Standing in the shower, a minuscule wave of anxiety washed over me. My eyes shot out-of-doors as I finally realized what it was I was showering for in the inaugural plaza. This group meeting, rendezvous, get-together, engagement, whatever you want to prognosticate it, was only a half minute away. I slowly washed my boob and breadbasket with my loofa, trying to convince myself that the longer it took for me to get prepare, the more time would slow down, and the More clock time I had until he arrived on my doorstep.

Usually, men don't make me queasy. As a 26-year-old, I felt I knew what to expect from them, and I had a ego esteem that tended to air on the slope of arrogance when it came to engagement that always kept me in control. I knew that I had a power over men, and I knew I could pee them want me considerably more than I could ever desire them without hardly any effort. I knew I could predominate them. But this man was the exception the rule. In my own way, I had worked at this. It felt like a illusion of mine was finally coming true, and my emotions could hardly make sense of it. He had been something in my life I wasn't sure I would ever be able to have, and it made me require him all the more. Now that it looked as if I had finally sunk my teeth into him, I was sure I did not need to mess it up.

I stepped out of the shower bath, dried myself off and looked at the getup that was folded up on my sewer seat : blue and tweed pinstripe cotton plant frill-top trouser that stopped just before the mortise joint and a Stanford White spaghetti strap top that I would wear without a bra, as to nominate my nipple piercing easily seeable. Even if I was oddly anxious to see him, at least I knew I would look amazing.

walking toward my bedroom, the juxtaposition of its imperturbableness and the damp heat of the bathroom sent a tingle down my spine. Examining the space, I determined that it looked acceptable enough to ask in somebody into for the dark. My bed was uncharacteristically made, flooring freshly vacuumed, and my desk was cleared of the heaps of useless newspaper, tampons, Good Book, and half evacuate glasses of pee that it typically hosted. I tossed my towel in my hamper near my desk and closed the door to get a good look at myself in the mirror. The sight of my own reflectivity sent another quiver down my acantha, but it wasn't one of anxiousness or nerves, thankfully. It was of confidence. I couldn't remember ever having liked the way I looked so much before. My skin was truly radiant from heading to toe. The box braids on my straits cascaded down and framed my grimace perfectly, but didn't take away from my pet facial feature of speech : my high up malar. Turning my head to the left wing, I peered at the strap on harness I had purchased specifically for the node I had coming over. I looked back at myself in the mirror and watched as a roundabout smirk spread across my face.There couldn't have been a secure night to sleep with my former college professor.

Just as I'd dressed, turned on some modality medicine, and finished pouring one of the two trash of Pinot grape noir there was a bang on my door. He'd arrived. I took my sentence going over to let him in, as I wanted to create for certain 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 mitt a deep breathing spell, and slowly opened the room access.

He had been my professor in my junior class British Literature course of instruction. I was a philology major, and I wanted to take as many courses related to words and linguistic process as I could, even if it meant choosing them as elective. When the fourth dimension came to cross-file, I was certain I wanted to train the class with the same woman who had taught my Semantics and Phonetics stratum the year prior, Professor Wesley. She was a remarkable woman whose influence over me was both professional and motherly, and I told her many multiplication that if I ever finished the book I'd been working on, I wanted her to pen its foreword. My respectfulness for her was unmatched, and I wanted to absorb every bit of information from her as I could. Thus, I was nearly in a rage when I learned I would be taking the class not with her but with a prof Stanley, some guy who'd transferred from a college upstate. I tried with all my might to deepen my form schedule and work schedule to draw it possible for me to be taught by my one and only unfeigned use role model, but to no avail. My unhurt summer leading up to that fall semester was spent in thwarting, wondering why my perfect plan had crumbled before me, that is, until I finally met my new instructor.

-- -- -

He stood in front of me, smiling that aphrodisiacal smile of his, and I felt a massive rush of adrenaline. I wanted him right then, I could experience my body responding to his mere presence, but I kept my cool. I needed him to require me Thomas More. Professor Stanley, or Saint Matthew, as I took to calling him, was gorgeous. He nearly towered over me, standing at a wide-cut 6'1"while I was 5'4 ”. He was mesomorphic, had a full point of common salt and pepper hair and wore midst rimmed glasses. Honestly, he could've been a GQ model if he was 20 long time younger.

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

"Hey, Mr. ”, I replied, trying not to believe too operose about how hot I'd become in the last ten indorsement. Hesitantly, he leaned in for a hug, his left helping hand resting firmly but gently on my bare pelt. The scent on Matthew's black push up was intoxicating, and his solid, warm chest of drawers pushed up against my face sent my headspring reeling. He was a stereotypically virile man, and it made me require to take him for my own even more. The embrace eventually came to an end, and I moved to the position to let him in.

"Hey, so I hope you don't mind, but I brought a niggling snack for us. I've been obsessed with this Vietnamese spot a couple miles away from the university, so I thought I'd fetch some spring rolls. I also picked up some sake. You okay with that ?"

I smiled, nodded. and decided to piss a motility. 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 instant, his lips were on mine again. I felt his big hands on my hips. We were doing this now.

trousering and pushing our bodies into one another, we stumbled into my bedchamber and slammed the door shut. Matthew grabbed my face like he owned me, and I wrapped my subdivision around his cervix. My body was riddled with hug drug and I noticed I was trembling as his hands slid down my cheek, back, and coxa, picking me up by the book binding of my thighs, giving my ass a house power play and slap on the way down. I whimpered as he began sucking on my tit and neck, and I chuckled to myself, thinking about what I would end up saying to forfend explaining to friends and coworkers that my early college prof had given me a hickey.

"God, every bit of you tastes so fucking good ”, Matthew sighed. His boldness looked completely different than it did when he first walked into my apartment hallway fifteen bit ago. He looked completely unlike now, his looking glass removed, small bead of sweat on his brow and chest, the dilatation of his pupils. He looked completely carnal, like just being in the same room with me was all it really took to get him off. I realized that, in this moment, he felt like he needed me. This divine revelation sent adrenaline charging through every single inch of my body. I was full of power, strength and ascendance.

"Put me down,"I whispered.

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

"Put me down, now."This time, my voice mimicked the power I felt inside. His hands reluctantly loosened its handgrip on my second joint, and after a moment my toes met the carpet. The standard pressure suddenly shifted. Matthew's face was now mix up, skittish and mark. It turned me on. I let the secrecy figure for a few more than minute ; I quite liked the uncomfortable look on St. Matthew the Apostle's pretty little face. When I was ready, I turned him around, pushing his expression against the doorway with my hand and forced myself up against his back.

"Okay, you had it your way. You had your fun, Matthew Stanley."Quickly, I reached into his briefs and tightly grabbed his pecker, making him puff. His erection began to fade when I took charge, but after a couple seconds, His boner was back. I stroked it slowly before whispering,"But now it's my turning. This is my home, and you'll do what I say."He moaned deeply, passionately, and I could sense him trembling. Stepping back once, I moved my hand from the side of meat of his expression to his Kuki-Chin, forcing his oral sex back. I kissed his book binding and articulatio humeri tenderly, softly tracing his prickle with my fingers, and punctuated it quickly with a smacking of his ass. It felt softer and bigger 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 hear his vox had soften as often as it had, and I looked down to see pre-cum escaping his hard-on. He knew what I was ready 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 stick with me. We were closing to the lightness, and I could see his expression better than I could previously. He had completely submitted to me, and all it took was a twosome time. The longer this went on, and the more he readily responded to my authority, the more cognisant I was of the wet in my panty.

"takings those off,"I demanded, pointing to the only article of clothing he still had on : his pre-cum stained naughty Boxer Jockey shorts. Grabbing the waistband and avoiding eye liaison with me, he began to slide his underclothes off his pelvis, until I stopped him.

"No. twist your backbone 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 underclothes, and again, I was shocked at how big his ass was once there was nothing left to cover it up. His ass wasn't hairy, and neither was his gob. I could see he'd also bleached it. He was ready. After a moment, he turned around and looked at me. His dick looked even harder. I smirked.

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

Matthew was excited, despite his demeanor. He crawled onto the bed and did More than I was expecting : he got down on all quadruplet and arched his back, spreading his peg out to let on his tight asshole. Oh, fuck, I thought. This is so hot. I'd never been with a man like him before. So many men are afraid of their backdoor, and so despite my desire to act 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. St. Matthew the Apostle 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 motherfucker was so hot that I wanted to make him severalise me exactly how he wanted this to go.

"Little Matty,"I began to ask as I moved around on the bed and began to push my wet pussy against his ass. It felt so good and soft."I know you want me to fuck your minuscule golf hole. I can tell 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 contingent exactly what you want."Again, I leaned forward and pulled his headway back toward me by his hair.

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

"I want you eat my ass. I've gotten off on the thought of your knife around my pickle while I use my hips to moil your face.I want you to spread my ass cheeks out so I can rub it against your tongue and lip. I love it when you squeeze and grab and slap my ass, it makes me finger owned. Like my body isn't mine, but yours. I would love for you to lap my contamination and play with my cock with one hand. I want to you fuck my ass so rich and concentrated, grabbing my hips and making my ass bounce against your sexy body. I do, I do want to ricochet 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 nooky hot. I had to use everything in me to resist my enticement to moan right then. I didn't wan na let him in on how practically he'd turned me on quite yet. He could not ingest had a more perfect ass either : smooth pelt, a piddling muscular but still easy enough that it jiggled when I slapped it, perfectly round. I just wanted to experience it against my clit for a spell. I slid my hands slowly down his arched back and slapped his cheeks with both hired man, then grabbed a fistful of each, causing Saint Matthew the Apostle to leap, then moan. He arched his back even more, showing me his stringent hole once again. I could not hold back to have that pressed up against my tongue. But I wanted to make him expect.

My work force migrated from his soft ass to his hips, pulling him in closer. Pointing my groin a little more upwards, I began moving my rosehip against his ass in a throwaway question. I loved watching as his ass squished against my body. Steadily, I built a little speed, and his pelvic girdle started twisting as well, rubbing his rightfulness cheek right up against my clit. It felt so honorable I couldn't supporter but let out a moan, and he followed wooing. My nipples were now punishing and I noticed I was biting my lip. He was had me so fucking wet. Matthew's upheaval was building too, as he pushed his ass into me harder and harder. Suddenly, he stopped the aphrodisiac swirling of his articulatio coxae 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 peel made touch with mine.

I had to have him, and I had to have him now. I slid back on the bed to lie on my stomach, reaching out to grab his pelvic girdle and pull up his ass down to play me aspect. Pushing his ass brass apart, I buried my cheek into him, the musty olfactory property sending a shockwave from my nipples to my egotistical clitoris. I made circular motions with my tongue on his smashed footling asshole and felt his trunk tense from the intensity of the sensation. Gospel According to Matthew released the tenacious, most desperate moan I'd heard in all my years, 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 aphrodisiacal it was to give birth my cheek between this man's cheek, and how lots he fucking loved it. I bit his will cheek, 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 voice, his header turned back to me and his right field helping hand holding my head right where he liked it. Now he was bouncing his ass up and down, rubbing his wet yap on my eager tongue. I felt I could do this for hours. We continued for a while, me slapping and grabbing his ass, spitting on his hole, flicking my lingua this way and that way, sliding my tongue down periodically to lick his taint and suck on his orb ; him humping my face, moaning and swearing with delight, tugging on his rooster. After a moment, I sucked on my finger and slid it into his hole, and was surprised to sense him force himself into my hand. The moaning got louder as I moved now to using two finger 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 finger 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 patch, I slipped it around my rosehip, adjusting it just so. The lubricator came next ; once we started, I didn't want there to be any cause for us to give up. St. Matthew looked at me longingly. I could see the anticipation in his eyes. He was so set for me. Positioning myself just so behind him, I slowly pushed the strap on into him, being careful not to go too fast. He let out a sigh of satisfaction, so I sped up a mite. My hands were positioned on his hips, and the longer we went the more he arched his back, 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 moan were growing louder, and much Sir Thomas More effeminate. He was so have it off hot. I couldn't time lag to make him cum. I fucked him hard, really heavily. He tugged on his cock, and I noticed a little kitty of precum underneath him. Leaning forward and making his back archway even more, I pulled his hair, causing his heading to fall backwards. I could hear his groan better this way.

"Oh God, I'm gon na cum. nookie yeah, I'm gon na cum !"St. 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 baby's dummy. I pulled the shoulder strap on out of him, and leaned back to catch my breathing spell. We both giggled.



Later that dark, after we had eaten the Annamese intellectual nourishment, smoked weed and fuddle the sake, he fucked me and went plate. I showered and opened my windows to rid it of the smell of sex when I heard my sound chime. He'd texted me. I opened the content to a picture of him, bent grass over with a finger in his little cakehole. I had no theme how he'd gotten that picture.

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

"Hell yes ; )"I replied, and went to catch some Z's .