The Ind of Man

If you like build up, this story will not disappoint. Take the time to read it; it'll be worth the wait. I think.

It was late and he honestly hadn't been expecting any company, especially since the school closed down an hour and a half ago. He'd been slaving over paperwork – not students' papers he desperately needed to grade – since five pm and hadn't made much headway in the giant stack that had been given to him. Serving as an accountant for the mafia wasn't as fun as it had sounded, and it sounded kind of boring in the first place. Needless to say his mind was all but taken over and preoccupied. The only comfort he had was the endlessly violent storm that had been rattling the walls for most of the night. All these things considered, he really wasn't expecting someone else to be wandering the school's halls at 12:33AM. Which was why he nearly yelped when he saw someone standing in the doorway to his classroom. Lucky for him, he had taken some improvisation classes in college, and he faked his way out of looking like a complete idiot.

"Well, come into the light so I can see who's been spying on me," he said smoothly. "If you're going to be carelessly spotted, might as well own up to it." The only light illuminating the room was a small lamp he had at his desk, which gave the rest of his classroom a faint shadowy glow. Despite his invitation for the intruder to show themselves, he turned back to his paperwork, eyes down.

"I'm not trying to hide anything, Professor Gordon." The clear, melodious voice accompanied soft footsteps approaching his desk until they stopped and he knew the person was leaning a hand against his desk. He would know that voice anywhere. A few drops of water falling onto his desk made him look up and into the face of one of his favorite students, her hair and clothes soaked and dripping from the rain. He couldn't help but notice how the standard uniform white shirt she was wearing clung to her skin, giving him full view of the green bra she was wearing.

"Alaina," he said, looking at her a bit incredulously, "what are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" she retorted, running a hand through her dark hair, letting more water spill on the floor and, thankfully, not his desk. "That doesn't look like school work to me."

"Don't answer my question with a question," he said, but he closed the folder he'd had open. "I'm a teacher. I'm allowed to be here. Now answer my question."

She took a few steps from his desk and walked to one of the student desks. Turning her back to him, she began to unbutton her shirt.

"I knew you'd be here," she said. "I've seen you working late the past few days."

Pulling the white shirt off her shoulders, she began to tug at her sleeves.

"Uh- what are you doing?" he asked, watching her, and instinctively looking around to make sure no one was around. Stupid.

She paused, looked at him over her bare shoulder as she pulled the entire, soaking shirt off as if it were the most normal thing she could have done at that point in time.

"My clothes... they're soaked." Walking to the trash can, she took the shirt in both hands and wrung it out. Without a word he watched her as she leaned, and the skirt – much too short for school conduct; he wasn't even sure how she got away with that – rose over her plump bottom. Her legs were long, lean... and he finally saw she was barefooted. When her hands moved to unfasten the clasp of her skirt, he snapped out of it.

In a moment he was behind her, draping his black blazer over her shoulders.

"The skirt... leave it on," he said, a command more than a request, but he let his hands fall on her shoulders and rest there for a moment longer than necessary. When he backed away from her, she finally let out the breath she'd been holding. Fine, she thought. The skirt stays... for now. Without removing it, she wrung out the edges, getting at least a bit of water out of it.

"So, you saw I was working late and thought you might pay me a visit, hmm?" he deduced, going back to his desk. She wandered back to the student desk – her own in the front – and sat upon it, crossing her legs.

"Something like that," she said, watching him with dangerous eyes through her black-rimmed glasses. "I... can't stop thinking about you."

"Alaina," he said gently, a bit of warning in his tone.

"It was as bad as it's ever gotten tonight. When I thought there was a possibility I might see you here, I got obsessed. I had to come." She was glad for the dim lighting. Maybe he couldn't see her cheeks blush at such disclosure. "I thought maybe you'd left because of the storm, but I came anyway."

"Without shoes, no less," he said, nodding towards her feet. She pulled her knees up to her chin, lifting with them her skirt which exposed the warm bit of underwear between her thighs. He sighed deeply.

"I don't have to tell you what a terrible idea this was, to come here," he said, forcing himself not to look at her.

"There's no one here," she said, pulling his blazer tighter around her. "It's the safest we've ever been."

He closed his eyes, a great weight upon them. "Don't say it like that," he said.

"Like what?" There was almost offense in her tone.

"Like... like there's a 'we.'"

The look she gave him then... oh, it was almost enough to make him eat his words. But he was right. There was no "we," there could never be a "we." Not unless he wanted to lose his job – a job he rather enjoyed. He knew this and she knew it, too.

Yeah, he knew it. He also knew her being here was solely his fault. He knew at that moment she must have been thinking about one thing and one thing only. He knew it because he was thinking of the same thing.

It hadn't been a week and a half yet since it happened. He had known she'd had an eye for him from the way she acted in his classes. Nothing obvious, but her eyes, they said a lot. It hadn't been the first time a student showed interest. And no, it hadn't been the first time he'd been tempted. Young private college girls, so full of life, so hungry for knowledge, so dripping with hormones. Somehow she and he had ended up in his classroom, just like this. It was daytime; all the students had filed out for lunch – something or other. He was moving things into one of the supply closets, a high shelf. He'd overestimated his ability to keep every paper in place, and the stack began to topple. Here she came to the rescue, arms up and ready to help as she grabbed the falling papers. Together they managed to put it all into place.

It wasn't unusual for her to stay after the rest of them had gone. She usually had questions about the material, or just wanted to chat, completely innocently. But that day had been different. Their bodies had been so close, and when the papers were set and her arms came down, they came down around his neck. He liked the feel of them, the feel of her so close. He'd wanted it for a while now, and here it was, the moment he'd only vaguely fantasized about. Without thinking he put his hands on her waist, pulled her close. For a moment they stood there, faces close, discovering each other. Her smell... it was great. Alluring and deep. And then their lips touched and they were both sucked into the kind of kiss his grandmother would be embarrassed to speak about.

Remembering it now, he put a hand to his brow, cursing himself for having been so unprofessional. Now look what he'd done. She was here and she had expectations, and it was his fault.

Still, as he looked at her sitting there on her own desk, legs pulled up like that... he couldn't help but wonder. They were all alone. It was the middle of the night, and he really doubted if anyone would be stopping by, especially during this storm.

God, what was he thinking?

"Look, Professor Gordon," she said, letting her legs fall off the desk. She strolled over to him, and he didn't miss the sensual swaying of her hips. "I understand our... situation. I know what you're afraid of. I'm afraid, too, and that's what makes me want this even more." She wandered to the back of his chair, laid her delicate hands on his shoulders. He had to work hard not to tremble with fruitless anticipation. Running her hands down his chest from behind, she dug her nails in ever so slightly.

"I'm not asking for any kind of commitment," she said, then leaned down close to his face. Her next words she spoke low into his ear. "I just want you to give in to your desires, and I want you to let me give in to mine. At least this once."

He didn't consciously relax under her touch... but he realized what was happening when she let her hand trail to his pants, between his legs, and he let his head fall back onto her shoulder. She pressed her palm against him, against the bulge forming there, and she squeezed just a little.

He let out a shuddering breath and grabbed her wrist, pulled it back.

"This is a bad idea," he said, but his resistance was faltering. All he could do was hope she didn't realize that... and yet he hoped she did.

Hesitating a moment, she watched him from where she stood over him. Then she slid her hand around his shoulders as she walked to the desk, pushing it out of the way of the chair. All he could do was watch her. When he had pulled her hand away, it had been his last effort to stop. If she tried anything else, he wouldn't be able to stop her again.

With the desk out of the way, she hovered over his chair, putting a hand on either arm of it, leaning over him. She was giving him full view of her cleavage just inches from his face.

"You're right," she said, and for a split second he feared she might pull away and stop. Oh, how his mind had changed so quickly. But instead, she pulled her glasses off, let them fall, and put her legs on either side of him, seating herself on his lap. "It is a bad idea."

Before he knew what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close as their mouths clashed in a hungry kiss. She let her hands knot themselves into his hair and he pulled the blazer off her shoulders, tossing it on the floor. Her hips thrust against him, his dick hardening fast beneath her.

She sighed as their mouths parted for a breath, and she began to unbutton his shirt. His hands busied themselves with her bra, and in no time her breasts spilled out and into his hands. Groping her chest, he leaned forward and let his tongue pass against her neck, taking her skin between his lips and sucking hard. They were so close that she couldn't finish opening his shirt. She continued thrusting her hips with stifled moans as his hands kneaded her breasts. Desperation gripped her, and she pushed him far away enough so she could get his shirt off, and her dangling bra along with it.

Gripping her waist, he pulled her to her feet, his mouth finding hers again as their tongues danced. He pushed her back and her bottom finally found the desk. He heaved her onto it and she let her legs wrap around him. Leaning down, he cupped her breasts and filled his mouth with one, sucking eagerly, then flicking his tongue with pleasure. She sighed and gasped, pulling him close, letting her nails dig into his bare back.

Pulling away from her breasts, his mouth found her neck again and he let his hands run up and down her back, defining every curve and line. Letting them fall a little lower, he stuck his fingertips past the edge of her skirt and past her panties, feeling the crack of her ass.

She pushed him away from her again, tugged at the rim of his pants as she fumbled with the buttons. He helped her, watching her hungry, desperate eyes lock onto his crotch. When his pants were opened, he shoved them down, and she was already pulling on his boxers. His hardened cock was ready and sprang out of his boxers as soon as she could pull them down. She let her hands run the lines between his thighs, gently stroking his testicles and then caressing his manhood with sudden gentleness. And then, as if she had been starved for days, she took him into her mouth. It was a thrilling sensation for both of them, and she let her tongue find him and examine him as she pulled forward and back, pursing her lips around him. He put a hand to the back of her head and helped her along, slowly thrusting towards her with his hips. She sucked and licked, and when she thought he was wet enough, she pulled away, let her hands fold around him. The slick saliva let her hands run up and down his full, throbbing cock, sending a ripple of pleasure through his whole body.

He could hold himself for a while, but when he thought he might burst, he grasped her hands, held them close to him, kissed her mouth. And then he pushed her backwards, shoving away anything on the desk behind her. He let her lay on her back, her breasts heaping on her chest. Trailing his hands along her thighs, they sneaked underneath her skirt, found the edges of her panties. She encouraged him with a breathy moan, and he pulled the panties down, letting them hang at her ankles. He kissed both of her nipples, licked them and nipped at them before one hand began massaging one of her breasts. The other hand stayed under her skirt, stroking the inside of her thighs, brushing lightly against her most sensitive of areas. He saw her bite her lip as her hand began to squeeze her other breast.

He used his thumb to stroke her clitoris, pushing a little harder at times, then switching to his fore- and middle fingers, flicking it quickly. She shuddered under him, sighed, gasped. Slowly, he slipped two fingers inside her, and he heard her give a small moan in response. He slid in and out, slowly at first, going in as far as he could. And then the hand grasping her breast grasped a little tighter, and his fingers moved faster. In and out they went, and her natural lubrication made it easier for him. As his fingers rushed in and out, his thumb found her clitoris again, and then he positioned his hand so that his palm slapped her sensitive spot every time his fingers went in. Faster and faster he went, and his fingers moved inside her. Her whole body trembled, and her breathing came sharply as she struggled to keep her heart from leaping out of her chest. Somewhere in the middle of this she had kicked her panties all the way off her legs. He heard her high squeals, saw the arching of her back, and the clenching of her eyes told him she was close, so close. But then he slowed, and pulled out of her, giving her clit a quick rub before he lifted both of her legs so one was over either of his shoulders.

She gave short gasps and moans, only wanting one thing, and they both knew it. He grabbed his dick, placed it against her wet, dripping pussy, and slid inside her. He let the bulk of him go in as far as he could, pulling a gleeful yelp out of her. Her legs were around his neck, and they were both breathing heavily. Grasping her thighs, he held her steady as he pulled his hips back, not quite pulling out of her, and then he thrust in and pulled back quickly, again and again, letting only a bit of him inside her at a time. She threw her hands over her head, grabbed the edge of the desk to keep herself steady. She nearly screamed from pleasure, squealing every time he thrust inside her. He was concentrating hard, watching her breasts jiggle and bounce in front of him. He saw the pleasure on her face and it drove him to go faster.

He plunged deeper into her, moving his hips faster and faster. Moans began to escape from his lips now, too, and he threw his head back from the feeling of his hard cock inside her. How often had he wished for this moment, imagined it, and it just was nothing compared to the real thing. But he wasn't done yet, no....

He pushed himself deep inside her one last time, and then pulled out, much to her displeasure. They had both been close that time, and she was running out of energy. Just a little more, he thought. He grabbed the back of her head, pressed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply, lustfully, as he pulled her to her feet. He gave her breasts a nice suck before turning her around, pressing her back against his chest. He pressed his dick between her legs and she gasped. His hands came around, found her breasts and massaged them firmly, desperately. God, he couldn't hold out much longer, and neither could she. She let her hand travel to her pussy, began to fondle herself, pressing her ass against his cock. Oh no, he thought, let me.

He licked his forefinger and middle finger, lifted her skirt, then slapped his fingers against her pussy, rubbing vigorously against her clit. She gave a cry and wrapped her arms around his neck while he began to suckle on her neck. She opened her legs and he held them open with one hand, thrust his fingers into her again with the other. She moved her hips, circling them around his throbbing cock. He wouldn't be able to take much more, so he pulled his fingers out of her and bent her over the desk. He lifted the skirt over her round ass, staring at it while she glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes desperate. One hand was at the small of her back, holding her down, while the other guided his cock to her eager pussy. He thrust into her again, slowly at first, and then picking up the pace as his hunger, his need, grew by the second. He was already so close to that crest, and seeing her there, bent over like that, taking all of him inside of her – it drove him wild. With his moans and sighs mingling with hers, he pounded her hard, his thighs slapping against her ass.

"Ah," she cried, "oh my god!" She barely got the words out, and with a scream of pure ecstasy, she came all over his big, hard cock. He couldn't stop, not yet. He thrust deep inside of her, again and again, fast and hard, and his cock was reaching that point. Just a little more, and he leaned over her, reaching around and grabbing one of her breasts tight as he bit into her shoulder. With one last hard thrust, he released his cum deep inside her. He held her tight against him, and as the semen spurted out, he pulled back slightly and back into her gently, ever so slowly to help his tingling cock along.

With a long, shuddering breath, he kissed the spot where he bit her, brushed some hair away from her neck and kissed her there as well. He pulled out of her, completely and utterly satisfied to get that out of his aching system. She was shaking, and he helped her to a standing position, turning her so she could face him.

She was weak, and her mind was still reeling from the fireworks that went off inside her. God, how had she lived without that for so long? And why did their lives have to be so complicated?

He cupped her face in his hands and looked her straight in the eyes. Her gaze was weary, and she wondered how she was still standing. She thought he might say something, but instead he just kissed her forehead tenderly, then handed her the clothes she'd shed, along with her glasses.

He turned from her, pulled up his boxers and then his pants. Finally getting her bearings, she began to put on her own clothes, her mind and her heart whirling with questions. She wished he would say something.

The truth was, he didn't know what to say. What happened was something he couldn't bring himself to regret, no matter the logic and reason that throbbed against his mind. He had liked it, and he wanted more of it. But how could he let her know that? Did he have any right to? He wanted it to be her decision, but at the same time she may not have been thinking as clearly as he would have liked. And so he was trapped. Tell her that it would never happen again, or ask her when she was next available? God, what kind of man had be become?

He buttoned up his shirt, then righted his desk and sat at it. The storm had long since passed, and he wasn't sure if that was drizzle he heard outside the window or not. Glancing over to her, he just caught sight of her bra as she pulled her shirt back on. She was beautiful, and he wanted her still. She finished dressing, had her glasses sitting on the crook of her nose, and she turned to look at him, expectant almost. She wanted him to say something, and he wanted to say something. He just didn't know what to say.