How every year, ending the same, the usual reunions of former students start to take place. My college is not an exception, a legendary institution in San Justo that I won't name for obvious reasons.
It's already a tradition for the 1998 promotion to meet at the College's facilities during the last week of November to evoke those times when the world still seemed vast and inscrutable to us.
In my case, I don't attend every year, but this time my husband would be traveling, so I thought it would be nice to reunite once more with those who had formed part of my adolescence.
I won't go into too much detail about the reunion itself, as it's always the same: food, dance, drink, and those anecdotes that although we tell them hundreds of times still provoke the same delight as if they had happened yesterday.
After chatting until we were tired with my group of friends, especially Vale and Jose, whom I never lost contact with, I danced for a bit with Fede, just one song since his wife was there, then reunited with Juanjo, who had returned from Spain ready to settle back in the country.
-What a great moment you chose to come back-I joked in obvious allusion to the crisis that's been affecting us.
-It's now or never, and honestly, seeing you like this doesn't make me regret it-
We were dancing to Believe by Cher, one of those hits from that era, and although it's a moved theme, we were sticking together more and more.
There was no clique between us at the College; he preferred the more outgoing girls, and I, once I started hanging out with my uncle Carlos, stopped paying attention to boys my age. But now, with years and maturity on our side, I felt we had a new opportunity. After all, who hasn't left one of those parties with an ex-classmate?
As for me, I still hadn't crossed that line, although I knew firsthand that both Vale and Jose, my two best friends from those years, thanks to those meetings, they had remembered old loves from high school.
And the truth is that I would have gone with Juanjo if it weren't because, amidst cheers and hurrahs, our old History teacher appeared, who we didn't expect, since he had lost his wife in the middle of the year after a long and cruel illness. Professor Augusto M., although no longer exercising as such at the college, was a regular attendee of those meetings and one of its main animators, but knowing about his recent loss, we didn't have much hope that he would come, but there he was. Disheartened, clearly, and much more worn out than in previous years, with that aura that widowhood leaves on you.
After everyone greeted him and gave him the usual condolences, I approached him with two cups in my hand.
-It's great to see you, prof- I said, inviting him a drink.
-I hope this year has improved the choice of drink- he nodded, taking a sip.
-This is a Malbec from Mendoza, from one of the wineries that my husband works with, I brought the bottles myself-
-Very good choice by your husband, Valle, please pass along my congratulations- he replied, savoring the wine like a true connoisseur.
Despite the years gone by, the Professor didn't lose the habit of calling us by our last names. Mine isn't Valle, but I'll use it to make the story more faithful.
-Well, I've greeted everyone, so I'm leaving, next year I'll stay longer-
He leaves, trying to distance himself from the revelry that doesn't match his life moment, but before he reaches the exit door, I catch up to him with my bag in hand.
-Prof, I'd like to accompany you-
-There's no need, Valle, stay and keep enjoying the party-
-The truth is that this year is a bit boring, we need your speeches, besides... I already ordered a taxi-
He had no other choice but to accept. When the taxi arrives he opens the door for me, like a true gentleman, and at the moment of getting in doesn't miss the tremendous gaze he throws at my legs. I'm wearing a mini skirt so when I move to the other seat, he manages to perceive not only the smoothness of my thighs but even the color of my thong.
-You first, prof- I say alluding to the journey we're about to embark on.
He indicates his direction to the driver and off we go. During the trip, we start talking animatedly, remembering those high school days. Professor Augusto was like a Felipe Pigna, teaching us the real part of the heroes and not what's written in bronze. We used to pass over official textbooks since he recommended reading authors such as Félix Luna, Estanislao Zevallos, Sarmiento or Mitre. He'd say that only by reading those who had been part of it would we understand our History better.
It was fascinating to listen to his lectures about the crossing of the Andes, the battle of San Lorenzo or the liberation of Peru. Practically, he transported us back to that time when everything was yet to be done.
When we arrive, after a trip that seemed too short, he gets off and tries to say goodbye, but is surprised to realize I get off with him.
-Do you invite me to take a drink, prof?- I ask after paying the fare and saying goodbye to the taxi driver.
-Don't you have to go home?- he's surprised by my proposal.
-Today is my free night, no time limit- I confirm with a smile overflowing with mischief.
-If that's the case, then let's take a drink, although I warn you that what I have isn't up to the level of wine you brought to the meeting-
-Whatever you have will be fine-
We enter the building and while we're going up in the elevator, I receive a message from one of my friends:
Where did you go? Juanjo is looking for you desperately, look out or else I'll take him
Tell him to keep going and enjoy it, then tell me about it, I respond.
I lower the volume on notifications and put away my phone since I'm sure that it's going to start sending me messages to find out who I left with. -The girls, I didn't tell them I was leaving- I say about the message. -You're in time to turn back- he warns me. -I'm where I want to be, prof- I confirm just when the elevator reaches the eighth floor. We get off, cross the hallway and enter apartment D marked with the letter D. -Sit down, I'll serve you something I take every time I want to relax a bit- he indicates. I settle into the sofa while he approaches a small cabinet that serves as a bar and pours two glasses. He hands me one and sits in a chair in front of me. We toast and drink a sip. -It's not bad- I say, remembering the previous warning he had given me about it. -This is what I have, since my wife... well, to be honest, I haven't gone out shopping too much lately- -Do you have music, prof?- I ask trying to get him away from that topic as soon as possible. -I have some records, but I don't think it's the kind of music you'd like to listen to- If I remember correctly, Professor Augusto was a great fan of tango. So he was right, it wasn't the kind of music suitable for that moment. -Don't worry...- I say, taking out my phone and putting one of my Spotify playlists on. I leave the phone on the armrest of the chair, take another sip of my glass, and looking at him in a way that transcends any linguistic barrier, I say: -Professor, why don't you come and sit next to me?- I think the professor already knew where things were going, he's a big guy with experience, although I also think that, in some way, despite the years having passed, he still saw me as his student. Which, somehow, prevented him from pouncing on me and doing everything, having me there like that. He takes a longer sip, gets up and sits next to me, but not too close. It's me who moves closer. -I was looking forward to seeing you, prof- I confess. -Okay, I also... to all, that's why I came. -But I wanted to see you, just you- I clarify, supporting him, as a confirmation, with a hand on his thigh.
Although it seems he is sweating profusely, he doesn't move or try to get up.
-Mariela...- now he calls me by my name, trying to distance himself, perhaps, from the image he had of me as a student -Think about your husband, your son, I'm already an old man-
-I think about my husband and my son, but they're at home and I'm here with you, an old man I love- I reply intensifying the caresses on his thigh.
I can already feel the tension and bulge in that part of his body. Despite being my professor, at that moment we are a man and a woman, eager for sex, luxury, and loss of control.
When it seems he's not going to resist anymore, I grab his package and squeeze it, noticing a more than important hardness. I get even closer, without letting go, and kiss him on the mouth. In the exact instant when our tongues make contact, I feel like the bulge gives a jolt.
Always with the greatest tact possible, I unbutton his pants, lower the zipper, and pull out his cock outside. Nothing out of the ordinary, but let's say that at the moment I was in, so anxious and desperate, I wasn't exactly demanding.
Kissing him more enthusiastically, he starts to get hard, feeling like my hand is getting wet with pre-seminal liquid. Then I lie down on the floor between his legs, pulling all his skin towards me, and give him a kiss at the tip. He lifts his head, and when he sees that I'm looking at him with my eyes closed, happily humming, I start to kiss him also on the sides.
-Did you ever fantasize about one of your students sucking your cock?- I ask while putting it in my mouth and starting to suck it with delightful pleasure. below.
No he answers, but the sighs and expressions of pleasure, are enough for me. I get up and start undressing in front of him. The mini dress, blouse, briefs, corset. His eyes scan my nakedness from top to bottom. He says nothing but his gaze betrays his fascination.
I separate my legs, climb on top of him, and holding his cock, position myself at the entrance of the pussy. I like feeling that first touch, before penetration, the moment preceding the consumption of our desires.
I go in slowly, injecting his virility piece by piece, feeling how our parts fit together perfectly.
I stay there for a moment, enjoying that rabid pulsation, after which I start moving, like rocking back and forth, filling myself with the professor's cock, which is now with its eyes rolled back, in ecstatic trance. Then he grabs my waist and starts moving himself, pushing his body against mine. Receiving each of his thrusts, I refresh his tits all over his face, so that he can suck them, bite them or do whatever he wants with them.
We incline towards the side, without stopping to shake ourselves, resting on the armrest of the sofa, giving ourselves a wild and frenzied massage.
Suddenly I feel him filling me up with cum. I'm not done yet, but he's already in orgasm. When he realizes what's happening, he looks at me like he's startled.
Don't worry, professor, just relax, everything is fine... I calm him down, squeezing myself even tighter against his balls.
As he finishes inside me, I stimulate my clitoris, accompanying him in that pleasure that barely serves as an appetizer for a night that promises to be epic.
I get up, with cum dripping between my legs, and curl up beside him, sweet and caramelized.
After emptying himself, the professor's cock becomes small, nothing like the powerful missile he just used to blow me away.
He gets up, grabs the bottle, two glasses, and invites me to go to bed. We enter his room, we lie down and after a new toast, we get tangled up in a long session of kisses and blowjobs.
I'm slowly pushing his head downwards until he realizes what I want and goes down on his own.
He sucks my breasts, belly button, licks my stomach and when he reaches my most intimate area, he puts his tongue in like it's a shovel.
I have to admit that I never imagined Professor Augusto between my legs, but when I see him there and especially when I feel him, I couldn't imagine him anywhere else.
The prof has an intellectual beard, of the type that is now all gray, with which he scrapes me in that area, giving me delicious tickles.
In a state of delirium, with my pussy so wet I can't take it anymore, I make him get on top and while I'm licking his mouth, savoring between his lips my own essence, I grab his cock from underneath and put it between the gills.
He's not yet at its peak, so I start to tease it and rub it against the clitoris, so he doesn't take long to get hard.
When he reaches a certain degree of hardness, he puts it in me and leaves it there, guarded, while we keep kissing with uncontrollable passion.
-Grab me...!- I ask, feeling like inside me is getting bigger and harder.
He starts moving slowly, softly, tenderly, reaching deeper and deeper, as if with each penetration his cock was getting longer.
I stay passive for a bit, letting him take the rhythm, until the fire starts to grow and when I'm about to climax, I hug him and start moving too. Now yes, we're both catching each other, flowing into each other, hitting each other, exploding in more intense yelps and moans.
This time, when it's over, I'm in the middle of an orgasm, so our ejaculations merge, mix, flow like a single torrent of life and pleasure.
His guilty look again, worried about not being able to... Hold on. -I love that you came inside me...!- I say, calming him down and letting him know it wasn't a mistake, that I enjoyed feeling his cum in my interior. We don't separate, we stay together, united, enjoying the sensation only great sex can provide. I must be sincere and admit that Professor Augusto is no rough and wild guy, if I had to put it objectively and grade his performance, it would probably not pass, but the fact that he was my high school teacher, having the night free, the wine I had drunk at the party, everything conspired for our bodies to spark at the slightest touch. We finished the bottle, each of us went to the bathroom at their own pace, and when we got back into bed, I proposed a challenge: -How does it look from a third perspective, professor?- -I've reached two before, but three? I think I never have in my life- he manifests. And this time neither could be, and that's despite me putting in all my efforts, sucking and caressing his cock with the greatest of mine, but still it didn't stop. It was good trying anyway. I ended up sleeping over at the professor's that night. And the next morning, after breakfast together, I went home. When I checked my phone on the taxi ride, I had a bunch of messages from my friends wanting to know who I left the party with. Obviously, I left them wondering. That's my secret...
It's already a tradition for the 1998 promotion to meet at the College's facilities during the last week of November to evoke those times when the world still seemed vast and inscrutable to us.
In my case, I don't attend every year, but this time my husband would be traveling, so I thought it would be nice to reunite once more with those who had formed part of my adolescence.
I won't go into too much detail about the reunion itself, as it's always the same: food, dance, drink, and those anecdotes that although we tell them hundreds of times still provoke the same delight as if they had happened yesterday.
After chatting until we were tired with my group of friends, especially Vale and Jose, whom I never lost contact with, I danced for a bit with Fede, just one song since his wife was there, then reunited with Juanjo, who had returned from Spain ready to settle back in the country.
-What a great moment you chose to come back-I joked in obvious allusion to the crisis that's been affecting us.
-It's now or never, and honestly, seeing you like this doesn't make me regret it-
We were dancing to Believe by Cher, one of those hits from that era, and although it's a moved theme, we were sticking together more and more.
There was no clique between us at the College; he preferred the more outgoing girls, and I, once I started hanging out with my uncle Carlos, stopped paying attention to boys my age. But now, with years and maturity on our side, I felt we had a new opportunity. After all, who hasn't left one of those parties with an ex-classmate?
As for me, I still hadn't crossed that line, although I knew firsthand that both Vale and Jose, my two best friends from those years, thanks to those meetings, they had remembered old loves from high school.
And the truth is that I would have gone with Juanjo if it weren't because, amidst cheers and hurrahs, our old History teacher appeared, who we didn't expect, since he had lost his wife in the middle of the year after a long and cruel illness. Professor Augusto M., although no longer exercising as such at the college, was a regular attendee of those meetings and one of its main animators, but knowing about his recent loss, we didn't have much hope that he would come, but there he was. Disheartened, clearly, and much more worn out than in previous years, with that aura that widowhood leaves on you.
After everyone greeted him and gave him the usual condolences, I approached him with two cups in my hand.
-It's great to see you, prof- I said, inviting him a drink.
-I hope this year has improved the choice of drink- he nodded, taking a sip.
-This is a Malbec from Mendoza, from one of the wineries that my husband works with, I brought the bottles myself-
-Very good choice by your husband, Valle, please pass along my congratulations- he replied, savoring the wine like a true connoisseur.
Despite the years gone by, the Professor didn't lose the habit of calling us by our last names. Mine isn't Valle, but I'll use it to make the story more faithful.
-Well, I've greeted everyone, so I'm leaving, next year I'll stay longer-
He leaves, trying to distance himself from the revelry that doesn't match his life moment, but before he reaches the exit door, I catch up to him with my bag in hand.
-Prof, I'd like to accompany you-
-There's no need, Valle, stay and keep enjoying the party-
-The truth is that this year is a bit boring, we need your speeches, besides... I already ordered a taxi-
He had no other choice but to accept. When the taxi arrives he opens the door for me, like a true gentleman, and at the moment of getting in doesn't miss the tremendous gaze he throws at my legs. I'm wearing a mini skirt so when I move to the other seat, he manages to perceive not only the smoothness of my thighs but even the color of my thong.
-You first, prof- I say alluding to the journey we're about to embark on.
He indicates his direction to the driver and off we go. During the trip, we start talking animatedly, remembering those high school days. Professor Augusto was like a Felipe Pigna, teaching us the real part of the heroes and not what's written in bronze. We used to pass over official textbooks since he recommended reading authors such as Félix Luna, Estanislao Zevallos, Sarmiento or Mitre. He'd say that only by reading those who had been part of it would we understand our History better.
It was fascinating to listen to his lectures about the crossing of the Andes, the battle of San Lorenzo or the liberation of Peru. Practically, he transported us back to that time when everything was yet to be done.
When we arrive, after a trip that seemed too short, he gets off and tries to say goodbye, but is surprised to realize I get off with him.
-Do you invite me to take a drink, prof?- I ask after paying the fare and saying goodbye to the taxi driver.
-Don't you have to go home?- he's surprised by my proposal.
-Today is my free night, no time limit- I confirm with a smile overflowing with mischief.
-If that's the case, then let's take a drink, although I warn you that what I have isn't up to the level of wine you brought to the meeting-
-Whatever you have will be fine-
We enter the building and while we're going up in the elevator, I receive a message from one of my friends:
Where did you go? Juanjo is looking for you desperately, look out or else I'll take him
Tell him to keep going and enjoy it, then tell me about it, I respond.
I lower the volume on notifications and put away my phone since I'm sure that it's going to start sending me messages to find out who I left with. -The girls, I didn't tell them I was leaving- I say about the message. -You're in time to turn back- he warns me. -I'm where I want to be, prof- I confirm just when the elevator reaches the eighth floor. We get off, cross the hallway and enter apartment D marked with the letter D. -Sit down, I'll serve you something I take every time I want to relax a bit- he indicates. I settle into the sofa while he approaches a small cabinet that serves as a bar and pours two glasses. He hands me one and sits in a chair in front of me. We toast and drink a sip. -It's not bad- I say, remembering the previous warning he had given me about it. -This is what I have, since my wife... well, to be honest, I haven't gone out shopping too much lately- -Do you have music, prof?- I ask trying to get him away from that topic as soon as possible. -I have some records, but I don't think it's the kind of music you'd like to listen to- If I remember correctly, Professor Augusto was a great fan of tango. So he was right, it wasn't the kind of music suitable for that moment. -Don't worry...- I say, taking out my phone and putting one of my Spotify playlists on. I leave the phone on the armrest of the chair, take another sip of my glass, and looking at him in a way that transcends any linguistic barrier, I say: -Professor, why don't you come and sit next to me?- I think the professor already knew where things were going, he's a big guy with experience, although I also think that, in some way, despite the years having passed, he still saw me as his student. Which, somehow, prevented him from pouncing on me and doing everything, having me there like that. He takes a longer sip, gets up and sits next to me, but not too close. It's me who moves closer. -I was looking forward to seeing you, prof- I confess. -Okay, I also... to all, that's why I came. -But I wanted to see you, just you- I clarify, supporting him, as a confirmation, with a hand on his thigh.
Although it seems he is sweating profusely, he doesn't move or try to get up.
-Mariela...- now he calls me by my name, trying to distance himself, perhaps, from the image he had of me as a student -Think about your husband, your son, I'm already an old man-
-I think about my husband and my son, but they're at home and I'm here with you, an old man I love- I reply intensifying the caresses on his thigh.
I can already feel the tension and bulge in that part of his body. Despite being my professor, at that moment we are a man and a woman, eager for sex, luxury, and loss of control.
When it seems he's not going to resist anymore, I grab his package and squeeze it, noticing a more than important hardness. I get even closer, without letting go, and kiss him on the mouth. In the exact instant when our tongues make contact, I feel like the bulge gives a jolt.
Always with the greatest tact possible, I unbutton his pants, lower the zipper, and pull out his cock outside. Nothing out of the ordinary, but let's say that at the moment I was in, so anxious and desperate, I wasn't exactly demanding.
Kissing him more enthusiastically, he starts to get hard, feeling like my hand is getting wet with pre-seminal liquid. Then I lie down on the floor between his legs, pulling all his skin towards me, and give him a kiss at the tip. He lifts his head, and when he sees that I'm looking at him with my eyes closed, happily humming, I start to kiss him also on the sides.
-Did you ever fantasize about one of your students sucking your cock?- I ask while putting it in my mouth and starting to suck it with delightful pleasure. below.
No he answers, but the sighs and expressions of pleasure, are enough for me. I get up and start undressing in front of him. The mini dress, blouse, briefs, corset. His eyes scan my nakedness from top to bottom. He says nothing but his gaze betrays his fascination.
I separate my legs, climb on top of him, and holding his cock, position myself at the entrance of the pussy. I like feeling that first touch, before penetration, the moment preceding the consumption of our desires.
I go in slowly, injecting his virility piece by piece, feeling how our parts fit together perfectly.
I stay there for a moment, enjoying that rabid pulsation, after which I start moving, like rocking back and forth, filling myself with the professor's cock, which is now with its eyes rolled back, in ecstatic trance. Then he grabs my waist and starts moving himself, pushing his body against mine. Receiving each of his thrusts, I refresh his tits all over his face, so that he can suck them, bite them or do whatever he wants with them.
We incline towards the side, without stopping to shake ourselves, resting on the armrest of the sofa, giving ourselves a wild and frenzied massage.
Suddenly I feel him filling me up with cum. I'm not done yet, but he's already in orgasm. When he realizes what's happening, he looks at me like he's startled.
Don't worry, professor, just relax, everything is fine... I calm him down, squeezing myself even tighter against his balls.
As he finishes inside me, I stimulate my clitoris, accompanying him in that pleasure that barely serves as an appetizer for a night that promises to be epic.
I get up, with cum dripping between my legs, and curl up beside him, sweet and caramelized.
After emptying himself, the professor's cock becomes small, nothing like the powerful missile he just used to blow me away.
He gets up, grabs the bottle, two glasses, and invites me to go to bed. We enter his room, we lie down and after a new toast, we get tangled up in a long session of kisses and blowjobs.
I'm slowly pushing his head downwards until he realizes what I want and goes down on his own.
He sucks my breasts, belly button, licks my stomach and when he reaches my most intimate area, he puts his tongue in like it's a shovel.
I have to admit that I never imagined Professor Augusto between my legs, but when I see him there and especially when I feel him, I couldn't imagine him anywhere else.
The prof has an intellectual beard, of the type that is now all gray, with which he scrapes me in that area, giving me delicious tickles.
In a state of delirium, with my pussy so wet I can't take it anymore, I make him get on top and while I'm licking his mouth, savoring between his lips my own essence, I grab his cock from underneath and put it between the gills.
He's not yet at its peak, so I start to tease it and rub it against the clitoris, so he doesn't take long to get hard.
When he reaches a certain degree of hardness, he puts it in me and leaves it there, guarded, while we keep kissing with uncontrollable passion.
-Grab me...!- I ask, feeling like inside me is getting bigger and harder.
He starts moving slowly, softly, tenderly, reaching deeper and deeper, as if with each penetration his cock was getting longer.
I stay passive for a bit, letting him take the rhythm, until the fire starts to grow and when I'm about to climax, I hug him and start moving too. Now yes, we're both catching each other, flowing into each other, hitting each other, exploding in more intense yelps and moans.
This time, when it's over, I'm in the middle of an orgasm, so our ejaculations merge, mix, flow like a single torrent of life and pleasure.
His guilty look again, worried about not being able to... Hold on. -I love that you came inside me...!- I say, calming him down and letting him know it wasn't a mistake, that I enjoyed feeling his cum in my interior. We don't separate, we stay together, united, enjoying the sensation only great sex can provide. I must be sincere and admit that Professor Augusto is no rough and wild guy, if I had to put it objectively and grade his performance, it would probably not pass, but the fact that he was my high school teacher, having the night free, the wine I had drunk at the party, everything conspired for our bodies to spark at the slightest touch. We finished the bottle, each of us went to the bathroom at their own pace, and when we got back into bed, I proposed a challenge: -How does it look from a third perspective, professor?- -I've reached two before, but three? I think I never have in my life- he manifests. And this time neither could be, and that's despite me putting in all my efforts, sucking and caressing his cock with the greatest of mine, but still it didn't stop. It was good trying anyway. I ended up sleeping over at the professor's that night. And the next morning, after breakfast together, I went home. When I checked my phone on the taxi ride, I had a bunch of messages from my friends wanting to know who I left the party with. Obviously, I left them wondering. That's my secret...
16 comentários - Profesex...
+10
Y menos mal que ese pobre hombre no la quedó de la emoción... aunque es la mejor forma de irse, obvio!