"Emily's Nipples for the Faculty" by HeyAll
Here is Emily with brown hair that brushes across her shoulder. In class her brown hair distracts me. It's always shiny and straight. Sometimes she tosses it to the side. Sometimes she twirls it. The class of 58 students is split into smaller groups and they discuss the latest novel we're reading. I overhear Emily speaking and her thoughts are interesting. She's articulate when she wants to be, which is a trait I admire. The difference between Emily and other students is that Emily knows my secret. She swears it was by accident. She swears she'll never tell anyone. Months ago, I was attending a party of like-minded adults when Emily showed up with a friend. The party was located at a friend's home -- invitation or recommendation only. I decided to observe her, to see what a wholesome girl was doing at a place like that. At the party she looked nervous and out of place. Her eyes wandered and her shoulders hunched forward. She and her friend were timid. When she saw me, she froze, while I remained calm. I asked what she was doing there, she said her friend brought her along. We had a private chat and she said she'd never tell anyone. She left the party soon after, by her own accord. My brief daydream ends when class is over. Students are discreet about checking the time and they pack their things when class ends. It's the moment I'm on my toes again because I'll be fielding different questions from different students. When most of the students leave, Emily is still at her desk. She's standing by her laptop and she summons me. I'm tall and she's petite with a slender build, so the power imbalance is even great when I stand beside her. "Can you sign this for me?" Of course, I tell her. Helping students is what I'm here for. Emily wants to enroll in the graduate program for a master's degree and she asked for my support. My signature is required in addition to all the support I've given her. We bend over at the same time. Being tall and working in close proximity with others means there are accidental views down a woman's top. I always do the professional thing and look away. But with Emily, I take a quick look. I'm certain she's doing this on purpose because she's standing in a position that gives me full view, and because she doesn't look at me. She faces her computer while she talks. She's wearing a white bra. Her breasts are small and she wears bra padding to give her chest a perkier shape. My eyes dart away and I sign the form. We both stand upright and she smiles, thanking me. I sense a bit of tension from her. Yes, she flashed me on purpose. I took the bait and looked at her chest. Do I regret it? Not yet, but maybe I will later. *** It's amazing how powerful breasts are. The round curve at the bottom. The softness of the skin and flesh. The different shapes. And then the nipples. The most illuminating part of breasts. I've seen countless breasts over my lifetime -- I'm 46 years old -- and it's always the nipples that I want to study. Most of the breasts I see are from the locker room shower or sexual encounters. I also view online pornography. I masturbate in the faculty bathroom thinking of what Emily's nipples must look like. By her hair and skin color, I'd say she's bright pink. By the shape of her jaw and nose, I'd say her nipples protrude like pencil erasers. Prominent facial features hint at how nipples are shaped, in my opinion. When I'm done I grab a cup of coffee in the faculty lounge. Two guys are talking about an upcoming movie they want to see in theaters, and Magda is having coffee alone at a table while flipping through phone messages. When the guys leave, Magda turns to me. "Took you long enough," she chides, putting her phone away. I shrug. "There was good material today." Magda knows about my campus masturbation routine. Sometimes we give notice and take turns, so we don't end up masturbating next to each other in different stalls by accident. Wouldn't that be funny? "Think of anything good?" In addition to being masturbation friends, Magda is also a participant at the same parties I mentioned earlier. It's a dark secret of this university, and across academia and education. We attend sex parties with plenty of kink. Usually we play with other teachers. Occasionally there'd be students (over the age of 18, of course), which is the true prize. That's rare because we have to protect our reputations as educators of society. But it does happen if the student proves herself. I pull out my phone and look for Emily's Facebook page. I show an image to Magda and she nearly chokes on her coffee. "What's her name?" she asks. "Emily. She's the student I told you about, the one that saw me at the party a few months ago." "Are you going to fuck her?" I laugh. "Allow me to make things clear. I. Don't. Fuck. Students." Now it's Magda's turn to laugh. "Then why did you masturbate so long thinking about her? Your skin looks glowing. You're shining. Oh yeah, you're hot for her." I put my phone away. "She flashed her bra to me -- accidentally on purpose. In the classroom of all places. She wears bra padding, you know. Since then, all I can think about is her nipples. What they must look like." Magda sips her coffee and makes the `mmm' sound. Either from her drink or the thought of Emily's nipples. "I need to go," she says. "I wish we can continue this conversation, but I have a job to do." "Likewise." "Perhaps you can tell me more, you know, after Emily's nipples end up in your mouth." "Doubtful." Magda winks and takes her mug of coffee as she leaves the faculty lounge. *** Professors are required to have a certain amount of office hours per week. It gives students a chance to swing around to discuss anything. It also gives the university a feeling of warmth, with office doors open with teachers inside. This magical period is meditative for me. I get work done because my office is on the quiet side of the building, plus I have a great view of the campus. Because I teach English, that means I have to grade a lot of essays. I use my time to speed read to see where my students are. Whenever I hear footsteps, I know if it's for me or not. If the footsteps slow down before reaching the door, it's for me. I assume it's because students hesitate before speaking privately with their statuesque stone-faced teacher (which is me). The footsteps slow and I look up and see Emily at the door. She is happy to see me, glad that I'm sitting alone in my office. The feeling is mutual. She puts her things down and we make small talk. Sitting across from my desk, the natural light shines on her white face and illuminates her brown hair. Her eyes are green. Precious emeralds. There's something about her today. I've been dealing with students for almost two decades. Most of the students who come to my office are young women. My guess is Emily wants to talk about the graduate program. My assumption is correct when she speaks. Ambitious students often talk about their future. I'm the former Chair of the English Department -- a job which rotates between faculty -- so I possess helpful advice. But still, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, as the saying goes. We've had private conversations before and she's always relaxed. This time, talking about academics, she sits upright and stiff. She pulls her brown hair back a few times. She looks too pretty for a boring conversation. Too formal. Finally it comes. "Can we talk about the party?" she whispers. Her lips curl when she asks. It's more than being nervous. Emily is intimidated. My office is my realm, lined with my reading books and awards on the wall. Even as we sit across from each other, I'm in a higher position because of my height, and she has to look up to me. Tiny girl. "Only if you close the door," I say. Like a good girl, Emily gets up and closes the door. She's an obedient one. Then she sits before me once again. She clears her throat, as if giving a canned speech. "I'm interested in attending the next event. To be blunt, I don't need your permission to attend. But I'm telling you to be respectful, to clear the air when we see each other." I remain silent for a few seconds, staring at her. My eyes versus hers. It's a losing battle for her. She's intimidated, but I'm transfixed by her beauty. "You're an adult. You can go wherever you want." She gulps, "Thanks, I just wanted to give you a heads up. So yeah, we'll be seeing each other there, and I'm sure it'll be awkward." I should let this issue go. She's an adult, after all. She's free to attend whatever sex party she wants. However, I care for her, as a student and person. I think she's sweet and deserves the best in life, so I give her notice. "Here's something to think about," I say. "You're applying for the master's program because you think it'll help your future career. Did you know that two of the women who run the master's program attend these parties?" Emily is shocked. She knows the two professors I'm referring to. The women I'm talking about are bookish, English wonks, who read countless books a year and enjoy reading long thesis papers. For a newbie like Emily, the thought of women in their 40's and 50's engaging in such sexual practices bends the mind. It's outside the bounds of reason. It's proof that Emily is stepping into a world she knows little about. "You mean..." I nod. "They'll be seeing you naked. Or maybe you'll be seeing them naked. If they ask you for oral, what would you do? Could you look them in the eyes the next day on campus?" Emily remains stunned. This lifestyle isn't for everyone. Going down on her professors was a concept that never entered her mind. Why would it? Those women have the personality of stereotypical librarians. "That's a good point," she says. I continue, "That's only speaking of the graduate program. A few of your current and former professors also attend these parties. Even a few students that you may or may not know. Please consider that, Emily." "Oh my god." As expected, Emily is defeated by the revelation. Like most young women her age, she wants to explore her sexuality and express her emotions. But it has to be on the right terms, where it's safe and confidential. The truth about these parties is more complex than she knew. I'm glad I'm able to warn her. "It must be unusual for you to hear this." "My friend didn't know these details," she says. I think about inquiring about her friend, but decide that I don't care. My only concern is for Emily and her growth as a person. This goes beyond academics and a student/teacher relationship. This feels personal. "Don't blame your friend. Boring teachers are sexual beings who enjoy pleasure. We know how to keep that a secret." Emily blushes. "Hearing you say that is... I don't know... a paradox." "The human paradox," I smile. "I'm sure attending this party meant a lot, since you were willing to come here and discuss it." "Well, it would be the craziest experience of my life. That's for sure." "Are you giving up? Or will you still attend?" She winces. "Messing around with a teacher was never part of my plan. Don't get me wrong, I love all of these professors and I think they're beautiful. But my reputation means everything to me." Emily's body language and facial expression reveal her disappointment. Even the sound of her voice makes that clear. But she does her best to hide it. She's a proud young woman and refuses to be disappointed in front of me. I feel bad that she won't attend the next party, but I'm looking after her best interest. It's one of the reasons why faculty or administrators don't actively seek to invite students. It's awkward for the student. Having said that, students have participated before, as I've mentioned earlier. An idea comes to mind. Like all my ideas, it's brilliant. My idea makes me grin, which causes Emily to look at me funny. "Here's a suggestion," I say. "Wear a mask. Problem solved." "A mask?" "Do you know Professor Ishimatsu from the Art Department?" "I almost took her class two years ago. I've never met her though." "She'll make you a mask. A good one. A beautiful, classy one. You'll be incognito and amongst your professors at the party." This changes everything. Emily's eyes come alive once again at the renewed hope that she can attend a sex gathering. Only this time, her reputation amongst the faculty (most of the faculty, anyway) will remain intact. "That could work," she says. Part of me is happy she wants to explore. It's normal and healthy, in my view, and within reason. Another part of me is upset because Emily will be unleashing forces outside of her control. A smart girl like her should keep her attention on the future. "If you want my advice, walk away and I'll pretend this conversation never happened. You're a bright young woman. You should be focused on academics. Sex should be your last priority." She thinks about it. However, ambitious young women like Emily know what they want in life, even if they're timid and hesitant. That fortitude is the reason why she'll be successful someday. "I still want to try it," she says. "I'll always have regrets if I miss this opportunity. It just sounds like one of those things I have to try." I want to question her. To find out what makes her tick. To learn what makes a bright, wholesome young woman want to attend a sex party with older women, with her teachers of all people. But I don't question her. I already know the answer. A decade ago I had the same curiosities when I was first invited to the private parties, so I understand the mental gymnastics happening in Emily's head. Instead the most important question is if Emily has the fortitude to endure such a night. I know what trouble awaits. Emily doesn't. The last thing I want is to mentor Emily in this endeavor, only for her to quit. Worse, that she'd be mentally scarred or humiliated. "You'll wear a mask. I'll guide you. How does that sound?" She smiles. "That sounds like a plan." "First you have to prove yourself to me. I require total devotion. Before I commit my time, I need to know if you can handle this." "What would you like me to do?" "Show me your nipple." Her bottom lip flinches, but she controls herself. As much as she's nervous, she's also aroused by the prospect of revealing herself. She doesn't argue. She knows that my need for confirmation is logical. Her thin fingers clasp at the bottom of her shirt. She lifts and I can see her belly. I only requested one nipple, so she lifts one side of her top. A white bra is in the way. She lifts the bra and I'm delighted to see an erect pink nipple on a small chest. She continues to hold her clothes so I can see her breast and her face is stoic like a runway model. I stand and approach her. I kneel beside her and look close. It's the perfect nipple as far as I'm concerned. It's shaped like a pencil eraser -- just as I expected. Coral pink. I can see all the little lines and bumps on it. My praise might not mean much, because I think all nipples are perfect. My lips wrap around her nipple. Emily moans. Sucking on a student's tit during office hours isn't something I'm proud of, but it makes both of us happy. I'm glad I'm doing it. I suck hard on the nipple. Emily moans and strokes my hair, pulling me closer. I nurse on her breast for close to ten minutes, by my estimation. I reach down and rub her crotch through her pants, doing my best to stimulate her clitoris. She reaches an orgasm, mostly because of what I'm doing with her nipple. She's blessed to have sensitive nipples. When it's done, I look her straight in the eyes while I remain kneeling. Her wet nipple is still exposed. We're more than teacher/student now. We've become lovers with the same interests. ~~~~ PERSPECTIVE: Magda ~~~~ I first meet Emily in the garage of the Dean's home. It's 5 pm and the sun is going down. My heart rushes seeing her. The student is embarrassed to see me. She recognizes me and knows that I'm faculty. I assure her that her secret is safe. I'm someone she can trust with these sorts of things. Before this, I did some research on Emily, looking at her social media pages. She's a normal girl and I love that. "Remove your clothes," Professor Sanjani says. "All the way down to your bare feet." Emily undresses. She doesn't mean to be sexy. She's not putting on a show. Yet that makes it more enticing. The secrets of her body are revealed as she strips. Seeing her in bra and panties, I think of her social media posts again. I think of those images of her with friends and family. She's naked and I admire her body. These are the delicate pink nipples that Professor Sanjani has been telling me about. Sanjani has great taste, but seeing these nipples for myself is a game changer. I'm going to suck them before the night is over. I promise. Her bare feet are on the garage floor. Her crotch is shaved, she's prepared for this. Normally, the stripping and nudity of a student would be saved for the living room, dining area, or kitchen. In this case, Emily values her privacy. Professor Sanjani unveils a black mask, created by an art teacher, who sadly couldn't make it for today's party. The mask is elegant and smooth. Tucking her brown hair behind her ears, Emily wears the mask. It fits and the strap holds it in place. It covers most of her face, enough to conceal her identity, but with enough space to show her green eyes and gives freedom for the mouth area. "Be proud, be brave," Professor Sanjani says, rubbing Emily's shoulders. "Keep an open mind and have fun." "I will." "If you're uncomfortable, give me a signal and I'll save you. Don't do anything you're not comfortable with. Be a strong woman." Emily appreciates these comments. She takes a moment to breathe deep, then thanks her professor for the reassurance and guidance. I offer Emily the same assurances and words of wisdom, which she thanks me for. Her bare feet make smacking noises as she walks across the garage floor. She's guided inside the big house. I'm impressed by how composed she is, how firm she moves. It shows that she's prepared. Her pretty pink nipples are rock hard. The party features many of the area's academic elites, school administrators, and even adjunct professors. And of course, the Dean, who regularly hosts these parties at her home. Only half of the day's participants have shown up, the rest will come later. The evening is still young. What I enjoy seeing is how demure these women are. Everyone is well-spoken and properly dressed. The conversations are bland. But there's a deviant side to us. That will come later. So far Emily is the only person naked, which I think Professor Sanjani arranged on purpose, needing to see how committed the student is. Emily passes with flying colors as she's introduced to the women, who are curious about the new, naked mystery girl. No one asks for her identity; there is etiquette to this lifestyle. I lounge around the party and make conversation with friends. All the while, my eyes check on Emily, seeing how she carries herself. She stays close with Professor Sanjani as they mingle with the growing crowd. I get the feeling that Emily is thrilled with the anonymity, that she can be naked amongst her faculty and no one knows. Emily turns stiff when sex is introduced at the party. An older professor from a different campus is sitting on the couch and lifts her skirt; she pulls her panties down. This professor is having a drink, discussing enrollment for her new classes with someone, while an adjunct professor gets on her knees and performs oral sex. For a girl like Emily, it's a new world. More people arrive, the conversations are louder, the living room and kitchen are more crowded. As people get more comfortable, there's more happening. More touching, more kisses, more breasts. I walk around the party and see it all. A professor talks to an administrator about enrollment, in between a mutual exchange of sucking nipples. It's casual between them. Our university secretary is demure and subservient at work, but here she calls the shots, having a tenured professor finger her pussy, while they talk about Squid Game showing on Netflix. These role-reversals are fun to watch at parties. The Dean is always having the best time. She's leaning back on the couch, talking politics with a group of professors, and she explains her upcoming meeting with the Governor next week. Her pussy is being eaten by a science professor while the conversation is ongoing, holding a drink in hand. "It appears the budget will be tighter next year," the Dean says, taking a sip of her drink, enjoying the tongue lashing to her clit. "We're working out the details and there's still hope depending on cuts to other areas instead. I'm sure the Governor will see things my way." Professors nod at the power the Dean wields in state politics. It makes her more alluring and they take turns eating her pussy. I realize that Emily is missing. My interest in the Dean's political and sexual pursuits caused me to lose track of the night's main intrigue. Although I've seen Emily naked, what I truly want to see is her sucking or being sucked. I've never played with a student before, though it's always been a dream. Their location is obvious to me because I know where Professor Sanjani likes to play in this house. I walk up the stairs towards the bedrooms. The party is loud with chatter, but the further I go up the stairs, the more I hear moaning. You'd be surprised with what happens in guest rooms, and with whom. It's normal for orgies or strap-on sex to happen here. It's the only place where demure, well-educated women can express the darker sides of themselves. Sanjani's favorite place is the room at the end of the hall. I peek inside two of the rooms as I pass. One room has two naked women, in their late 40's, making out and fingering each other. The other room has a mature professor eating the pussy of a young school administrator. At the end of the hall where the loud moans are coming from, I see it. Emily is on hands and knees -- center of the bed -- and Professor Sanjani fucks her from behind with a strap-on. Both are naked. Emily wears a mask and Sajani wears nothing but the sex toy. The color contrast strikes me. Sanjani is dark brown and Emily is snow white. Sanjani has smooth black nipples compared to Emily's protruding pink nipples. The sex is rough and makes the bed shake. I see the flesh of Emily's butt and thighs ripple from each penetrating thrust. I hear the sound of hard smacks, over and over again. The slapping sounds are almost as loud as Emily's moans and grunts. Sanjani breathes fast from the deep thrusts. Professor Sanjani knows I'm here and she concentrates on fucking the student to give me an exciting show. Their bodies form a rhythm. Sanjani rubs her hands over Emily's white body as they fuck. It's Emily's breasts that remain the star of the show, the breasts that Sanjani has been raving about. The breasts sway back and forth as Emily holds the all-fours position while being pounded from behind. The pink nipples remain erect. The swaying of the nipples almost hypnotizes me. "I'm going to cum," the student whispers. "Professor Sanjani... you're going to make me... I'm going to cum." Emily's voice is so desperate that I feel her agony. It's profound and I can tell it's her first time being with a woman -- at least of Sanjani's caliber and experience. I could be wrong, though. The fucking continues until Emily cries and her voice cracks. I wonder if tears are flowing, but the mask covers it. Emily's toes curl and her lower back arches. It's a magnificent orgasm and I'm happy for her. For a first-time experience, she hit the jackpot. When the sex is over, Professor Sanjani pulls the fake `cock' out and Emily collapses on the bed. "I knew you'd end up fucking her," I tease my friend. Sanjani gives a shrug and walks naked to the counter. "There are some things in life that I cannot resist. Emily is one of them." "She's very beautiful." "Her pussy is tight. Would you like a turn?" It's a tempting offer, seeing Emily breath deep, laying face down on the bed while trying to recover from this life changing experience. "Her pussy needs to recover," I reply. "But that's definitely on my list in the future." The real reason I turn down the offer to fuck is because I don't do sloppy seconds. At least when it comes to sex. In the future when I fuck Emily with a strap-on, I have to go first, when she's fresh and tight, when it means something to me. Sanjani removes the strap-on and gets dressed. Emily rolls over. A smile is on her face. A smile of accomplishment, as if she'd just finished a marathon or climbed a mountain. To her, this is something to be proud of. She's right, in my opinion. Being naked at a party is a small victory, so is getting to have sex with a hot professor. The sight is too tempting for me to resist. The pink nipples are still aroused and begging to be sucked. I see saliva marks and moisture around them, which means Sanjani has already sucked on them before sex. I approach the bed and sit next to Emily. She looks at me and blushes. I ask how she liked it, she said it was wonderful. I ask if I can suck her nipples, she says any time. Of course. Always. Emily's nipples are heaven like Sanjani described prior. I feel the shape and lines with my tongue. They respond immediately and turn erect. Sensitive breasts are a great attribute and I'm stimulating her again. I pull at each breast just from sucking her nipples with force. She enjoys it. Time is short because Sanjani is almost done getting dressed, and I know she's watching me. Sanjani is enjoying the show, but I don't want to keep them waiting. I know they want to return to the party. But I have interests of my own. I go down on Emily and see that her pussy is wet from the orgasm. Some parts look glazed and the center still leaks. When she spreads her legs, I see a hole that's freshly fucked from the strap-on. Emily looks at me and our eyes meet. I give her oral sex and she releases a low groan. Even after the fucking and orgasm, her spent pussy has more to offer. I flicker my tongue on her clit and it responds. I put my tongue inside her hole and her legs squirmed. I swirl my tongue and she moans. Her pussy is delicious and she loves sharing it, pulling my head towards her, so my tongue can go further inside. Emily's second orgasm is weaker than her first, which is understandable because her first orgasm was something special. She moans and her body tenses, grabbing my hair while she cums. A small squirt is released from her pussy and I drink. "Thank you," she says, rubbing my hair. I kiss her labia. "You're welcome, Emily. Next time you owe me." She agrees and sits upright. It takes her a moment to walk again and we go down to the party. Emily holds hands with us and we're like a three-person couple, with her being naked and masked. The party is different now. More breasts are exposed. More pussies are being served. No one is naked except for Emily, who is also the only person wearing a mask. I think the faculty members are smart enough to realize that the naked masked girl is a student. I wonder if any of them realize who that student is. Attending this party requires a great poker face. If teachers know it's Emily, they wouldn't say. With newfound confidence, Emily allows herself to be free. Her privacy is respected, so no one looks deeply into her eyes. No one tries to figure out her identity, wondering if she's a current or former student. Instead they focus on what's available, which are her nipples. Her breasts go from mouth to mouth. Some women dip the nipple into a drink before sucking. One woman used the whip cream from her dessert. Emily's long pink nipples are a big hit amongst this group of women. I can only imagine how her tits feel after being sucked by so many mouths. Hands touch her breasts. Hands touch her butt. A professor dipped two fingers into Emily's pussy and swirled those fingers in a drink before consuming it. Emily is told that she's delicious. I can attest to Emily's flavor. I enjoy the party and mingle. When I return to the living room, Emily is exhausted from the sexual foray and she lays across the couch with her head cradled in the Dean's arms, and her feet on Professor Sanjani's lap. The Dean strokes her hair with love and plays with her nipples; Sanjani rubs her feet and fingers her pussy. Attention turns to the couch as the Dean bends down to kiss Emily's mouth. They tongue kiss. Then the Dean goes for Emily's nipples. The Dean is known for kissing younger women and eating their pussies. Sanjani fingers Emily's pussy at the same time, while rubbing her feet with the other hand. This is Emily's third orgasm of the night. A much different orgasm after having her nipples stimulated by so many experienced women. The party ends and for obvious reasons Emily is the last to leave. Other faculty members shouldn't see her face. In the garage she pulls her mask off and the girl is exquisite. I've always thought she was gorgeous -- seeing her social media pictures and meeting her earlier today -- but her messy hair makes her striking. She has that post-fuck look in her eyes, that slight glaze, that mischievous curl on her lips even though she's tired. She's been naked for so long that the tension is gone. Her body is relaxed and she moves normally. She doesn't mind her bare feet on the cold garage floor. I wonder how much saliva is on her nipples. Her long pink nipples were the star of tonight's show. Emily gets dressed and we assist her. It's time to become the good girl again, instead of the sex kitten of the party. "Did you get everything you wanted out of this?" Professor Sanjani asks. "I didn't know what I wanted," Emily replies. She shrugs and pulls her panties on, while Sanjani helps with the bra and clasps it behind her back. In this moment I realize that Emily is a naive girl playing above her league. She puts on her clothes, not knowing what her future holds. But I know what her future holds. This is the beginning for her. An introduction to her new education. The first dive in the exploration of her sexuality. She's fully dressed, but barefoot. When she goes for her shoes, I stop her, then I kiss her on the mouth. This surprises her, but she kisses me back. My tenderness caught her off guard. She likes it sweet, as much as she likes it rough. Little conversations happen in the car as we take Emily home. She lives with her family and I get a dirty thrill knowing she'll see her parents after this. Now the good girl once again, Emily has opened a new side to herself. The End Be well. Take care. Follow me @heyallstories