Page 72 of Wicked Little Secret

Her eyes narrow. Her arms reach behind her back to do as she’s told. The bra flops away as her breasts spring free, pert and soft, begging for my mouth.

I decide to grant their wish.

Nyssa gasps as I stride forward, knot my fist in her curls to yank her head back, and suck a peak into my mouth. Her puffy nipple thickens the harder I suckle. The more I nibble on the bead, grazing it with my teeth, making her claw at me.

It’s all too much for her. Her breasts heave as she draws deep breaths and endures all the different sensations.

My hands that grope, fondle, pinch. My mouth and tongue that suck and lick.

Teeth that bite to her screams. Just hard enough to hurt a little before I’m back to kissing and swirling my tongue.

The breast play alone has her close. Right on the edge.

I shove my free hand down the front of her panties and tell her what I want. I’m driven by a dark lust that’s washed over me. That won’t be sated until I’ve taken what I want and experienced her like I’ve fantasized about.

She’ll be withering, leaking cum by the time I’m through with her.

“On the bench, Miss Oliver.”

She’s still panting for breath as she turns away and does as I say. She crawls onto the nearby wiry bench, on her hands and knees, affording me a clear view of her gorgeous round ass. I admire how her panties cling to her pussy, so thin I can make out the folds of her labia, and then I step toward her.

Slowly, indulging in the moment, I slide the pair off her. The slinky fabric rolls past her hips, thighs, legs. I grip her ankle as I tug it over the arch of her foot.

Then I’m the one without air.

My lungs run empty as soon as my eyes flick up to her pussy.

Even in the shadowy corridor of the museum, itglistens.

She’s soaking wet and plump. Her natural scent fragrant in the air.

I’m so aroused, I’m dizzy. I blink out of it and decide it’s time to lose all pretenses. Unbuttoning my shirt and shoving down my pants, my hand grips my erect cock.

“Do you know what happens next, Miss Oliver?” I ask, my throat tight.

“Professor…”

“I fuck you,” I say, stepping forward. I run my cock along the wet seam of her pussy lips and then slot myself inside.

Immediately, I lose myself to intense pleasure.

It rushes me as I slide straight into pulsing warmth. On all sides, my cock’s sheathed in wet heat. The rest of me buzzes from sensory overload.

Every muscle’s tense. Every nerve’s tingling. My skin’s flushed and my brain’s mush.

I groan sinking into the soft hole, then grope Nyssa’s hips and thighs.

She’s squeezed shut her eyes and hung her head, like she’s deep in her own pleasure. She’s adjusting to the thickness and girth of me.

Her slender shoulders quiver, the center of her spine arched so gracefully.

Erotically.

I draw back slowly, building anticipation, then I return to the warmth. I sink back into the pulsing heat and revel in the instant clench.

Her pussy kneading me. Her pussy fluttering around me.

It’s forbidden. It’s something I’m never supposed to do. I’m never supposed to touch a student, let alone have sex with one.

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