When I first met Professor Hurley, I automatically knew that I was attracted to him. While he wasn't as good looking as some of the other professors on campus, he had a charismatic charm that was undeniably irresistible. Fortunately, I wasn't the only who notice this charm of his which made my comments easier for others to swallow. But to ensure that people wouldn't notice my infatuation with him, I saved my real thoughts on Professor Hurley for myself.
Professor Hurley taught Studio Art. Naturally, like most art teachers and the like, he did not dress like other professors on campus. He did not wear suits or polo's. He had his own manner of rugged jeans and interesting t-shirts or button downs. When the occasional meeting arrived that called for a more suitable approach, Professor Hurley wouldn't fail to surprise with his know how in dressing himself. But either way, it didn't matter. Every color looked good on him, every cut, even his thick rimmed glasses and the way threw his bag over his shoulder was flattering. While I was attracted to Professor Hurley and thought often about him and the things I would like to do with him if the opportunity arose, I never acted on the impulse. I knew my place in the academic world and I knew his and I was okay with that and the fantasy. I never went beyond it or anything else despite the urge.
One week, we were given a project that kept me late in the work room a couple of nights in a row. I wanted to get it done, so after dinner that Friday I headed straight for the art building. With no plans, I figured it was the best thing to do with my time. I entered the room around 6 not surprised by the lack of presence of anyone else and pulled out my materials. I placed my headphones on and began working, drowning out any other noise that might occur. Only an hour had passed when I finally took my eyes of my paper. I had no idea that Professor Hurley was standing next to me.
"Well hello to you too."
"Sorry Professor. You startled me. I didn't see you standing there."
"I noticed. I've been standing here for a couple of minutes now."
"No, don't apologize. You were focused on the work. I should be apologizing for scaring you."
"You're fine. I'm just trying to get this done."
"On a Friday night?"
"No time like the present. Besides, what are you doing here?"
"Seeing which of my crazy students are working on a Friday night."
"I can see the building from my home and noticed the light were on so I figured someone was working. I also forgot some papers so I came by to pick them up and here I am."
"Well, since you are here, do you mind taking a look at my project?" Anything to keep him here longer. He smelled really good.
"Sure." He immediately pulled my project in front of him and started scanning it. I watched him intently while he didn't speak, never lifting his eyes from the table. When he finally did, he started to explain what was going on in my picture that he enjoyed, what could be worked on a little more, and what he thought would be a good idea to change. "You're concept is great, but I'm not sure about your focal point. I'm assuming it's this here, but it's hard to tell since there's much going on. You might want to consider altering or changing it."
I made a face. Despite the sensational smell wafting around me, I didn't really agree with him.
"I like my focal point. I get that you don't really see it now but I'm hoping that when I paint it, it will become a little more obvious." I was staring at his hands. I never noticed before how big and rough they looked. I looked at my paper again, trying to pry my focus somewhere else.
"You do what you think is best and we'll see how it turns out."
When I looked up to look at him, he stuck his hand on mine. Most likely trying to show support in my decision. All of a sudden, it was like time stopped and I stuck my finger in a socket as what seemed like bolts of electricity reeling from his hand into mine. My skin felt like it was jumping all over the place. He softly but quickly jerked his hand away and shoved it in his pocket. Was it there longer than it should have been? We were staring at each other so much it felt as though hours had passed. And we continued to stare at each other. For the first time, I couldn't get my eyes off of him. He spoke first.
"Well, I'm going to head out. If you have anymore questions, we can discuss it in class on Monday."
"Thanks for your help Professor Hurley." I tried to respond as normally as possible.
"You're welcome." And with that, he was gone.
After Professor Hurley left, I continued my work. About two hours had passed when I had begun the painting process. I continued to go back and forth to the sink cleaning out items to reuse. Once at the sink, my headphones still on my head, I never heard the door open to the room again. Or the door lock for that matter. When I turned around, I was shocked to see Professor Hurley standing at the front of the room. I placed my things down and removed my headphones. I realized that he had flicked on the radio to the subtle station he played during class. The only difference was the volume was higher.
I wanted to ask him what was wrong. Why he came back. But I couldn't seem to budge. I couldn't speak. And when he turned around to look at me, I became frozen in my spot. There was something different about him now than from the two hours ago that I had last seen him. He was smiling. A different kind of smile. I tried to speak. But still, no noise would come out of my mouth. He walked straight up to me, placing both his hands on my face and without hesitation, his lips on mine. Despite all the shock in me, my lips obliged. I wasn't really sure what else to do so I let my arms lay at my side. But my lips moved with his, like perfect rhythm, starting slowly and then precariously growing faster and harsher as though at any moment we would be forced to part. That's when I realized what was happening and pulled away from him.
We stood there, breathing heavily, both our chests heaving fast from the lost our breath in each others kiss. I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew he knew it too. Yet we both stood there, out of breath, staring at each other. No words were exchanged. He was waiting on me and my reaction and seeing what I would do next. That's when I realized he didn't care about the consequences. And when I realized that, I didn't care.
I walked back towards Professor Hurley and stopped right at his feet. Our breathing had softened but its pace was still fast. I looked at him intently and in his eyes all I could see was sincerity. I lifted myself onto my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck and brought my lips to his. He complied. His arms moved around my back and pulled me in tighter. Our kiss quickened again. We stood there for a couple of moments before he wrapped his arms around me a little tighter and lifted me off the ground, carrying me to the nearest table. In the process of doing this, our lips part and he let his trail down my neck, making sure not to let me fall. He placed me on the center table that was nearest to us and then his mouth found its way back to mine. We continued to kiss for what seemed like forever. Whenever he seemed to be getting away from me, I would grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer, making our kisses deeper.
I'm not for sure when it happened, or how, but as we continued to kiss, my hands found their way to the buttons at the top of his shirt and began to undo them. Professor Hurley pulled his lips away from me and looked at me keenly.
"Are you sure?"
I still could not seem to answer. But I stared back at him and continued to unbutton his shirt, never letting my eyes leave his. When I finished, I brought my hands back up to the collar of his shirt and slowly pulled it off his shoulders and down his arms, letting it fall to the floor. As much as part of me wanted to rush, I wanted to give him the chance to stop me if he felt necessary. I then moved to the bottom of his undershirt, still keeping my eyes with his. I don't know how or why, but sound finally came out of my mouth.
Professor Hurley stepped closer, leaned forward and kissed me again. I took it as a yes and began to pull his undershirt up and over his head and out of his arms, causing him to break away from me. There he stood, shirtless with a tone physique, staring at me once again. I moved my hands to my shirt, unbuttoning it to show I was definitely sure. But I was shocked and a little scared when he placed his hands on mine to stop me. He moved his head next to mine and whispered in my ear 'let me,' sending chills down my spine. He continued to unbutton my shirt. I moved my right hand up and trailed it across and down his chest. His body had subtle yet firm definition. My hand continued to move downward, falling at the top of his pants, and sat there. It was then I realized how heavy I was breathing. Even though this was what I wanted, I was still nervous.
He pulled me in to kiss me again, leaving me barely sitting on the table. He took my shirt off, threw it to the side and brought his body closer to mine. He felt so warm against my skin in the cold room. I wanted to take my time but waste none as I brought my other hand to the top of his pants and began to undo them. I pulled what I could down and he used his legs and feet to pull the rest, kicking off his shoes in the process and leaving himself there in only his boxer briefs. He then pushed me down on the table so I was on my back and unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. He picked up one leg at a time, taking first the sandal off and the pulling each pant leg off. When he was done, I laid there on the table in an unmatched bra and underwear. If only I had known.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me back up to him, embracing me, and kissed me. And then he placed his hands on my back and unhinged my bra. I waited for him to ogle, like most boys my age would. But he didn't. He continued to kiss me while pulling my bra off and throwing it to the side with my shirt and pants. And that's when I remembered he wasn't my age at all. He was older and more mature and showed more respect for me and my body then I would have thought to ask for.
I got myself off the table and pushed him towards another behind him. I made sure he went far enough so that he was sitting instead. I then took a step back and while looking directly at him, I watched as he scanned me from my face down to my feet. I placed both my thumbs underneath the band of my underwear and pulled them down my legs and off my feet. I kicked them to the side and stared back at him and waited for his reaction. I began to get a little more nervous as I was now standing completely naked in front of my teacher. Something I never would have imagined. He started to move to get off the table but I rushed forward and placed both my hands on his knees. He stopped and I let my hands trailed up his thighs and hips to his waist. I curled my fingers over his waistband and slowly began to pull. Since he was sitting, he placed both his hands on each side of the table and lifted himself up so that I could pull his underwear completely off. I couldn't help myself as I looked down to see his penis at life. I then looked up at him. This was it.
"Scoot back," I told him. He did as I asked and as if reading my thoughts, grabbed me by the waist and helped lift me to the table. I placed my hands on his shoulders and my knees on either side of him. He kept his hands on my waist, never letting go. We continued to look at each other, obvious heat bursting out everywhere. And then I slowly lowered myself down.
It was almost as if I had never experienced this act before. He guided me and I felt him slowly enter my body. The feeling was different and more powerful than probably anything I had ever felt. I let myself slide down and when I was completely on his lap, he removed his right hand from my waist, placed it on the side of my neck, and brought my face down to kiss him. My body was already shaking from the intense feeling. I wrapped my arms around his neck, embracing him forcefully. I then lifted myself up and back down without warning and opened my mouth, never lifting my lips from his, moaning in pure existential ecstasy. I lifted myself again, came back down as he pulled his face away, throwing his head back and groaning.
What started in slow jaunts and unimaginable waves of pleasure became pure rhythms of delight. I quickened my pace. Not to fast, but enough where I held on to him around his neck and he never let go of my waist, guiding me up and down his penis. Small groans and moans escaped our mouths with passes of kisses on his ears and my neck. We continued like this for what only seemed like mere seconds and yet was much longer. I came down and stopped to give my thighs a quick rest. He must have realized because he placed both arms around my waist and began to get up. "Wrap your legs around me." As he stood, I listened, quickly wrapping my legs around his waist. He walked us over to the nearest wall and pushed me upwards against it. Not once did he let himself leave me. I had nothing to hold on to so I supported as much of my weight as I could against the wall. I didn't want him to struggle having to hold me there. Not that it seemed he was having any problem. He was a lot stronger than I thought. Something I never noticed.
I kept my legs wrapped around him as he started to push himself in and out of me. The rhythm wasn't the same as it was before, but it didn't matter and I didn't care. The feeling was still the same. Powerful and electric. His grunts got harsher, louder. My moans the same to his. I lost control of my legs around him after a couple of pushes and they began to fall to his sides. That's when I really got to know his strength. He noticed right away, placing his hands underneath my buttocks and thighs, holding me in the same place. He continued to push into me, stronger and harder, the pleasure forcing me to moan louder with every thrust. My hands moved from his back to the walls, trying to find something to grasp on to, to pull on, knowing there was nothing else. When he would lift me up, he would let his mouth fall upon my breast, suckling on my nipple before thrusting upward and dropping me down once more. While I could not move with him, his movements alone were perfect.
In my own thought on this, he pulled me away from the wall and swung me around. He sat me back on the table and pushed my entire body down. In doing so, his penis left me and therefore he placed his hands on my thighs and pulled me towards him, spreading me farther open. He then thrust himself back into me in once fell swoop with such force that I lost my own moan in my throat. He held his hands on my waist and thighs, pulling back and pushing forward with intensity. I began to get lost in myself and in him within every thrust. Everything around me began to become unrecognizable. The room, the music, all started to disappear. I could feel the wave coming over and I grasped the edge of the table under my legs. And I wasn't alone. He hands on my thighs began to get tighter as his thrusts became faster and his face more focused. I waited, hoping to time myself with him. Faster and faster he began to rock as my legs began to shake. And in one swift move forward, he stopped. And I let go. Pound and pound of pleasure washed over me as my muscles, both outside and in, tightened in ecstasy, nothing audible escaping my lips. Waves of pleasure so strong that I never felt his hands leave imprints in my sides as his body jerked forward. Suddenly, I could breathe again, my chest heaving. Professor Hurley collapsed on top of me, trying to catch his breath as well.
After what had happened that Friday, we decided it was best to continue on as though the event never occurred. Neither of us wanted to cause trouble for the other. But as the days past, I couldn't get the image out of my mind. I would catch him, in class, staring at me while speaking to another student. I knew he couldn't get it out of his mind either. When the next Friday rolled around, I couldn't take it anymore. After my classes, I headed straight back to the art building and straight towards Professor Hurley's office. When I got there, he was on the phone, his back to mine. I waited in the doorway for him. He hung up and turned around and saw me, standing there waiting on him. Waiting for him. Haunting seconds passed as we just stared at each other. Without a word, he smiled. That same smile. I entered his office, locking the door behind me.
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