SUBMISSION 101

Who The Hell Is Ethan Hale?

He kisses me again, roughly, moving one hand back to his c**k, stroking it as he teases my entrance.

"I'm going to f**k you on this desk," he growls into my ear, "and I'm going to f**k you hard. And I'm going to wrap my hand around your throat and choke you while I'm doing it. Is that what you want?"

Letting out another whimper, brow furrowed, I nod.

"f**k, yes. Please, professor, I want... I need you to f**k me, to choke me, I want you to control when I breathe, I..." my words are a jumbled mess. I'm finally melted, a dribbling pool of lust and wetness and want.

And in one swift, rough motion, Professor Harlan slides into me, newly free hand going to my throat and squeezing.

I gasp at the intrusion, my tight p***y clenching around his c**k, forced to accommodate his length. f**k, it stings, I'm so tight, and he...

He rests on his elbow, face inches from mine. I like that, like how close he is, like how his chest is pressed against mine as he f***s me. He tightens the grip on my neck, and I feel the blood rush to my head as my eyes roll back.

His thrusts are erratic, rough, wanting. He pumps himself in and out of me like his life depends on it, thrusting, forcing me to take his length into a p***y that is too small for him, that needs to be stretched.

"I didn't know I had such an eager slut in my class," he pants, his hair falling down to graze the skin of my face. His lips are so close to mine I can feel the words brush against my own. I try to moan, but my airway is nearly completely cut off. From between my lips escapes a raspy choke, and then a gravelly groan that causes a string of filthy expletives to fall from my professor's lips.

"Oh, f**k," he pants, gazing down at my red, pulsating face, the blood trapped from the tight clench he has around my neck. It makes his c**k twitch inside me. "Look at you trying to mmmm moan for me. f**k, you look so delicious." He smirks devilishly down at me, watching me struggle beneath him, and getting off on the thrill.

He releases the grip on my neck, and I gasp and sputter before his thumb twists into my mouth. Without instruction, I suck back on it, groaning, trying to catch my breath as my lips work at his thumb.

Each thrust grows harder, and my body is wracked against the desktop I'm splayed out and open on. My t**s bounce wildly, my back arches. I want so badly to scream, to moan, to alert the whole building that Harlan is taking me, marking me as his. Instead, I bite down on his thumb in an attempt to keep my mouth shut. He grunts in response, drawing it out of my mouth and moving to rub circles around my clit.

The delicious pressure buried deep inside me and now this... it is going to set me over the edge and soon, without a doubt.

His breathing grows ragged and my hand falls to my lower belly, where the pressure is the greatest. I feel my release brewing, hot and tingling in my core, unmistakable. And judging by the way his thrusts grow uncontrollable, I guess he’s teetering over the edge too.

I press my lips together and moan, not daring to take my eyes off of him as he chases his own release and brings me dangerously close to mine. His fingers work rapidly against my clit.

My lips swollen and wet, I kiss him until I can't kiss him any longer, until the force of my brewing orgasm grows too overwhelming.

"Professor, I'm gonna c*m," I blurt. "I'm gonna c*m for you."

He f***s me harder then, if that is possible, the sound of his skin smacking against mine turning to a ringing in my ears as my orgasm grips my entire body.

Every inch of me trembles and shakes as my orgasm rips through me. I gaze into his deliciously dark eyes for as long as I can, until my release grows too powerful and I squeeze them shut.

His hand clamps down on my mouth just in time to keep me from screaming. I scream anyway, but the sound is muffled against his skin. My tongue licks at his fingers, I can't help it, can't control anything. My frame quakes as I ride out my orgasm, and I open my eyes to take him in, drink in the sight of him, delicious and drunk.

He removes his hand when I stop screaming, beginning to come down from my orgasm, though whispers of pleasure still have my p***y throbbing.

"Oh f**k, I can feel you in my gut," I whimper.

That sends him over the edge.

Professor Harlan grunts as he spills his load inside of me, groaning as he comes. He rides out his orgasm with erratic thrusts, and I feel each spurt of hot seed shoot into me as his hips slow. He drops his head into the crook of my neck, hips still rolling slowly to ride out every bit of pleasure I have given him. My fingers snake through his hair, drawing him close, and we both lay there, breathing heavily, chests heaving, savouring the moment while it lasts.

I want him to stay there, breathing into the curve of my throat. I want him to kiss my skin. But all too soon, he pulls away. He looks at me, examining my face.

"Are you alright?" he breathes.

Still panting, I nod, bringing up a hand to cup his cheek. He turns away from my touch, turning around to redo his pants and make himself look half presentable. He runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to whip up my undergarments from the floor.

"Here," he says, holding them out to me. His voice is as stoic and as distant as it ever is now. Again. I'm grateful to have seen him lose control.

I begin to dress, finding my shirt and shorts on opposite ends of the classroom. He stands still as I do so and when I turn to face him, it seems he’s mulling over his actions, walking himself through what the two of us have just done.

I feel a twinge of guilt, and figure that the least I can do is help him clean up. I look at all the contents from the desk that lay scattered on the floor and kneel down to gather them. Books, papers, and mail.

My eyes settle on an envelope as I lift it off the floor. In the return address reads "Mr. and Mrs. Organa-Hale." It is made out to a- to a ‘Ethan Hale’.

I furrow my brow.

What is this doing on his desk?

Suddenly, I feel his presence behind me, and I hastily go back to gathering up items.

"I'll take care of this, Ms. Shaw" he says, voice low and soft. Pensive. Regretful?

I stand, turning around to place the items in his hands and giving him a small smile, hoping he cannot sense what I’ve just seen.

He does not return the expression, and my gaze drops to the floor. I walk to the door slowly, sensing I'm already overstaying my welcome but hoping he will ask me not to leave.

He doesn't.

I gather my bag and take one more turn-around to look at him before I leave for good. He’s looking at me too. "See you in class, Ms. Shaw."

I nod, giving him one last melancholy smile before turning, unlocking the door, and stepping into the hallway.

I should’ve been thinking about the experience I just had with him. My body is certainly sensing it. I feel the beginnings of a bruise pulsing at my thigh where he'd sunk his teeth into my skin. I should have been thinking about what it feels like to kiss the man that I've been fantasizing about for weeks.

But as I walk down the empty hallway, sunset streaming in through the windows and illuminating the floor, I can only think of one question, everything else be damned and forgotten, my curiosity getting the better of me:

Who the hell is Ethan Hale?