top of page

The Tutorial

By Wicked Wench | Erotic sex art by Samarel


'Vintage Sex'

Canvas print size 18"x28"

The brisk November air swirls around me, biting through my clothing and stinging my cheeks as I make the trek to your office. Our last tutorial, discussing the possibility of being deeply shallow, was cut quite short when your lust overcame you and you fucked me, like a whore, over your desk. Since that moment, I have thought of little else than the feel of your hard shaft, pulsing within me, impaling me, and of your tongue licking me clean after your orgasm. I must admit that I am now using our tutorials as an excuse to act out any sexual fantasy that I have.


I run through the autumn twilight and knock on your office door. It is unusual for you to be here so late, but nevertheless you are. I hope that you are as engaged and addicted to these tutorials as I am. You are behind your desk, looking magnificently erotic in your slacks and button-down shirt. You motion me into my office and I cannot help but notice that your eyes flick to my footwear~ fire engine red Mary Jane stilettos. Your gaze runs up the length of my legs, meeting the border of my topcoat that protects me from the wind. Appreciation and lust sparks in your eyes, but you are all business.


"I have pondered the possibility at great length," you begin, "the possibility that one can be deeply shallow. . ." Your voice goes on and you begin to fill me in on your musings since our last meeting. I cannot help but watch the movement of your lips, the way they form each letter. It is very erotic, as you warm to the subject and continue, to watch your lips as they caress each phoneme. I feel myself growing wet, shift in my chair, and begin to rub my clit with my fingers; softly at first, then with increasing urgency.


You continue with your dissertation, but I know that you can see me playing with myself. Your speech stutters momentarily, but you find your feet and continue. I see you shift, and my eyes are drawn to your erection, pressing so pleadingly against your zipper. I have not seen your cock, have only felt it, dreamed of it, and I long for the feel of it against my lips. My tongue sneaks out and caresses my bottom lip as I think of taking all of you in my mouth. I shrug out of my coat and reveal the red vinyl dress that have a deep v in the front and back, laced with bright red string. I open my legs before you and begin to finger fuck my cunt, sliding first one, then two, and finally three fingers inside of me. They glisten with my juice and I watch you. You clear your throat and I can see your cock twitching beneath your slacks, as if it, too, had eyes and could see the vision before it. I stand and feel my juice slither down the inside of my thighs. I walk forward toward you, purposefully, stalking you as a panther stalks its prey.


When I reach you, I stand before you, my breathing heavy and quick. I put my hands on your chest and push, and you collapse into your seat. As you sit, I tell you how much I long for these meetings, how I shall make up any excuse necessary for them to continue. You watch me, those blue eyes every-thoughtful and assessing. My hands stroke your chest lovingly, running quickly over the fabric of your shirt. I lean forward and kiss your neck, smelling your scent, and running my tongue over your frantic pulse point. My hands grasp the two sides of your shirt and yank, and the buttons collapse under such pressure, flying this way and that, as I bare your chest. My tongue greedily travels the exposed skin, pausing to circle over your nipples. My teeth nip quickly, sharply, then my tongue follows, easing the sting. Meanwhile, my hands are finally caressing your tumescent shaft.


You valiantly continue with the debate, but I am not focusing on your words, I am focusing on your body and its reaction to me. My hands make short work of the fastenings on your pants, and you spring forth, your cock rigid and attentive, a soldier ready for battle. I slid down on my knees and blow soft gusts of breath over the head of your cock. So large, so beautiful, it commands my complete attention. I flick my tongue over the length of your shaft and hear you inhale sharply. Your hands reach for me, but I tell you to leave them on the armrests. Your hands grip that tightly, so that the white of your knuckles show, and I reward you for your compliance by taking your turgid cock between my lips. My mouth is a velvety soft, warm haven, closing about your penis like a glove. I suck at you greedily, lapping up the drops of precum as they arise. My hands stroke sharp nails lightly up the inside of your thighs, then cup your sac and fondle while I caress your cock with my mouth.


Your eyes never leave me, but our discussion has ceased yet again. I see the want, the need in your eyes, and it inflames me, pushes me on and encourages me to express all of my desire for you. I reach into my dress and free my breasts, lean forward, and place your cock between my tits. "Fuck me, fuck my tits," I invite, and you hastily comply. My ample tits surround your cock, and while you fuck me, I twist the nipples. You thrust upward, and I take you into my mouth, releasing you on your descent, then welcoming you again and again as you fuck me. I feel your ball sac, heavy against my tits, and I squirm. I am so close to orgasm, just from you fucking me. I reach down and begin to twist my clit, invade my cunt, as you continue to fuck my tits. "I want you to cum on my tits," I whisper encouragingly, as your cock bumps against my lips, penetrates them, and receives the adoration of my tongue. Your thrusts increase and you growl, "You are a filthy bitch… now you'll get what all filthy whores get."


The tone of your voice, the choice of your words, excites me like nothing else and I begin to cum on my fingers just as you arch and spill your seed across my breasts, cheeks and mouth. You sag in your chair, the force of your eruption surprising you, and you assess me, as always. I stand and you can see the wetness from my orgasm glistening on my thighs, just inside of the hem of the short vinyl dress. Once again, the merits of the topic have been rescheduled. "See you again soon, Professor", I say breathlessly, as I slowly exit the office, maximizing the sway of my hips for your gaze alone.

bottom of page