Extra Credit: A College Reverse Harem Romance Page 3

  Eventually Zack let out a long sigh of pleasure, then lessened his grip on my body. His cock slid out of me and he spun me around, kissing me while holding me in his strong arms. His tongue pushed wetly against mine, and although the taste of whipped cream was gone I didn’t want him to stop. While kissing me he lifted me onto the table again, just like when he had eaten me out.

  But this time it wasn’t his tongue that pushed against my pussy.

  I spread my legs for him and he sank into me, filling me with his cock in one long thrust. We moaned into each other’s mouth as we coupled again, but simply being inside me wasn’t enough. Zack planted his hands on either side of me on the table and began fucking me. The way his cock filled my pussy was incredible, hitting every nerve against every one of my inner walls.

  Soon we were both breathing too heavily to continue kissing. He pulled his lips away and I leaned back on my palms, taking in the sight of this beautiful man before me. Sweat beaded on Zack’s perfect body while he fucked me, and it darkened his blond hair at his temples. I watched one trail of sweat run down his chin and onto his chest, continuing down his belly until it ran between his six-pack abs which tightened and contracted with every thrust. He crashed his cock into my pussy again and again, shaking the kitchen table underneath us.

  A roar of pleasure rumbled out of his throat. I added my own cry of ecstasy to his. He gripped my waist with both hands, arms bulging with muscle and sweat while he fucked me relentlessly. All of my senses collided—Zack’s manly scent, his roar of pleasure in my ears, the sight of him going to town between my legs, and the feel of his thick cock fucking my pussy—and the combination was more than I could stand. Another climax tingled in my loins and then burst into flames, causing me to arch my back and scream with pleasure. His grip on my waist tightened while he fucked me, each pump an exclamation point on the end of my orgasm.

  Zack’s voice rose with mine and he finally couldn’t last any longer. He thrust one final time, as deep as he could into my pussy, before pulling out. He stepped up between my legs and gripped his cock in a fist. The noise that escaped his lips was more animal than man as he blew his load. I pushed my breasts together and savored the sight of Zack as he stroked himself, shooting his hot, sticky come all over my chest. His blue eyes widened and locked onto mine as he came, his entire body heaving like the final throes of a machine that had completed its purpose.

  My chest heaved with pleasure when the final strand of come had landed on my skin. I caressed my chest, feeling the warmth and stickiness of his seed and rubbing it around my nipples as he caught his breath. Finally he leaned down and kissed me on the lips. His sweat was salty to go along with the sweet cream from earlier.

  The taste gave me an idea. I grabbed the can of whipped cream next to me and sprayed a bit in between my tits. Then I used a finger to scoop it up, mixing it with Zack’s come. I raised my finger to my lips and sucked the mixture off, enjoying the salty-and-sweet combination.

  Zack seemed to really like that. “It’s only been thirty seconds and I think I’m already hard again.”

  I giggled and slid off the table, kissing him in passing before grabbing a washcloth from the kitchen to clean myself off with. “You’re the one who brought the whipped cream. I’m just working with what I’ve got.”

  “I like the way you improvise. You’re one dirty teacher.”

  I began cleaning myself off. “That’s why I’ve never been married.”

  The sudden change of subject caught him off guard for a moment. “Because you’re great in bed?” he said while pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  I tossed the soiled washcloth to the ground and sat on his lap. I had made the mistake of not being up-front with men before. It was always better to let them know as early as possible, so that there weren’t any misunderstandings. That way everyone was on the same page from the beginning.

  Even if it made for an awkward conversation now.

  “I love sex. I mean I really love it. The dirtier the better. Trying new things, different positions, playing with toys…”

  Zack perked up. “Toys?”

  I ignored his sudden curiosity. “I’ve only had a few long-term relationships. They always end because I get bored. Sexually, I mean. I like to keep things fun and exciting, and that’s tough to do when you’ve been with someone for two years.”

  “I see,” he said.

  “You asked me earlier, and this is the truth,” I said. “I’ve had serious relationships before and I know it never works. I wanted to make that clear now. I’m not looking to get tied down.”

  Zack smiled mischievously. “On the contrary, I bet you would love to get tied down.”

  I giggled. “Okay, poor choice of words. But yes. I just want to make sure things are clear.”

  “I appreciate the honesty.”

  I caressed his cheek and kissed him again. “You’re the first stripper I’ve ever slept with.”

  “That’s good, because you’re the first client I’ve slept with.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m serious,” he insisted. “Cross my heart and hope to die. It’s actually kind of a rule we have, a line we don’t cross…”

  He seemed conflicted by that, so I quickly said, “I didn’t hire you. So technically I’m not your client. I’m just someone you shared an UberPool ride with.”

  “Who then invited me into her apartment for steamy sex on the table where she has to eat.”

  “Technically, I never invited you in,” I said.

  He grinned up at me. “The invitation was implied. So, about these toys…”

  I tapped his nose with my fingertip. “We can save that for next time.”

  Zack’s hand slid around to cup my ass. “Why wait? Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready for round two.”

  I felt his cock harden underneath my thigh. The invitation was tempting. It had been a while since I opened my box of toys for a man, and Zack seemed intrigued. There was no better feeling than being fucked by a man while he held a vibrator to your clit…

  But it was late. It was past my bedtime when I left the bachelorette party, which meant it was really late now. No matter how much fun I wanted to have tonight I knew I would pay for it in the morning. That would not be a great way to start the fall semester.

  “I need to get some sleep,” I said with a sigh.

  “That’s all I get?” he asked with a playful glare. “Wham, bam, thank you Sam?”

  “More like thanks for the snack, Zack. Oh! I’ve got it! Zack Zack the cock attack!”

  Zack burst out laughing. “I don’t know how to feel about you using my childhood nickname in a sexy way rather than teasing.”

  I gave him a long, sensual kiss. “I still don’t believe that you were a pimply nerd growing up.”

  “I’ll show you pictures.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “That’s my excuse to come over to your place next time. Tenth floor, you said?”

  “Ten-nineteen,” he said. “And this time I’m telling the truth.”

  I watched him get dressed while giggling. As sexy was it was to see him undress, there was nothing sillier than watching a man put on a thong and then re-button every single button in his breakaway pants. He kissed me one final time.

  “Thanks for the after-party, Jessica.”

  “Thanks for the private stripping show.”

  I smiled to myself long after he had left.

  6

  Jessica

  It felt so good to let loose again.

  What I had told Zack was true. I used to be a lot more adventurous. I had even had a threesome once, although the guys were awkward around each other and it left me disappointed. But I was still adventurous enough to try it.

  Yet since becoming a professor three years ago? I had toned down my sex life. It was like a switch flipped and suddenly I had to be a different person. Associate Professors were intelligent and dignified. They didn’t sleep around with strangers on
the weekend. Then there was the worst-case scenario: what if word of my extra-curricular activities got out? If my students found out, I would never be able to stand in front of a classroom again.

  So I went on normal-with-air-quotes dates and made small talk with men who I wasn’t going to sleep with on the first date. The shitty part was that after getting to know men, I usually didn’t want to sleep with them. I preferred it when there was no emotional or intellectual connection. A physical act, like two people playing tennis. An hour of sweaty activity, a handshake, and then going on our separate ways.

  After all these years, it was liberating to finally have some fun again. I had forgotten how much I loved spontaneous sex with a man. The thrill of someone new. A stranger coming into my apartment and fucking me on the table.

  Plus Zack lived upstairs. That might make things uncomfortable when this fling fizzled out in a week or two, but for now it made things wonderfully convenient. A booty-call that was a single elevator ride away. I couldn’t wait to have more fun with him, enjoying things while it lasted.

  I woke up early the next morning and drove to work while humming along to the radio.

  Des Moines State University wasn’t as prestigious as the University of Iowa or Iowa State, but it was on the upswing. More people than ever before were pursuing advanced degrees. DMSU had gone from a backup school to a lot of people’s first choice. We had a strong business school, and a lot of money was being poured into the engineering department. Within a decade it would rival the bigger schools in Iowa City and Ames.

  As an Associate Professor, I had a bright career ahead of me.

  I parked in the faculty lot and walked across campus. I passed the Bennington Business School building on the way, the largest and newest building on campus. It was still early but I wondered if I would see Zack. The thought made me giggle. Sleeping with a student was the perfect amount of naughtiness that I had avoided for so long, but it wasn’t too naughty. Plenty of professors slept with students. As long as they weren’t in one of their classes—or better yet, as long as they weren’t in the same department—then there was no problem. It was still frowned upon, but not outright banned.

  It felt like the academic equivalent of being handcuffed to a bed. All the fun without any real risk.

  The history building was much older, built from sand-colored stones and covered in windows that were so thick you could barely see inside. It smelled like a library as I walked inside—musty and ancient. I loved the scent. It reminded me of my own days as a student, pulling all-nighters in the campus library.

  A new day. A new semester. A new set of students to teach.

  I swung by my office to print copies of the syllabus for my class. On the way out I spotted one of my colleagues walking the other way. Dominic Karlson was a fellow Associate Professor of history. With his wavy brown hair, sharp eyes, and smattering of freckles he was one of the hottest men in our department. That was a low bar since most of the men in our department were in their seventies, but Dominic was still fine without any qualifiers. He was always a sharp dresser, and today his shirt, tie, and vest were perfectly tailored to his muscular frame. He had played football here at DMSU when he was a student ten years ago, and he still looked fit enough to throw on a jersey and run out onto the field.

  I didn’t know many football players who eventually went on to get their Doctorate, but then again there was nothing stereotypical about Dominic.

  I opened my mouth to call out to him, but he was too far away and I was too nervous. I had a big crush on Dominic—one which I had never acted on. Last semester we had shared a few lunches in the cafeteria while discussing history, but then the semester ended and we didn’t see each other all summer.

  But of course I was afraid of screwing things up. That’s why I had never asked him out. I wasn’t great on normal dates. And even if things went perfectly, I would get bored of him after a few weeks. Just like all the other men I had been with. Throw in the fact that he was my colleague in the office next to mine, and it would make things awkward? Better to crush on him from a distance without ever taking it further. That way he would stay perfect in my head.

  That didn’t stop me from fantasizing about it, though.

  My first class of the fall semester was History 414: The Decline of the Roman Empire. It was in one of the larger lecture halls which could fit a hundred students, but there were only twenty-five students in this class. It was an upper-level class full of seniors and a few grad students. In fact, it was restricted only to students with history majors or minors. Anyone outside the department who wanted to take the class had to get special approval from an adviser.

  I arrived early, but ten students were already scattered throughout the seats. Melanie, my Graduate Teaching Assistant, was seated on the lecture stage typing quickly into her laptop.

  “Morning, Professor Morris,” she said.

  I had met her a week ago when we sat down to go over the semester plan. She was a bubbly student, smart and straight-laced. She would make a good professor of her own some day, although her lectures would be boring.

  “Morning Melanie. Did you go to any of the campus parties last night?”

  She blinked at me. “Campus parties? Oh, ha ha! Campus parties! Good one, professor.”

  Definitely not the partying type. I couldn’t blame her since I didn’t enjoy those kinds of parties myself.

  “The student list is on the desk,” Melanie told me.

  I glanced at it. Twenty-five students were listed, just like the last time I checked. Perfect. I hated when there were last-minute additions.

  Some more students were wandering through the door so I turned to address the room. “There’s no need to spread out. Please sit closer to the front so I don’t have to speak as loud. I don’t mind using my bullhorn, but I’m sure you would all prefer my normal voice.”

  The students in the back got up and moved closer. None of them laughed at my joke. That didn’t surprise me. An eight o’clock class on a Monday meant there would be a lot of half-awake students guzzling coffee. But I didn’t mind. I loved being a teacher. Especially in the higher-level classes like these. Exhaustion aside, there was excitement in the faces of the students. They were here because they had a passion for history. They wanted to learn. That was so much better than teaching the lower-level classes where most of the students just needed the three credits on their schedule.

  This was my third semester teaching History 414. I had honed the syllabus to the point that it was a lean, history-packed class. Very little extraneous data. It was an exciting class full of nuance and theory, and I was excited to get started.

  While more students trickled in, I picked up a piece of chalk and began drawing a map on the chalkboard. I started on the Iberian coast and worked my way up through France, curving around the lowlands and then Denmark. This was my favorite party trick: I could draw a full map of Europe from memory. I left out all the modern borders so that it was a featureless blob, then filled in the Alps and Carpathian Mountains. Then I added the British Isles and the North African coast, with a sliver of the holy lands connecting Anatolia to Egypt.

  Once the outline of Europe was done, I turned the chalk sideways and began shading-in the map. Italy, France, Spain and Portugal. The lower half of England. The Balkans, Greece, Turkey across the Caucasus, up and down the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. Then the holy lands, Egypt, and a sliver of coast that spanned all the way across Northern Africa until it reached the Atlantic.

  When I was done, the only parts not shaded in were Germany, Eastern Europe, Russia, and parts of the British Isles. I wrote the date 117CE next to the map and put the chalk down with an emphatic click.

  “Welcome to History 414, The Decline of the Roman Empire. I’m Professor Morris. This class meets every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at eight in the morning. I know that’s early. It’s a struggle for me sometimes, too. If you’re late to class I’m not going to make a big deal about it, as long as you quietly
take your seat without disrupting class.”

  Two more students slipped through the door as I was saying this. They made their way to the back row of class, so I said, “Please sit closer to the front. We have a small class so we should be able to get everyone to fit in the first three rows.”

  I waited until they were seated before tapping the chalkboard on the date. “This class covers the last three centuries of the Roman Empire. We will begin in one-seventeen CE, the year of Emperor Trajan’s death when the empire was at its largest. We will conclude at the year…”

  I cut off as another student walked in.

  But it wasn’t any student.

  It was Zack. He was wearing jeans and a tight-fitting cotton t-shirt, but it was definitely him.

  What was he doing here?

  My first assumption was that he had tracked me down to say something sweet. Maybe telling me that he had fun last night, and that he hoped I had a nice day. Something tugged at my heart. It was a wonderful gesture. It would have been better five minutes ago before I started teaching, but it was a nice touch nonetheless.

  But then his eyes widened with surprise.

  He wasn’t expecting to see me here.

  And if that was true…

  He unfroze himself and walked into the classroom, up the steps to the last row. He unslung his backpack and sat down, pulling out a laptop to take notes.

  Oh no, I thought.

  Everyone in the class was staring at me, waiting for me to continue the lecture. Instead, I approached the work desk and looked at the student list. A quick scan…

  Zachary Tupelo

  Shit.

  Melanie cleared her throat and gave me a look: what’s wrong?

  “I, uh…” I said, turning back to the chalkboard. “As I was saying, we will cover the, uh…”

  “Excuse me?” Melanie called out to Zack. “Can you please sit closer? We have a small class.”

  Once again I was distracted as Zack got up, walked down the steps, and took a seat closer to the front.