Professor Draper walked into Larry's apartment with a completely different attitude to last time. She was more her old self, assured and defiant, ready to inform him this must stop. He wasn't in the room waiting for her as expected.
She looked around examining the room seeing it in a different light. The focus of the whole space concentrated on the computer table loaded with equipment and that ominous chair a focal point.
This is where he worked and experimented and played games. He was a typical nerdy student concentrating on what interested him, still young enough to ignore the responsibilities of life.
He had made her into a game for him to play with, taking over her body, flooding her mind with pleasure. He brought a youthful passion to the game and she had thankfully felt it, enjoyed it. Even now she could feel his vibrancy and sincerity, knowing it would be missed. It was difficult accepting the loss of her husband and Larry had for a short while helped with those dreadful feelings.
Now she was feeling them over him but of course there was little history and it had been induced rather than grown over years. She would cope for wasn't she known as the bitch professor on campus?
Emotional appeals didn't work with her as students found and regretted, over late essays or failed exams. Second chances only came from logical plans of action not emotive appeals for clemency.
He walked in seeing Professor Draper with hands on hips scanning the room as though looking for a mistake and knew not to call her Anne. He sheepishly brought a bunch of flowers from behind his back pushing them at her so she had to accept them. Not very elegantly presented but then she hadn't accepted them with courteously either.
"I'm sorry, didn't want to cause you harm or upset you. I promise not to tell anyone anything. Don't ask me to forget though. This has been a most wonderful time, getting to know you," he crawled to a stop, wondering how to explain what he felt yet not knowing what it was.
"You know it was madness and has to stop!" she firmly told him. She watched him nod his head with a sad look across his face and in his eyes. A young man having such an opportunity might crow about it to friends but she knew he meant it. She knew enough about this young man to feel he was sincere.
"You look nice. You've got yourself together, I'm pleased. You look like the, err, professor again," he commented.
"Just clothes, underneath I'm, I'm," she was about to say she was the same woman underneath but something else spilled out. "I'm wearing stockings," she said. Embarrassed over this mad outburst she moved across the room to stand away from him with hands gripping the back of an old sofa.
The persona of Professor Draper had walked in but was fading so she had to take a moment to bring her thoughts under control. Was Anne any better or worse than that harridan? Wasn't she entitled to have a moment of madness between semesters?
She collapsed over the back of the sofa as though fainting away from an assault on her senses. Not saying a word she pulled up the back of the skirt wiggling her bottom as it slipped up her legs.
"This is all wrong, I mustn't do this," she murmured to herself.
Larry watched her shapely legs revealed up to thin thighs, seeing for the first time stocking tops and suspenders gripping them tight. The sensible business skirt was finally hiked up around her hips. He could see now why a woman would wear these old fashioned contraptions.
Her cute shapely ass was presented to him framed delicately by the lace of the suspender belt and scroll work of stocking tops. The black contrasted with white soft thighs that seemed to beg to be stroked and caressed. The black panties stretched over a curved bottom, were slightly see-through and all the more tantalizing just for being there.
The only thing that moved was his eyes, roving over her rear and his cock pushing at his jeans. He was mesmerized by the beauty of this woman that had created a work of art with her body. He could not move, could not speak, unable to break the enchantment.
She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. "Please," she said. Her voice broke under a rising passion making speech difficult. "I've been a naughty girl, my lover, spank me," she croaked from a dry throat. Her eyes alone pleaded for attention with a crotch, bottom, and thighs exposed for his lust filled eyes.
She pushed out her gorgeous ass toward him inviting a naughty act. Maybe she was still under the influence of the program, still infatuated with him from being brainwashed but she didn't care. At that moment neither did he.
From nowhere came an aggression firing his mood. He may have been angry with her for dumping him or teasing him, tying his emotions in knots. He ripped the panties down from the soft cheeks and slapped them hard.
"You are a bitch! You're a tease," he shouted, but had nothing else to say. It was time for a different action. He pulled her legs apart, knocked at a shoe with his foot separating the legs more. Pushing her head down with one hand he bent her right over the sofa then ripped the front of his jeans down with the free hand.
His cock was rock hard throbbing in anticipation of the warm tight tunnel it needed to burrow into.
Anne tried to turn her head to him, to apologize, feeling sorry that she had strung him along, hadn't meant to and shouldn't even be here at all.
Larry thrust forward urgently needing to enter the enticing hole, being driven with animal lust. Both hands gripped her hips as he entered the tight tunnel. She tried to rise up, trying to say something. He slapped her ass making her slump over the sofa, defeated from a last attempt at escape.
Over her shoulder she tried to tell him to let her go. She was a college professor, someone to be respected not a thing to be bent over a sofa and roughly fucked. She was a woman with a need and instead told him. "Fuck me, fuck me harder, punish my teasing cunt, push harder," she choked, as though he had buried himself so deep in her throat.
"Punish your teasing bitch," she cried out with every slap of her ass while he rode her hard.
He only half heard the plea, yet the tone of voice spurred him on to fuck her roughly, penetrating as deep as he could, as hard as his strong legs could push. He thrust deep into her body wanting to bury him-self there while spurting beads of sperm, feeling her muscles spasm too.
She fell over into the sofa where eventually he joined her. He wrapped his arms around her brushing her sweat soaked hair out of her eyes. They stared at each other intensely.
"Fuck!" he exclaimed quietly.
"Fuck!" she exclaimed back in a whisper.
"You punished your bitch good," she added. She wasn't trying to sound like a young student but was breathing heavily so the sentences came out in shorthand.
"Not enough! The teasing bitch needs punishing again," he said. "Are you my bitch?" he asked.
She looked coy and embarrassed then swallowed, trying to regain the determination of before, only it was twisted the other way. "Yes! I'm your bitch. Whatever you want my love. I'm your devoted little bitch, always ready for you, your naughty little bitch," she said, with absolute sincerity.
***
At home Anne was waiting for her daughter to turn up. Each time they had talked about her father she had clammed up, unwilling to share feelings; like most adolescents she couldn't talk to a parent. Before Anne took this next step they would have to talk it through. Anne had at least that much control over her actions.
