The Mature Woman from the Chat Ended Up Being My Professor

I have to begin by confessing that almost all of this really happened, although I’m keeping the names, the cities, and a few details to myself—details that are better left between the person who lived through it and me. I’m telling the rest exactly as I remember it, which is unbelievable enough without embellishing it.

It all started just after I turned nineteen. Fair skin, dark hair, five foot nine, an ordinary body belonging to a guy who played football on weekends and not much else. I wasn’t the most diligent student at school; I was more interested in my friends and spending afternoons shut up in my room with my laptop, jumping from one chat room to another when I should have been studying.

Back then I was growing a beard that made me look older, and it opened doors that weren’t meant to be available to someone my age. One afternoon, out of absolute boredom, I wandered into a chat room for people over forty, half as a joke. I wasn’t expecting anything. I started chatting with several women on the list, and most of them didn’t even reply, until one answered me with a boldness that disarmed me. She called herself Renata.

I was laughing with her from the very first message. She had a lively, ironic way of writing, without the tediousness I usually found in those places. Things grew tense when she asked my age and what I did.

—Thirty-eight —I lied without batting an eyelid—. I work for a materials distributor.

—Forty-six —she replied—. I’m a civil servant.

I asked for her Messenger contact and she said no, that I was too young for her. If she’d known the truth, she would have stopped talking to me immediately. But I didn’t give up. I kept insisting for days until she gave in, and from then on we started talking for hours and hours. We exchanged photos. The beard did its job, and she never suspected—or, if she did, she preferred to keep quiet about it.

Renata was a bottle blonde, with a few extra pounds distributed exactly where they belonged, and a mouth that was the first thing I looked at in every photo. A large mouth, with full lips, that looked made for sucking cock, for swallowing cum without taking her eyes off you. She always dressed simply, in jeans and a blouse, but there was something in her gaze that came out of the screen and grabbed you by the throat.

One Saturday afternoon she suggested we see each other on camera. I was terrified, and at the same time my cock was already half-hard against my trousers. I agreed, and a second later the call was ringing.

—But you’re such a young thing —she said as soon as she saw me, in a voice so honeyed it didn’t sound like a reproach—. You lied to me about your age, you little rascal.

—Twenty-three —I improvised, lowering the number again, though without much conviction this time.

She laughed and told me she had a son more or less the age I’d invented for myself. She was separated. In time I learned to recognize her pattern: she only appeared online when she was home alone, on the weekends when the boy stayed with his father.

***

What we had existed entirely inside a screen, and yet it was the most intense thing happening to me all week. I couldn’t hide what seeing her did to me. She noticed, of course she noticed, and she loved playing with it.

—Ooh, look how red you’ve gone —she would say—. Are you hot or something?

—Why are you looking at me like that? —and she would slowly bite her lower lip, knowing perfectly well what she was doing to me.

The conversations heated up on their own. One night, alone at home, she blew air down her cleavage and let out a long sigh.

—It would do me so much good if you were here giving me a massage, Adrián.

—Just a massage? —I replied, playing the cheeky one.

—Stand up, come on. I want to see you properly.

I was wearing only my underwear, and my hard cock showed through the fabric like a lump that couldn’t be hidden. I stood up, and it must have shown even more clearly on camera than I thought, because she opened her eyes wide and brought two fingers to her mouth, sucking them slowly.

—Is all that really yours? —she wrote after a silence—. Take it out, young man. I want to see all of it.

I pulled my underwear down to my knees and my cock sprang upward, hard, the tip already glistening with fluid. I showed it to her in profile, gripped it at the base, and shook it once so she could see its weight properly. Renata let out a gasp that came through the speaker crystal clear.

—Good God… —she murmured—. What a cock you’ve got, you bastard. I’m going to show you something, and if you even think of recording me, I’ll kill you.

She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, one button every two seconds, until she had opened it completely. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her heavy white breasts fell free, their large dark nipples already stiff and erect. She grabbed them with both hands and lifted them toward the camera, squeezing the nipples between her thumb and forefinger until she let out a small moan.

—Wank it for me, go on. I want to watch you do it while you look at my tits.

I sat in the chair with the camera aimed from my chest downward and began to masturbate slowly, sliding my fist up and down the full length, squeezing the tip every time I reached the top. She licked her lips without taking her eyes off the screen.

—Faster. That’s it. Imagine it’s my pussy, my tight almost-fifty-year-old pussy swallowing that young cock of yours.

The camera showed her from the waist up, but from the movement of her right arm I knew perfectly well what her other hand was doing beneath her jeans. Then she couldn’t stand it any longer and pulled them down too, spread her legs in front of the camera, and showed me her pussy, shaved in strips and already soaking wet, with two fingers buried to the knuckles.

—Do you see what you do to me, young man? Look at how I’m dripping. This is all your fault.

She pulled her fingers, shiny with juices, out of her pussy and brought them to her mouth, sucking them one by one while she looked at me through half-closed eyes. I came too soon; I felt the knot rising through my groin and couldn’t warn her. The jet shot out, white and thick, splashing over my knuckles and stomach.

—Show me —she panted—. Show me what you’ve pulled out of yourself for me.

I brought my hand, covered in semen, close to the camera. She pushed three fingers into her pussy while watching my cum on the screen, and a few seconds later she folded forward with a long, hoarse moan, her legs trembling.

What I remember most isn’t the ending, but the sentence she left me with when we said goodbye:

—I loved your face at that exact moment. You drive me crazy, young man. And one day I want that cock inside me all the way.

For almost two years we repeated it every two or three weeks, always when she was alone, always when her son was away. In time we added the telephone to the camera; we called each other and spoke shamelessly about things I hadn’t dared tell anyone: how I would suck her until she was deep in my throat, how I would ride her and let her set the pace, how she would spread her ass so I could fill it with milk. And then, just as she had appeared, she disappeared. She stopped logging on and stopped answering my messages. I assumed she’d grown tired of it or found someone else. I was left with the strange feeling of missing someone I had never actually touched.

***

Five years passed. I finished my degree in Audiovisual Communication, got a girlfriend, got dumped, and found myself without much idea what to do with my life. Since I couldn’t find work in my field, I decided to enroll in a master’s program in event production in another city. A fresh start, meeting people, clearing my head. I arrived on the first day with little enthusiasm and left feeling I’d made the right choice: the people were my kind of people, and the subjects genuinely interested me.

On the third day we had the marketing and production class, the one everyone dreaded. The veterans had warned me that the professor was extremely tough, serious, and more demanding than almost anyone. We entered the classroom with that mixture of fear and curiosity, and she still hadn’t arrived.

We waited five minutes until a woman of about sixty appeared, wearing a long coat and a huge scarf that she removed as she wished us good morning. I was taking my notebook out of my bag. I looked up toward the blackboard, and my blood ran cold.

It was Renata.

Or whatever her real name was, because that certainly wasn’t it. The same mouth, the same way of moving, five more years on her and many more secrets than she had told me. I hid behind the classmate in front of me while my mind raced. She’d told me she was a civil servant; I’d imagined an office, not a classroom. Renata, she called herself; the sign on the door displayed a completely different name. And her age… there was no question that she was considerably older than she had confessed back then.

—You can call me Reni —she said, letting her gaze travel around the room—. I’ll warn you right now: this subject is demanding and requires a lot of work at home. But first, I want you to introduce yourselves. Name, age, and what you’d like to do within Audiovisual Communication.

They started at the other end. Each introduction brought laughter, exaggerated promises, and résumés invented on the spot. I was last, and there was no way out. I counted the seconds. When my turn came, I stood up, and she looked me in the face for the first time.

She went white. Her smile vanished instantly, and she gripped the edge of the desk as if the floor were moving. She recognized me at once; I had no doubt. I drew strength from wherever I could.

—I’m Adrián, I’m twenty-four, and I’d like to work in music, producing concerts and festivals.

—Very good, Adrián —she replied, pulling herself together with an effort only I knew how to read—. Is there anyone else? No. Then sit down. Welcome.

The rest of the class was a delicious torture. She avoided my gaze, while I sought it out; whenever our eyes finally met, we both looked away at the same time. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

***

When class ended, I stayed behind, packing my things more slowly than necessary. So did she, and we both knew it. When the classroom emptied, she approached with a smile that couldn’t decide whether it was frightened or amused.

—Hello, Adrián. What a coincidence, huh? —she said quietly—. In person you look even younger. In fact, you look exactly your age.

—Hello, Renata —I replied, and we both laughed out of sheer reflex—. I suppose neither of us told the whole truth.

Her jaw tightened for a moment.

—I have a partner. And a position I worked very hard for. I don’t want anyone to know anything about this, understood? I’m asking you to keep things cordial and normal.

—Relax —I told her—. No one will hear about it from me.

That week we had another class and behaved like two perfect strangers, cold and correct. I left among the first so I wouldn’t prolong the awkwardness. Until Saturday arrived.

I was with my friends in a bar; it must have been half past one in the morning when my phone vibrated. A number I didn’t have saved.

“Adrián, I don’t know if this is really you. I had your number from years ago. It’s me, your professor. Write when you can; I need to talk to you.”

I went outside and wrote to her. She asked if she could call me, and a few seconds later her voice came through the receiver with a tremor I had never heard before.

—You’ll think I’m crazy for writing to you at this hour —she said—. But I couldn’t sleep. Are you very busy?

—I was with some friends, but I was just heading home.

—This may sound strange… would you like to come over for one last drink? I’d like us to talk about all this calmly.

It made no sense, and yet I took a taxi. Fifteen minutes later I was at her building. I buzzed, and she let me in without asking who it was. I went up to her floor, found the door ajar, and saw her hand reaching out to wave me inside.

***

She closed the door with her foot and, before I could say a word, kissed me. A deep kiss, without hesitation, her tongue thrusting straight into my mouth, seeking mine and tangling with it. She grabbed the back of my neck with one hand and squeezed my cock through my jeans with the other, feeling it harden in a second. I hadn’t expected it, and my knees buckled. She kissed in a way you don’t learn when you’re young.

She pulled away for a second, took my face between both hands, and looked at me with an intensity that left me breathless.

—You’re so young… and so fucking hot —she murmured—. I’ve been thinking about this cock for five years. Five years, Adrián.

She took me to the sofa, shoved me down, and knelt in front of me with a calmness that contrasted with everything else. She slowly unbuckled my belt, pulled my jeans and underwear down to my ankles, and my cock sprang out hard and stiff, the tip already glistening. She stared at it for several seconds as if it were something she had waited her whole life for.

—Even bigger in person… you son of a bitch —she whispered to herself.

She gripped it at the base with her right hand, stuck out her tongue, and licked from my balls to the tip in one slow sweep, pressing her broad tongue against the vein. I closed my eyes and let out a sharp breath. She did it twice more, unhurriedly, savoring me as though she were tasting something expensive. Then she opened that big mouth, those full lips I had imagined for years, and swallowed me whole in a single thrust, taking me all the way to the back of her throat.

—Fuck… —escaped me.

She began sucking me at a pace unlike anything I had experienced before. She rose to the tip, paused to circle my glans with her tongue, and descended again until my cock was buried in her throat, controlled gags making threads of saliva spill from the corners of her mouth. With her free hand she stroked my balls, held them gently, and rolled them between her fingers.

—Look at me —she ordered, pulling me out for a second—. I want you to watch me eat you.

I lowered my head and found her eyes fixed on mine from below, half my cock inside her mouth, a strand of saliva and drool sticking my stomach to her chin. She pulled me out, rubbed me all over her face—her cheeks, her forehead—smearing herself with my fluid, and put me back in her throat. I had to grip the back of the sofa and breathe deeply to keep from coming right there.

—Stop —I panted—, stop or I’ll come now.

She pulled my cock out of her mouth with a wet sound, licked her lips, and smiled.

—Now —she said, standing up and tugging my hand toward the bedroom— you’re going to do everything you promised me on camera.

In the bedroom she undressed in front of me without the slightest shame. Five years older, but the body I had seen so many times on the screen was still unchanged: large, heavy breasts, a soft belly, wide hips, and the pussy shaved in strips, just as she had shown it to me so many times. She lay on her back, spread her legs, and opened her pussy with two fingers.

—Come here. Eat me. I’ve spent years imagining that tongue.

I knelt between her legs and lowered my head. I ran my tongue all along her slit from bottom to top, slowly, savoring for the first time the taste I had imagined so often. She was soaked, much wetter than I had thought possible. I parted her lips with my thumbs and buried my tongue in her clitoris, sucking and licking in circles while she clutched the sheets and arched her back.

—There, there, keep going… —she panted—. Put it in me, put it in me with your tongue.

I pushed my tongue as far inside as I could and stroked her clitoris with my thumb at the same time. She writhed beneath me, squeezed my head between her thighs, and pulled my hair. I inserted two fingers and searched for the spot above while continuing to suck her clitoris without stopping. After a few minutes she began trembling all over, dug her heels into my back, and came with a hoarse cry, thrusting her hips against my face.

—Fuck me now —she begged when she could speak—. Put it in me now, Adrián. I can’t take any more.

I climbed on top, gripped my cock, and placed it at her entrance. She guided me with her hips until the tip slipped into place. I pushed slowly and felt her open, felt her swallow me inch by inch, squeezing me with hot, soaking walls.

—Aaah, fuck, yes… all of it, give me all of it.

I drove into her in one thrust, burying myself to the balls, and a cry escaped her. I stayed still for a few seconds, feeling her pussy pulse around me. Then I began fucking her, slowly at first, then faster and faster, bracing myself on my arms so I could watch her tits bounce with every thrust.

—That’s it, that’s it, harder —she begged—. Break my pussy, young man, break it.

I grabbed her hips and pounded into her with all my strength. She watched my face, bit her lips, grabbed her breasts, and pinched her nipples. I turned her over and put her on all fours. I gripped her hair with one hand and squeezed her ass with the other as I pushed into her from behind again, in a single thrust.

—Fuck me like you did on camera —she asked, looking over her shoulder—. Fuck me like you promised.

I pounded her in that position until she began pushing her hips back herself, taking me deeper. The dry smacks of our colliding skin filled the room. I slapped her ass, leaving a mark. I slapped her again. She panted, moaned, and begged for more.

—I’m going to come again… ah… don’t stop.

She came with her face buried in the pillow, clenching her pussy around my cock in spasms that nearly made me finish too. I pulled out in time, rolled her onto her back, and lifted her legs onto my shoulders. I penetrated her again, folding her almost in half, my face pressed against hers.

—Come inside me —she whispered in my ear—. Inside. Don’t make me wait. Fill me.

I increased the pace until I felt the knot rising from my balls. I tensed, clenched my teeth, and came inside her in hard, slow thrusts, emptying myself to the last drop. She wrapped her legs around me, squeezing my ass with her heels so I wouldn’t pull out, panting in my ear as she felt me fill her.

When I finally let myself fall beside her, she brought two fingers to her pussy, dipped them into my semen as it began to run out of her, and sucked them with her eyes closed. Slowly, shamelessly, with that strange intimacy shared by two people who knew each other intimately without ever having touched. That night, after a while in silence, she made me hard again with her mouth and we did it once more, this time with her on top, setting the pace, leaning back so my thumb touched her clitoris as she rode me. We fulfilled every outstanding promise and several that neither of us had ever gotten around to making.

When we finally lay still, sweaty and staring at the ceiling, that was when we really began to talk.

She told me she had been with a professor from another university for a couple of years, a man nearing sixty-five with whom everything was fine except in the one respect that night had proved mattered to her. She confessed that ever since recognizing me in class she hadn’t stopped thinking about me, and that having me as her student, almost the same age as her son, aroused her in a way that both embarrassed and excited her.

—What turns me on most —she whispered in my ear, her hand playing with my softening cock again— isn’t just that you’re young. It’s that you’re sitting there in my class, pretending you don’t know me while I remember that you’re coming inside me.

I apologized for all the lies in those chats, for the years I had taken off my age, for the beard and the invented distributor. She laughed and told me we were even, that she had lied too, and that from then on she intended to be honest, at least with me.

***

The master’s program lasted as long as it lasted, and between difficult subjects and impossible assignments, all sorts of things happened. We took advantage of the gaps when the faculty building was half-empty: one afternoon I sucked her for hours in her office with the door locked, kneeling beneath her desk while she gripped the edge to keep from screaming. Another time she rode me in her car in the faculty parking lot, the windows fogged, moving slowly so we wouldn’t make noise and coming while biting my shoulder. On the occasional weekends when her partner traveled, she reserved the whole time for me and wrung me dry with two or three fucks a night, insatiable. There was something dangerously playful about passing each other in the corridor with blank expressions, knowing that the night before I had left her full of semen, and she loved it just as much as I did.

I suspect her partner eventually realized there was someone else, although no reproach ever reached me. When the course ended, I met the woman who is now my wife, and my life fell into place all at once. I lost track of that woman of a thousand names again, this time forever.

Every so often, for no particular reason, I think of her. Of her mouth swallowing my cock to the throat, of her voice through the receiver at half past one in the morning asking me to take it out, of that first look in the classroom when her face went cold. And I smile. Because some coincidences seem written in advance, and the world, as they say, is a very small place.