I was sure that someone must have heard what had happened. Paranoia crept into my every thought, along with the guilt of what I'd done with Emma the night before.
The night when I'd fucked a nineteen your old student of mine in my tent.
Over breakfast I had gingerly asked my colleagues whether they had heard any strange noises last night, but none of them claimed to have heard a thing. I'd shared a brief look with the teen that I'd shared myself with and she offered no visible cue of what she was thinking.
Finding time to speak with Emma alone was impossible, even though I really needed to. I came inside of her. Not just a little, but fully emptied my sack into her tight pussy. I wanted to ask if she was on birth control, I wanted to hear what she was thinking. Did she feel the same guilt I did? She did have a boyfriend at home after all. And she had instigated it all - it wasn't like I would have instigated anything. It took her hand around my manhood to coax any real reaction from me.
I could still remember it all though, burned onto my brain like a tattoo. I could still feel her heavy breathing against my palm, her mouth covered while I thrust my hard cock into her. I could still feel the graze of her pink nipples against my chest as she slowly rode me on my lap, and then the way she had come undone under me.
I swear I'd been walking around with a stiff cock most of the day as the memory continued to plague me. No opportunity came to speak with Emma, so the thoughts built like a pressure inside of me, begging to be released in the most dangerous way. I couldn't do it again, I told myself over and over, even if I'd seemingly gotten away with fucking someone in my care, someone who wasn't my wife. I had to be strong and refrain from doing anything stupid.
When night comes I make sure I'm the last one awake in the hope that Emma might come out of her tent, which is beside mine. I tell myself it's so we can talk about what happened, but the bulge in my shorts shows that for the lie it is. All I can think about is her supple young body under mine again.
She doesn't come out, regardless of how much at I stare at the closed tent flap. With reluctance I leave the dying fire and head to my own tent, undressing and then getting into my sleeping bag, trying to fight the demons that the young woman has awoken inside of me.
My eyes are just starting to droop when I hear a sound. I lift my head up and look around, but there's no one in the tent and there's no one outside that I can hear rustling around. I listen for a moment and slowly work out what it is.
Soft moaning. Coming from the tent beside mine.
I take a sharp intake of breath when the realisation hits at what Emma is doing barely a few yards from me. My cock instantly stiffens at the mental image of her sliding her small fingers into her pussy, of her back arching and her hand gripping at one of her large breasts. Was she thinking about me, or her boyfriend?
The sound was like a siren call to me, and I gripped my hair in frustration. I couldn't go. I really couldn't. There was too much to lose by even opening my tent, nevermind doing anything else.
Yet I still put my shorts on. And I still opened my tent and shuffled silently to hers on my knees in the dewy grass. I pause before the now silent tent and wonder what the fuck am I doing. It's only a moment, but I'm wincing at how weak I am as I grip the zipper and slowly open Emma's tent.
There was no more noise, only the sound of me closing the flap to the outside world. In the dim light of the tent I can make out Emma laid out on her single mattress, eyes shut and wearing a white vest top. Dark hair splays around her head like a dark halo of sorts and her sheet covers the left side of her body, the white fabric tangled around one leg but not covering her exposed sex, which glistens provocatively at me.
My breathing quickens and I glance at Emma's face. Her eyes remain shut, but the small quirk of her mouth makes it apparent she's not asleep and that she knows who is in her tent. I look back down to her sex and, thinking with my cock once more, let my hands touch her bare leg.
She doesn't even flinch.
Slowly my hand runs up her smooth leg and to the inside of her pale thighs. My eyes look up to see if she will open hers, let me catch a glimpse of her pretty chestnut irises, but the only change is the slight smile on her face. She is so fucking sure of herself, I think, both angry and aroused by the teen.
A finger traces around her clit and she shifts slightly on the bed, making a sigh of contentment. She still feigns sleep. I want her to scream, I want her to beg for me and my cock. Everything about this woman draws out the very worst in me, making me forget all the vows I'd made fifteen years ago to my wife in front of all our family and friends. Making me forget the colleagues and students within feet of us as my hand wanders along her beautiful figure.
I need to drown out those thoughts, and I decide to in the most foolhardy way. I lean forward and place my mouth on her clit. My tongue drags along the small nub, and finally, finally, she makes the same moan I'd heard from my tent only minutes ago.
