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The Teacher and the Student

A student shows just how interested in his lessons she is.
A busy Thursday had found me in the library café, with what must have been the tenth cup of coffee I’d consumed that day. I was struggling mightily to focus my attention on a depressingly thick stack of books and material for my classes. It was my own fault for electing to write a thesis this year, I thought to myself.

At least they kept the place nicely heated. Even though the harsh winter winds rattled against the windows, I shed my jacket, sweater, and long-sleeved tee, leaving just a tight little tank top on as I settled cross-legged into the armchair, and pulled the first of the books over to me. It immediately felt as if I was looking at the words, but not reading them.

I must have drifted off the sleep, because the next thing that registered in my mind was a tap on my shoulder. I jumped, and the book slid off my lap as I looked up for the source of the disturbance. I grimaced. Of all people, it had to be my professor who caught me napping.

“Er, hi Professor Donovan,” I offered sheepishly.

He didn’t reply, but bent down to retrieve the book I had dropped. Peering at the cover, he said, “I don’t find this textbook on…early American founders, to be all that fascinating myself, but still I wouldn’t expect you to fall asleep over it.”

At about 6’ (Or there about) he was only an inch or two taller than me, but towered over me now as I sat curled up in the armchair. Unsure of his tone, I was about to mumble some excuse about being tired when he continued, “So you’re here on a Thursday night, and it’s only the start of semester. You work pretty damn hard, don’t you?” He seemed to pause to think before asking, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Still disoriented from having fallen asleep only to be awakened by a professor, I was now distracted by his physical closeness, and found myself staring into his hazel eyes. “Um…I uh…sure? The only thing that would help me though at this point would be an IV drip…”

He smiled, “Well I can’t help you there, but I think that…” he was cut off before he could finish, as one of his colleagues, a visitor I’d seen around the department, came up to him. “Ah…sorry. I need to get going. I’ll see you in class Monday.” Professor Donovan handed the book back to me, and turned and left.

I was left with my stack of books, wondering whether the light brush of his fingers across my hand as he handed back the book was accidental…

* * *

I groaned as I reached to hit the snooze on the alarm clock. The weekend was never long enough; fucking Monday. Dragging myself out of bed, I pulled on my robe and headed for the shower. I hurriedly waited for the water to warm and jumped in as soon as I could. With the hot water running over my body, I closed my eyes and breathed in the steam, thinking about the day ahead. 

Monday meant seminar with Professor Donovan. It was the one class I always looked forward to. He was a good professor, energetic and passionate about his work, and quite young compared to any other professor I had, in his late-thirties I’d guessed. This was the second class I’d taken with him, and I guess he noticed that I worked especially hard in his class, because he singled me out with challenging questions in class, and always had a smile and a few words for me whenever I bumped into him on campus.

I pictured him, his tall frame with a hint of muscularity under the jacket and tie he always wore, his black hair that looked so soft…what would it feel like, I wondered, to run my hands through it? And his touch, warm and light as he brushed my hand back in the library…what if he meant to lightly touch my skin. I wondered what his hands on my body would feel like. I’m curvy, at about 5’8”…would he like the feel of my young body pressed against his tall frame? Moving my hand down between my legs mindlessly, I slowly slipped a finger in my pussy. I thought about his lips pressed against mine…his fingers wrapped in my dark, silky hair as he kissed me…I lost myself daydreaming, and I fingered myself faster and harder until I came, gasping and leaning against the shower wall.

When I’d finally gotten out of the shower and dried my hair, I only had five minutes to dress and run to class. Opening my closet, my glance settled on my shortest skirt, the one I only wore when I felt like drawing attention. It was almost in the obscenely short category…but the thought of who I was about to see made me decide to go for it. Why the hell not? I put on the skirt, with just a red thong underneath, and a form fitting sweatshirt, and slipped on my shoes, grabbed my bookbag and jacket, and ran out the door.

I arrived in class a little late, but thankfully Professor Donovan was only going over announcements about the paper requirements. Slipping into my normal seat in the front row, I shrugged off my jacket and pulled out a notebook and pen.

As he launched into his lecture, I scribbled away furiously, drawn in by his always fascinating analysis. Turning a page, I accidentally dropped my pen, and uncrossed my legs to bend down and retrieve it. At that moment I realized Professor Donovan stuttered and stopped his lecture mid-sentence.

Looking up, I noticed that he looked a little flushed, but he glanced down at his notes and picked back up in the lecture.

“Was he…?” I thought to myself. I wanted to test him. The thought of him looking was too much for me to handle. I slipped down in my seat a little, and spread my legs just enough that from the front of the room, he could catch a glimpse. His eyes, moving across the room as he spoke, settled on me and he stammered again. I did nothing but stare back at him at first, before I opened my legs just a bit more.

For the rest of the class, I noticed that the Professor, normally one who moved around the class during lecture, stayed put behind the podium.

I didn’t take very good notes the rest of class. When the clock hands arrived at 11:00 AM, the rest of the class pulled on jackets and backpacks and headed out the door. I lingered, deliberately taking my time putting my notebook up, thankful that nobody had stayed after to ask questions on this day. I decided to allow myself to tease him a bit more. What harm could it do?

“Um, Professor Donovan? I have some concerns about, uh, this class…well, can I talk to you?”

He frowned slightly, but the expression in his eyes was more hesitant than irritated. “Sure. I have no appointments today, why don’t you come with me, I’m headed to my office right now,” he replied.

Walking the three flights up to his office, we exchanged the usual pleasantries, with him asking how my other classes were going, and what my post-graduation plans were. I noticed that his glance kept on drifting down and sideways. He seemed to be trying to catch glimpses of my ass, and maybe my hips, which were shown off in their voluptuous form even in this skirt. When we got to his office, he unlocked the door and entered it first, and I shut the door behind me. I would normally never do that, but I had done it without thinking this time. He didn’t say anything about it.

He gestured for me to take the seat across from his desk. He sat down and began, “You got the only A in my class last semester. And you’re doing well so far this semester. What is it that you’re concerned about?”

I took a deep breath, and said, “Oh well, I’m not here about my grade exactly. I was actually wondering if you needed a research assistant, because I really like your classes and find your area of research to be fascinating and if you needed someone to help…” I knew I was speaking fast, but my heart was pounding, and I could feel myself getting wet, just thinking about how much I wanted him, knowing what I was really trying to say with these words.

“Well, normally I don’t take on undergraduates as assistants, but in your case I think the department might be able to offer you a position.” Professor Donovan said, smiling slightly. He pulled a thick manuscript from the pile of papers strewn across his desk. “Why don’t you look over some of what I’ve been working on thus far, and you can tell me if you’re still interested.”

I walked around to his side of the desk, and leaned close to him, gazing at the document. I was close enough now that I could vaguely sense his cologne…and just as I was wondering what to say, Professor Donovan placed his hand softly on my arm. I looked over at him, and he was biting his lip, watching me a bit warily for my reaction. He said quietly “Look, about what you were doing in class today…I’ve had students offer themselves to me, in exchange for a passing grade. I’ve always turned them down, obviously. I hate that. I place high value on the ideals of education. My colleagues and I think you’re one of the brightest we’ve seen in a while, so I hope you don’t feel like you need to do this, for a recommendation letter or a job or anything…you don’t need to do this.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not that at all. I just…I just think you’re really attractive…” I stared down at the desk, unsure of how to continue. All the confidence I had at this point had escaped me. But Professor Donovan took my hand, and pulled me into his lap. I was dizzy with my desire and confused, but he answered my doubts by pressing his lips to mine; at first softly, then more insistently, as I returned his kiss hungrily.

“I’ve never done…we really…shouldn’t…” he whispered, but his actions betrayed his desire, as his hands slipped under my shirt, and finding that I hadn’t worn a bra, he groaned softly as he cupped my breasts in his hands. Soon he had my shirt off and on his desk, and was kissing my breasts and biting at my nipples. Overtaken by my own desire, I grinded my hips into his crotch, feeling his heat and hardness poking at me.

After teasing each other for a few minutes, I pushed his chair away from the desk so I could drop down on my knees, unzipping his slacks and releasing his hard cock from the confines of his boxers. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, but with his hard cock just inches away from my mouth, any normal thought I had left had escaped my mind. Licking the tip of his cock to taste the precum leaking out, I heard him moan and looked up. His eyes were fixed on me, his chest heaving slightly with his need. “Please…” he begged hoarsely. I needed no more encouragement, and slid the entire length of his shaft into my mouth. Bobbing my head up and down, swirling my tongue around, I savored his taste and feel. I grew wetter and wetter, pleasing him and knowing how turned on he was for me.

After a short time, I could feel his legs tensing as he placed his hand on the back of my head. “You’ve got to stop,” he groaned, “Stop baby, I want to fuck you. Sit on the desk.”

I eagerly complied, and planted myself at the edge of the desk. He pushed up my skirt, tore off my thong panties with a harsh pull, ruining them, and I watched, as if in a dream, as he let them fall to the floor next to a stack of books. Still sitting, he placed his hands on my full hips before sliding them down to my legs, spreading them apart, and shoved his head between my legs. His warm, wet tongue darted around, flicking over my most sensitive spot.

“Oh god…Pro…Professor…” I moaned. I lifted my hips up, begging him to fuck me with his tongue, but he pulled away and stood up, positioning his cock at the entrance of my pussy. It was my turn to beg. “Please, fuck me…please…”

“Please who?” Professor Donovan smirked, enjoying his role comfortably now. He rubbed the head of his dick along my wet folds as he ordered me to beg.

“Please, Professor…please fuck me!” I whimpered, trying to pull him onto me.

In one swift motion, he thrust his hard cock into my wet and waiting pussy. “Do you like that?” he growled, his eyes boring into mine.

“Yes, yes, holy shit yes, please…” I gasped, sensations overwhelming me.

“Is this what you do? Is this why my colleagues tell me you’re such a good student? Do you fuck all the guys in the department?” Professor Donovan continued.

“No, only you, I’m your slutty student, whatever you want, please just fuck me, fuck me hard, please…pleasssse, ” I groaned incoherently.

He answered my pleas with swift, hard thrusts, pinning me to the desk, his hand covering my mouth to prevent my moans from being heard. I couldn’t believe how his cock felt, hot and throbbing and filling my pussy so fully.

After all the anticipation, my orgasm came faster than I expected. I came hard, my juices dripping onto his desk, and my pussy clenching around his cock. At this, with one more insistent thrust, my professor filled me with a load of hot cum, throwing his head back in a silent scream, a low growl the only sound he was making.

Lightheaded and breathing hard, I sat back up on the desk and rested my head against him, as he held me close until our breathing returned to normal.

“That was incredible…” he said to me. I pulled him close to kiss him, my body still quivering with pleasure.

A knock at the door brought us back to our senses. “Professor Donovan, you’ve got a call from Cameron.” I recognized the voice as that of Peter, the department secretary.

“I really need to get going…” I grinned guiltily at my professor.

I reached for a tissue to clean up his cum, threw it in the wastebasket, and grabbed my books and bag. Glancing back to make sure he had his clothes in order, I opened the door.

Trying to act natural, I said, “Thanks for going over that article with me, Professor Donovan. I’d better run or I’ll be late for my class…”

He nodded, saying “No problem, see you Wednesday.”

It was only until I was out of the building that I realized I’d left my torn thong lying on the floor underneath his desk…

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Between classes, studying with friends; all the time really, my thoughts would flash back to what happened Monday afternoon in Professor Donovan’s office. I wasn’t sure what to think of it… it wasn’t typical for me to be aggressive like that, and I had certainly never just fucked and left like that. Especially to have done it with a professor… I couldn’t deny that I had wanted him for a while now…and it was consensual, after all. But at the same time, I was terrified of the potential consequences. What if someone found out? Would he be fired? And what must he think of me now, really?

As if confirming my fears, Professor Donovan never even looked in my direction during Wednesday’s class. Unsure of what was going through his mind, I certainly wasn’t going to take the initiative in approaching him. I was too afraid now. As the weeks stretched on, I was becoming more and more miserable. My other classes were tedious, my thesis writing wasn’t going well, and to top it all off, it was turning out to be the worst winter I’d ever seen. I had stopped going to Professor Donovan’s office hours, and frankly, I missed the intellectual stimulation. His lectures were still great, but I sat in the back of the class and avoided asking questions or making eye contact with him.

Two days of rain had turned the most recent snowfall into dirty gray slush, transforming the cobblestone walkways of campus into barely navigable rivers. As if our huge stacks of readings and papers weren’t bad enough, nature had to have a go at me during a day of mid-terms. A misstep on the way to class landed me ankle-deep in an icy puddle, and I cursed as the freezing water seeped into my shoes. 

Damp socks weren’t my only concern though, as I walked into Professor Donovan’s class. The paper proposals we had turned in the previous week were being distributed back, with comments. I had taken great care in choosing my topic, picking one because the subject interested me, and for more pragmatic reasons, an easy one, because I needed a good recommendation from the professor to get into graduate school. “Though you might have blown it already, what with that fucking on his office desk,” I grimly reminded myself.

Professor Donovan was just inside the door, handing our proposals back to us as we walked into the classroom. I kept my eyes down as I took the piece of paper from him, and didn’t look at it until I was safe in my seat at the back of the class. There was only one sentence written at the bottom of the paper: “Please see me in my office after class.”

My face flushed hot with the prospect of having to face him. Was he angry that he had allowed me to seduce him? He seduced me just as much, I thought. But he probably regretted it… and probably wanted to make sure I wasn’t babbling about our sexual encounter with other students. But he did write “please.” Maybe he just had some comments about my paper topic that would take too long to write down. Maybe. I clung on to that thought as the minutes of class ticked away.

It really wasn’t that I regretted the incident, I admitted to myself as class ended and I trailed behind the other students as we filed out of the room. After all, I did “accidentally” let him see up my skirt when I was sitting at the front of class…and when I got down on my knees in his office and sucked his cock, and then he took me over his desk…well, it was perfect. I didn’t regret one minute of it. No, it wasn’t regret that made me avoid him…it was the fear that I had ruined a perfectly good academic relationship.

While I mulled these thoughts over, my feet had carried me automatically to his office door. As was customary during office hours, the door was cracked open, so I knocked and, hearing a “Come in!” entered, closing the door behind me. Professor Donovan was making a note in a book, and without looking up, waved me into the seat. I sat down quietly, and pulled my notebook out. Marking his place, Professor Donovan closed his book and looked up.

“Well,” he said without preamble, “I thought you’d stopped caring about my class, until I saw from your paper proposal that you are still working hard.”

When I didn’t speak, Professor Donovan continued. “From your lack of participation in class the last few weeks, I thought something was wrong. But I figured if you had any concerns, you’d see me in office hours; except you stopped coming to those a few weeks ago. Why? Been busy with other…classes?”

The raised eyebrow and tone of voice that accompanied his last sentence clearly insinuated something, and that goaded me into speech.

“Yes, professor, I’ve been busy with classes,” I delivered the words rather forcefully. “I’m always busy with classes. I’m a student. Perhaps I don’t understand your question. Maybe you’d like to be more direct?” I knew I was verging on insolence, but his suggestion that I had been sleeping with other professors…he had no right to say such a thing.

Professor Donovan crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, fixing me with his intense gaze. Even now, when I was experiencing a mixture of anger and uncertainty, I couldn’t help but admire how intelligent and attractive he looked, with his features and hazel eyes something my mind could have carved out of a fantasy.

Then he said, “I was merely wondering why you might be having, issues, with my class. Oh, and you left something last time you were in office hours.” With that, he pulled open one of his desk drawers, fished out a torn red thong, and tossed it across the desk so that it landed on my open notebook.

I’d been wondering what he did with it. I had worn a skirt that day, so many weeks ago, and in my daze, only realized after I had left the building that I’d left my thong lying next to his desk. I had felt far too foolish to go back to retrieve it. “Well, if there’s one way to bring up a subject, this is it,” I thought, staring down at the memento, as it was.

The situation possessed enough of the surreal that I couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, Professor Donovan, I do have some issues. Not that you need reminding, but I’m your student. And hopefully you don’t need reminding, but you fucked me, right over this desk. And now, you expect me to continue coming to your office and be normal? I don’t know what to do. It seems impossible.”

At this, Professor Donovan smirked. “What to do? Well that’s not too difficult to figure out…”

He stood up and walked over to my side of the desk, and leaned over my shoulder, as if looking at my notes. He spoke in a whisper, but deliberately so that I wouldn’t miss a single word. “You want me. And I want you. Not everything is so complicated. We can do both things. Now…do you want this? Or shall we go back to discussing everything in a purely academic sense?”

While speaking, Professor Donovan had unzipped his slacks, and pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. It stood there at full attention. It was less a turn on just seeing it, than knowing who it was attached to, and why it was throbbing hard in front of me now.

I was couldn’t fight my own desire. And so in answer to his whispered taunt, I half-turned my chair to face him, and took his waiting cock into my mouth with fervor.

Almost instantly, my head was swimming, and I couldn’t think of anything except for how hot and pulsing his cock felt in my mouth, and how good he tasted as I alternately swirled my tongue teasingly around the shaft and sucked his cock deep into my throat.

I heard Professor Donovan give a soft moan as he wove his fingers through my long black hair, using this as leverage so that he could fuck my mouth even harder and faster. “Fuck yes…” he groaned through gritted teeth, “suck me, baby… suck me off.”

I didn’t need the encouragement. The thought, the knowledge of what I could do to him right now, was all I needed. I sucked and worked his cock for all I was worth, until his legs tensed up, and his hand on my head gripped almost painfully as he thrust his cock forcefully into my mouth, and while he wouldn’t make me gag with his length, he almost made me gag on its thickness. With a warning growl, he spewed a thick load of cum into my mouth, and I swallowed eagerly, not wanting to spill a drop. This wasn’t an easy task, as his cum came in hot spurts again and again, and I smiled inwardly, thinking that perhaps he had saved all of this for me, wanting only me to taste it.

After I sucked him dry, I gently licked his cock clean, and then leaned back in the chair, feeling lightheaded, as I watched my professor put his softening cock back into his boxers and zip up his slacks.

Professor Donovan returned to his seat, giving me one of his inscrutable half-smiles. He straightened up said to me, “Now about your paper proposal, there are a few things that need clarifying. I think it will be helpful if we talk through some of these ideas together.”

I was taken aback by this quick change of gear. “Um…talk through some ideas?” I repeated faintly.

“Oh yes,” Professor Donovan definitely gave me a smirk this time. “Unless you’re still distracted by other issues? On second thought… let’s do it this way. Forget that. I want you to play with yourself. Right here, right now, while I watch.”

“What?” I said, not believing what I was hearing. “Or you won’t discuss my paper proposal with me?”

My confusion was greeted with another devilish smile. “No, it’s nothing like that,” Professor Donovan said, in an out of place reassuring tone. “But,” and here his tone turned wickedly playful, “we can’t have you distracted. I told you we can do both things here. But it wouldn’t make for a very productive discussion if you were wet and turned on the entire time we needed to talk, now would it?”

To hear such lewd commands on the lips of a professor I respected and admired…even after how far we had come…if my pussy hadn’t been wet with excitement from just having sucked him off, it would certainly be wet now. I was drenched.

“I’m waiting baby,” my professor growled. “Mmmm, beautiful,” he murmured appreciatively, as I stood up and in one swift motion unbuttoned my pants, and wriggled out of jeans and panties. He took total control next. “Sit down. Spread your legs wide; dangle them over the arms of the chair.”

I hesitated, feeling exposed and self-conscious.

Professor Donovan sensed my hesitation. “Do you think for a moment that I’ll let anyone catch us? No. But do you think for a moment I don’t want you to do what I say?” He leered. “Do what I say NOW,” he ordered, though the mischievous glint in his eye did not escape me.

I obeyed, imagining what I must look like to my professor, with my notebook sitting open on the desk, and the moist, pink lips of my pussy spread open for him to see. “Fuck yourself with your fingers,” he said.

Abandoning myself to his power and our shared lust, I licked my finger to moisten it, and then slipped it slowly inside my pussy, while rubbing on my clit with my other hand. As I worked myself up, I slipped another finger inside, and fucked myself more vigorously as my professor smirked and nodded his approval. I could hear the wetness of my pussy as I continued to finger-fuck myself, building up to a climax, when he interrupted. “That’s enough. Come here.”

I whimpered, feeling the heat of my pussy as I was so close to cumming, and desperate for that release. But the power game meant that I should be obedient… this time around. I would obey. I walked over to his side of the desk.

 I did as I was told, and was surprised to see the hardness of his cock pressing out onto his pants as I stood in front of him. I could see the lust burning in his eyes. ” I want you to fuck me.”

The rain and wind that pounded at his office window seemed to match the intensity of our desire. I didn’t hesitate, but unzipped his slacks and fished inside his boxers to reveal his cock, just as hard as it was before. Such quick recovery time…then, climbing up on his chair so that I straddled him, legs on either side of his, I lowered my swollen pussy down onto my professor’s cock.

I relished every inch of his hardness, and lifted myself up and down on his cock, building up speed as I adjusted to his size, a change from my small fingers. My pussy was so wet that I knew I must be staining his pants, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes were fixed on my face, and as my body thrashed wish pleasure against his, he pressed his lips to mine, sending jolts of electricity through me. Then, he unbuttoned my shirt and commented, “Mmm, no bra again,” before taking a nipple in his mouth, licking and biting softly at it. He ran his hands over my body and commented again, a bit more headily, “Your curves…have to the greatest thing…fuck…” With all this added stimulation, and the pleasure of his cock filling me so completely, I moaned softly as I climaxed, fucking him hard and fast, my clenching pussy milking his cock.

As I moaned, Professor Donovan released my nipple from his mouth, and growled into my ear, “Yesss, yessss, you’ve got a nice tight pussy… fuck me, that’s it, ride me…fuck my hard cock with your tight pussy…” and for the second time that day, my professor rewarded my efforts with a load of his own cum, as it shot hard and warmly into me.

I lay in his arms as our breathing returned to normal, scarcely aware of the pool of cum that was now trickling out of my pussy and onto the chair, leaving a dark stain in the fabric. He whispered, “Oh baby…you’re so beautiful…you’re such a good student…oh…” in my ear while softly stroking my hair.

After a while of sitting together, he started, “We’ve been in here too long.” He helped me up and began putting his clothes back in order. “Come over to my place tonight, at seven, maybe?” I nodded. “And we’ll pick up where we left off,” he said as he scribbled his address down on a page in my notebook, and then closed it and put it back into my bookbag.

He gave me the time I needed to dress and collect myself. Before he opened the door, he turned back to me. “We can do both. We will. You’re going to be my best student, and the best woman I’ve ever had. Hopefully it stays that way for a long, long time.” He kissed me gently before turning back and opening the door, exiting ahead of me.

When I left the building to go to my next class, the winter rain was still coming down hard. But I didn’t feel it at all, as I smiled, thinking about the meaning of “picking up where we left off,” and anticipating the evening, weeks, and months that lay ahead.

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