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I was standing in the airport lobby, checking my phone periodically to make sure Tricia’s flight was on schedule. I couldn’t wait to see her. It had been so long. The last time we spoke in person was a year ago, when I went to see her in her office at school before I left to go to Cornell to get my master’s. I knew from the first moment I saw her that I was in love. I was a bright-eyed freshman and she was my history professor. I came in late on the first day of class and the only seat available was in the front row, right in front of her desk. I mumbled “sorry,” as I passed her on that first day. She was already up front speaking to the class. I sat down and looked at her for the first time. She had medium length, light brown hair that was crinkled and wavy. Her skin was fair and clear; her eyes a pure powder blue. They sparkled when she talked about history.
She was wearing a blue patterned dress and a white sweater that modestly covered her slim figure. I couldn’t help but think about how our bodies would look entwined… her fair skin and my tanned complexion combining; our breasts pressed against each other as we kissed passionately. It was all I could do to take notes. After class, I apologized for being late, and her melodic voice assured me that it was okay. The rest of the class always rushed out the door, but I purposefully lagged behind, slowly packing my backpack while she logged off of the computer and gathered her own things. We spoke every day after class and developed a relationship that first semester that extended throughout my school career and beyond.
My head was swirling with all of these thoughts as I glanced at the time on my phone, still waiting for her to walk through that gate. I tried to calm myself. Every time I thought about her, I got butterflies in my stomach and my mouth went dry. I tried not to smile to myself like an idiot. I couldn’t let her know how I felt—not yet. In her eyes, I was nothing more than a friend. A former student that kept in touch, was all. After all, she was married to a great man. She had two kids. What would she want with me?
Or maybe there was more. As the semesters progressed, we shared thoughts and feelings; she held me when I cried over my brother’s death and I did the same for her when her father died my senior year. We shared our dreams and ambitions. She was always very careful not to cross that line—the one that separated us as professor and student. I only got a small handful of hugs from her during my school career, but I relished every one. She was tall (probably 5’10 to my 5’7) and her breasts would press against my upper chest when we embraced.
I jerked back to reality when my phone buzzed in my hand. It was her! I unlocked the screen and read the message.
“Just landed. Are you here?”
I replied that I was waiting in the lobby. My palms were sweating, and wetness had started to pool in my panties. Not now!
After waiting a few more minutes and pacing back and forth, I saw a crowd of people start to exit from her gate. I scanned the faces and saw her toward the back of the group. At thirty nine years old, she was just as beautiful as I remembered. I could see her scanning the crowd—she hadn’t seen me yet. She locked eyes with me and I waved sheepishly. She had the brightest, most beautiful smile and I know I was grinning like a nerd when she came over to me. She threw down her bags and gave me a big bear hug.
“Amanda! I’m so glad to see you! Thank you so much for inviting me to your silivri escort conference.”
Yes, the conference. That’s how I got her here. One of her favorite historians taught at Cornell and was speaking at a conference on campus. It just so happened that it coincided with Tricia’s spring break. I hugged her back, hard.
“I missed you so much! Thanks for coming! I’m parked outside. Let me get your bags.”
I helped her carry her bags out to my car and as I drove to my apartment we talked about school, work, and family. I carried her bags once more up the stairs to my apartment and let her in. It was a small apartment with one bedroom, a small kitchenette, and a surprisingly large bathroom. I told Tricia to make herself at home while I got dinner started. I made pasta with white wine sauce and salad. I got two wine glasses and brought the bottle and two plates of food into the living room. We sat on the couch for a couple of hours, talking, laughing, and drinking. After a few glasses of wine, we were both getting a little tipsy. Tricia asked if I had a boyfriend.
“No… I just broke up with someone, actually. It wasn’t working out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. He’s missing out.”
“Um… it was a ‘she,’ actually.”
I looked down, embarrassed. I had never told anyone I was bisexual, at least not anyone I knew from back home. My family was extremely religious and they would disown me if they knew. Tricia had a more relaxed view and I knew she wouldn’t think less of me. I don’t know why, but I started to tear up.
“Oh, sweet girl, come here.”
She pulled me close and stroked my hair while I silently cried. I wasn’t crying about my ex. I wasn’t even crying about admitting my sexuality. I was crying because I wanted her so badly, so desperately, and I knew I would never have her. It wasn’t just physical. I loved her as a person with all my heart.
She softly murmured sweet, supportive things to me as I calmed down and I felt like a child. I sat up on the couch and apologized.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She was looking into my soul with those beautiful blue eyes and I almost said ‘no.’ But then I thought, This could be my opportunity. This is it. I told her about how I realized I was bisexual when I was in my early twenties and didn’t dare act on it at home. When I moved to Ithaca, I experimented with women. She looked a little uncomfortable and I jokingly asked for any questions or comments.
“What is it like? Is it weird to have sex with a woman?”
I laughed and said, “It was at first, but with that experience, I gained a whole new perspective. It was like, for the first time, I was really seeing myself; and for the first time, I felt beautiful.”
She was watching me in awe with a look in her eyes that I had never seen before. She looked away, toward the wall.
“I don’t know if I could do that. It’s been hard enough being in a sexless marriage with the man I’ve loved for fourteen years.” Her eyes widened and she looked at me, startled.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay, Tricia. You can talk to me.”
She broke down and it was my turn to hold her. I reminded her that she was a smart, kind, beautiful woman and if her husband didn’t appreciate that, it was his problem. We were sitting so close on the couch that we were almost on top of each other. She started to sit up and I let her go. She reached for her wine and took a big swig and then, she şirinevler escort kissed me.
It was only for a moment, but she kissed me and then drew back.
“I’m sorry, Amanda. Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what just happened. I’m so sorry.”
I took her wine glass and put it on the table, took her flawless face in my hands, and I kissed her back, fuller and deeper than any kiss I’d ever had in my life. She started to reciprocate; her mouth slowly opening in response to my tongue flicking at her lips. Her tongue traced my bottom lip and we stayed like that for a few minutes, making out like teenagers, until we broke apart, breathless.
“Wow,” Tricia exclaimed, “I’ve never been kissed like that.” We both giggled nervously. “What now?” she asked.
“Whatever you want to do. I don’t want to pressure you.”
She took my hand, pulled me up off the couch, and kissed me again.
“You never gave me a tour of your apartment. Let’s start in the bedroom.”
She smiled wickedly. I was stunned—I had never seen this side of her before, but I definitely liked it. My clit jumped in anticipation and I could feel my pussy gushing. She was still holding my hand, and I pulled her to the bedroom and kissed her once more. As we stood at the foot of the bed, I couldn’t help but think about my fantasy in my freshman history class. It was finally coming true. As we kissed, my hands tangled in her hair and trailed down her back. I rested my hands on the small of her back and pulled her towards me, tighter. Her hands echoed my movements, and I could feel her nerves. She was trembling lightly. I prayed with all my might that she wouldn’t back down at the last minute. I skimmed my fingers along the hemline of her shirt and rested my hands on her hips where her tight jeans were begging to be stripped. I pushed her shirt up, revealing a lacy black bra binding her small, delicate b cups. She did the same to me. My large ‘c’s were almost bursting out of my light blue bra. I was so glad I had worn a matching lingerie set. My mouth moved from her lips to her neck, slowly kissing, licking, and lightly biting her neck and chest. I skipped over her breasts for the moment and moved to her stomach. Her breath caught when I licked just below her belly button and reached for the zipper of her jeans. I popped the button and pulled her jeans down and pushed her onto the bed. I pulled the jeans off of her feet and stood over her, taking in her beauty.
Her black panties matched her bra perfectly, and her knees were bent, but firmly together. My eyes traveled down her legs to her covered slit, where a wet patch was forming. She was excited. I slid out of my own pants and got beside her in bed. We kissed once more and I looked into her eyes.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
With that affirmation, I unhooked her bra and started kissing her neck again. I trailed down to her chest and took one nipple in my mouth. She groaned and arched her back, and I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Her breasts were perfect—just a small handful with puffy pink nipples perfectly centered. I licked over the nipple in my mouth as I teased the other with my fingers. They both hardened as a wave of goosebumps appeared over her chest. My mouth moved from her left breast to her right and from there, to her stomach once more. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her panties and looked at her for affirmation şişli escort once more. Her eyes were closed and she moaned, “please…”
I pulled her panties down to her ankles and over her feet. Her sweet aroma greeted me and it was all I could do not do dive in right that moment. Her pubic hair was trimmed nicely and was the same honey brown as her hair. I kissed her thighs one at a time, and trailed my tongue down each one, mercilessly teasing her until she groaned and tried to wiggle her hips so that my tongue would make contact with her burning cunt.
“Uh, uh. Not yet.” I teased.
“You are so mean!” She grinned and moved her hips once more. I had a wicked idea.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Tricia, what do you want me to do?”
She hesitated. “I want you to give me oral sex,” she said, matter of factly.
I chuckled. “Really? How do I do that?”
“Ugh. Don’t make me say it, Amanda.”
“Say it. Say it like you mean it.”
“I want you to… lick my pussy and make me cum!” Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was blushing from head to toe.
My clit was swollen and throbbing. I had never been so horny in my life. My sweet little history professor just told me to eat her cunt and make her cum.
I’ve always been one to follow directions.
I started at the base of her pussy and trailed my tongue upward toward her clit. I got a mouthful of pussy juice and I drank it down like I was dying of thirst. I alternated tongue fucking her and flicking her clit with the tip of my tongue. After a few minutes of this, I decided to go straight for the clit. I sucked her whole clit into my mouth and flicked it with my tongue simultaneously. She was screaming and thrusting her pussy at me.
“Oh my god! Yes! Fuck! That feels so good, Amanda. Don’t stop! Oh god, don’t stop! I’m going to cum. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. FUCK!”
A wave of pussy juice rushed down my chin and I lightly licked her clit until her spasms stopped. She pulled me up to her and kissed me, no doubt tasting her own juices in my mouth.
“That was amazing! I want to do that to you. Please let me.”
Her eyes were starting to close and I could tell she was fading fast.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I said, “Go to sleep now.”
I got out of bed and slipped into a tee shirt to sleep in. I curled up next to her perfect naked body and covered us both with the sheet and comforter. I was almost asleep when I felt Tricia’s fingers skimming down my tee shirt. She started massaging my breasts through the shirt and I groaned. She was cuddled up next to me, her face inches from mine.
“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” she whispered.
She found my pussy and started fingering my clit with her long, pretty fingers. I squirmed and moaned. In my haste to please her, I had forgotten about my own burning need. I spread my legs and she started kissing my jawline as two fingers swirled around my clit. I jumped when those same two fingers hovered over my opening and started pumping in and out of my pussy. I was on fire. She focused her attention on my clit once more and I knew I was getting close.
“Mmmmm. Fuck.” My breathing was ragged and my hips were jerking uncontrollably. I lost it.
She moaned with me as I came and kissed me passionately. Her fingers moved from my pussy and I felt movement under the blanket. I opened my eyes and saw that her own legs were spread, and that she was fingering her own pussy with the remnants of my cum. It was amazingly hot. I laid back and watched as she masturbated and watched her body writhe as she came for the second time that night. She drew her hand out from under the covers and licked our cum off her fingers as I watched, never breaking eye contact with me. We fell asleep that night curled up together and I had never been more content.
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