When it was time for me to go to university my father arranged for me to stay with my aunt and uncle. They lived in this real big place, quite posh, it was. Aunt did all the housework herself and she was an excellent cook. They had a gardener in once a fortnight to keep the gardens and lawn under control.
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Tay opened his eyes, waiting for the headache to kick in. The night before had been great, they had finally managed to get the whole group together again for the first time since they left University. With everyone scattered across the country it had taken a year to manage.
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750... 751... 752.
I stood in front of the door, puffing from the exertion of climbing the stairs. This was it. There wasn't much decoration. No comic clippings, or assignment drop envelopes, or notes. Just a business card in a slot.
"Lisa M. Rohdes, Ph.D., Manfred Jamison IV Professor of Finance."
For a few seconds I just looked around like an idiot, afraid to knock. I know what it seems like: the male student goes to see the hot teacher and gets all distracted.
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You have a better chance of appreciating this story if you have a large closet full of dresses that were carefully chosen to look professional and a small drawer of lace and silk originally intended for your husband alone. If you're a man who wants me to swallow a big load of cum by the second paragraph, then you'll get along with my husband; but you'll have to look elsewhere for a story. Even in my husband's stories, I never seem to get laid by another man (or women) until the bottom of the first page or the top of the second.
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