Gifted Student

Sander leaned back in his office chair, sighing and rubbing his face. The words that had so easily come to him earlier that week were a struggle that day, and he couldn't help feeling the ticking clock in his mind. Five weeks felt like such a long time to knock out the last half of his novel but they were fast approaching Christmas and he was in danger of losing the fight and having to struggle to write the damn thing when his classes were back in session.

But April Rain awaited, as did his gorgeous wife. His ritual was to save two drafts at the end of every day, one a master file, the other a draft dated the day he worked on it. It was a bit paranoid, but he made mistakes before and it never hurt to be cautious. With that done, he shut down his laptop and stood and stretched.

Outside the second-floor office, the snow fell with steady determination, a white blanket now covering the world outside. It had just started to snow when he sat down to work that morning, and now it was like the bare earth was a myth. Wasn't that a line from Waterworld? Sander shook his head, then collected his coffee mug, shut off his electric space heater, and headed downstairs.

Hazel had been doing more decorating. Strands of red, blue, and gold beads hung from the bannisters, and three porcelain snowmen now sat on the table by the front door instead of the usual decorative vases and bowls. It looked good, and something smelled terrific, sort of buttery and sweet. She'd been baking, or cooking up candy.

Hazel was seated at their kitchen table, wax paper beside her and cake pans in front of her. She had her dark brown hair tied back, her big brows furrowed as they often were when she was concentrating on something. Even in sweats, she was truly beautiful, her soft face a motherly sort of gorgeous and her body leading to a lot of broken hearts in her classes. She carried a bit more weight than she'd like, but he liked the fullness of her, her big ripe breasts, her immensely squeezable ass, the soft stomach, the flare of her hips. Every inch of her felt like home.

"How was the writing?" she asked without looking up from whatever she was wrapping in the wax paper. Caramels, he realized, and his stomach gave a nod of approval.

"Not so good today," he said.

"Did I distract you?"

"How?" The office was tucked away in a corner of the second floor. Unless Hazel had the TV cranked so loud he could feel the vibrations, it was impossible to hear anything from the first floor up there, and she was not a loud woman by nature. Well... excepting the bedroom.

"I thought maybe the smells were your siren call today."

He chuckled. "Nope. But thank you again for the Chex mix this morning. Damn. That was good."

"Lots more. Here, I need you to try two of these. I think I overcooked one batch."

He came to the table and she pointed to the two separate cake pans. He took one of each and tried them, savoring them slowly, the caramels all but melting on his tongue.

"Nope. The one is a little darker-flavored but it's not burnt."

"You're not just saying that?"

"Nope."

He leaned over and kissed her. A good kiss, a proper kiss. She smiled against his lips, and his hand went instinctively to her neck, then her breast. This was where she was starting to show the most. Pregnant, after two years and fears they couldn't have a baby. And God, the thought as always made him wild.

Hazel sensed his hunger and her smile disappeared as she kissed him back more thoroughly, tongue playing against his lips then sliding them apart. He greeted it, then slid a hand under her arm and lifted her. She came willingly, and Sander looked all around at what surfaces were available for their pleasure. One section of the countertop was clear of her baking supplies, and he guided her there before he began the sacred work of undressing his wife.

"Sander," she said, his name a breathy exultation, and he had her sweater off, leaving her topless. No bra around the house, her big breasts exposed for him. He bent and sucked one of her big nipples into his mouth, a hungry snarl escaping him. Soon, they would be full of milk, and whatever control he had was lost as he fantasized about the milk trickling from her breasts across her soft belly, her thighs.

He yanked down Hazel's sweatpants and gripped her by her thick thighs. She laughed throatily as he hoisted her up and deposited her on the countertop, but there was no amusement for him in his need of her. He pushed her by the collarbone until she was leaning back, legs spread wide for him, her pussy on full display. She liked to get lasered, liked the clean feel of it, and he loved it too, but he would have loved it if she'd gone full Amazon forest down there. He loved her, heart, mind, and soul, and his life was not complete until he met her at the college, an entrancing colleague, a dream he could not shake and never wanted to.

He descended upon her cunt, lifting her up off the countertop and burying his mouth against her, tasting her, devouring her. Hazel moaned and gripped his wavy brown hair. "Sander, oh, oh baby, mm..."

He lived for her moans, and gave Hazel plenty to moan about that evening. Something possessed him and spurred him to a wild hunger, his tongue driving deep before bringing the attack to her prominent clit, his thumbs and fingers aiding the cause. Months later, thinking about that night, Sander would wonder if there wasn't something prescient about his need to please Hazel, if he wasn't picking up on some change within her body or something in the air. He didn't believe in psychic talents but something was different about that night, some current he couldn't consciously detect.

But in the moment, all Sander cared about was the pleasure of the future mother of his child.

"Oh, oh, oh my God, yes, suck my clit just like that," she begged. He obliged, driving his middle finger into her wet warmth and she yipped and jumped and spread her legs even farther, her eyes going distant. "Yes, oh, oh God, oh, ohhhhh!"

Her climax came with a jerk of her hips and a well-pleased smile on her face. He guided her down before twisting her around, her juicy ass thrust out as she crossed her arms on the counter, right where her pussy left a mark of her desire. Hazel thought he was going to fuck her but he wasn't done with his treat, not yet. He dropped, knees hitting the tile floor painfully hard but Sander didn't care. He buried his mouth in his wife's pussy again, drawing a sharp, "Ohhhh!" from her.

She drove that ass back against him as his lips and tongue made such lewd noises that it would have sent them into fits of giggles at the start of their relationship. But now there was only the ecstasy of this moment, of her wetness dampening her lips, her inner thighs, the heat of her, the need between them. She cried out again and this time when he stood up, he was ready to fuck her, his hands working his jeans down fast, his big dick springing out, ready for its duty in life.

Sander took Hazel fast and hard, one arm going around her, squeezing one of her big tits. She twisted her head, chanting, "Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, "and he did, crushing his lips to hers, his wife's eyes nearly closed in her rapture. "Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she gasped, and he had a vision of her pregnant and bent over like this, her big belly and breasts ripe in preparation for the life she was about to bring into the world, and he roared his wife's name, driving into her so hard her knees went weak. She would have fallen if he wasn't clutching her tight.

"Come for me, baby, come inside me, oh, ohhhh, please, I n-need it."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he grunted, driving deep, and she cooed as he began to come, filling her full, his cock still driving in and out of her, leaving a mess dribbling down her leg and dripping onto the floor. He held her as his hips began to slow, and finally he pulled out, leaving her panting and laughing.

"Wow," Hazel said, twisting around and steadying herself on the counter. "Wow wow wow. Where did that come from?"

"I thought about you pregnant. That was it for me. Had to have you."

"God, I love that you love me big and fat."

"Hush. It's not about that. You know you're not."

"But I will be. This big ol' butt will get even bigger and these boobs will be like Super Soakers."

He laughed despite himself. "Super Soakers? In my wildest dreams." He held her tight and squeezed her ass. "Baby, you are gorgeous. You will always be gorgeous. I don't want to hear you insult yourself again."

"I know, I just-"

"No. Enough. Tonight, this, this was all because of you. You still drive me so fucking wild for you. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Daddy."

"Daddy, huh?"

"You like it? I'm trying it out."

"I think if you say it again, I'm going to chase you into the shower and we're not getting out of here in time for trivia night."

"Can't have that."

"Our crown must be defended at all costs."

"Thank you, Sander."

"I don't want you to thank me. I want you to look in the mirror and realize..." He shook his head, not sure what to say exactly. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"I know. I just... worry."

"About what?"

"About pregnancy. About what happens afterward. If you'll still want me or not." Before he could speak, she shook her head. "I know. In my head, I know. But this is the sort of crazy you married, babe."

"Then I'm looking forward to proving it to you. Because I plan on spending a lot of time adoring those big ol' honking Super Soaker mom boobs up close and personal after the baby comes."

She kissed his cheek for that.

* * * * *

Collective groans greeted them as they entered April Rain, and Sander arched his back and bellowed, "Yea, verily, your reigning champs are here, bow, bow before us."

April Rain was a popular locals' bar far enough away from the college to not be overwhelmed by students, something neither Sander nor Hazel generally wanted in their off-hours. That was why it was such a surprise that when they headed inside, almost immediately, a lovely young woman called, "Dr. Chapman and Dr. Chapman!"

The bar wasn't as crowded for trivia night as it usually was, on account of the snow and dropping temperatures, but it was still plenty packed, which made it hard to identify who was calling their name. But then Sander caught a young woman rising from a table where she'd been seated with four or five others, and he lit up.

"Ms. Butler!" he called. Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, "Tara Butler. You would have had her for algebra."

"Thank you," Hazel muttered back. "One of yours?"

"Yes. Just graduated this semester." Tara needed an extra semester to graduate. She had taken on a lot of classes her freshman and sophomore year trying to figure out what she wanted to major in or what career path to take, finally settling on English, her greatest strength.

"She's a tasty young thing."

Tara really was. Like his wife, his former student carried a little extra weight in all the right places, a voluptuous young woman with butter-blonde hair and a sweet, innocent face highlighted by her dark eyes and a smile that always seemed quizzical. In a lot of ways, she seemed the ditz, sometimes caught off-guard by the simplest things and often missing obvious subtext in her literature classes with him, but the truth was she had a raw, natural intelligence when it came to the written word, especially in her technical writing skills. He'd been on her thesis committee and was dutifully impressed with her work and her presentation, which had been Tara at her most assured.

She was dressed for a casual night out in a sweater that pulled double-duty, keeping her warm and emphasizing her big breasts nicely. Her distressed jeans called attention to her thick thighs, developed through years of playing volleyball, if he remembered correctly. The fur boots were cute and functional too.

With a smile warm enough to wick away the chill of the night, Tara approached them. Sander straightened, and Hazel noticed, smiling to herself. "It's good to see you," Tara said. "Is a hug too inappropriate from a former student?"

"Nonsense," Hazel said. "It's good to see you too, Ms. Butler."

They hugged, and Sander knew the next time he took his wife, the image of the two busty beautiful women pressed together was going to be a major player in his fantasies. Much as he might like to try not to think of his gorgeous students that way, he discovered near the start of his career denying himself their appeal only led to more desire. Best to acknowledge it and move on, as long as they were well above the age of eighteen. In Tara's case, she was twenty-two or twenty-three, so he felt only the barest twinge of guilt.

"I wasn't sure if you'd remember me," Tara said to Hazel, still with a hand on her arm. "I was in your basic algebra class."

"Ah, yes, I knew I had you from one of my one-hundred-levels."

Tara's attention turned to Sander, her eyes sparkling. "Dr. Chapman."

They hugged, and he was very careful to keep it as distant as possible. A lot of eyes were on them, though probably more because the crowd had their knives sharpened for the reigning trivia champs than the young woman they were embracing.

"Please, Sander and Hazel now that you've graduated. Otherwise the doctor, doctor routine would get confusing fast."

"And there are only so many times we can stand having Spies Like Us quoted to our faces," Hazel added.

"Sorry, Spies Like Us?" Tara asked.

"Old movie. Fun one, but there's a bit... ah, it doesn't matter," Sander said. "Amazing coincidence, bumping into you here. Are you here for the trivia?"

"Yes!" Tara said. She turned and looked at her table. "Those are my coworkers over there. We're just trying to come up with a name now. What are yours?"

"Doctors Doom," Hazel said.

"Oooh, that's so good."

"I wanted to go with the Love Doctors, but Hazel had the better idea," Sander said.

A voice boomed over the speakers. "Okay, folks, we're going to get it started in about five minutes, so get your team signup sheets to me now."

"Care to join us?" Hazel asked.

"Oh, honey, she's got her own group of friends," Sander said.

"They're really not," Tara said. "I'm new at the bank and I think they invited me just to be polite. Besides, I heard you when you came in. The winning team?"

"The winningest," Sander said.

"I should warn you I don't think I'm going to be great at this sort of thing," Tara said.

"Don't worry about it. We're just here to have fun," Sander said.

"And win. But mostly fun," Hazel said.

"Okay! Give me just a second to talk to them and I'll join you."

"Hon, I'll get drinks if you sign us in. What are you drinking?" Hazel asked Tara.

"Just a vodka cranberry. It's so basic but I don't really drink a lot and don't know what's good." Then it struck Tara. "Oh! You don't have to. I can buy my own."

"Nonsense. We're happy to," Hazel said.

"Well, thank you," Tara said. "Okay, back in a second."

Tara headed back for her table while Hazel and Sander made their way to the bar and the trivia master. Before they split apart, Hazel said cheerfully, "You can relax now."

"What?"

"You stood about an inch taller when she joined us. And I don't think I've seen you suck in your gut since our wedding."

He glanced at her sharply, but caught her amused smile and twinkling eyes and shook his head. "She is beautiful," he admitted. "Get me something festive?"

"Roger."

He filled out the team trivia sheet and accepted the answer sheet in return. The victors -- who really were usually them -- were always afforded a table up front the following week, mostly so the trivia master and his crew could keep an eye on them for any sign of cheating. They never needed to. Hazel was a mathematics professor and a science nerd to boot, while Sander's voracious appetite for books in all genres, including a lot of nonfiction, kept them readily supplied with knowledge when it came to culture and arts, which came up frequently.

"Ooh, we have a third joining the Doctors Doom this week, folks," the emcee said. Raucous boos broke out, and Tara, on the way to the table with her coat over one arm, blew the room a raspberry, getting her some laughs and a call from one guy, "You can join us anytime!" Sander felt a bizarre twinge of irritation at that, as though Tara was his territory.

She slid into a waiting chair and smiled at him. "Thanks. I hope I don't screw this up too badly for you two."

"You won't. The more people on our team, the bigger our collective knowledge is." A harmless white lie. Although teams could be comprised of up to eight people, they always found their best rhythm when it was just the two of them. There was less room for arguing, and they trusted each other's instincts on educated guesses. But a third or fourth was always a welcome change if just to make things more interesting, and Tara was definitely interesting.

"You say that, but..."

He chuckled. "Do you have a notepad and a pen?"

"Notepad? Pen?"

"Yeah. If you know the answer, don't tell us. Write it down so no one around us hears."

"Oh! I've got my phone. I can write you a text message."

But Sander was already shaking his head. "No phones. In fact, because we're so good-"

"Hand 'em over, Doc," a voice said cheerfully. One of the self-proclaimed trivia bouncers stood there with a plastic bag in hand. Sander handed over his phone, as did Tara after a moment.

"We get them back, right?"

"Nope. They're gone forever," Sander said. It was his turn for a raspberry.

The bouncer gestured towards a small table right next to the trivia master. "They'll be right up there. You can grab them after the game."

Hazel joined them, setting a cocktail glass in front of Sander, a vodka cranberry in front of Tara, and a simple canned seltzer in front of herself. Then she dug in her purse and pulled out her phone to drop into the waiting bag, which the bouncer marked with DD.

Gesturing towards Sander's drink, Hazel said, "Minnie called that a Naughty or Nice. Gin, wine, something fizzy. I wasn't paying much attention."

He tasted it and nodded approvingly. "That's great. Thanks, baby. Do you have an extra notepad for Tara?"

"Oh sure," Hazel said. To their guest, "I bring four or five extras in case anyone needs them."

She dug out a pocket-sized notepad and a pen and handed them over, their fingers brushing. Tara blushed, and Sander noticed. That was interesting, but he assumed it was just because the young woman was nervous hanging out with her two former professors.

"Would you like to try a sip of his cocktail?" Hazel asked.

"Oh! Would that be too weird?"

Sander slid the drink over. "No, not at all. Relax. There are no tests to pass here."

"Sorry, I'm just... well, crazy nervous. You know. My favorite professor and his wife. Not that... you know, you weren't a great professor too, Dr. Chapman... Hazel, I just... oh wow, I am really embarrassing myself."

Hazel reached out and stroked the back of Tara's hand. "It's okay, honey. I get it. I happen to be very fond of him too. My only question is, are you driving tonight?"

"Oh! No. I got a ride with one of my coworkers. Although she's already had two glasses of wine so I think I'll come up with a lie and take an Uber home."

"We'll be happy to give you a ride," Hazel said. "I can't drink."

"Oh, why is that?"

"I'm pregnant."

The look of pure joy on Tara's face was like the sun coming up over the horizon. Sander had never seen her smile so beautifully, and it warmed his heart. "Ohhh! Congratulations! You're going to be such good parents, I just..." She sniffed and waved a hand at her face. "I'm going to cry, damn it!"

Hazel laughed and squeezed her arm. Sander hadn't noticed she'd kept her hand where it was. His wife caught where his gaze was focused and gave an almost imperceptible smirk. She knew what she was doing to him.