teacherās assistant!patrick who seems so coy and soft spoken. youāve only heard him mutter to himself when the professor is speaking, only watched him nibble on the end of his pen and scribble into his calendarāa paper due next week, finals after that. heās in charge of grading all of it, and as a graduate student heās thankful for the job.
and heās very professional. until heās not. your paper was truly very good. and he couldāve made you happy, given you the A you deserved and left it at that. but instead, he marked it up with blood red ink, plastered question marks in the margins and scribbled analysis on the side that didnāt even make sense to you.
so you sniffled and knocked on his office door. you really need your Aāyou worked so hard. so you ask how you couldāve done better.
but as soon as patrickās mouth parts, his hand running through his hair and his nose twitching, lifting his glasses ever so slightlyāyou canāt focus.
itās impossible to listen to what heās saying.
ādoes that make sense?ā he pushes his glasses up.
your voice cracks and your cheeks blister with a red hot blush.
he gets up and opts to sit next to you instead. says heāll explain himself better. and this time you do listen, but patrickās big hand rests on your bare thigh. he stares at you. wants to see how you react. this is wrong, he knows.
but you spread your legs, and patrick draws in a breath because he can see your white cotton panties, drenched.
āyour analysis hereāā he points to your second paragraph. āisnāt a sound argument coming directly from your thesis. you would need toāā his hand grips the flesh of your thigh, hard enough for his veins to protrude. his fingers inch closer and closer to your cunt, and you watch the bustle of the university outside of his door.
āohāum. i can alter that, yeah.ā
āyeah?ā his fingers pull at the hem of your panties and you squeak. his forehead has beads of sweat forming near his brow as you stare at him, awaiting.
his fingers break the seal, pushing beneath your panties to rub at your slit. soaked for him, clit puffy and desperate for attention.
you wonder if he does this all the time, but you really more.
he drops his pen; it rolls beneath the table pushed flush against his desk. he crawls beneath it to retrieve it but he stays there, and you watch how his glasses fog as he breathes against your pussy.
he pushes his glasses onto his head.
you nod, gripping the sides of the wooden chair youāre on.
his breath inches closer. ātell me you want me to eat your fucking pussy.ā
his words cut deeper this time; youāve never heard him say more than a few at a time.
āpleaseāeat my pussy, fuck-ā
warmth, then wetness. a fat stripe licked up your soaked slit.
āyeah?ā he spits on your cunt, rubbing it in with his deft fingers. ādirty fucking girl.ā he suckles your clit into his mouth and you squeak. you move to cup his jaw in your hands; it tenses and relaxes as he laps at you, brows raised to stare at you with those pretty green eyes. he lets off. āare you a slut?ā
you push his face into your cunt. āyesāiām whatever you want me to beāā
a slap to your thigh. āso youāre a fucking slut.ā
his tongue prods your hole and you gasp. his nose pokes against your pelvis; heās buried into you and he likes it that way, arms hooked around your hips.