Nellie and The Professor

A startled sort of giggle burst from my lips when he swore, culminating in a groan as he thrust inside me. I bit my lip as he mumbled something, not quite loud enough for me to hear.

"What was that, Professor?"

He groaned again, panting slightly, and I felt his cock twitch inside me.

"Don't," he gasped. "I can't... don't call me that."

"It sounds like you kind of like it."

"It's the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life."

I rolled my eyes and pushed my ass back against him.

"Stop overthinking, Professor Cameron, and just fuck me."

Ben shuddered and it crossed my mind that I may be what some people call a bad influence. I mean, I understood why he might not want me to call him Professor while he was fucking me. The reasoning could range from simple guilt that he was giving in to the fantasy of being with a student, to anxiety that no one would be able to call him Professor Cameron ever again without bringing up the image of my mouth wrapped around his cock that he'd worked so hard to memorize.

However, it was really hard to feel remorse when he started driving his cock in me so hard I could barely hold myself up.

It was even harder when I squeaked out a breathy "Oh yes, Professor," and he practically roared. His hands left my hips, one snaking around to my clit and the other wrapped around my ribs, gripping my breast hard.

It took a moment of repositioning, but once he had, his legs were outside of mine, his cock was stretching me wide open again, and the only thing keeping my face from crashing into the mattress was the sheer strength of Ben's arms. He drove into me, fingering me hard, his breath hot against my back.

"Again," he grunted.

I doubted he was capable of more than a single word, but I knew what he wanted, and I was grinning as I said it again.

How could I not? Ben Cameron, the silver fox, the mostly-mild-mannered psychology professor who knew better than anyone why he'd get off on me screaming out for him to "fuck me, Professor, fuck me harder," was currently doing said fucking and he was really, really good at it.

When I came, I knew he wasn't far behind. My pussy gripped his cock hard, clenching down as I writhed beneath him. A steady stream of nonsense blurted from my mouth as my vision went white, bright stars pinpricking from behind my eyelids. He wasn't quite done when I slumped forward, gasping for breath.

"Yes, Professor Ca—"

And then he was grunting, coming, his fingertips digging into my breast as he clutched at me. I grinned, loving the way he sounded as he finished, groaning and swearing softly as he pumped those last few times.

His grip on my breast loosened and he gave me time to find my arms beneath me before pulling out carefully. He didn't say anything, just sat back on his knees and watched as I lay on my stomach before rolling to my side and stretching.

"Damn," I murmured.

He chuckled a bit, face red, still catching his breath.

"I, uh... that was..."

"Hot."

"Yes. Hot."

He got up to throw the condom away before lying beside me on the bed. Spent, I was half-asleep as I curled into him. There was the briefest moment of hesitation before he put his arms around me, just long enough for me to drowsily question why I had cuddled into him like that, before I was dozing against Ben's chest.

I woke up like that a number of times that weekend, but the nagging little worry of feelings disappeared after Ben told me he was spending his sabbatical at Stanford and would be living in California for the next year.

Still, I found myself sad about it. I decided I'd cheer myself up by spending the entire weekend fucking Ben.

Aside from him taking a short trip to a drugstore to buy some condoms, neither Ben nor I left the room. We ordered room service for breakfast; delivery for dinner. I didn't so much as put a single sock on my body the rest of the weekend.

There was a jacuzzi in the room, which Ben and I sat in for ages, laughing and talking and arguing playfully. He spoke to me as an equal, rather than as a student, and I found that by the next afternoon, the "Professor Cameron" thing didn't really hold the same magic for either of us.

Though, maybe that was because he spent the rest of the weekend solely dedicated to pleasuring my body. It started with him taking my foot into his lap while we sat in the jacuzzi, massaging it after I told him about being on my feet all day. By the time we dried off and made it back to the bed, I was a mess of relaxation and arousal. Once he was done with me, I could barely move again.

I would say with almost complete certainty that Ben licked and kissed every single inch of my body over the next two days. In the case of my pussy, he kissed and licked it multiple times, making me come again and again. I had to practically hold him down to suck his cock, insisting more than once that I wanted to taste him, I wanted him to come in my mouth, before he finally believed me.

My cell phone died sometime on Friday night, and since I didn't have a charger, it wasn't until I got home late Sunday that I noticed the litany of missed calls, texts, and voicemails. A few were messages from friends—Sydney had correctly assumed I was holed up somewhere getting fucked after her third message to me—but the majority were from Nigel.

Nigel, my boss, who had switched the schedule because I wanted the second weekend of July off... and had told me to work that weekend instead.

That weekend which I had just spent getting fucked every possible way I could by Ben, completely forgetting that I even had a job to go to.

Unless you've literally been kidnapped, consider this your termination notice. We'll mail you your ROE, don't bother coming back in.

"Fuck," I muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

No job meant no money. No money meant calling my dad.

I toyed with the idea of faking a kidnapping a little more seriously than I should have before sighing. I texted Sydney back to let her know I was alive, texted Ben to say thank you for the amazing weekend but not to look for me at the restaurant, and texted Kara just to say hey and see what she was up to.

Then, having stalled all I could, I called my dad, nearly puked as I told him he was right, and asked if I could come visit him that week.

"Of course, babygirl. I'm so happy to hear that, Nellie."

"And, um, since I decided not to work there..."

"I'll ensure I transfer a little extra to your account. In an unrelated matter, Kimberlee is hosting a charity dinner on Saturday. Perhaps you could extend your visit to attend that with her."

When I hung up from talking to my dad, Sydney had texted back begging for details of the weekend, Kara texted back that she was busy with work but maybe we could hang out next week sometime, and Ben had texted asking where, exactly, he was supposed to get sauce for his chicken strips if I wasn't at the restaurant anymore.

Well you could always come over to my place and I could share the recipe... Tuesday?

A few moments later, my phone went off again and I licked my lips, grinning.

I'll pick up some chicken strips on the way.

**

Special thank you to Bebop3, norafares, and OneAuthor for their feedback and editing.

If you enjoyed this story, please consider checking out Unseen Love, a collaboration written by myself and Bebop3. Written for the Love The One(s) You're With contest, we'd love if you checked it out and voted! Read the story HERE.