The Younger Woman by KingKongDong99

The Younger Woman

A 750-Word, Lesbian Zone Quicky

Mille Dynamite

NOTE:This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The Younger Woman

This story was written for the 2025 Literotica 750 Word Challenge.

Below this line are exactly 750 words.

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The club sits off campus. Nightly, it fills with students, most looking to avoid thinking about their courses. It's Saturday night, I'm bored, a professor, looking to break a few of the rules governing me and my actions.

I'm a predator in silk stalking and red heels who does young, nubile women. After I walk in and scan the student body, I spot her. Freshman, blonde, white, slow-witted, and already struggling in my literature class. Doesn't understand the difference between Hemingway and Shakespeare.

Blessed with bright, blue, puppy dog eyes, pointy apple-sized tits, and a beautiful, tiny ass. If she's five feet tall in her spiked heels, it'd be a miracle. Anna Faris's face, but cuter and smaller. The coy type of flirtatiousness that turns me on. Especially so, since she seems to only flirt with girls.

This drives the boys wild, so it might be a ploy. Tell you what, I'm going to find out. I strut toward her, more than a foot taller, much curvier, a cat approaching an unsuspecting mouse. She seems, and there's panic in her eyes.

Eyes darting to me, away, to the mirror behind the bar, back to me. The mouse's senses scream danger. It's flight or fight time. The poor, lovely creature does neither. Sitting prim and proper in a skin-tight, peach colored microdress, legs crossed, nursing a fruity concoction, she shivers and waits for the cat to pounce.

"Hello, Missy, shouldn't you be studying?"

"It's Friday night, Ms. Hollaway," she says, her defensive shields snap on.

Pulling a stool indecently close, I set my six feet two inches on the seat, and lean toward her. Putting one of my ebony hands on her porcelain white knee, the other on the softness of her other leg's thigh. Pushing her legs apart, I whisper in her ear as my right hand finds her uncovered, hairless pussy.

"Nice girls wear panties. Glad you don't."

Her head hangs down, her eyes turn up toward mine, the blue of them threatening to swallow me whole.

"I'm a nice girl," she says.

"No, you're a sweet girl, there's a difference." Inserting one finger into her holy of holies, while my thumb circles her nub, coaxing from its hood. Adding a second finger, it's so tight, but wetness greets me.

"I've never done nuttin with girls," she says.

Finding her intact, I say, "Or boys from the feel of you."

Never breaking eye contact, Missy raised her tiny hand, curled her fingers, and jerked the air for a moment:

"Just hand jobs. One boy tried to tongue me, down there, but couldn't do it. Said he was afraid of it. Like I had teeth there."

I increased the speed, her breath caught in her throat, eyes glazing over, and a soft, pliant sigh escaped her lips. A prayer of thanks, a plea for more, a submissive surrender.

"Call the bartender over and order me a drink."

"Yes... Ma'am..." she said between heavy sighs, her small, perfect, heaving tits calling to me. A gush rushed over my fingers, and my free hand went to her hips and squeezed her.

"Hey, Joann, would you bring Professor Hollaway anything she wants?"

In quick order, Joann lined up four shot glasses and poured an ounce of ice-cold vodka into each.

"On the house, Prof."

"You do know, Joann, she's underage."

"The girl has a great ID, Ma'am."

With my free hand, I shoo her away, pick up a glass, and belt down the liquor. Pointing at the next glass, I snap my fingers and point at her lips. Missy picks up the glass and downs it, coughing and hacking afterward.

Leaning closer, locking my lips to hers. We kiss. My tongue invades Missy's mouth, coaxing a battle with Missy's own. Her breathing quickens, her body shivers. Moisture thickens around my fingers, a tremor runs through the tight channel. Her nipples, already hard, push like bullets through the material of her tiny, sexy dress.

Her hands find my breasts. Ignoring those around us, she squeezes and fondles me. The orgasm continues unabated, unrestrained. We move almost as one, me fucking her tight twat with two fingers, thumbing her clit, and her feeling my massive breasts.

"I've never ever before," she says.

"I have," I say into her mouth. With my hand clutching her hair, I pull her to me again, and we kiss. Not sweet, nasty, possessing each other's mouths, taking each breath and giving it back to the other.

I own the cunt.

The Younger Woman

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