Anniversary

It's hard to write this post now that my torrid love affair with the Professor is a distant memory.  But then, my memories do tend to distance themselves with great speed.

I came to work on Wednesday morning dressed in a slinky black skirt and tight silky top, straight-haired and waxed for my date with the Professor that night.  And then I received this off-hand message :

[...]

No, not literally that.  Why can I find no trace of it in my records?  Ah yes, in a fit of pique I kept no records that day.  But the gist of the message was that his father's train was not at 18h49, but at 22h00, and this meant he could not see me that night after all.

Shocked and disappointed, I dashed off a line or two about how he was killing me, replete with broken-hearted and pouting emoticons, and signed off, resigned to my fate.  However, alone with my thoughts, I found myself entertaining unaccustomed suspicions. 

First of all, what kind of train leaves precisely at 22h00?  None that I know of, and certainly not the Eurostar to London.  In fact, the last of these, if I'm not mistaken (and I'm not, because I checked on their website), leaves the Gare du Nord at 21h13.  This was a lie if ever I've been told one.

Inclined as I may have been to panic, tear at my hair and rend my clothes in my distress, I attempted to compose myself with the reminder that, after all, the Professor doesn't owe me his fidelity, there's nothing I could do to enforce it even if I wanted to, and tearful accusations would only result in the kind of perfunctory and empty reassurance they deserve.

So I went out for a dismal drink with friends that night and returned to work the next morning fired with resolve - to avoid the Professor at all costs.

Of course, that didn't last.

A few tearful accusations and perfunctory reassurances later, I suggested that since the Professor had fucked me on his wife's birthday, it was only right that he should fuck me on my wedding anniversary.

Naturally, he asked when this was.

I told him, tomorrow.

"That can be arranged!" he said.

So the next day, Take II.  I spotted him on the train on my way home at lunch, in the reflection of the train window.  Though I couldn't see his face, I knew at once it was him.  I kissed him passionately on the escalator going up towards the exits.  "Kiss me like that again and I'll fuck you before we even get to your place," he told me.  I've never known it to take so long to get home from the station.  I was so wet and swollen, it hurt to walk.

I attacked him as soon as we got to the courtyard, he plunged his fingers into my aching pussy, dripping wet with excitement.  I fucked myself on his fingers for a while until he made me turn around and go inside.  My legs were weak and trembling as I climbed up the stairs, barely able to see where I was going, my vision so clouded with lust.  As soon as we got inside I sank to my knees, undoing his belt and taking him into my mouth with one hand as I removed my skirt and began to rub against my wet pussy with the other, inserting first one finger, then two as I moaned with my lips around his cock, hot with desire.

I was so swollen and slippery, though, that I could barely feel anything.  I needed him inside me, filling me up and stretching me out with his cock.  Finally he pulled me up and told me to turn around and bend over.  As soon as he entered me I felt the first waves of pleasure hit me.  Moving back and forth on his cock and grinding against it as he fucked me from behind I wanted him deeper and deeper inside me.  His fingers were dripping with my tart wetness as he grabbed my face to pull me back harder onto his cock, and I sucked at them hungrily, running my tongue around his wedding ring until I could no longer taste any trace of myself.  Finally my legs trembled and went weak at the knees and it seemed his cock was the only thing holding me up.  He lay me down on the sofa and climbed on top of me, thrusting into me and bringing me to orgasm again and again as I cried out in pleasure.

Eventually he extricated himself from me, spraying me with droplets of sweat from his hair as he got up to go to the bathroom, while I just lay there, helpless and unable to move for a few moments, I was so well fucked.

Once I had regained my composure somewhat, I followed him into the bathroom where I went down on him some more, once again enjoying the taste of my hot pussy on his cock, while he forced my face towards the mirror to make me watch myself with my mouth full of cock.  Then he swung me around and bent me down over the edge of the tub to fuck me again, pounding into me until I could barely keep my balance.

After that he asked me to get on the bed, on my hands and knees, so he could fuck me on all fours, eventually pushing me down onto the bed and lying on top of me, with my legs held together between his so he had to force himself between my thighs to penetrate me.  I was moaning and whimpering when he pulled himself off me, begging him to fuck me more, but he had to shower and get ready to go back to work.  I managed to suck him a little more in the shower, upon which he naturally had to fuck me again from behind, with my legs spread wide apart this time, it was so intense I could barely stand it, and in fact collapsed on to the floor afterwards in a sexual daze, my limbs like jelly and my entire body quivering as he extended a hand to me to help me up.

"Happy anniversary, darling," he said.