Unravel
1207 Words
✤ Adrian ✤
The stack of essays sat untouched in front of me. I had been staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes with my pen resting uselessly between my fingers. The words blurred together until they stopped meaning anything. I dropped the pen, sat back in my chair, and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. It wasn’t the papers keeping me here tonight. It was her.
Sera D’Amour.
Every time I tried to focus, she appeared behind my eyelids. Her skirt, her smirk, the flash of skin she had shown me without shame. I had seen too much. More than I should have. And the memory refused to fade. The worst part was how easy it had been for her to do it. A simple tilt of her legs, and I had lost every bit of control I had left. I leaned back and exhaled slowly. The air in the room was warm, stale from the radiator that had been running since this afternoon. The soft tick of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual. It reminded me that time was still moving while I sat here, trapped in the same thought loop. I had tried to justify it. I had tried to tell myself that she was young and impulsive, that her behavior was nothing more than a desperate grab for attention. I wanted to believe that it wasn’t personal, that she would have done the same thing to any professor willing to look twice.
“You should know…I only do that for you, Professor,”
A part of me had loved hearing those words. She had done it just for me. It had been deliberate. And I liked it. I pushed away from the desk and paced across the room. The wooden floor creaked beneath my feet, and the sound seemed to fill the silence that had been building all evening. The house felt too big when I was alone in it. Too empty. The faint scent of coffee lingered from earlier, but it did nothing to ground me. Every thought returned to her. The way she had leaned back in her chair, unbothered, knowing exactly what she was doing. And of course, the image had branded itself into my mind, impossible to shake. I raked a hand through my hair in frustration.
“What the hell are you doing?” I wasn’t sure if I was asking her or myself. It had been years since I had felt like this: unsteady and irrational. I had built a life around control. Every lecture, every decision, every boundary carefully maintained. But lately, all of it had been slipping. She had found a way into the cracks I didn’t know existed. I sat back down, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the papers again. My eyes drifted to the window instead. Outside, the street was quiet, the faint glow of the lamp spilling across the wet pavement. The rain had started again, soft and steady, tapping against the glass in a rhythm that felt too familiar. I rubbed the back of my neck and leaned forward, elbows on my desk. My thoughts twisted in circles. I knew it was wrong to think of her this way. Every instinct told me to stop. She was my student. She was twenty-two. And I was old enough to know better.
But the truth was, I didn’t want to stop.
That realization hit harder than I expected. I dropped my head into my hands and let out a slow breath. The guilt burned in my chest, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the want. It wasn’t even close. She had crossed the line first, yes. But now I was the one standing on the edge, leaning forward. Without too much thought, I leaned back in my seat and undid my belt. The sound of the zipper was loud, but I just didn’t care. I reached inside and wrapped my hand around my c**k. I was hard. Rock hard and aching. The image of her was so fresh in my mind. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should stop. But the ache was almost desperate. I shifted in my seat and got a bit more comfortable as I pulled my length through the opening in my pants. I sighed in relief, but only for a moment. I wasn’t in a hurry despite how wrong this was. I took my time as I slowly, almost lazily, stroked the length of my c**k. Up and down with a small twist over my head. My breathing grew heavy, and with my free hand, I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it free, exposing my chest. I closed my eyes and pictured Sera. Her smile. That naughty glint in her eyes. And of course, her body. Her tight, sweet body that she teased me with. I pictured her lacy bra and panties. I remembered the weight of her breast in my hand. But it was the sight of her p***y that sent me over the edge. I f****d into my hand, faster and harder. I was so close. But still, I want to enjoy the slow build-up and the stiffness of my c**k to maximize my orgasm.
“f**k…Sera…” I gasped into the silence as pleasure tightened my balls. I couldn’t help but imagine my c**k buried in her p***y. I use my pre-c*m to help lube up the process, and I smooth it over my length with ease. My breathing is erratic now. I’m closer and then I’m there. The world stops. Time stops. And all the sensation is centered on my c**k. “f**k,” I groaned out as my c*m shot out and onto my chest. I don’t stop, but my movements slow as I enjoy the thrill of my orgasm. Slowly, the sounds in the house return. The hum of the air con. The ticking of the clock. And the storm outside. I looked down at myself as I finally let go of my spent c**k. I felt a wave of guilt, but then I smiled. If only Sera could see what a mess I made while thinking of her. I reached for the tissue box and grabbed a few to clean it all up. Once the evidence was gone and everything was back in place, I tried to get back to work.
But I had crossed the line.
This wasn’t who I was supposed to be. I was a professor and a husband, even if that marriage existed only in name now. I was supposed to know better. But wanting her didn’t feel like a choice anymore. It felt inevitable. The guilt pressed down on me, but beneath it, there was something else: relief. Because at least when I thought of her, I felt something again. Something alive. I sank into the chair once more, exhausted. My body was tense, my thoughts a mess of want and regret. I told myself I would stop tomorrow, that I would find a way to rebuild the distance she kept breaking down. But even as I made that promise, I knew I was lying. The line was already gone.
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- Writer
