I pushed open Professor Johnson’s office door without knocking, expecting to ask about my midterm grade. Instead I caught him pants around his ankles, cock in his fist, my Instagram photos glowing on his monitor. My face filled the screen: sunbathing shots, bikini pics, that one where my shorts ride up my ass. His hand froze mid-stroke when he saw me, but his cock stayed rock-hard and leaking almost as if he’s turned on by the fact he was caught jacking off.
“Egypt! Fuck, I-”
“Don’t stop,” I said, voice low. I shut the door and locked it, “Keep going.”
His face burned red, but his grip tightened again. I dropped my bag and stepped closer, watching the way his fist slid up and down his thick shaft. Precum dripped over his knuckles. I felt my panties grow slick.
“Jack off for me,” I told him, sliding down to my knees in front of him. I pull my sweatshirt over my head, exposing my tits to his hungry gaze. “Pretend you’re still alone. Show me how you stroke it when you think about my body.”
He groaned, pumping faster. His eyes flicked between the photos on the screen and the real me. I leaned against his desk, spreading my legs just enough that he could see the damp spot on my leggings. My nipples tightened to stiff peaks.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “Faster. Imagine bending me over this desk. Imagine how tight my pussy would feel around that cock.” My own hand drifted between my thighs, pressing against the seam. I didn’t touch myself fully, I wanted to stay in control, to watch him lose it.
Professor Johnson’s breathing turned ragged. His balls drew up tight. “Fuck! Egypt, I’m close-”
“Cum for me,” I ordered, voice steady, grabbing his cock. “Shoot it all over me while you look at my photos.” He came hard, ropes of cum painting my tits.
Egypt
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