History Between Us

Beverley was greatly impressed with the quality of the 2019 History Symposium at the North Carolina University, especially since history faculties all over the country in the past couple of years had been having a hard time coping with quick staff turnovers. Beverley knew this, because as the head professor of the faculty at the University of Pennsylvania, she was intimately acquainted with the boom-bust cycles in the academic hiring sphere. 

She clapped along with the audience as the last speaker took his leave, and another took the stage. 

“And now, we have Mr. Charles Miller, M.A., on the developments in Natural History and Anthropology in the last decade,” the emcee announced, before relinquishing the podium. 

Beverley’s eyes shot up, off her phone, and to the handsome young man that was taking the stage. 

Holy. Shit. 

Charles Miller. 


Beverley’s heart thumped in her chest. She had not expected to see Charles here. In fact, she had not expected to ever see Charles again.

Beverley’s relationship with Charles was… complicated. They met almost eleven years ago. Beverley, a freshly minted professor at Penn, was thirty-two at the time. She was tipped to be a ‘rising star’ – a prediction she was pleased to now, humbly, note had been satisfactorily fulfilled – being one of the youngest women to be made professor at the University in over thirty years. 

That was when Beverley met Charles – a baby-faced nineteen-year-old freshman taking her introductory course ‘Approaching History: Method & Evaluation’. Charles was an eager learner – hardworking and conscientious – but also very popular with his classmates, and quite the charmer with the ladies. Unmarried and still a relatively young woman at the time, Beverley knew she was getting too close to Charles even as it was happening. It began with after-class consultations that lasted longer with him than they did with any other student. Then, they became after-hours consultations in her office. And then, they turned into texts, dinners… and ‘visits’ to Beverley’s home, late at night. 

At the time, Beverley would have loved to have been an item with Charles. He had a maturity past his years, a genuine interest in the subject she was teaching, and was a hunk of a man, even at nineteen. All that, and he was superb in bed. Beverley would never forget the nights of endless lovemaking they shared – he could go for hours, and somehow, she could too. He took, he gave… he did everything that could possibly be required of him, and more. 

Still, no matter how well Charles could eat her out, or how amazingly he could dick her for over an hour without cumming, Beverley was not ready to sacrifice her professional career over a highly sexually charged relationship with a student. Sleeping with a student at the University was bad enough to get her fired, but sleeping with a student who was in her class at the time could get her not only in trouble with the University, but also with the law. Around four months after their tryst started, Beverley broke her relationship with Charles off, much to her best student’s dismay. The look on his face when it happened tore Beverley apart for weeks, but she knew that if she wanted her academic career to be on solid ground, she had to cut things off between them permanently, and that was what she did.

Still, she never forgot her time with him. They were a whirlwind four months – when she was in them, they felt so short, but when they ended, and she looked back on her time with him, it felt like a lifetime. 

Now, eleven years later, she was married to another gorgeously handsome man, had two children, and lived a relatively stable, unadventurous life. Still, Daniel wasn’t the cliched antithesis of Charles – he was handsome, kept in good shape, and had a great sense of humor. He was a great kisser, and a consistently satisfying lover. While he did not have the young-blooded sexual prowess of Charles, he was definitely one of Beverley’s best lays, and as shallow as it might sound, she was glad she was tied down to a man who was not only well-endowed, but who also knew how to use his tool effectively. 

Still, her mind wandered. She wondered what things would have been like if she’d kept with Charles. Maybe they would have been able to keep their affair a secret, and they would’ve lasted the four years it would have taken for him to complete his degree. Maybe they would have gotten married. Or, maybe he would have left her for someone his own age. Or maybe she would’ve been fired and would not have become the woman she was today. Beverley, a seasoned academic in the field of history, did not have to be told about the futility of conjecturing ‘what-ifs’ and the results of alternate timelines. Even then, it didn’t stop her from the occasional wistful thought. 

Her contemplations brought her back to the nights they shared together. Despite making professor, she was prudent with her finances and lived in a small apartment near school. Not wanting to risk being seen at his teacher’s house, Charles would often come late in the night, and leave early in the morning. The fact that they were hiding something, of course, made things infinitely more exciting between them. Within seconds of him stepping through her door, they would be tangled in one another’s arms, kissing passionately, tearing their clothes off one another before they fell into bed together and made raw, heated love to one another over, and over again. When they were done, they would lie in bed, under the covers, talking about whatever they fancied. They shared many, many interests – they both loved wine, they listened the same kinds of music, and Charles had as intelligent views on modern history writers’ works as his professor did. They ‘vibed’, not just physically, but mentally, and perhaps even spiritually. 

It took some willpower, but Beverley snapped herself out of her pleasant stupor and refocused on the present. She returned to reality just in time to hear Charles’ closing remarks.

“I’d like to thank some very special people who got me to where I am today,” he began, looking into the crowd, “My lovely parents, who’ve kept me afloat all these years, and Professor Beverley Smith, who I owe my love of history to. Thank you.”

Beverley’s cheeks reddened. 

Does he know I’m here?


“Professor Smith! It’s been so long,” Charles called out, waving at Beverley from a distance. 

The symposium’s organized talks were over, and it was the portion of the evening where the academics mingled over drinks and cocktail snacks. Depending on the composition of the attending professors, this part of the event could range from being a complete snooze to being the highlight of the symposium. As Charles approached her, tonight, Beverley figured, looked like it would lean more toward the latter than the former. 

“Charles, it’s been an eternity,” Beverley said, the two sharing a long, warm hug, “And call me Beverley, please.”

“Beverley, sure,” Charles smiled, “Sounds strange, honestly. I always preferred professor.”

That sly devil. 

Beverley wasn’t absolutely positive, but she was quite sure that Charles was making a cheeky reference to how he loved calling her ‘professor’, especially when he was in bed with her. The dynamics of those encounters were especially… titillating. Charles was just as good at being the dominant one as he was relinquishing control, and ‘punishing’ her ‘delinquent student’ was a sexual scenario Charles and Beverley never seemed to be able to wear out in their time together. 

Beverley blushed.

“So, how’ve you been?” Beverley asked, sipping on her glass of wine. 

“I finished my master’s a couple of years ago, then moved to DC and did some work with a research institute there,” he said, shrugging, “I’m thinking of heading back to Penn in six or seven months and doing my PhD, actually.”

Beverley’s eyes widened. 

“Back at Penn? Wow,” she replied, as casually as she could.

The tremor in her voice, however, may have given away her surprise. 

“I… I was actually thinking about asking for you as my supervising professor,” Charles said, his eyes darting to the ground momentarily, “We could talk about it over dinner, maybe?”

Beverley laughed in a mixture of amusement and nervousness. Then, she held her right hand up, and flashed her wedding ring at Charles. 

“Dinner… might not be a great idea,” Beverley chuckled.

“Oh my god,” Charles exclaimed, seeing the ring, “Congratulations! That’s amazing. How long’ve you been married?”

“Four years, almost,” Beverley smiled, “Two kids as well.”

“Wow, I am really happy for you, Prof-uh, Beverley,” Charles said, placing his hand on her shoulder, “I really am.”

They shared a moment of silence, and Charles’ warm hand lingered on Beverley’s shoulder. Then, he gave her a gentle squeeze, and let go. 

“I should, uh… probably get going,” Charles said, “Got to schmooze up to a couple of other bigwigs like yourself.”

Beverley laughed, and nodded.

“You can, uhm… still drop me an e-mail about supervision. I’ll have a look and see if it fits my workload for the next work year,” she said, just before Charles turned away.


Why did I say that?

“Oh, thank you, I really appreciate that,” Charles smiled, surprised. “In that case… here’s my number,” he said, handing her his business card, “You can call me and we can talk about it once you’ve figure your schedule out.”


“So, how was the symposium honey?” Daniel asked, taking his wife’s bags as she stepped through the door. 

“It was… interesting,” Beverley said, pausing and wondering if she should continue the thought. “I met someone,” she finished. 

“Ah, you’re finally leaving me then,” Daniel chuckled, “Dibs on the TV. I just bought that.”

“Hah,” Beverley said, wryly, “It was an old ex, actually. Did I ever tell you about Charles?”

“That student you had an affair with?” Daniel asked, an eyebrow raised.

“It wasn’t an affair, I wasn’t seeing anyone else at the time,” Beverley said, rolling her eyes. 

“You were cheating on Penn,” Daniel winked, “That’s an affair in my book.”

“Okay, yes, that kid,” Beverley said, rushing to get to the point, “He was at the symposium. That was the first time I’d seen him in years. It’s been almost nine years since he left Penn… eleven since we broke things off. It was pretty trippy, if I’m being honest.”

“Uh huh,” Daniel said, sidling up to his wife, “So, he still got the hots for you?”

“Well, he asked me out to dinner…” Beverley sighed, “I told him no. He’s coming back to Penn to do his PhD, apparently. Wants me to be his mentor.”

“Damn, eleven years and you’ve still got him wrapped around your thumb, eh?” Daniel laughed, massaging his wife’s shoulders, and planting a warm kiss on her cheek. “I appreciate you telling me about all this,” he reassured her, “Don’t blame you for being a little bit woozy after seeing your ex-boy-toy.”

Beverley turned around and smacked her husband playfully on the chest, giggling. If there was one thing she loved about Daniel, it was his self-confidence. Hardly the jealous type, he wasn’t easily threatened by the other men in Beverley’s life – that alone being a supremely attractive trait of his. 

“It wasn’t all physical with him,” Beverley sighed, “But that’s all in the past. Maybe I’ll find him another mentor.”

Daniel wrapped his hands around his wife’s waist, and pulled her in for a long, passionate kiss. 

“You know, it’s been a week since I last saw you… professor,” Daniel whispered, his hands running down to Beverley’s ass and squeezing at it in her professional yet shapely, fitting dark brown skirt. 

Beverley’s first instinct was to laugh, but the hot-blooded look in her husband’s eye turned her amusement to arousal. She too had missed his touch, and the on-and-off recollections she’d been having about Charles since she’d reconnected with him had roused her libido, which she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to satisfy.

Gripping her husband by the chin, she kissed him back, fervently. Their tongues danced with one another desperately, as the two kissed passionately, lips smacking. Daniel massaged his wife’s butt firmly through her skirt as her hands ran down his bag, gripping at his wide, muscular back.

Mmhmm, I’m glad you’re here – I’ve been wanting to talk to you about your unsatisfactory performance in class,” she said grinning cheekily, before gripping her husband by the collar of his shirt, and leading him up the stairs, to their room. 

“Did I do badly on my test, professor?” Daniel mock-pouted, just as Beverley pulled him into their room, and shut the door behind her.

“You didn’t do badly,” she started, nudging him down to his knees, “You did fucking terribly.”

She shimmied her skirt off her hips, and down to her ankles. Kicking it off to the side, she stood over her husband, with her legs spread, and gently ran her fingers over her cotton panties. 

“Is there any way I could… make it up to you, professor?” Daniel asked, his eyes wide and pleading, playing his role convincingly, much to his wife’s pleasure. 

“Maybe,” Beverley said, bring her hips up to her husband’s face and teasing him, grazing her sex against his face and lips. 

Her arousal was beginning to show, her panties becoming moist with her excitement. She pressed the crotch of her underwear up to her husband’s nose, and gyrated her hips slowly and sensually against his face. 

Daniel reached up to grip her hips, but Beverley swatted his hands away firmly. 

“Hands behind your fucking back,” she said fiercely, gripping his face again between her long, slender fingers. 

Then, she planted a kiss on his face, before running her tongue along the length of his lips. 

“You can start with my pussy,” she told him, pulling the crotch of her panties to the side and pressing her sex up to his face. “Redeem yourself tonight, and I’ll think about passing you,” she purred, before grabbing the back of Daniel’s head and burying his nose in her pussy. 

“Yes, professor,” came the muffled reply from Daniel as he gleefully opened his lips and took his wife’s sex into his mouth. 

Lapping at it with an open mouth, Daniel dutifully ate at Beverley’s pussy, himself equally aroused by his wife’s acerbically erotic roleplay. It seemed that seeing Charles again had unlocked Beverley’s hidden, kinkier side, but Daniel wasn’t complaining as long as he was on the receiving end of his wife’s sexual frustration. 

Groaning, Daniel inhaled the soft, sweet smell of Beverley’s wet sex as his tongue licked along her lips and dabbed cautiously against her clit. Noticing – from the impassioned sound of her whimpers – that Beverley enjoyed the way he flitted his tongue along the length of her slit at an upbeat pace, he did his best to keep that motion up for as long as he could before he ran out of breath. 

When Daniel pulled away to catch his breath, Beverley looked down and saw that her husband’s face was glistening with her sweet, sticky nectar. She couldn’t help but grin, before dabbing her finger on her husband’s lips and bringing it to her mouth. 

Mmh, tasty,” she commented, “I’d consider myself privileged to be in your place.”

Then, she pressed his face back up to her sex and began winding her hips against him, using his lips and tongue as tools for her pleasure. She humped herself against his face, ensuring that she covered the length of her slit with his tongue. While his tongue snaked against her cunt and nudged into the entrance of her pussy, Beverley reached down and diddled at her clit, knowing from experience that no matter how much direction she gave him, Daniel wasn’t the most adept at being able to find and properly pleasure it. 

As her fingers swirled in tandem with Daniel’s desperate, eager licking, Beverley began to feel her thighs tremble in anticipation of her orgasm. Moaning, she gripped at Daniel’s hair firmly, and began jerking his head back and forth against her pussy as she came all over his face. 

Moaning, Beverley’s knees buckled, and her thighs squeezed around her husband’s face as she came hard.

“Fuck… fuck, that was good,” she moaned, sliding off his face and dropping to her knees in front of her husband. 

She took her husband’s face in her hands and kissed him on the lips, tasting her juices and cum on him. The pair smiled and laughed, Daniel enjoying his wife’s post-orgasmic euphoria as much as she was. 

“Did you like that?” she asked him softly, their foreheads up against one another’s.

“I loved it,” Daniel grinned, his hair still ruffled from Beverley’s violent manipulations, “The thought of that Charles boy really gets you going, huh?”

“Oh stop it,” Beverley said dismissively, pressing her lips back to her husband and kissing him hungrily on the lips. “I only love you,” she told him between kisses, slowly snaking her left hand down to his crotch and groping at it. 

Her husband’s words lingered in her mind. She hated to admit it, but he was partially right. Just seconds ago, as she ground her pussy against her husband’s face with vigor and hunger, her thoughts kept returning to her trysts with Charles. The two had had a penchant for roleplay, and Charles relished playing the difficult, unruly student because of the way it invoked his professor’s darker, more dominant sexual personality. He embraced her sexual hunger with open arms, letting her use every inch of his toned, muscular body for her pleasure before she gave herself up to him to be fucked – their grand finish. 

It’s not that Daniel was inadequate, by any means. Charles just had something more, something she couldn’t really put her finger on. Perhaps it was just the age difference – it gave him an aura of robustness that Beverley could latch onto and draw on. Perhaps it was why this last, intense session of sex she’d just had with her husband was so similarly charged – because she’d spent a good portion of it thinking about Charles… his sexy, chiseled abs, his bulging biceps and his big, throbbing coc-

“Oooh, your grip’s getting a little tight there, Bev,” Daniel said, the strength of his wife’s clutch around his balls beginning to cause him pain. 

Beverley snapped back to reality, and saw how tightly wound her fingers were clasped around his balls. But, instead of releasing he grip, she looked up into his eyes. 

“You’ll call me professor,” she finished, “Show some fucking respect, young man.”

Daniel’s cheeks flushed, both aroused and anxious at the fact that his wife wasn’t ready to drop the act just yet. 

“Y-yes, professor,” he stammered, his cock twitching in her grasp, excited. 

Releasing her grip, she stood up, and brought her husband to his feet. Then, she unzipped his shorts and watched as his erect, pulsing cock bounced into view. 

Mmh, I can already see you passing this course, Daniel,” she said, smiling devilishly as she watched pre-cum ooze from the tip of his cock and drip onto the floor. 

Daniel’s cock twitched at the sound of his wife’s authoritative tone, calling him by name – she rarely called him by his full name, much preferring ‘Dan’ or just ‘babe’. The change, hence, was titillating in its own, belittling way. 

Wrapping her fingers around her husband’s cock, Beverley began to stroke it slowly, squeezing the head of his rod firmly each time she reached it, and watching as his warm, delectable pre-cum oozed out of it. Her eyes bore into his as she pulled him off, biting her bottom lip. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” she asked, breathing on his face, “Are you going to fuck your professor?”

“Yes, p-professor,” Daniel stammered, as his rod strained and pulsed in his wife’s hand, “I am.”

“Good,” she grinned, impishly. 

Unbuttoning her blouse, she shook it off and threw it on the floor. Then, she unhooked her brassiere and tossed in on top her blouse. Finally, she slipped her panties off her legs, and held them in her hand. She was also going to toss it in the pile of clothes next to the bed, but suddenly remembered a ritual she and Charles used to carry out. Smiling, she stepped up to her husband, and tapped his cheek.

“Open up,” she said. 

Daniel parted his lips, tentatively. Immediately, Beverley pressed her wet panties into her husband’s mouth, crotch-first. She held it there for what felt like an eternity to Daniel, before she pulled it out, and tossed it to the floor. 

“If I ever have to call you to my office again,” she said, running a finger down between her husband’s pecs, “I’ll have you hold those in your mouth for the whole time you’re with me.”

Now completely naked, she bent herself over on the bed, and wiggled her butt in her husband’s direction. 

“Fuck me,” she commanded. 

Daniel was happy to comply. Coming up behind her, he grabbed his girthy cock in his hand, and pressed its head up to her pussy. Too desperate with desire to indulge in teasing or foreplay, he immediately pressed it up to her pussy, and began working himself into her. 

Beverley whimpered and moaned, her legs parting slowly as she felt her husband begin to slide his rod into her an inch at a time. Seconds later, Daniel had filled her to the hilt, and held his cock inside her, letting it throb comfortably inside her warm, wet pussy. Then, slowly, he began thrusting into her, watching her shapely butt jiggle delectably each time he pumped into her. Gripping one of her cheeks in his hand, he massaged and groped at it firmly as he pumped into her, before he pulled both her cheeks apart with his hands and negotiated his cock deeper into her tight, wet pussy. 

Beverley was thoroughly enjoying being the subject of her husband’s attentions, now, and allowed herself to be manhandled by Daniel’s burly, rough hands as he groped at her body while he thumped into her. When he needed a break from thrusting into her, he would grab her by her hips and pull her onto his cock, rocking her entire body to a slow, sensual rhythm. 

Beverley closed her eyes, enjoying the way her husband ploughed her with ease, his cock driving deep into her with the finesse and pose of a veteran in bed. But still, she found her mind wandering. In an alternate timeline, she was in the same home, in the same bed, but the place behind her was taken by another man. A younger, perhaps marginally more handsome man, with a little less finesse but with twice the vigor to make up for it. 

Why can’t I get him out of my fucking mind?

She couldn’t, because she missed the way he would climb over her, push her legs up to her head and thump her senseless. She couldn’t, because she couldn’t forget the way he had her against the wall, her thighs wrapped around his firm, hard butt. She couldn’t, because she missed the way he did her from behind – his hand in her hair, pulling back on her to kiss him on the lips as he fucked her hard, her whole body shaking uncontrollably with pleasure. 

“Fuck me,” Beverley moaned, in a stupor, “Fuck me C-Charles, fuck me, please.”

Oh fuck. 

Beverley caught herself too late. 

“I-I… I didn’t mean t-”

Daniel, however, didn’t stop thrusting into her. He kept going, upping his pace and pumping into her harder than before. Leaning over her, her pressed his face up to the back of her neck, his hands groping at her breasts. 

“Do you like it like this, professor?” he grunted, his hips thrusting into his wife at breakneck speed, “Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” 

Mmh, yes, I fucking love it like this,” Beverley moaned, spreading her legs and letting her husband drive even deeper into her than he could before.

“Do I fuck you better than your husband, professor?” Daniel grunted, catching Beverley off-guard. 


“Do I fuck you better than your husband, professor?” Daniel grunted again, thumping into her hungrily as his balls slapped against her clit.  

“Y-yes, mmh,” Beverley moaned, her cheeks blushing a bright pink, “You fuck me better than my husband C-Charles.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Daniel grunted, as he continued to pummel his wife ravenously, his cock sliding in and out of her so quickly and so forcefully, that her juices were splattering against the insides of her thighs and his torso. 

“I hope you’re ready for my cum, professor,” Daniel groaned, gripping his wife’s hips as he thumped into her, “I’m gonna’ cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“C-cum inside me Charlie,” Beverley whimpered, reverting to her former lover’s nickname as she became more comfortable with the greatly arousing turn their roleplay had taken, “My pussy is fucking yours. Cum inside your pussy, Charlie.”

As Beverley’s body reverberated with intense pleasure, her husband ravaging her sex with his throbbing tool, Beverley’s words drove home the debauched twist that their roleplay had taken to Daniel. Somehow, the depraved nature of their roleplay only deepened Daniel’s sexual hunger for his wife, and it was those very words that drove him over the edge. 

Groaning, Daniel began to shoot his warm cum into Beverley’s cunt. His cock reverberated inside her, releasing shot after shot of his heated seed deep into her pussy. His thighs shook, weakened from his orgasm, and he collapsed over her as she crumpled flat into their bed, exhausted. Slowly, his deflating member slipped out of her pussy, and the two lay over each other, breathing heavily but otherwise silent. 

“T-that was, amazing,” Beverley sighed, breaking the silence first. 

Pinned under her husband, she couldn’t swivel her head around to see his reaction, but surmised from his small chuckle that he too was in good spirits. 

“I-I’m uh… s-sorry about that whole Char-”

“Don’t be silly,” Daniel laughed, kissing his wife on the cheek, before rolling off her, to her side, “As you could probably tell, I think I enjoyed it too… somehow.”

“I could definitely tell,” Beverley cooed, “What was that at the end?

“I don’t know, something just came over me, I guess,” Daniel shrugged, rolling over in bed and facing the ceiling. 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind it coming over you a little more often,” Beverley giggled, resting her head on her husband’s chest. 

“Uh huh, I don’t doubt it,” Daniel laughed.

“You aren’t jealous, are you?” Beverley asked, concerned.

“Pssh, me?” Daniel said, waving his hand dismissively, before pausing. “Okay maybe just a teeny bit,” he said, laughing. 

Beverley climbed over her husband, and gave him a long, sensual kiss. 

“Still jealous?” 

“Plant another one of those kisses on my lips and then I’ll have it figured out for sure,” he said, grinning cheekily.

Beverley playfully slapped her husband on the cheek and pulled off him. As he slid off bed and into their shared bathroom, Beverley wrapped a towel around her waist and went downstairs to get the bottle of water she had left in her handbag. 

Rummaging through her bag, she grabbed her bottle and pulled it out. When she did, a small card came along with it and fell on the floor. It read:

Charles Smith, M.A. M.Hist.


On the corner of the card was scribbled ‘call me’, in ink that had smudged in the pocket of her handbag. Beverley held the card in her hand for a minute, her fingers trembling almost imperceptibly. She knew she should throw his card away, and forget that she had ever seen him…


It might come in handy. Maybe. 

One day. 

For work, of course. 

Who knows?

Beverley slipped the card back into a deeper pocket in her handbag, and zipped it shut.