Her Dirty Professor Series (21+)

Inside, the house is exactly how I pictured it would be: cozy, lived in, pictures of their family covering all available surfaces. We go into the dining room, where the table has been set. The rest of her family has already taken their seats and are waiting on us.

It’s a large table with an elegant lace tablecloth and gold runner down the middle. Large clear vases filled with cranberries and dried flowers in fall colors make up the centerpieces, and the entire room is lit with candles. It’s comfortable and homey, filled with tvoices, laughter, children, and memories being made.

“This is my oldest brother, Cameron, his wife, Jenny, and their two kids, Marley and Trixie,” Georgia says, introducing me. Cameron is well groomed, a kind of nerdy looking guy, his wife a bit overweight but pretty. Their two small children, neither of them over five, keep reaching for the candles, their mother patting at their hands.

The middle brother’s name is Blake. He eyes me skeptically, but it’s a bit over-rehearsed, like he’s been practicing at being intimidating. If he wasn’t nearly a foot shorter than me and about seventy pounds shy, it might’ve had the desired effect. His wife has a terrible case of resting bitch face and looks as though she’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment with her young children arguing over silverware at the table.

The youngest, London, sixteen, has sort of a goth thing going on, wearing eyeliner and black clothes. He wears headphones and plays a handheld video game. I feel like I already know these people from everything Georgia has said about them.

“Hi, everyone. It’s good to finally meet you,” I say.

I go around the table, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries until I get to London, who ignores me. We sit down to eat. Mrs. Brightly brings out a large turkey, and there’s every side dish I can imagine. They go about the table and say what they’re grateful for. The two older brothers say their jobs and family. Georgia’s parents say the same. London says “tits” and his dad threatens to send him to his room, and the younger kids who know what tits are laugh.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

This causes enough of a distraction so that the family forgets that Georgia and I haven’t said what we are thankful for, but I lean over to her and whisper, “I’m grateful for you.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing about you,” she says, nudging my arm with an elbow.

We start eating. I’m in and out of different conversations with the older brothers when Georgia’s mom asks, “Will the two of you be staying in Georgia’s old room tonight?”

Her dad’s eyebrows rise as if it just now occurred to him that Georgia and I might be sleeping together.

London looks up for the first time, his black eyeliner gooped up in the inner corners of his eyes.

“I better not hear you going at it tonight,” he says.

“London!” cries Mrs. Brightly.

Cameron slaps him on the back of the head and tells him not to talk like that in front of the children.

Georgia’s dad just shakes his head like he’s used to this kind of behavior.

It’s quiet for several uncomfortable seconds.

I’m not sure what to say. Not about London, and not about our sleeping arrangements. We hadn’t made prior plans. I wanted to get a feel for the place and Georgia’s family, gage my comfort levels before deciding what to do and what options were available to us. I just assumed I’d be sleeping on a couch somewhere, which is fine since we’re only here for a couple of days.

“Actually,” Georgia says, “I figured Loche and I would find a motel in town. That way the little ones will have a place to sleep.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Brightly says. “There’s plenty of room. We can bring out the air mattresses. I don’t want you to spend any more money than you have to.”

“We’re sure, Mom.”

After dinner, we head toward the Hilton. Being around her family was nice, and I enjoyed hearing stories about Georgia’s life when she was younger, but the screaming children were a bit much. One day I’d like to have a few of my own with Georgia, but until then, I’ll enjoy the silence.

Once we’re in a suite, Georgia goes to the mirror in the bathroom and takes off her earrings and washes off her makeup. “I’m so sorry about my family. They can be over the top.”

While she’s busy in the bathroom, I take the engagement ring out of my pocket and put it in my overnight bag among my toiletries. Then I take off everything but my boxers and prepare for bed.

“Are you kidding? I like your family. Your brother London was a trip.”

I was going to give her the ring tonight at dinner with her family watching, but with her little brother being a tool and all the kids running around screaming, I couldn’t find the right moment. Both Georgia and I are quiet people, more intimate than outlandish-other than the time I made that porn. I suppose it comes from years with our heads in books. I don’t think Georgia would appreciate some public spectacle of a proposal like I’ve seen from others. Something more intimate seems closer to her style. Something genuine, from the heart.

I’ve scraped my brain for ideas on how to propose. If this keeps up, it’ll never happen. I decide just to go for it.

Even though I’m closer to my bag than Georgia is, I say, “Babe, could you grab the ibuprofen from my overnight bag, please?”

Concern touches her voice. “Why, are you all right?”

“Just a little headache.”

She goes for the bag. The ibuprofen isn’t in there. She’ll search through every inch of the bag before realizing that.

She was in the middle of changing into her night clothes when I called on her and is only in a thong and bra. I smile at the sight of her gorgeous round ass spreading as she squats to look inside. The content of my bag is being tossed aside as she searches.

“I don’t think . . .” Her voice trails off. She must’ve found it, but I can’t tell for sure because her back is to me.

The waiting is giving me heart palpitations. Seems like forever as she sits there, silent. She’s probably wondering if she was supposed to see it. If maybe she found it by accident and had ruined some great surprise I had planned. But after a year, she knows me better than that.

I get up off the bed and walk toward her. She slowly stands from her crouch and turns toward me. The velvet box is cradled in her hands, tears shimmer in her eyes, and her nose turns pink.

“Is this what I think it is?” she asks, her voice thick with emotion.

I take the box from her and kneel down on one knee.

Her hands cover her mouth and the unshed tears spill over.

I show her the ring. A two-carat princess-cut diamond solitaire with a platinum band. She stares into the box, eyes growing wide.

“Georgia Brightly, will you marry me?”

She lets out a quick sob, a burst of sound, before clamping her mouth shut, and nods vigorously, unable to get words out. Then she simply says, “Yes!”

I take the ring from its cushion and slip it on her finger. A perfect fit like I knew it would be. I’d taken one of her other rings to the jewelry store when I was having it sized, just to make sure.

As soon as I’m on my feet again, she throws herself in my arms, and we both tumble onto the bed in a heap of entwined limbs with me on top. Her arms wrapped around my neck, she kisses me hard and deep, her grateful tongue searching out for mine. Her tongue tastes like strawberry-it’s always sweet even without chewing gum or eating candy. By the time I release her mouth from mine, my dick is at full-mast and aching to be inside her.

Sitting up, I dig beneath her until I find the clasp of her bra and unleash her from its burden. The small, delicious mounds of her breasts are too inviting to ignore. I lip at a puffy pink nipple, sucking it into my mouth, while my other hand pinches and pulls at the other.

She clings to me with her silky thighs, moaning and arching her back to push her panty-clad pussy against my steel cock.

I release her breast from my mouth and kiss the hard tip. I spread her legs apart. When I position myself in front of her, I grab her heels and place them on my shoulders, and I slowly rock into her. She moans as I slide my hands down her narrow waist. I reach for her full hips and take hold, pulling her closer, pushing in another inch.

Once I’m fully engulfed by the velvet walls of her vagina, I lean forward, folding her in half, our faces nose to nose. Gently kissing her soft mouth, I tell her, “I love you so much.”

I want to burrow beneath the satin layers of skin, crawl between her wet folds, be so deep inside of her she feels it in every fiber of her being.

She looks up at me with the most radiant smile. “I love you too.”

THE END