Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

With that, I know I’m done for because this man is dirty. I was expecting to have the upper hand when it came to handling the alpha male, but it seems I’ve underestimated Brant Harrison. I thought I’d be in charge, and that he’d come panting and crawling like a dog begging for a treat. But instead, the gorgeous man is one dominating me. What do I do now?

Brant

What the hell is going on? I admit, I’m a rancid guy but this chick takes the cake. After all, it’s not often that you walk into a bar, only to have a woman pull her dress down and beg you to suck her tits.

Then again, this has been a crazy day so far, so it’s par for the course. After breaking up with Monica Green earlier today, I figured I’d leave her house and close that chapter of my life for good. But instead, the middle-aged woman offered me one last goodbye fuck, and of course, I took it. Why not? She’s cute enough, with her big sassy body and fluffy blonde hair. Plus, her vag gets wet real quick, and I figured going in for some instant satisfaction wouldn’t hurt anyone.

But yeah, breaking up with the woman was the right thing to do. Monica’s great and all, but she’s oddly shady. She never talks about herself, instead asking questions about my life instead. I swear, we’ll spend hours talking about my business, Cool Poolz, or about what I want to do with my life, but Monica’s oddly secretive when it comes to her own comings and goings.

It didn’t bug me at first, but after a while, it was just fucking strange because she’d always deflect when I asked her questions about herself. In seemed that the only thing she was absolutely certain about is the fact that she doesn’t want kids. When I brought it up one day, the middle-aged woman threw her head back and began laughing, her red lips parting to reveal bleached teeth.

“Oh, you’re so funny Brant,” she tittered before taking a sip from her cocktail. “Kids? You flatter me.”

“Why?” I growled, eyeing her luscious form, which was currently displayed in a tiny bikini as we lounged by the pool. Monica’s got big breasts and wide hips, as well as a soft, poochy stomach. Some guys want their women sculpted and skinny, but I actually like my sex partners to be feminine and womanly.

“Well, I’m not as young as you think I am,” she said in a coy tone while shooting me a meaningful look over the rim of her glass.

“Why? How old are you?” I growled. “Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”

The blonde woman merely tilted her head back and laughed again, while fishing an olive out of her drink.

“Oh you flatter me, Brant,” she cooed while popping the olive into her mouth. “But yeah, kids aren’t really my thing. I just don’t see myself raising rug rats for the next twenty years. I’m not that woman.” I nodded, but inside my head was churning. After all, it was just another instance where Monica deflected when it came to revealing anything about herself. What kind of woman is she, if she doesn’t want children? The corporate type? The kind who wants to wear her hair in a sleek bun while toting a briefcase to work every day?

Seriously though, the blonde is sexy, and I put her reply out of my mind. I wasn’t here to talk with her, or to find the mother of my children. Fuck it, as long as Monica was soft and delectable with a wet pussy and tight asshole, then I was good with it.

But our conversation picked back up a couple days later when we were out at a Mexican cantina. The mariachi band came and went, and while we were digging into our tacos, Monica batted her lashes at me.

“Have you ever wondered how I support myself?” she cooed.

I almost spit out my food because of course I’ve asked, but she never really answered.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“You’re divorced right?” I ask in a low voice. “Your ex-husband left you the house as part of the settlement.”

“Sort of,” Monica said in a teasing hum while trailing one long, red nail around the rim of her margarita glass. “Something along those lines.”

I put down my fork, fixing her with a look.

“Well, if not that, then what is it? Did your ex leave the house in a trust for you? Did you inherit it from your parents? Did you buy it yourself?” This seemed unlikely because Monica’s never had a job, as far as I can tell. She said something about being a real estate broker long ago, but I don’t really see it. The woman lives to hang out by the pool, sunning herself in barely-there bikinis, and I can’t see her hustling to do any kind of work, period.

But again, Monica didn’t clarify things. Instead, she merely smiled mysteriously before popping a chip into her mouth.

“Let’s just say all women have secrets,” she purred while reaching for the hot sauce. “It makes things more fun, right?”

I stared at her.

“Yeah, but I barely know anything about you. It’s fucking weird, if you ask me.”

Monica just waved her manicured hand in the air.

“Oh Brant,” she sighed. “So honest and upstanding all the time! I swear, have you ever cheated on a test before? Or cheated on anything?”

I fix her with a look.

“No, although I wasn’t exactly a boy scout either. Why, what are you getting at?”

The blonde woman merely smiled mysteriously again.

“I’m just saying that life isn’t as straightforward as you think it is,” she hummed. “But this guacamole is delicious,” she added. “Do you want a bite of mine? I swear, I’m going to have to get the recipe to make it at home myself.”

That comment struck me as odd because Monica’s never cooked before, and not even something as simple as guacamole dip. In fact, I’ve spent entire weekends at her house, fucking her silly, but she never threw together any meals for us to enjoy. Instead, we always ordered Chinese or pizza, and it worked fine for me because I’m not picky about food. But again, the whole recipe thing seemed to imply that at least at some point in her life, Monica cooked.

As you can tell, this woman was fucking strange. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a wildcat in bed, and I’ve never come so hard in my life. But it’s goddamn weird to know nothing about the woman you’re boning, and so after a couple months, I decided to call it off. To be honest, Monica didn’t seem that put out when I told her I was breaking up with her. She merely nodded before pressing a kiss to my mouth and ruffling my hair, as if I was a cute puppy dog she’d found on the street. Then, she stripped off her bikini and before I knew it, we were going at it on the lounge chair by the pool. Her cunt was wet and her boobies bounced, and that’s all I needed for the perfect goodbye.

So yeah, that was my afternoon. After leaving my ex’s place, I cleaned a couple pools and then went home, exhausted. I figured I’d rest after a hot day in the sun, but then I got bored and decided to head out to the Red Rooster for a cold drink. It’s an unpretentious place and I figured I’d relax a bit with a beer in hand. I definitely didn’t expect to meet a beautiful young nymph with a sassy smile and dirty ways.

But here we are, and Petunia moans as I play with her pussy under the bar while sipping at a sweet teat.

“Ummm,” she cries breathily, tipping her head back as her pink lips part. “That feels amazing.”

“It’s about to get even better,” I growl against her breast. With clever fingers, I part those swollen pussy lips before stroking through her folds. She’s drenched, and her clit is as hard as a rock. Without looking, I gently tease her clit out of its hood before circling it a few times, and then settling in for a solid rub.

“Oh oh oh,” Petunia moans, squirming in her seat. “Unnh!”

“Shhh,” I growl softly between deep suckles at her breast. “Keep it down baby because we’re not alone.”

But a quick glance shows me that no one’s looking. Again, it’s dark and the people at the other end of the bar are busy with their conversations, so we have privacy. Petunia squirms again beneath my touch, her vag juicing heavily into my hand, and then she spreads her legs even wider to provide better access.

“Please, more Brant,” she begs, her blue eyes dazed with lust. “I need it so bad.”

It’s then that I realize that some discreet fingering under the table isn’t going to be enough for this girl. In fact, even a solid finger-fucking wouldn’t be enough because Petunia’s juicing heavily all over my palm now while tweaking her pink nipples. She needs one thing, and she needs it bad.

As a result, I slide off my seat and stand behind the curvaceous blonde, leaning forward to breathe into her ear.

“You want it, sweetheart? You think you can take me?”

Her cheeks color a beautiful rosy pink, and she nods.

“I do,” Petunia confirms. “Please Brant. I’m yours.”

With that, I inch the back of her skirt up so that it’s bunched around her waist, my big back shielding her from the gaze of the people at the front of the Red Rooster. Then I spit into my palm and undo my pants, before pulling out my massive cock and lubing it up with saliva. Petunia can’t see my cock but she wiggles her back end, bumping her big cheeks up and down as if begging for it.