She Always Got What She Wanted

In the hallowed halls of academia, where minds were supposed to be the only things stimulated, she was a whispered legend. Her reputation was a tantalizing blend of intellectual prowess and seductive allure. She was the professor that every student fantasized about, the woman who could make even the driest lecture on quantum physics seem erotic. And when she set her sights on me, I knew I had to play hard to get if I wanted to make her stick around.

Her name was Dr. Isabella Hartley, and she was a force of nature. Her fiery red hair and emerald green eyes were as captivating as her sharp wit and quick tongue. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. And what she wanted, it seemed, was me.

The first time she cornered me in my office, I could feel the electricity between us. Her eyes were filled with a hunger that made my heart race. "Professor," she purred, her voice low and sultry, "I've been thinking about our last lecture. I think we need to explore the subject matter a bit more... intimately."

I tried to play it cool, to maintain my professional demeanor. But the way she was looking at me, the way her fingers traced the edge of my desk, I knew I was in trouble. "Dr. Hartley," I began, my voice betraying my nerves, "I'm not sure that's appropriate."

She laughed, a sound that was both seductive and slightly mocking. "Oh, Professor," she said, her hand moving to rest on my knee, "I think you and I both know that 'appropriate' is the last thing either of us wants right now."

She was right, of course. I had fantasized about her, about the things she could do with those long, delicate fingers. I had imagined her hand wrapped around my length, her touch sending waves of pleasure through me. But I had to play hard to get, to make her work for it.

So I stood up, gently moving her hand away. "Dr. Hartley," I said, my voice firm, "I think you should leave."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and amusement. "Is that what you really want, Professor?" she asked.

I hesitated, my resolve weakening. "No," I admitted, "No, it's not."

She smiled, a slow, sultry smile that made my heart race. "Good," she said, her hand reaching for me again, "Then let's not waste any more time."

She moved closer, her body pressing against mine. I could feel the heat radiating off her, and could smell the intoxicating scent of her perfume. Her hand moved to my belt, her fingers deftly undoing the buckle. I felt my breath hitch as she pulled my pants down, her hand wrapping around my already hard length.

She started slow, her hand moving up and down in a rhythm that was both teasing and tantalizing. I could feel the pleasure building, could feel the tension coiling in my stomach. Her touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Dr. Hartley," I gasped, "I... I can't... I'm going to..."

She laughed, a sound that was both amused and aroused. "Yes, Professor," she purred, her hand moving faster, "I know. Let go. I want to feel you cum on my hand."

And I did. I let go, the pleasure exploding through me in a wave of ecstasy. I could feel my cum spilling onto her hand, could feel her fingers tightening around me as she milked every last drop.

When it was over, she pulled away, her hand glistening with my cum. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement. "I always get what I want, Professor," she said, her voice low and sultry, "And right now, I want more."

And so, our illicit affair began. We met in secret, in my office, in her car, in the back of the library. Each time, she would tease me, her hand moving in that same tantalizing rhythm. Each time, I would let go, the pleasure exploding through me in a wave of ecstasy.

But it wasn't just about the physical pleasure. In the way she looked at me, the way her eyes filled with desire and hunger. It was about the way she touched me, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin that sent shivers down my spine.

But as much as I enjoyed our secret trysts, I knew it couldn't last. We were playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before we got burned. So, I decided to end it.

The next time we met, I told her it was over. I told her that I couldn't risk my career, my reputation, for a few moments of pleasure. She looked at me, her eyes filled with disappointment and sadness. "I always get what I want, Professor," she said, "But I guess this time, I'll have to settle for second best."

And with that, she was gone. I never saw her again, never felt her touch, never heard her voice. But I never forgot her, never forgot the way she made me feel. She was a fire that burned bright and hot, a fire that left me forever changed.