How I rushed to my boyfriend for our anniversary

Spring is in the air and the sun is slowly starting to warm our little town. The buds on the trees are beginning to open and give the townspeople their fresh scent. And if it's still cold in the morning and evening, then at lunchtime, from time to time, such heat sets in that you have absolutely no idea how you should have dressed this morning so as not to freeze when leaving the apartment, and not die from the heat at lunchtime. So I've been asking myself this question for a week now. Early in the morning, I run to classes because the university is very close, so I don't have to wait for the bus for long. Classes usually go until 3 or 4 PM, then I go home to my place or to my boyfriend's. And I always want to look

beautiful and elegant at the university, and sexy and enchanting at my boyfriend's in the evening, but so far I've only managed to either run to classes with blue legs in a dress and heels to feel like a queen after about 11 o'clock, or in jeans, sneakers, and a leather jacket, enjoying the warmth and comfort of my limbs, calmly walking to classes in the morning, only to then take off everything I possibly can and go to my boyfriend's all sweaty. You always have to make a choice, and sometimes not the most reasonable one, especially if you're a girl.

Today was one of those confusing spring days when, in the morning at +12°C, I ran to my first class on East Asian culture of the mid-8th century in my pale blue dress, knitted shawl, and beige heels on thin high stilettos, and I was definitely late. Of course, men turned to look at me, and even some women. I think that often happens when you're a pretty 19-year-old girl, and in a dress with heels to boot, but honestly, I thought some of them turned around to see who the fool was who dressed up like that in such cold weather.

When I finally made it to the classroom, I quietly sat down at the very back desk, hoping they wouldn't start scolding me for being late. Yet again. But Nikolai Alexandrovich just threw a stern glance in my direction and said, "Nikitina, come to room 312 after class. That's my office. I'll wait for you personally," and continued to lecture about the glorious era of the samurai.

Honestly, from the look in his piercing gray eyes, I felt very uneasy. I was actually in a good mood this morning; today was our anniversary with my boyfriend, 2 years together. That's actually why I dressed up like that. We wanted to go to the most posh restaurant in our city, which we normally can't afford on other days, then take a walk along the embankment sparkling with colorful lights, where we had our first kiss, and then buy a couple of bottles of cheap wine at Auchan, crash at his place, and have crazy sex. So, I spent the whole class anticipating the evening plans when suddenly the bell rang and I had to trudge to another classroom for English class. Already in the hallway in the dense flow of hurrying students, I suddenly felt someone grab my elbow. Right above my ear, I heard the sonorous baritone of Nikolai Alexandrovich:

"Today at 3:00 PM, I'm expecting you, dear, at my place. For once in your life, try not to be late!"

I was even a little scared and didn't come to my senses right away as he disappeared into the stream of students. Feeling disconcerted, I trudged in the direction of the classroom I needed, typing a message to my boyfriend on the go that I would have to stay late and I didn't know exactly for how long. I felt terribly awkward because he had barely managed to book a table for that time just for our anniversary, and now he would have to wait for me there. And all because some jerk wanted to scold me for being late today of all days!

In English class, I again wanted to indulge in thoughts about what a good (or bad?) girl I would be today, how I would ask Max for forgiveness for being late, how I would fulfill all his desires at night, but 5 minutes after the class started, the teacher handed out sheets with 50-question tests and said to finish in 20 minutes, and then there would be an essay on some stupid topic like Environmental Protection, so I had to focus.

Then there was International Economics, which frankly made me want to sleep, it was so boring. Thankfully, my beloved didn't let me completely pass out. He wrote that I shouldn't worry too much about some idiot, whose wife probably hasn't given him any for a long time, wanting to spend a little time alone with a pretty sophomore under the pretext of a serious conversation. That somehow amused me. Probably because I didn't believe that Nikolai Alexandrovich wasn't getting any from his wife, since he's not some old geezer, but a man in his prime, around 45. He's tall, in good shape, with thick dark hair with a slight gray at the temples, always in a suit, with a tie, and clean-shaven. Every time I look at him, I can't understand what he's even doing at our university; he should be filming "Ocean's Eleven" with Clooney and Pitt. He was liked by absolutely all the ladies at our institute: from the buffet lady Aunt Valya to the 60-year-old deputy dean for educational work, Maria Sergeevna. But he was always very strict, and I never saw him joke or smile, so flirting with him was simply scary, I swear.

My thoughts were interrupted by a new text from Max; he suddenly asked me to take a picture of my legs. He knew I would be in a dress today, so he was looking forward to seeing my long, slender legs in all their glory. It was his personal fetish. And I really liked it because I knew that only my legs turned him on. I slipped my hand under the desk, hiked up the hem of my dress as high as possible, and took a couple of pictures. I'm sure he'll like them. After a couple of minutes, I got a reply—he described in full detail how he would pull off my tights himself, gently kiss each of my toes, lick my heels, then slowly kissing my feet, and then my legs, he would gently move upward... Mmm, my imagination went wild, and I was ready to fly to his place right after the bell, thinking that I didn't need any restaurant or moonlit walks. But suddenly I remembered that I was actually expected, and just ditching wouldn't work. Ugh... So much time wasted...

After class, I ran to the restroom to take care of business and "powder my nose." In principle, I didn't look as awful as I thought. Long chestnut hair in large, carefully curled morning curls fell right to my chest and even a little lower, the dress still fit perfectly, and considering I hadn't eaten anything all day, my stomach was flat, which further emphasized my thin waist. Refreshing my face with a soft pink lipstick, I decided it was time to go and face the music. The main thing is not to be late.

Finding Mr. Nesmeyana's office 312, I timidly knocked. Hearing a quiet but clear "Come in," I pressed the handle and the door gave way easily. The office was bright but not very cozy. Probably because Nikolai Alexandrovich was half-standing, half-sitting on his desk, looking at his wristwatch, carefully counting the seconds until 3:00 PM. He didn't even turn in my direction.

"Well, well, for the first time in my memory, Nikitina is not late!" this jerk exclaimed with fake joy.

"I'm sorry that I'm constantly late. You see, I can be on time. From now on, I will always do that in your classes. Can I go now?"

"Oh, are you in a hurry? Can you even hurry! I'm shocked, honestly, that you even know how to do that,"—for the first time, I saw his lips stretch into a smirk. "In that case, make yourself comfortable; we're going to talk a lot and for a long time today about what a student should do in class."

With a gesture, he invited me to sit in the chair in front of his desk. Sighing heavily and cursing this whole shady outfit to myself, I took a couple of steps and sank into the chair right in front of him. I suddenly thought that I had never been so close to him and hadn't noticed how deliciously he smelled of Hugo Boss.

"Yulia, please tell me, what are you constantly thinking about, sitting in my classes, dreamily rolling your eyes?" after a short pause, Nikolai Alexandrovich finally asked.

My hands involuntarily began to fidget and crumple the hem of my dress. In my thoughts, I frantically began to sort through all possible and plausible answers, because honestly admitting that in 95 cases out of 100 I think about how Max will have me today or had me yesterday. I remember everything that's already happened and think about what we haven't tried yet but definitely need to. Sex in the car in a big shopping center parking lot, in a changing room, oral sex in a movie theater, in an entrance hallway, crazy fucking at a friend's place when a bunch of guests are celebrating something behind the wall... So much has happened and so much more awaits...

"I'm waiting for an answer," the sonorous baritone interrupted the flow of my memories. Damn, again I completely forgot that I wasn't alone and had to give a coherent answer.

I raised my eyes and for the first time during the meeting, met his gaze. All this time, he had been looking at me with his deep, dark gray eyes, like a hungry wolf studying its prey, waiting for the right moment to attack. My palms sweated, and, lowering my gaze to the floor, I mumbled:

"Oh, you know... About various household matters...," I blurted out utter nonsense and for some reason added, "about my boyfriend and stuff... Various things."

"Various things?!" his voice held genuine surprise and sarcasm. "Could you be more specific? What's in your head that's more important than Japanese culture in my classes?"

"Run, woman, run from here before you blurt out even more nonsense!" my common sense screamed at the top of its lungs. I glanced at my wristwatch and realized that a good 20 minutes had already passed since I'd been stuck in this cage with a dangerous beast. Time to bail. Gathering the remnants of my willpower, I abruptly stood up and took a step toward the door, mumbling something about "I'm actually expected," but my teacher with incredible agility overtook me and blocked the way to the door, standing right in front of me. He grabbed me by the wrist, and I felt how hot his palms were. It seemed like he had a fever.

"Wait a minute, dear! Where are you rushing off to? To your boyfriend, I suppose?" his face maintained a mask of seriousness, but his voice frankly held mockery. "Besides, you haven't answered my question, and I don't like it when my questions are ignored. Even by such pretty girls as you."

Oh my God, he called me pretty! Is he really trying to hit on me, and the accusations of being late are just a pretext, and Max was right from the start? Crazy.

"If you're really that interested, then I'm thinking about how my boyfriend and I made love or will make love. And yes, that is certainly much more interesting than whatever you're feeding us about East Asian culture, sorry!" I was shocked by my own audacity, but apparently, I wasn't going to get rid of this horny jerk the nice way.

"Oh-ho-ho, how cheeky we can be! And you look like such a modest girl, who would have thought!"

Nikolai Alexandrovich took a small step, reducing the distance between us to a couple of centimeters. I felt terribly awkward and ashamed. I felt like a rabbit cornered by a hungry and dangerous predator. My legs felt like lead, and my heart was about to jump out of my chest. And suddenly I realized that this feeling of danger and that such an adult and incredibly hot man wanted me was arousing. I felt my panties getting wet. He smelled intoxicatingly... sexy, sort of. The pause between me and Nikolai Alexandrovich dragged on. It seemed to me he knew the effect he had on girls and women, and was waiting for me to just throw myself at him, because, honestly, I was already ready.

"Ah, you little bitch!" he whispered, leaning close to my ear. His hot breath almost left a burn on my neck. God, how much I already wanted him! For the first time in two years, I wanted another man, completely forgetting that somewhere out there, in a restaurant, my boyfriend was waiting for me. In ecstasy, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the scent of his hot, strong body.

"Kiss me," I finally whispered in exhaustion. I understood how damn ridiculous and even humiliating this was, so I was afraid to open my eyes and see his surely mocking gaze and smug smirk. So I stood there with my eyes closed, afraid to breathe.

It seemed like millions of seconds passed between my phrase and the moment I felt his palm on my waist. I had already timidly opened my mouth, preparing to catch his lips, when suddenly his hand grabbed the hair on the back of my head and forcefully pulled it down. My head tilted back, and his lips, with the passion of a wolf starved for the meat of a young lamb, sank into my neck. Nikolai Alexandrovich kissed my neck, sometimes gently, sometimes passionately, occasionally lightly biting it. He went down toward my cleavage, then went up, kissing my chin and earlobes, but still not touching my lips, which I wanted so terribly. Meanwhile, the hand on my waist moved up to my chest and began to gently knead it. His thumbs began making circular motions where my nipple should be, and very soon it became hard and began to noticeably protrude through the thin lace of my bra and the fabric of the dress. I made several desperate attempts to lower my head and catch his lips for a kiss, but each time he pulled my hair down hard and continued to torment my neck with kisses.

Unexpectedly, the hand from my chest slid down my waist to my hip. The other hand finally released the hair on the back of my head. He firmly grabbed my ass and quietly ordered: "Turn around." I obeyed and turned my back to him. My teacher gently pushed me from behind toward the desk, making it clear he wanted me to approach it. When there was less than half a meter between me and the desk, he ordered me to stop. I understood what was going to happen now and fully anticipated how I was about to be fucked on the teacher's desk.

Suddenly, my phone rang. I turned around and was about to move toward the chair where my purse was, but Nikolai Alexandrovich stopped me with a look. He himself pulled the phone out of my purse and, seeing who was calling, smirked. Guessing it was Max, I reached out for the phone. Strangely, the teacher calmly handed me the device. I answered the call:

"Hi. Listen, will you be much longer?" Max asked with obvious irritation in his voice.

"Sorry, sweetie, I can't say for sure," I replied in the saddest voice I could muster. I felt that He was watching me very attentively and listening to every word I said.

"Well, babe, well, order something, I'll try to free myself as soon as possible,"—naturally, this was a brazen lie, as I perfectly understood that no one would leave this room until late evening. "This Nikolai Alexandrovich is such a jerk, I swear. He's fed up with lecturing me like I'm some schoolgirl to him."

The whole time I was speaking, He stood opposite me and simply watched, but after the last words, he came close, turned me with my back to him, and whispered: "Bend over." While I was listening to the outpourings of my boyfriend's righteous anger toward my teacher, this very teacher hiked up the hem of my dress,

gently lowered my tights and panties to my ankles, and with careful movements began to massage my ass, occasionally lightly running his thumbs over my crotch, as if teasing.

"Yul, listen, if it's dragging on so much, maybe it's better for me to just buy pizza, wine, and wait for you at my place? Maybe screw that restaurant?"

"Yes, I think that's a great idea, because I don't think I'll be able to slip away from this idiot anytime soon,"—on the words "this idiot," I got a good spank on the ass. I let out a barely audible cry, after which followed another spank and a quiet hiss: "Not a sound, bitch. Talk as if I'm not here. Understood?" and I nodded.

"In that case, I'll leave here... I don't really like it here anyway, to be honest. Everyone's so pretentious. A bunch of sugar daddies with young whores and ladies over 40 in pearls and diamonds..."—while my beloved continued to rant about the restaurant's clientele, I felt the hot fingers of the "sugar daddy