You and I show up together at the annual dinner for my department at the college. I'm wearing a nice outfit but nothing fancy: chinos, blue cotton oxford shirt, docksiders, tie, and tweed jacket. Your outfit is more striking, and very well chosen: it's sexy, showing a bit of cleavage and a fair amount of your legs, but it's not slutty or inappropriate for this kind of dinner.
I introduce you as my "friend." I'm not any more specific than that. I want to torture them, trying to figure out exactly what is going on between us. Eyebrows are raised when it comes out that you are a student, but you calmly explain that you attend a nearby college, not ours, so I'm not breaking any sexual harassment rules. The faculty wives and my female colleagues (mostly matronly middle-aged women) stare daggers at you, knowing that you're giving their husbands hard-on's, like they haven't been able to give them in years. The men all want to talk to you and flirt with you. (Well, except for the one gay guy in my department and his "date.") You ask them sincere questions about what they work on. Teachers love to explain what they do, especially to sexy women, so they're charmed by how ingenuous you are, and can tell that you're bright. That makes them even more horny for you, and more jealous of me.
Soon you're surrounded by a circle of randy professors, "chatting you up" (as the British say). I wave from the other side of the room, and say, "Allie, could I see you for a second?" and you immediately come over to me. We share a quick smile, cause we both know I'm doing this just to show them that you belong to me tonight, and that I can take you any time I want to.
After dinner, people are milling around talking some more. The other professors and husbands are being a little less obvious about flirting with you, after some angry looks or comments from their wives, so you and I are able to duck into the hall for a minute. "Come this way," I whisper, and take your hand, leading you upstairs. I know the house we're in, and I guide you to the guest bedroom. I close the door behind us, and give you an evil grin: "Pull your skirt up and spread 'em," I order. You smile and bite your lower lip, before quickly complying. I reach down to pull off the g-string you're wearing, and enjoy the sight of your hot pussy, which is already wet and open in anticipation.
You want my cock, but I surprise you by bringing my face down between your legs, and licking your wet slit. You gasp at how good it feels, then gradually start to grind your hips against my face. Still, you manage to smile and say, "Isn't this kind of rude? Fucking in the guest bedroom of a colleague's house?"
"The professor who owns this house is an asshole," I answer in between licks. "I hope it drives him crazy to smell fresh young pussy in his house and know he can't have it!"
"What if I decide to give him some of my pussy, though?" you taunt me.
I give you a cruel look, which simultaneously frightens and arouses you. Then I flip onto my back and order quietly, "Sit on my face."
You happily comply, but after a few seconds of feeling my tongue sliding deliciously between your cunt-lips, you realize why I made you change positions: I start to pinch your sexy, well-rounded ass. You wince and twitch your hips with every bite of my fingers. It hurts, but you realize you're loving it almost as much as a good spanking. I push you off my face for a second to whisper, "You'll get a lot worse than this if you share your pussy with anyone I don't tell you to."
"Fuck you," you quietly moan back at me.
That's it. You feel my hand grab your hair and jerk you by the head onto your back on the floor. You know the floor is reserved for times that I really want to ream you out, nice and hard. The floor is so wonderfully unforgiving underneath a slut getting a good cock-ramming.
You're wet and ready, but you still have to stifle a yell, because you're surprised by the force with which I ram into your cunt. "Little whore!" I growl as I start pounding. You instinctively wrap your legs around my ass. My arms are beside your head, holding your head in place with a vice-like grip on your hair. You bite your lip, letting out only quiet whimpers, although it feels so good you wish you could scream. We mustn't be discovered, but I have to do something, even if the sound gives us away. "You deserve this," I growl, before slapping you fiercely across the face. I smile, basking in the realization that there's nothing as sweet as slapping a slut while you're fucking her, and feeling her pussy tighten on your cock while you do it.
We know it won't be long before we're missed, so I don't hold back. "Take my spunk!" I moan as I cum in your wet, inviting cunt.
No time for rest and cuddling. "Did you have time to cum?" I whisper.
"No, it's okay though," you say, smiling.
"Frig yourself off," I order. You look unsure. My voice becomes meaner: "Play with your fucking cunt, you bitch!" That's what you needed to hear. Your eyes roll back into your head as you finger your clit, while I alternate sucking your nipples and exploring your mouth with my tongue. In a few seconds, you're quietly gasping in orgasm.
Zip. Button. Pull up. We're dressed in seconds and heading down the stairs. There are no obvious signs that we've done anything, but we both have fuck-pheromones all over ourselves, so the men are even more attentive to you, and more envious of me, when we rejoin the party.
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