And she thought she could use our ill-conceived sexual encounter to blackmail me into a better grade. In the end, I had to decide whether I wanted to let her hold that over my head forever, or whether I wanted to come clean, and I picked coming clean.
I admitted everything, the professor for the class graded her final paper, and I was barely permitted to remain in my Ph.D. program. And now everyone knows that once, I slept with an undergraduate, and they treat me a little like a pariah.
“It’s just someone I’m seeing,” I tell Greg. “Nothing too exciting or salacious.”
That might be the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Chapter 7
Melody
I know I shouldn’t be texting Professor Sharpe with these pictures, but I can’t help myself. Ever since Saturday night, he’s practically all I can think about — the look in his eyes as I fucked myself with that strange stone dildo, the way he leaned over my chair and whispered when finals are over.
I know he won’t respond. I know that he has a lot at stake, and that I don’t really — my academic reputation, I guess, but that’s not such a big deal.
So I eye the big purple dildo and send him another selfie. I don’t even care if I’m coming on too strong. I want him.
Fifteen minutes later, my phone rings. It’s the Professor, and it sounds like he’s outdoors and maybe a little out of breath.
“You’re a dangerous girl, Melody,” he says, keeping his voice low.
I bite my lip, blushing.
“Am I?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, his voice thick with authority. “My department chair just saw you naked and about to fuck something purple.”
Shit. I hadn’t even thought about other people seeing the pictures — I just wanted so desperately for Professor Sharpe to know how I felt that I didn’t consider it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t think.”
There’s the sound of a door shutting, and then his end of the line is hushed, like he’s indoors.
“Did you fuck it yet, or am I too late?” he asks.
I’m on my bed, naked, the dildo next to me. I haven’t fucked it yet — okay, not in the past hour — because I was hoping for this, that he’d call me back. I swallow hard, trying not to smile.
“Not yet,” I say.
He growls.
“Get your clothes off,” he orders.
“They already are,” I say. “I’m lying on my bed, naked, thinking about you.”
“Touch yourself,” he says. “Start with your perky little titties. Pinch your nipples and moan for me.”
Chills rush down my spine at the sound of his voice telling me what to do, and my pussy gets wetter with every syllable. I clamp my knees together, but it doesn’t help at all. I want him, and I want him now — not this dildo.
But I do what he says. I let my fingers drift down my body until I’m pinching one nipple between them, and a moan escapes me as I do.
He chuckles on the other end.
“Do you like thinking about my hands on your tight little body?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, still rolling a swollen nipple between my fingers.
“Lower,” he says. “Slide your fingers between those pretty little lips and tell me how wet you are for me.”
I do it, panting for the breath into the phone, and I lick my lips.
“I’m really wet, Professor,” I say, my voice breathy. “So wet, just thinking about you...”
“Rub your clit slowly,” he says. “Don’t make yourself come. I have one requirement, Melody.”
I rub myself in circles, forcing myself to go slow, even though it feels like torture.
“What’s that?”
“You come when I say.”
I swallow.
“Yes, Professor,” I whisper.
“Rub yourself until you’re on the brink,” he says. “And then stop, because you’re going to fuck yourself to orgasm.”
I moan into my phone again, rubbing my clit harder and faster. The pressure builds inside me, spurred on by his perfect, sexy voice, and by being ordered around like this.
I like being told what to do. I want to give control to him, my professor, let him take me completely and utterly.
“I’m close,” I whimper soon. My eyes are closed and my breathing is shallow. I want to rub myself a little faster and come hard with him on the other end of the line, but instead, I slow down and wait for instructions.
“Stop touching yourself,” he says. “Take the dildo and rub it along your pussy, just like in the photo.”
I grab the dildo and slide it along myself, groaning. I’m incredibly, ridiculously wet, even for this piece of purple silicone.
Then I realize two things simultaneously.
One, he doesn’t know about the suction cup. He thinks it’s a regular dildo.
And two, I have video chat capabilities, and Erica’s not home.
“Professor,” I say, the dildo still nudging at my lips. “Can I show you something?”
I’m already getting off the bed, grabbing the dildo, and heading for the bathroom.
“Show me?” he asks.
I wet the dildo and stick it to the shower wall at the right height, over the lip of the tub. Then I activate video chat on my phone, heart hammering, and prop it up on the bathroom counter.
After a few moments, his face flickers onto the screen, and I minimize him so I can see myself better.
I clear my throat.
“It’s got a suction cup,” I say nervously, pointing at the dildo mounted on the wall.
Professor Sharpe is silent, and for a horrible moment, I think he’s about to sign off.
Then he speaks.
“Get in front of it and bend over,” he finally commands, his voice so low that it’s practically breaking with lust.
I do it, steadying my hands on the lip of the tub, my ass high in the air.
“That’s a very large cock,” he says quietly. “Are you sure you can handle it?”
“It’s not as big as yours,” I say.
“Are you sure?” he asks, a smile in his voice.
I just nod.
“I like the practice,” I whisper.
“Show me how you practice,” he says. “And don’t come until I say.”
Suddenly I’m nervous again, because the show is up to me and I don’t want to let him down. I’ve never done anything like this before — I’ve never even masturbated in front of a boyfriend, and now I’m putting on a full-fledged sex show in my bathroom.
I move backward until the cock is right at my entrance. And then, with a gasp, I slide it inside of me in one long, smooth stroke and I grunt as I do, the sound tearing itself from my lips.
“Tell me how it feels,” he demands.
“It feels good,” I manage to gasp. “So fucking good.”
I start fucking the dildo, moving back and forth slowly and carefully, letting him watch as every inch of it enters and leaves my pussy.
“Keep going,” he says. “Just like that. I like watching you slow.”
I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating completely on the huge fake cock filling my tight hole. When it’s all the way inside me it feels so good it’s almost impossible to think, and I have to force myself not to go too fast, because I want to slam myself back onto it, again and again, until I come hard for the Professor.
“I would never have guessed a straight-A student could be this dirty,” Professor Sharpe growls. “It’s a very pleasant surprise.”
I can only gasp, the sound quickly becoming a moan.
“You like having your pussy stuffed full like that, don’t you,” the Professor goes on.
I just nod. I can’t speak, because it’s taking everything I’ve got not to come right this instant, the heat burning hot and wild through my body. It just feels so fucking good to have a giant cock inside me with the Professor’s voice telling me what to do, even if he’s not actually here.
“Please let me come,” I beg. “Professor, I can’t last long like this.”
I slide the cock in one more time, moaning so loud the downstairs neighbors can probably hear me, but I can’t stop myself. My legs are shaking, and I need release more than I’ve ever needed it before.
“Please,” I whisper.
There’s a long pause. I don’t move, the cock stuffed all the way inside me, because I’m certain that if I do I’ll come so hard I’ll scream, and he hasn’t said I can yet.
“Come,” he finally commands.
I move forward and the dildo lights up every spot inside my incredibly sensitive channel. I’m pure desperation and need and I start slamming myself back onto the big purple cock, moaning and gasping and grunting and a few strokes later everything goes white.
I come so hard I’m afraid my knees will buckle, a pure bolt of pleasure washing through my whole body as I shake, my hands gripping the lip of the tub hard.
As it passes, I realize I’m whispering something, over and over again.
“Please fuck me,” I’m saying. “Please fuck me, please.”
The Professor grunts, but he’s tiny in the corner of my screen and I can’t see him. I’m oddly disappointed, because I really liked watching his thick white jizz arc over his office on Saturday.
Then I’m still bent over, gasping. I pull the dildo out and stand, suddenly shy, my arms cross over myself, legs clamped together.