughed, still looking away. "I seemed awkward. You took my bluntness, which is worse when I am feeling so awkward, as confidence. That happens to me."

As she raised her eyes up again and looked at me, I saw tears glistening in the corners of them. I started to speak, but Jessi reached across the table and put her finger to my lips.

"Shhh. Let me finish this. It is hard for me to say all this," she told me. "I'm sure you have realized by now that I can be pretty socially awkward. I always liked numbers better than people, and math has always been my favorite subject, as well as a kind of refuge. But then in high school I found that I could connect with people through sex. So, that started me down the path of being the sluttiest math nerd anyone ever met."

I nodded and forced myself not to try to reassure Jessi. But it was difficult. I wanted to take her in my arms and hug her.

Jessi continued, "English, writing, literature – those things were never good for me. I just did not get it. I could follow the form of an essay, but I never had anything to write. Then last year I had that dickhead who marked me down when I tried to express my opinion. So there I was, a math nerd dreading my second try at English 101, when I saw a man who instantly turned me into a horny math nerd who wanted very much to do my best in English; a man I could barely talk to; a man who made me so nervous that when I did try to speak in class, it never came out like it should have, which made it all worse for me."

Jessi inhaled deeply, leaned forward toward me, and skewered me with an ice cold stare.

"The worst part of it all," she informed me, "was that the object of my lust – my older, very intelligent, very sex English teacher, the man who made me wet every time he looked at me – could not quit staring at a chubby slut with her big tits hanging out."

I did not agree with Jessi's assessment of Jessika as chubby, or her characterization of the brunette as a slut, but I decided to say nothing at all, which made it all the more surprising to me when I blurted out, "Not on Halloween."

Jessi stared at me, open mouthed, seemingly as surprised by my comment as I had been, before a huge grin spread across her face.

"Halloween was awesome," the pretty, young blonde agreed. "You could not keep your eyes off me that class. And Big Tits did not like that. She almost ran up to you after class. But that was fine with me. I knew that, for at least that night, I was the one you wanted, not her."

"You looked amazing in that costume," I concurred, remembering the contrast of the black of her corset against her creamy white skin. "It was very sexy, and very naughty."

"You don't know the half of it – the bra cups on the corset are detachable."

The visual of Jessi's perfect, white, bare breasts pushed up by the tight black corset made me miss a breath or two. It also made me realize that my penis had started to stiffen during Jessi's story.

"Anyway, that was just one day. The next class, Big Tits wore a t-shirt that was a size too small and was cut to show almost the entire side of her boob, and you were lost to me again," she explained, a sad smile on her face.

"No," I told her, shaking my head. "I was always interested in you. I could not quit thinking about you. The way you stared at me was both disconcerting and alluring. However, I did not think you were interested in me, other than as an instructor."

Jessi started to protest, but I interrupted her, "Please, let me tell you this."

She nodded and bit her lower lip.

"Every time I tried to draw you out in conversation to learn something more about you, you always turned the topic back to classwork," I continued. "And your essays never revealed anything either. But, the more I struggled to learn about you, the more fascinated I became."

"Really?" Jessi asked, her pretty, delicate face shining.

"Really," I assured her. "I admit that I find Jessika very attractive, and that it was hard to look away from her cleavage some times, but your eyes captured me just as much.

"Well, your eyes and that pink bra you wore under your big sweater last week," I chuckled. Did you let me see down your shirt on purpose?"

Jessi cast her eyes down, a sheepish smile on her face, and blushed. The effect was enthralling.

"Ummm, yes," she confirmed. "I leaned over so you could look down my shirt."

"It was fantastic," I told her. "I could not stop thinking about it all that night."

"Good," Jessi said, her eyes back on mine, her blush fading.

"I want to ask you something," I said. "Why did you leave so quickly the last class?"

"I had not meant to," she admitted, "but once I was there, I could not face you. I did not know what I would do if you just thanked me and took my paper. That is when I came up with my plan for tonight – to wait until after grades posted and be as forward with you as I would be with any other guy."

Jessi laughed and reached out to take my hand.

"And look," she continued, "it worked."

"It did," I confirmed, squeezing her hand as I smiled at her.

We sat like that for several moments, gazing into each other eyes, before Jessi steered us back to dangerous waters I thought I had completely avoided.

Letting go of my hand and sitting back in her chair, the petite blonde said, "You almost avoided my question, Mr. Warner – did you fuck Big Tits?"

I lowered my eyes, trying to think of what to say, but that action itself was answer enough for Jessi.

"You did," she groaned, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"Yes, I did," I confirmed.

"When," the now angry woman across the table demanded.

"Last Thursday, after the last class," I told her.

"Fuck!" she snarled. "That bitch did not even wait until after the semester. What a fucking slut!"

"Please, Jessi," I began, but she again cut me off with a glare.

"Did she fuck you for a grade, Mark?" she snarled.