Friday Night

Friday. Almost a week since Elliot had happened upon her in her lingerie. She would assign the class a very difficult essay to write in class, she decided. She would be distracted all weekend in grading them, and, even better, it felt like she was getting revenge for every one of those glances he had given her during the week. And today, to further exact revenge for making her blush in front of her own class she would be wearing a tight pencil skirt. He would see she could be sexy and severe at the same time.

Elliot saw. Ms. Monroe was wearing a slim black satin skirt and a loose white blouse, buttoned high at the neck and pinched at the waist by a short grey vest. He could have gone to the front of the class, bent her over her desk, and pulled that teasing fabric up over the swell of her hips. But then she announced a surprise in-class essay and his attention turned.That's convenient.Everyone groaned, putting their copies of Hamlet back in their book bags. Elliot knew this was an exercise in futility; the chances he was going to be able to block out the sinuous movement of Ms. Monroe's body pacing along the edge of the classroom were slim to none.Fucking siren.

The hour-long period allotted for the essay felt like the progress of a glacier for Elliot. His essay was practically incoherent. Maybe he could tell Ms. Monroe that he felt sick―she might even let him rewrite it for more credit. Or he could go to office hours and explain exactly why he hadn't been able to concentrate: when she bent over her desk, the hole between her neckline and the buttons at her neck revealed her cleavage, bordered by the scalloped edge of her black lace bra. The image seemed to loop in his brain, slowly evolving into a fantasy in which he had the same view but this time without the white shirt and from above, as she kneeled before him.

At the end of the exam, Ms. Monroe announced that they would begin the discussion of Hamlet on Monday, and that anyone concerned about his or her grade could come see her during her office hours at eight o'clock. Elliot was planning on it, since his essay had been finished in a frenzied rush, and lacked both a conclusion and sense. He wasn't so sure about eight o'clock, though.

Sam spent an hour allaying the fears of worried students. Maybe the trick had been too cruel. She decided to count the essay for half the credit, so her poor students' grades didn't suffer horribly. Elliot hadn't shown up by nine o'clock, so she figured she was safe; her plan had worked. She bade good night to the last student, a small girl with wide eyes and a smooth writing style.Time to get you out of these clothes and into something more comfortable.The fire was already flickering merrily in her room.

Sam had unbuttoned her shirt when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Had one of her students left something in the office? She looked around as she went to the door and opened it. Looking up, her stomach jumped.

"Elliot, I'm afraid my office hours are over."

"I know, Ms. Monroe. I'm really sorry, but I had lacrosse practice and I only just got out of the shower. I think I did terribly on my essay, and I was hoping we could talk about for five minutes." He neglected to mention that lacrosse practice had been cancelled that day due to the sudden appearance of flu-like symptoms in five of the players. "Of course, if you were busy, I understand. I always seem to interrupt you at the worst possible moment." He received the blush he had been expecting. He did not receive the reluctance he had also been expecting. Ms. Monroe actually opened the door widened, smiling wryly.

"Come on in. I have your essay right here. And you're right. You did a terrible job. I was surprised, actually."No, I'm not.

Elliot ran a hand through his wet hair.Just like last week,Sam thought. She realized with a jolt that her shirt was unbuttoned and that without those buttons done up carefully, she was actually showing―considering the situation―an indecent amount of cleavage.It's okay. I'm totally in control of this situation.She picked up Elliot's essay, covered in the brutal marks of her red pen and turned to him with a frown. His shirt was open at the top too, revealing that gold medal again, catching the light playfully. His hair had fallen in his face and he smoothed it back with a careless hand. Sam was stricken by the impropriety of the situation and by the sudden rush of absolutely depraved thoughts that suddenly clamored for attention in her mind. How she would love to feel that hand, so much bigger than her own, pull her hair out of it's high pony tail, feel his fingers pulling at her tangles, burying themselves in her curls. Her frown disappeared, consternation replaced by a quivering fear and the towering force of her own lust. She hoped to God he had only come to discuss the paper.

She went to her desk and Elliot followed close behind. Pausing at the side, she turned.

"Explain to me first why a normally talented writer suddenly can't string to ideas together. I realized I sprung this on you all without notice, but your writing really seemed to suffer for the lack of warning. Is this just what I should expect when you don't have time to prepare?"

"It's―I just couldn't concentrate today. If you could let me rewrite it, I think I could give you something better. I don't have to prepare myself... for the writing part."

"Very well. I'll consider it. We all have our off days, and I know you can do better than this. Would you like to meet Saturday in my office to have another go? I think I can come up with an appropriate topic for you."

"Is there any way I could take it, maybe in the library. You don't have to be there. I mean, I could have someone else proctor if you're busy."

"I don't think that's an option. And besides, I'm not too busy for one of my students. I just don't trust your classmates that far―no offense. Why don't we meet in the library on Saturday morning?"

"Can you promise me you'll wear something else Saturday?" Ms. Monroe's eyes widened. Her heart missed a beat: she hadn't realized how close he was. He was just waiting for her, waiting for a signal to close the remaining inches between them.

"I―I can't see what that has to do with anything. I wouldn't be wearing the same outfit tomorrow, anyway―"

"You know exactly what that has to do with it. The only thing worse would have been that pink teddy."

"I―I'm not―this isn't―"

"It's not." He moved closer, pinning her to the side of the desk. She looked into his eyes, hypnotized. His hand went to her hip. Sam gasped. "It's not appropriate. It's not legal. It's not a good idea. It's also not something I can overcome. Believe me, I tried." Sam was melting into the wood of her desk, held there by Elliot's hips. He looked down at her with burning eyes. She couldn't possibly...

"I tried to distract myself, but I can't stop thinking about you. You're so fucking hot, and the image of you almost naked, reaching into that drawer, has been driving me mad all week. Don't tell me you didn't notice. I had to leave class on Monday to go―to go―"

"Don't. I know. I know. I can't stop―I want you. There, now can you please go? I said it, but there's no way I'm going to let you have what you want." She writhed against his pelvis, trying to push him back.

"That's not helping," he whispered. And Sam stopped, realizing what she was doing to him, realizing with a sudden flood of both relief and fear that he wasn't going anywhere, that there was no stopping him. With that, she let herself go.

She leaned into his chest and twisted her hips. "Does that help, then?" She could feel him growing against her. He buried his fingers in her hair and lowered his head to kiss her. There was no turning back, only the frightening and thrilling prospect of the next few hours.

His mouth was hot against hers. He pulled her closer, making her moan into his mouth.

"Ms. Monroe―"

"No, you have to call me Sam, Elliot."

"Sam. Sam, I've been dreaming about you every night. I can't stop thinking about you naked under me, about you touching yourself on that rug in front of the fire." He was telling her this as he pulled the edge of the black skirt up. He slowly peeled it over the tightest point around her hips. Sam was shaking in his arms and it was making him lose control of himself. Her legs freed from the confines of her skirt, Sam spread her legs slightly, taking Elliot between them as she shifted onto the desk. He stroked her thighs and began kissing her neck. It was too much―Sam hadn't felt this kind of contact with another man for years. She could offer no resistance. Elliot's fingers found the soaked fabric between her legs. His cock ached. Sam was animated by her own long-suppressed lust. She moaned softly, over and over, as her roving hands undid the button of Elliot's pants. She could feel the bulge they were hiding.

"Elliot, Elliot," she mumbled between kisses, "I want you. I want you in me. Fuck--"

She broke off as his thrust two fingers into her wet pussy.

"I've been wanting to do that." He withdrew his fingers, making Sam cry out. Elliot turned her around and bent her over the desk. His two fingers found the ridges along the upper wall of her vagina, stroked them until Sam's moans were spiraling higher. The sight of his teacher, naked from the waist down, completely at his mercy made him dizzy. He knelt down and buried his face in her pussy, licking her clit, fucking her with his tongue. She tasted sharp and tart.

Elliot felt Sam getting closer. She was mumbling―fuck-fuck-yes-yesyesyesyes―and get louder. He suddenly pulled away, looking down at her wet cunt and then the stunned look on her face.

"Stand up." Sam did as she was told. Elliot gently unzipped her skirt and pulled it down with her panties, letting her step out of them. Then he pulled her shirt up over her head, revealing the taut stomach and luscious skin of her breasts and the slim strip of hair leading down to her very swollen sex. Sam wasn't going to be naked in front of him. She unbuttoned his shirt, reveling in the smooth, broad chest and then moved on to his pants, forcing them down. His cock, now free, was pressed into her as he moved to step out of his pants. The contact made him shudder.

Sam took the cue and knelt down in front of him. It had been two years since she'd been able to do this. It was like finally satisfying a craving. She enveloped the head with her hot, wet mouth, making Elliot moan. The movements were coming back to her: she bobbed and licked and sucked, suddenly taking him all and then pulling away lightly, teasing the underside with her tongue. He grabbed her hair, forcing her head away.

"Not now. You have to stop." His voice was hoarse and his eyes heavy-lidded. "I need to fuck you." She looked up with a small smile and an evil gleam in her eyes. "I've been dreaming about sinking my cock into your pussy for seven days now."

"Is that what you want? You want to fuck me? You want to take me? How?"

Elliot looked surprised. "In―in your bed. I want to fuck you so hard you can't help but remember it whenever you sleep there. And then I want to fuck you on the rug in front of the fire. And the I want you bent over the desk, still in your heels."

"You think you can? You're--" she hesitated "--so young." She looked coyly up at him. "There's still up against the wall, in the shower, from behind..."

Elliot smiled like a wolf. "You'd better be careful what you wish for, Sam."

"Follow me." Sam beckoned him into her room and onto the bed. She turned into him, letting him push her back onto the smooth surface of her duvet. He straddled her hips, devouring her neck. He drew little moans from her. Sam ran her hands down his back, cupping his ass to guide it slowly down. Elliot resisted long enough to dip his head to her breasts, tracing the ridge of one nipple with his tongue. Sam was panting; she couldn't wait any longer. She pulled her self out from under him and inched back until she was in the center of the bed. She looked at the canopy above her which had been witness to the past year's entirely solo sex and smiled. Elliot crawled over her, his muscles flexing as he lowered himself onto her, his body pressing her's into the down comforter.

"Please," murmured Sam. "I need you in me." She bit her lower lip and exhaled, grasping his cock and guiding it between her legs. Elliot moaned as the tip met her wet entrance. It parted her lips with an obscene, wet sucking sound and slid slowly into her. The ridges of her canal stroked him as he pushed. Sam's tongue was running along his lower lip as he moaned into her mouth. She was hot and slick and so obviously in need: she quivered with every movement and the friction inside of her made her clench his cock in incontrollable little ripples. She moaned and sighed and groaned, her hands running down his chest or clenching in his hair. Their naked skin was golden in the flickering firelight. "You're so big. Mph. Fuck, that feels good. God, I knew you would be good. Fuck, yeah, fuck my pussy with that huge cock. You're gonna make me cum so hard. Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah. Harder, please, mmmm..." She trailed off into incoherent moans as he pumped in and out, harder and faster. She was so sexy, Elliot was dizzy. He could feel her breasts bouncing against his chest as he pounded her, could feel her writhing under him with each thrust. "Fuck, Sam, I'm gonna cum soon." She opened her eyes. "Good," she whispered. "So am I." He pressed his hips into hers to increase the friction on her clit and buried one hand in her hair. Sam could feel her body respond instantly. He was pulling her hair and fucking her so hard she forgot herself.

"Ohh, Elliot. Yes, yes, fuck me, yesyesyesyes. I'm cumming, ohhh, I'm cumming on your cock." Elliot was consumed. He pulled himself down on top of her and felt the surge of his cum shooting into her clenching pussy. He rode her as the aftershocks subsided until they were both entirely still and panting.

"Oh, fuck me, that was good." Elliot laughed weakly. Sam stared into his sharp blue eyes. "Thank you."

"Well, I can already think of a few good ways you could do that..."

Sam's eyes widened. "Already? I underestimated you. Most guys need at least a few good hours to recover. No wonder you were so restless in my lectures." In response, Elliot pulled out of her and ran the tip of his dick lightly over her clit, eliciting a gasp. Sam was enjoying the tug of war of power between them and decided to escalate it. She wiggled out from under him and then slid onto her stomach in front of him. She took him in her hand and let the tip of her tongue slide along his length until she felt it stiffen slightly. Then she lifted herself so that they were on their knees facing each other. She could feel his cum sliding out of her, mingling with her own juices and dripping down her legs, making her sticky and wet. Her nipples brushed his chest and his growing erection nudged her soft mound more and more insistently.

"I believe you promised to fuck me on the rug in front of the fire next..." She trailed one finger down his chest as she glanced over at the tufty white rug being warmed by the dancing flames. Elliot needed no further encouragement; he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her off the bed. He sank into the rug, pulling Sam down on top of him. She spread her legs to straddle his pelvis, her wet thighs shining in the light. She arched her back gently as she kissed his chest, giving him a full view of her ass held high in the air. He sighed his appreciation. "Samantha, you are so sexy. I can't help myself."

"Good thing you don't need to any more." Sam widened her legs, lowering herself onto Elliot's pole until she was completely filled. She rolled her hips as she raised herself again, clenching and unclenching as she stroked him with her pussy. Elliot pushed himself up, crushing her against his chest, one hand on her back as she continued to ride him. Luckily, this time they would both last a little longer. No sooner had he thought this than Sam pushed him back down and began to play with her clit with one hand and one erect nipple with the other. As she bounced up and down on his cock, the two plump globes of her breasts bounced too. Her left hand moved to the other nipple, pinching it and squeezing the plump flesh as she moaned. The fingers of her right hand danced over her throbbing clit and slid down around her entrance to collect the sticky juices there, encircling the thick cock she was impaling herself with. He could feel the beginnings of her orgasm, the faint twitch of the tight muscles. Suddenly she was leaning back on one hand, her fingers grinding into her clit, her hips bucking against his, her breasts undulating. She trembled and then exhaled a flurry of "fuck me's". Elliot was almost shocked by the swiftness and power of her orgasm. Sam recovered quickly and she looked almost apologetic as she settled next to him with her back to the fire. "Sorry I didn't wait for you. That's just my favorite position."

"Mm, I think it's my new favorite, too. I swear to God I've never seen anything hotter in my life. I'm going to be using that image."

"Oh really? Well if that's the best I can do... But why don't we see if we can expand your fantasy repertoire. What do you want to do next? Really, really want to do. Anything."

Elliot hesitated. "Really, really anything?"

"Sure, as long as it's not, you know, too painful. And no, you know, water play outside of the shower." Elliot mouth opened slightly.

"I really could never have believed you were so kinky! You're an English teacher!"

"I'myourEnglish teacher. Which means maybe―no, I'm sorry, I know it's too late now but--"

"Look, we can't go back, but we can stop if you want. If you don't want... no, listen--" he ran his fingers over the insides of her thighs in the hopes of quelling her protest, "If you want to continue I'll tell you what I want you to do. Do you want to stop?"

A sigh. "No, what I want is so very much the antithesis of that. Tell me, tell me what you want me to do." She rolled into his arms.

"What I want you to do, "he whispered into her ear, "is tell me what's in the drawer I caught you opening last Friday." Her shock brought out the malicious sparkle in his eye. "So it is something special?"

"Special. Indeed. Well, I suppose it can't lead to much worse than we're already guilty of..." She rose and walked with swaying hips over to the armoire. "Should I pull it all out?"

"Sure." Sam grasped the vibrators, the dildos, the handcuffs she'd kept from her fiance. She delighted in the surprise in Elliot's eyes. He hadn't been expecting that.

"You know, I would hazard that things might actually get alotworse from here..."