Melinda Matson - A seductive student

The professor opened his mouth to reply, but no sounds came out…

Joselyn's heart leapt. She knew she had him. He wanted her all right, wanted her so badly that he could taste it. She imagined that she could actually feel the heat of his excitement washing over her skin. Part of her wanted him to grovel, to crawl for it to kiss and suck her dainty toes for it, and another part of her, a part that she was only dimly aware of, wanted him to assault her, to ravage her unmercifully like the Aztec priest in her fantasy. The two completely opposite needs, the urge to dominate and the desire to be dominated, tugged and pulled at her insides, creating a terrible tension within her. Tension was nothing new to her. It was something she felt with each new sexual partner. As had happened every time before, her aggressive, dominant self came to the fore, rising to the surface of the anxiety that engulfed her.

"What are you looking at?!" she snapped in her most bitchy tone.

"I… uhhh," Dr. Bertrand said, blinking rapidly.

"You're staring at my pussy!" she exclaimed. She made no effort to close her thighs, however. She was, in fact, flaunting her sexy cunt, waving it like a red flag practically right under his nose…

Her accusation was so unexpected and yet so obviously true that the professor didn't quite know what to do. His face turned bright red under the dark suntan.

Bertrand's apparent inability to rise to her challenge, to do something masculine, aggressive, dominant infuriated her no end.

"If you want to see it so badly, professor, why don't you ask?" she demanded.

"Can I see it?" he asked her feebly, his breathing already becoming labored, hoarse. He leaned over his) cluttered desk, craning his neck in her direction.

"No I'm sorry you can't!" she said, smiling fiercely at him. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"No, Ms. Foche, I'm sorry, I didn't mean, I mean…" he babbled apologetically.

Every acquiescence on his part, every show of his weakness, only made her madder, made her want to humiliate him more. Was his reputation as a stud as undeserved as Paul's?! She wanted to drive him to the brink, to force him to take action against her, physical action. In this regard, she had two major obstacles. First there was her beauty. She was an exquisite, fragile creature that only a real beast, an animal would even consider using force against her to get what he wanted. The second was her expertise in verbally battering her partners. Her tone was so scornful, so aloof that it could turn any man with the slightest doubt about his ability to handle her into so much quivering jelly.

"You didn't mean what?!" she said. "You asked me to let you look at my pussy. Are you now saying you don't want to see it?"

Dr. Bertrand's face turned a deeper shade of red, his babbling finally became totally incoherent. The general tone of his mumbling was still apologetic, however.

"If you really wanted to see it, to take a little peek," she said, teasingly, "I mean, really, I might consider it, but since you don't…"

Bertrand gave her a confounded look. Then he said. "But I do! God, I do!!"

She frowned at him. "Before I let you look," she said, "you're going to have to promise me something."

"Anything!" he moaned in exasperation.

Joselyn knew she could've asked him for the assistantship then and there and that he would've given it to her, but she didn't. Perhaps it was just part of her contrary nature, or maybe she realized subconsciously that she didn't want to work under a man as spineless as he seemed to be.

"Promise me that you'll sit over there," she said, pointing at the paper-laden, office chair across the room from hers. "And that you won't bulge unless I tell you to."

"Hey, you don't have to worry about my trying anything with you…" he began.

"I want your promise, Dr. Bertrand," she repeated firmly.

"I promise," he said.

She watched as he rose from his seat behind the desk. He straightened his legs, but his torso remained hunched over. Ashe rounded the desk, she saw the reason for his awkward stance and his curious, shuffling gait. The professor had a monumental erection! The whole front of his Bermudas was pushed out of shape by the outline of his hard cock. It ran down the inside of his left leg, thick and long like a dub. It wanted very much to flip up, to thump upon his massive chest, but the fabric of his shorts restrained it. He had to stay bent over or risk breaking himself off at the root. She giggled at him. Hunched over like that, he looked more than ever like a bear. A funny, horny bear.

"Something wrong, professor?" she asked, cheerfully. He didn't answer, but pushed the papers off the chair seat, then plopped himself down, trying to keep the tension on his groin to a minimum.

"Comfortable?" she asked.

Bertrand winced.

Joselyn giggled at him and slipped down in her chair, down until her buttocks hung just over the edge of the seat. Then she lifted her feet from the floor and bent her knees, pulling her heels back until they almost touched the backs of her thighs, pointing her toes downward. She peered straight down at her own fork, at the white, fluffy fringe of unraveled denim that framed either side of it. If there was a lewder position to face the man in, she could not conceive of it. With her legs raised, her knees practically touching her shoulders, her pelvis tipped up, what she was offering him, if only mockingly, was the full length of her vagina. The good professor was, of course, about ten feet too far away to do anything about it.

He just sat there spellbound, his cock visibly flexing in his shorts as she brushed the white fluff with her fingertips. She carefully pushed it to one side, pushing it away from the edge of the right leg of her shorts. There, in the hollow of her thigh, the white, satiny skin above her tan line was startlingly apparent. But many times more riveting than that was the soft, blonde fuzz that sprouted there, a downy fluff that curled about the material…

Joselyn carefully watched his face as she slipped her index and middle fingers up under the crotch band, as she began to openly play with herself, stroking up and down, up and down over her fat pubic mound. He made a choked, coughing sound and his cock throbbed violently, causing the head of his penis to pop out of the leg hole of his Bermudas like a furious plum. It was flattened horribly against his hairy thigh, the slit in its face forced to gape open by the pressure. From the slit seeped a thick, creamy fluid.

"Ooooh! This feels so good!" she cooed. She wasn't entirely putting it all on for Bertrand, either. Under her fingertips, the lips of her vagina were growing hot and spongy, swelling, puckering, and between them was a heavy moisture, a delicious slickness.

"Show me," he said, his voice a mere whisper, a ragged, pleading whisper.

Joselyn did just that. She didn't play coy and slowly unveil herself to him, but rather, she wrenched the sticky wet band out of the way, letting him see everything she had.

"Uhh!" he groaned, peering down at the hot pink flesh, the shining, well-lubricated flesh of her pussy.

She was wet and then some. Every hair on her mound was plastered down by her love juices, the fat, pouting lips of her vagina bathed in them. She touched those sticky petals with a fingertip, pushing them even further apart, showing him the very mouth of her cunt and the darker, hotter pink meat beyond.

"Wow!" Bertrand moaned miserably, chewing on the edges of his mustache, biting his lips. He was sitting on the very edge of his chair, as close to being off of it as he could get, as close to that inflamed little cunt as he could get.

Joselyn peeled back her labia, folding them over on themselves so that the entire length of her pussy hung wide open, glistening pink lips pouting, taunting from between her legs.