Professor Hutchins tidied up his desk as the students exited his classroom, their murmur growing thankfully more distant as the moments passed. “Finally,” he sighed to no one in particular. His week had been a doozy, as the Department was short-staffed and he was required to grade not only his own classes’ mid-semester exams, but also pitch in and grade other professors’ students as well. It was an all-hands effort, with zero extra pay, and he was starting to resent his choice to enter academia with its interminable busywork and unappreciative students.

Once he was satisfied he was alone, he opened his top right drawer and pulled out a small metal flask of pure relief. He unscrewed the top and took a large mouthful of sweet scotch, swishing it around like mouth rinse, and allowed it to plunge down his throat in a fiery stream. “Aaaahh,”, he thought, “this is better than sex.”

“Can I have some?” Professor Hutchins practically choked as he heard the inquiry come from near the doorway. His face flushed from a combination of the scotch and shock as he saw Tracy standing there, looking unsure of herself, but with a devilishly playful grin nonetheless. He was momentarily dumbfounded and speechless, but then tried to gather his wits and say something sensible. He did not succeed, instead having a serious lapse in professional judgment and nodding an invitation for his student to come share a drink.

Tracy was unbelievably hot, and flaunted her body constantly. She was of average performance in her studies, but was a genius in knowing how to wear exactly the right outfit that accentuated her ample curves and provided instant erections to all nearby men. Professor Hutchins often found himself straining to avoid having his eyes dart towards her short, tight skirts, which always managed to show plenty of her plump, velvet thighs, or her tight blouses which revealed generous hints of creamy white, inflated breasts. Now this angel was walking towards him, and his heart beat hard as he realized in a moment he would be party to an act that could get him barred from teaching forever. He knew why she was here, and he decided that he was going to let her have it, that he earned this moment for all those years of toil as a teacher and loyalty as a husband in a completely unfulfilling marriage.

Tracy grabbed the scotch from him, and took a generous gulp. Some of the liquid dribbled from her slightly open lips and splashed right into her cleavage. Her tongue flicked around the tip of the flask, licking every drop of the spilled liquid and then sucking on it seductively. She unbuttoned her blouse, and leaned over for Professor Hutchins to have a lick of scotch off her huge breasts. It was the moment of truth for him…he could end this now, or delve headlong into a fantasy that every red-blooded man in the world would consider throwing away a career and a marriage for.

He hesitated…then plunged face first into those glorious fat breasts, eating and breathing scotch, bra, shirts and nipples like an animal. Tracy moaned and strode on top of him, gyrating on top of his now rock-solid cock through his pants. A primal beast awoke in Professor Hutchin’s soul as he ripped his student’s blouse and bra completely off, then pushed her off and bent her over his desk. He lifted her skirt and drove his face deep inside her crack, first licking her clitoris, and then putting his tongue deep inside her vagina. He rocked his head back and forth to meet Tracy’s orgasmic motion until she tightened up her body and climaxed which a high pitched squeal.

Professor Hutchins did not care who heard; he did not care if a news crew showed up and his exploits were featured on the evening news. This was worth it. It was worth all fifty years of a mediocre life he led, filled with frustration, disillusion and disappointment. For one glorious moment, actually, for the first moment in his entire life, he was a MAN—pure, primal man.

Tracy pivoted and reached right for his zipper. She pulled out his swollen member and sloppily sucked on his fat, throbbing cock. The professor relished the glorious vision of having the most beautiful girl he had ever seen give him head. He could not wait any longer, and stood her up and placed her on the desk again. He plunged his cock deep inside her and stabbed her with his penis over and over and over. Papers and pens fell off the desk and the desk moved forward with each thrust. Finally, he could hold himself back no longer, and pulled out just in time to shoot his hot fluid all over Tracy’s face, breasts, and stomach.

He was exhausted. Tracy was a disheveled mess. She got dressed as Professor Hutchins tidied up his desk. She turned to leave, but first placed a wet, erotic kiss on his lips, and said “Do you think I can have another drink tomorrow?” He smiled and nodded. As she left, Professor Hutchins sighed the deep sigh of a man who has turned a corner in his life and knows that his formerly mundane life was now awash in new possibilities.

Sarah rolls onto her back, pulling the blanket up, tucking it tightly under her chin in her effort to seal out the cool, winter breeze coming through her dorm room window. She doesn’t get up to shut the window because that would mean leaving Kris’s warm body, which is pressed up against her right side, as Kris lays, also on her back, blankets tight under her chin. Sarah lies there, quietly listening to the soft sound of Kris’s breathing. Awake now, and thinking sexual thoughts, Sarah slowly moves her hand away from the blanket, down her own body, drifting lightly over her cold-hardened nipples, to her waste, then across the bed to the warm thigh pressing up against her own.

As Sarah’s hand floats easily across Kris’s thigh, a low moan escapes from her lover, indicating that Kris is at least partially awake. Slowly, Sarah works her hand, palm flat, across Kris’s thigh, then down towards her knee, then slowly back up. Sarah knows just how to slowly stir Kris’s desires, how to turn a light, comforting touch into that delicious tension that is endlessly pleasant to finally release. As Sarah’s hand continues her trip, now returning back up the leg, inching slowly closer to the inside of Kris’s thigh, working under the light pajama shorts that Kris wears, Sarah starts to hear more moans coming from the other woman – increasingly alert moans, increasingly sensual sounds.

Sarah continues her caresses, and Kris’s moans deepen. Sarah closes her eyes and smiles, satisfied that her advance is welcome, even in the middle of the night. With renewed vigor, permission now wordlessly granted, Sarah flips over onto her side so that she is facing her love, hovering above her. Gently, Sarah brings her hand up to tangle in the soft curls between Kris’s legs. With a light, gentle touch, Sarah plays in the field of curls, teasing, touching, and enjoying herself.

Sarah’s fingers move slowly over Kris’s warmest spot, occasionally tangling in the fine, brown curls, then scratching lightly, finally smoothing over them, alternating between various touches and intensities. Kris continues to lay still, eyes closed, but she begins releasing more and more of those soft little moans. As Sarah feels Kris’s wetness begin to escape the confines of her curls, the moisture between her own legs increases as well – Sarah can barely take any more of this quiet, still love making. Firmly, Sarah parts Kris’s folds, and slips her finger inside of her. A much louder groan escapes Kris’s lips, and this time she pushes her hips forward to meet Sarah’s hand. Slowly, Sarah’s thumb moves up through the slick folds of skin, steadily reaching for the little bump that she knows is eager to be touched. As Sarah’s thumb glides over Kris’s most sensitive spot, Kris bucks once uncontrollably. Sarah sighs, glad to have found her goal, and then carefully begins messaging it slowly, firmly.

As her fingers move in and out of Kris’s slick walls, her thumb carefully caresses her special spot. Kris begins to move more, pushing her hips to press herself against Sarah’s hand, moaning and moving her head from side to side, lost in the oblivion of Sarah’s touch. Finally, suddenly, Kris reaches her climax, raising her head and shoulders off of the bed, shuddering as Sarah works her through wave after wave of pleasure, gently guiding her down and back to the bed.

“Mmmm. Good morning,” Kris manages as she continues to concentrate on breathing. Sarah smiles, “it’s not morning. It’s like…” she cranes her neck to see the clock then continues, “it’s 3am.” Kris slowly opens her eyes, breathing more normally now, she glances at the clock. “Hmmmm,” Kris begins, then pulling herself up she leans over Sarah, pushing Sarah onto her back and into the blankets. “Now that I’m up,” Kris continues, but instead of finishing her thought she leans in and kisses Sarah gently, but firmly, on the lips. Sarah smiles into Kris’s lips, as Kris’s hand begins to roam down Sarah’s body.

Erica grabbed her Oyster card, and after giving her lean figure and dark features a final once-over, ran to the bus stop just in time to board.

It was crowded, and as she pushed her way to the back, she saw him. Their eyes met as his quick smile turned into a playful, openly interested stare. There were no seats available and the only open standing room was directly in front of him. Erica licked her lips and after a short pause, edged closer. As she approached, she turned and grabbed the safety handle above her head. She waited.

With her back to him, she bit her lower lip, closed her eyes and inched even closer, close enough to feel his body heat from where he sat behind her. She was wearing a skirt; the sensitive skin on the backs of her knees tingled with anticipation as he casually brushed her left calf with the tips of his fingers. It was just soft enough to have been an accident, but filled with unmistakable intent.

She could feel her skin cooling from the thin layer of perspiration that had quickly covered her neck, chest and legs. Her nipples grew hard against her thin t-shirt, and just as she thought it would never happen, she felt his warm hand circle her right ankle, pulling it toward him until it met the hard, cold metal of the seat he was perched on. Erica gasped quietly, glancing nervously around the bus to find everyone else but her lost in thought, music, or the passing scenery.

The eager hand that gripped her ankle began to rise along the soft curve of her slender calf until it rested against the tender skin just above the back of her knee. He paused, waiting for a protest; waiting for any reaction at all. When he received none, he slid his hand further until his finger tips rested just under the seam of her short skirt where he spread his fingers, grinning at the dampness of her skin.

Erica arched her back slightly, gripping the safety handle a little tighter, holding her breath as the bus continued on its route, stopping every few minutes to unload passengers while others took their places in the cramped, humid summer heat.

Erica felt herself growing wet, the ache building deep inside her pussy, the longing to be touched, licked, penetrated. She boldly slid her left foot back until it was pressed firmly against the seat between his muscular legs, standing over him, straddling him, giving him a somewhat concealed access to whatever he wanted.

His heart raced at her sudden invitation and he felt his cock begin to throb and strain against his jeans. Even as his hands made their way up along her warm inner thighs, his eyes continually roamed the parts of her shapely body that in this public place, he could not yet touch. With his right hand resting just below the gentle curve of her right buttock, he could feel the lacy edge of her pink panties; panties he fully intended on taking home with him. His left hand continued up the inner thigh of her right leg until fingertips met warm, moist, silky fabric. He could smell her now, he longed to taste her. The musky scent of her wet pussy made his mouth water and his pulse race at the thought of sliding his tongue between her swollen, wet lips.

Erica reached up to grip the safety handle with both hands. She could feel his dark eyes all over her, his hot breath against her lower back. His fingers paused, not with hesitation, but with anticipation. In one quick movement, he grasped her panties by the crotch and pulled them to her ankles. She shifted slightly and in seconds, they were safely tucked into the right pocket of his jeans just as another passenger glanced in their direction, her attention caught by his sudden movement.

They both froze as her eyes lingered over the two of them, sensing that something was amiss. Maybe it was their proximity or their rigid postures, but her curious gaze turned slightly suspicious and Erica stepped forward just enough to break the spell.

She reluctantly released the safety bar and as she began to walk away, he took a firm hold of her left wrist and pushed something into her hand. She pulled the chain to signal to the driver that her stop was approaching, and exited the bus without even a glance back. Shaking slightly, her legs feeling weak and unreliable under the weight of what just happened, she stood for moment, listening to the bus pull away from the curb when she remembered the piece of paper in her hand.

She opened it, smiling at what he had written.

“Tomorrow, the Number 16, Edgeware Road 12:30pm. No Panties.”