She looked from the book on the desk in front of her to the professor and locked her eyes with those green ones. The handsome man licked his lips nervously and cleared his throat before he managed to tear his gaze away. “That’s right, Miss Court. Can anyone else tell me why enzymes might most likely not be involved?”
Jeanne leaned back in her seat, trying to memorize those plush lips while her eyes followed the professor as he made his way to the other side of the room. His gait was uneven, his feet turned inward a little when lifted. He rocked his upper body from the left to the right to help lift them but still the characteristic dragging sound accompanied every step when the soles of his shoes scraped the linoleum floor.
This had been the first thing she had noticed about the professor, Jeanne remembered. The sound of him walking when he had entered the lecture room on the very first day; turning her half boredom into undivided attention. She had known what she wanted on that day already. A wonder she had managed to wait that long. But when she caught the red on the professor’s cheek as he sat down on his chair at the front, hovering over the seat for a fraction before falling into it the rest of the way, she knew it had been worth the wait.
The professor sat the chalk piece he had used to write something on the board in his huge, nearly undecipherable handwriting on the table and nudged the laptop closer with his left fist. He refused looking over to her for the rest of the lecture but the blush on his cheeks remained. She knew he could sense her staring as he went through the slides, tapping the keys with his forefinger slightly extended, the thumb helping to keep it steady enough to hit the right key. He repeatedly pushed his lenses back up his nose with the back of his left hand, leaving small traces of white chalk on his forehead. His hands had left the same traces on his dark jeans. They were invisible on the white button-up, the sleeves of which he had pushed up over his elbows.
The lecture ended and Jeanne realized she had written no notes again. As the other students packed their things and filed out of the room she stood and walked over to where the professor was still seated, as usually waiting until everyone had left before he locked up the room behind himself. He pretended not to see her advancing until she stood directly in front of him, but Jeanne had noticed his left leg jumping.
His head jerked up.
She loved how his speech dragged, as if he were drunk and determined not to let it show. He leaned down and fished for his bag, setting it on his lap to pack his things and creating some sort of barrier at the same time.
Jeanne smiled and tucked her thumbs in the pockets of her pants. Very, very short pants, clinging to her legs like nothing. “Our appointment is at one, is that right, sir?”
The professor struggled with putting his laptop into the protective sleeve, his movements slightly uncoordinated. Jeanne did not blink an eye until he had wrenched it inside and placed it in his bag with his other things.
Professor Carper slung the strap of the bag over his shoulder and grabbed the black cane leaning against the side of the table. “Yes, that is right, Miss Court...” He paused, looking up at her.
Jeanne thought there was a spark in those green eyes but also weariness around his lips. Was he afraid she would cancel? “I’ll be there, professor.”
She marched past him, making sure he could enjoy the sway of her hips and looked back when she was at the door, winking at him before she strode through. The picture of his slightly open mouth followed her through lunch.
Punctual to the minute she knocked at the door of Professor Carper’s office. Upon being called inside she entered. The office was spacious. Dark wooden shelves stacked with books lined the wall and there was a green couch to the left. The professor turned on his office chair the second she stepped inside and placed his elbows on the shining wooden surface of the desk, piercing her through his glasses as she sat down on the chair in front of the desk.
“So… Miss Court. As I understand you are applying for a student assistant job in the laboratories. Your grades are excel-“
He stopped short when she put a hand on one of his holding the paper with her grades.
“That’s right, professor. But right now…” she circled her thumb over the back of his hand. “There is something entirely else I want.”
The professor swallowed thickly but did not pull his hand away. “W-what would that be, Miss Court?”
Jeanne suppressed a smile. She leaned closer, until she sensed him stiffening. “I want you,” she breathed, flashing a grin.
The professor’s hand twitched under hers and he averted his eyes. “I-I don’t understand, Miss Court.”
“I’ve seen you looking at me, Professor. All those weeks… I know that you like what you see.” Jeanne released his hand and stood up. She tucked at the hem of her shirt, every motion being followed by the professor’s eyes. “And I realized letting you wait longer would be torture.”
She made to remove her shirt when the professor stirred.
“Please, Miss Court. I am sure you misread something.” He ruffled his hair with a shaking hand.
Jeanne loved how it stood up afterwards and let out a bright laugh. The shirt landed on the floor. She did not move, just stood in front of the professor who stared at her in her bra with a pained expression on his face.
“Jeanne… Miss Court, we really should not-“
Jeanne opened the button on her pants. “I know you want it, too, sir. I have seen it in your beautiful eyes every time you went past my desk. You cannot stop thinking about me.”
The professor let out a small groan when she unzipped the pants as well. “I don’t think this is an appropriate student-teacher rel-“
“We won’t do anything forbidden. I am 18, professor.”
The professor closed his eyes for a brief second. “I am nearly twice as old as you,” he hissed.
Jeanne chuckled as she fully removed the pants. She had already discarded her shoes. “I don’t mind having a mature human being in my bed,” she purred as she walked towards his desk. He kept seated as if glued to his chair.
Jeanne took his chin in her hand, feeling the stubble underneath her skin. “This…” she whispered. “…is what I dreamed of. Is it the same for you?”
“Jeanne…” His voice had gained a pleading edge.
Jeanne sat on the cold surface of the desk and dipped her head towards his. She could feel his breath on her cheeks, shallow and fast. When their lips touched she thought he would pull away. It was a sensitive moment, one that could fully determine where this was going. But he remained still and stiff for a brief moment, surprised even though he had clearly anticipated her action, before tucking a hand in her hair and pulling her even closer.
Jeanne let out a surprised yelp before pressing her lips to his harder, hungrily. The professor moaned against her lips and she pulled away, a wicked grin on her face. She climbed over the desk, paper and pens rolling away and falling to the floor unnoticed by either of them, and straddled his lap in the office chair. She could feel his hard-on through the denim as they kissed.
“This… is… inappropriate still…” he weakly murmured in between kisses, his hands roaming her body in jerky motions.
“Can we… just forget… about conventions, professor? This one… time?” she whispered harshly while nipping at the lobe of his ear, the crook of his neck, the breath of the professor hitching every time she met a sensitive spot.
The professor did not reply, instead he moved his hands to the fastening of her bra. She waited as he fumbled, stiff fingers fluttering uncooperative over the tiny hooks.
“I… damn it… could you?” There was an edge to his voice.
She smiled, leaned back and opened her bra, giving him view of her full breasts the moment they were free. He stared at them, seemingly unable to say anything, his left shoulder jerking involuntarily. He swallowed hard.
Jeanne laughed and surged in for another kiss, leading his right hand to her right breast as she did. He startled, breaking the kiss and watched her eyes that were only inches from his. “Is this… okay?”
Jeanne knew he was referring to his hand on her breast, his fingers twitching with tiny muscle contractions, sometimes squeezing unintentionally. Jeanne took his other hand and moved it to her left breast in an answer, leading the knuckles of his curled up hand over her hardening nipple. She supposed he could not open the fist enough to take her breast in hand and she seemed right as he did not object.
“Does that feel like it’s not?”
The professor shook his head, eyes wide. Jeanne started moaning at a particularly sharp squeeze of his right hand and moved her hands under his shirt, tackling his nipples. He closed his eyes, his breathing growing heavier and faster.
At one point the professor tucked his button-down free, starting to undo the buttons with his right hand. She nudged his hands away to do it herself and froze slightly because damn this could be read wrong but he did not seem to mind, instead moved his hand over her curves in awe. She admired his well toned chest as she stripped the button-down off him, letting her hands caress the muscles of his arms. He watched her with a small frown still in place, clearly doubting this was happening. A jolt ran up her body as she noticed his left elbow would not straighten out fully as she carefully pulled the sleeve over it. She rocked against his hard cock, grinding down on him in need for something, anything. Her breathing had become as erratic as his.
At that moment his left leg started jumping again. Jeanne barely felt it and did not mind it but an angry groan from the professor made her stop. The professor’s face was slightly contorted from pain, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Shit.” She scrambled off of his lap and the jumping seemed to die away. She stood, unsure about how to go on from this.
“Couch,” the professor slurred, not bothering for his speech apparently. He grabbed the edge of the desk to stand and wobbled towards the couch without his cane. Jeanne’s breath hitched as he staggered during the first steps and caught himself with his left fist on the top of the desk. She watched as he let himself fall down on the couch, helping his legs up with his right hand. He turned his head to look at her, frowning slightly when he realized she had not followed.
Instead, Jeanne sat down on the now empty office chair, the leather warm against her back, drawing in the scent of him. She kneaded her breasts while watching him from under hooded eyes.
“Touch yourself,” she said. “Please…”
The professor groaned and shifted slightly, the bulge tenting the forefront of his pants clearly visible.
“Strip your clothes, all of them. Take your dick.” She could barely contain herself at the thought of it and quickly forced herself to lay her hands on the armrest of the chair.
The professor cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “O-okay?” He opened the button on his jeans one-handed and pushed it down a little with the help of both hands, his left flailing slightly before finding a grip. Jeanne felt her desire peak at the sight. His underpants were peeled down as well and his erect cock sprang free, bouncing. Jeanne bit her lower lip and dug her fingernails into the leather armrests, squirming in the seat with barely contained desire.
The professor turned his head again to look at her, expression smoothing when he saw how she enjoyed the view. A small grin blossomed on his lips. She wished she could tell him how beautiful he looked.
The professor moved his right hand to his cock, but before he could wrap it around the length, Jeanne interjected.
“Take your left.”
“Please, take your left hand.” She met his confused gaze, unwavering and he nodded after a few seconds.
His right hand helped the stiff fingers of his left to curl around his cock as best as possible. The hand started moving up and down, jerky and uncoordinated. A few times he nearly lost contact altogether and eventually he huffed angrily and closed his right hand around his left fist, trying to smooth out the movement, increase the pressure. He turned his head towards Jeanne again, a crease on his forehead.
Jeanne had not been able to stop herself at the sight of her professor, one hand touching herself through her pants. She smiled weakly at the professor. “You have no idea how hot you are.”
The professor gulped and turned his attention back towards his dick, masturbating with both hands, slowly but steadily working himself up. Jeanne closed her eyes at the breathy moans that escaped his lips, trying her best not to come at that alone. When she thought she could not resist longer she forced herself to stand up from the office chair.
“That’s enough.” Her voice was calm. The professor flinched and stopped, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.
Jeanne walked to his side, admiring the flush cock that was greeting her, glistening with pre-come. She let her fingertips wander over the professor’s abs, skirting the area near his cock which elicited a frustrated groan from the man, and continued over the still clothed parts of his legs down to his black leather shoes.
She sat on the cold surface of the couch next to his feet and gently placed them on her lap, undoing the Velcro. The professor lay still, staring at the ceiling above him, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
Let’s see what the issue is here.
When she removed the shoe from his right foot a plastic plate running along the underside of his sock-clad foot became visible. The professor stirred but before he could say anything Jeanne pushed the jeans further up the calf, undoing the Velcro strap that fixed the brace.
“It’s okay,” she whispered and put the AFO on the floor. The second shoe and AFO followed and she tucked at the legs of the jeans to remove them. The professor wriggled his butt from one side to the other using his hands to the side of his body and with her tucking at the pants at the same time, they went off. So did the underpants.
Jeanne stood again, took the professor’s gnarled left hand and hooked two of the fingers in the side of her panties, smiling at him.
“You are a wicked girl.” The professor pulled them down, slowly, until they dangled around her ankles and she stepped out of them, completely naked now as well.
“Want you.” The professor’s eyes were glazed over. He gently, carefully, took one of her hands in his right one, moving it towards his dick. “You’ve ever done that?”
Jeanne chuckled. “I am no child anymore, old man.” She straddled him and started pumping his dick, slowly, relishing the throaty moans the professor started to make, the whimpers that escaped when she flicked her wrist at the tip of his dick.
“I meant… have you ever… done it with a… cripple like me?”
The heat rushing to her vagina nearly knocked her over. Her hand pumping his dick staggered, before finding the rhythm again.
His grin was lopsided, his eyes sparkling.
She promptly increased the speed of her hand and the professor threw his head back, mouth open, and howled. She had not imagined him so loud. What about the other people on the same floor? Maybe the professor enjoyed the thought of being overheard. That gave Jeanne an additional thrill.
She felt the legs under her kick out involuntary and rocked against him, seeking more friction. Little sighs fell from her lips. The professor’s breath came in desperate gasps, he seemed to come close very fast, his arms flailing as he searched for something to hold on. The palms of his hands met the side of the couch with a thud and her thigh with a slap that made her jump although it had not hurt. She moaned louder and his eyes widened.
“Oh fuck --- need you. Now.” His speech had rendered nearly intelligible.
She nodded, breathless. She knew they would not need lube, she could not remember having ever been this wet in her whole life. "Condoms?"
The professor's face fell but she had foreseen as much, scrambling for her discarded pants to get the desired item. She ripped the packaging open, quickly rolling the condom down over his slick dick while he watched, catching his breath. She guided his dick to her entrance, letting herself down on it slowly, feeling him enter her.
The professor had stilled, watching her through half closed eyes. “You okay?”
She started moving, feeling his cock slide along her inner walls. “Oh god… are you kidding?”
The professor placed a quivering hand on her thigh, gently. “It’s going to get worse when… you know…”
“You mean the spasms?”
The professor nodded, staring at a point over her shoulder.
Jeanne took his chin in hand and turned his head to face her again. “I had hoped so.”
“You got to be kidding me…” But the professor smiled. He grabbed her hip with his right hand, nearly painfully, guiding her up and down.
Jeanne bared her teeth. “F-fuck – stop doubting yourself. Like ever… again. You are the… most perfect… did you know – I dreamed of this for weeks,” she mumbled while she rode him faster, each movement starting a new firecracker in her vagina.
“You – d-did?” The professor furrowed his brows as he concentrated on speaking, his face contorting with the effort. His breath came in short, rapid puffs. “D-did you get off on me?”
“Countless…. times.” She flashed him a grin, feeling herself coming closer to the edge. “Oh yes, professor…. so good… even better than… what I imagined.”
The professor’s legs danced on the couch behind her. “Jeanne – Jesus…”
“Speak to me, please.”
He frowned and licked his lips. “I… I – thought about t-t…. oh y-yes…” His feverish eyes searched hers, his head jerking. “But… I-I d-didn’t – ngnh! – think this could be real. You… you are gorgeous and intelligent and – But I knew… hu…. – that you were… s-special.” His left fist pounded the leather couch relentlessly, his right hand anchored on her hips. “Oh fuck, Jeanne – I don’t –”
Jeanne had increased speed, riding him for dear life, the slapping of sweaty skin on skin making obscene sounds. Her orgasm was only seconds away. “Can you – shit – I need – can you thrust?”
The grip on her hip intensified. “N-Not like this.”
She bit her lip, moving off his dick, and to the side. She thought she might pass out the moment she felt empty, her body taught with want.
He pushed up on his elbows and turned his body over to the side.
“I got to be on top in that case. S-sorry.”
She laid down on her back, motioning him to move over her. He did so, carefully maneuvering his right leg over to the other side, precariously propped up on his arms to the sides of her head, his left hand still curled into a fist.
“C-can you… I don’t…” he began but she had already wrenched an arm between their bodies, taking his dick in hand and guiding it towards her entrance.
He started thrusting mostly using his arms to pull himself forward and the weight of his lower body to push into her, his legs supporting him only insufficiently. Jeanne met his thrusts with hers, her fingernails clutching his ass cheeks, feeling the muscles twitch underneath. She let out high pitched screams as she neared orgasm, the professor’s ragged breathing and desperate grunts in her ear. His arms shook from the effort of keeping him upright and his whole body jolted with involuntary kicks from his legs.
“Professor – I am – oh god – professor, sir, please –”
He got completely still, then his whole body started to shiver and convulse as his orgasm hit him. He emptied in her, a broken cry on his lips, every muscle taught. Jeanne followed after him. Her orgasm seemed to take forever, exploding in bright dots in front of her eyes until he collapsed onto her. She wrapped her arms around his torso as she rode out the after-shocks, his whole body shaking against hers as nerves fired at will.
The professor rolled off her after a few seconds, panting, half keeping upright on his elbow, still trembling. He was drenched in sweat and his hair was plastered to his forehead. “I-I-I… d-d-don’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, drawing in shaky breaths to compose himself. “Are you real?”
Jeanne took his left hand in hers, pressed a kiss to it and cradled it between her breasts. She scooted closer, wrapping one hand around his waist, threading one leg between his quivering ones, keeping him on his side. She kissed his lips, deep and full, tasting the salt of his sweat on them. Then pulled back, looking into those green eyes.
“Does that feel like I’m not?”