The student
Joanna is a shy, student at the University. She signed up
for one of my classes this past semester and I have come to
know her reasonably well through the lectures and the small
tutorial groups. Earlier today, I found a message on the
department answering machine. "Dr. Collins, could
you please drop by tonight? I am having difficulty with
one of the problems you assigned, and maybe you could help
me with it." Well, I know that she lives in a block of
up-market apartments on the waterfront, and it is on the
route that I take home. I will stop by and see what I can do.
It is cold. A southern blast threatens to invade the building.
The front door of the complex is open so I enter. Joanna's
parents apartment is off a courtyard on the ground floor,
I knock, but there is no answer. I try the door. It is unlocked.
I open it and enter the warmth of the apartment. "Joanna?"
I call out. No answer. I enter the living room off the entrance
hall to find her curled up on the couch, feet tucked under
her asleep. She is wearing a white cashmere sweater and
a pleated, woollen skirt of dark blue. The sweater is unbuttoned
at the throat and calls my attention to the sensuous swell
of her breasts. I sit beside her, gently. She stirs, but
does not quite awaken. She murmurs sleepily, "Peter?"
I smile, and ease her feet from under her. She shifts slightly,
and lays back on the couch. I tuck her feet firmly against
my shirt, against my chest to warm them, and rub them gently.
She awakens, then, and smiles at me. My hands bring warmth
to her feet. I barely manage to confine my ministrations
to feet and ankles. My eyes, however, caress the smooth
curves of legs and hips. I help her to a sitting position,
as she again tucks her feet under her.
"Now, Joanna, what is this ferocious problem that
threatens you?" "It isn't important,
now. I managed to fix it -- I think. So, I had a glass of wine
to celebrate, and then I fell asleep. Thanks for stopping,
but I'm afraid I've wasted your time." She
smiles sheepishly and negligently places a hand on my thigh.
I stare at this young beauty. She is 19 still technically
a teenager- almost twenty years younger than I, but she
has the quiet beauty of a woman much older. "No problem,
Joanna. That's what they pay me for -- aiding young
damsels in distress." Yeah! You're a regular
knight in a rusting sports car, you are." Her laughter
is infectious, and I soon join in.
Her eyes are bright and I can see her pink tongue when she
laughs. It darts out and gently licks her lips, causing
them to glisten in the light from the fireplace. She sighs,
and looks up at me. I bend closer to her, and she moves her
face to mine. Inches, then fractions of inches, separate
our lips. Again, the tip of her tongue dances around her
full lips. Her eyes close. I close the distance, and kiss
her.
We hold the kiss for many seconds. "Damn! I thought
you'd never do that, " she whispers. "I
have wanted to kiss you since I enrolled in your class."
"We shouldn't be doing this, Joanna. It's
not quite proper for an lecturer and student..."
She cuts off my protestations with another, longer kiss.
Her tongue moves on the offensive.
I disengage from her passionate attack. "Besides,
what about your parents? If they..." and again she
silences me in the most effective way possible. "They
like you, Peter. Especially my mother. And they are visiting
friends in Hamilton. Won't be back before tomorrow
night. Now, hush, and kiss me again!" I shift closer
to her. My left arm bands her shoulders. My right hand wondrously
traces the curve of her jaw. Down from ear to chin, up to her
lips. I lightly trace her lips. My fingers trail from her
lower lip, down her throat, to rest lightly at the base of
her throat. My head lowers. I kiss her, fully and deeply.
For several minutes, we content ourselves with slow, deep
and moist kisses. Two sighs intermingle. I move her head
gently away from me and look into her eyes. She relaxes,
lays her head against my chest, and delightedly falls asleep.
I sit with my arm about her for some time, happy and warm.
The storm continues unabated. I ignore it. Her loveliness
demands my full attention as she sleeps in my arms. So loving,
so beautiful. So trusting. I gently move my hand to her thigh.
Grasping a fold of her skirt, I begin easing the hem up and
over her knees. Slowly the hem rises -- up, over her knees,
across and up her rounded thighs, above the panties hugging
her charms. She is wearing Navy blue silk stockings, with
an elastic lace embroidered hem that indents her lush thighs.
I drop my hand to the top of her stocking, and begin sliding
it up and down her leg. The feel of warm flesh through the
silk is exciting. My fingers lightly trace the stocking
top around her thigh, down to the inside of her thigh. It
takes very little pressure to move her legs apart and permit
my fingers to brush the front of her satin panties. I stroke
her soft lips through the defending garment. She sighs,
and moves her hips. Her vulva presses into my questing hand.
I shift my arm around her shoulders permitting me to caress
the soft cashmere covering her young, firm breast. I massage
the sweet mound, and my fingers find her nipple. I stroke
it into prominence, and play with breast and nipple for
several minutes. Finding I can stand it no longer, I capture
her lips with mine and kiss her awake.
I stand and extend my hand. She grasps it and stands facing
me. I pull her close. I finish unbuttoning her sweater.
I smooth the sides of the sweater away from her shoulders.
Bending slightly, I kiss the juncture of neck and shoulder
- my most favourite spot. I shudder, sigh, and lower my face
to the swell of breast above the lace top of her slip. I bury
my face between her white breasts and inhale the perfume
she has placed there. I kiss both breasts through bras and
slip. My lips rise to her neck, and to her lips. Pressing
my lips to hers, I kiss her passionately. I hold her close,
she presses her hips against me, moving them slightly in
a grinding motion. My left hand is at her neck; the right
slowly descends to the wondrous swell of hip and soft curve
of buttock. I pull her hips to me. I look into her eyes, already
glistening with desire. "My Princess of the Winter!
Command me, my Princess. And your wish shall be my desire,
my reason for being." I kiss each eyelid, and gently
wipe the sleep away. Joanna steps slightly away from me.
She takes my hands and places them at her breasts. She glances
down at her sweater, then into my eyes. A shy, trembling
smile graces her face. Her attention is focused on my eyes.
I move my fingers to the remaining buttons. One by one, I
slip them through the holes, and expose her charms. Her
eyes never leave mine. As I pull the sweater from her skirt,
she drops her arms and permits me to slide it from her. She
kisses me. The cashmere sweater lies on the floor, forgotten
now. My warm hands hold her shoulders lightly. She smiles,
sighs. She presses her breasts against my chest as she leans
forward to receive my kisses. My hand cups the back of her
head. She whispers against my lips, "I am yours."
My hands drop to her waist, seeking the buttons of her skirt.
Two buttons pose no barrier; the zipper opens noiselessly.
She steps back and permits the woollen skirt to puddle at
her ankles.
She is a study in contrasts. Lusty and wanton in sheer stockings
and high heels, and shy and innocent in a white satin slip.
She is both virgin and temptress, cool beauty and smouldering
passion. I feel as I have never felt before. I am young, again,
and proud. Strong and daring. In addition, strangely hesitant.
"Joanna, am I moving too fast?" She briefly
lowers her eyes. "No, " she whispers. I gather
her to me. Slipping an arm behind her knees and another about
her shoulders, I lift her and carry her to her bedroom. I
place her on the bed, and stand looking down at her. I turn
down the light, and lower myself to the bed beside her. She
sighs happily, and turns to face me. Her arms pull me close.
I slide the hem of the slip up her thighs to her hips. She lifts
her hips from the bed giving me free access to remove the
restrictive garment. She is clad now only in lace panties,
bra, and long, sheer nylons. I bend and gently nip at the
panty-covered mound of her mons veneris. A gasp escapes
from Joanna's throat. She presses against my hungry
mouth. "Oh, God! No one has ever done that for me. Don't
ever stop. And, do not make me wait, not tonight!"
Her panties vanish as if by magic. Neither is aware of who
has removed, or is removing, what articles of clothing.
But in a matter of seconds, I am naked and she wears only the
stockings.
She stretches wantonly, a blindingly sensual image in
the dim lamplight. She raises her hips to meet my gentle
attack, and I enter her tight warmth fully and deeply. Her
nipples are distended. I minister to each with fingers,
teeth and tongue. I bring her to the first of several climaxes.
She is aware that my pleasure is fed by bringing pleasure
to her. She does not attempt to hold back the sweet noises
of passion. She knows that it excites me, and increases
both my pleasure and my determination to bring her to fulfilment.
Our love making this evening is free, and uninhibited.
A sense of wonder, a sense of newness, pervades. We finish
within seconds of one another. I lie beside her, drawing
out the after play until she drowses off to sleep in my arms.
It is now early in the morning 4:00'ish, and my bladder
is making its presence known. Naked, I pad down the hall
to the bathroom and relieve myself. I sponge off with a warm
cloth and drink several glasses of cold water. Refreshed,
I wander downstairs to peruse the contents of Joanna's
refrigerator. Finding a bottle of orange juice, I remove
it and close the door. The sound of the front door opening
startles me. Before I can react, the kitchen is bathed in
brilliance. I turn. A gasp, and a woman's voice says,
"Shit! Now I know why my daughter signed up for your
class!"
I am embarrassed. Here I am, nude, in someone else's
kitchen, caught by the mother of the young girl I have just
bedded. I quickly cross to the table and sit down -- on the
opposite side from the woman standing in the doorway. My
modesty is somewhat preserved by the intervening table.
"Err... Ah..." I manage intelligently. "You
are Dr. Collins. I am Joanna's mother, Rachel, "
she laughs. "And, obviously, you have just come from
my daughter's bed!" "Ah... Err, you see..."
"Strange. Joanna never mentioned you had a speech
impediment, " and again she surprises me with her
deep, throaty laugh. "So, aren't you going to
offer me some of that orange juice?" She walks to the
cabinet, removes two glasses, and places them in front
of me as she seats herself opposite me.
I pour. What else can I do? "Well, Mrs. Combs..."
"Please, call me 'Rachel, '" again
the laughter. "Under the present circumstances,
I think 'Mrs. Combs' is a bit too formal!"
"Well, I was just helping Joanna with a problem, "
a raised eyebrow causes me to reconsider my unfortunate
choice of words, "and one thing sorta led to another."
Her brown eyes washed over my face. "Yes. Joanna can
be most demanding at times. Go on." "Well, I
made love to your daughter. That's the short of it."
"Hmm. No dissembling. I like that. And, do you love
my daughter?" "No. Call it a strong attraction.
But not 'love.'" "That's good,
because Joanna has to finish her education first."
"I suppose you will report this. I'll offer my
resignation first thing Monday morning."
"Don't be silly, no need, Doctor. May I call you
'Peter'? I think this incident can be resolved
between us to my satisfaction, while Joanna is still asleep.
Don't you?" Rachel's hand during this exchange
is at her throat. As she asks the question, she slowly moves
her hand under her pearls and into the scooped neck of the
black cocktail dress. It moves lazily over her breast.
She continues, "By the way, if you're wondering
why I am here, and not at the party: My husband walked out
on me tonight. We had an argument, and he stormed out of the
place. I got even: I took the car and came home." She
looks me straight in the eyes and continues, "He's
done this before. He won't be back before Monday night."
She rises and crosses to my side of the table. She looks down
at me and remarks, "Maybe we'd better take this
into the living room?" She turns and leaves the kitchen,
turning off the light on her way out.
I rise and follow her to the living room. The fire has died
down to a soft glow that still manages to warm and illuminate.
Rachel is seated on the couch. "Come, Peter. Sit by
me." I do. She places a hand on my naked thigh. I jump
involuntarily, then settle an arm around her shoulders.
My hand rests just under her chin.
I turn her face towards me and lower my lips to hers. Her lips
are warm and soft, and strangely hesitant. She kisses me
lightly. I move my hand from her chin to her cheek. As I kiss
her, she relaxes. Her lips part and I can feel her breath
in my mouth. My tongue tastes her lips and moves across her
teeth. Her lips part further, and my tongue darts past her
final defences and engages hers. Our tongues wrestle.
I suck hers deep into my mouth and taste her saliva. She relaxes
completely and surrenders her mouth to mine. Her hand moves
on my thigh, back and forth. Stroking. Caressing. She becomes
bolder and moves her hand to my penis. She wraps warm fingers
about its length and moves her hand back and forth slowly
and deliberately.
Still holding our kiss, I permit my hand to move down her
cheek and across her jaw to her neck. Shifting slightly,
to allow her more access and permit my hand to continue its
quest, I slip my hand onto the bodice of her velvet dress.
I move it down and cup her breast. She arches her back and
pushes against my hand. Her hand tightens on me. I squeeze
her breast gently, causing her to gasp. My fingers find
her nipple through the velvet. "Aw! You are not wearing
a bra! How positively erotic, " I whisper into her
searching mouth. My tongue follows my words and, before
she can reply, I am once again attacking the warm interior
of her mouth. My hand continues to play with her breast and
nipple.
She is having trouble breathing now. She responds to my
kisses and my searching hands by twisting slightly on the
couch. The movement raises the hem of her skirt above her
knees. My hand wanders down over her soft, rounded stomach
and across one thigh to the edge of her skirt. I rub her leg
and thigh through the soft velvet. Fascinated by the feeling
of warm, soft flesh under velvet, I continue stroking her
through her dress. I caress her thigh, her stomach, and
up to her breast. I close my hand on her breast and, thumb
against her nipple, I squeeze it. She gasps into my mouth.
I toy with her nipple and breast, then move my hand to the
juncture of her thighs.
I press my hand into her vee. I can feel the material of her
dress sliding over her panties. As I cup her vulva, she hunches
forward and presses it into my hand. I move my hand to her
hem. Slowly I slide the hem of her dress up her legs to her
waist. The firelight casts a rosy glow on the panting blonde's
white thighs. Her black lace stockings hug and accent her
thighs. I look down at her long legs. She parts them to permit
my fingers access to the crotch of her black silk panties.
Her breath comes in shallow gasps, now.
"What are you waiting for, Peter?" She leans
forward and catches my lip between her teeth. She bites
me and I feel the taste of blood. She licks the blood from
my lips and thrusts her tongue into my mouth. "Damn!
That hurt!" I pull back and look at her. She licks her
lips and smiles. Her fingers tighten on my penis. She looks
down at it and back up at me. "Well, if you want it, Rachel,
why not?" I put one hand behind her head and, taking
her long blonde hair in my fist, I slowly pull her face into
my crotch. Her eyes widen and she licks her lips.
Her face is at my crotch. Her lips are inches from the end
of my penis. Relentlessly, I bring her face closer. My hand
on her back shifts her body so she might have better access
to my throbbing member. My hand in her hair brings her closer,
closer. The tip of my penis touches her lips. She moves her
head from side to side. Instead of avoiding contact, she
succeeds in rubbing her lips across my penis. She tries
to resist but the combined pressure of my hands is inexorable.
She opens her mouth to speak, and I quickly press her head
forward. My penis forces her lips open and thrusts past
her teeth and into her mouth. She gasps but accepts the length
of my penis.
"Aw, that's better, " I sigh. "Now
move your tongue over it. Suck on it. Don't be afraid,
Rachel." Her reply is muffled by the organ filling
her mouth. Her tongue begins to move, tentatively. Then
more insistently. I lift my hips slightly, pressing deeper
into her warm mouth. Slowly, I remove my hand from her back.
She no longer needs the pressure from my hand to keep her
head in place as she warms to her sweet task. I gaze down at
her. What an erotic sight she makes. Long, sensuous legs
encased in black lace nylons. Black velvet dress, hem across
her thighs exposing black silk panties. The vee of her panties
glistens with the juices of her need. Her pearl necklace
dangles across my naked thighs. Her long, blonde hair covers
my lap and denies me the vision of her red lips on me. One of
her hands grasps the base of my penis, holding it and stroking
it in time to the motion of her lips and tongue. The other
lies on her thigh.
I reach down and take her hand in mine. Slowly and deliberately,
I move it into her crotch. I straighten her fingers and press
them against her pantied mound. I move her fingers in the
motion I wish to see. "Feel yourself, Rachel. Pay
attention to your needs, too." Again, a muffled reply,
but I feel her fingers begin to move. Keeping my hand on hers,
I feel her toying with her labia through the silken garment.
Her fingers run the length of her slit. She pauses and finds
her clitoris. Her fingers flick at it gently. She resumes
rubbing herself through her panties. I remove my hand from
hers and watch her as she surrenders to her emotions. Totally
enveloped in lust, she sucks me into her throat. Her head
bobs in my lap. Her hand slides between panties and smooth
flesh. She inserts fingers into her moist slit and strokes
herself to near climax also. I can hear her moaning as she
continues.
I near my climax. If she continues, I will not be able to hold
back. I place my hands against her shoulders and half push,
half lift, her away from me. My moist organ slides from between
her grasping lips. She falls backward as I push, sprawling
on the couch. Her legs part and she swings one up onto the
couch. Her hand continues rubbing her vulva. Her fingers
thrust into her moist vagina. "Oh, no. Don't
do this. Don't stop now. Take me. Take me now! Please.
Oh, please." Her fingers keep working and her head
whips from side to side as she gasps for release. I lean forward
and grasp her panties. Roughly, I tear them from her. She
gasps, but her hand never leaves her slit. Her fingers are
buried in her flowing crotch. Her moans are continuous
now.
I raise my hips above hers, supporting myself on hands on
either side of her body. She opens her eyes and stares the
length of her body at the broad organ poised above her. Her
free hand pulls on my penis and urges it toward her waiting
vulva. I lower myself to her. My penis rests against the
hand she has buried in herself. I feel it rubbing back and
forth as she meets her needs. With one hand, I remove her
hand from between her thighs and replace the removed fingers
with my erect penis. Her hips rise as I thrust home. She opens
her mouth to scream, but I quickly cover it with my own and
thrust my tongue into its waiting recess. Penis within
vagina, tongue within mouth - each matches the motion and
intensity of the other.
Her lips move beneath mine and her tongue battles mine for
supremacy. I lift my upper body from her and rip the bodice
of her dress away from her breasts. The sudden roughness
and exposure thrusts her nipples into full erection. I
lower my head and take a nipple into my mouth. As I suck and
bite on her distended nipple, my hips rise and fall, thrusting
my penis deep into her tight warmth. Her hips do battle with
mine, rising as I thrust into her, and moving away as I withdraw.
We continue making love with one another this way until
I spend within her. My climax triggers several orgasms
within the willing wanton. The mixture of our juices overflow
her and cascade down our joined thighs. She lies beneath
me, barely breathing. I wait until her breath becomes even.
Her eyes are closed, her lips are parted. I gently kiss each
eyelid and pass my lips lightly over hers. I withdraw from
her. She moans.
I slide my body down hers, kissing my way from throat to breasts
to stomach to abdomen. Finally, my lips reach the warmth
my penis has just vacated. I smell the mixture of our lust.
It intoxicates me and I lower my head to her soft swelling
mound. She gasps, and moans deep in her throat, as I lick
her labia. My tongue finds her clitoris and licks and teases
it to erection. My teeth nip gently at clitoris and labia.
Her hips move against my face, and I thrust my tongue into
her inner recesses. I continue licking and sucking and
thrusting my tongue within her. My hands rub and squeeze
her breasts. As she gives herself once more to her sensations,
I move my fingers up her body to her mouth. I search for her
tongue and find it. As I play with her tongue and her lips,
my tongue continues to penetrate her vagina. Slowly at
first, then faster, I match the attack of tongue on nether
lips with fingers on tongue and lips. As she climaxes one
final time, she sucks my fingers into her mouth. She lightly
bites them, and moves her tongue over them. I match the motion
of her tongue with mine. She climaxes, flowing copiously.
As she moans around my still moving fingers, I drink her
fluids and lick her dry.
She collapses onto the cushions. I sit on the floor beside
her, and rest my head in her lap. I can still smell her musky
odours and the resulting mixture of odours from our lovemaking.
I drift off to sleep. But it seems to me that I can hear another
woman's voice in my dreams. Mmmm how do I handle the
dawn?
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