Ginger Fox

Thirty years later

“Tom, I’m home!” I shout, dropping my bag on the floor as soon as I walk through the door and closing it with my foot.

I take off my shirt and throw it on the table. The skirt slides down my legs quickly, making it easy for me to get rid of it. I’m excited, with my panties wet and my breasts throbbing. Maybe the blame for my sexual hunger at that moment was the erotic story I received in the group on the cell phone app. My mother would say that ordinary people don’t waste time reading erotic stories. Well, to her despair, I’m not ordinary at all. I had already spent hours reading every detail and dirty words, like: pussy, ass, pussy, big dick, among others in the vast porn vocabulary. On the short walk from the college campus to my apartment, I was excited by every detail described in the erotic story. Okay, the title didn't help much: "I fucked the traffic light's young girl", and even so, anyone who looked at me with my cell phone in my hand, so focused on the story of the dick being pounded until the balls stuck to her ass, who was euphorically fucking a stranger, would think it was just a research on mathematics and economics, or just a routine reading, and not about the harmony of the union of bodies, described in a vulgar way. I am sexually curious, both physically and mentally. Anything related to sex and cum attracts me, leaving me fascinated with how our bodies react, both visually and in our imagination.

Because yes!

The great G-spot, among men and women, is not the dick or the pussy, but the brain. It is the largest sexual machine in our bodies. You imagine, fantasize, desire, and automatically the sexual members respond. Freud, who is the father of psychoanalysis, was the great discoverer of sexuality, showing the world that his patients with hysteria were not crazy women, but rather sexually frustrated. And if not even Freud could resist the charm of carnal pleasures, how can I, a curious girl with an imaginative and uncontrolled mind, resist? Sexuality is a draw for me, so much so that it was for this reason that I wanted to be a sexologist, but Tom, in collusion with my mother, did not think that such a training would be appropriate.

And since when does knowledge have to be appropriate?

But the truth is that Tom aspires to something big for himself, his dream is to get into some strong newspaper, to become a promising anchor[2], which is why he disdains a sexologist's training, which he considers inappropriate for his partner. Always willing to please him, I found myself exchanging Freud's theories for mathematics and foreign calculations, and facing the college of Administration, but that doesn't stop me from spending my free time, during my class breaks, infiltrating the psychoanalysis auditorium, attending some classes and lectures.

"I'm in the classroom!" His deep voice answers me. The bra goes the same way as the rest of my clothes.

I enter the classroom, I see him sitting in shorts and no shirt, with his laptop turned on. His square glasses give him a concentrated look, so incorruptible and extremely sexy, making me imagine Tom as a high school teacher, who makes his students have erotic dreams.

"Tom, I want to fuck!" His surprised face looks up at me, only having time to push the laptop aside.

My body is already on top of his. His large, soft hands don't bring any roughness as they press against my ass. I kiss him hungrily, moving my hips, rubbing my wet panties against his soccer shorts. His limp cock, hidden under the fabric, reacts, giving a pulse when I grind my hips a bit more. That’s what I love about Tom. It can be anytime, and yet his cock is always ready for me. I slide my hands across his chest, scratching him until my fingers slip inside his shorts, freeing the part of his body I love. His happy cock pulses again, hardening in my fingers as I stroke it, signaling that it’s ready to join the fun.

Oh, yes! Without a doubt, Tom is my sexy, hot professor, fucking me on this couch!

"The window..." His voice is muffled between my lips, which don’t let him escape from the kisses. "The window is open, Gim..."

"Leave it..." I bite his chin, sliding my tongue down his throat.

"It needs to be closed..."

My other hand is quick, pulling my panties aside, and before Tom can anticipate, I take him deep inside me.

"Oh, shit!" He throws his head back against the couch.

I grab onto the couch's backrest, trapping his head between my arms, gripping the leather tightly. My body is on fire, riding like an Amazon, and the mere thought of the open window excites me even more since the apartment across the street has a clear view of our living room. My mind completely shifts the scenario. Tom is my professor, and we’re fucking in the teacher’s lounge, where we could get caught at any moment, busted, and the risk drives us wild. I rotate my hips, grinding, moving with his cock inside me, soaking it with all the lubrication, rubbing my breasts against his chest. The race hasn’t even hit the first curve when Tom tightly squeezes my hips, flooding me, his body trembling.

"Fuck, Gim!" His loud voice makes me open my eyes, seeing his mouth contorting, eyes shut.

He came in less than three minutes, kicking my fantasy straight into the trash can. He holds my hips so I can’t move anymore, and inside, my body aches, begging to continue. His head lifts, but Tom shows no expression of someone who’s going to finish the job. He’s serious, giving me that disapproving look he reserves for when I say something inappropriate in front of his colleagues.

"What’s wrong?" I look down, knowing his cock is shrinking, leaving me with a hollow feeling.

"What’s gotten into you?" His voice is harsh and short. He pushes me off him, leaving me alone on the couch.

Tom adjusts his cock inside his shorts, glaring at me in a bad mood. I’m still euphoric, craving more of his cock, and not understanding what I did wrong.

"Do you realize the risk we took? Look at the damn open window!" He points toward the window.

"No one saw, our neighbors are at work at this hour..." I raise my fingers, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"But what if someone had seen, Gim?!" Tom is angry. The trembling corner of his mouth assures me he’s furious.

"No one saw. And it wouldn’t be the end of the world if the neighbor had seen us being a normal couple..." I stop myself. His raised eyebrow is the end of the line, warning me not to keep talking.

"Normal?! There’s nothing normal about this! This isn’t proper behavior for a woman who’s a few days away from graduation!" If there was any remaining arousal in my body, it packs its bags and leaves with that shitty phrase that just came out of his mouth.

At what point was it decided that a woman can’t have an education and feel horny at the same time? Who said that feeling pleasure isn’t normal? I gather my frustration, let out a long sigh, and watch Tom walk to the window and close the curtains. He returns without looking at me. Then he picks up the laptop, holding it in his arms.

"We haven't had sex in a while, I missed it..."

"You just had to say so. We could’ve scheduled a time instead of acting like a teenager who can't control her hormones."

Scheduled?

This is really going from bad to worse. An eighty-year-old man would give me a more active sex life than Tom, with his thirty-one years. Scarce sex for quite some time, few words exchanged, and now we have to schedule a time to have sex!

"Sometimes you make me doubt if you’re really mature, Gim. I’m going to finish my work in the bedroom." He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs. He punishes me with his absence when he says, "I’m going," because I know I’m not being invited to join him. "I’ll have a golden opportunity with this internship in California. It’s going to be important for my career, for us." It’s not for us! The truth is, it will only be good for him, for his career, his future, and I feel disheartened thinking that my future is nothing more than being Tom’s shadow. "I can't focus on this if I have to worry about your inappropriate behavior. Start behaving like the woman you’re supposed to be."

He leaves me sitting on the couch, wearing nothing but panties, with a swollen pussy, sexually frustrated, and repressed. I feel that every day that passes in my life, I disappoint myself more, with my essence fading, a sad soul that screams one thing inside my mind:

Let me be free!