The Professor and the Cheerleader
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Perhaps because she was young, and had less life experience to warn her of possible complications, or how messy life can get with little or no warning, Kendra accepted this sea change in both of their lives with an equanimity that Bob could only be envious of. An argument could be made that it was less disruptive to her psyche than his. The young feel bullet proof, while those who are older bear the scars of previous injury, and know how vulnerable the shell of flesh we inhabit really is.
Or, maybe Bob just couldn't believe his luck.
For whatever reason, when he woke the next morning in bed with a warm female next to him, and opened his eyes to see her serene, sleeping face, surrounded by tousled blond hair, and realized they were still naked, he was afraid to move, lest he actually wake up from this wonderful dream.
Then, he experienced something so simple and basic that it grounded him instantly.
Her soft breath in his face smelled awful.
Knowing that his own probably smelled equally objectionable, he rolled away from her and sat up on the edge of the bed. He blinked several times, and then rubbed at his eyes with his
fingers, feeling her move behind him.
"Morning," she said, her voice slurred. "Do you still love me in the cold light of day?"
"Desperately," he sighed, not turning around. All he wanted at the moment was to relieve his bladder and brush his teeth. It occurred to him that he couldn't offer her a toothbrush. He
wasn't used to guests staying the night.
"Come back to bed," she said, letting sharp fingernails trail over his back.
"I have morning breath," he said.
"Ugh. I probably do too," she said.
He didn't confirm her guess. Things were awkward enough already.
"Shit!" she yipped, bouncing up onto her knees. "What time is it? I have class!"
That got him moving. He hit the bathroom first, thinking he'd get finished and get out so she could take over. He sat on the commode, which was his usual method of dealing with morning wood, and looked up to see her standing there, cool as a cucumber, leaning against the door jamb watching him.
"Don't you dare get scared on me," she said.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, trying to make his pee as silent as possible.
"Because most single men, when faced with commitment, tend to fade fast," she commented.
"You don't have to worry about me," he said, wondering how to stand up without exposing himself to her. Then again, she was completely exposed, gloriously naked and unashamed of it. Finally he gave up and simply stood. She brushed by him and sat. She didn't have a problem with splashing, apparently.
He remembered a little packet the dentist had given him at his last checkup, and bent to look under the sink for it. He spied it and reached in. The plastic zippered bag held a toothbrush, tiny tube of tooth paste, and floss. When he stood up and she saw it, she smiled widely.
"I knew you'd be a good catch," she said, reaching for it.
"I'm still having trouble believing I've been caught," he said, feeling a little more confident.
"Oh, you're caught," she said. "You have no idea how long I've been looking for the right guy."
"I bet I do," he said. "I'm forty-two. I've been looking for a woman twenty years longer than you've been looking for a man."
"Only because all the women around here are blind," she said.
"I'd like to talk about that ... at length," he said.
"You'll have to wait. I have to get to class, and I don't even have time to take a shower. I'll have to wear the same thing I seduced you in last night. I guess I can go home after class
and clean up and change clothes."
He stood there, unable to think of anything to say. Finally, when his stomach grumbled, he asked, "Do you want something to eat before you go?"
"Make me a peanut butter sandwich," she said. "I'll eat it on the run."
Then she was past him, searching for the clothes she'd tossed all over the place the night before. He put on shorts from habit and padded to the kitchen. He was mating the two halves of the sandwich, thinking about how perfectly they fit together, and how disparate he and his lover - did he dare call her that?! - were, when she reached around him and snatched it out of his fingers. She turned him bodily and kissed him soundly. He smelled the peppermint of the toothpaste she had used, and held his breath. He'd forgotten completely to brush his own teeth.
"When will I see you again?" he gasped, as she turned to leave.
She looked over her shoulder. A more come hither look he had never seen in his life.
"Tonight, of course, silly. I'm still coming to work."
"Oh! Okay," he said, but he said it to a door that was closing.
His day was strange, to say the least. Everything looked so normal and the things that happened were so routine that it was even harder to maintain the illusion that a
fantastically hot, amazingly sexy, incredibly young woman had seduced him the evening before. She'd actually said she seduced him, so that part wasn't his imagination.
He felt so unsure of things that after his last class, he rode his bike over to the gym. Standing back from the open doors to the basketball court, where he hoped he couldn't be seen, he
peered through the doors at the cheerleaders, cavorting, jumping, doing the splits and so on. By some undetectable signal, they all gathered and lined up. A female voice said something he couldn't understand, and then stridently called out, "O-Kay!" Then they did a routine that, to Bob's eyes, looked flawless. But the head cheerleader, a girl he knew was named Tiffany, said, "No, no, no. That was sloppy. Do it again!"
His eyes lingered on Kendra, who lined up with the rest. As the okay command was given once more, she leapt into action, stepping, stomping, whirling, and waving her arms. Again, to Bob, she looked like she was doing exactly what the others were doing, perfectly. Movement in his peripheral vision caused him to look away, and he saw a group of young men coming his way. He didn't want to be observed gawking at the cheerleaders, so he turned and moved away from them.
He got on his bike, and because he couldn't think of anywhere else to go, returned to his office, where he sat, fidgeting, looking at the clock constantly, unable to do any work.
Right on time, she burst through the door of his office and dropped her gym bag. She was still wearing what he'd seen her practicing in.
"I can shower at your place later ... right?" she asked, arching one eyebrow.
"Sure," he said, as a relief washed through him so palpable that he felt weak.
"I don't want to take anything for granted," she said. "I don't want to take you for granted."
"If you taking me for granted is the worst thing that happens to me this decade, then I'm in pretty good shape," he quipped.
"Awww, you're sweet." She crossed to her desk and sat down. She gave him a level gaze. "But no sex until we get our work done."
"Like I could possibly get any work done while thinking about what might happen later," he said.
"What will happen later, but only if we get some work done," she argued. "You must exert some control, Bob. I'm depending on you to do that. If you don't, all we'll do is fuck like bunnies, because I won't be able to resist you. I know you have a pair, a really nice pair, in fact, but you need to be able to use them for more than just knocking me up. Capisce?"
"I didn't know you were Italian," he said.
"I'm not. I just like that word and almost never get to say it. Are we good?"
"We're good. You couldn't get me to make a move on you now for love nor money."
She stood up and pulled her sweat-stained top up to expose her breasts.
"Wanna suck my nipples?" she asked, sweetly.
"That's not fair, and you know it."
"You're the one who threw out the challenge."
"Put those away!" he barked. "Somebody could walk in here any second."
"Good boy," she cooed, pulling her shirt back down. "Two hours of work. Then we can play."
"Yes, my queen," said Bob, gravely.
"I like that," she said, and then turned to her work.
There was something about knowing it wasn't all just a flashback because of a former bad acid trip that calmed him. It was still surreal but he was finally, tentatively, beginning to
trust that he wasn't being punked, and that for whatever incredible, unbelievable reasons this girl was attracted to him, that attraction was real. At least for the
present. That she would someday tire of him and move on, most likely to a younger, fitter, more virile man, he assumed was inevitable. But he would ride this rollercoaster as long as he could stay on it.
And so he was actually able to concentrate on sorting Doctor Eldridge's legacy. He noticed that she needed nowhere near the amount of "assistance" she had previously required, and pondered how she had been telling the truth about seducing him. She'd used those naked breasts he'd kept sneaking peeks at to ensnare him, and he'd been none the wiser until he was firmly caught in her web. He had no trouble envisioning her as a spider who could weave such a web. He was just still amazed that she'd woven it to catch him!
She finally stood up and said, "Ugh. I stink."
He returned with, "I doubt that very much."
She laughed. "I forgot sweaty women turn you on."
"Not sweaty women," he corrected. "Just sweaty you."
"How romantic. Somehow, I thought a man with a doctorate in Elizabethan poetry would be all flowery when he complimented me, but what do I get?" She lowered her voice, trying to
sound male. "Hey, sweet tits, get sweaty for me and let's do the bump ugly." She grinned.
He walked over to her and took her hands.
"I don't want to be crass, but I'm aflame for you right now. I've been hard, off and on, all day long, because I've thought about you all day long. This afternoon, while you were at practice, I couldn't stay away. I had to see you ... confirm that you're real. I went to the gym and peeked through the doors at you."
The smile slowly left her face, and her eyes became serious as he went on.
"When I said this morning that I'm desperately in love with you, it was true. I truly am desperate. You have opened a doorway that I never anticipated I'd even see, much less pass
through. I cannot in good conscience claim that I believe your interest in me will stand the test of time, but I am willing to endure the crushing blow that your eventual abandonment will be to me, should it come. It will be worth the pain of your loss, to experience even one more taste of your lips. It would be worth even more for another night with you. You have already made my life so much more complete than I could ever have dreamed of, that I can only beg to be able to thank you for the gift of your attention. I am your slave. You are, in fact, my queen, and I would move mountains for you, should it please you. It matters not if you are dripping perspiration, or freshly bathed. Being chained to Ben Hur's chariot couldn't keep me away from you."
To him, it was a dismally poor attempt to express his feelings, but he saw her eyes go soft, and her lower lip quiver. He felt a little foolish. His next words weren't planned, and later he'd wonder why he ever said such a stupid thing.
"Now, let's go get sweaty and do the bump ugly," he said.
Her reaction was all he could have hoped for. She crushed her body to his, hugging him tightly.
"You just got yourself laid, professor. Have you ever fucked a girl on your desk?" she whispered in his ear.
His mind clearly said, "Of course not!" but his voice only uttered only a strained, "Uuuhh."
Before he could stop her, she had stepped back and whipped her shirt up and over her head. The cloth caught in her pony tail, but she tugged it free. His panic was assuaged when, bare-breasted, she moved to the door and flipped the dead bolt into the locked position. Showing she was thinking clearly, she also flicked the light switch to the off position before returning to him. Light still spilled through the transom above the door, and his eyes adjusted rapidly.
Again, his world was surreal, as he realized she fully intended to get fucked right there on his desk. She was sweeping papers into one pile and he almost laughed as he thought about the
fact that she had just undone what he'd spent the last hour doing. But he didn't care. This was crazy, but he reached for his belt anyway.
By the time he stood up from pulling his pants over his sock-covered feet, she was perched on his desk, leaning back on straight arms, her heels beside her butt and her knees sagging open.
There it was ... the pussy he had already fucked ... the pussy belonging to the woman he'd awakened in bed with that morning. That pussy was no longer weeping his semen. Rather, the
lips were flowered open, as if they wanted another load of his hot cum. Fleetingly, he thought about the fact that if she was ovulating the day before, it was likely she was still ovulating. That lasted several days ... didn't it?
He was rock hard. She sat, saying nothing, just staring at him, her thighs spread in welcome. Then she broke the silence.
"Fuck me, professor. Give me your long, hard, PhD prick right here on your desk."
"I don't have a condom," he said, and then almost winced for saying it.
"I don't give a flying fuck about condoms. I want your cock in me. I want an orgasm from my lover's prick and I want it now!"
Again, what he said wasn't planned, nor did he feel it was wise to say after he said it.
"Don't be a shrew. I'm coming."
"You better not cum until you're right in here, buster," she said, sliding one fingertip between slippery labia.
He stopped talking and waded in as she replaced her hand behind her, leaving it to him to aim and find her portal. He did so and only briefly noticed his slight paunch as he slid home in her.
"Suck my nipples," she ordered, arching her chest.
He did, chewing gently and lovingly on a turgid nipple while he pressed inward, feeling the tip of his cock plow past her cervix to stretch the end of her tunnel.
"Yes," she groaned. "If you do it right, I can cum just from that."
With that in mind, he went to work on her nipples like he'd worked on sucking her clit, previously. And she did cum, sliding from one yipping orgasm right into another one. He worried that
she'd be heard in the hallway, but he couldn't stop, either giving her pleasure via her nipples, or feeling that pleasure being translated into her pussy rippling around his cock as she came.
He had to guess when to stop, lest he cause her pain by sucking too long. As an experiment, remembering his crazy urge from that time in the past, he licked between her breasts, tasting the salt of her perspiration, and relished the tang of her flavor. Her hands moved his head back to the tip of one breast, so he sucked some more. Apparently her nipples could take more than he gave them credit for.
It was while she was on a succeeding orgasm, one beyond the third one, after which he stopped counting, that he slowly, almost carefully, and very deliberately pushed in deep.
"I want to cum now," he whispered. "Can I cum inside your pussy?"
"Oh fuck yes," she gasped, the first words she'd said since she notified him that her nipples were another test.
He pulled back and slammed in one last time, and arched his back as his balls jumped in their sack. The soothing jets of semen raced through his penis and leapt into her body. With his hands on her hips, he held himself in her.
In those few seconds of ecstasy, he finally understood what it meant for a man to become one with a woman.
Again her bag was strapped to the carrier on his bike, and she trotted beside him as he rode. On this night she didn't run flat out, like she had the previous night. But even though
they went side by side, she didn't chat with him, or he with her. It was a fast paced, companionable, something-faster-than-a-walk, that got them to his house in less
than fifteen minutes. Again, he led her into the back yard, where she slowed to a walk and did some stretches before following him into the kitchen.
"Will your neighbors cast aspersions on you if a coed starts keeping company with you?" she asked.
"Maude would probably be equally horrified and happy for me," he said. "The Greens, on the other side, wouldn't notice. Or at least I don't think they would. We've never actually spoken."
"You're kidding. You have neighbors you haven't spoken to?"
"They're busy, I'm busy ..."
"You're not busy. Well you didn't used to be busy. I plan to change that, of course. But I don't want to get you in trouble."
"Technically, you're twenty-one and I'm not one of your teachers," he said.
"Yes, but you are my employer," she said, obviously suggesting someone might find that objectionable.
"Bosses have affairs with their employees all the time," he said.
"Yes, but it's against the law to do that, sometimes."
"I thought you said you weren't going to file a sexual harassment complaint," he said.
"I'm not, but what if someone else does? I told you, I don't want this to get derailed by some goody two-shoes sticking his or her nose into our private business."
"You don't mind if I get you pregnant, but you object to someone else minding?"
"I'd like to be able to come see you without having to sneak around while I do it," she said.
"Trust me, once that sweet, flat belly of yours blows up with that watermelon you were talking about, there won't be any sneaking around."
"Bob!" she warned.
"Technically, it's an ethical violation for us to have this relationship," he said. "From the administration's viewpoint, I mean. But the fact is that this has
happened before, and it wasn't the end of the world." He blinked. "Assuming your parents don't get upset."
"My parents can't get upset," she said, her voice flat.
"I'm sorry," he said, immediately. "That was thoughtless of me. When did you lose them?"
"They're not dead," she said. "They just can't complain about who I choose to have sex with."
"Of course they can," he said. "They're your parents. And you being twenty-one doesn't change that."
"That's not what I meant," she said. "Just trust me that my parents will not be an issue. So ... you
think we're okay?"
"Okay to go out on the town, and for me to put you on my arm and show you off? Okay for you to come up and kiss at ball games, still dressed in your cheerleader uniform?"
"I wasn't thinking in terms quite that much in the face of the public," she said.
"Neither am I," said Bob. "And if we keep things reasonably private, we should be fine. But eventually, this will get out, and when it does, you may have to make some decisions."
"Such as how permanent you want
this relationship to be," he said.
"Are you asking me to marry you?" Her voice sounded faint.
"Actually, when the time comes for that, I expect you to ask me," he said, feeling confident that it was the right thing to say. "That seems to be your style."
"Touché," she admitted.
"You think talking about marriage is moving too fast?"
"Uh ... yeah," she said, as if it were obvious.
"Not that I'm pushing things, but I believe you already said you would marry me," he said, feeling bolder than he had in decades.
"The way I remember it, I said I'd marry you if that was what it took to keep from being kicked out," she countered.
"So, to sum up, while the thought of marrying me makes you nervous ... letting me get you pregnant doesn't?"
"It's complicated," she said.
"You think it isn't complicated for me too?"
"Let me get used to the idea that I found you, and didn't scare you off," she moaned. "I wasn't sure it was going to work out between us. You're very stuffy when a
girl first meets you."
"I was terrified you'd detect what I was thinking about you," he confessed.
"Silly man," she said. "When you leered at me like that, I knew I had a chance."
"You had a chance? Suggesting it was possible you did not have a chance? That's as ridiculous a supposition as anything I ever heard. I believe I already pointed out
you could have any man you wanted."
"Not if the man were so foolish as to deny me what I wanted based on misguided social mores," she said. "And I wasn't sure you weren't going to do that."
"I was helpless," he said.
"Yes, after I got naked in front of you, and then begged you to fuck me."
"Are we having our first argument?" he asked, warily.
"No. Who's arguing?" she said.
"I thought we were."
"You really don't have much experience with women, do you?" she suggested.
"You thought I lied about that?"
"You don't make love like a man with very little experience," she said.
"Ahhh, that," he said.
She perked up.
"When I was younger, younger even than you, there were some girls who wanted to try things. I had even less self-esteem back then than I do now, and I was eager to please. They ... uh ...
well ... sort of ganged up on me and used and abused me. Except I didn't feel abused. They were very demanding, and they ganged up on me frequently."
"You mean you did them all at the same time?" She licked her lips.
"Sort of," he admitted. "When one was finished, the next wanted to be pleased. They kind of liked each other too, though, so when I was busy with one, the other two were still pretty
"Oh my gosh! Staid, ordinary Doctor McFeeley had orgies when he was a teenager!"
"It sounds exotic, but they eventually moved on to other men, or at least other things, and my sex life ended," he said.
"An affliction which I am proud to have cured," she preened.
"Well, forgive me if I get a little skeptical once in a while. Twenty years of wandering in a sexual desert isn't going to be overcome by a few sips of water."
"Is that all I am?" she asked, putting mock tragedy in her voice. "I offer you my heart, and you call me a sip of water?"
"I have drunk deep from the well of my deliverance," he said, "but I have not slaked my thirst."
"You do have a silver tongue," she said. "In more ways than one. Want to take a shower with me and lick my pussy all clean?"
"Is this what life is going to be like for me from now on?" he said, still emoting, theatrically. "Am I to be subjected to you making one outrageous suggestion after
She calmly stripped in front of him, slowly and deliberately. When she was naked, she said, "You can either lick my pussy in the shower, or fuck it there, but we're both going to get wet together in the very near future. You may be my king, but I am your queen. This I command."
Ten minutes later, after licking her pussy, he also pinned her against the wall of his shower and fucked it too.
While he was doing that, she moaned in his ear.
"You have no idea how often we're going to be doing this."
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