Professor’s Red Confession: Office Blaze with My Star Student

The door clicks shut in Solange’s office. Papers everywhere. Her desk a mess of notes, copies, chaos. I’m Arthur, 20, heart pounding. She circles, locks eyes. Blonde, elegant skirt hugging hips. No makeup, but those hazel eyes burn. ‘You’re exhausted by those girls,’ she says, voice low. ‘Let me check if you’re worth it.’ My cock twitches. She leans in. Lips crash. Hot. Tongue invades. Hand on my neck. Other grabs my crotch. Zipper down. Fingers wrap my shaft. Semi-hard, swelling fast. Heart races. Sweat beads on my neck. Hers too, I smell it. Perfume mixed with woman heat. She drops. Kneels between my thighs. Mouth engulfs me. Wet suction. Tongue swirls. I grip her hair. Pull. She moans around my dick. Pulls off. ‘Fuck me like them, but better.’ Skirt hikes up. No panties? Wait, thin slip shoved aside. Fingers dive into her slit. Soaked. Wide, deep, hungry. She’s no virgin co-ed. Experienced. Clit throbs under thumb. She gasps. ‘Now.’ I stand. Bend her over desk. Papers scatter. Ass up. Cheeks firm, pale. I spit on cock. Line up. Thrust. She engulfs me. Hot walls squeeze. Deeper than Caroline, hotter than Bérénice. I pound. Hips slap. Her cries: ‘Harder, salaud! Defonce-moi!’ Sweat drips. My balls slap her wetness. Heart hammers chest. Urgency builds. She pushes back. Grinds. Fingers claw desk. I grab tits through sweater. Pinch nipples. She arches. ‘Chatte… branle-moi!’ I finger her clit. Fast circles. She quakes. But she wants more. Hand back. ‘Enculer… now!’ Cock slips out. Slick with her juice. Presses anus. Tight ring yields. Sucks me in. Insane grip. Heat like fire. I ram. Deep. She screams pleasure. Ass milks me. Pulse races. Skin burns. Sweat pours. Every thrust electric. Her hole clenches. I lose it. Cum explodes. Deep in her guts. She shudders. Comes too. Body shakes. Desk creaks. We collapse. Panting. Her ass still twitches around me. I pull out. Cum leaks. She straightens skirt. Hair tousled. Smiles wicked. ‘Good boy. Channel this energy to studies.’ Door opens. Hallway cool. But my skin still scorches. Legs weak. Cock throbs, spent. Bérénice and Caroline wait outside. They know. Eyes cold. Turn away. I don’t care. That blaze… unique. Her office reeks of us now. Every two weeks, same ritual. Door shuts. Fever rises. We burn. Ashes scatter on forgotten exams. Covid killed touches. We steal them back. Raw. Dangerous. Total.