Leaving your little grey cami on for the time being, you pull off your skirt and panties, tossing them aside, and lean up against the tree, legs spread apart, presenting your posterior invitingly for him. Professor Sullivan rolls the condom down his long, skinny dick, and comes up behind you, nuzzling your neck, and teasing the outside of your pussy with the end of his dick.
He rubs his latex-covered cock up and down the length of your slit until you are the one who is moaning with desire. He spreads your cheeks apart, exposing your moist ass to the cool night air.
“Are you ready for it?” he breathes in your ear.
“Yes!” you exclaim, antsy with lust and impatient anticipation.
Slowly, oh so slowly, he slides his cock up your drooling pussy, until he is all the way inside and his wiry pubes are pressed up against your bare ass.
He fucks you and you fuck back against him, finding a rhythm, savoring the excruciating pleasure under the dome of unblinking stars. It starts slowly, then accelerates, faster, wilder, until both of you are out of control, fucking like pagans on Beltane eve.
His finger finds your asshole and slips up inside your tight anus, pushing buttons and driving you past the brink. As his cock fucks your pussy and his finger invades your ass, you come, snarling and writhing, fucking back against him with everything you’ve got, crying out into the night air.
You feel him feel him thrust hard one last time, and then you feel his cock pulsate inside the condom, and with a drawn-out raspy gasp, he comes inside you, pressed tight up against your rear end, squeezing your breasts tight and panting in your ear.
He is out of breath. He fumbles his pants back on, still wheezing.
“Ok, alright. That was fantastic!” he says as he tucks his shirt in, “Did you get to come too?”
The spent condom lies discarded in the tall grass, leaking semen. One of you should probably pick it up and throw it away. Your pussy is deliciously juicy and tender, and you are still pleasantly high on the post-sex endorphins.
“Now don’t think that just because we’ve had sex you automatically get an A… Though I suppose after this I could hardly give you worse than a B+!”
Professor Sullivan, you think, is kind of a jerk. Kind of a douche bag, really. Perhaps you should get back to your dorm and buckle down on that paper. Now that the itch has been scratched.