~~~

she has her nose buried deep between your thighs, mouth moving lazily as she makes out with your cunt. acting like she’s got all day to please you — and she does. she’s long passed pleasuring you, now taking it upon herself to savour your very essence, the gentle whines that each measured flick of her tongue brings. a lean forearm is pressed against your lower stomach, her thumb tracing soft circles across your abdomen; each time you buck your hips, you can see how her bicep flexes when she pushes you back down onto the couch.

you reach down to run a hand through her curls, grip tightening when she sucks on your clit, then dips down to clean you up with her tongue. you tug at her hair, pulling her up towards you, and she rises to meet you only because she needs to kiss you, lips still glistening with the taste of you. though you don’t realise you’ve been crying until she wipes a thumb over your cheek, and a whimpering moan rumbles in your throat. a needy sound, a wrecked sound. ruined at her touch.

your whole body tightens like a vice when she dips her free hand down, ramming two thick fingers into your exhausted hole. a pathetic sound gurgles in your throat, a breathy sigh not far short of a strangled moan, and you grab a hold of her forearm for a mere semblance of support, quickly falling apart underneath her.

She pushed off the desk and took one slow step closer, that little smirk still playing on her mouth.

“But since you mentioned it… now I’m very curious about these photos.”

My brain short-circuited. Professor Hammock started walking slowly toward my desk, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor, hips swaying just enough to make my mouth go dry. That smirk on her lips was growing, dark and hungry, like she’d just discovered the most delicious secret.

I shot up from my chair so fast it scraped loudly against the floor.

“N-no, wait— I mean, it’s not like that!” I panicked, words tumbling out stupid and fast. “They’re just… um… screenshots! For… studying! Yeah, studying your… face… for physics motivation or something— I swear I delete them every night— okay maybe not every night but— fuck, that sounds worse—”

I kept backing away as she kept coming closer, step by step, until my ass bumped into the desk behind me. There was nowhere left to go. Professor Hammock didn’t stop until she was right in front of me, so close I could feel the warmth of her body and smell that clean, expensive perfume mixed with something sweeter that was just her.

She placed one hand on the desk beside my hip, caging me in without even touching me yet. Her other hand came up slowly, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Her touch was gentle, but her eyes were burning.

“Studying my face, huh?” she murmured, voice low and teasing, that smirk turning into a soft, predatory smile. “Or were you studying something else while looking at my photos late at night?”

I swallowed hard, cheeks on fire. “I… I didn’t— it’s not— please don’t tell anyone, Miss— I’ll delete them right now, I’ll—”

“Shhh.” Professor Hammock leaned in closer, her lips barely an inch from my ear. Her breath was warm against my skin as she whispered, “I’m not mad, baby. Actually… I’m flattered.”

Her fingers trailed lightly down the side of my neck, making me shiver. She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze dropping to my lips for a second before coming back up.

“Show me.”

My heart nearly stopped. “W-what?”

“Show me the photos you have of me on your phone,” she said, voice dropping even lower, smooth like velvet and dripping with authority. “Right now. Unless you’d rather I fail you for real… or maybe you’d prefer I reward good girls who are honest with their professor.”

She was so close now that her breasts brushed lightly against mine every time she breathed. One of her hands slid down to rest on my waist, fingers pressing just firm enough to keep me pinned against the desk. Her thumb stroked slow circles over my shirt, sending heat straight between my legs.

“Come on, baby,” she purred, eyes dark with want. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

“Fuck…” I whispered under my breath, the word slipping out before I could stop it. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my phone as I grabbed it from my pocket. I unlocked it, thumb fumbling across the screen while Professor Hammock watched me with that intense, amused stare. The second I opened my camera roll, the photos were right there at the top — no hiding them.

Dozens of them.

Professor Hammock surfing at the beach, water glistening on her toned body in that tight wetsuit. Her rock climbing, muscles flexing as she reached for the next hold, sports bra hugging her chest. And the gym photos… fuck. Professor Hammock in tight leggings and a tank, sweat making the fabric cling to every curve, abs visible, thighs looking strong enough to crush me.

The photos were right there, staring back at us. I wanted to die, disappear and get swallowed by the ground.

Professor Hammock leaned in even closer, her cheek almost brushing mine as she looked down at the screen. A low, smug hum escaped her throat. That smirk on her face turned fully smug now — satisfied, arrogant, and so fucking hot it made my knees weak.

“Oh, baby…” she murmured, voice dripping with teasing delight. Her hand slid from my waist to cover mine on the phone, steadying my trembling fingers. “Saving all these pretty pictures of your professor. Surfing, climbing, working out… You’ve been such a little pervert, haven’t you?”

I tried to close the app, but she gently pushed my hand away, scrolling slowly through the photos herself with her thumb.

“Mmm, this one’s my favorite,” she said, voice low and teasing as she stopped on a gym selfie of her flexing. “You like staring at my body during class, baby? Imagining what it would feel like under your hands? Or maybe you touch yourself to these at night… thinking about your strict physics professor while you’re all wet and desperate?”

Her free hand moved back to my hip, fingers digging in possessively as she pressed her body flush against mine, trapping me completely against the desk. I could feel the heat of her through our clothes — her breasts against mine, her thigh sliding between my legs just enough to make me whimper.

“Tell me,” she whispered hotly against my ear, still scrolling through more photos with that smug little smile. “Which one do you look at the most when you’re fucking yourself thinking about me?…”

She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her expression pure smug satisfaction mixed with raw hunger.

“Go on. Tell me.”

“I— I actually am late for my next class,” I blurted out desperately, trying to slip sideways and escape the heat of her body. “Yeah and the professor’s really strict so I should—”

Professor Hammock’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist firmly, stopping me in place. She let out a low, amused chuckle, clearly not buying a single word of my bullshit.

“I’m not stupid, baby,” she whispered hotly against my ear, her voice dripping with dark amusement as she chuckled again. The sound sent shivers straight down my spine.

I froze. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely think. Fuck it.

Hands still shaking, I scrolled through the camera roll again and stopped on one of my favorites — the photo of her rock climbing. She was in a tight tank top, back muscles beautifully defined, sweat glistening on her skin… and that sexy back tattoo peaking under her tank top.

“I… I like this one…” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper as I tilted the phone toward her.

Professor Hammock looked at the screen and let out a soft, pleased chuckle. “Mmm, you have great taste, baby.” Her eyes flicked back to mine, dark and teasing. “You know… if you love them so much, why not just ask to see them in person?”

My brain completely short-circuited. A full gay panic attack hit me like a truck — face burning, chest tight, thighs pressing together involuntarily as filthy images flooded my mind. I couldn’t even form words, just let out a pathetic little squeak.

Before I could recover, Professor Hammock grabbed both of my wrists gently but firmly. She lifted my hands and placed them on her waist, right over the soft fabric of her blouse. Then she slowly guided them up and down, making me feel the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the warmth of her body underneath.

“Doesn’t that feel nice?” she murmured, voice low and sultry, her breath brushing my lips.

A soft whimper escaped me before I could stop it. I nodded quickly, eyes wide, fingers trembling as they stroked along her sides under her guidance. She felt so good — warm, soft, and so fucking real.

Professor Hammock smiled smugly at my reaction, pressing closer until her thigh slotted between mine again, applying just enough pressure to make me ache.

“Good girl,” she praised softly. “See? No need to hide behind photos anymore. You can touch the real thing now… if you’re brave enough to admit how badly you want it.”

My fingers kept sliding up and down her waist, completely hypnotized by the warmth of her body, the way her curves felt under my palms, the soft fabric of her blouse doing nothing to hide how perfect she was. I couldn’t look away from where my hands were touching her. My brain was melting.

“I want it so fucking bad…” I whispered, voice shaky and raw. “I crave it every fucking night.”

The words spilled out before I could filter them, desperate and honest. My thumbs pressed a little harder into her sides, stroking slowly like I was afraid she’d disappear if I stopped.

Professor Hammock’s breath hitched for a second, then she let out a low, satisfied hum. That smug, hungry smile deepened as she looked down at me, eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Every night, hm?” she murmured, voice dropping into something filthy and sweet. “Tell me more, baby. What do you do when you’re craving me like this? Do you scroll through my photos with one hand… while the other slips between your legs? Do you moan my name when you cum?”

She pressed her body closer, guiding my hands a little higher so my fingertips brushed just under the curve of her breasts. Her thigh rubbed slowly between mine, giving me the slightest friction right where I was already throbbing and wet.

“Don’t get shy now,” she teased, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I just need you to tell me exactly how you touch yourself thinking about me.” 

Her fingers slid into my hair, tilting my head back gently so I had to look up at her. She was so close now that our lips were almost touching, her voice a velvet whisper.

“Go on, baby. Keep those pretty hands on me and tell your professor how you fuck yourself every night dreaming of this.”

My hand were still shaking, still completely hypnotized by the feeling of her waist under my palms. My voice came out hoarse and broken, the words pouring out in a desperate rush.

“Every night… after I get home, I lock my door and open my phone. I go straight to your photos… the ones where you’re climbing, sweat dripping down your back, that tattoo showing… or the gym ones where I can see your tattoo under your tank. I pull my shorts down and spread my legs on the bed. I start slow, rubbing my clit in circles while I stare at your body… imagining it’s your hands instead of mine. Then I get so fucking wet I slide two fingers inside myself, fucking myself hard while I zoom in on your tits or your ass. I moan your name, Professor… Hammock… whispering it like a slut while I hump my hand. Sometimes I even put the phone on speaker if there’s a video of you talking and I cum while listening to your voice, pretending you’re telling me what a dirty girl I am for you.”

Professor Hammock’s eyes darkened with pure lust as she listened. When I finished, she let out a low, filthy groan and cupped my jaw, thumb brushing my bottom lip.

“Fuck, baby… such a needy little whore for your professor ” she praised, voice thick. “Now I want you to demonstrate exactly how you like doing it. Right here. Right now.”

Without hesitation, I nodded, too far gone to care.

My hands stayed on her body as I leaned back against the desk for support. One hand kept roaming over her — caressing the dip of her waist, sliding up to squeeze her breasts through her blouse, feeling how full and soft they were. My other hand shoved down the front of my skirt and into my panties without wasting a second.

I was already soaked.

I started rubbing my swollen clit in tight, desperate circles, exactly like I did at home, but this time my eyes were locked on the real thing in front of me. My free hand squeezed her tit harder, thumb brushing over her nipple until it hardened under my touch.

Professor Hammock watched me with hungry eyes, her voice low and commanding as she talked me through it.

“That’s it, baby… just like that. Rub that pretty clit for me.” 

“You like squeezing my tits while you touch yourself? Go ahead, squeeze harder — feel how they fit in your hand. You’ve been dreaming about them, haven’t you?”

I whimpered loudly, fingers moving faster between my thighs, dipping down to push two fingers inside my dripping pussy while my palm ground against my clit. My other hand kneaded her breast greedily, then slid around to grab a handful of her ass, pulling her even closer.

“Mmm, good girl,” she purred, voice dripping with approval. “Fuck yourself deeper. Imagine those are my fingers stretching you open instead.”

“Look at me while you do it, baby. Let me see how desperate you get when you have the real thing right in front of you. You’re making such a mess already… I can hear how wet you are.”

My hips started rocking into my hand, thrusting against my own fingers while I stared up at her, moaning openly now. I squeezed her ass harder, then moved back up to pinch her nipple through her shirt, completely lost in the feeling of her body under my hands.

Professor Hammock leaned in, lips brushing my ear as she continued guiding me with that filthy, sweet voice.

“Faster, baby. Show me exactly how you cum thinking about your professor. Don’t hold back… I want to watch my dirty little student fall apart for me.”

My hips rocked harder into my hand, two fingers plunging in and out of my soaked cunt while my palm rubbed my swollen clit. I was panting, eyes glued to her body as my other hand greedily squeezed and kneaded her tits through her blouse.

Professor Hammock smirked at how wrecked I already looked. Without a word, she started unbuttoning her blouse slowly, one button at a time, revealing smooth skin and a lacy white bra underneath. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then reached back and unclasped her bra, letting her full, perfect breasts spill free right in front of my face.

“Eyes up here, baby,” she ordered softly, voice thick with lust. “Go on. Squeeze them bare. These are the tits you’ve been creaming your panties over every night. Touch them like the desperate little pervert you are.”

I didn’t hesitate. My free hand shot up and grabbed one of her bare breasts, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh hard while my thumb flicked over her stiff nipple. They felt even better than I’d imagined — warm, full, and so fucking perfect. I pinched and rolled her nipple between my fingers, moaning loudly as I kept fucking myself faster.

“That’s it… play with professor’s tits while you finger that greedy little pussy,” 

Christina groaned, her voice getting filthier. “You like how they feel? Bet you’ve cum thinking about sucking on them, haven’t you? My dirty little student touching herself to her professor’s body like a whore…. Rub your clit faster for me. I want to hear how sloppy you are.”

I was whimpering nonstop now, fingers thrusting deep and messy, squelching sounds filling the quiet classroom as I stared at her naked tits. My hand switched to her other breast, squeezing and groping greedily while my hips bucked.

“Fuck— Miss— I’m so close…” I gasped, voice breaking.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me,” she growled, leaning closer so her bare breasts brushed against my face. “Cum while you’re squeezing your professor’s tits like the obsessed little cunt you are. Show me how hard you fall apart for me every night. Be a good girl and soak your hand for  me.”

The words pushed me over the edge.

My whole body tensed as my orgasm hit hard. I let out a loud, broken whimper that quickly turned into a desperate cry, thighs shaking violently while my pussy clenched around my fingers. I was a whimpering, sobbing mess, hips jerking as I rode it out, still squeezing her bare tit hard in my palm.

Professor Hammock moved instantly. She grabbed the back of my head and crashed her lips against mine, swallowing every loud moan and whimper before they could echo through the empty classroom. The kiss was deep, hungry, and filthy — her tongue sliding into my mouth as she muffled my cries while I kept trembling through the aftershocks.

She didn’t pull away until my whimpers finally quieted into soft, shaky breaths against her lips. When she finally broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected us for a second. She looked down at me with dark, satisfied eyes, her bare breasts still heaving.

“Shhh, baby… good girl,” she whispered hotly, thumb brushing over my swollen lips. “Such a noisy little slut when you cum… I fucking need you home.”