Jessica felt like she was drowning in her own stupidity.
She knew it was a mistake to come to Lionel just before his wedding to sleep together and tell him her true feelings about him, the love she held in her heart since their first hookup. But she never stood a chance. Not against Morgan, his fiancé, or the six stunning gorgeous women they both dated on the side. Lionel loved his wife-to-be and his other girlfriends with all his heart. He tried to tell Jessica he loved her too, but she didn't want that life anymore. She didn't want to be part of a harem, and that's what it was, even if Lionel and everyone else refused to call it that.
Instead, Jessica walked away. He didn't try to stop her, and that hurt almost as much as his rejection. Would he have gone after any of the others? Jessica was sure of it. But instead of trying to convince her to stay, Lionel went back inside his big house, doubtless already forgetting her and preparing for that night's orgy.
She walked away and vowed never to let her heart be broken again.
* * *
Dr. Windsor stood with her back to the class. Corbin couldn't take his eyes off her curvy ass sheathed in her gray knee-length skirt, or the black hosiery defining her legs. His fantasies ran away with him almost immediately. He imagined her calling him to the front of the class, and he'd lift that skirt up to reveal her MILFy ass in a thong or bikini briefs. He'd tug them down just far enough that he could bend her over and fuck her, right in front of everyone.
Dr. Windsor was one of the sexiest women on campus, and of those, there were tons. Agramonte University attracted them in droves. It ranked consistently in the top ten party schools in the nation, and with its emphasis on good pay right out the gate, the teachers tended to be young and beautiful or handsome too. There were thirty or forty professors arguably just as hot as Pamela Windsor, though she was definitely Corbin's pick for number one.
She turned, saying something, but Corbin barely noticed. His eyes were drawn to her breasts in the sleeveless top under her sharp blazer. Of course they were. Every guy in the room seemed to stiffen every time they came back into view. There was never anything outright sexual about her choice in clothing, but she had the kind of hourglass figure perfect for Italian runways. And there was always a tiny bounce to her movements, as deadly hypnotic as anything Corbin ever saw.
Rumor had it she had a smoking hot daughter on campus too. That was hard to believe. No way was Dr. Windsor out of her thirties. She had to be too young to have a daughter in college, though Corbin supposed his own parents would be about her age. They had been young when they had him. It was hard to reconcile that fact, though -- his father was already nearly bald, and his mother was a joyously round woman who had always looked older than her years, even when she was a teenager.
Dr. Windsor spoke again, and this time, several of Corbin's classmates looked around at him. He didn't notice. He was fantasizing about puling that top up and the cups of the sexy professor's bra down so he could suck her fat, full nipples into his mouth and-
"Mr. Block!" Dr. Windsor said.
The snickers around him finally snapped Corbin out of it. He blinked, aware he was achingly hard under the desk and glad there was a small lip so no one could see his jeans tenting.
"The Geneva Convention?" Corbin said. They were talking about that at some point, right? Worth a guess.
The class burst out laughing. Dr. Windsor's lips quirked in what might have been a smile if she wasn't trying to be stern in that moment. "And what does the Geneva Convention have to do with the year in which Joseph McCarthy came to power?"
"Ah," Corbin said. His mind began to drift as Dr. Windsor came closer and closer, her black presentation clicker in hand. He imagined it as some kind of sex toy she was about to offer him to tease her.
Focus, he mentally snapped at himself.
"Nineteen... fifty?"
"Very good," Dr. Windsor said. "And only.... two minutes on after I asked you."
The class broke out into laughter again. Corbin blushed as Dr. Windsor stood in front of his table. Her vanilla bean lotion incensed him to an even bigger bulge. He wanted to lick up every inch of his professor's skin the lotion touched. There were no lines of a bra underneath her top, either, but he could see no nipple outlined in the fabric. Was she wearing pasties?
Good God, what was the matter with him?
"And with a slightly faster response, what was Joseph McCarthy famous for?"
"He, ah, led something of a communist witch hunt when he was a, um, senator?"
Dr. Windsor's eyes crinkled and she nodded. "Very good." She moved on, and Corbin released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. There was one very big problem, though. His hard-on wasn't shrinking and they were only minutes away from the end of class.
Go down, he shouted at himself.
Make me, his cock seemed to shout back. Or better yet, make her. Mm, imagine that big juicy ass bouncing on me.
For fuck's sake, go DOWN!
"What was that, Mr. Block?" Dr. Windsor asked.
Corbin realized he'd mouthed the words "go down," and looked up, horrified. "Uh, nothing."
"Stay after class," Dr. Windsor said. "I'm no longer amused."
Corbin nodded weakly, and wanted to sink his head against the table. This time, no one laughed. The timer on Dr. Windsor's phone mercifully trilled not long after, and everyone rushed out of there, save for him.
His professor folded her arms expectantly, and when the last student walked out, she snapped, "Well?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was mumbling what I was thinking."
"And what were you thinking, Mr. Block?"
"Oh, um..." Corbin blushed and stared at his tabletop. "Uh."
"Then let me presume some things. I'm going to go ahead and guess that you were distracted by me, is that about right?"
Corbin's blush went red hot, and he whispered, "Oh shit."
"Oh shit is about right. Mr. Block, I am a woman. There are women all around you on a day-to-day-basis. You are, what, eighteen, nineteen?"
"Nineteen," he murmured. "I got a... a late start to college."
"I don't care. You are old enough that a pair of breasts and a butt should not distract you from your coursework. If you lose focus this easily, you are going to have a hell of a rough semester here on campus and elsewhere in life. Grow up."
"I'm sorry," Corbin said.
"Go. Get to your next class."
"I... I shouldn't... stand up." He finally looked up, his stomach lurching. Dr. Windsor stared at him, arms folded.
"Are you serious?" she hissed. "After that speech?"
"I'm sorry. It was from earlier and I have a hard time, um, making it go down sometimes, and Jesus Christ I've never been this embarrassed."
Something in her expression softened, and a flicker of a smile appeared. Dr. Windsor sighed, but it seemed more annoyed than angry. "I have another class coming in just a few minutes, so there's not much time. There's a men's room across the hallway. You have a backpack. Pretend to be digging through it and hurry there. With any luck there's an empty stall and you can give yourself a few minutes to calm down."
Despite the bulge in his pants, Corbin scrambled to his feet and snatched up his backpack. "Thank you, I'm sorry, this really isn't me, I swear."
Her eyes flicked down, then back up, and now it was her turn to blush. "Go. Now."
He did.
* * *
Whoever came up with the work-study job title "Athletic Supporter" deserved both an award and a kick to the nuts, but Corbin really liked the job. He was a jack-of-all-trades for the athletic complex. Most the week that meant he cleaned up the equipment in the school's all-purpose gym. Not exactly challenging work, but he listened to kick-ass music, watched hot women work out, and best of all, he got to bullshit pretty regularly with the assistant sports director Kenny Kilton, man-god and a young living legend.
Once the school's star halfback, Kenny went pro for three seasons. He was a good player, alternating positions where needed and providing both offensive speed and hawkish defensive smarts. In his last game, a nasty hit by two of the opposing team took him out, and rumors swirled about him suffering a career-ending concussion, but no one was really certain why he retired. He returned to the college he loved and took on a job first as an assistant coach, and then as the assistant sports director.
Kenny Kilton was Corbin's hero. Not because of his sports legacy -- Corbin liked football but wasn't rabid about it -- but because the young athletic director was the center of cool. Tall, powerfully built, and looking like he was made in a tank factory, Kenny was one of the handsomest guys around. His crooked smile drew women to him. Even his voice was freaking cool, dark and low.
His office was right across from the all-purpose gym. He wasn't in there as Corbin headed in to begin work, which usually meant Kenny was hitting the treadmill or helping one of the students get in a workout. Those "students" invariably were the hottest young women who came in. Sometimes that part made Corbin a little weirded out. Kilton didn't seem to care that he flirted sometimes with eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girls ten years younger than himself.
His current girlfriend was at least a senior. Brooke Wallace sat between her man's hips on a workout bench, his arms wrapped loosely around her. She was dressed in yellow workout pants and a sports bra, leaving her tight toned abs on full display. Her blonde hair, usually blown out like some kind of surfer girl, was matted to her head and she toyed with it. Despite her knockout body, it was always her green-blue eyes that made Corbin sit up and take notice. Like her hair, they reminded him of the sea, and could still him to near-paralysis when they fell upon him, as they did now.
Brooke smiled and gave him a wave. Kenny caught the motion and glanced over to nod. Corbin nodded back, insanely jealous that the man's prick would be pressed right against Brooke's soft backside. He set to work, digging out the cleaning equipment from a small storage closet in the back of the gym. The humiliation he felt earlier in Dr. Windsor's class still burned bright, and he worked quietly and quickly, throwing himself into wiping down the machines.
Kenny eventually found his way over, grinning lazily. "How's it going, Corb?"
"Ah, you know," Corbin said, trying to sound cool. "How about you? Getting ready for the games this weekend?"
"Oh hell yeah. We're going to kick some ass across the board. Where do we got you working?"
"Taking tickets for the swim meet."
Kenny's eyes lit up. "Good deal. Let me know what people think of the new annex." The old swimming complex had been demolished the previous spring, making way for a shiny new glass-fronted building that looked like NASA redesigned it.
Corbin grinned. "Will do."
