Naked and in my own bed, my mind wandering, my fingers exploring; I was imagining Mom. Images filled my imagination and very real feelings flowed through my senses.
My consciousness seemed to focus on one fantasy. We were at Rachel's pool; we were alone, just Mom and me.
"It was dark outside, the air was warm, Mom was wearing a small black bikini, I was wearing my tiny white one. Soft music filled the background. It seemed so real, I could even sense her favorite perfume, wildflowers, and just a touch of spices.
For the longest time I never noticed any conversation until she spoke in a soft, very quiet voice, "If I didn't know better, I would say this is very romantic and that you were planning to seduce me." There was a slight nervousness in her voice, but I could also detect subtle excitement as well.
"What makes you think that's not what I'm doing," I smiled using my most sexy voice.
I took her hand and pulled her towards me. We were virtually the same height and size, she could be my sister, even though there were just a little more than twenty years between us. Only inches apart, my arms around her waist, our bikini bottoms touching, and our boobs pressed against one another. She didn't protest or pull away.
I may have looked confident, but my heart was in my throat and I was surprised she couldn't hear it beating. I leaned towards her and our lips met, A jolt of electricity surged through us both, her moist lips touched and moved against mine, she tasted like strawberries, my tongue parted her lips, paused, and then boldly explored her mouth.
She melted against me, going for broke, I slipped my fingers down her firm tummy and into her bikini bottoms, rubbing her little shaved box, she was soaked ... our lips came together again, and I wondered how I tasted to her. Her tongue explored my lips and her fingers moved up, down, and around my body. Darkness slowly invaded my world as my body and hers came together even more."
Before I knew it, my alarm went off, the early morning breeze dissipated the sweet scent of arousal, and my sheets were soaked, again. A little groggily, I could hear her voice and two knocks on the door to wake me. I smiled and thought to myself, "Wow, if I could just make that dream a reality," taking a few extra minutes, I slipped my fingers into myself and let my eyes roll up into my head as I let the small tremors of a tiny orgasm ripple through the start of my day.
"Madison, Madison," a deep voice broke through my first dream and apparently into my second one as well. The sound of paper rustling and people starting to rise from their lecture seats made me realize with a start, that both had been dreams and I was actually in a lecture hall. I heard a few snickers and felt some disapproving eyes on me and some curious ones too.
"Madison, will you please see me after class for a few minutes?" the deep voice more commanded than asked.
"Fuck," I said quietly to myself, although I knew that getting caught was always a risk. I remembered with a smile the first time I had masturbated in class; it had been a darkened lecture hall during a particularly boring presentation and it had just been too tempting. I had worn a short skirt with no panties and it had been really intense. I had managed to stifle my whimpering and it made the class so much more exciting.
I managed to get away with it at least a dozen times before the first time I got caught, I had received a stern lecture from an older female professor after class which was followed by a glass or several of wine later that night and a sleepover at her house. She encouraged me from then on when I felt the need to make myself cum, to visit her office for a private meeting. Since then, we had three or four private counselling sessions a month.
Sometimes my classmates would catch me, none ever complained, and I am sure I ended up on several cell phone video clips, but not only could I not help myself, but each time I did it the orgasms were absolutely incredible and now I was doing it sometimes even without thinking about.
Still, I knew this professor had a reputation for being "no-nonsense," and a couple of the students around me whispered to me that I was in deep shit.
I knew before I even went to stand up that my crotch would be wet. Pantiless like most days the seam of my dark blue jeans rose deliciously between my thighs, pushing hard against my pussy and leaving a very sexy impression of my sex for anyone to see. Professor Stanley was waiting by the front of the class, surrounded by three or four students, one of them smiled at me, knowing full well why I was in trouble. David looked up at me from several rows away, smiled as well, shook his head, and headed for lunch.
Mr. Stanley, Ken, was in his late fifties, in very good shape, muscular with short-cropped gray hair. We had met in the student bar in my first year, he was older, sexy, and despite being married, he had fucked me in his Volvo in the bar parking lot that night and more or less regularly since then.
"Was the lecture a little dry Madison?" Mr. Stanley asked me after the last of the other students left us alone in the large hall.
"A little," I said quietly as he walked to the door and locked it from the inside.
"Maddy," this isn't the first time we have had to talk about you masturbating in class, your classmates might not all know what you are doing, but when I see five or six students watching you with your eyes closed, I know they aren't listening to me, hell I have a hard enough time paying attention to me when you close your eyes in class."
"Sorry, Mr. Stanley,"
"Ken, you know better, when we're alone, I am Ken," he said softer.
"Ken," I said and walked closer to him and I kissed him on the lips. He didn't try to push me away, he kissed me hard on the lips in return, his tongue parted my lips and I felt his hands moving everywhere at once.
"I was hoping we might have a little study time together today," he said quietly and used one hand to stroke my cheek. He kissed me again and I felt his hands moving down my body.
Inhaling, I felt his large hand between my legs, despite being a professor and an academic, he had big, powerful, and thick calloused hands like a bricklayer. He almost lifted me off the floor as I moaned softly in response to his fingers.
"Good girl, nice and wet," as his index finger slid up and back and forth in the indention in my tight jeans.
"No panties?"
"No sir."
"Strip for me Madison, take everything off, I want to see you naked."
Again, not a request.