After-Hours Tutoring — Chemistry Lab

Ethan was the nicest guy in the chemistry department. Twenty-one, pre-med, with wire-rimmed glasses and forearms that suggested he spent as much time in the gym as in the lab. He'd been tutoring me in organic chemistry for two months, and I'd spent most of that time trying not to stare at his hands.

"You're still messing up the stereochemistry," he said, leaning over my shoulder to look at my practice exam. His chest was practically touching my back. I could smell his cologne.

"I know. I'm terrible at this."

"You're not terrible. You just need more... hands-on practice."

I turned my head, and suddenly our faces were inches apart. His glasses had slipped down his nose. I pushed them up for him. My fingers brushed his cheek.

"Grace..." he said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying really hard to be professional right now."

"Don't try so hard."

He kissed me. It was urgent and messy — the kind of kiss where the glasses get in the way and you don't care. I twisted in my chair and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me onto his lap.

The tutoring session was over.

He cleared the desk with one sweep of his arm — papers and textbooks crashing to the floor — and laid me back on it. His body pressed against mine, and I could feel how hard he was through his chinos. I reached between us and stroked him through the fabric.

"Someone could walk in," he warned, his voice strained.

"Everyone's gone. It's 9 PM on a Friday."

That was all the reassurance he needed. He unbuttoned my blouse, kissed down my chest, and unclasped my bra with one hand. My nipples were hard, and his mouth was warm. I arched into him, my hands in his hair.

I pushed him back into his chair, dropped to my knees between his legs. His belt. His zipper. His cock — longer than I expected, the tip flushed and wet. I wrapped my lips around it, and he groaned, his head falling back.

"Grace... your mouth is incredible."

I took my time. Slow licks. Deep plunges. My hand working the base while my tongue teased the head. He was moaning freely now, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair. When I hummed around him, he bucked into my mouth.

"I'm gonna — if you keep doing that—"

I pulled off with a wet sound and climbed onto his lap. "I want you inside me."

I lowered myself onto him, and we both gasped. I rode him in his desk chair, my hips rolling, his hands gripping my ass. His mouth was on my breasts, then my neck, then my mouth. The chair creaked dangerously. Neither of us cared.

We came together — me first, my orgasm rippling through me, then him, spilling inside me with a shudder.

I did pass chemistry. Barely. But I aced the hands-on portion.