STRETCHED BY THE STUDENT

"I whimpered as Lance wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pushed me to my knees. There it was, under his college desk: thick, throbbing, ready for my mouth."

When cocky linebacker Lance comes into class one day and begins flirting with me, I take pause. I'm so unfulfilled. So pent up. Why is Lance, my straight student,flirting with me? He's the star player of the college football team. He's also my worst student. While I stay back grading papers every night, he's slacking off. Gallivanting around with whatever pretty girl catches his attention that day.

But then he struts by my desk and winks at me. Smirks and leans over me with his barely-washed off athlete musk. Moans at the back of the class as his hand pumps beneath the desk. I can't help myself. I have to let him take my throat. I have to let him spank me. Humiliate me. Degrade me.

When the outline of Lance's gray sweatpants highlights every thick inch of his bulge, what am I supposed to do? Not follow him to the back of the classroom? Not drop to my knees?