Chapter Three: Covering new Ground

HE OVERSLEPT THAT WEDNESDAY. Which was why he didn’t realise someone was inside his office until it was too late. And, since he’d only had half a cup of coffee at that point, his reflexes were too slow.

Jason was already across the room and sinking into his chair when the door to his office swung shut with a quiet click. He jerked, furiously scanning the room until his eyes settled on Wine.

She leaned against the wall beside the door, one foot up behind her, stretching her skirt as far as the pleats would allow.

Had she been waiting just like that, hidden by the door until he’d walked inside? For how long? How had he not noticed the bubblegum-scented air when he’d entered?

“Good morning, professor,” she murmured in a throaty whisper.

“Wine.” Jason stood, moving so abruptly that he his leg crashed into the desk. His cup of coffee, already precariously close to the edge, wobbled and tipped over.

“Shit!” Jason sprang back, but a splash of scalding coffee caught him before he was out of reach.

“Ooh,” Wine murmured. “Does it hurt?”

“Fuck, yes, it fucking hurts—” he cut off the stream of obscenities, aware that he was in the presence of a girl who’d only recently come of legal drinking age.

A delicate hand appeared in his vision, holding a folded serviette. Jason watched, entranced, as Wine began dabbing at his jeans. The coffee had struck him right in the crotch, spreading an embarrassing stain all across the front of his pants.

Right then, it could have been nuclear fallout for all he cared.

The tremors of her touch spread over the thick fabric, seeming to vibrate along the entire length of his penis.

He had to tell her stop. His door was unlocked. Anyone — Samantha — could walk in. How could he explain this?

Jason forced his eyes up, expecting to see the top of Wine’s head, perhaps bowed to her task. But she stared at him, brilliant green eyes hooded and a sultry smile on her mouth. She’d worn lipstick today; raspberry red and shimmery. Long eyelashes fluttered at him as she dropped the serviette and ran her fingernail along the straining dune of his cock instead.

It was just like what he’d done to her in his day dream: teasing flesh through fabric. The rasp of her pink nails tore into him more than the touch.

As was usual within five seconds of seeing her, his cock had gone rock hard. It was the fiercest he’d seen it; lifting a massive ridge of fabric that reached for Wine’s mouth as hungrily as it had for her cunt when she was twenty feet away spreading her thighs for him.

“You’ll need to get out of those,” Wine said.

The girl tugged at his buckle.

“I can’t—” Jason began.

But she’d already undone his belt. Her hand disappeared behind his boxers, cool where the coffee had scorched him. Soft fingertips touched his shaft. She freed his dick from its prison before he’d even accepted the fact that she had her hands in his fucking pants.

“Wine,” he tried a last time, but it was less of a plea and more of a moan.

“I know,” she murmured. “I know.”

She turned him until his ass rested on the edge of the desk and tugged his pants down. Wine sank to her knees. She trailed her hands up his legs, purposefully avoiding contact with his dick as she knelt in front of him.

Today, her outfit had obviously been chosen with care: a tiny, pink tank top that forced her tits together and gave him a fantastic view of her cleavage, a flirty little cheerleader skirt like the one she’d worn the first time he’d seen her, and a pair of striped pink socks that almost reached the hem of her barely-decent skirt. Her blond hair hung loose, framing the flawless oval of her face.

He ran his fingers through those silken strands, his hand falling away as she wrapped her fingers around his cock and pumped him once, twice; hard and fast as if she intended to jerk him off right then and there.

He shoved his fist against his mouth, all too aware that less than five feet away, faculty members were crossing the hallway on their mysterious early-morning errands.

Wine released him. Her hands skated over his skin. She grabbed onto his waist. Her luminous eyes shone as she gazed up at him shyly.

“Do you want me to suck your dick, professor?” she asked in a husky voice that was nowhere near to a whisper.

“Sssh,” Jason hissed. He reached out to touch her, but his hand was trembling so much that he tore it away and gripped the edge of the desk behind him. “Someone will hear you.”

“Who?” Wine asked.

She leaned forward and stuck out her tongue. It was small and pointed, as pink as the bubblegum she chewed. Its tip touched his cock, right where the crown met the shaft. It shuddered. Jason groaned as softly as he could.

“Will Samantha hear us?” Wine asked, tongue back in her mouth again. She smiled up at him and popped a bubble with a loud crack. “What will you do if Sam comes in here while I’m sucking your dick?”

“You can’t…” Jason began, not sure where the hell the sentence was intended to go.

Wine dug her fingernails into the small of his back and sat up, pushing her tits out. She breathed on his cock as if she was trying to warm it up in the middle of winter. Jason trembled, already feeling his balls tightening. Dear God, let him at least last longer than a fucking minute under this torture.

She touched her mouth to the side of his shaft, kissing him so softly he almost thought he was imagining it. Then her tongue touched the tip of his dick again, pressed into the tiny slit on its crown.

His fist was against his mouth again.

“You could ask her to join us,” Wine was saying. Who? What the hell was this girl talking about? “Samantha,” Wine added, as if reading his mind.

“Join us?” Jason asked, hating the way his voice quavered.

Unbidden, his mind sped to the last image he had of Samantha. Of her walking up the stairs of the auditorium, slow motion, her perfect ass and the rest of her curvy body silhouetted against the light outside as she pushed open the door.

“We could take turns giving you head.” Wine wrapped both her hands around Jason’s cock again, massaging his balls with her fingertips. She ran the tip of her tongue up his shaft, starting from his balls, tracing a sinuous route that slowed the closer she came to reaching his crown.

Then, without only a small gasp as warning, Wine slid her lips over the tip of his cock and sucked him for a nanosecond. She drew back, releasing his dick with a soft pop. Wine giggled at that, and Jason groaned again, stifling the noise with that same fist. Her soft laugh reached right inside him and pressed every goddamn button he ever had or ever would possess.

Again, Wine ducked her head forward, her hair sliding around her shoulders as she took in even more of him.

Her mouth was as hot as the coffee had been, but wetter. Her tongue undulated against the bottom of his shaft, its tip flicking left, then right. Both her hands were still wrapped around his dick. She began rubbing him out with the tip of his cock inside her small, hot mouth. Her pink lips formed a perfect ‘0’ around his cock, the bubblegum-flavoured juices of her mouth glistening wetly along his erection.

It was as if the girl was patiently waiting for him to ram his dick as deep inside her throat as it would go and cum down the back of her throat.

Jason grabbed a fistful of her hair, holding her steady as he forced himself deeper inside the scorching confines of her mouth. She tightened her hands around his dick. Her lips slammed into her fingers, preventing him exploring any more of her sweet, slippery mouth. He groaned, unable to stifle the noise because he had both hands in her hair and was trying, trying so hard to shove his cock deeper.

She was so hot. So wet. So fucking tight and slick.

Her tits jiggled as he drew out his dick and thrust it into her again, fucking her mouth like he would if it was her pussy.

Wine tensed, perhaps sensing that he was close to the edge.

Her fingers glided over his sac. She touched the skin between his dick and his sphincter, rubbing it, applying the lightest pressure.

Every muscle in Jason’s body stiffened.

He cried out softly and clutched Wine’s hair in a fist. As he came, the girl tugged on his dick and slid almost half of it inside her mouth.

Heat seared through Jason. He came violently into the back of the cheerleader’s throat, feeling the tip of his penis touching the roof of her mouth as he did. Her tongue folded around the bottom of his shaft and caressed it as his dick pulsed and throbbed, greedily sucking at everything he spurted into her.

She drew his cock out, gently, slowly, while he spasmed, her fingertips dancing over his shaft. She kissed him, took his penis and guided it back inside his jeans as she dragged them up over his legs. Wine ran her thumb and forefinger down either side of her mouth, wiping at the milky cum rimming her lips. She sucked the last bit of him off her finger, and grinned at him around her pink nail.

Jason’s legs trembled. He managed to fasten his buckle with a shaking hand.

“That was…”

Wine shook her head fiercely. Her expression turned serious as she slid her hands under his shirt and pressed herself up against him. Her breasts were firm, her erect nipples grazing his skin.

“It still is,” she whispered. “I’ll see you soon, professor.”

And then she was gone like before: as if she’d never been here at all.

But his throbbing dick was all the proof he needed that she had been here, that he’d been here, right in her sweet, moist little mouth.

Jason let out a long breath and slid into his chair, staring at the ceiling as he waited for his heart to stop hammering against his rib cage.

Jason was marking term papers left behind by his predecessor when Samantha slipped into the auditorium. After Wine’s performance that morning, he couldn’t be in his office without getting a hard on. If he wanted to get any work done, then he’d have to do it here or at home.

He heard the door swing open.

Was it Wine? Had she come back for more?

His hand tightened around his pen. He glanced up, shoulders tight with anticipation. Dick already starting to stir. Heart rate accelerating.

Then he recognised Samantha’s silhouette. She was making her careful way down the stairs; he’d left the lights off again and the only light was a small circle of illumination cast by the stand lamp on his desk.

Samantha wore a yellow full-length dress today; one of those that were cinched below the breasts and loose everywhere else. He’d never thought they were in the least bit flattering until he saw her in it.

“Jason,” Samantha called, giving him a small wave in greeting. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, Sam. Uh, Samantha.”

The woman smiled at him. “Sam is fine.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s about Saturday.” She shrugged. “I hate to do this to you, but—”

“Saturday?” Jason set down his pen and frowned at her. “I don’t follow.”

Samantha drew to a halt at the edge of his podium. His lamp made Sam’s pale dress glow. She wore her auburn hair up in a bun at the back of her head, but ringlets had escaped their tight prison and framed her face. She had a wide, luscious mouth, free of any lipstick.

“Bowling?” A faint blush stained her cheeks. “I told you about it yesterday, when you were—”

“Oh, yes.” Jason shook his head. “I’m sorry, my head is in the clouds. It’s these damned papers.”

Sam glanced at his table and nodded in sympathy. “Don’t I know it,” she said with a laugh. “Um… may I?” She gestured toward the desk.

Unsure of what she wanted to do, Jason just nodded. Sam twisted and slid her ass onto the edge of his desk, drawing her right leg partly onto its surface. Jason stared at her for a second and then rushed to his feet.

“Sam, please, take my seat.”

“No, this is fine.” She waved him away and began running the strap of her dress through her fingertips. “This is a bit awkward, so I’m not sure…” she trailed off and grimaced slightly at him.

Jason’s heart began to accelerate.

What was she trying to say? Was it about him and Wine? About what happened this morning? Did she know about it? Had she walked past and heard something? Fuck, she could have walked in and he wouldn’t have known it, near the end.

And of course, even just fucking thinking about Wine gave him a hard on. Jason squirmed in his chair, blinking furiously in an attempt to focus on Sam’s face.

This had to stop. He couldn’t even carry on a conversation with a colleague without Wine’s wide green eyes and her raspberry lips sliding into his mind. Sliding over his dick—

“…so I don’t know if that’s possible, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind. You’re so quiet. Jason? Will it be a problem? Jason?”

He snapped out of the vivid reverie of Wine’s mouth around his cock and stared at Sam, hurriedly replaying what she’d said. He’d missed too much of it.

“I’m sorry, Sam. Could you repeat that?”

Samantha brought a fist to her mouth and gently cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t be asking—”

“No, please. I would love to help you in any way I can.”

“Oh… well…” She washed her hands in her lap, looking away from him. “My car’s going to be in the shop this weekend — perfect timing, right? — and I was wondering if you could possibly—”

“You want a lift?” Jason interrupted, voice dripping with relief. “Sure, Sam. Of course. No problem at all.”

“It would just be on the way back. Terrence — he’s the English teacher — he lives up the road from me. He can bring me, but he’s leaving early and—”

Jason lifted his hand. “Sam, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Your… family won’t mind? Your wife, I mean?”

“Oh.” It was Jason’s turn to look away. “I’m divorced. Although, if Kate knew, she would definitely mind.”

When Jason looked up at Sam, her eyes were wide. She shook her head at him, as if unsure of what to make of his statement.

“She’s a real piece of work,” Jason added.

Sam broke into a relieved smile. It really did something to her when she smiled; her brown eyes sparkled, and a tiny dimple appeared in her cheek.

“Thank you.”

Sam smoothed her dress over her thigh, one hand lifting to toy with a shoulder strap. Jason could see a hint of muscle beneath the thin fabric. And then he thought of Wine’s long legs, that first day when she’d lifted her skirt without knowing he was there.

Or perhaps knowing all along.

He watched Sam run her hand back up the top of her thigh and absently adjust the line of her underwear through her dress. Did she wear french-cut panties like Wine? Or a thong? No, she looked like a boyleg-type of girl.

As if he was an expert in these matters.

Jason shook his head.

“I owe you,” Sam said.

Jason looked back up at her. Luckily, she was looking down at herself and not at him. He doubted she would let him drive her anywhere if she caught him checking her out a second time. Or if she could see the bulge in his jeans right now.

“Not at all.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses with a furtive knuckle. “I’m kind of looking forward to it.”

“You are?” Sam cocked an eyebrow at him. “Bowling? With a bunch of teachers?”

“You forget,” Jason said. “I’m one of you.”

Samantha laughed. She hopped off the table and clasped her hands together in front of her.

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“See you around,” she said, and started up the stairs.

Jason ran a hand through his hair.

“Fuck, I hope not,” he whispered to himself. “You have a habit of turning up in the wrong place at just the wrong time, Sam.”

Wine didn’t show up for class for the rest of the week. It seemed — when he’d dragged up enough courage to ask — that the cheerleader rarely made an appearance at the university.

Despite this, she had rather good grades. Maybe chemistry wasn’t that hard for her, after all.

Just professors.

He wondered if she’d plied her wares with any of the other male faculty. That led to a horde of dark thoughts about Wine at the end of the chancellor’s dick and he hastily ended that line of questioning before he could lose his lunch.

By Friday, he’d almost managed to wipe the young student and her pleated skirt from his mind.

But then he had a moment of weakness that night.

Having looked her up in the university’s records earlier that week, worried that she might be dead or kidnapped, he’d put her cellphone number into his phone.

Sitting alone in his apartment on Friday night, with nothing to watch because he was still waiting for his cable to be connected, Jason kept unlocking his phone every few minutes. He would open his contact and stare at Wine’s phone number.

He’d saved her number under ‘W’, which should have been a massive, blaring warning that whatever he was considering he most definitely shouldn’t be fucking considering.

Flashes of the epic blowjob she’d given him on Wednesday kept returning, but the memory itself was fading fast.

He’d had whiskey again that night, glass after glass, until the phone’s screen was a blur. But her initial was always easily recognisable.

Despite every atom of his being screaming at him not to, Jason sent the cheerleader a text.

You okay?

Didn’t see you in class today.

If you want to talk, I’m at—

And then he’d paused. If he put his address in and anyone ever found her phone — or his — he would be fired. No two-ways about it.

But he’d typed in his address anyway, thumb moving almost automatically as he pictured Wine’s breasts, squeezed so tight in that pink tank top, a shade that perfectly matched her rosy lips. He’d shuddered, remembering how she’d teased the tip of his cock with her tongue. How she’d teased him, from the moment she first saw him.

Wine never replied to his message.

In a way, Jason was glad. He didn’t regret what had happened, but the time he’d had away from her had brought clarity. He couldn’t do anything with her again, not if he wanted to keep his job. Not if he wanted to keep his self-respect.

It was simple: he couldn’t bang the cheerleader. No matter how fucking badly she wanted it.