Chapter 859 - 858- No Running from Here

Chapter 859: Chapter 858- No Running from Here

I kissed her. The motion, which was sudden and total, brought my mouth to hers. The contact, which was a collision, was a claim. My lips, pressing against hers, were warm. My tongue, pushing in, found hers. The taste, which was salt and fear and curiosity, filled my mouth.

She trembled. The kiss, which she did not resist, was a surrender. Her mouth, which had been closed, opened. Her tongue, which had been passive, moved. The kiss, which started as a claim, became a conversation.

I laid over her body. The motion, which was smooth and deliberate, brought my weight onto her. Her back, which had been against the bed, was pressed into the mattress. Her body, which was beneath me, was small. My cock, which had been hanging, was against her thigh. The shaft, which was hardening, was warm.

I pulled her skirt. The fabric, which was thin and simple, rode up. The hem, which had been at her knees, was at her thighs. The cloth, which had been covering her, was bunched at her waist. Her panties, which were cotton and white, were visible. The fabric, which was thin and slightly damp, clung to her pussy.

My hand went to her panty. The fabric, which was warm from her body, was soft. My fingers, finding the waistband, hooked. I pulled. The cotton, stretching, slid down. Her pussy, which had been covered, was exposed. The hair, which was dark and coarse, was a contrast to Seraphina’s blonde. The lips, which were full and pink, were visible. The slit, which was closed, was tight.

She moaned. The sound, which was muffled by the kiss, was a whimper. Her body, which had been still, trembled. Her hands, which had been at her sides, found my chest. Her fingers, which were gripping, were white.

"Professor," she gasped, pulling back from the kiss. "Slow down. At all. Please. Slow down."

I did not slow down. My fingers, which had been at her panty, moved. To her pussy. The hair, which was coarse and dark, was a forest. My fingers, finding the lips, traced the slit. The touch, which was light, was a tease. The lips, which had been closed, parted. The interior, which was pink and wet, was visible.

Both women looked at each other. Sofia, who was being kissed and fingered, looked at Seraphina. Seraphina, who was lying beside them, naked and spent, looked at Sofia. The exchange, which was silent and brief, was a recognition. Two women. One bed. One man. The same fate.

I parted from the kiss. The separation, which was accompanied by a string of saliva that stretched between our lips, was a pause. The string, which caught the lantern light, was thin and wet. It broke. The drop, falling onto her chin, was a mark.

"Can we all have sex?" I said. The question, which was directed at both women, was a proposal. The tone, which was casual and warm, was the tone of a man suggesting a dinner plan.

Sofia trembled. The word "all," which implied a group, was a concept that her mind could not process. The idea, which was obscene and impossible, was a wall that she could not climb.

"What?" she said. The word, which was barely a sound, was the word of a woman whose brain had crashed.

I climbed. Off Sofia. To the other side. The motion, which was deliberate, brought me to Seraphina. My hand, which found her wrist, pulled. The president, who had been lying limp, was dragged upright. Her body, which was spent, was heavy. Her eyes, which had been closed, opened. Dazed. Confused.

I gestured. Toward Sofia. The gesture, which was a command, was clear. Help me. Undress her.

Seraphina trembled. The command, which was not verbal but gestured, was understood. Her body, which had been conditioned, responded. She moved. Toward Sofia. Her hands, which had been at her sides, found the buttons of Sofia’s blouse.

Sofia’s eyes widened. The sight, of the class president reaching for her buttons, was a sight that she could not process. The woman, who had been her superior, who had inspected her and slapped her and questioned her, was now undressing her.

"Wait," Sofia said. Her voice, which was high and panicked, was the voice of a woman who was being undressed by another woman. "Do not do it. Please. Do not..."

I turned her face. My hand, on her chin, redirected her gaze. From Seraphina’s hands to my eyes. The violet, which was calm and warm, found her brown. The connection, which was a lock, held her.

"Shut up," I said. The words, which were not harsh but firm, were a command. Not a request. Not a suggestion. An order. The tone, which was the tone of a professor to a student, was a boundary. A line that she could not cross.

I pulled her blouse. The fabric, which had been buttoned, opened. The buttons, which had been fastened, popped. The cloth, which had been covering her, fell away. Her breasts, which were perky and full, were exposed. The flesh, which was light and smooth, was a contrast to Seraphina’s pale heaviness. The nipples, which were dark and prominent, were stiff. The areolas, which were wide and textured, were pebbled.

I gestured for the president. The command, which was silent, was clear. Grab her from here. Her hand, on my shoulder, followed my pointing finger. To Sofia’s left breast.

Seraphina, whose body was moving on autopilot, leaned. Her mouth, which had been dry, found Sofia’s breast. The nipple, which was dark and stiff, was against her lips. She sucked. The motion, which was tentative at first, became firm. The nipple, which was sensitive, responded. Sofia gasped. The sound, which was sharp and involuntary, was the sound of a woman whose breast was being sucked by another woman.

"What..." Sofia said. The word, which was a gasp, was the word of a woman who was being overwhelmed. "Woman... embarrassed... what is..."

I chuckled. The sound, which was warm and amused, was the sound of a man who was enjoying the show. My hand, on Seraphina’s head, guided her. The motion, which was gentle, was a direction. Suck harder. The president, who was conditioned, obeyed. The suction, which had been tentative, became strong. The nipple, which had been stiff, went harder. The milk, which had been stimulated by the incubus energy, began to leak.

Sofia cried out. The sensation, which was the feeling of another woman sucking her breast, was new. The warmth, the wetness, the suction. All of it was a violation of everything she had been taught. Women did not do this to women. Women did not suck each other’s breasts. Women did not...

I grabbed Sofia’s boob. My hand, which had been on Seraphina’s head, moved. Found Sofia’s right breast. Squeezed. The flesh, which was perky and firm, was a contrast to the president’s heavy softness. I groped. The nipple, which was dark and stiff, was hard between my fingers.

"Good girl," I said. The words, which were directed at Seraphina, were a praise. The president, who was sucking Sofia’s breast, responded to the praise. Her body, which had been tense, relaxed. Her mouth, which had been sucking, worked harder. The milk, which was flowing, hit her tongue.

I looked down. At Seraphina’s ass, which was raised as she leaned over Sofia. The cheeks, which were thick and round, were pale. The slit, which was visible between them, was wet. The cum, which had been leaking from her pussy, was running down her thighs.