Forbidden (short steamy romance) Read online

  Elly agreed to the date. Easy score. Not as difficult as some of the others, but far more timid, far more suggestible. Afterwards he began to wonder just what they could get up to when they were alone, just how he could mould and sculpt such a suggestible mind. He liked them young and easy, but she seemed like the youngest and easiest yet.

  3

  She dressed casually, spent time on her makeup and hair. She wore a loose sweater, rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of black leggings, she wanted to look like she wasn’t trying whilst trying her best to look good.

  Kitson lived a mile or two off campus, she took the bus, watching the grey evening turn to black on the short journey. He lived in a compact two bedroom house. Nothing big, nothing grand, but it was in a nice part of town, an expensive neighborhood. The house had probably cost the same as her parents’ five bedroom house on the outskirts of the city.

  She wasn’t feeling nervous, was comfortable when she knocked on the door and waited. He opened the door, ushered an orange warmth outside. She could feel the heat from the house, could hear soft classical music in the background, could smell the scents of freshly cooked food. He held a wine glass in his hand, the red liquid sloshing around as he moved forward to kiss her, a peck on each cheek.

  He ushered her into the living room, offered her a glass of the wine. It looked expensive, the neck of the bottle appeared dusty, as if it had been in storage for a while. The rest of the bottle had been wrapped in a napkin, like they did at fancy restaurants.

  “I opened this specially for you,” he told her, confirming her suspicions. “I picked this up a number of years ago in France. Very tasty, very rare,” he turned to grin proudly at her as he poured, careful not to spill a drop.

  She sipped it, gave his expectant stare a smile. It just tasted like any old wine to her, she wasn’t an expert; wine was wine.

  “I know I said it’d just be a few drinks, but I cooked a little food if you’re feeling hungry.”

  She nodded. She hadn’t eaten since lunch.

  The meal was perfect. She hadn’t eaten Thai food that good in a long time. Hadn’t really eaten any food that good in a long time. She had lived on a cheap student diet for a while and couldn’t get enough of the food he offered.

  Afterwards they had some more wine, then he offered her the whiskey -- twenty year old scotch. She wasn’t a big whiskey fan but she was nicely lubricated by then and happy to try it. It burned her throat, felt very harsh, but instantly warmed her up. It also loosened her up, she spoke more freely, laughing, giggling, joking. Before long she was all over him.

  She put his hand on his thigh at first, softly clenching and unclenching her fingers, feeling the tightness of his muscle through the tautness of his jeans. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he talked, explaining something about philosophy or literature, she wasn’t sure. She was drunk by then, her mind filled with carnal thoughts, unable to think of anything else as she watched his lips mouth, saw the slight wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and mouth when he smiled, felt the warmth of his leg in her palm.

  He was still talking when she moved her other hand around, putting it on his crotch. He didn’t flinch, continued talking. She felt the bulge there, felt it growing as she applied pressure with her palm and her fingers, enjoying the way it felt as it grew beneath her touch. She unclasped his belt with one hand, a quick and skillful maneuver, then she pulled down his zipper, stuck her hand inside.

  He was semi-erect, his penis already quite large from what she could gather. It was thick and long, she could only imagine what it could do to her, the heights of ecstasy that it could take her to.

  She slipped her fingers beneath the waist of his boxer shorts, keeping her stare locked to his all the while, noting the wry smile that curled the corner of his lips when he felt her nails brush his smooth foreskin, which was retreating down the shaft as his cock grew fully erect.

  She slowly wrapped her hand around it, enjoyed the way it felt in her palm, the way it twitched and pulsed, the heat of it as the blood coursed through. She pulled it down, stretching the skin down until the knuckles on her closed fist touched his scrotum. He stopped talking, seemed lost for words as she worked her hand up and down.

  She kissed him, immediately sticking her tongue into his mouth, tasting the numbing whiskey on his lips and his tongue. He put a hand behind her head, pressed her closer. He lifted his hips upwards, gave her more room to maneuver.

  She let go of his cock, moved her hand upwards, through the thin line of hair that ran from his pubic area, up his stomach and to his chest where it flourished. She ran her fingers through it, ran them over his nipple, over the light contours of his pectorals and down to his waist.

  He turned sideways then, moved closer to her, wrapped his left arm around her and kept his right on her head. She felt his exposed erection digging into her as he neared, felt it pressing against her thigh.

  He moved on top of her, lifted his kiss away, looked lovingly into her eyes. He slowly bit her bottom clip, gave her a smile and then slid down. He started on her breasts, lifting her jumper up and over her head before caressing and kissing her breasts. He cupped one, rubbed the nipple with his thumb whilst kissing the other, flicking the nipple with his tongue, working it expertly until she squirmed, moaned, felt him taking her where she wanted to go before he’d even entered her.

  He moved further down, kissed the soft flesh above her pussy. He pulled her leggings down, lifting her legs up so he could remove them entirely before throwing them across the room. He kept her right leg in the air, holding it in his grasp. He kissed her foot, kissed each toe, running his tongue through the gaps. Then he kissed her calf, ran his tongue up the smooth flesh, to her knee, her thigh, and then to her pussy. She was wet by then, her head back hard against the pillow, her eyes closed to feel him more.

  He put his head between her legs, kissed the moist flesh of her vagina, ran his fingers over it, pushing them in slightly to tease her, to test her. He bit the lips, a gentle, careful action, then tasted her clit with his tongue, softly at first, until she squirmed in a dire desperation, at which point he picked up the pace, using the same expert technique that he had used on her nipple, flicking her clit until she kicked out, until she screamed, until she forced his head deep inside her. He used his fingers as well, putting two of them inside her, working them quickly in and out as his tongue continued to excite her.

  He pulled out before she came, gave her a sly smile as he climbed back on top of her. He kissed her deeply. She could taste herself, could smell herself on his breath.

  She was delirious by the time he entered her, it didn’t take more than a few deep thrusts for her to climax. She dug her fingers into his back, let the screams and the moans rush out of her in. He continued to fuck her, heightening her orgasm, grunting as he drove into her.

  She felt herself coming again, moved her hands to his buttocks to press him deeper, to let him know that she didn’t want him to stop, even though she felt he was near to finishing. He came, she felt him release, felt him fill her up, felt his ass cheeks clench tightly. She pressed him deeper, she was so close. She moved her hips back, forward, back, forward, eager for more. He sensed her need, gave her a few more thrusts, his cock sliding on his own fluid. She came again, screamed louder than before, shook underneath him.

  He sighed, groaned pleasurably and then rolled off her, leaving her naked, facing the ceiling with a wide grin on her face.

  ***

  Kitson had gone all out to impress. He knew how the minds of these students worked. They liked class, sophistication. He dug out an old classical CD, a compilation that had come free with one of the Sunday papers years ago. He hated classical music, preferred blues or rock, but he could tolerate classical more than jazz, and when it came to feigning sophistication and setting the mood, only one of those two would do.

  He threw some spices, a couple of carrots, a mashed onion and some garlic gloves into a pan and tossed it in the oven. He didn’t like
cooking, couldn’t really make anything beyond beans on toast, and even then he tended to get it wrong. The mix of root vegetables and spice would create the desired smell, when she arrived, when he heard the doorbell go, he would turn the oven down and stick in the Thai food he had bought from the local takeaway. He had already plated it up and disposed of the cartons, she wouldn’t know any different.

  He dug out a cheap bottle of red wine that had been sitting in the cupboard for a few weeks gathering dust. He was more of a beer drinking, enjoyed the occasional whiskey. He hated wine, especially red, but thats where the pretense was, that’s what the students liked to drink with him, as if it made them look or feel dignified.

  The bottle was sufficiently dusty around the neck, incase she paid attempt to that sort of thing and thought it had been in a cellar for decades. He wrapped a handkerchief around the shaft to cover the label, tied it into a fancy bow. She wouldn’t know any different.

  By the time she showed up he’d an hour thinking about sex and was ready to take her on the doorstep. He kept his cool though, tried to banish those thoughts -- he didn’t want an embarrassing bulge making an appearance before dinner. She took it all in, drank in the fakery like he knew she would. She loved the dinner, the wine and his house.

  After the dinner, when she was tipsy and he knew she was a few units of alcohol away from climbing all over him, he gave her some cheap whiskey. He had told the truth, he did have a bottle of twenty year old scotch, but he didn’t want to waste any on her. He had paid a lot of money for it, it probably worked out to about twenty quid a shot and, considering she wouldn’t know the difference between that and the dirt-cheap stuff, he gave her a glass of the cheapest stuff he had.

  That tipped her over the edge. He snuggled up close, chatted about everything and nothing. Before long she was playing with his cock. He made his move, stripped her naked, played with her pussy to get her in the mood and then fucked her.

  She came twice, he counted. He was pleased with that, she had something she could tell her friends about and, if she did, he might be able to find his way into the beds of more of his students.

  He grinned when he rolled off of her. That was it for Elly. After he showed her out and paid for her taxi home, he doubted he would see her again, not at his home anyway. She was still his student, he would still teach her, it would also make sense to pretend like he was still interested, like he might consider fucking her again -- which, if he was desperate, was always an option. He kept a few of his former lovers on speed-dial incase a moment of loneliness arose -- but he could move on now. Onto someone new.

  He was already thinking about the blonde girl, the one with the tight body. She clearly liked him. She wasn’t as pliable as Elly, but she had a better body, would probably be a better fuck. He had only seen her a couple of times since that first day, but he would pay more attention in the future. She would be his next target.

  4

  Kitson was speechless. He stuttered his words, hesitated and then slipped into silence.

  He stood at the center of the room, commanding the attention for the students all around him like he always did. But he had been thrown off his game.

  It had barely been twelve hours since he slept with Elly and now she was in his class. He wanted to continue to play the role for her, that of a sexy, distinguished professor, to keep her on good terms incase he needed her again. But she wasn’t paying any attention to him.

  When he looked at her, halfway through a good and witty remark -- expecting her to be grinning and staring longingly at him like all the other girls -- she had a stern look on her face. She didn’t seem very impressed. As he struggled to find his voice, to move on after his joke, he noticed that she was grinningly shyly at a guy next to her, a guy who seemed to be very interested in her. Then he saw that the boy seemed to have his hand on her lap, she was covering it with her books but, judging by the twitching motion in his shoulder, his hand was active underneath the cover of the books. He was fingering her.

  The smiles in the room turned to awkward silences as he continued to stare. Most looked his way, to see where he was staring. Eventually Elly and the boy also noticed, the boy stopped moving, Elly, looking flustered, her cheeks red, grinned at him.

  He shook his head slowly, turned away. He had to have been imagining it. The sweet, shy girl that he had slept with wasn’t the sort of girl who let someone finger her in class, especially when that class was being taught by someone she had recently slept with.

  He dismissed it, continued on as best he could, trying not to look at Elly. He concentrated on the blonde girl, she was wearing a low cut top, her fleshy bosom on show. She was already tanned, but had tanned even more since her saw her last, the result of a machine or a bottle. She didn’t stop staring at him, she had a suggestive glimmer in her eye, almost winking at him whenever his eyes crossed hers. At one point he watched as she began to toy with her hair, almost instinctively thrusting her chest out to make her huge, enticing breasts look even bigger and more enticing.

  ***

  Elly liked the new boy. His name was Sam, or Simon, she didn’t really catch it. He was friendly and attractive and he seemed to like her. It was ironic really that she should meet him in Kitson’s class, with Kitson watching, but she didn’t give it much thought.

  Kitson seemed a bit off that morning. When the class finished, as she sat talking to her new friend, not really saying much but getting to know each other quite well, she noticed Kitson give her a few weird looks. But then she also noticed that he seem to be interrupted by the blonde with the nice body, the one who had lusted after him all week.

  She saw them talking at the front of the class, saw the blonde playing with her hair, giggling at everything that the professor said. Then Elly left.

  “Can I see you again?” Simon or Sam asked her.

  She smiled shyly. She didn’t know if it was wise but she didn’t want to disappoint him, so she didn't say anything. Just left him with a grin as she moved on to her next class.

  She was interrupted outside by Eddie, a freckled faced man in his thirties. A mature student studying computer design. He seemed equally shy and was breathless when he was speaking to her, as if he had been running to meet her or perhaps getting anxious as he stood nearby and tried to work up the courage to speak to her.

  “Hey, how are you?” he asked her.

  She smiled back, met his eyes and turned away shyly. He was very intense, had a way of staring unblinkingly into her eyes when he talked to her.

  “I’m good, thanks,” she said softly.

  “I was wondering,” he began. “If you maybe wanted to--”

  He paused when Sam, or whoever he was, appeared through the doorway. He came to her side and the two men exchanged awkward stares, facing off. The professor joined in, hovering around the back of them, seeing the tension and then walking away.

  “Everything okay here, Elly?” said the one whose name she couldn’t remember.

  She nodded, brushed her hair behind her ear, checked her watch. “I have to go to class.”

  “I can walk you,” Eddie jumped in.

  “She’s going with me,” the other added, puling Eddie away, perhaps too forcefully for his liking.

  Elly wasn’t going with either of them, she wasn’t sure any of them were even in her next class, but she didn’t have time to tell them that. The launched at each other. Eddie threw the first punch, connected with the other’s jaw, sending him sprawling against the wall, but after that it was hard to tell who threw what. It become a tangled mess. Arms, elbows and feet thrown around; grunts, groans and curses mixing in with the melee.

  She took a few steps back and turned around. The professor was standing there, he had a concerned look on his face. Elly frowned at him, nodded pleasantly and then walked around him, on her way to her next class.

  ***

  Kitson noticed that he wasn’t the only one in the large classroom to have seen what Elly and her friend were getting up to. O
thers were shooting sly glances and grins towards them, sniggering into each others’ ears as they watched a blatant show of sexual affection.

  When he finished with her, when his twitching arm had given her the pleasure she needed, when she bit back the orgasm -- her face flustered, red hot -- she began to work on him. Kitson had watched, keeping his eye on them, turning to look at them whenever he had the chance. He tried not to, tried to keep his attention on the gorgeous blonde who couldn’t look away from him, but even she was shooting sly glances towards Elly and her fingering friend. Kitson couldn’t help it and once he started to look, he struggled to look away.

  Using her books to cover his crotch, her left hand hidden underneath them, Elly worked quickly on her friend, returning the favor. Kitson ended the lesson early, he had no other choice, he was struggling to concentrate. He didn’t want to call them out, didn’t want to risk it. He was also embarrassed, shocked at what she was doing.