I went to see Chris late in the day when I knew most of the offices around his would be empty. You know that saying about feeling as if your heart is in your throat? That's exactly how I felt approaching his open door. I was showing up outside of his scheduled office hours, but I sensed he would be there.

Smoothing a hand over my shoulder-length brown hair, I glanced down at my outfit. My blue dress, while suitable for summer, was also modest, with a flowing, knee-length skirt. It was sleeveless, but the neckline revealed no hint of cleavage. My sandals were almost soundless against the tiled corridor floor.

When I reached Chris's doorway, he looked up expectantly. Gone was the warm smile he used to offer me. He barely managed one now, and it didn't reach his eyes. It now felt like my heart slipped from my throat to plummet toward the pit of my stomach.

"Do you have a minute?" I asked quietly. While I spoke, I was struck by the change in Chris. Though he was well into his forties, his dark hair had little gray. His form was lean and strong, and his hazel eyes normally shone with a brightness that made him appear far younger. But today, he looked exhausted. He also looked guilty, and that was all because of me.

Chris finally nodded, but when I entered his office and moved to close the door behind me, the way I always had before, he said, "Leave that open, please."

I briefly closed my eyes to hide the way his words wounded me. So the damage I'd done was irreparable. Still, I had to try to fix it.

As I sat down in the chair in front of his desk, he avoided looking at me. How many times had he invited me to pull this same chair around his desk so I could sit at his side? Back then, he'd trusted me. This man was my professor and mentor. He'd taught me so much, always encouraging me whenever I started doubting myself.

And I'd made the grave mistake of falling in love with him.

For months, I'd succeeded in hiding my feelings from him. But as graduation neared, my despondency grew, soon overpowering my excitement at earning my degree. Once I finished school, I'd be living and working in a city within easy driving distance of my hometown. Even if I stayed here, having a relationship with Chris was out of the question. He was married, and from what I could gather by studying the framed photo of him and his wife that he kept on his desk, the marriage was a happy one.

Just last week, on the day I'd so foolishly ruined everything, I'd invented an excuse to stop by Chris's office. Far from begrudging me these visits, he generously offered his time. And as I sat by his side, listening to him offer advice on some issue I pretended to be concerned about, I sneaked glances at that photo. It looked as if it had been taken while he and his wife were on vacation. They appeared relaxed, both sporting healthy tans, and a vast ocean formed the backdrop behind them. His wife was blonde and beautiful, with an ebullient smile.

In short, she was nothing like me. Studious and dedicated, I was the epitome of a mousy bookworm. I'd planned and worked toward my future with the utmost care, and I would soon be graduating summa cum laude.

Still, I couldn't banish my sadness, which sharpened into a pang of grief, when I imagined saying goodbye to Chris for the last time. While sitting at his desk that day, I struggled to conceal my emotions. For his part, he suspected nothing was amiss. Turning toward me, with his face just inches from mine, he said, "You're brilliant, Erin, and I know you'll do great things."

It was merely a kind and encouraging compliment, like so many others he'd given me. Yet it proved to be my undoing. When I leaned even closer to him, he looked mildly surprised but didn't pull away. I felt a strange wildness overtake me as I abandoned all caution and kissed his mouth.

At first, Chris froze. But then I heard him moan from low in his throat. I was certain he started to kiss me back.

Then he withdrew, his eyes wide with alarm. "I'm sorry," he said, though I was the one who had kissed him. "We can't do this."

I was mortified, lightheaded from humiliation. Sputtering an apology, I grabbed my things and fled his office.

Since then, I'd been in an agonized state, aware that I'd majorly fucked up and having no idea how to fix it. In class, I could barely look at Chris, and he seldom let his eyes meet mine. His face was blank, almost cold, during the brief moments when he regarded me.

Now, I knew I had one last chance to atone for my reckless behavior. After taking a deep breath, I began, "I want to say how sorry I am—"

"We can't have this discussion here," he said, his stare drifting toward the door.

"We can if you allow me to close the door. Please, Chris." Long ago, he'd told me I could call him by his first name when we were outside of class, and I prayed I wasn't overstepping by doing so now.

He studied me for a long moment before again nodding. Once I closed the door, giving us some privacy, I returned to my chair. Resting my folded hands on his desktop, I couldn't hide the sorrow I felt, but I was determined to handle this in a mature way.

"I feel horrible about what I did," I told him in a voice just above a whisper. Despite his reservations, he leaned toward me, his gaze softening a little. "I can't deny I've developed deep feelings for you, Chris, but I never should have..." I struggled for the right words. "I never should have made an advance toward you." My lips quivered, and I had to look away while regaining my composure. "I've learned so much from you, and your support and encouragement mean more than I can say." I fought to speak past the lump of tears forming in my throat. "I'll hate myself if you're still angry with me when I graduate."

"I'm not angry, Erin." His tone was surprisingly gentle.

"So you can forgive me?" Though I quickly blinked back tears, Chris still saw them. He extended his hands, as if to reach for me. 

"There's nothing to forgive! I'm the one at fault here."

My mouth dropped open. "No, you're not! I'm the one who—"

He only shook his head to stop me. "Throughout my career, I've been so careful. I've worked with countless students, and if anything, I've always been too cautious, too formal, in trying to maintain appropriate boundaries. But with you..." His expression grew distraught, and it was then that I realized how much he was struggling. "I sensed you were attracted to me, Erin. I see now that, in my own subtle way, I encouraged that attraction. Because I have feelings for you, too."

When Chris's eyes locked with mine, I grew flushed, my pulse racing. Right now, he wasn't looking at me as a student, or even as a friend; he was looking at me as a woman he desired.

It was my own fierce lust that made me climb to my feet and circle around the desk to stand at his side. Though I could hear his quickened breathing, he remained almost motionless.

"Soon, you and I will be saying goodbye. We'll probably never see each other again." Though my voice broke as I spoke those words, I managed to continue. "But before that door closes, Chris, I'll take whatever you're able to give me." With a trembling hand, I caressed his cheek. He leaned into my touch, as if he craved it. "If you can't give me anything, and you want me to leave you alone, I promise I will."

Chris grabbed my hand, brushing his lips against my palm. Then he stood to face me. "I don't want you to leave me alone, sweetheart. The guilt is eating me up inside, but you're all I can think about, and..." His voice trailed off, and I could sense the battle being waged within him. I wanted to ease that burden by reaching for him, but I didn't dare.

He drew in a shuddering breath; I noticed he was actually trembling. "I want you so much," he said. "It's wrong, and it's not fair to either of us. It also makes me question what kind of man I really am, when I thought I knew." His smile was almost bitter.

Somehow, I drew upon some inner resolve I had no idea I possessed. Shaking my head firmly, I forced myself to say, "I won't be the reason you doubt yourself. We can stop this right now." Though I felt emotionally gutted, I steeled my spine and began to turn away.

"No." He grasped my wrist. "No, we can't stop this, Erin."

Before I could argue, Chris pulled me to him with a force that made me gasp. His mouth was hard on mine, as if he meant to punish us both with that kiss. Yet I surrendered, completely unresisting. I'd meant what I said when I told him I'd take whatever he could give.

But then his kiss grew tender, the way I'd always imagined it to be in my fantasies. The moment our tongues met, he released a pleasured moan. I slid my palms over his back. Already, I was drenched between my thighs. That was no surprise, for I sometimes got wet while merely sitting next to him at his desk.

And now? Now I was desperate to have him. My hands slid down to cup his firm ass while he nuzzled my neck with his lips.

"We have to be quiet," he whispered.

I quickly nodded, willing to do whatever Chris asked of me. He effortlessly lifted me onto the desk's edge, and I helped him pull up my dress. Lust rendered him almost unrecognizable as he took in the sight of my bare thighs. His touch became rough when he tugged at my panties. All the while, I felt a needy throb, bordering on painful, inside my pussy.

Once my panties were dangling from my right ankle, I spread my legs wider, and he stood between them. As we kissed again, our mouths hungry and forceful, I dared to stroke his cock. I could easily feel how hard he was through his pants. More than anything, I wanted to feel every inch of that hardness inside me.

Chris hurried to take out his cock. When I saw it, I had to swallow a moan of sheer yearning. It was around six inches long and gorgeous, with prominent veins and a tip coated with precum. Even now, a fresh drop emerged.

I wished I could touch and taste him, but we had so little time. Another student might knock on the door, or one of his colleagues could stop by to wish him a good evening. Chris knew as well as I did how precarious this was. Yet he still took a moment to slide his fingers between my slick folds, grinning when he found me sopping wet.

Then he pulled me even closer to the desk's edge. I raised my legs, granting him easy access to my pussy. With his tip at my opening, he hesitated for only an instant before entering me.

His first thrust had us gazing at each other in wonderment, for we'd finally crossed that forbidden line. My professor, my first love, was now inside me.

Chris began taking me with a powerful rhythm, and it was all I could do not to cry out. I never knew sex could be so silent. Not even a furtive fuck in a dorm room was this quiet. Weaving his fingers through my hair, Chris pulled my head back to expose my neck. Meanwhile, his hips continued pumping away between my thighs, giving me what I'd craved for months.

And he'd clearly craved it as well. As his lips traveled along my neck, I felt the occasional nip of his teeth. With his mouth and his cock, he seemed determined to possess me. Though he would never be mine, a part of me would always belong to him; I would compare every future lover, every intimate encounter, to Chris and this fervent coupling.

Planting my palms against the desk, I had to remind myself to breathe. I worried a mere sigh would break this spell, but when Chris's stare locked with mine, I realized my fears were unfounded. He was beholden to his desire, just as I was to my own. Someone could have thrown open the door at that moment, and I would have demanded that Chris continue fucking me. The hot lust in his gaze let me know he was ready to sacrifice his career, even his marriage, in order to keep claiming my cunt.

His breathing grew heavier, mingling with the sound of my wet pussy taking every inch of his dick. He looked down to witness our fucking, and I knew my flesh was gripping him tight. I soon began quaking, at the mercy of my approaching orgasm. I feared how powerful it would be, but I couldn't resist it. Not when Chris was relentless in driving me toward that precipice.

Looking up at me again, his eyes held a plea. "Come," he mouthed.

Ever the obedient student, I followed his instruction. As I violently shuddered, with my muscles tightening around his dick, I held his stare. I wanted him to see what he'd done to me.

Whatever Chris saw in my face, coupled with the feel of my powerful contractions, brought him to the brink of his own release. His expression grew almost pained while he waited for my climax to subside, for he was panting with need.

Finally, he pulled out. Still shaking, I watched him grasp his cock, which was slick with my juices. He gave himself a few rough strokes before a faint groan emerged from his throat. My eyes widened at the sight of his hot, thick cum spurting forth to mark my thigh. I greedily inhaled the scent of his sweat and our sex.

Once Chris was finished, he didn't immediately move to grab some tissues or put away his cock. Instead, he gave me a gentle kiss. With his fingers buried in my hair, he whispered against my lips, "I wish things were different, Erin."

Again, I blinked back tears, yet I managed to smile as I said, "I do, too. But I'm thankful for what you've given me."

*****

After the graduation ceremony a few weeks later, Chris and I found each other at the edge of the crowd. His eyes filled with tenderness as he drew me into a hug. Though we were careful to keep our embrace brief, I stayed in his arms long enough for him to whisper, "Congratulations, sweetheart." Then he dared to add, "Promise you won't forget me?"

I had to fight back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me in that moment. "I could never forget you, Chris," I whispered back. "I promise I'll make you proud."

Reluctantly stepping away from me, he allowed his hand to linger on my shoulder. With a warm smile, he said in a voice only I could hear, "You already have, Erin. And you will always be my favorite student."