Evening was creeping in slowly. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the campus. Classes were done, and Joren had nothing left to do.
He sat in his dorm room, quiet. Dale wasn't around—probably had class or something. His thoughts drifted back to what had happened with Lana: the warmth of her mouth, the way her tongue had teased him. Her voice lingered—"Don't forget to plan the date."
He would. Eventually.
But right now, she wasn't the priority. His mind was on someone else.
Professor Hart had told him to come by her place in the evening. No time. No details. Just a quiet line as he was leaving her office: "Come to my place this evening."
That was it. But it was clear enough—after all, why else would she say it?
He checked the clock. Almost six.
He stood, stretched, and grabbed his jacket. He didn't know what was waiting for him at her house, but whatever it was, he was going to find out.
The walk to her house felt shorter this time, since he already knew the route. The upscale street was quiet, just like before—clean sidewalks, trimmed hedges, soft lighting from the windows above.
He reached her apartment and stood outside for a moment, hands in his pockets, heart steady but alert. He'd been here before, but tonight felt different.
He raised his hand and knocked—thrice, firm but not loud.
A pause.
Then the door opened slowly.
She stood there, wearing a nightgown that was spare and revealing, clinging to her figure in a way that felt obscene. Her hair was loose, falling over one shoulder, and her eyes met his without hesitation.
"Right on time," she said, voice low.
Joren swallowed, unsure if she meant it literally. He stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him with a quiet click.
The apartment looked the same—neat, warm, quiet. Nothing much had changed since the previous day. She walked ahead of him, barefoot, her hips swaying, the hem of her nightgown brushing against her thighs.
"Sit," she said, nodding toward the couch.
He did.
She moved to the kitchen, poured two glasses of wine, and returned. Handed him one without a word. Then she sat beside him, close but not touching.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she turned to him, her gaze steady. "You know why I called you here, don't you?"
He nodded, slowly.
"Good," she said, taking a sip of her wine.
She set her glass down, then turned to face him fully. Her eyes held his—steady, unreadable.
"Do you remember," she said slowly, "what you asked for… earlier today in my office?"
Joren didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Her voice dipped lower. "You said you'd keep quiet. But only if I gave you something in return. Something... worth your time."
She leaned in, just enough for her shoulder to brush his. "Remember when I told you we couldn't do it in my office?"
Joren's grip tightened slightly around his glass. The air between them felt warmer now, heavier.
"And here you are," she said, lips curving. "Evening. My place. Just like you wanted."
She let the words hang, then reached for her wine again, sipping slowly—like she had all the time in the world—then set the glass down with quiet precision.
Without a word, she swung one leg over his lap and settled there, straddling him. The nightgown rode up slightly, the soft flesh of her thighs brushing against his jeans. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, her face inches from his.
Joren froze—not out of fear, but focus. Her sudden movement made his body tense, a slow heat rising through him as he felt himself harden.
She shifted in his lap, adjusting her weight. The movement pressed her down against him, and she felt the shape of his erection through his jeans, firm against her core. Her eyes flicked down briefly, then back to his face. Her eyes searched his, slow and deliberate.
"You asked for something worth your time," she said, voice low, almost a whisper. "So I'm giving it to you."
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, then slid down to the collar of his shirt. "Unless you've changed your mind."
"I haven't," he said, barely above a breath.
"Good," she murmured, leaning in until her lips grazed his ear. "Then let's not waste the evening."
Her fingers moved to his chin, holding it up, and she leaned down to kiss him. The kiss was messy, their tongues intertwining as her hips ground against him. Joren could still taste the wine she drank on her tongue— that, and something that was uniquely hers. She pulled back after a while, her lips swollen.
"Mmm... You kiss better than I imagined."
Joren's eyes stayed on her lips as she pulled back, breath warm against his face. His voice came low, roughened by the kiss.
"Glad I didn't disappoint."
Professor Hart shifted again, grinding lightly against him, her nightgown now bunched around her waist. He could feel her dampness clearly now, the heat of her core.
Her hand slipped down, brushing over the front of his jeans, fingers pressing just enough to make him twitch. She looked at him once, then tugged at the waistband.
"Help me with this."
He helped her, lifting his hips as she pulled his jeans down, freeing his cock. Her nightgown followed, peeled off slowly, revealing her large breasts, the dip of her hip, and finally her delicate folds.
Joren's eyes dilated upon seeing how beautiful her body was, his cock twitching in response.
"Wow... you're beautiful," he gasped.
His hands roamed to her breasts, kneading the soft flesh. Hers were a lot softer and larger than those of Tasha and Lana. Her back arched beautifully as he teased her.
"Nnh... keep going..."
She moaned, her hands guiding his fingers lower to tease her wet folds.
Her breathing changed as his fingers made contact, her chest rising and falling faster now.
Then she reached for his shaft, positioning the tip just above her entrance with practiced ease.
And finally, she sank down.