Fifty Shades of Blue: Part 3
The next addition in our very own take on erotic fiction. Things get interesting at the Union Freshers’ Ball…
The Black and White Union Ball is the first really Cambridgey event I’ve been to. It’s suddenly made the cost of membership seem totally worth it. I’m having a great time, rewarding myself for my week of work.
Things are going well. I survived my first essay crisis, didn’t make a fool of myself in the supervision, and even made it to a couple of 9am lectures. There’s only one thing missing: Dr Blue.
I’m queuing up for cocktails in the debating chamber with my friends when I get a text from an unknown number:
Come to the Union President’s Office now. I’m waiting for you.
There’s only one person I know who’s that demanding, and I want him now. I tell my friends I’m popping to the loo and before they have a chance to try and accompany me I’ve left them behind. I suddenly realise I don’t even know where the President’ Office is, before reading the sign on the door right outside the debating chamber. That was lucky.
Once again I’m standing outside a door, waiting for him to let me in. I knock, and within seconds I’ve been pulled inside. Dr Blue pushes me to the wall, pressing my arms against it so I can no longer move. Then he is kissing me passionately; I can already feel his erection pressing against me through his trousers.
‘I want to fuck your mouth, Georgina.’ It’s the first thing I’ve heard him say all week; his voice makes me weak at the knees. My arousal is heightened when I actually process his words.
He sits in the desk-chair and I kneel in front of him. Slowly I unzip his trousers, letting loose his straining boner.
I swirl my tongue around the tip before taking him all in, gagging slightly as he hits the back of my throat. I suck harder and harder, moving up and down instinctively as I build up a rhythm. He’s my very own Dr Blue flavoured lollypop.
‘Faster Georgie,’ he cries, applying pressure to my head, forcing me deeper.
I do as I’m told, although my jaw aches and saliva drips from my chin. It feels so good to give him this much pleasure.
‘I’m going to come.’ His voice is now low and serious; he’s intent on reaching the promised ecstasy. He holds my head still around him and groans as he empties himself into my waiting mouth. I swallow his salty goodness, licking my lips as I emerge from under the desk. Straddling my legs around him, I join him on the chair, smiling broadly.
‘Good work, Miss Skye,’ he says, running his hands through my hair. ‘You get a starred first in your oral assignment.’
My inner goddess glows so brightly it could light up the whole of Cambridge. ‘You were a great supervisor,’ I reply cheekily. ‘You’ve taught me everything I know.’
‘Maybe we should continue with your education now,’ he suggests, unzipping the side of my dress and edging his hands inside.
I look over at the door, anxiously.
‘It’s locked,’ he says, responding to my worries.
‘How did you even get the key,’ I ask, mystified once again by the man between my legs.
‘Once upon a time, I was Union President. I held onto the key. Thought it might come in handy one day.’
Of course he was Union President. Is there anything Dr Blue can’t do?
Apparently not, I conclude from the finger that has just slid its way inside me, without him even removing my underwear.
‘This is a very sexy dress you’re wearing, Miss Skye. I’m not sure I like the idea of everyone else seeing you in it.’
I merely gasp as an answer. All I can think about is the sensation pulsing through my body as he touches me, his fingers circling inside me expertly. Then, just as I am about to climax, he stops.
‘I want you for myself,’ he says, lifting me onto the desk and climbing on top of me. I am startled to see him hard again so soon. He’s so big and growing. Pulling my black dress up past my waist he yanks off my knickers (thankfully not the Bridget Jones ones again) and plunges into me. Holy crap! I’d forgotten how good this feels.
He thrusts deeply, even harder than last time. It’s impossible for me not to pant loudly with each swift movement.
‘I want you sore, Georgie,’ he tells me, breathing deeply into my ear. ‘Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here. Only me. You – are – mine.’
Orgasm causes my inner goddess to shatter into a million tiny pieces; my actual body is thankfully fully intact, perhaps a little sweatier than usual.