Page 2 of Slurp

Maybe now is a good time for a nap...

Chapter two

“Edith, Edith wake up.” Oddly enough, that sounded exactly like... “Edith, it’s Professor Durban. You need to wake up now.” Oh fuck!

My eyes fly open and I sit up, only to instantly regret the fast movement as the room spins uncontrollably.

“Woah, there. A little more gently, perhaps?” All I can smell is him. I don’t know if it’s his aftershave, cologne, soap, or something that is just so uniquely him, but the citrusy notes hit my senses and have me nearly purring. His arm snakes behind my neck to offer support as he slowly helps me to sit up.

The room is still a bit wobbly if I am being completely honest. But that could also just be all my hormones going absolutely fucking berserk at the close proximately to the man who has been playing one of the two primary stars in my inspiration sessions with my vibrator.

“Don’t baby herRhett. She is stronger than you’re giving her credit for.” Oh great. And there would be his co-star, Professor Janine Jacobson.

So not only have I managed the fall of the century, and am probably sporting about a dozen cuts and bruises everywhere, but I’ve surely destroyed my headset, and now I have to contend with damp panties, thanks to the last two people I want to see right now. Great. Just fucking great.

This has to be the worst Saturday in history.

Ok, maybe that is a touch dramatic, but I’m sore and horny and possibly, a bit concussed.

I open my eyes fully and am finally able to bring the room into focus. At the same time, I am nearly knocked over by the sudden appearance of a pair of half-exposed tits, as Professor Jacobson slowly runs her perfectly manicured fingers through my hair.

Yeah. This time I totally fucking purr. I do manage to check myself before I lean forward a few inches and run my tongue over her massive honkers.

Wait, what?Honkers? Where the fuck did that come from?

Professor Jacobson’s husky voice has every hair from my head to my landing strip standing on edge. “Well, it doesn’t seem that this little kitten has any severe head injuries.” She straightens before holding out her hand with two fingers. “How many fingers do you see?”

Of course, my brain—which has obviously taken up residence in my vagina now—looks beyond her fingers to her breasts, and my mouth chooses that moment to join the party. “Two glorious melons.”

And this is the moment when I died. They buried me in the cemetery the following Tuesday. It was a lovely service with a small but impactful crowd of friends and family.

The end.

What?

Ok, so maybe not myactualdeath. But it certainly felt like I died as my brain fully caught up to the shenanigans my mouth had pulled. Why, oh why, couldn’t I have been born mute?

Oh, who am I kidding? I probably would have just signed all the stupid shit I just said out loud but with more clarity in my word choices.

I mean, come on. Melons? What am I? Ten years old?

Sending a pleading gaze her way, I open my mouth to apologize, only to be shushed by those sleek sexy fingers against my lips. She smiles and leans forward again. This time she pushes her chest forward, nearly shoving them right in my face. The lean and arch are just enough to push those babies up and expose the tops of her areola.

“Like what you see, little kitten?”

Oh fuck yes I do. But... I can't say that, right? I mean, she’s my professor. That kind of relationship is forbidden. I could get expelled and she would probably be fired. I remember we aren’t alone in the room and turn my gaze to Professor Durban.

I’m not sure what type of reaction I expected, but I don’t think looking at me like I was a snack and he was a starving man with a boner that was about two seconds away from ripping right through his pressed khakis, was anywhere adjacent to my predictions. He stood slowly and walked to the door, before flipping the lock over with an audible click.

And it was at this moment that my brainfinallyregistered my location.

I wasn’t shamefully sprawled out at the bottom of the grand cement stairs leading up to the campus library. Nor was I in the campus infirmary, or any kind of medical facility like an emergency room or urgent care. Nope. Apparently, I was brought directly to Professor Durban’s posh office.

The couch I was sitting on was a supple leather. I could see a door leading to an ensuite bathroom, as well as another door that led out into the room holding floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, a large wooden desk, and another table with two chairs on either side. It was the exterior door he had lockedfirst. But as he made his way back to the more private area of his office, he shut and locked the small door here as well, before adjusting the shades.

Unsure what to expect, I simply continued to sit and watch. Professor Jacobson proceeded to slowly remove my tennis shoes and massage my feet. While Professor Durban took up a spot in the chair closest to me and watched.

After giving my poor aching soles some orgasm-worthy attention, she gently runs her fingers under the hem of my sweatshirt before giving me a look that is clearly asking for permission. I nod my head and she pulls the heavy fabric over my head. Leaving my torso fully exposed in nothing but a small yellow cotton bra.

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