hot I want to use my tongue to clean it up and then lick her pussy until she screams my name. But she’s already so close this time.
With my free hand, I ease my phone from my pocket, quickly flip to the app, and press the red button right before Reagan moans my name and trembles with her release still clutching my shoulders so tightly in her fists she’s probably wrinkling my dress shirt.
She’s still gasping for breath when her hazy eyes blink open and she sees my phone in my hand.
“What…what are you doing?” she asks, dropping her hands from me to wrap her arms protectively around her breasts to cover them. The hurt in her voice and her moisture-filled eyes instantly make me feel ashamed of doubting her.
“You’re not the first girl who has wanted this from me, and I can’t blindly trust you,” I tell her. “But I swear to you, Reagan, no one will ever see this video unless you try to screw me over.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and then she pushes off the desk, grabs her dress from the floor and hastily pulls it back on, maybe even inside out. She doesn’t look at me again, and knowing I’ve made her so upset is like an agonizing weight crushing down on me.
“Reagan,” I say as she starts for the door. She reaches for the knob. And when it doesn’t open because it’s still locked, her bare shoulders hunch forward and the first sob wretches free, more painful to my ears than a fucking pickaxe.
My arms are wrapped around her before I even realize it, so instinctual it is for me needing to comfort her, hating myself for doing this to her. I’m thankful when she doesn’t pull away. She just rests her forehead against the door and lets me hold her while she cries.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur in her ear. “Please forgive me.”
Elbowing me in the gut to urge me to let her go, which I totally deserved, she flips the lock, yanks open the door, and then she’s gone.
…
Reagan
I collapse to my knees under the oak tree across from the English building, unable to make it back to my apartment as the tears pour down my face.
This is a disaster. Beyond disaster. What was I thinking? That I could just waltz up to my professor and he would fuck me on his desk so we could live happily ever after? This is definitely not a fairy tale. At the moment it feels more like a nightmare and that the love of my life just brutally stabbed me over and over again in my chest. I think if he had done that it would be less surprising than the disgustingly low thing he actually did.
He recorded me. Naked, while riding his fingers. The first time a man’s ever touched me in such an intimate way, and now it’s tainted.
Jeez. I really need a cell phone in times like these to call Josie and ask her what the hell I should do now. I know where I’m supposed to be going, my photography class, but I can’t, not like this. Remembering I don’t even have any panties on makes me cry even harder. When I wipe the tears away, I realize the sewn floral pattern on my black dress is inside out. God, I’m a freakin’ mess. Stupid love potion. So far, all it’s done is nearly killed my professor and embarrassed me in front of him. Then I remember the look on his face, the heat in his sapphire eyes when he unzipped his pants, like his life depended on me giving him relief. And I wanted to, more than anything.
He had me coming undone before he even took my dress and panties off or touched me. After that, I surrendered to him, and was even ready to beg him to take me right there on his desk when I saw the phone in his hand. I’ve never felt so vulnerable.
“Are you okay?”
I lift my head and brush my hair out of my face to see a girl looking down at me with a worried expression on her face. No wonder. I’m such a mess, having a breakdown in the middle of campus.
“Yeah, thanks,” I tell her, wiping away the tears. “Do you know where I can find a cell phone?” I ask.
“Ah, I have one, if you need to borrow it,” she
With my free hand, I ease my phone from my pocket, quickly flip to the app, and press the red button right before Reagan moans my name and trembles with her release still clutching my shoulders so tightly in her fists she’s probably wrinkling my dress shirt.
She’s still gasping for breath when her hazy eyes blink open and she sees my phone in my hand.
“What…what are you doing?” she asks, dropping her hands from me to wrap her arms protectively around her breasts to cover them. The hurt in her voice and her moisture-filled eyes instantly make me feel ashamed of doubting her.
“You’re not the first girl who has wanted this from me, and I can’t blindly trust you,” I tell her. “But I swear to you, Reagan, no one will ever see this video unless you try to screw me over.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and then she pushes off the desk, grabs her dress from the floor and hastily pulls it back on, maybe even inside out. She doesn’t look at me again, and knowing I’ve made her so upset is like an agonizing weight crushing down on me.
“Reagan,” I say as she starts for the door. She reaches for the knob. And when it doesn’t open because it’s still locked, her bare shoulders hunch forward and the first sob wretches free, more painful to my ears than a fucking pickaxe.
My arms are wrapped around her before I even realize it, so instinctual it is for me needing to comfort her, hating myself for doing this to her. I’m thankful when she doesn’t pull away. She just rests her forehead against the door and lets me hold her while she cries.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur in her ear. “Please forgive me.”
Elbowing me in the gut to urge me to let her go, which I totally deserved, she flips the lock, yanks open the door, and then she’s gone.
…
Reagan
I collapse to my knees under the oak tree across from the English building, unable to make it back to my apartment as the tears pour down my face.
This is a disaster. Beyond disaster. What was I thinking? That I could just waltz up to my professor and he would fuck me on his desk so we could live happily ever after? This is definitely not a fairy tale. At the moment it feels more like a nightmare and that the love of my life just brutally stabbed me over and over again in my chest. I think if he had done that it would be less surprising than the disgustingly low thing he actually did.
He recorded me. Naked, while riding his fingers. The first time a man’s ever touched me in such an intimate way, and now it’s tainted.
Jeez. I really need a cell phone in times like these to call Josie and ask her what the hell I should do now. I know where I’m supposed to be going, my photography class, but I can’t, not like this. Remembering I don’t even have any panties on makes me cry even harder. When I wipe the tears away, I realize the sewn floral pattern on my black dress is inside out. God, I’m a freakin’ mess. Stupid love potion. So far, all it’s done is nearly killed my professor and embarrassed me in front of him. Then I remember the look on his face, the heat in his sapphire eyes when he unzipped his pants, like his life depended on me giving him relief. And I wanted to, more than anything.
He had me coming undone before he even took my dress and panties off or touched me. After that, I surrendered to him, and was even ready to beg him to take me right there on his desk when I saw the phone in his hand. I’ve never felt so vulnerable.
“Are you okay?”
I lift my head and brush my hair out of my face to see a girl looking down at me with a worried expression on her face. No wonder. I’m such a mess, having a breakdown in the middle of campus.
“Yeah, thanks,” I tell her, wiping away the tears. “Do you know where I can find a cell phone?” I ask.
“Ah, I have one, if you need to borrow it,” she
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