Assistant Teaching

My anthropology major required a Human Sexuality course, which I'd been putting off taking for two years. As a junior, it was time to buckle down and knock out the rest of the classes required for my major so I could relax while trying to find jobs next year. Honestly, I'd been dreading it because, no matter how hard I tried, I was still a virgin. I didn't think there was any shame in that -- who cares when or if you have sex, right? -- but entering sex-positive, open spaces still made me nervous. Not that I assumed Human Sexuality would be an orgy or something -- although it was Berkeley, after all -- but I at least figured there'd be frank talk about all sorts of things I'd never done.

I'd had girlfriends before. I knew that I was pretty, objectively, with full lips and wide green eyes and all the makeup skills I needed. And, not to toot my own horn too much, but I liked to think I was fun and easy to get along with. I didn't have much trouble getting dates. That wasn't the problem. Honestly, I'd brought a lot of my teenage baggage to college, and this was the first semester I'd really started to unpack that. Having been plus-sized my entire life, I used to be pretty ashamed of my body. Now, I could look in the mirror and admire my sloping hips, full stomach, and thick thighs. Letting someone else look at me with desire, though, was a new and frightening milestone.

On a Thursday night, the third week of classes, my grades app pinged and I opened it up, expecting my next 'A' to roll in. I had a 4.0 and, to be real, it wasn't hard for me to maintain. I'd always had a borderline photographic memory, so most testing and topics were easy for me to get my head around.

This essay had been different, though. We had to draw on our own values and opinions to reach conclusions, not just reiterate facts from scholars. I had opinions, yes, but that didn't mean it was easy for me to put them on the page as well as I could articulate arguments based on hard logic and research.

I shot off a quick email to the professor asking if we could go over it together. He wrote back a couple of hours later saying that he had office hours next week -- after our next paper was due -- or I could talk to the TA, Darcy, after any class. Class was tomorrow evening, which meant I wouldn't have to stew over the grade for another week. I was able to put it out of my head and get to sleep without too much worry.

-

The next day in class, I felt a strange mix of relief and nervousness as I watched the clock tick closer to the end of the lecture. When the professor dismissed us, I gathered my things slowly, trying to appear casual even though my heart was pounding. Darcy, the TA, had been introduced briefly at the beginning of the semester -- a grad student who was passionate about human sexuality and gender studies. I'd noticed her every week, of course, as she took notes from the front row or gave input on lectures. Everyone noticed her. It was impossible not to. She intimidated me, really, not because of how smart and motivated she was, but because she was gorgeous.

Darcy was Korean, mixed with something else I couldn't place, with tan skin, dark eyes, and round lips. Her cheeks were full and romantic. She kept her hair in a shaggy cut that framed her face, with pieces of glittery tinsel in different colors tied throughout. Tonight, she wore light-wash jeans rolled a few times at the bottom, a band tee tucked into the waistband, and a pair of chunky black boots. By contrast, I had on a sundress, my hair braided back, ready to meet some friends for dinner after our quick chat.

As students filed out, I hesitated for a moment, then approached the front of the room where Darcy was organizing some papers. She looked up, her smile just as bright and shiny as the accent strands in her hair. "Hi. Quinn, right?"

"Yeah. Quinn Schuyler," I began, my voice shakier than I expected. "I was wondering if I could chat with you about my essay? I could use some feedback."

"Definitely," she replied. "Just hang back for a second while I close out some shit for class."

I waited by the door while other students turned in late assignments to her, said goodbye, and left. When the last one had left, I met her back at the large desk at the front of the lecture hall.

"Go ahead and have a seat. Get comfortable." Darcy clicked through her laptop, pulling up my essay and skimming over it until she nodded. "Right, yeah. I remember reading this." She sighed and turned her computer so I could see the screen. "The thing is, Quinn, you're obviously a brilliant writer. I'm certain you'll have a successful career in research. But we want to see you dig deeper than that. This class exists to get you out of that research bubble and remind you of the authentic, emotional, complex side of anthropology. The part that's still going on today."

I let out a nervous laugh. "That's never been my strong suit."

"I can tell," she said with no judgment in her voice. She pointed to a particular paragraph. "See, right here, you start getting into how different cultural ideals about bodies play into the purity levels of a nation or group. But right before you actually offer a valuable opinion on the topic, right before you dig into the meat of the topic, you just rely on another quote from someone from the '50s. I think you know more about how diet culture impacts female sex lives today than any Freud or Jung, right?"

Chuckling a bit, looking down at my hands, I said, "I'm not so sure about that."

"What do you mean?" She turned the laptop back her way and scrolled through my past assignments. "Half your responses on here have to do with body image, the way we devalue based on weight and shape, that kind of stuff. You seem pretty knowledgeable on the topic."

"Yeah, that half I know all about."

"Ah, I see." Our eyes met, hers soft, warm, sympathetic. No judgment or pity in them. "I don't think you'd have any problem with the other half if you weren't so busy with your nose in the books."

Blush flamed into my cheeks. "You're probably right. It's just... new territory for me, I guess."

She placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "New can be intimidating, but there's no rush. You get to decide what feels right for you and when."

With a sigh, I told her, "It's just frustrating that when it finally does feel right, it's the semester I'm so busy I can't even make time for swiping on apps, much less holding a real conversation and getting a girlfriend."

"Well," Darcy broached gently, her eyes roving all over me, "do you feel like it has to be a girlfriend? Like, someone you're super connected to emotionally?"

"Definitely not." I laughed and tucked some hair behind my ear. "Honestly, I'd rather just get it over with so that it doesn't feel like a big deal anymore. Because it's not a big deal."

Darcy's face stayed still for a few pointed seconds. Then she looked up at me through long dark lashes in a way that made my chest blush. "I mean...I've thought you were cute all semester. I'd have absolutely no hangups about fucking you right now."

I laughed and rolled my eyes.

Then, she said, "I'm not joking, Quinn." I met her gaze and saw fire in it. She stood up, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of me. "Just say the word."

The entirety of the English language left my brain at that moment, looking up at this gorgeous, smart, empathetic woman and thinking of the preposterous idea that she might think of me as attractive. Every word except for one, which left my lips as little more than a breath: "Yes."

Darcy closed the space between us, pulling me to my feet. With one hand, she cupped the back of my head and kissed me. I'd been kissed before -- plenty of times -- but never like that. Never with urgent lips and teasing teeth and passionate tongue. In that kiss, I could tell that she hadn't been lying about thinking of me the past few weeks. Her lips explored mine with the fervor of a starving man holding perfectly ripened fruit.

Her fingers wrapped themselves in my hair and I didn't even give a shit that I'd have to redo my braid before leaving. She tugged my head to the side so that she could kiss my neck. Her lips were hot and urgent, a sharp contrast from the building that was cold from the setting sun and the air conditioning. She moved down from my neck to my collarbones as she held me tight to her, hands roving from the small of my back to my hips to my ass.

She held my hands in hers for a moment before saying, "Take my clothes off."

I stood there, frozen, for a few seconds. Then something clicked in my brain. Some fire sparked or some water poured over the edge of a glass or something deep and primal just came over me. Whatever you wanted to call it, my hands went straight to the buttons of her jeans as I kissed her hard again. I undid them quickly and tackled the zipper next. I helped her step out of them and then yanked her tee over her arms, shoulders, and head. I left them on the floor next to us, by her backpack, and admired her for a moment.

Her body was lean and long, but she still had dips at her hips and breasts that weren't supermodel perky. Her bra was unlined and sporty, bright blue, and her boy-short-cut underwear was the same. Despite my best intentions, my hands shook as I reached around her back and unhooked her bra. When it fell to the floor, I tried not to let my mouth hang open. I'd seen breasts before, obviously, but never in a context where I could just touch them.

So I did.

I traced my hand back around her ribs and took her breasts in my hands, kneading the nipples firmly but not too hard the way I sometimes did when I got myself off. Darcy's head tilted back and she sighed contentedly, which I knew was a sign to keep moving forward. I wrapped my lips around one of her nipples and sucked on it until her sigh became a breathy moan.

After a minute, though, she snapped upright and said, "I forgot where we were for a second there. She pulled back, held my face in one hand, and said, "I'm going to make you cum a couple of times and then we'll have to get out of here. Security does rounds a few times a night. That work for you?"

I swallowed, the taste of her skin lingering on my tongue. "Ah- I- yeah. Yeah, for sure."

"You're so cute," she chuckled.

Then, she undressed me, confident and certain but not hurried or uncaring, muttering something about security guards and locking up the building. The risk of getting naked in a classroom of all places, on a desk my professor sat behind every single week, made my cunt pulse with desire. The knowledge of that dripped a steady stream of adrenaline into my veins.

Of course, this was one of the few occasions where I hadn't worn anything cute, much less nice, underneath my clothes. Darcy didn't care, though. She saw my clothes as a nuisance, one more step between her and my naked body. Once I was naked, standing there for her like a statue tinged with blush pink, she took one of my breasts in each hand and said, "These are absolutely perfect, Quinn. Seriously."

I sucked in a deep, shaky breath and replied, "Thank you."

"For real," she sighed again, kissing the tops of them as her thumbs stroked over my nipples, sending warm waves through my body.

I always thought my breasts were strange compared to the ones I saw in movies and ads, even though I knew those were always airbrushed to all hell. Since I was plus-sized, they were large and pendulous, the areolas wide and the nipples nearly flat until I was either freezing cold or so horny I could barely move. Darcy's eyes were wild with hunger for them, though, and that refinished all the wires in my brain that said anything negative about my body.

Dropping down onto her knees in front of the desk, Darcy said, "Lean back so I can eat you out. You need to know how a girl should do it, and you should know how to ask for what you want. Don't be afraid to speak up."

I nodded, not quite able to form a coherent sentence yet. 'Thank you' had already been pushing it earlier. The fact that this was happening at all -- like, actually happening, not just in a wet dream or some internet porn -- made my head dizzy. Still, I leaned back on the desk, my ass at its very edge.

Darcy put a hand on each of my knees and slowly spread my legs apart like she was unwrapping a present she'd been waiting for her entire life. I could tell she wanted to slow down and savor me, but the time crunch made her dive between my legs greedily. I didn't mind in the slightest. My pussy was practically dripping onto my thighs and the desk from the way she handled me and looked at me.

The moment Darcy's tongue made contact with my clit, I gasped loud. I couldn't help myself; I was shocked that it felt nothing like touching myself. She chuckled against my cunt but kept at it, delivering a new sensation with every motion. Her tongue was soft and warm, less like a finger and more like a flower petal. Firm and slow, she ran her tongue up and down. On each downstroke, she reached down to my entrance, and every time she moved back up, she flicked my clit's hood out of the way to touch the bundle of hypersensitive nerves underneath. It was a delicious contrast that pushed and pulled, simmered and boiled, ebbed and flowed.

Her middle two fingers found the entrance to my cunt. I moaned at the thought, giving her an unspoken but definite permission. She pressed her fingers inside slowly, easing them into me, teasing out another few breaths and quivers. I had a collection of sex toys back in my apartment, but her fingers had a give and take they lacked. And an agency. She curled her fingers over and over until she found the place that made my legs clench up.

As she fingered me, Darcy made sure not to neglect my clit. Her tongue pulsed against my most sensitive place, unrelenting. She found a rhythm that brought her fingering and tonguing into a perfect tempo of opposite beats. Her fingers would curl and, as they untensed, my clit would throb against her tongue. The sway and shiver brought a warm, billowing pleasure through my legs. Starting at my toes, the orgasm shook through my thighs and tensed my abs until finally, finally, it took root in my cunt.

When I came, Darcy stayed between my legs, slowing her pace but not backing off. My toes curled up against the balls of my feet and my thighs clamped down around Darcy over and over again. My hips ground and rolled as she brought me from the peak of pleasure and back down into a sweaty, groaning, satisfied body.

But she wasn't finished.

Darcy dug around in her backpack and pulled out a purple strapon. At my wide eyes, Darcy laughed and said, "I was planning on going out dancing tonight. Never know when you're going to end up at the house of some pretty girl who wants to be railed."

When she winked at me while getting the toy into place, my whole body shivered like she was still edging me through an orgasm. Standing there stroking a fake cock, Darcy looked so dominant, so sure of herself, and so, so sexy. She came back to the desk and flipped me over it, her hands firm and her fingers digging into my hips.

Her breathy voice asked, "Want me to fuck you?"

My pussy still aching and needy, I replied without thinking about it for even a moment: "More than anything."

At that, the head of her fake cock found my sloppy wet entrance. My cunt had swollen and contracted hard, so every inch it filled me felt like a mile. When she was finally done pushing all the way down to the base of the toy, I felt my cunt responding naturally, clenching and begging for more. My cheeks were hot and red. Everything felt glowy.

Before she started to fuck me, Darcy spanked my ass hard, forcing a gasp from deep inside my lungs. I'd never had all that much interest in hypothetical spanking, but, in the real moment of it, the spark of pain only heightened my pleasure. Darcy began to fuck me slow, in and out, the ribbing of the strapon massaging the walls of my cunt as intentionally and insistent as her fingers had moments ago.

She spanked me again and then started to fuck me in earnest. The grinding of her own hips against the base of the toy caused her to breathe more heavily now. My ass turned red under her precise slaps and I found myself bucking back against her as my pussy got used to the cock and needed more of it. Between the two of us, we found a cadence that had me as full as I'd ever felt.

Still, she wasn't done with the new sensations. Darcy reached around my waist, mounting me like an animal, and ran her middle fingers to my clit, which was still sensitive and hot from how she'd taken care of me earlier. The added pleasure turned my moans from guttural and strong to breathy and high-pitched. Needy. Slutty. It felt so goddamn good to just be taken by her here in a place where she definitely shouldn't have been fucking me. I released into the flow of our bodies moving in sync, lost in how her fingernails stung and contrasted the sensitivity of her other fingers on my clit.

As I came again, this time bucking frantically, she purred, "That's it, just let go. Let go."

And I did.

I moaned loud enough that any security guards in the building wouldn't have to listen hard to hear if they were on top of their game. The sound echoed around the hall designed to amplify a single voice. With each of her final thrusts, a fresh wave surged through my entire body at once. It wasn't just an orgasm from my pussy; it was full-bodied and intense.

A loud thunk outside the door stopped both of us in our tracks as I reached the end of my orgasm, anyway.

"Shit, that'll be one of the security guards," Darcy laughed, not actually seeming that perturbed by the realization as she lazily thrust in and out of me. Finally, she pulled out, shimmied out of the harness, and offered me a hand. "Let's get you back in that pretty little dress you wore."

I sat up slowly, my head spinning and my cheeks flushed. "Wow. That was...whew."

Darcy gave me a mock curtsy before tugging her clothes back on. "It was an honor, Quinn."

I rolled my eyes. "Who's cute now?"

She picked my dress up off the ground and helped me get dressed again while I caught my breath. She kissed me softly, then, almost romantically, and said, "If you ever want to meet up again sometime, let me know. I'm sure I could teach you a thing or two. Getting yourself off is only half of it, right?"

I nodded as she tied the bow on the backside of the dress. "Yeah, that sounds...that sounds great. Really great."

She slapped my ass. "Good. That's what I like to hear."