MidReal Story
I am dating my teacher. NSFW.
Scenario: I am dating my teacher. NSFW.
Create my version of this story
I was sitting in the back row of my literature class, my heart racing with anticipation. The professor, a tall, dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties, paced the room as she lectured about the works of Shakespeare. Little did my classmates know, this woman was not only my professor but also my secret lover.
As she spoke, I couldn't help but think about our scandalous trysts. The way her eyes would light up with desire as she reached for me, the way her lips tasted of sweet wine when we kissed. Even in the midst of her lecture, I could feel my body responding, my pulse quickening as I imagined her hands on me.
After class, I approached her desk, my heart pounding in my chest. She looked up, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and I knew that she, too, was thinking about our forbidden rendezvous.
We arranged to meet at her place after class, and I hurried home to prepare. I showered and shaved, dressing carefully in a silk blouse and a tight skirt. I wanted to look my best for her.
When I arrived at her apartment, she greeted me at the door, her eyes smoldering with desire. She pulled me inside, and the moment the door closed, we were on each other. Our hands roamed over each other's bodies, our mouths devouring each other as if we couldn't get enough.
Her lips moved to my neck, her teeth grazing my sensitive skin. I moaned softly, feeling my body responding to her touch. She led me to the bedroom, where we continued our passionate embrace.
She began to unbutton my blouse, her fingers trailing slowly down my chest. When she reached my breasts, she paused, looking into my eyes as she cupped them in her hands. I gasped as she lowered her head, taking one hardened nipple into her mouth.
I arched my back, my body trembling with desire. She continued to tease and suckle my breasts, her hands moving to my thighs. She traced the outline of my panties, teasing me until I was panting with need.
With a wicked smile, she hooked her fingers into the waistband, slowly pulling them down. I stepped out of them, my heart racing as she spread my legs and gazed at my glistening center.
"You're so wet for me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. I nodded, unable to speak. She leaned forward, her tongue darting out to taste me. I moaned softly, my hands gripping the sheets as she explored me with her tongue.
She licked and teased, her tongue swirling around my sensitive bud. I writhed beneath her touch, my body trembling with pleasure. She knew exactly how to touch me to bring me to the edge, and she did so with expert skill.
As I neared my peak, I cried out, my body arching as the pleasure washed over me. She held me close, whispering soft words of encouragement as I came down from my climax.
We lay together, our bodies entwined, as we caught our breath. I knew that this secret affair between us was dangerous, but I couldn't help but crave her touch.
On the drive back to my apartment, my mind was consumed with thoughts of our passionate encounter. The way her hands had roamed over my body, the way her lips had tasted my skin, the way her tongue had brought me to the brink of ecstasy.
I couldn't wait to see her again, to feel her touch, to taste her desire. I knew that we couldn't continue indefinitely, but for now, the thrill of our secret affair was too intoxicating to resist.
As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't help but touch myself, replaying the events of the evening in my mind. I imagined her lips on my neck, her fingers on my thighs, her tongue on my most sensitive parts. I moaned softly, my body responding to the memories of our passionate encounter.
I slid my hand down my body, slipping my fingers beneath my panties. I was already wet, my body craving release. I began to stroke myself, picturing her face as I did so.
I imagined her watching me, her eyes smoldering with desire as she saw me touch myself. I imagined her hands on my body, her fingers joining mine as we brought each other to the brink of pleasure.
I increased the pace of my strokes, my breathing becoming more ragged. I moaned softly, my body trembling with desire. I imagined her whispering my name, her voice low and husky as she watched me fall apart.
As I reached my peak, I cried out her name, my body shaking with pleasure. I lay there, panting, as the aftershocks washed over me. I knew that I would never forget this moment, or the woman who had inspired it.
The next day, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. I couldn't wait to see her again, to feel her touch, to taste her desire. I knew that our affair was dangerous, but I couldn't help but crave her.
I arrived at class early, hoping to catch a glimpse of her before the lecture began. She was already there, her eyes scanning the room as she prepared for the day's lesson.
As she began to speak, I couldn't help but zone out, my mind consumed with thoughts of her. I imagined her naked body, her curves and contours, her most intimate parts. I imagined the way she would look at me as she touched me, as she tasted me, as she brought me to the brink of pleasure.
I knew that our secret meetings would continue, feeding our forbidden passion. And as I sat there, in the back row of the classroom, I couldn't help but wonder what our next rendezvous would bring. Would we be more adventurous, more daring? Would we explore new pleasures, new desires, together?
As the lecture came to an end, I approached her desk, my heart pounding in my chest. She looked up, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and I knew that she, too, was thinking about our forbidden trysts.
