Pinned Beneath You (Gay Erotica) Read online

  Mr. Schmidt is my favorite teacher, he always makes Astronomy so much more fun than it could have been. He teases me in class and flirts with me when I came to him for help. When he slipped his hand under my skirt the first time, I thought I was in heaven. I felt so naughty at first, daydreaming about this older man.

  In classes, my mind would drift to thoughts of his tongue in my slit, his mouth against mine as he fingers me. I'm still a virgin, but I so desperately burn for this man.

  Even thinking about him now turns me on a bit. If I were a different girl, a more experienced girl, maybe I wouldn't be letting him touch me like this. But I am who I am, and I am loving this older man pinching my nipples. All I can pay attention to is the tingling between my legs as this older man pinches my pink nipples and sucks on my bottom lip. I am full of desire and lust for this man.

  Maybe it's because my dad was rarely home that I've gained this fetish for older men. That's certainly possibly. But right now, as Mr. Schmidt's warm fingers trail a circle around my belly button, and I can think of is the fantasies I've had about this teacher. I've imagined Mr. Schmidt sucking on my nipples as I massaged my own clit, pretending it was his warm hand doing so. I never thought such a thing would ever happen, but I still yearned for it.

  That's why I asked him to join me for dinner. That's why I sat on his lap and teased him until finally, he gave in. Finally, he touched me like a woman, instead of a student.

  Mr. Schmidt's mouth comes down to my neck and bites it gently, his hand slipping out from under my shirt and onto my thigh. Every bit of my skin he touches, burns with lust for him. I wrap my hands around Mr. Schmidt's neck, kissing him deeply. But then, suddenly, I am shy. I blush and sit up, pushing him away.

  “What's wrong?” His manly voice sounds so tender, so caring. I blush even harder, wrapping my arms around my body. I shiver and feel ashamed of myself.

  “I'm a virgin,” I tell him. Of course he didn't know. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, his interest in me intensified.

  “I see. So you need me to go slow?” He asks, his voice slightly teasing. I feel ashamed of my inexperience. I just nod and frown. Of course I need him to go slow.

  He pulls me in close for a big hug, a fatherly embrace made odd by his erection straining against his pants. I nuzzle my head into his shoulder, breathing in his cologne. Looking up into his eyes, I admire the flecks of silver in his eyebrows and on his temples. “It's okay, Amanda. I'll show you everything you need to know, and we'll take it at your pace. If you need to stop, just let me know.”

  The tenderness of his voice and the kindness of his thoughts makes my heart melt. I'm glad I chose him to be my first.

  An older man will treat me well and teach me what I need to learn like some stupid frat boy never could. I've had a few men my age take me on dates and try to sleep with me, thinking they're smooth for slipping their hand down my shirt while their arms are around me. I've even given one man a hand job before, but it was not the kind of experience I wanted for my first time.

  Suddenly, in the middle of my thoughts, I feel his hands on my shoulders, pulling me into a passionate kiss with him.

  I sink into the kiss at first, enjoying the warmth of his mouth against my own, but as his tongue slips between my lips, I try to push away out of shock. I scream against his mouth and push against his chest until he finally lets up, a pained look on his face that makes me regret pushing him away.

  I stare at him, and he stares at me. Something wild is in his eyes, something passionate and more crazed than I've ever seen him. I stare for only a few seconds before his wildness is transferred to me, and I find myself straddling my professor suddenly, pressing my lips against his. I bite his bottom lip and stick my tongue down my throat.

  I run my hands through Mr. Schmidt's black hair and a little thrill shivers through me as I hear him moan.

  His large hands grab my ass cheeks from beneath my short skirt, squeezing them roughly as I press my thin body against him. We kiss for what seems like hours, my tongue never leaving his mouth, wrestling with his.

  He sucks on my lips, making them red and throbbing. His mouth moves to my neck, which he sucks roughly, leaving marks that no other man has ever been allowed to leave on my skin. I feel the bruises before they start to darken on my throat as my professor moves down. Little hickeys dance down my neck and around my collar bone, going back up to the other side.

  He nibbles on my ear lobe. One of his hands slips up my shirt and pushes my bra up. His fingers squeeze around my hard nipples. This is better than any of the fantasies I ever had about him. I want him, I need him now. He makes me feel like a grown woman, instead of a little girl.

  The scent of his cologne makes my head swim as he pinches and rubs my nipples. He smells so manly. He pulls up my shirt to expose my upper body, quickly undoing my bra as well and slipping that off. My shirt and bra are thrown onto the floor without another thought from him.

  Mr. Schmidt grabs me around my back and pulls me close, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. Oh, what a heavenly feeling! I've never experienced this before, his hot wet mouth around my swollen and excited nub.

  His tongue swirls around the areola and flicks against the nipple, driving me wild. I grip onto his shirt and lean back a bit, enjoying the odd and exciting sensation. He alternates between sucking on my stiff nub and gently biting it, sending strange shocks through my body and forcing a moan out of me.

  He uses his right hand to hold me as his left slips up under my skirt. “Oh, what's this now? No panties?” He says, raising his eyebrows at me. My face flushes and I smile shyly. “What a surprise, you are a little slutty, aren't you?”

  He chuckles, his deep voice intoxicating me more than any amount of alcohol ever has. I blush and smile, giggling slightly. I like feeling like this, feeling slutty, like I need this man's big cock in my pussy. I could get used to this. I don't feel ashamed at all anymore.

  “Mmf,” is the only reply I can muster as I bite my lower lip. His finger roughly pushes into my slit and against my clitoris, slowly rubbing up and down the cleft. I can feel my pussy juices slicking up his hand as he does this, making the rubbing easier. It feels good now. Better than I've ever been able to make myself feel. He alternates the pressure on my clitoris, sometimes rubbing it hard and others rubbing it gently, almost too gently to feel.

  A sort of heat starts to build up in my clitoris as he rubs it, now pinching it softly between his thumb and forefinger while he alternates sucking on both of my nipples. Suddenly, though, he stands up and lays me along the couch.

  He throws my legs over his shoulders and, before diving into my cunt, looks to me for permission. “Has anyone ever eaten you out before?”

  I shake my head no.

  “You're going to like this, then. Are you ready?”

  I nod. “Yes, Professor. I'm ready.”

  He chuckles, his nose crinkling slightly in his laughter. God, he's so sexy. How did I get this lucky? I wonder briefly if I'm just dreaming, or if I really did bring this man into my home and seduce him on my couch.

  He buries his face in my cunt then. His tongue immediately hits my clit, and I squirm under him, moving my hips back and forth. This feels so good. I should tell him. “I like that, Professor!” I cry, my voice rushed because my breathing is so heavy.

  He doesn't stop, he just keeps licking my slit roughly. My head seems to be floating, my mouth opening and closing a bit like a fish with each lick against my stiff, sensitive nub.

  Using the bumpy pad of his tongue, he flicks it back and forth, pressing it against my clit. “Ahh, ahh!” I cry, grabbing the couch in a vain attempt to control my thrashing. I lock my legs around my professor's head. An orgasm is building up, but I can tell this will be more than I've ever experienced before. I'm scared of it. I almost don't want it to hit me.

  Mr. Schmidt's tongue digs into my hole, fucking me with his tongue before going back up to my clitoris. “Please stop!” I cry. “I'm too sensitive, oh my
god oh my god oh my GOD!”

  I scream as my whole body starts to shake. I thrash around, unable to fully control my body, but he doesn't let me go.

  I try to push his head away from me, try to claw myself away from him as my pussy pulsates and juices splash over his face, but he holds me tight and lashes my clit with his tongue as I ride wave after wave of orgasm. My face is bright red and my heart is beating so loud I'm sure he can even hear it.

  Finally, he pulls himself away from me as I start to calm down and a glow seems to come over me. My juices drip down his face, which he wipes with his palm, licking a bit before wiping it off on his slacks. I can tell how horny he is, because he looks like he's actually in pain from his hard on pressing against his slacks.

  I sit up, covering my breasts for a moment. Looking at the carpet, I feel self conscious, but only very briefly. Once Mr. Schmidt grabs my face and kisses me roughly again, all self consciousness fades away into passion and love. “Did you enjoy that, Pet?”

  I nod at my professor, looking up into his deep blue eyes. I feel a passion, burning fire-like passion, pulsing from my stomach and throughout my entire body. Mr. Schmidt comes close to me again, and his hand slides in my crevice. One of his fingers slides into my hole, making a squishing sound as it enters me. I squirm beneath him again, enjoying the attention now that I'm no longer so sensitive.

  A warm glow seems to surround me as he pushes a second finger within me, only barely fitting into my tight hole. “You're going to hurt a bit when I put my cock in you,” he says, roughly. I blush at the lewd word. My professor's cock, going inside of me.

  His fingers pump into me faster, causing me to mewl beneath him like a small kitten. My hair is tangled beneath me from all the movement I've done against the couch's fabric. His thumb presses against my clit while he fingers me, bringing me close to yet another orgasm.

  My deep moans are floating around the room, echoing just a bit off the walls. I bite my lower lip, trying not to orgasm too quickly.

  He stands up again, and undoes his trousers. He hesitates for a moment, with his thumbs in the belt loops on both hips. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  I look up into his eyes again, and instantly know my answer. I spread my legs wide, giving him a great view of my pussy. “Of course I do, Sir. I want you to fuck me.”

  I think my words let loose his ferocious, manly essence. Within seconds he was nude and grabbing my thighs. Pulling me up so only my shoulders and above are touching the couch now, he places his fat cock at my entrance.

  His skin is so warm, but the pressure against me scares me. I'm not sure he'll fit at all. A drip of sweat falls down from my eyebrow and into my eye, and I brush it away as I brace myself for penetration.

  Mr. Schmidt stands still for a moment, gently increasing the pressure against my hole until finally, POP! He's inside of me, sinking all the way in until his balls lightly slap against my ass cheeks. I wince at the pain, much worse than I thought it might be. As soon as he's balls deep in me, the pain starts to subside.

  The teacher drives his cock in and out of me, the sticky sounds of our fucking filling my ears. I can't help but giggle at the sounds. My pussy muscles contract around his intruding prick, massaging him as he fucks me, deeper and deeper still. The tip of his cock gently brushes against my cervix, causing just enough pain to be pleasurable. I grip the couch, thrashing beneath him, almost wanting to get away again. But then it starts to feel good. Really good. I start to pant and moan beneath him.

  His strong hands are on my tits now as he fucks me, pulling and pinching my nipples. His grunts and groans turn me on so much. After a few minutes, I become braver.

  “Fuck me harder, Sir, please!” I cry. Mr. Schmidt's only response is a deep grunt as he pounds his hips down, fucking me as deep and as hard as he can. We're both sweating in the heat of our passion.

  He moves now so that he's on the couch with me, holding my back so that our skin can touch. The intimacy is so sweet that it only heightens the erotic pleasure I'm feeling. His hands spread my ass cheeks as his fatherly cock pumps in and out of me, hitting my G spot over and over again. I think to myself how glad I am that it's his cock that fills me for the first time.

  His skin is hot against mine as our sweaty bodies writhe against each other while he fucks me. I move my hips in time with him as I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him deeply and moaning into his hot mouth.

  “Yes, yes, yes! Don't stop, Sir!” I am screaming now. “I'm so close! Please keep going!”

  He grunts again, thrusting into me harder and faster. I can tell he's close to cumming, even though I have no experience with this. And I want it all in me. “Cum in me! Please, Sir, cum in my pussy!” I beg, scratching my nails down his back.

  We kiss deeply, passionately, as his cock spasms and my womb is coated for the first time with my teacher's seed. I moan and orgasm around him, my juices spilling onto his thighs as he keeps fucking me. His hot seed seems to fill me almost completely, and a heavenly sense of peace and love surrounds me.

  He falls on top of me and we fall asleep together on the couch, with his cock still buried deep within me. I wake up before he does, around 8 PM. My stomach is growling so loud that it brings him out of his sleep as well.

  We both sit on the couch, his flaccid cock resting against his thigh, still sticky from our mingling juices.

  “Do you regret doing that, Amanda?”

  I look up at him with shock, my blue eyes wide. “Hell no! Sir, that was the best thing to ever happen to me!”

  He pulls me close then, sighing happily. “I'm glad. You're no longer a little girl, Amanda, you're a grown woman now. Your pussy's been filled with my seed, and you've been deflowered.”

  I nod as we hug. And then he lets go of me, standing up and putting his pants back on. “How would you like me to make you some dinner?”

  I smile brightly up at my big, sexy professor. “Sounds great to me!” I know my classes with him will be so much hotter from now.

  Teasing His MILF

  Cougar Erotica

  Dalia Daudelin

  I had hoped, in spite of myself, to rest through summer break. I had been away at school, first time from home -- you know how it is with college.

  My first year down the drain, my big hope was that they would let me just sleep in, play some video games, listen to some music... Naturally, the first words out of my parents' mouths were that the trash needed to be taken out, within seconds of walking through the door and laying my suitcase on the floor. I hadn't even opened the door to my room.

  So I suppose it didn't come as much of a surprise that morning, when I woke up to a phone call from my mother, with that tone all Italian mothers use, a mixture of worry and condescension, to tell me that she needed me to do her a big favor, a new friend she'd met through her weekly Mahjong.

  She said I'd definitely know her from when I was young, that her husband had been my baseball coach. I didn't bother to remind her that I only played a single year of little league when I was six, and that was almost fifteen years ago.

  'Something with her computer,' my mom said. It wasn't much to go on, and once again it was looking like she'd found a 'little job' that was going to take me all day. I sighed, pulled my pants off the floor, and padded my way to the bathroom for a shower.

  I had thought, maybe, once I got on campus that my drought with women would come to an end, but it didn't. A thousand girls, absolutely gorgeous girls, and none of them quite felt right.

  Hell, none of them seemed to think I felt right, either. My virginity was beginning to be an awkward issue that I was going to have to deal with before someone laughed me out of the marriage bed. After all, for all that my mother thought she was helping, I didn't want to have her get me a girlfriend, either.

  So I looked up the address, printed off some directions, and hopped in the car. Maybe, I thought: Maybe I will get out of here, fifteen minutes, turn it off and turn it back on, boom. Done for the day. The
n I saw her, and I got rid of that thought.

  First, the look on her face said it wasn't something minor. She looked like she was about to break into tears at any moment, frantic to say the least. I suspected that she wouldn't be so upset over something I could fix in five minutes.

  But at the same time, I thought it might not be such a problem. She was gorgeous. Her hair was thick and dark, not especially styled. I got the impression that she had meant to do something with it, before the problem, whatever it was, came up. Her shirt was tight enough to show off the size of her ample bosom, leaving everything to the imagination.

  I don't know if it was obvious to her, but I felt like my jaw was hitting the floor. I rolled my tongue back into my mouth, picked my chin up off the floor, and reminded myself that this was someone's wife, and old enough to be my mother.

  It didn't stop me from noticing her fragrant perfume when I stepped onto the porch, though. Hints of jasmine, perhaps a bit of cinnamon. I didn't indulge in the scent but it was intoxicating. Instead, I reached my hand out for a handshake.

  "Mrs. Stewart? It's James Trapper." She took my hand. "My mother said you had some trouble with your computer I might be able to help you with?"

  "My, you've grown!" The line was said like a throw-away comment; small-talk was practically a necessity in these neighborhoods, even if you wanted to get down to business. I smiled, playing the polite young man, but I didn't say anything. Maybe if she didn't realize I wanted to bend her over the arm of the couch I could see in her living room, it didn't count.

  "What seems to be the problem?" I tried not to make it sound like I was in a hurry, though she seemed a little hurt by the rushing. I didn't hear the sound of children, and there wasn't a car in the drive. I suppose she was lonely, but I needed to figure out the extent of the damage.