Wonderful Life! Ch. 05

I didn't think this moment would come so soon, but the panties Mom bought me last time looked so worn out that I was embarrassed to wear them anymore.

Which meant I had nothing to wear under my pantyhose.

Sounds like a problem a guy isn't supposed to have. But lately I'd racked up so many problems guys aren't supposed to have that I'd even stopped being surprised.

The blue panties had stretched out in front, as if I'd been carrying something impressive in them instead of what I actually had. The elastic on the red thong had snapped. I'd say those two pairs died a hero's death.

There were three more pairs left in the closet from Mom's bags. White, beige, and some peach-colored ones with a little bow. But by this point I had developed a tiny sense of style. And all the remaining pairs looked pretty weird with pantyhose.

I needed black. Just plain black panties to match the pantyhose. Was that so much to ask? It occurred to me that Mom, generally speaking, never refused to buy me women's clothes, so I could get those black panties without paying a cent.

And still I was avoiding that conversation with Mom. So I picked the one who, in my head, seemed less scary.

The door to Sasha's room was open. My sister was sitting on the bed in somebody's T-shirt, painting her toenails. The floor was total chaos.

"What do you want?" she asked without looking up.

"Can you help me with something?"

"I'm broke," she snorted, as if I had ever once asked her for money.

"No, not with that."

She raised her head and put the brush back in the bottle of polish.

"Do you have any black panties?" I asked, and suddenly felt such a rush of shame it was as if I'd crapped myself right in front of her. "Any kind."

Sasha was silent for a few seconds, looking at me. Then her shoulders started shaking, and she laughed at me so hard she smudged the polish on her big toe. And didn't even get upset about it.

"Oh my God," she squeezed out. "My little brother came to borrow panties from his big sister. Well, how about that. You know, I've actually been waiting for this day since the moment you were born. I always believed you couldn't possibly be a real man."

"Sasha, do you have any or not?" I said indignantly.

"Of course I do. Like ten pairs." She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Only you'd drown in them."

"What?"

"You're a smaller size, remember? You're a small, and I'm this." She shifted onto one side and hiked her T-shirt up to the small of her back. I caught sight of pink panties on her, and she smacked herself on a pretty substantial cheek. "So, sorry, little brother."

I was looking at my sister's ass--at her own invitation, no less. Apparently she no longer considered me a man at all, so she wasn't shy about it.

"Fine," I said. "Forget it."

"No, no, no, hold on. Why do they have to be black, anyway? Some boy ask you to?"

"Get lost."

She smirked.

"Go to Mom. She's got a whole warehouse stocked up for you. She'll be thrilled to hear that from you." Sasha went back to her nails and polish.

Mom's room was on the first floor, at the end of the hall. In nineteen years I'd gone in there maybe twenty times, and every time on some kind of business. So you could say it was my mother's office, where I could get certain important matters settled. It was also the cleanest place in the house. The bed always perfectly made, the vanity in complete order, and always the smell of a pleasant perfume that seemed strict to me.

I knocked with a trembling hand.

"Yes," came my mother's voice, as if it really was a boss's office, for fuck's sake.

Mom was standing in front of the mirror, almost fully dressed for work already: a gray knee-length skirt, a white blouse, her hair gathered at the back of her head. Her jacket hung on the back of a chair. The blouse wasn't tucked into the skirt yet, and it was only buttoned halfway, so in the mirror I could see her white lace bra. She was putting on lipstick and looking at me through the mirror.

"Did you take out the trash?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Then what is it?"

My mouth went dry with fear. Why had I even come to her with a question like this... I should have asked somebody I barely knew. Emma from college, say.

"Mom, I need new panties," I said, working up my courage. "Black ones."

She finished her lips and carefully capped the lipstick, then put it back in its place on the vanity--a place meant for that exact lipstick.

She smiled as if she'd come out of a long depression very fast.

"Black?" she repeated. "Of course."

She pulled out the bottom drawer of the dresser. Sure enough, there lay a strategic reserve of underwear in my size. I saw about eight packages. She'd bought them in advance and simply waited for me to ask. A whole month.

It scared me what a patient snake my mother was. She would have waited longer, if that's what it took.

From a distance, the panties she chose looked on the plainer side. No lace, and not cut for sex games.

She took out a package, walked over, and placed it in my hands. Her palms rested on top of mine. So dry and warm.

"Finally," she said quietly. "You are saying the right things to me. You asked for what you actually need, and no one refused you."

"Thank you," I said.

She was looking at me the way she only ever looked at Sasha. Actually, not even that. With her she was still a little angry. But right now she was looking at me as if I were no longer the awful child I'd been my whole life.

Then she took me by the chin and kissed me.

At first I thought she'd meant to peck me on the cheek and just missed. You know, the last time she kissed me was way back in early childhood; her aim could've drifted. But her lips landed right on mine and stayed there. They were soft and tasted like her lipstick. Something like wax and vanilla.

I froze with the package of new panties in my hands. My head was empty. White noise, like a TV with no antenna.

Her hand moved to the back of my head, her fingers dug into my hair, and she didn't let me pull away. Her lips parted, and I felt her tongue. It pushed right up against my teeth, calm and insistent, as if it knew the door would be opened for it.

I didn't resist, and I opened my mouth a little.

I don't know why. I just didn't understand yet what was happening.

Her tongue was hot, and it behaved in my mouth the way she behaved in the house: like it owned the place, unhurried, in complete control of the situation. She pressed me against her, and her breasts pushed into my chest through the blouse. I still wasn't moving. Then I gave in after all and started kissing back. As uselessly as with Elsa my first few times. My tongue touched her tongue, and Mom let out a quiet breath into my mouth. That sent goosebumps running down my spine.

My dick instantly reached peak condition and nearly punched straight through my around-the-house shorts.

I was pressing my hard-on into my mother's stomach and making out with her. Like adults, with tongue, in her bedroom. Lord, if you exist, you'd better not look in the direction of our house.

It went on for several minutes. She pulled away herself, when she felt like it. She looked at my lips and ran her thumb over them to wipe off the traces of lipstick.

"Don't forget to take out the trash," she said, as if nothing had happened, and went back to the mirror, where she uncapped the lipstick and touched up her lips.

I stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind me. Stood by the wall and let out a heavy breath. I stared at a painting of a boat and tried to understand why I wanted that to happen again.

Upstairs I locked my door and sat for a long time with the package of panties on my lap. Then I remembered that I actually needed to hurry if I didn't want to be late for class.

The new panties fit me great. In front, my now-soft dick was neatly pressed down and didn't bother me nearly as much as it had in the red thong. Next I pulled on Elsa's pantyhose.

I opened the closet and stood in front of the mirror.

It looked great. The panties didn't call attention to themselves; they just did their job. Exactly the way I wanted.

I turned sideways, set one leg out a little to show off my ass, and raised my phone. Click. Then from behind, over my shoulder. Click.

I cropped my face out, out of habit, and sent Elsa two shots. She'd been online until late at night, which meant she was asleep right now. I'd get a reply later.

After that I pulled on my jeans and hoodie, took out the trash, and got on the bus.

Philosophy was held in the old building, on the third floor. The way there led up a staircase with worn-down steps, each with a little dip in the middle. Then a hallway with portraits of bearded dudes who had founded this college and had now been granted the eternal right to stare down at us from the walls with haughty looks. And on top of that, the parquet creaked after every step.

All of group One-oh-four was standing outside the door. Nobody was really talking.

"Only a quarter of her students pass the exam," Gosha said in my ear. "Pretty much the same stats every year. A friend of Roxy's went here. The other three quarters go to the retake, and that's usually where their education ends."

"You really know how to set the mood before class. Thanks," I snorted.

"Hey, anytime."

In a month I'd been to Beladonna's class four times, and in all that time nothing terrible had happened. Mostly because she paid no attention to me. But other students had already had their first problems with her. As for me, the role of the invisible gray mouse suited me perfectly, if it would help me get a passing grade in her subject.

Usually I sat by the window and tried to write down everything she said. But today was a seminar. Everybody was giving a presentation. Five minutes at the board, then questions from the professor.

And I was damn well prepared. I'd spent two evenings in the library, until the lady with the keys kicked me out. Read books by three philosophers and took notes. It came out to four pages of pure information, but I was very proud of them.

Emma was whispering with Charlotte nearby, but I could hear everything.

"She's not fond of men," Emma was saying. "But she dislikes liars even more. Lie to her once and that's it. You can forget about your education."

"I wasn't planning to lie anyway," Charlotte whispered.

The bell rang, and at the same moment heels started clicking at the end of the hallway.

Beladonna came down the hallway with a confident stride. She was around forty-five. Red hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, with a few stray strands. Light green eyes. A dark gray suit: a fitted jacket and a narrow knee-length skirt. A slim waist, small breasts--a B- or C-cup. But what was below the waist stood out plenty. Her ass was not small, and it looked very mature. Like a lot of people, I looked at it in class.

Behind her walked Anna, her teaching assistant. A grad student, skinny as a coat hanger, with long blond dreadlocks gathered into a ponytail and the face of an unbelievable bitch. A purple turtleneck, a gray skirt, black boots. She dressed in Beladonna's style but didn't look as "expensive," as Elsa would have put it.

Beladonna opened the door and went in. We followed.

The classroom was high-ceilinged but cold. Dark wood paneling, three huge windows along the left wall, and heavy desks standing in rows. The radiators seemed to be working, but you couldn't feel any heat from them. Up front, a long blackboard and a raised platform, and on it the professor's desk. Above the door hung a round clock that the students loved to keep glancing at. Maybe even loved it more than looking at Beladonna's ass.

Anna sat down unobtrusively off to the side and opened the grade book.

"The topic of today's seminar is identity," Beladonna announced. She never raised her voice. She didn't need to. Everyone listened to her as attentively as humanly possible. "In other words, who decides who you really are. I am not interested in what you have read. Even idiots can read. I am interested in whether anything at all remained in your heads after the reading. Let us begin."

What followed was a massacre, if you can call it that.

First up was one of the football players, who read something about Descartes off a sheet of paper. She stopped him after a minute and inquired whether he understood a single word of what he had just said. He confidently declared that he did. She asked him to repeat it without the paper, but he couldn't manage it. Anna marked his name in the grade book.

Gosha went third. He decided to speak from memory.

"I believe your identity is like a pepperoni pizza," he began, and I suddenly felt so embarrassed for him that I covered my face with my hands. "No matter how you slice it, it's still..."

Beladonna was surprised by his very first sentence.

"Sit down," she said. "The only reason I will not give you a bad grade is that you managed to formulate something on your own. But I have no intention of listening to such nonsense."

Gosha sat down with a face so pleased it was as if he'd gotten hold of a cheat code for philosophy class.

Then Emma went up. In a plaid skirt, on heels, and with a small sheet of paper she never once looked at. She spoke for about three minutes, and the whole time about herself. About how, since she was fourteen, people had been explaining to her who she was. And how at some point she'd stopped caring about other people's opinions.

"That is not philosophy," Beladonna remarked when Emma fell silent.

"No," Emma agreed. "It's the truth."

Beladonna looked at her, and then nodded. A rustle went through the room, because a lot of people understood that Emma had done well on her presentation.

"Next."

That was me.

I walked up to the board with my four pages of notes, ready to demolish this stuck-up Beladonna on the topic I'd prepared for. But my hands were shaking anyway.

"According to John Locke, personal identity is determined by continuity of consciousness," I began. "In other words, a person remains the same person for as long as--"

"Stop."

I shut up instantly.

"That is Locke," Beladonna agreed, not looking in my direction. "Next, I assume, will be Hume. Then one of the Germans, to impress me with the breadth of your knowledge. And where in all of this will you be?"

"I was just summarizing."

"You hid behind clever words."

Little pockets of laughter at my expense began flaring up around the room. First somebody in the back snickered. Then somebody else. And off it went. My ears were burning with shame.

"Who told you who you really are?" she asked, finally turning her attention to me. "Your mother? Your friends? The DMV, perhaps?"

"Nobody. I know it all myself."

"No. You have not even tried to find out. Sit down."

Anna wrote my name down somewhere. On the list of losers, apparently.

I went back to my seat. Why had I spent so much time preparing? Gosha said some nonsense about pizza, and his result was the same, if not better. Fucking philosophy.

Kimmi went up to the board. She spoke clearly, and Beladonna didn't even interrupt her.

My phone twitched in the pocket of my hoodie.

I shouldn't have taken it out. I suspected Elsa might be awake by now, but I felt so shitty that I wanted to see at least something good. I lowered my hand under the desk and glanced at the screen.

BABE

what legs. who is this sexy little thing. i literally woke up

here, you earned it. fresh, from yesterday

And under those messages, a two-minute video.

I swallowed and looked at the board. Beladonna was listening closely to Kimmi and lightly tapping her pen on the desk. Everyone around me was keeping their eyes on Kimmi too, afraid of being punished by Beladonna.

I turned off the sound, shielded the phone with my palm to avoid curious glances, and started the video.

Elsa was on all fours. On that same white rug where I'd recently been crawling at her feet. Naked.

There was a guy behind her. But he wasn't fully in the frame. Two black hands on her waist, and a cock. Nothing else.

His cock was such that I nearly blurted out "Wow!" right there in the classroom. Black, thick, slick all over with lube. It was going into my girlfriend's ass so slowly and so deep that I couldn't quite understand where in there she was fitting that thing. She weighed maybe a hundred and ten pounds. There physically shouldn't have been that much room in her.

She looked into the camera and smiled. By then she already had a cock in her ass, and the red lipstick on her face had turned into a weird smear. She winked at me. She knew I'd be watching this.

My dick got hard, but the new panties were doing a decent job of holding it down. In the end I just had a visible bulge between my legs.

The guy wound Elsa's ponytail around his fist and pulled it toward him. Elsa arched, opened her mouth, and I didn't need sound to know how loudly she was moaning at that moment. Her fingers dug into the pile of the rug.

The huge cock was driving into her so fast that her phone's camera could barely keep up with the motion. Elsa's eyes were rolling back, and she was shaking from orgasms. I had never managed to get her into a state like that, but, fuck, how beautiful she was in that video.

A normal guy in my place would have been jealous, or angry. I could have at least imagined myself in that guy's place. But I watched her tremble with pleasure and thought about only one thing. What is it like, to feel something like that?

"Check it out," Gosha whispered, and jabbed me in the side with his elbow so he could show me a drawing in his notebook.

I jerked. The phone slid off my thigh.

Those were the kind of seconds that last longer than an entire life. I watched it fall. Watched it flip over in the air. Prayed it would land screen down.

It landed in the aisle between the rows with a crash, as if I'd thrown a brick. The screen was facing up. Well, of course it was, fuck. The universe hates me, I know that.

Kimmi fell silent mid-word. The whole room turned in my direction while, on the floor, a foot and a half from my leg, a video played of Elsa getting fucked in the ass.

I reached for the phone, but Beladonna's heels were already clicking down the aisle. One, two, three, four. She stopped over me, and I pulled my hand back.

Beladonna bent down and picked up the phone herself.

Never in my life had I prayed so hard for a phone to stop working. For the screen to go dark for any reason at all. Hell, for it to shatter to pieces. Maybe the power had gone out in the college, or an earthquake had started. Anything.

She held the phone in her hand and watched. From where she stood, she was the only one who could see the video, but that didn't make it one damn bit easier. Not a single muscle in her face twitched. But her pupils got a little narrower.

Then she pressed the button on the side, dropped the phone into the pocket of her jacket, and turned toward the board.

"You may continue," she told Kimmi.

And went back to her desk. She didn't say a word, and that was how I knew I was in big trouble. She sat down and went on listening to presentations.

"What was on there?" Gosha whispered. "The way she was looking at that screen. What, did you have my pics open?"

"Just shut up, please."

"Okay, okay, what's your problem?"

There was half an hour left until the bell. I knew exactly, because I looked at the clock above the door every twenty seconds. Beladonna acted as if nothing had happened.

I'd rather she had screamed at me or thrown me out of class than this agonizing wait for the consequences.

The bell did ring eventually. Everybody jumped up and stampeded for the exit. I stayed in my seat and waited for them all to leave, because I didn't want to go without my phone.

"Want me to wait for you?" Gosha asked.

"No idea. Probably not."

"Okay. Good luck, then."

He left.

Anna was slowly gathering her things and glancing sideways at me.

"Anna, take the grade book to the dean's office," Beladonna said without raising her head.

"I can take it later."

"Now."

Anna didn't resist any further and took the grade book. As she passed me, she smiled with one corner of her mouth. It occurred to me that she might know what kind of chewing-out Beladonna was about to give me.

"Close the door," Beladonna said, looking at me.

I got up, walked to the door, and closed it. I would have preferred something soundproof here instead of a wooden door, because this conversation was clearly not going to be a pleasant one.

"Come here."

I walked up to the desk. The room had gotten so quiet, and sunlight was pouring in through the windows.

Beladonna took my phone out of her pocket and laid it on the desk in front of me.

"Unlock it."

I got the passcode wrong twice, as if it weren't my phone. But on the third try it worked. The video was paused. Elsa on all fours, a man behind her, and his cock in her ass.

"You did not manage to deliver your presentation today," Beladonna began. "I will give you a second attempt. Tell me, in your own words, what is happening in this video."

I thought I'd misheard.

"What?"

"You heard the assignment perfectly well. You were watching this in my class, which means you found it more interesting than philosophy. So tell me what is so interesting about it. I am listening."

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"There's... a girl," I began, not wanting to tell her that the one in the video was my beloved Elsa.

"Go on."

"She's on all fours. On a rug."

"Go on."

"She's being held by the hair. She's arching her back. Her arms and legs are shaking. She can barely hold the position, because it's..." I swallowed, horrified by the situation I'd ended up in. "It's not easy for her right now. But it looks like she really likes it."

"What makes you think she likes it?"

"You can tell from her face."

"And what, in your opinion, is being done to her?"

I went silent. Words like that just didn't want to come out of my mouth in front of a grown woman I barely knew.

"Come now, say it the way it is," she said. "You are an adult."

"She's getting fucked," I said. "In the ass."

"By whom?"

"A Black man."

"Enough."

She stood. Walked around the desk and stopped at the edge of the platform. In her enormous heels she was a head taller than me.

"Now listen to me," she said with a certain amount of irritation. "It does not surprise me in the least that you watch pornography. You are a man, so it would be strange to expect more from you. It does not even surprise me that you do it in my seminar. In fact, I am even grateful to you, because now I can destroy your life, and the world will be a better place for it. But what does make me angry is that out of all the porn videos in existence, you opened one like this."

She picked up the phone and turned the screen toward me.

"A woman on her knees. Held by the hair like a dog on a leash. And used in whatever way will be most humiliating for her. That is what you need, isn't it? Not a woman. You need her to be down below. Because only next to someone who is on all fours do people like you feel like you are anybody at all."

"I'm not--" I didn't get to finish, but I already understood that she was heading in completely the wrong direction.

"Do not dare interrupt me. There is nothing sane about this pathetic male need to dominate. Nothing! I have been teaching for twenty years, and in all that time I have watched boys who cannot string two words together into a sentence, yet know exactly in what position, in which hole, and how they would like to bend a girl over. Take you, for example. Today at the board you could not answer an elementary question. But here, on your phone, you have, as I can see, perfect clarity."

She set the phone down on the desk with such a smack it was as if she wanted it to break. She opened some notebook and marked me down on her personal expulsion list. This year I was the first one on it.

And that was it. One word, and I was already practically expelled.

"Please," I whimpered. "I'll learn all of it. I prepared, I really didn't want it to turn out like this."

"What are you hiding there?"

I didn't understand right away what she meant. I looked down.

I was standing there pulling my hoodie down with both hands, using it, among other things, to keep my nerves in check. I had a raging hard-on again, and the bulge between my legs was noticeable. The erection had weakened when the phone fell, but while I was telling Beladonna how my girlfriend was getting fucked in the ass in the video, it had all come back--and maybe in an even harder version.

"Nothing," I said.

"Move your hands."

I didn't. I just couldn't do it.

Beladonna sighed irritably, as if I were merely the latest difficult student in her career. She walked over to the board and picked up the pointer. Long, wooden. I was sure it was intended for corporal punishment rather than for pointing at anything on the board.

She hooked the edge of my hoodie with the tip of the pointer and pulled it up. I unclenched my fingers, because there was no point anymore. She had such a determined, displeased look that it was immediately clear: resistance was useless.

I didn't quite understand what she was expecting to see. She could hardly be interested in a look at my erection. Or maybe she really did want to see it. Who knows. I was, after all, just the latest student who had gotten turned on in her class and tried to hide it.

I turned bright red at that moment.

Above the waistband of my jeans there was no bare stomach. There was black nylon. The wide waistband of the pantyhose I'd pulled all the way up to my belly button that morning to take a couple of photos for my girlfriend. The pantyhose stuck out a couple of inches above my jeans, and there would have been room there for the words "Yes, I wear pantyhose." Although even without the words, that sentence would have popped into the head of anyone who could have seen it.

Beladonna froze for a couple of seconds.

"What is this?" she asked.

The tip of the pointer stopped half an inch from the waistband, pointing straight at it.

To be honest, I didn't have a single explanation in my head for what it could be. And Emma's words about how it was better not to lie to Beladonna kept surfacing in my memory. I had already lied a couple of times, but she might not have noticed.

"Pantyhose," I said.

"Pantyhose," she repeated.

"Yes."

The clock was ticking so loudly it was as if somebody were hammering on my head.

The pointer slid lower. Along the waistband of my jeans, down the zipper and over my thighs.

"And the jeans you have on are women's as well," Beladonna observed. "High rise, no pockets, a short zipper. Hm. How did I not see this before?"

"I've been wearing them since the first day."

"Then I have not looked at you once."

Dear God, if only it had stayed that way. That suited me completely.

"Unbutton them," she said.

"What?" My face twisted in surprise.

"Your jeans. Unbutton them."

Interesting: purely in theory, this was already enough for me, in this whole situation, to become the one deciding the fate of Beladonna's career, rather than her deciding mine. But that thought flashed through my head only as a passing observation. I had no intention, of course, of reporting her to the police.

Instead, I undid the button and the zipper of my jeans.

The jeans parted a little. Under them were the same pantyhose, and under the pantyhose, the black panties. They were holding my erection back with everything they had, but the bulge immediately slipped out of the jeans, and on top of it a wet spot of precum was faintly showing.

"And this?" Beladonna asked, as if she couldn't stop being surprised.

"Panties."

"I noticed it is not a necktie," she snorted. "I am curious where you got them. You did not steal them in the dorms, did you?"

"My mom gave them to me. This morning."

There was nothing left to hide. She'd seen everything I would have wanted to keep hidden.

"Your mother gives you women's underwear?" she said slowly, as if turning it all over in her head.

"Exclusively women's."

"What an interesting woman."

She took the pointer away. The hoodie did fall back into place, but it didn't hide the black bulge between my legs one bit. And my jeans were slowly sliding off my ass.

Beladonna went back behind her desk and sat down. She looked at me for a long time, tapping her nails on the desk. She seemed irritated, and I was afraid to speak.

"I misread you," she said at last. "That rarely happens to me, and I very much dislike it when it does."

I said nothing.

"Do you remember how you described the scene in the video to me?" she asked.

"That the girl's on all fours..."

"Do not trouble yourself. You emphasized the following points: she is being held by the hair, she is arching her back, her arms and legs are shaking, it is not easy for her but she likes it very much." She repeated my words and even kept my intonation. It sounded kind of strange. "It looked as though you were ready to go on describing her for some time, while about the man you said only that he is Black. And even that I had to drag out of you."

I didn't understand what she was getting at.

"A man who needs to dominate would have told me what he is doing to this girl," Beladonna continued. "You, however, told me what is being done to her. A little more and I would have heard the story from her point of view. Those are different perspectives. So which of the two did you imagine yourself as when you were watching this porn?"

"Neither," I mumbled. "I was just watching a video."

She smirked.

"If you lie to me one more time, you can forget about studying in this place. Is that clear?"

I nodded.

"Let us come at it from the other side," she proposed. "What is the man in this video feeling?"

I looked at the freeze-frame on the phone screen.

"I don't know," I answered without thinking.

"At least make a guess."

"Well, it feels good for him, probably."

"'Probably'?" She almost laughed.

"He's strong. He's..." I faltered. "I really don't know."

I honestly tried to understand. But how could I put myself in the place of a guy that huge with a cock that insanely big? On top of everything, he was fucking my Elsa in the ass. While I still had to be patient just so she would even consider the idea of me getting inside her.

"Good. Then what is she feeling?"

"I think at first she was scared. She might have been wondering whether a cock like that would even fit in her. I mean, it's huge. Then somehow she got over the fear, maybe because she was turned on. Everything's burning inside her. The orgasms keep rolling in one after another... And the longer it goes on, the less she wants it to end. Maybe she's even forgotten her own name right now. Her eyes rolled back from the insane pleasure..."

I stopped, because I'd heard myself.

Fuck, I couldn't say anything about the guy. But about her I'd been talking as if I'd been in her place myself. Where did I even get the idea of how a girl feels when she's getting fucked in the ass by a cock that huge?

Beladonna just looked at me.

"Are you finished, or do you have something to add?"

"Finished."

"Then now you will be able to answer. Which of the two do you imagine yourself as?"

My mouth went so dry it was as if, on a subconscious level, I was resisting the very words I wanted to let out of it.

"Her," I hissed.

"There." She nodded. "In those words, you are present. Remember this conversation, if you plan to go on studying at this college."

I couldn't have forgotten it even if I tried really hard.

She rose from the desk and walked to the edge of the platform. She looked down at me, but not the way she had before. Back then I'd been a cockroach she had to exterminate. Now I had definitely been promoted, at minimum to a house pet.

"Do not flatter yourself, I still find you unpleasant," she declared. "But you turned out not to be who I took you for, and that changes a great deal. I despise men who need someone on their knees in front of them. It is the need of weaklings. Without it they are no one. Nonentities. But a man who himself loves being on his knees and knows his own desires is of interest to me. Men like that do not lie. True, there are so few of them that in twenty years at this college I have seen fewer than I have fingers on one hand."

I didn't know whether that was a compliment or a put-down. Whether I'd done good or not.

"Only I stopped trusting words a long time ago," she added. "One can say anything at all. I prefer that men confirm their words with deeds, because you are all such liars."

"How do you mean?"

"Come here." She pointed at the floor next to her desk. "And get into the same position as the girl in the video."

I looked into her eyes and realized she wasn't joking in the slightest. To be honest, I didn't even know whether Beladonna had any sense of humor at all.

I stepped up onto the platform. By then my jeans had already slid an inch or so lower, to the middle of my ass, and I was holding them up a little with my hand.

"Let go," Beladonna said. "I have no intention of undressing you, but pull your jeans down to your knees. That will be enough for you to understand everything."

I obeyed and pulled my jeans down to my knees. Then I got on my knees and planted my palms on the floor. The parquet in the room was even colder than the air. My hoodie slid up toward the small of my back, and the bare patch of skin was instantly hit by the chill.

And that's how I ended up on all fours in a philosophy seminar. Was it worth spending several days in the library preparing for this... I have no idea.

Beladonna was looking at the screen of my phone, comparing Elsa's pose with what I had come up with.

"Knees wider apart." The toe of her shoe tapped the parquet to the left of one knee, then to the right of the other. I put my knees where she'd shown me. "Now the back. She has an excellent arch, and you are standing there like a log."

I arched, though it wasn't easy for me to stay in that pose, let alone hold my back like that. My hoodie rode up to my shoulder blades, and my cheeks spread as far as they would go. The panties stretched tight over everything between them. I glanced back for an instant and noticed that the outline of my own ass looked simply amazing.

"Do not bend your elbows. Head higher. Like that. Now it is starting to look similar."

She bent down and laid the phone on the floor right in front of my face. Turned the sound up so that Elsa's moans could be heard in every corner of the room, and set the video to loop.

"A visual aid," she explained. "Watch, and check yourself against the correct way to hold this position. And do not move until I allow it."

Then she went back to her seat, pulled a stack of another group's tests toward her, and started grading them.

I didn't quite grasp the point of what was going on. And I thought it would be over quickly. You know, five minutes or so, long enough for me to feel the full depth of my disgrace, then Beladonna would say something unpleasant and we'd go our separate ways. But she finished reading the first test, wrote a grade on it, and picked up the next one.

And on the floor, the same clip of Elsa kept playing over and over.

Without sound, I hadn't fully understood this video. Without sound it's just a beautiful girl who is feeling very good. But with sound, I didn't recognize my Elsa at all.

She wasn't moaning, she was howling. Low, hoarse, with a slight gurgle in her voice. In between the howls she was also talking. Or rather, screaming. "Yes! Yes, like that! Deeper! Fuck my ass! I'm your slut, you hear me? Your dirty slut!" The words ran over one another as if she were drunk. In the background the man's hips slapped against her ass so loudly it was as if someone were applauding with wet hands.

I knew that sound. I'd heard it hundreds of times, only without Elsa's participation.

That was how the actresses sounded in the kind of porn I put on when the regular stuff no longer did it for me. The titles of those videos didn't hold back. "Brainless Cock-Hungry Slut Takes It in the Ass." Something along those lines. I always thought they were wildly overacting. A normal person can't scream like that and spout that kind of garbage. It's all an act for the camera, for big money.

But now that was how my Elsa sounded. And judging by her face, she wasn't acting one bit. In six months with me she had never shown anything even remotely close to this.

The clip was two minutes long. Then the screen went dark for half a second and it all started over. At the forty-second mark she'd turn her head and wink at the camera. At one-ten the guy would wind her ponytail around his fist. At one-thirty she'd break into a shriek. I already knew this video by heart.

Meanwhile Beladonna graded tests as if some relaxing radio station were playing in the background. Elsa was screaming so loudly that it was impossible not to notice, but that woman calmly went on reading.

"Back," she corrected me.

I realized I'd sagged a little, and I arched again.

I counted the replays, because that was the only way I could tell how much time had passed. Five replays, ten minutes. My wrists went numb. On the seventh replay my knees started to ache, and I became aware that parquet is too hard to be kneeling on.

This whole time I had an insane hard-on. You'd think there was plenty about this that was unpleasant, but my dick didn't care about discomfort.

"Did your mother give you the pantyhose as well?" Beladonna asked suddenly.

She didn't look up from whatever test she was reading.

"No."

"Who, then?"

She had no idea that it was the girl from this very video.

"A girl," I said. "My girlfriend."

Beladonna was so surprised she actually looked up.

"You have a girlfriend? Well, well."

"Yes."

"And she knows you wear them?"

"She's the one who asked me to."

"Your slut! Yours!" Elsa screamed right under my nose.

"Your mother buys you women's underwear. Your girlfriend gives you pantyhose," Beladonna said. "You are surrounded by remarkable women who know more about you than you do yourself. You do not deserve it."

With that she went back to the tests.

Somewhere around the fifteenth replay I began noticing new details in the video. I was tired of watching superficially, so now I concentrated on the cock. On how it moved. How it went into Elsa. She stopped breathing for a second each time it did.

And I tried imagining it on myself.

First, pressure. Dull, as if somebody else's fist is pushing into me. I think that it's impossible and that my asshole is about to tear. But it doesn't tear, it gives. Then I already feel filled. There's something hot, hard, and foreign inside me. It goes farther and farther. To a place where I've never had anyone at all. And heavy hands on my waist that don't let me move. I don't have to decide anything. Just stay there and take a cock in my ass.

My dick strained harder in the panties and kept twitching. The head had come partly uncovered, and the frenulum was rubbing against the fabric. The range of motion was tiny, but even that was almost too much.

I noticed that my dick was twitching in time with the guy pushing his cock into Elsa's ass.

The screen went dark for half a second between replays, and I saw my reflection.

My mouth was open. Just like Elsa's. My eyebrows were raised in a little peak. My eyes had rolled back slightly. I was on all fours trying to make the same face Elsa had. The very same expression of a cock-hungry slut.

Beladonna turned a page.

From there, everything only got worse. Or better. I'd stopped being able to tell.

The twentieth replay. The twenty-fifth.

I realized I could come already. Just like that, without touching myself even once. Just from watching a video of Elsa and imagining myself in her place. I hadn't known that was even possible.

"Deeper! More! Don't stop!" Elsa begged.

Beladonna graded the last test, put down her pen, and squared the stack of papers.

Then she stood up.

Heels clicked across the floor. She walked around me and stopped somewhere behind me. Elsa was winking at me for the thirtieth time.

A palm came to rest on my ass.

My whole body jerked, but in a strange way. A wrong way. As if I'd pushed my ass back, like a girl starved for attention. Beladonna's palm was small and very warm. She ran it over my cheeks. First the right one, then the left. The nylon rustled under her fingers.

"Your arms are already shaking," she observed.

I didn't answer.

The palm shifted toward the middle. Two fingers, the middle and the ring finger, settled into the cleft between my cheeks and slid downward. Slowly. I had a guess as to what was happening, but I didn't move.

She brought her fingers to my asshole and pressed.

Just barely. Through the pantyhose and the panties. You'd think I'd been fantasizing about this for a full half hour, but the moment I was given it, I got scared. And at that same moment the orgasm came right up close.

I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched everything I had that could clench. Teeth, fingers, stomach. I was trying to hold shut a door with an entire roomful of liquid on the other side. It was insanely hard, but I couldn't let myself come from her fingers on my asshole. It scared me even to think about it.

The big explosion didn't happen, but my dick started leaking. Without my participation. Without any spasms, convulsions, or pleasure. Just a warm trickle that kept coming and coming, like from a faucet somebody hadn't turned off. I could feel it soaking the panties and spreading through the fabric. It was cum, I had no doubt.

Beladonna gathered my hair at the back of my head and pulled. My head tipped back. My back arched even more. I saw the ceiling and Beladonna's upside-down face above me.

The same thing was happening in the video at that moment. Elsa and I were almost in sync.

A sound flew out of my mouth. Low, hoarse, with a gurgle.

Beladonna was looking down at me and smiling.

"There, now you understand this girl far better than you did an hour ago," she said almost tenderly, like a caring mother. "Now you have no need to retell her feelings. You understand almost all of it yourself."

She held me like that a little longer. Then let go.

"Good girls are entitled to a reward from me," she announced. "It happens rarely, so you should treasure these moments."

She stood in front of my face, her heels ending up on either side of the phone. She turned her back to me, and I heard a zipper zip somewhere above. Decisive and quick.

The skirt slid down her legs past my face and dropped onto the phone screen. Beladonna stepped out of the skirt, picked it up, shook it out, and hung it over the back of the chair. Carefully, so it wouldn't wrinkle. The phone she nudged aside with the toe of her shoe.

"You may look," she explained.

I raised my eyes and swallowed.

Bare, slightly pale legs. Very long and beautiful. Below the waist she had on nothing but a black thong.

Her ass.

For a month I'd been looking at it through her skirt, and I figured I could imagine what it looked like. But I was wrong. It was so big and massive. Two wide cheeks with creases underneath, where they met her thighs. When she walked, a slow wave passed through her cheeks and took a while to settle.

Beladonna stood motionless and let me enjoy the view. But she did nothing to dress it up--didn't arch, didn't bend over. She stood there just as she was.

"Enough," she said. "Now you may kiss it. Stay in that position."

She braced her palms on the edge of the desk and leaned back.

I stretched forward. My lips touched her right cheek. Her skin was cool. It smelled of a bitter perfume.

I kissed it again, a little lower. Then the left cheek. I was kissing her ass, and with each kiss I put more and more passion into it. I didn't want to unstick my lips from her.

My dick was twitching like crazy.

"Good," Beladonna said. "And now do not move."

She took half a step back.

Her ass moved up against my face. Her cheeks settled on mine, soft and heavy. They parted to either side. My nose and lips slid in between them. Deep, all the way to the black strip of the thong. My lips ended up pressed right next to the entrance to her pussy. It got so dark, but insanely thrilling.

She pressed back so tightly that I couldn't breathe.

And at that moment I exploded. I came.

I had no strength left to hold on. It poured out of me. Thin, hot cum. It went through the panties as if they weren't there at all. Then through the pantyhose. It ran down the insides of my thighs, both of them at once, all the way to my knees. A spurt, and another, and another, each one more powerful than the last.

I was moaning. Loudly, out loud, with my face pressed into her ass. I couldn't control it, any more than I could control what was pouring out of me. Somewhere off to the side on the floor, Elsa was moaning the same way. The two of us were moaning in two voices, and it was hard to tell which was mine and which was hers.

So that's what a brainless slut sounds like.

Beladonna stayed like that until everything had poured out of me. Then she stepped forward, and I dropped onto the parquet shoulders first.

And tried to catch my breath.

The zipper of her skirt zipped again. Heels clicked, and Elsa went silent mid-word.

The room got so quiet that my ears started ringing.

By the time I could lift my head, Beladonna was already sitting at her desk as if nothing had happened.

"Get dressed," she said.

I stood up, but my legs would barely obey. I pulled up my jeans, which were instantly soaked along the insides of the thighs. The pantyhose were stuck to my legs from crotch to knees.

"I hope you will have only positive thoughts about philosophy after this class," she said.

I nodded and glanced sideways at her notebook.

"Do I still have problems with philosophy?"

"Of course. The fact that you came in your panties does not relieve you of the need to study. Go home, it is late."

I took my phone and went. I was swaying a little from side to side, but after a few steps that passed.

At the door I stopped. It was ajar. A narrow gap, with cold air seeping in from the hallway.

Strange. I'd closed it myself.

The hallway was empty and dark.

On the stairs, my phone twitched in my pocket.

babe where did you go

did you like the video???

I stood between floors, in wet pantyhose, looking at those two messages. Did I like the video... I knew it by heart. I could even have played the lead in it.

A lot, I wrote.

And that was the honest truth.