"Shit!" Taylor swore. A panicked look spread across his face as he came to a stop in the middle of campus and patted down the pockets of his jacket and pants.

"What is it?" Craig asked.

"My phone," Taylor answered. "It's not here.

"Did you leave it in your classroom?"

"Yeah, probably," Taylor responded to his colleague. "Listen, man, why don't you go ahead to the faculty meeting? Let them know I'm running a few minutes behind. I'll catch up with you in a bit."

"Alright. Hope you find it."

The two professors went in opposite directions. Taylor was in his second semester of teaching English lit at Clinton State University. Craig had been hired a year before, but was still considered 'new faculty' by the department. The two became fast friends, helping each other navigate the unfamiliar waters of departmental politics. Even though Craig had only had his Ph.D. a year longer than Taylor, he was several years older, and usually gave great advice.

Taylor retraced his steps back to the classroom where only fifteen minutes earlier, he'd been fighting a losing battle with the boredom of about a hundred undergrads in a survey of British literature course.

It was the kind of grunt work they made new faculty do, a step above College Composition, which was usually dumped on graduate student teachers. The more senior faculty were able to teach smaller graduate classes in their areas of specialization. It would be some time before Taylor worked his way to that level. Until then, it was broad undergraduate survey courses as far as the eye could see, and maybe Intro to Shakespeare if he was lucky.

The class now quiet. 100 empty seats facing towards a whiteboard and small wooden lectern. He made his way quickly to the front of the class. His heart was pumping, hoping his phone would be sitting idly on the lectern where he'd been standing, attempting to engage his students with the S&M kinkiness disguised as religious piety in the poetry of John Donne. Sex sells, as they say, but only to the first few rows of ass-kissers and overachievers. Most of those in the back merely tolerated him as a mildly annoying distraction from Facebook and text messages.

"Don't get your hopes up," Craig had told him in his first semester. And still, Taylor had persisted in believing in the fantasy of actually reaching these kids. He'd been brought up on the myths of Dead Poets Society and Freedom Writers and Dangerous Minds, where a plucky young teacher who has the right amount of passion is able to connect with their students and really ignite their interest in literature. The reality had been discouraging. Fortunately, those who bothered to write end-of-term evaluations (about twenty five percent of his classes) were mostly positive.

Taylor rounded the corner of the lectern, and found it empty save for a few loose papers left behind by some other professor.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

He should have known it would be gone. You can't just leave a phone lying around and not expect someone to take it. Taylor hadn't even bothered to password protect it. Now he was going to have to change all the passwords on all his accounts - Not to mention getting a replacement from the phone company. In his mind, he was tallying all the hours that would be taken away from his writing as a result of this stupid mistake.

He mentally reviewed the faces of his students. Many of them were little more than vague shapes and complexions in his memory, but one of them was a thief. What stung most was to know that the person who stole his phone would be sitting in his class, Mondays and Wednesdays for another seven weeks, gazing up at him, or more likely, using his own phone to text their friends about how boring his class was. But there was no way of telling which of the hundred it had been. No way to place blame or accusation.

"Shit!" he repeated again, slamming his hand on the lectern. It was his own fault for being so careless in the first place.

Taylor took a deep breath, and walked back towards the door of the classroom, glancing beneath the seats in desperate hope that perhaps it had been dropped somehow. But there was nothing. He glanced at his watch. The faculty meeting had started five minutes ago, and there was still a ten minute walk across campus to the English department building. Maybe eight minutes if he picked up his pace.

***

Two days later, Friday, Taylor stopped by the main office for the English department to check his mail box before heading out for the weekend. The administrative assistant Barb had already gone, leaving a work-study student to handle the office duties. There were several flyers for campus events with limited appeal and a textbook catalogue from a major publisher. He dumped them in the nearby recycling bin.

Taylor bent down to visibly inspect the box, making sure he'd cleared out all the junk. There was an object at the back of the box. His heart leapt, knowing exactly what it was. He reached in and pulled it out. It was wrapped in lined paper with two elastic bands. Eagerly, he tore the paper away to reveal his phone, returned safe and sound.

"Yes!" he said mostly to himself, smiling excitedly. He turned to the work-study student. "Do you know who put this in my box?" he asked her.

She shrugged without removing her ear-buds. Taylor sighed, but he wasn't going to let the kid ruin his mood. He'd gotten his phone back. He checked the paper it had been wrapped in for some indication of who had returned it. There was a brief note there:

Dear Dr. Cheavis, You left this in class the other day. I wanted to give it back to you, but I also included a little gift. I hope you like it. I really liked your lecture on Donne. It got me turned on. I think you're a really hot teacher. Pic 4 pic? E-mail me at

Pic 4 pic? Taylor turned on the phone, and accessed his photos. Right away he saw an image that couldn't have possibly been there before - cleavage contained in a sexy navy blue bra. It was taken from the photographer's point of view, looking downward. The breasts from this perspective looked amazing - young and firm, neither too big nor too small. Beyond them was a flat stomach and panties which matched the bra, and then legs descending past the frame. A gorgeous body!

Taylor looked around, quickly remembering where he was, he shut off his phone again and stuffed it in his pocket.

"You're sure you don't know who left this for me?" he asked the work study again.

"No, Dr. Chavez," said the work-study with more than a hint of impatience.

"You didn't see anyone?"

"No," she said. Shaking her head.

"Alright, Dani," Taylor said, realizing she was an informational dead-end. "Thanks."

Taylor forced himself to walk at a normal pace to his office, hoping none of his colleagues would notice him as he passed their doors. Fortunately, those who had their doors open were busy with students or hard at work, and no one stopped him to chat. As soon as his own office door clicked shut behind him, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. There was the same picture, beautiful curves, smooth white skin, sexy lingerie. Taylor examined it in detail.

It had to be one of his students. But which one? There was no face, or even hair to give her away. Just an amazing body. He re-read the note again. The confession that she'd been turned on caused stiffening in his own pants. She thought he was hot. She left him a mysterious picture, and a promise for more.

But that e-mail address was no clue. She'd had the sense to not use her easily identifiable school address. It could be anyone. Damn! She was certainly sexy, though.

"Come on, man," said a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Craig. "You know you can't do anything with this student. The smart thing would be to just report it and forget it."

"Ugh, I know," Taylor said aloud. He took one last look at the picture, and then hit delete. A prompt for confirmation popped up. His thumb hovered over yes, and then hit no. He decided to save the picture... as evidence... until he reported the incident to his department chair... who was at a conference until next week...

***

Taylor used to party with his friends on the weekends. Now, more often than not, he spent his Friday evenings with a bottle of scotch and a pile of student papers to grade. None of them were mind-blowing. Most were merely adequate. The over-achievers tended to use extra sources, but rarely were able to synthesize them into a single coherent argument. There were a couple of argumentative rebels who tended to respond to fairly straight-forward questions with conspiracy theories about who really wrote Shakespeare's plays, etc.

The majority of students, though, seemed to range from borderline-literate to totally incomprehensible. Taylor had to remind himself that they were just undergrads. Mostly eighteen year old freshmen, really - Academic newborns. He couldn't expect them to produce work at a doctoral level. But had he ever written such total crap when he was their age? Somehow, it didn't seem possible.

Taylor took another sip of his scotch, and glanced at his phone. He had successfully resisted looking at the picture for almost a day and a half. Now he was wondering what the point was in denying himself another glance. Certainly, there'd be no harm in just looking so long as he didn't act on it.

He picked up the phone and accessed the picture once more. Staring intently at the image, he attempted to put a face to that body. Who sat in the front of the class, watching him keenly as he lectured? It was impossible. There were too many candidates. The puzzle was going to drive him crazy.

He retrieved the note from his jacket pocket. He read the words again, instantly hardening at the mention of his student's arousal. His eyes went back and forth between the note and picture. His hand went to his jeans, rubbing his erection. If only he could feel those breasts beneath the lacy bra...

His hand slipped into his pants, massaging his cock. He knew he shouldn't, but in the privacy of his own apartment, who had to know? He thought about the navy blue panties the girl was wearing, slightly dampening as he lectured about John Donne. The girl in the class, somewhere, watching him with secret arousal.

In minutes Taylor stroked himself to climax. The force of it was surprising, as a white jet of cum shot from his cock onto his desk, messing the corner of one of the papers he was grading. Shit! He quickly wiped the sticky semen from the page with his hand. This was the kind of shit that could end his career.

He went to the kitchen and fetched some paper towels, vigorously wiping at the spot where his cum had landed. It wasn't really a large spot. Most of it had landed on the desk. Maybe the student wouldn't notice. Maybe they'd just think it was food or something. For good measure, he poured a few drops of his scotch over the stain. He looked at the name on the paper- Arturo Hernandez - and decided to bump his grade up from C to B+. Students don't complain when they get good grades.

***

Two weeks later, Taylor still hadn't reported the image on his phone. He wanted to, but he worried what might happen to him. Would they investigate him? Would they say that he encouraged it? Solicited erotic material from his students? What kind of trouble might he get into over this, even though it wasn't even his fault? He didn't ask for this. Besides, if he did nothing, probably it would just go away and be forgotten.

The trouble was in forgetting about it. Masturbating over the picture and note and fantasies about what might be, had become almost nightly occurrence for Taylor. In class, they had moved from John Donne to Shakespeare. As he explained the dirty jokes in Hamlet, he gazed out into his class, searching. Could it be the smiling blonde in the front row? Or the Asian girl three rows back? And who was that red-head in the back of the class? She seemed pretty attentive, didn't she?

"Fair thought to lie between a maiden's legs," he quoted, and thought about what lay between their legs, warm and damp. Whoever it was, they were watching him right now. He could feel their gaze on him. He was glad for the lectern to stand behind, hiding what would quickly become a pretty obvious erection.

Class ended. Most of the students shuffled out the door. A small entourage remained behind to discuss grades, or ask clarification for the next assignment, or seek confirmation of their opinion that Hamlet was proof that Shakespeare was a proto-existentialist.

Taylor couldn't help casting curious furtive glances at the female students' chests. It couldn't be the dark haired girl in glasses. Her breasts were too small. And it definitely wasn't the older lady, or the chubby girl with freckles - they were easy to rule out. But both the blonde and the Asian he'd seen earlier stayed behind, and maybe they had the right figures... He tried not to stare like a lecherous pervert. Obviously, he couldn't ask them directly. And if they were his secret admirer, they weren't giving him any clear hints either. It was hard to tell what might be hiding beneath their clothing.

He felt a little like Prince Charming, except instead of a glass slipper, he was searching for the owner of a gorgeous pair of tits. The thought made him laugh to himself, as he was walking back to his office with Craig.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing."

"You want to get some lunch?"

"Sorry, I can't," Taylor lied. "I have to finish writing this article. It's due by midnight tonight."

"Alright. Don't work too hard, though. Remember, academia is a marathon, not a sprint."

Taylor went back to his office, and pulled his phone out. He glanced at the body once more, trying to mentally match it to his female students. Impossible! He needed more information, more data. He growled with frustration. This was going to drive him crazy, he thought again. How was he supposed to teach like this?

Fishing the note from his pocket, he sat down at his desk. Pic 4 pic the note promised with an anonymous e-mail address. Taylor pondered his phone for ten minutes, trying to talk himself out of what he knew was inevitable. Finally, against all reason and better judgment, he stood, walked to his office door and locked it.

He stripped down to his boxer shorts, which he decided to leave on - his one concession to good sense. His heart was pounding. He picked up his phone and clicked a picture from the shoulders down. Taylor worked out pretty frequently at the gym and as a result had a pretty great body - his abs, pecs, delts, and glutes all had definition without being overly muscular.

He put his clothes back on, sat down again, and typed an e-mail message to

I should not be doing this. This is totally unprofessional. But your picture has been driving me nuts for a week now. I keep looking for you in class. Who are you? It doesn't seem fair that you know who I am, but I have no clue who you are. When can I find out?

Curiously,

T.

He attached the picture of himself to the email, and then hesitated. His thumb hovered over the send button for a minute. With resolution he finally pushed it. There was no taking it back, now. It was done.

***

Taylor spent the rest of the day obsessively keeping an eye on his e-mail. He was anxious, fearful, hopeful, paranoid, and optimistic all at once, and barely able to concentrate on work. Every e-mail notification brought a miniature panic attack. He regretted sending his picture. He shouldn't have done it. What was he thinking? Would she reveal herself, or would she turn him in? The word 'blackmail' had crossed his mind more than a few times.

Her reply came just before midnight. Taylor had been getting ready for bed, when the phone buzzed, announcing the e-mail. Seeing it was from her perked him up.

Dear Dr. Cheavis, I didn't think you were going to respond. You kept me waiting so long. That's not nice. Especially when you talk in class about Hamlet wanting to rest his head in Ophelia's lap... God!... Do you know how hard it was not to touch myself in the middle of class? How much torture it was to wait until I got home? That's what you do to me. Do you want to see more of me? I want to see more of you ;)

Attached were a pair of pictures. One was a close-up of her nipple - a stiff pink nub. Her fingers (blue-green nail polish, he noted) were caressing the breast teasingly just beneath it. The second picture showed spread knees beneath a brown skirt (he scanned his memory for which of his students had been wearing a brown skirt this morning, and came up empty), revealing a pair of pink cotton panties pulled tight against the lips so the crease between them was visible.

Blood rushed to Taylor's cock, instantly swelling it. He pressed his boxers down tight around it, so the outline was clearly visible against his thigh. He snapped a picture, and sent it immediately back with the message:

Is this what you wanted to see? This is what your pictures are doing to me. You're one naughty student.

T.

Within minutes the phone buzzed again.

Dear Dr. Sexy, Yes, I'm a very naughty student who badly needs to be taught a lesson.

Attached was another picture. In this one, she used a wall mirror to shoot herself from behind, bent over the side of a bed. In the image, her pink panties were around her knees, and her bare ass was sticking out from under her skirt. Her pink pussy peeked between her thighs. Taylor thought of plunging his cock inside of it. How hot and tight would she be in that position? From the look of it, he guessed very. Her face and hair were obscured by the angle of the shot.

Taylor's cock throbbed even harder. He freed it from his boxers, and began to stroke it, building up a small pearl of pre-cum at the tip of the purple head. He held his phone down by his thighs, getting his balls, the full length of the shaft, and the swollen head in the shot. Taylor didn't shave, but he kept his pubic hair trimmed short. He considered the picture for a second, and then sent it without a message.

He continued to stroke his erection, as he waited for her response. It came a few minutes later.

What a big beautiful cock you have, Dr. Cheavis! So sexy. I wish I could feel it inside me right now, filling me up.

Two more pictures accompanied this e-mail. The first was a close up of her pussy. It was pink, and shaved smooth. It looked so soft and small and beautiful. The lips glistened moistly with her arousal. The second picture was taken at the same angle as the first, but now her middle finger was buried to the second knuckle inside herself, as she used her other fingers with the blue-green nails to spread her lips apart revealing a deeper pink, clearly damp with her juices.

These new pictures pushed Taylor over the edge. He came hard, spilling his semen over his right hand and onto his bedroom floor. With his left, he picked up his phone again and took a couple of pictures of the aftermath.

See what you've done?

T.

For several minutes there was no response. Taylor cleaned up and wiped down with several tissues. Finally his phone buzzed.

OMG, Dr. Cheavis! Is that for me? Sexy AF! I'd love to lick and suck and swallow every drop of that down my throat. Fuck! I just came, too, thinking about it. Mmm. So good. I don't know how I'll concentrate in class now, just thinking about you and that amazing cock of yours.

Mmm.

Taylor responded back immediately.

Who is this? It's killing me not to know.

T.

She wrote back a few seconds later.

Just your secret admirer, Dr. Cheavis. See you in class ;)

Taylor sighed, and set down his phone. He switched off the bedroom light, lay his head back on the pillow, and did not sleep.

***

In one sense, Monday's lecture on Hamlet, wasn't very sexy. They'd reached the end of the play in which the body count skyrocketed, including the perpetually indecisive Prince of Denmark himself.

In another sense, it was one of the most erotic experiences of Taylor's life. He thought he'd narrowed it down to the blonde in front, and the redhead in the back. The Asian girl, pretty as she was, just didn't give off that sexy vibe. But both the other girls seemed to watch him closely. All the while his mind kept returning to the e-mail exchange. It had been nearly a week since they'd last been in contact, and in that time, Taylor had pretty much memorized every detail of the photos she'd sent. The images kept flashing in his mind as he spoke.

In particular he thought of the picture of her pussy, glistening with arousal. Was she aroused now? Was she holding back the urge to touch herself as she watched him at the front of the class. It was an urge they both shared. If only his students would just look the other way while he masturbated here in public for her. It was a crazy impossible fantasy, but it still caused Taylor to take cover behind his lectern in order to hide the growth at his crotch.

To make matters worse, Taylor had decided to go without underwear today. The idea of being as unconstrained as possible (without alarming his students) was a turn on. He knew his cock would be slightly more distinguishable through his pants as he moved at the front of the class. While many of his students might not notice, he was sure it would catch her attention. He wanted to tease her, to turn her on, hoping she might give herself away. However, as he scanned the class, he still wasn't sure. Blonde? Redhead?... Maybe someone else?...

At the end of class, the students turned in an assignment - a reflection paper relating one of the themes from Hamlet to their personal lives. Each of them shuffled towards the front of the class and deposited their pages on the lectern. A few of them even acknowledged him, and the usual entourage remained behind.

The Blonde was one of the students who stayed back. She dominating the discussion, exclaiming how wonderful she thought the assignment had been - how personally meaningful it was. She hoped that he would really enjoy reading her paper. Taylor became secretly excited thinking about what the paper contained - maybe a detailed erotic confession to him.

The redhead dropped her paper, turned and left without a word. He watched her go, admiring the way her ass moved in her tight jeans. Could it be the same ass he'd seen bent over in front of the mirror? Her figure seemed to match, but that might be an effect of the pants. It was so hard to tell.

The blonde continued to enthuse about how much she really enjoyed his class. Though her words were neutral, she exuded a natural youthful sexuality as she spoke. As she talked, a student with shoulder length black hair approached the lectern. She was one of the last. He vaguely recognized her as one who usually sat in the middle rows, but she rarely spoke in class and didn't draw much attention to herself.

As the dark-haired student laid her paper on top of the others, she gave him a smile. It could have just been friendly, but there was something vaguely behind it, a kind of recognition of a shared secret between them. Taylor glanced down at her hand. Blue-green fingernails! He was certain they were the same as the ones in the pictures. They landed next to her name on the paper, Jess Wilcox.

"Have a good day, Dr. Cheavis," Jess said.

"Thanks," Taylor responded, doing his best to control his shock.

As she walked away, he gazed at her figure. It certainly seemed to fit - a tight t-shirt over the perfectly round breasts, a nicely curved ass, and the slender legs beneath her skirt - not brown this time, but plaid and pleated, like a school-girl's, descending two thirds of the way to her knees.

"Dr. Cheavis, are you alright?" the blonde asked, as if finally taking notice of him.

"Huh?" Taylor answered, rudely drawn back into the present.

"You look like you just saw the ghost of your father," the blonde said jokingly.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Taylor stammered. "I'm really glad you like the class," he continued, finding his grounding. "It means a lot to hear that from students. Listen, I've got an appointment I need to get to, but I'll see you Wednesday, alright?"

"Okay, Dr. Cheavis," the blonde said. "Hope you have a great day."

She left him to pack the papers into his brief-case. She was cute, for sure, but she wasn't his admirer. He thought again of Jess Wilcox, the subtle slyness behind her smile. Did she know he suspected her? Had she carefully planned his discovery by providing these clues? Taylor shook his head. She was just a student playing a game was all. He smiled at the idea of turning the tables on her.

***

Another exchange of e-mails similar to the first ensued Monday night. To throw her off, he professed to still be unaware and desperate to know her identity. She teased him, acknowledging she had noticed his lack of underwear, and that she'd been turned on when she handed him her paper. Being so physically close to him, it was all she could do to keep from jumping him right then and there. But she continued to refuse to reveal her identity to him - only candid images of her beautiful naked body and fantasies of what might happen if they were together.

In the meantime, Taylor sent Jess an e-mail asking to meet to discuss her paper - not to her anonymous e-mail, but to her official student e-mail. He scheduled the appointment for late Friday afternoon, when most of the other faculty and staff would already have left for the weekend. In the e-mail he tried to use a tone that insinuated he was displeased with her work - even though in looking back at past assignments, she was actually one of the top performers in the class. There certainly wasn't anything objectionable in the paper she'd turned in this time. Nevertheless:

Ms. Wilcox,

I would like to meet with you regarding the paper you turned in on Monday. There are a few issues with your writing I wish to discuss with you in person. Please be at my office at 4:30 on Friday.

Sincerely,

Dr. Cheavis

Now, it was Friday. Taylor waited anxiously for the girl. He'd worn his best shirt, tie, and slacks. Once again, he decided to forego underwear. He neatened and organized his office, as much to give her the impression of his authority as to distract himself from his thoughts of her.

At 4:35, there was a soft tapping at the door. Taylor stood, straightened his clothes one final time, and answered it. On the other side stood Jess Wilcox. She was dressed nicely in a light tan skirt falling to mid-thigh, and a form-fitting dark blue tank top, with a neck line that only gave a slight hint of cleavage beneath. The overall effect was subtly sexy, without giving the impression of sluttiness.

"You wanted to see me, Dr. Cheavis?" Jess asked. She seemed nervous. Taylor was unsure if it was because she knew he had found her out, or if she really believed she was in trouble.

"Yes, Ms. Wilcox. Please come in and have a seat."

She entered his office and sat down in one of the plastic chairs he kept for students. Taylor pulled up his own office chair, and sat down facing her. She looked at him, trying to appraise him. He tried his best to keep a passive face, though he enjoyed watching her squirm.

"Ms. Wilcox, do you know why I asked you here?"

"You said it was about my paper."

"Hmm, yes...the paper..."

Taylor leaned back in his seat. Jess crossed her legs prettily. The movement of her smooth white thighs, caught his attention, and the small brief gap between them... It was just a quick glance, but when he reconnected with her eyes, she was regarding him curiously.

"Is there something wrong with my paper?" Jess asked.

"Wrong?" Taylor returned. "Why would you say that?"

"It's just that you said you wanted to talk about my paper, so I thought I might be in trouble."

"In trouble?" Taylor echoed. "Well, it was about your paper, but also, it's about the class."

"What did I do in class?" she asked.

She uncrossed her legs again, with both feet on the ground, her knees parted slightly, but not enough to be revealing or even suggestive. Still, as Taylor watched her, he kept thinking of the pictures. The breasts, and ass, and smooth wet pussy. His cock twitched in his pants. He noticed her gaze drifted to his crotch. He was sure she caught the small movement. There was a faint smile playing at her lips.

"You didn't do anything," Taylor said. His heart was pounding in his chest. "That's entirely the point."

Her knees leaned a little farther apart. Taylor's cock was becoming more prominent beneath the material of his slacks as blood flowed to it. Jess's eyes were now fixated on the growing bulge. Slowly, Taylor leaned forward.

"I think you could be more engaged," he said.

"More engaged?" Jess repeated.

"Mhm."

Taylor, reached out and placed his hands on her knees. If he was wrong about her, he was fully aware that he could kiss his career goodbye, and probably say hello to any number of lawsuits. But he didn't think he was wrong. Slowly his hands began to slide up her thighs. There was no resistance on her part. Instead, Jess parted her legs further.

"After our other conversations," Taylor continued, "I thought perhaps you'd like to be much more engaged."

"How did you figure it out?" Jess asked. A surprised smile was blooming across her face as his hands continued to slide beneath her skirt, and into the darkness below.

"You finger nails," Taylor explaineded. "I recognized the colour."

"Oh," she said. She held her hands out in front of her, examining them. And then again, "Oh!' as Taylors finger tips finally encountered her panties. They were absolutely soaked. He could feel her moist heat radiating from them, as he rubbed the damp cotton. Jess spread her legs wide, allowing him full access. Her breathing became heavier as he stimulated her firm clit through her underwear. His own erection had grown rock hard in his pants. Jess reached out to touch it, exclaiming "Oh!" a third time, as she caressed the length of it.

"Stand up," Taylor ordered, withdrawing his hand from her skirt. Jess stood. She gazed at him with longing. "Take it out."

Jess's finger went eagerly to the front of his pants, unzipping them. She reached inside, wrapped her fingers around his girth, and pulled it out into the florescent light of his office.

"Is it like you imagined?" Taylor asked.

"Better," Jess admitted, instinctively stroking it. "You have a beautiful cock, Dr. Cheavis. You wouldn't believe how much I've been thinking about it all semester. Watching it move as you walked back and forth in front of the class."

"Good."

As much as Taylor enjoyed the way her hands worked at his cock, pumping it, and caressing his balls, he told her to stop.

"Turn around," he demanded. Jess turned, facing the desk. "Bend over."

Jess obediently, leaned across his desk. Taylor stood behind her, admiring the way her skirt draped over her ass, hinting, but not quite revealing. He bent down over her, letting her feel his rock hard cock press through the skirt between her buttocks. His hands slid up her outer thighs, hooked into the waist of her black cotton panties, and yanked them down to her knees.

"You've been driving me crazy for weeks, Ms. Wilcox," Taylor said sternly.

He flipped up the back of her skirt, revealing her bare white ass. He admired the view of it, and the fact that her underwear dangled between her knees added an element of sluttiness to it. It was almost like the picture she'd sent. Of all of them, that was the one that turned him on the most.

"As you said," Taylor continued leisurely. He then recited the line from one of her e-mails. "You're a very naughty student who badly needs to be taught a lesson."

"Mmm, yes, Dr. Cheavis," Jess agreed, playing along. "I'm a very bad student. Please teach me."

Taylor smacked Jess once on each buttock, with a loud crack. Each time Jess whimpered sexily. Then he pressed himself against her. He felt his cock slipping between her thighs, wetting in the juices of her arousal.

"Please, teach me to be a good student," Jess begged.

Taylor, took hold of his cock, and guided it to her entrance. She swore - not loudly, but with intensity - as he pushed his head inside of her. He couldn't believe how amazing she felt. Her eighteen-year-old pussy gripped his cock tightly while her juices lubricated his passage. He slid slowly into her the full length, then out again savoring every sensation.

Soon he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Pounding his hips into her ass, his balls slapping against her clit. They tried to stay quiet in case anyone remained in the building, but Taylor knew anyone listening closely could overhear them. He didn't care. He was completely focused on fucking his young sexy, black-haired student. Filling her up with his cock, just like she'd asked him to over late-night e-mails.

After several minutes of amazing fucking, Taylor pulled out of the student.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Jess spun around and hopped on the desk with her skirt riding up around her hips. Her panties, which had fallen to her ankles dropped onto the floor. She spread her legs wide, inviting his cock back inside her. Taylor undid his pants completely, letting them fall to the ground. He stepped out of them and towards her. His cock peeked through his shirt tails like a sniper's rifle through window curtains.

Taylor, ran his fingers up Jess's little hot pink slit to her clitoris. She groaned as he rubbed circles around it. The skin above her pussy was so soft and smooth, hot pink and shining wet with the juices of their fucking. He dropped to his knees, wanting to taste her. His tongue darted out to lap at her juices. He gave a long broad lick from bottom to top, finishing with a kiss of her clit. This caused Jess to squeal, barely restrained.

Her arms reached behind her to support her body as she leaned further back. After a minute, Taylor stood once more and positioned himself in front of her. They both looked down as he guided his cock into her hot little pussy again. As she took him in, each gave a small grunt of pleasure.

Taylor resumed fucking her, this time enjoying the look of her face each time he thrust into her. He wanted to see her tits. He reached down, and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, lifting it up to her armpits and over her breasts. Her bra was a cute black demi-cup. With one hand she unhooked it. She sat up, and pulled it loose from her shirt, tossing it across the office.

With her breasts now free, Taylor leaned forward, and took one into his mouth, licking and sucking at the firm pink nipple. Then he turned his attention to the other. All the while he continued to move in and out of Jess at a strong, rapid stroke.

"Shit, Dr. Cheavis," she said breathlessly, as he squeezed both her tits hard. "If you keep fucking me like this, I'm going to cum all over your big fucking cock."

"Yes," Taylor groaned back at her. "Cum for your teacher. Show me you've learned your lesson, you naughty goddam student."

Within a minute, Jess tilted her head, and arched her back. She growled loudly as her body began to quiver and spasm all around him. The sensation of her orgasm drove Taylor over the edge. He couldn't hold back any longer. He gave one final hard thrust into the girl, going as deep as he could, and felt himself release his load. Shot after shot of cum pumped from the center of his balls deep into Jess's teenaged pussy.

As their orgasms faded, Taylor rested inside of Jess, enjoying lingering sensation of her pussy. Both of them were panting hard. Taylor was hypnotized by the rise and fall of Jess's breasts as she caught her breath.

"Fuck, Dr. Cheavis," Jess said, "That was amazing."

"I think you can call me Taylor, now."

"I've never had anything like that before... Taylor," Jess said, being sure to address him by his first name.

Taylor regarded her, wondering how much experience she'd actually had as an eighteen year old. He decided he didn't really want to know.

"I've been wanting to do that for a month," he said. "Ever since you sent me the first picture on my phone."

"To be honest, I didn't even plan for this to happen," Jess admitted. "It started just as having fun. Tease the professor, you know? I didn't think you'd ever figure out who I was. I guess I should have been more careful."

"Do you wish you'd been more careful now?" Taylor inquired, feeling slightly wounded. His cock had softened considerably, and he finally pulled out of the young student. A dribble of their juices ran down her thigh, over the edge of his desk, and splashed on the floor.

"No, not really," Jess said, wiping herself with a tissue from his desk. "Even though I never meant it to go this far, I meant what I said in those e-mails. I really do get turned on in your class - You're really good looking, and the way you talk about literature with so much passion - It's totally fucking hot. Now, I'm going to be even more turned on watching you. I don't know how I'm going to be able to even concentrate."

"Maybe you'll need some extra help outside of class?" Taylor said with a grin.

"Yeah maybe..." Jess agreed, pulling her shirt down and straightening her clothing. Then, catching on to his insinuation, she corrected herself, "Probably. In fact, I'd say it's pretty certain I'd need more help."

"Well, then, why don't we make Friday afternoon tutoring a regular thing for the rest of the semester?" Taylor asked her, pulling his pants back on.

"That would be great!"

"But I think next time we can find a space that's more conducive to studying... like my apartment, perhaps?"

"Definitely," Jess agreed happily.

She picked up her bra and panties from the floor and stuffed them into her bag. Taylor gazed at her, taking Jess in. The skirt seemed slightly shorter now, more revealing, and her nipples were poking through her shirt. Her hair was slightly messy, and her face still had a flush to it. He almost wanted to fuck her all over again, but decided to wait until next week's 'study session.'

"Until then, I have a special assignment for you," he said.

"What?" Jess asked.

"Monday, I want to see you in the front row."

"Okay?" Jess agreed uncertainly. "Is that it?"

"One more thing," Taylor added. "I expect you to be without panties."

An understanding smile spread over the student's face.

"I can do that," she agreed enthusiastically.

"Great," Taylor said formally. "I'll see you Monday, Ms. Wilcox."

"You bet you will, Dr. Cheavis," Jess responded excitedly with a cute wink. "And thanks for the private lesson... Taylor."