Excerpt - A Baumgartner Valentine

Selena Kitt

“Everything all right in there?” Henry called, knocking.

“Fine!” she called, out of breath from all the furniture moving. “Almost ready!”

She just had to get dressed.

Stockings, garters, heels, short shirt, low-cut blouse—no panties of course—along with a pair of glasses. They were reading glasses that had been in the journalism department’s lost and found for two months, so she didn’t think twice about borrowing them.

She perched herself on the “desk,” next to the textbooks, crossing her legs and trying to calm her fluttering nerves, before calling Henry in.

His jaw dropped when he opened the door.

“Mr. Baumgartner, come in.” She made her voice low, throaty, as much like Toni Franklin as she dared. “In my class, you’ll do just as I say, or you’ll fail. And you can’t afford to fail, can you, Mr. Baumgartner?”

“Yes, professor.” His eyes widened in surprise at first, then he slowly smiled as he realized what she was playing at. “I mean, no professor. I can’t fail or I’ll lose my hockey scholarship. So, I guess I have no choice but to do everything you say.”

“That’s right, Mr. Baumgartner.” She picked up the ruler from the desk beside her, tapping it on the back of the chair. She wondered if he’d said something like that to Toni Franklin during their first session together and her stomach clenched at the thought. “Have a seat.”

“Yes, professor.” Henry pulled a chair back, looking up at her as he sat in it.

“Tell me something, Mr. Baumgartner.” Libby’s spine straightened, pushing her breasts forward. She saw him looking at them in her brand new red Victoria’s Secret push-up bra through her sheer white blouse. They were impressive, if she did say so herself. “Are these big enough for you? What grade would you give them?”

“P,” he piped up, grinning. “For perfect!”

“The alphabet might go all the way to ‘Z,’ Mr. Baumgartner, but letter grades are A through F.” She winked.

“A then,” he corrected, leaning forward to get a better look at her cleavage. “Definitely an A.”

“Would you like to earn your own A, Mr. Baumgartner?” She slowly uncrossed her legs, giving him a good glimpse up her skirt—sans panties—before crossing them again.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in agreement, practically salivating. “I sure would.”

“In this class, all you have to do to get an ‘A’ is follow my directions.”

“I can do that.” He perked up.

“Good.” She placed one high heel between his denim clad thighs on the chair, her red painted toenails showing through her stockings and the open-toed shoes. “Then undress for me, Mr. Baumgartner.”

She didn’t have to ask him twice. He stood, ripped off his shirt, toed off his shoes, and pushed down his jeans in no time flat to leave him standing there with a nice erection already growing, a positive affirmation that he definitely liked her Valentine’s Day fantasy.

“Take this piece of chalk.” She handed it to him from the makeshift desk. “And write on the blackboard, ‘I will obey my sexy teacher’.”

“I will!” He took it, looking eager, and she smiled. She’d hoped this wouldn’t go too far, make him uncomfortable or give him flashbacks, because being called on to go to the board was a dyslexic’s worst nightmare. But he didn’t hesitate, and Libby knew that was thanks to Toni Franklin. She’d given Henry the confidence he needed not to feel ashamed about writing anything on the blackboard.

How could Libby deny him?

She watched him walk to the “chalkboard,” his cock bobbing, ass cheeks tight. Damn, he was sexy. She wanted him more than she ever had before. She wanted that gorgeous cock buried in her flesh, so much she had to remind herself that she was willing to share it—if that’s what he wanted. As long as she could be with him.

She watched him write.

I will obey my EXTREMELY sexy teacher.

Henry underlined extremely four times. 

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