Standing in the shower, a small waving of anxiety washed over me. My eyes shot spread out as I finally realized what it was I was showering for in the first place. This meeting, rendezvous, get-together, date, whatever you want to call in it, was only a one-half hour away. I slowly washed my breasts and stomach with my luffa, trying to convince myself that the longer it took for me to get cook, the more clock time would slow down, and the to a greater extent time I had until he arrived on my doorstep.

Usually, men don't make me nervous. As a 26-year-old, I felt I knew what to carry from them, and I had a ego esteem that tended to air on the face of lordliness when it came to appointment that always kept me in ascendence. I knew that I had a power over men, and I knew I could make them require me considerably more than I could ever need them without hardly any effort. I knew I could command them. But this man was the exception the normal. In my own way, I had worked at this. It felt like a fantasy of mine was finally coming true, and my emotions could hardly spend a penny sense of it. He had been something in my life-time I wasn't sure I would ever be able-bodied to birth, and it made me desire him all the more. Now that it looked as if I had finally sunk my dentition into him, I was sealed I did not need to mess it up.

I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off and looked at the outfit that was folded up on my gutter buttocks : blue and Stanford White pinstripe cotton plant frill-top trouser that stopped just before the ankle and a white spaghetti strap top that I would wear without a bra, as to make my mamilla piercing easily visible. Even if I was oddly nervous to see him, at least I knew I would look amazing.

walking toward my bedchamber, the juxtaposition of its iciness and the weaken heat of the bathroom sent a chill down my acantha. Examining the quad, I determined that it looked satisfactory enough to invite somebody into for the night. My bed was uncharacteristically made, floor freshly vacuumed, and my desk was cleared of the mound of useless papers, tampons, books, and one-half empty glasses of water that it typically hosted. I tossed my towel in my trammel near my desk and closed the door to get a undecomposed look at myself in the mirror. The visual modality of my own thoughtfulness sent another chill down my spine, but it wasn't one of anxiousness or mettle, thankfully. It was of confidence. I couldn't remember ever having liked the way I looked so lots before. My pelt was truly refulgent from head to toe. The box tress on my head cascaded down and framed my expression perfectly, but didn't take away from my pet facial feature : my luxuriously cheekbones. Turning my head to the left wing, I peered at the strap on harness I had purchased specifically for the client I had coming over. I looked back at myself in the mirror and watched as a devious smirk spread across my face.There couldn't have been a safe night to sleep with my former college professor.

Just as I'd dressed, turned on some climate medicine, and finished pouring one of the two chicken feed of pinot noir there was a knocking on my door. He'd arrived. I took my fourth dimension going over to let him in, as I wanted to wee-wee sure I left every trace of nerves behind me. I'd waited so long for the opportunity to do this On my way to greet him, I took an oversized sip of the wine I had in hand a deep breath, and slowly opened the door.

He had been my professor in my junior year British Literature course. I was a philology John Major, and I wanted to take as many form related to Good Book and voice communication as I could, even if it meant choosing them as elective. When the fourth dimension came to register, I was sure I wanted to study the grade with the Same woman who had taught my Semantics and Phonetics social class the year prior, Professor Wesley. She was a remarkable cleaning woman whose influence over me was both professional and motherly, and I told her many times that if I ever finished the leger I'd been working on, I wanted her to write its preface. My obedience for her was unmatched, and I wanted to absorb every bit of information from her as I could. Thus, I was nearly in a cult when I learned I would be taking the form not with her but with a prof Francis Edgar Stanley, some guy who'd transferred from a college upstate. I tried with all my might to change my grade docket and study docket to pass water it possible for me to be taught by my one and only true role model, but to no avail. My whole summer leading up to that declivity semester was spent in frustration, wondering why my perfect tense program had crumbled before me, that is, until I finally met my new instructor.

-- -- -

He stood in nominal head of me, smiling that sexy smiling of his, and I felt a massive rush of Adrenalin. I wanted him right then, I could feel my body responding to his mere mien, but I kept my cool. I needed him to need me Thomas More. professor Stanley, or Saint Matthew, as I took to calling him, was gorgeous. He nearly towered over me, standing at a full 6'1"while I was 5'4 ”. He was muscular, had a full straits of salt and pelt hair and wore thick rimmed deoxyephedrine. Honestly, he could've been a GQ mannikin if he was 20 years younger.

"Good evening, gorgeous ”, he said in a low voice, still wearing that smiling. His green optic twinkled.

"Hey, Mr ”, I replied, trying not to intend too hard about how hot I'd become in the conclusion ten secondment. Hesitantly, he leaned in for a hug, his pass on bridge player resting firmly but gently on my bare peel. The odor on Matthew's black clitoris up was intoxicating, and his strong, warm dresser pushed up against my nerve sent my head reeling. He was a stereotypically male man, and it made me want to take him for my own even more. The embrace eventually came to an end, and I moved to the English to let him in.

"Hey, so I hope you don't mind, but I brought a trivial bite for us. I've been obsessed with this Annamese position a pair miles away from the university, so I thought I'd take some spring rolls. I also picked up some sake. You okay with that ?"

I smiled, nodded. and decided to make a motion. I wasn't sure if he would, plus, I was unbelievably horny. I walked over to him and kissed him deeply. Pulling away, I looked into his eyes, and in an trice, his back talk were on mine again. I felt his big mitt on my articulatio coxae. We were doing this now.

Panting and pushing our bodies into one another, we stumbled into my bedroom and slammed the threshold shut. St. Matthew the Apostle grabbed my face like he owned me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. My eubstance was riddled with ecstasy and I noticed I was trembling as his hands slid down my brass, back, and hips, picking me up by the back of my thighs, giving my ass a firm squeezing and smacking on the way down. I whimpered as he began sucking on my breast and neck, and I chuckled to myself, thinking about what I would end up saying to nullify explaining to friends and coworkers that my former college professor had given me a hickey.

"God, every bit of you tastes so fucking expert ”, Gospel According to Matthew sighed. His facial expression looked completely different than it did when he first walked into my apartment hallway fifteen transactions ago. He looked completely different now, his looking glass removed, little astragal of lather on his brow and pectus, the dilation of his pupils. He looked completely sensual, like just being in the Saame way with me was all it really took to get him off. I realized that, in this moment, he felt like he needed me. This revelation sent adrenaline charging through every single inch of my body. I was full of top executive, long suit and control.

"Put me down,"I whispered.

"What ?"Matthew's expression dropped, his features reading confused.

"Put me down, now."This clip, my voice mimicked the great power I felt inside. His script reluctantly loosened its handle on my thighs, and after a moment my toes met the carpeting. The ambiance suddenly shifted. Matthew's face was now confused, aflutter and pall. It turned me on. I let the secrecy physical body for a few more seconds ; I quite liked the uncomfortable look on St. Matthew the Apostle's pretty little brass. When I was ready, I turned him around, pushing his look against the door with my script and forced myself up against his back.

"Okay, you had it your way. You had your fun, Matthew Stanley."Quickly, I reached into his Jockey shorts and tightly grabbed his cock, making him heave. His erecting began to wither when I took heraldic bearing, but after a couple seconds, His blooper was back. I stroked it slowly before whispering,"But now it's my turn. This is my home, and you'll do what I say."He moaned deeply, passionately, and I could feel him trembling. Stepping back once, I moved my hand from the side of his face to his chin, forcing his forefront back. I kissed his spine and shoulders tenderly, softly tracing his spine with my fingers, and punctuated it quickly with a slap of his ass. It felt softer and braggart than I had anticipated.

"This ass is mine, you got that ?"

"Mmm, yes ma'am. It's all yours ”, Matthew sighed. I was surprised to take heed his voice had soften as a great deal as it had, and I looked down to see pre-cum escaping his erection. He knew what I was quick to do to him, and he wanted it. I fucking loved it. Squeezing his ass again, I walked over to the bed and told him to follow me. We were closing to the light, and I could see his formulation better than I could previously. He had completely submitted to me, and all it took was a couple sentences. The longer this went on, and the more he readily responded to my authority, the more aware I was of the moisture in my pantie.

"Take those off,"I demanded, pointing to the only article of clothing he still had on : his pre-cum stained blue boxer briefs. Grabbing the sash and avoiding eye contact with me, he began to slip his underclothes off his hips, until I stopped him.

"No. wrick your back to me. I want see your little ass when you bent over. It's mine, isn't it ?"

"Yes… yes ma'am, it is,"he replied. He turned around removed his underwear, and again, I was shocked at how big his ass was once there was nothing left to embrace it up. His ass wasn't hairy, and neither was his hole. I could see he'd also bleached it. He was ready. After a instant, he turned around and looked at me. His cock looked even harder. I smirked.

"Now, be a full boy and come lie on the bed with me."

Gospel According to Matthew was excited, despite his demeanor. He crawled onto the bed and did More than I was expecting : he got down on all fours and arched his book binding, spreading his legs out to discover his soaked asshole. Oh, have it away, I thought. This is so hot. I'd never been with a man like him before. So many men are afraid of their back entrance, and so despite my desire to toy with a man's ass, I'd never met one who wanted to not only give it a try, but who was positively obsessed with it. Matthew wanted me to do anything I wanted to that ass of his, and I knew it. It'd been awhile since he'd slept with a woman who wanted to do this with him, and his craving for a strap on in his asshole was so hot that I wanted to establish him tell me exactly how he wanted this to go.

"Little Matty,"I began to ask as I moved around on the bed and began to crusade my wet cunt against his ass. It felt so good and soft."I know you want me to fuck your piddling trap. I can tell apart how badly you want to bounce up and down on that didlo I bought just for you. But before you do, I need you to distinguish me in great point exactly what you want."Again, I leaned forward and pulled his point back toward me by his hair.

"Yes ma'am, I will."He paused, cleared his pharynx, and spoke.

"I want you eat my ass. I've gotten off on the thought of your knife around my jam while I use my hips to dig your face.I want you to go around my ass cheeks out so I can rub it against your tongue and lips. I love it when you squeeze and grab and slap my ass, it makes me sense owned. Like my body isn't mine, but yours. I would love for you to lick my taint and free rein with my pecker with one hand. I want to you fuck my ass so trench and hard, grabbing my hips and making my ass spring against your aphrodisiac physical structure. I do, I do desire to bounce on your dildo. I want it so badly. I want you to do whatever you want to my ass. It's yours."

God, that was so fucking hot. I had to use everything in me to baulk my enticement to moan right then. I didn't wan na let him in on how much he'd turned me on quite yet. He could not have had a more unadulterated ass either : smooth peel, a little muscular but still flabby enough that it jiggled when I slapped it, perfectly daily round. I just wanted to feel it against my clitoris for a piece. I slid my manus slowly down his arched back and slapped his cheeks with both manpower, then grabbed a handful of each, causing Saint Matthew the Apostle to startle, then moan. He arched his back even more, showing me his tight gob once again. I could not wait to have that pressed up against my tongue. But I wanted to make him waitress.

My helping hand migrated from his easy ass to his hips, pulling him in finisher. Pointing my groin a little more upwards, I began moving my pelvic girdle against his ass in a flier apparent movement. I loved watching as his ass squished against my soundbox. Steadily, I built a lilliputian speed, and his hips started twisting as well, rubbing his right buttock right up against my clitoris. It felt so good I couldn't service but let out a moan, and he followed suit. My nipples were now intemperate and I noticed I was biting my lip. He was had me so fucking wet. Matthew's hullabaloo was building too, as he pushed his ass into me toilsome and harder. Suddenly, he stopped the sexy swirling of his hips and took to bouncing his ass back on my clit. I remained still, watching as his ass moved forward and backward, jiggling every time, making a slapping sound as his skin made physical contact with mine.

I had to give birth him, and I had to birth him now. I slid back on the bed to lie on my stomach, reaching out to grab his hips and displume his ass down to meet me face. Pushing his ass nerve apart, I buried my face into him, the musty scent sending a shockwave from my nipples to my conceited clit. I made circular apparent motion with my clapper on his besotted small mother fucker and felt his body tense from the intensity of the sense experience. Levi released the longest, most desperate moan I'd heard in all my old age, and it sent me reeling. After lubricating his hole with my spit, I slapped his ass and went to township. I couldn't fucking believe this was, how sexy it was to own my aspect between this man's cheeks, and how much he fucking loved it. I bit his bequeath impudence, then his right, then I tongue fucked him, with him moaning and sighing and panting all the while.

"Oh fuck yeah, eat that ass,"he said in a breathy phonation, his head teacher turned back to me and his right wing script holding my head right where he liked it. Now he was bouncing his ass up and down, rubbing his wet hole on my tidal bore natural language. I felt I could do this for minute. We continued for a while, me slapping and grabbing his ass, spitting on his hole, flicking my natural language this way and that way, sliding my spit down periodically to lick his taint and suck on his balls ; him humping my grimace, moaning and swearing with joy, tugging on his turncock. After a moment, I sucked on my finger and skid it into his golf hole, and was surprised to feel him push himself into my paw. The moaning got louder as I moved now to using two fingerbreadth and he twisted and gyrated his hips. I soon noticed I was moaning too, and I was so wet I could feel my own moisture running down my thighs.

"God, I want to fuck you so bad,"I said, my fingers still inside his asshole."I want that ass so bad."

"Yes, delight fuck me. Fuck my like you mean it,"he replied.

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the strap on and, fumbling all the spell, I slipped it around my hips, adjusting it just so. The lubricating substance came next ; once we started, I didn't want there to be any cause for us to stop. Matthew looked at me longingly. I could see the prediction in his optic. He was so fix for me. Positioning myself just so behind him, I slowly pushed the shoulder strap on into him, being careful not to go too fast. He let out a sigh of satisfaction, so I sped up a touch modality. My hands were positioned on his hips, and the longer we went the more he arched his rachis, his ass bouncing against me again. I kept slapping it until it was red.

"You like that ?"I asked him while trying to catch my breath.

"Fuck yes, fuck me harder baby. Ooh, yeah, fuck my ass."His moans were growing louder, and much more effeminate. He was so have it off hot. I couldn't wait to make him cum. I fucked him hard, really intemperate. He tugged on his turncock, and I noticed a picayune pool of precum underneath him. Leaning forward and making his binding arch even more, I pulled his hair's-breadth, causing his nous to fall backwards. I could get word his moans better this way.

"Oh God, I'm gon na cum. FUCK yeah, I'm gon na cum !"Matthew gasped, panted, and pushed his bouncing ass into me even harder. A whimper was released, and I knew that he had cum all over my comforter. I pulled the shoulder strap on out of him, and leaned back to catch my breath. We both giggled.



Later that night, after we had eaten the Vietnamese food, smoked dope and pledge the interest, he fucked me and went home. I showered and opened my window to rid it of the odor of sex when I heard my sound bell. He'd texted me. I opened the message to a picture of him, knack over with a digit in his picayune jam. I had no idea how he'd gotten that picture.

"No one has ever made me cum that backbreaking before. Let's do it again next workweek ?"read his message.

"Inferno yes ; )"I replied, and went to log Z's .