When I first saw Ansley in my class, I sensed something about her. Was it some kind of subliminal “radar” that picked up on her sexual appetites, or was it just my overactive imagination?

Ansley was slender of build, petite, and soft-spoken but assertive. She had a common female college student casual look, usually wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Her vibe was feminine but with a sprinkle of tomboy. Her few visible piercings and tattoos matched her quirky, lighthearted personality.  

She was pursuing a career in Marine Biology, and my English Lit class was just fulfilling a graduation requirement. So, I appreciated how she stayed engaged during class, commenting or answering my questions. Through several conversations, it became obvious she had a sharp mind and was capable of grasping deeper concepts. She had the natural curiosity and hunger to learn that always energized me as a professor.

Due to her schedule, she always came early to the room and then often stayed after class to ask questions about assignments. I got to know her little by little, just making friendly conversation before anyone else arrived. When we started working on the course writing project, she followed my guidance to pick a topic that would really interest her and be fun. She became passionate about the assignment, and so our conversations centered on her ideas and how to express them. Several times in these after-class discussions, she brought her laptop up and set it on my desk so we could look at what she was working on side-by-side.

I started wondering what the signs would be that a young woman was attracted to? The frequent hair flips, the coy smile, the lingering eye contact, the little bit of banter, and her comfort in being so close to me? Body language is not an exact science. I kept dismissing it as her friendly personality and wishful thinking on my part. Given our age difference, it seemed so unlikely.

Still, the thought haunted me that she might harbor a secret attraction to me. I knew some young women were turned on by older men. I had previously had a fling with a submissive woman 30 years younger. The fling, which went on for months, with sporadic sessions, featured spankings, bondage, and her submission to my dominance. She said my age, maturity, and confidence had been huge turn-ons for her.

Was it possible in this case? How would I know, and what would I do? I felt reluctant to do anything in the way of being flirty or initiating any kind of invitation because of the uncertainty involved and the consequences if I had guessed wrong. I knew it was against professional ethics and the college faculty rules. I knew that I had no desire to try to coerce her or take advantage of my position. I really liked her as a person and a student, and the last thing I wanted was to come across like some creepy old guy and ruin all that.

Nevertheless, I did not seem to have control over what my mind did. Stark, vivid sexual images of her and me invaded my thoughts at times when I saw her in class or when we were talking. I saw her big eyes looking up at me, kneeling submissively, naked, and eager to please. As my eyes passed over her, I could not stop noticing and re-noticing her youthfully tiny waist and the way her jeans hugged her firm ass. In my mind, she was undressing for me, and I imagined the reveal of her ass and vulva between her ass cheeks as she glanced over her shoulder and lowered a pair of pink Hello Kitty panties.

I found myself mentally running through all the things I could teach a precocious, fresh, intelligent young woman like her. She was not underage and very likely no virgin. I guessed that the boys in her age bracket were not likely to have the wealth of experience and knowledge that I had acquired by that point in my life. I thought about how little I knew when I was young and how much I had learned through accumulated experiences. I thought about the women my age, many of whom sometimes only had limited experience with incredible sex before meeting me, and how grateful they were when I introduced them to experiences they had not believed possible. I imagined how Ansley would blossom if I could introduce her to these things. That delicious thought of being her mentor and teacher in this very intimate dimension of her life, and introducing her to a world of sexual wonders, gripped me.

In class, I found my eye contact with her lingering. My little “Spidey sense” was tingling just slightly. It felt like a spark between us, but also so uncertain. My rational brain went back and forth on it. I resolved to just continue in my role as a helpful and friendly professor, giving guidance with class-related stuff but also taking a degree of interest in her and her life whenever it was appropriate.

One day, with her laptop on my desk again, while discussing her project, her hip brushed my arm and shoulder. While she was swaying just slightly, and the contact could have been accidental, it felt startling and exciting to me. We both carried on like nothing had happened. It was probably nothing, I thought, trying to focus on what we were discussing.

Then her hip lingered just a little, and I felt just the tiniest pressure. This sent another surge of excitement through me. Instead of shifting slightly away, like one might naturally do if the contact was accidental, I stayed there, allowing the contact to continue. She shifted a little, moving her feet like she was fidgety, but rather than move away from the contact, her hips just rubbed me ever so slightly. I felt a flush of alarm and arousal course through me.

Something she said made me want to look up a particular point, so I started typing on my keyboard, looking at my monitor, which was straight in front of me.

“Here,” I said, “Take a look at this.”

Following my instructions, she bent forward just a little more, turning toward me, her shoulder now rubbing mine. It was closer than necessary, and I caught a whiff of her fragrance. In the corner of my eye, I realized that as she bent forward, the front of her top was hanging down. I couldn’t see anything, but I could tell, that if I turned my head, I would be able to see down her shirt. The pull to look was overpowering, and the tension between us felt as thick as the lump in my throat. I paused, losing my train of thought about her paper, my heart pounding now.

This was it. There’s no way that she could not be aware of her exposure, and there was no way she would fail to notice if I turned my head. The room seemed suddenly quiet, and I noticed the soft blowing sound of the HVAC vent far away. Slowly, I turned, time seeming to slow down. My eyes were being pulled to look into the yawning opening. My eyes traveled down her delicate neck and clavicles, down her chest to her small bra, lacy and white, covering her firm petite breasts. I could see all the way to her pierced navel and the top of her jeans.

She turned her head toward me, and I looked up at her, and we held that eye contact for several long seconds. Her lips were parted slightly, and a little smile played along the corners of her mouth.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked in a small voice that trembled slightly.

I nodded slowly in response. Her smile deepened. I realized I was holding my breath. My eyes returned to her body.

"Go lock the door and turn out the lights," I told her quietly..

That was it. It was happening! I felt a mix of relief and blinding excitement, and also a rising fever of lust and arousal.

With the lights off and shade trees dappling the window blinds, the room became defused in a soft, grey, sensual light. I watched her intently, expectantly, wondering where this was going to go. I knew what I wanted, but it was not as clear what she would want.

She kept her eyes averted as she came back from the door and light switches, her face partly hidden by her hair. She came around to my side of the desk again and stood facing me, eyes downward still, waiting. I looked her over slowly, enjoying the view of the small mounds under her t-shirt, her bare flat midriff, and how her jeans curved, hugging her trim hips.

I reached out and took her hand.

“Ansley,” I said slowly, as she looked up into my eyes, “I am going to touch you. You can stop me at any time.”

Her eyes widened, and she smiled shyly, nodding.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered hoarsely, her beautiful brown eyes wide in anticipation. She had called me “sir” in class or in a conversation here or there, and I liked that, but this felt different.

“Turn toward the desk again,” I directed, “and lean over like you were.”

“Mmm…Yes,” I continued as she complied, “That’s it. Good girl.”

I rolled my chair back a few inches, more behind her, and took her in with my eyes as my hands slid over her hips and ass.

“Now, “ I said, “I want you to unbutton your jeans and slide them down.”

She looked at me, but then slowly complied, releasing the top button of her jeans, the zipper making a tick-tick sound. Then she was sliding them over her hips and down to her knees, bending slightly.

As the back of her jeans descended over her hips and down, I was thrilled to see the satin black panties covering her ass. This was a whole new level of intimacy between us, and my senses engorged on the stimulation. I caught the slightest faint whiff of her scent. It was that of a woman aroused but also fresh and sweet at the same time. I imagined how she was getting wet under the black fabric covering the mound of her vulva.

With both hands I ran the tip of each index finger along the seam of each leg opening of her panties, from her hips down between her ass cheeks to where the mound of her pussy was covered. From there I stroked down her inner thighs.

“Spread your legs,” I directed to her, and she complied after stepping one foot out of her jeans.

I stroked the back of her thighs and up and over her bare hips. She felt firm and pliant under my fingers. I spend some time like that, just touching her bare skin like that, exploring her, memorizing her, painting her with the tips of my fingers. I intended to tease her body, wake up her nerve endings, and let her arousal build until she got to that point of wanting me in her. She dropped her head slightly, letting her hair fall over her face, and accepting her role of feeling the sensations.

“I love your ass,” I said in a low husky voice, “Just feel my hands now. I am going to explore all these beautiful places on your body.”

She moaned quietly in response, arching, tilting her head up, eyes closed, and my hands continued.

Moving between her thighs, I stroked up and down the extra-sensitive skin, marveling at its silky feel. Each stroke brought my teasing fingers closer to the edge of her panties and her covered vulva. Her hips twitched, and I knew that her body was awakening and an ache was growing. I was in no hurry, wanting to draw out this moment as long as I could. She shifted her hips again; this time, it felt like impatience.

“Professor,” she breathed, “Please touch me.” I knew what she meant. “I love how that feels, but please….”

My fingers lingered along the hem of her panties, stroking that skin at the very top of her thigh, along the crease between her ass and thigh, then along the crease between her inner thigh and pelvis. She groaned again, pushing her hips back as if trying to get more contact, but I just moved my hand with her, not allowing her any increase in pressure or sensation.

I let the back of my hand graze over her panty-covered mound, over one side, over her puffy outer labia. Rotating my wrist, I stroke the other side, avoiding her clit and inner labia. She moved again, but I just rode her movement, denying her any increase except what I allowed her to feel.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped and moaned. “I want you to touch me more, sir.”

I felt pleased at her use of the word, “sir,” and how it hinted that she had the submissive inclination I craved.

“All in good time, baby,” I said as my fingers continued stroking the panties, edging closer to the ridge in the middle.

“Arch your back a little more,” I instructed, and to my delight, she immediately complied.

With two fingers I stroked over the satin of her panties, with the ridge of her clit shaft and inner labia between.

“Ahhh,” she breathed, shuddering.

“You like that?” I said unnecessarily as I continued stroking back and forth, wanting to hear her say it.

“Yes, sir,” she said, looking back at me.

“Good,” I said, “Now slowly lower your panties. I want to see you.”

Without hesitation, her hands went to her sides, grabbed her panties on each side, and then, remembering what I said about doing it slowly, began to slide them down.

She turned as she lowered them, biting her lower lip in a small smile. It pleased me to note that she was getting into her role as my little vixen, understanding that I wanted her to present herself to me in an alluring, enticing way.

I sucked in my breath as she bared herself to me. First I saw the crinkled star of her asshole, surrounded by the raised muscle of her anus, which was situated within a slight depression between her tight round ass cheeks. The skin around her anus was just a slightly darker hue than the rest of her ass, which was paler than the rest of her body with a vague tan line showing where she had worn her bikini bottoms. Below her perineum, in that space at the base of her ass cheeks, the split mounds of her outer labia bulged out. Between her outer labia, her labia minor protruded slightly. The slightly dark pink flesh glistened with her seeping arousal fluid.

Ansley lowered her panties further, down her thighs, and let go of them just below her knees so that they dropped around her ankles.

“Good girl,” I whispered as I looked her over slowly, “You look so delicious. I want to eat you up!”

She giggled, wiggling her ass at the same time. Fucking adorable, I thought.

Both of my hands explored her again, enjoying the firm feel of her ass, and the trim flare of her young hips. Bared to me, I took liberties to touch her, but I also resolved to tease again, to build her anticipation.

“Spread your legs,” I directed in a low, firm voice, and she complied, stepping out of her panties with one foot to widen her stance.

“Now, lower your chest down to the desk,” and she slid her now-closed laptop off to the side before lowering herself and arching.

“Good girl. Reach back and spread your ass cheeks open,” I continued, “Yes, with both hands. I want you to show me everything. 

My hands moved together in symmetry over her body, and my fingertips slid along the widened crack of her ass, slowing as they so lightly grazed over the adorable rosebud of her anus. She was squeaky clean back there, I noticed, as my fingers traveled lower.

With her legs spread, her outer labia parted, and her inner labia hung more prominently between. In the dim light, I saw her darker inner labia better. Wavy and slender, these delicate petals of her beautiful flower parted just slightly. The delicate doorways to her inner sanctum were opening for me.

I used both hands to stroke the insides of her thighs again, moving them up along that crease, back and forth for a while. She breathed deeper, wiggling her hips as my finger explored. I kept my pace slow, enjoying each stroke, and rubbed slowly and firmly over her outer labia. I moved my face closer to her cunt and used the pressure on her outer labia to spread her open slightly, so I could peer further into her wet pink vagina. Her anus twitched and winked as I opened her. She moaned and sucked in a ragged long breath, panting a little and shifting her feet.

Her fragrance filled my nostrils, and I breathed in through my nose to saturate my mind with her pheromones.

“You smell amazing,” I said in a low voice, “It’s making me salivate. I want to taste you.”

Keeping her head down on the desk, submitting to this close examination, she meekly said, “Yes, sir,” in a slightly shaky, quiet voice.

Instead, though I blew lightly, right into her, between her parted wet petals, and she jerked a bit in surprise.

“Ahhh,” she stammered, “oh, my God.”

I reach up then and stroked her clit hood then with my right index fingertip, just so slightly, starting from high on the clit shaft, down toward her clit.

“Ahhh, aaahhh,” she exclaimed, and I could see the pulses in her vagina and anus.

I slid two fingers of each hand back and forth between her inner labia, letting them slide just slightly into her wetness, causing her hot slickness to thickly coat my digits. Her ragged breathing increased to panting, and then her moans and cries became continuous, in time with my strokes.

Then, a few moments after letting this sensation build for her, I pushed two fingers of one hand into her, and with the other, I stroked...