After a stressful week at the hospital, Denise Marquis laid on her bed, pushing two fingers inside her pussy. It felt just right. Her husband, Raul, was coming back to town after being away for a week and she fucking missed him. She was touch starved and needed to kiss him just to decompress. 

She moaned and thought of him throwing her over the bed for a good fuck to recharge her for the coming week. 

It wasn’t only the time apart that was getting to her. It was what she had to deal with at the hospital. A couple came to the ER with ice on the crotch of the male partner. Turns out she had been too frisky for him. Then there were the other “accidents” that she had to treat during her shift. People that “fell” naked over some object that got stuck inside their anal cavity. Or some other people that pushed their dildoes up too far. 

Denise’s fingers reached over and touched the entrance of her anus. She bit her lip, just thinking that maybe Raul could push his cock inside. 

What the fuck was wrong with her, she thought to herself, pushing her middle finger inside, all those poor horny people she treated, unable to scratch a certain itch. And here she was touching herself while thinking of her husband railing her in the ass, pushing two fingers inside while her other hand played with her clit. 

Horny and with two fingers still inside, Denise turned to find her own dildo by the nightstand. Drool dripped from the corner of her mouth as she began licking and playing with the plastic phallus as if it were her husband’s. She imagined him pushing his cock inside her ass, and using the dildo, she finally guided it inside her cunt. 

She moaned with delight. 

An orgasm building up as she thrust the cock inside her while her fingers played with her ass. 

She was close. 

So close. 

She imagined two men fucking her at the same time. 

Her husband fucking her ass. 

And a tall, black man with his cock buried inside her pussy, filling her as he came. 

Her eyes burst open as she orgasmed. She exhaled in a silent scream, arching her back. Lust burning in her hands. 

She fell asleep with the dildo still buried inside her pussy and a single word on her lips. 

Master. 

——————————————

Jerome sighed exasperatedly. The book was a real puzzle. It had taken him weeks since his colleague, Dr. Olivia Warren, sent it from an expedition on the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. 

Along with the book, he received her notes detailing where and how she had come across it. 

Buried beneath a Mayan pyramid in an oak chest that had faded runes over it. 

Runes. In the Mayan peninsula. 

It had to be a joke.

But the content of the book, written in runes, didn’t make any sense until he tried to assign Mayan phonemes to it. 

It was like trying to write a novel in English using only Japanese hiragana. 

As he transcribed passages from the book to make sense of them, his phone vibrated. It was a call from the university’s dean. 

He sighed, stretched himself, and closed both the book and the notebook filled with notes. 

As he reached for the phone, an Image of the dean assaulted his mind. She was using bright red lipstick, her raven black hair falling to her shoulders, wearing an almost see-through white shirt that could showcase her firm breasts held by a purple bra. 

He banged his head on the desk. 

He needed a girlfriend. His lust was getting out of control.

He was spending so much time awake at night trying to crack the book, and the few hours he could rest, he would only get wet dreams. Whenever he tried to do something about them, it somehow only got worse, as his erections became harder and almost painful. 

He passed his fingers over his hair and tried to keep his thoughts under control as he answered the phone.

“Jerome?” The Dean said, even her voice sounded sultry in his ears. 

He shook his head again.

“Yes, Dean?” His voice broke a little. 

“Will you come into my office? I would like to ask you a favor” He could picture her taking off her glasses and bitting them, her pearl white teeth-

“Fuck,” he breathed out loud. 

“Excuse me?” She said sternly.

“Sorry,” He made it sound a bit stifled, “I just stubbed my foot on the desk,”

“Oh, I see. Well, be careful on your way here. I wouldn’t want you to damage any more of the school’s furniture on the way here.” She hung up. 

Jerome sighed. At least she was the same as always. 

Going through the hallways was difficult. He felt like his temperature was raising and he found it incredibly hard not to stare at his coworkers, or the students. It was the last day before spring break and everyone was dressed lightly. 

He took a detour to the bathroom. 

This didn’t usually happen. Sure, he had been in a dry spell for a very long time, almost three years, but he never saw his students that way. Never. 

Jerome took some water from the sink and splashed his face. He was clean shaved but the little stubs were getting scratchy. 

The cold water felt good, refreshing, and he could see himself in the mirror. His red bow tie was slightly crooked, the tweed jacket was impeccable, and his short hair was perfectly trimmed.

A student came out of the toilet. He washed his hand and looked at him through the reflection. He was wearing a lip piercing, and his short black hair contrasted with his pale complexion. 

The boy that could not be over 20 looked him up and down as water dripped from his face. He looked at Jerome and bit his lip. Then he winked at him. 

“Looking good, professor.” He said and walked out of the bathroom. Jerome felt something throb inside him as he watched the young man walk out in tight leather pants that he was sure weren’t exactly appropriate at this time of year, much less on school grounds. 

“I must be seeing things,” He told himself and splashed himself once again, taking deep breaths so that the tent in his pants would settle before leaving the restroom.

The dean’s office was the biggest in the university. It had double doors of carved oak with details of leaves and plants growing. Jerome stood before the huge door, staring at the carving and trying to keep his cool. He felt the stare of the dean’s assistant over him. It didn’t feel not like judgment but like she was scanning him. 

He nodded at her and saw her twirling her hair and biting her lip. 

He gulped. 

“Send him in,” the voice of the dean came from the intercom of the assistant. 

“You heard her, handsome.” The young woman said, and she blushed after realizing what she had just said. 

“It’s okay,” He said awkwardly, fidgeting with the doorknob, “Thank you,” Jerome nodded and rushed in. 

Inside, sunlight was coming from the wide windows that observed the center garden of the university, the wide space covered from floor to ceiling with books. 

At the center of the office, Amanda, the first female dean in the history of the university, sat reviewing a pile of papers. 

She was wearing half-moon glasses as she read. Her brown hair was tied in a bun and her breathing was calm. Jerome was glad the image in his mind was dissipating with the reality.

He approached slowly, looking at her red bow tie, the formal navy blue jacket she wore framed perfectly, her white blouse above her chest. 

“Take a seat,” she said without lifting her eyes from the documents. 

Jerome did. He felt his mouth dry. He waited. 

Amanda signed the document in front of her and placed down her pen to stare directly at Jerome’s eyes. 

“Jerome,” she said with a soft, kind voice as she rose from her seat, “I have some bad news to convey.” She stared down at her desk and took off her glasses. Closing her eyes, she clenched her fists and pulled all the strength she could muster. 

“Olivia has gone missing,” she said without looking at him. 

Jerome felt he was lost in a dream, but the punch still landed. 

“What?” He tried to gulp down, his mouth was dry. “That can’t be right. I-I- I was just reviewing the puzzle, the book she sent me-” He fell silent.

Amanda lifted her eyes and stared down the window, her silhouette framed by the dying light, “The UNAM, the University in Mexico Olivia was working with, lost contact with the expedition a week ago.” Her hands were behind her back. She tried to maintain her posture, but her fingers were fidgeting nervously. “When they sent someone to check, they only found the abandoned equipment.”

“What happened?” Jerome’s voice sounded distant to himself. 

“They don’t know. They think there might be a Cartel involved, but there was no sign of violence. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jerome felt his head swim against the current being pulled. 

“I know the two of you were close. That’s why I am telling you first.” Amanda sat in front of him on the desk. There was something wrong with the vision in front of him. 

He stared at her, and he could see the woman flustered. 

“I know you are in pain, and if you need to talk, I am here for you, whatever you need.” She leaned close to him. He could see the red lipstick. She was older than him, in her early forties, but she was as sensual as any of the co-eds that walked down the halls of the university. 

He gulped. 

Something was wrong. 

Her hair was dyed black and he could see the purple from her bra under the white blouse.

“Anything?” He whispered tentatively. 

“Anything.” She said with a sultry voice in his ear. 

He felt her warmth so close to him. A Voice inside him told him to reach out for her neck, pull her by the bow tie and kiss her. 

The dean returned the kiss, embracing him. 

His hands ran over her legs. He could feel the pantyhose beneath Amanda’s skirt. 

“Jerome!” she moaned. 

“Jerome?” the Dean called his name, touching his face. 

He felt flustered. Feverish. She was so close to him, her brown hair was tied in a bun, her glasses were hanging from her neck, the tie around her neck was a bit crooked, but still there. 

Jerome blinked several times, trying to reconcile dream and reality. He felt his throat coarse and tight. 

“Jerome, are you okay?” She touched his hand. She was wearing her normal navy blue pants. Not the pantyhose he vividly dreamed of ripping.

Amanda stared into his eyes and suddenly blushed, just like in his fantasy. She averted her eyes and let go of his hand. 

“I need to go.” Jerome stood up and rushed out of the door, leaving a flustered and confused Amanda in her office. 

Jerome ran until he turned left on the hall, back towards his office; he leaned against the wall, breathing fast and still aroused. He was shaking and one hand went over his short hair. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He chastised himself and took a deep breath, holding his head back. He heard heels walking down the corridor his way and he looked up.

A young student was wearing shorts, a tube top, and fishnets. She smiled and winked at him. Her long black hair trailed behind her. He could smell her perfume. 

A Voice whispered into his mind. 

He could reach out to her, grab her hand, pull her close and push her against the wall, he could pull down her shorts, kiss her neck while he pushed his cock between her pale ass. 

Jerome banged the back of his head against the wall before waking up from the fantasy and sprinting to his office. 

He never saw his students like that. And he was not about to start now. 

The door of his office was open. 

He slowed down and walked in carefully. 

As he turned to his desk, he saw Vivian, the girl at the top of his anthropology class. She was a nice young woman in her twenties, responsible, sensible. 

Nubile. The Voice whispered.

Jerome shook his head. 

She was sitting in his chair, barely noticing him. He didn’t remember leaving the book on the desk. Vivian was immersed in the book and taking notes in a notebook. 

“Vivian?” Jerome said softly, not wanting to break her concentration.

The young woman didn’t pay him any notice. 

“Vivian?” He repeated, getting closer and a bit louder. 

Jerome noticed she had only one hand over the desk, the other one was beneath the desk. 

Did she seem a bit flustered? 

He gulped down. 

“Vivian.” He said louder this time. 

She finally looked up, her eyes seemed distant, she blinked several times before speaking, “Professor?” she said and gave Jerome a timid smile. 

She stood up. Her left hand was between her legs, her jeans were unbuttoned, he could see her pink panties underneath. She pulled out her fingers and moaned. 

“Sorry,” she said without a trace of guilt, “I was waiting for you to review the assignment you gave us, and I found this book. It’s fascinating...” 

She brought her wet fingers to her mouth and licked them. 

“So fascinating,” she repeated, licking her lips. 

Jerome froze in place. 

Vivian was his favorite student. Diligent and intelligent, always prepared and always asking the right questions. 

And here she was, with her blouse disheveled, her nipples erect. He noticed her bra was lying on the floor. She was panting, horny, ready to be fucked, wanting to be fucked. 

The Voice was soft, seductive, like a pull around his neck that wanted him to reach her chest.

All he had to do was touch her and she would be his. 

He exhaled. Desire poured from all over his body. 

Dragging him towards her. 

Her face was so close. He could stick a finger inside her mouth, give her a taste. She would moan and kneel before him. 

He could pull out his belt and place it around her neck. It would be a good makeshift collar and leash for her until he found a proper one befitting her. 

He stifled a laugh. Vivian, the teacher’s pet.

He didn’t need to move. 

She walked towards him, willingly, he could see the desire on her face. One thumb pulled down her pants and panties by the hem. Her hips swinging with every step she took. 

“Fuck.” He exhaled, closing his fist as tight as he could, digging his nails into the skin so hard he began to bleed. It hurt. It woke him up.

“No.” He said out loud and opened the door. 

Vivian cocked her head to the side, unable to register the word. “No?” she said, sliding one hand over her pelvis. She pulled down the rim of her pink panties and showed him her blond pubes. 

Jerome closed his eyes and stilled himself. 

“NO!” His Voice echoed through the office. He took her by the wrist. She moaned loudly. He felt something tighten around his chest. He pulled her towards the door and pushed her out of the office before locking the door. 

Vivian woke up and noticed the state she was in. She hugged herself and pulled her jeans up, buttoning them. 

He could hear her from behind the door, “Sorry Professor, this was a mistake,” her voice was croaking. Was she crying?

He could hear her steps as she ran down the hallway. 

He leaned on the door and banged his head on it.

“What the fuck is wrong with me today?” Jerome walked back to his desk and laid down on it. 

He could feel his cock straining against his pants and didn’t seem like the erection would subside anytime soon. 

He groaned and checked the notes she was taking. He smiled. 

Such a smart girl. 

He felt tired. It had been a long day. He thought of Olivia, of the Dean, of the boy in the restroom. He wondered what his cock looked like. 

His hand tried to fix the uncomfortable feeling of his cock straining under his pants. Then he laid down on the desk, taking a few deep breaths. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Sleep and not think about Vivian’s blond pubes nor her cute mouth against-

“Fuck,” He groaned and drifted off, unable to control his dreams.