Late night seminar grind with Brooke

A couple hours after dinner, Brooke reaches out to you, wondering if you’d be interested in working with her on the seminar paper due tomorrow. That’s how you find yourself at the top floor of the creaky old Fine Arts building, sitting next to Brooke at a wide oak table, watching the rainy quad outside through the iron bars of the window. Even at this dark, late hour, you still see students crossing through the walkways, umbrellas propped up to fend off the sluicing water.

Brooke sits with her head propped on her knees, legs pressed against her chest. She stares at your laptop, her cute face dimly lit by the single electric lamp in the classroom.

“You’re done reading my paper already?” she asks, noticing you looking out the window.

“Yeah, just thinking about what kind of feedback would help,” you say, tapping on her computer and scrolling through the pages of her paper. “I like it. But there’s one section that I have mixed feelings about, that I think we could talk about more.”

“Oh no…” Brooke says, her eyes widening. “How bad is it? Am I going to have to pull an all-nighter to fix—”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that big of a deal,” you say, soothing her with a gentle smile. “You can get through my paper first, and then we’ll talk.”

It takes a couple more minutes for Brooke to work her way through the last page of your paper, your comment really throwing her off her regular reading pace. She pauses as she highlights the last sentence of your paper, whispering it aloud to herself, and then she lets her legs drop back to the ground.

“I really like what you wrote,” she says. “I left some comments throughout the doc, but they’re minor things, like stuff you could clarify or maybe phrase better.” She pauses, glancing at her laptop that’s still in front of you, and winces a bit. “So… the section that you didn’t like about mine?”

“It’s the couple paragraphs you wrote on relationships,” you say. “I don’t dislike it. It just… doesn’t fully make sense to me.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, leaning over your shoulder to look at the relevant sentences as you scroll to the section.

“The way I read it, your central argument is that love is dead, and thus, there’s nothing for sex to be compatible with,” you say, and Brooke nods. “You spend quite a few pages dissecting how all relationships are doomed to fail, and though it’s depressing… I kind of get your point. Maybe there isn’t any love by the end of most relationships. But what about their beginnings? Are you seriously saying that newlyweds on a honeymoon aren’t in love, and don’t fuck like rabbits? Or even, you know, high school sweethearts ‘making love’ for the first time, that’s called that for a reason, right?”

“Oh,” Brooke frowns, seeing your point. “But I don’t think that counts… is it really love if it still falls apart eventually?”

“Are you asking me, or are you telling me that?” you ask.

“I’m not sure,” she says, looking torn, biting her lip in a way that you find immensely attractive. “Is there a way to know?”

“Well, we could try it ourselves,” you suggest. “Just for a night.”

The suggestion sits between the two of you for a moment, Brooke’s mouth making a little ‘o’ as she considers your words.

“You mean, make love?” she asks, her eyes wide. “Right here? In the arts building?”

“You said it yourself,” you smile.

Brooke blushes ferociously as she realises that you might not have meant sex (even though it absolutely was what you were insinuating), and then she slowly closes your laptop lid, passing it back to you.

“Not sex, not here,” she says, glancing at the unlocked door. “I don’t have protection. But...”

The heat on her face speaks volumes, as does the way she leans into you, and you take that as all the signal that you need to caress her face and press your lips against hers, drawing her into a heartstopping kiss. She practically melts into your arms, leaning into you, her little mouth greedy for more of your kisses, and the two of you make out in the chair, the rain continuing to pour outside, her mouth so sweet and right.

“No commitment,” she murmurs as you break for air.

“No commitment,” you agree, and then you tear off her pants, leaving her bottom clad in sheer white panties. You’re hungry for her, and she’s so ****, perched there on your lap.

“On the table,” you command, and she scrambles onto it, splaying her legs against the dark oak, the dampness of her pussy visible through her panties.

You rip her panties downwards and thrust your face into her pretty pink cunt, getting a taste of her slit. Then, with a finger on her clit, you bury your tongue inside her, lapping up her juices, and then you begin to flick your tongue inside her love canal, the motion making her legs tighten around your head.

“Just like that, just like that,” Brooke squeals in a voice a pitch higher than usual.

You pull her legs apart just a fraction, so that your skull doesn’t get crushed between her thighs, and you focus on making long movements up and down, reaching the depths of her pussy to the best of your abilities. She seems to like this even more, as her words blur into eeps that make you glad for the noise of the storm outside, and you keep up the effort, feeling her body tensing, drawing ever closer to the edge.

She cums as you continue making a circuit through her pussy, the pungent odours a colourful mix for your nose. Her legs go jelly around your shoulders, her pussy vibrating beneath your tongue, and the long moan that emerges from Brooke’s mouth tells you that you’ve done your job well.

“Mmm… is it wrong that I loved that?” Brooke murmurs as she finally regains her wits, watching you work your pants off.

“On the contrary, it’s what we set out to do,” you say with a grin, as you fish your cock out. “Now, somebody’s got a favour to return.”

You slam your cock on the table, and Brooke’s eyes widen as she sees it for the first time, subconsciously biting her lip again.

“Let me know how I do,” she says, and then she crawls towards you on the table, towards the cock that you’ve planted like a flag on the table’s edge.

She reaches it with her tongue stuck out, and she runs it down your length, wetting your stiff member. She gives it several long licks, making sure to slobber over the sides, and then she rubs her cheek against your bulging tip, her hands fondling your balls.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you mutter, and you catch her smile as she opens her mouth, receiving your length.

Her mouth is so warm and slick, like an old comfort, her lips wrapped tight around your cock. She bobs across your length, looking up at you the whole while, her blue eyes watching you attentively. The sensations across your cock are a wondrous thing, her tongue swirling across your surface, there one moment, somewhere else the next. You grasp her brunette hair, guiding her to a faster pace, and she obliges, sucking you off with an intensity that makes you gasp.

“Oh, yes, that’s it,” you manage to say, as she works your pole, somehow managing to take more of your length into her without gagging.

The sight of your shaft, disappearing then reappearing into her hot little mouth, is something that you could never tire of, the smooth motion of her giving head bringing you closer to the brink. She brings her hand to your cock, starting to jack you off as she blows you, and as her grip tightens and her mouth sinks deep in you, you feel your load about to burst.

“I’m cumming,” you cry out.

You can see the smile in Brooke’s eyes as you erupt into her mouth, thick ropes of cum splattering her throat and her mouth, and she eagerly sucks it all down, giving your shaft a final lick once you’re all spent. She licks her lips while you feel the burst of joy from the orgasm run its course through your body, and you sit back in your chair.

“I loved that too,” you say, feeling a stupid smile cross your face as Brooke tilts her head to the side, finding something amusing about you.

She gets off the table, dressing herself again, and then sits down on your lap, pulling her laptop closer to her.

“Believe it or not, that just gave me the inspiration I needed,” Brooke says, rapidly typing on her computer. “I think I know just what this essay needs.”

“Brilliant,” you murmur. You wrap your arms around her waist and rest your head on her shoulder, and watch her plant her new idea on the screen.

Brooke +25