5. The lecturer's dick

“Hey babe, I miss you. I was wrong for what I did; I was wrong for what I said. I take the blame, but you should please forgive me, and let's go back to what we were. What we used to be and what we were going to be”

The beep came into my phone.

Message notifications. “Micheals”

I read, hissed and deleted it.

“Who was that?” Carol asked. Feigning ignorance of who it was.

“Nobody," I indistinctly muttered. She chuckled.

“Babe, please. I'm dying slowly. I know so well and so hard how I had hurt you, but please, just give me the chance to fix this. Give me the chance to make this work out, please, Sonia.”

I stared at the message once more. It was the umpteenth time he'd been sending me messages.

“Girl, at this point I seriously think you should hear this dude out. He wouldn't be going all out to apologize to you if he hadn't learned his lesson and hadn't missed you this much,”

Carol said, feeding her eyes around the room to know if there was anyone eavesdropping on her friendly advice to a lady whose ex is still back in the picture, despite her moving on. A part of her moving on. A little part of her.

“You can't be volatile, reminiscing about the past, hurting yourself when you and I clearly know that you still want this dude. So give it a shot, Girl. Nobody gives a damn what anyone thinks; your happiness is all that matters, she continued. I kept on staring at her, highly impressed, knowing that for the first time in my twenty-plus years of friendship with Carol, she was actually making sense of something without turning it into a joke.

I grew up knowing that Carol was that friend who was never serious but would always be there for you, no matter what. She has been my backbone for years, my support system, emotionally, physically, mentally, and psychologically. She was there when I had broken up with Micah, and now she wouldn't let me sulk over Michaels, and for the first time in a long time, I believed her. Not when he, Micheals, was my lecturer, but our relationship was a secret.

“Dinner at home, 8:50pm” I sent it to him.

“Okay, Señorita,” he replied. Carol winked at me, raising his thumbs up to show satisfaction. We stood up, packed our books, and left. It was the end of the semester and the beginning of another sexcapade with my teacher.

-

-

“You look really stunning, Sonia.” He made for my hand, holding it close to his lips, and kissed me. My legs suddenly felt heavy because of my weight. Micheal knew just how to get me without saying a word.

I tried to look away, releasing myself from his grip, but he was smarter. Way smarter than I am to know that I wanted to resist his charm. Still holding my hand, he made a U-turn and turned the knob of the door, knowing fully well that it was what I had wanted to do, using it as bait to avoid his seduction.

Without saying a word, he pulled me closer to himself until I was close. Close enough to feel like I'd enter into his body on the next attempt. For a minute or two, we both stood in front of each other, staring into each other's eyes, reading each other's eyes, and I couldn't tell what was on his mind, but I knew. I saw the affection and hatred in his eyes. Affection of me missing him and the hatred of him cheating on me.

“I have missed you, Sonia,” he finally broke the silent jinx. I didn't say a word. He knew I knew he wouldn't defeat me in an eye-staring contest. He took away his eyes, flung my hair gently to the back of my ear, and then kissed my neck, consciously triggering all the hormones in my body. I stood there romantically terrified and at his mercy.

He knew my weak point, and targeting it was a typical emotional blackmail of him because he knew I wouldn't resist it. His lips left my neck and made for my mouth.

We started kissing off so greatly. Lustfully, like two lovers who haven't seen each other in years. We have been apart for just a week.

“I'm sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you. He didn't wait for an answer as he voluntarily grabbed me from the floor, heading to the dining table, using his hand to make some clearing. My jug fell from the table and scattered on the floor.

“Oh Christ!” I cursed under my breath, weakly.

“I'd get a new one for you,” he assured me.

My eyes were shut already as I wandered into nothingness, reminiscing about how good our sex life has always been. He is the only man who knows just how well to make me feel my feminine sexual side.

Still staring at me, his looks had this lustfulness that comes with it. His fingers trailing around my nape, causing uncontrollable shivers in my spine, and finally it arrived at the destination it was heading. With his index finger, he pushed down the sleeve of the gown, which fell freely, exposing my two little breasts, staring directly into him. He loved the sight he was beholding.

Gently, he cupped my right breast, then the second. I could feel my pussy drenching. I hated that I loved the feeling I was getting from my supposed ex-boyfriend. My lecturer.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked in the most calming way he could. The atmosphere was serene, and all I could ever think of was him.

I nodded my head in affirmation, slowly. But Michael knows his onions. “Nodding isn't a response, my love.” He then let out a smile that I know conveys smugness, self-satisfaction, and pleasure at my misfortune.

“Please, fuck me, Michael Kerting,” I supplicated.

“Undress yourself,” he commanded. Stepping back from the table, he pulled a chair and sat down to watch me do what he had asked that I do. Reluctantly, I pulled down the gown I was putting on, exposing an hourglass body lying on the table, legs crossed.

He took a minute to fix his eyes on me. He smirked once again, standing up and making for the wine rack that was in the dining room, opened it, then started probing through the wines, raising each up, reading the contents, and repeating the process until he found what he was looking for. Pinot Noir. Helped himself with a glass, sipped it at first, then hurriedly gulped down the last residue of the glass, belching mildly, and then turned back to me.

“Let's get to making you happy, Sonia.” Without saying a word, he spread my legs gently. My neatly shaved pussy is staring at him.

He once again started the Cook's voyage aboard Endeavour with his tongue, this time flicking his tongue on my umbilicus.

Micheal was evil. A sexy kind of evil, manipulative man who enjoys torturing me. He had made me lie on my back on the table, my legs spread up wide and apart in the air, then his tongue went into me. First, on my clitoris, spending much more time sucking and licking on it, and then finding a way to insert a finger and using both simultaneously.

I was shouting. I was shaking. I was moaning. I was literally and practically shaking from his tongue movements inside of me; I held his head, buried my hands into his hair as I was moaning out his name. I didn't know if I should push him away or if I should bury his head more.

I was loving it; I could feel the orgasm building up.

“M-Miche-al”

I could feel my muscles contracting and a shaking sensation, occupied by my legs shaking, caused by the intense muscle tension. He got up and kept on staring erotically at me while I littered my table with my fluids, and then I relaxed. Looked at him, and we both smiled coincidentally.

“I have missed you too, Michael,” I finally confessed. He didn't say a word; instead, he pulled down his pants, allowing his boxers to fall off, his dick longer than it used to be, or maybe my eyes were deceiving me. I tried to touch it, but he restrained me.

“I'm here to make it up to you, remember?” I smiled. The first genuine smile since he came that evening.

He then pulled me closer to himself. My back on the table, he was standing at the edge, my legs raised upwards towards his shoulders and able to accommodate what was coming. He was getting tipsy already. One could easily beat Michael in a drinking competition; he wasn't the type to have a glass of red wine and remain the same.

I closed my eyes as he inserted his dick into me. It was easy. I already had enough wetness to serve as a lubricant.

Then the thrust came on. Each thrust reminds me of how much I have missed him. Micheal wasn't the type to give a painful penetration, though dominant, but slow and steady; he'd pound you into cumming.

I could feel every inch of his skin penetrating into the walls of my vagina, like a piercing, slowly and painfully in a pleasurable way.

I had locked my eyes into his, and then he lowered his head to meet mine; we started kissing. Our mouths said what we couldn't say into each other's mouths. While he was slowly penetrating down, I wrapped my legs around his waist, my two hands wrapped over his neck as well. My fingers buried deeply into his back, deep enough not to cause him pain.

He held onto my waist, my legs now wrapped up and resting on his shoulders. I was moaning. I was screaming.

“I'm cumming!! I'm cumminggg!” My legs were vibrating. I could feel a very high, intense, pleasurable sensation that was radiating through my body. I was having another session of muscle contractions, my breathing was rapid, and I'm sure he could see the facial flushing.

He gently raised me up from the table and sat me down. My legs were too heavy. I couldn't move them. My heart rate had increased, I nearly collapsed.

He was smiling.

“What did you prepare for dinner?” He asked, weakly but non reluctantly, his dick dangling

“I still want more of you,” I pleaded.