Chapter 32 Vignette 31
We hadn’t planned to end up in a one-bed motel room on the side of the highway after the departmental awards dinner. He had offered to drop me off but the rain had other ideas—and by the time the storm turned the road into a river, it was either this… or stay stranded together in his car all night.
The rain hadn’t let up for over an hour.
It beat against the motel roof like a war drum, relentless and cold—completely at odds with the heat simmering in the small, dimly lit room.
I stood near the window, watching the water trail down the glass in messy rivulets, pretending I wasn’t hyper-aware of the man behind me. His presence filled the space—broad, calm, and dangerous in the way only something strictly off-limits could be.
He was not just soaked, he was handsome in his wet state, looked hotter and a little younger despite the subtle strands of grey hair that highlighted his middle aged face. His dark shirt clinged to his chest, the faint outline of muscle visible through the thin fabric. Water dripped from his jawline, and I couldn’t tell if it was the storm or something inside me that made my breath hitch.
“You alright?” he asked, voice low—too low. Like it belonged somewhere darker than the classroom.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. My hands were trembling, and I didn’t want him to see.
But he did. He always notices things about me—things no one else did.
“Do you feel cold?” he added, stepping closer. His eyes met mine in the window’s reflection. That look… It wasn’t the same one he wore in lectures. This one was raw. Male. Unfiltered.
“N-not really,” I whispered.
He stopped just behind me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his body—so close it made my skin ache. For a second, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the rain and the rapid pounding of my heart.
“We shouldn’t be here together. It's even worse that we're alone.” I said, almost to myself.
“Maybe not,” he murmured, his breath brushing the back of my neck. “But we are.”
Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in a burst of white. His hand came up—slow, deliberate—and tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear. His fingers didn’t move away.
“I’ve noticed you,” he said simply. “In class. The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching.”
I froze.
“You think I haven’t imagined this?” he went on, his voice a velvet growl. “You, drenched in rain, mouth parted, trembling… and just close enough to touch.”
He turned me around gently, one hand at my waist, the other still cupping my face. His gaze dropped from my face to my cleavage and he bit his lips.
“You were created perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough, eyes dull with something I couldn’t name.
I stepped back, breath catching. The space between us suddenly felt too small.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I rubbed my upper arms, more to gather my scattered thoughts than warm myself. “We should… maintain a healthy distance till we’re able to get out of here,” I mumbled, barely above a whisper. I looked away, but I knew he heard me. “You’re my professor. We don’t want to make decisions we’ll regret.”
His expression didn’t change, but his voice softened—lower, almost fatherly. “At least change your clothes, or you’ll catch a cold.”
I looked down at myself. My soaked black bodycon dress clung tightly to my skin, revealing far more than I was comfortable with. My arms were dotted with goosebumps, and I could feel my hair still dripping along my spine. It was awkward yet something in the air was stirring me in ways I didn’t want to admit.
“I would,” I said carefully, “but I have no spare clothes.”
“Maybe you should check the bathroom for any cozy robe. That would do for the night.”
I nodded and walked slowly, shivery to the bathroom where I found just one white cozy robe. I changed into it and returned to the room. He was already laying on his side, on the couch, the only blanket in the room covered him from shoulders to toes. His wet clothes hung on a rack near the wardrobe.
I guessed he was already asleep so I laid on the small bed and folded myself into a spoon, trying to shield myself from the cold I still felt despite the woolen robes. But then I heard his voice behind me.
“If you feel really cold, you can have the blanket.”
I didn't turn, “You can have the blanket, I'll just manage on my own.”
But he insisted, “come on, I don't want you falling sick. I'm older and you need the blanket more than me.”
I didn't want to extend the argument so I got out of the bed and strode to the couch where he laid. I gently pulled the blanket off him and quickly looked away from the view in front of me. He only put on a boxer brief.
“You should have worn clothes.” I didn't look but I heard a light chuckle from him.
I went over to the bed and covered myself, trying to force myself to sleep. But consistently, my eyes drifted back to my professor who was crunched up on his couch, the cold dealing with him. I had never seen him out of his usual composed in-control professor self.
The more I looked at him in the vulnerable state, the more selfish I felt, but I also needed the blanket. The only option left was to share it. Maybe we can both be adults about this. I thought.
I hesitated before speaking, “Sir, we can share the blanket if you don't mind.”
“Are you sure that's what you want?”
“Yeah, let's just try to be composed until we're able to get out of here.”
He sat up, eyes unreadable, then stepped off the couch and started toward me.
The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge, the blanket held loosely in one hand. I shifted slightly, giving him room, heart thudding like it had no rhythm to follow. The robe clung to me where my skin was still damp, and I could feel his gaze drift—just for a second—before he slid under the blanket beside me.
We laid in silence. Close, but not touching.
His warmth seeped across the narrow space between us, subtle but undeniable. I could hear every breath he took. Slow. Measured. Controlled. Too controlled.
And I hated how much I was aware of him.
How the tension stretched across the small bed like a live wire, daring either of us to move, to say something, to do something.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low—barely above the hum of the rain outside.
I nodded, facing the ceiling. “Just trying to sleep.”
I prayed silent prayers hoping nothing forbidden happens between us. I was a rough sleeper and I tried to stay conscious so as to not roll too close to him. But a few minutes after I fell asleep, I jolted to realization after I hit something long and hard behind me. I quickly opened my eyes and turned around. My professor was holding his long, veiny shaft just above the band of his boxer brief. My eyes widened and came in contact with his, then down at the shaft and up at him again.
“What are you doing?!” I yelled. His eyes remained dull, calm and rounder.
“You make me hard, Sera,”
My brows raised and I quickly sat up on the bed but he spoke again before I could open my mouth to yell again.
“I'm dying here, Sera, I need something to calm it down.”
His voice was so calm and it stirred me up. I didn't know what to do but I suddenly felt the need to help him. The silence and the tension gave him more room to plead.
“Please, Sera, I promise to not penetrate.”
My heart thudded in my ears. The rain hitting the roof, the storm outside, the thick shaft in front of me, and his pleas made me feel a desire for him. This was the exact situation I tried to avoid.
“Please,” he said softly and put his hand on my thighs.
“Promise that you won't penetrate no matter what happens.” I requested, still unsure.
“I promise, dear.”
Then I slowly turned around, my face a mask of uncertainty. He lifted my robe and placed his hand on my bare as. I had taken off my clothes completely since they were all soaked and I had tied the robes on my bare body—nothing beneath.
The next thing that touched me after his hands was his thick shaft, long and veiny. He hit it on my as then down to the middle of my as cheeks. I closed my eyes and bit a large portion of my lower lip, my hand under my head. He was my professor, it didn't feel right. But I wasn't heartless enough to not help him in the least way possible.
He began to slide his shaft up and down. My breath increased with every round. I heard him groan continuously, his breath hit against my neck and a moan escaped my lips. I quickly cupped my hands to my mouth. I really didn't want to give him the slightest hint that I was enjoying what he was doing so he wouldn't go further.
He gripped my as cheeks tighter and continued to glide against my psy. The dry hump was turning wet as my juices began to drip out. I tried to muffle my moans but not the gasps—they were out of control. My heart raced faster as I gripped the sheets with one hand.
He didn't ask me, he started pressing his shaft inside me. My wetness made it effortless and delicious as he continued to go deeper, really really slowly. I tightened my eyes, more and more moans continued to escape my lips. My professor’s cck filled my psy. It was so long that it hit my base and there were still inches left to enter inside me. He continued to push it in until he was balls deep in me.
I screamed and he began slamming me in a speed motion, his balls clapped with my as and the sound alongside my moans and his groans filled the room. It was getting intense with every passing minute. His hands reached for my robe and he drew it loose. He located my brsts and he cupped one in his hand. He pinched my nipple hard and as if that was not enough, he took his hand to my thigh and lifted my leg. He adjusted even closer to get the best of my psy and when he was completely inside me again, he went slowwww.
My professor was grounding me, two seconds, one thrust. I pulled my hand backward and grabbed his neck, dragging his face into my neck. He began sucking me right there. His bite and sucks matched perfectly with the slow pace of the fck and I just couldn't control it anymore, he was fcking experienced!
I pulled down my legs, trapping his cck in. He grabbed my breasts and squeezed them while my release and his seed met right inside my psy. Our faces were covered in pleasure. He pulled out of me and the juices spilled out.
That moment was when I returned to my senses that I had just fcked my professor.