3:03 a.m. :: 2002-04-16
office hours

The professor shuts the door quietly and motions to a seat, smiling warmly and asking, "So what brings you here today?" as he settles into his own desk.

The young woman smiles nervously and fusses with her shoulderbag and jacket as she sits down. Her chair is just to the side of the professor's desk, so the two face eachother directly. She's been here before, a few times, and enjoys the professor's advice as well as his warmth.

Of course, it has to be admitted that she enjoys more than his advice. She also enjoys his unabashed sensuality, the twinkle in his eyes when one of his many female students looks at him just a little too enthusiastically, his lithe body. She'd seen him once dashing out of the library in a tank top and tight ripped jeans, his cocked head and commanding gestures professorial, his muscle and powerful movements somehow animal.

"I just wanted to ask a few questions about my paper..."

They chatted for a few minutes. Once her questions about the paper were out of the way, the professor asked her about her plans for the future, how she was enjoying her time in college, her other classes.

While they were talking, the young woman fiddled agitatedly with the notebook and pen in her lap, halfheartedly jotting down notes to busy her hands, or flipping the pen in circles. Suddenly one of the professor's questions caught her daydreaming (about what? about him of course: he would rip off her shirt, throw her onto the desk and...) and the pen flipped out of her fingers. As she bent down to pick it up she caught the professor's eyes lingering on her cleavage, revealed by the wide gaping neckline of her shirt as she bent, two milky white breasts encased in a brief black brassiere. She followed his eyes towards her breasts, the silky white globes against the filmy, lacy texture of the silky cloth, the shadowed parting of their mass and the unfolding of ribcage and belly. She glanced up and, not quite by accident, met her professor's eyes questioningly.

The professor smiled wryly and raised his eyebrows. He had asked her a question and was waiting, patiently, for an answer.

"It's just that the erection..." The young woman caught herself: election, not erection, but it was too late. Now her lingering eyes were the culprit: without the desk in between them, she could see the sturdy bulge in his pants.

The professor glanced down and then, rather boldly, back at his student. He opened his legs slightly, thrusting his hips forward, and leaned back. He was putting his own body on display, a proud man beautifully shaped. At the crux of his body, between arms resting comfortably on the arms of his chair, legs widened, open-collared torso narrowing towards his hips, was his arousal.

She stared at it unabashedly. Then looked into his eyes.

"We seem to have reached a rather interesting juncture." the professor said quietly.

The young woman squeaked. Should she run? Should she grab her things, nod in embarassment and get out as fast as possible? She could feel her cheeks flaming scarlet, the heat in her face and neck and chest, her shallow breathing. She didn't know if she was petrified or more aroused than she'd ever been in her life.

"And of course it would be very inappropriate of me to initiate any...unprofessional relationship with you."

The young woman nodded slowly.

"I learned as a student to be much more passionate about my studies when I had a professor I was passionate about....There's no such thing as a relationship that exists only in the mind. We are human beings, flesh and blood as well as mind and spirit."

The professor reached down and rubbed his thigh slowly, deliberately.

"I admire you...for many reasons. I like your comments in class, but I also like the way you lean back in your chair when you're listening intently and tense your back, thrusting your breasts forward. I feel listened to in...more ways than one."

The young woman whispered dryly, "Yes, yes, I do do that...."

The professor leaned forward, "Be confident that your grade isn't threatened if you leave right now. You are a brilliant young woman and that will be recorded in your transcript. But if you stay, I will touch you. I will touch you with my hands, and then my mouth, and I will continue until you ask me to stop."

The young woman was too stunned to speak properly. She had fantasies like this, about him, and she had joked with her friends that she would jump him if she ever got the chance. She was, nevertheless, surprised to realized that given the opportunity it was true.

She was surprised, too, by her own boldness. She reached up inside her skirt, grabbed hold of her panties in one hand, and quickly, deliberately, wiggled them off and let them drop, a sliver of black lace, on the floor.

"I won't say stop."

The professor lifted her up and sat her down on the desk, just like she'd imagined, unbuttoning her blouse and slipping it gently from her shoulders, setting it down alongside before returning to the task at hand, stroking her body with rough, firm hands. His hands searched her body, probing, quizzing, curious. As he learned what gave her pleasure - as he saw her eyes widen, her heart race, her breath grow short - his touch grew firmer, more commanding. He sculpted her shape, arching her back as he drew her breasts into his mouth, spreading her legs as his fingers pulled and teased her labia and clitoris. She cried out.

The professor quickly put his fingers to her lips, shushing her, "Quietly now, it's an office..."

She closed her lips over his finger, sucking suggestively, and saw the answering twitch in his erection.

The young woman reached down and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the waist of his pants and drew the zipper down quickly, her hands reaching through undershirt and underwear to free the sex beneath. His erection sprouted from a nest of dark hair and stood proudly, his penis thick and pale, its tip butting against his belly button.

She spread her legs, opened wide atop the desk to allow him to feast his eyes as she feasted hers.

He moved in close to her, reaching down to position himself properly with one hand and grabbing his student around the waist with the other. With one hand held firm and steady around her hip, he touched the head of his penis to the dripping opening that throbbed warmly between her legs but paused briefly, looking at her questioningly.

She looked right back into his eyes and, holding his gaze, took his hard round buttocks in her hands and pushed him into her. As he slid in, each slow inch sending shivers of pleasure through her body, his arms clasped her waist and hips, clutching and caressing.

The effect was electric. The chemistry between them was intense, thick and natural. All of a sudden the professor was thrusting wildly, his student lying in a bed of scribbled notes and books, her legs wrapped around him as they moved in synch. She felt her climax building within her, a liquid melting sensation that drove her to new fury.

She pushed him against the wall, the bookshelves rattling, and took him in her mouth, suckling and stroking, her hands on buttock, thigh, knee. He pushed her away, took her into his arms and sat her down atop him, supporting her weight and sucking fiercly at her breasts while he pushed and pulled at her hips, moving in and out.

He turned her around, shoved her up against the wall where she'd pinned him a moment before, using brute force to still her wild movements, controlled even in the fierceness of his passion, and stabbed at her with quick, slow, powerful thrusts. As the orgasm racked through her body, he trapped her cry in his mouth, biting her lips and squeezing her bottom almost too hard. His own climax was only seconds behind hers and his body shuddered convulsively. He half collapsed, boneless, and a moment later the two of them were sprawled out on the floor, the young woman looking up at the underside of her professor's desk, feeling his penis slowly grow flaccid within her, his defenses down for a moment as he nuzzled into her shoulder, caressing her body with a soft, light hand.

When, a few minutes later, she had pulled her clothes back on and tidied, as best she could, her hair she looked over at the professor shyly, but confidently too. "Thanks for..."

The professor smiled his warm smile and his eyes, so suggestive, twinkled wickedly. "Thank you....and if you need any more help with that paper, stop by again next week."

She nodded, smiling back at him, "I've been having such a difficult time with it. I'll see you then..."

And the door shut behind her.

spent :: fresh

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