tagAnalLove Me. Hate Me. Fuck Me?

Love Me. Hate Me. Fuck Me?

bygradprof©

It is time for something new. Once again, thank you for the comments and feedback. You guys have really motivated me to jot down my thoughts. Special thank you's go out to Dr. Lust and MyKittyStar, who took the time to edit my work. Both of you made some great suggestions. Feel free to send me your thoughts. I will respond. I'd love to hear where you think this should go next (if it should go anywhere). I am submitting this for the Halloween Contest, so don't forget to vote. Enjoy.

*

"Hey Lindsay, how's it going?" I asked.

The brunette student sat on the floor outside my office. She was studying a page of class scribblings that had been transcribed into a dog-eared, spiral-ringed notebook. Even in the dim half-light of the hallway I could make out her lush and curvy form. Whoa! This girl knocked the wind out of my lungs. I had spent several sweaty nights recreating her image in myriad naughty ways.

She was wearing velvety, powder-blue sweat pants and a matching zip up hoodie. My bet was that the word "Juicy" was stenciled onto her pert butt (indeed it was juicy). The hoodie zipper was half way down, revealing a plain, white tank top. Two luscious mounds of premium, coed, sweater meat were barely held in check by that thin layer of cotton.

Oh to forget my place and bury my face in that soft, swelling flesh! To nurse, to lick, to nuzzle -- the dream could barely be contained. Those tits were bursting with squishy goodness. Would it be so wrong for a professor to have his way with one of his students? Who would really be harmed?

I would rip down the metal tang of the zipper with my teeth, slide the coat off her shoulders, and briskly pull the tank top over her head. And there she would be, free and available, her chest unfettered by clothing. I would hold those tits, those magnificent tits, in my hands. The delicate weight of her breasts would rest in my open palms. Her nipples -- those crinkled, pink gumdrops -- would stare up at me.

Right there in the hall, I would grope and squeeze her boobs in childlike delight. My hands would gleefully memorize every inch of her creamy skin. And she would moan, ecstasy dripping from her throat. My fingers would send electric ripples coursing through her flesh. A tweak and a pinch: her nipples would crinkle and harden under my touch. The space between us would evaporate; our bodies would press together, grinding and moving to a simultaneous, driving beat.

Humping with lust in the dimly lit corridor, we would be propelled into one another. Our bottoms would grind, pressing into a desperate need. The friction would become too much for us to take. From this moment the end would be inevitable.

Fumbling in my pocket, I would find my keys and unlock my office door. We would stumble into my poorly lit cavern, throwing books and papers callously -- wantonly -- to the floor. A surface would be what we craved; a place was necessary from which we would consecrate our passion. Her thin fingers would hook into the waistband of the sweats, pulling them downward in a fluid motion. A garden of delights would await me. She would hop up and spread her legs. A more beautiful sight could not be imagined. She would be moist and dripping, spread slightly in preparation for my cock. I would slide into that delicious pink, feeling an incredible rapturous bliss. Everything would be wet. Everything would be warm. Everything would be soft.

And then we would fuck. And fuck! AND FUCK! Rutting against each other, our sweat mixing, we would writhe and pulsate. Flesh would hit flesh in a timeless dance. And we would cum, clutching each other in need and desperation. Satisfaction, that elusive songbird, would find us for that moment. And we would bask in its temporary glow.

"Oh hey, Professor Matthews," Lindsay said, looking up from her studies. The dream faded from reality. It was only at that moment that I noticed the fake cat ears resting on Lindsay's head. Her dark, brown hair was pulled back through a scrunchie into an adorable ponytail. Over Lindsay's face was black make-up that had been drawn into a button nose and whiskers.

"Halloween costume?" I asked, trying to regain control. I didn't want to lose it there in the hallway.

"Meow," she replied, beaming up at me. "Yeah it's just like a start, though. I'm gonna do a lot more. I have a tail and everything at home. I didn't want to walk around campus in that get-up, though. It's too cold. Anyway, but I figured that I get started early. It's never too early to get into the Halloween spirit, right professor?"

"If you say so," I said, chuckling to myself lightly. "You never know when you might get visited by the Great Pumpkin." Lindsay giggled. Her entire body shook deliciously. I wanted to ravish her on the cold linoleum of the hallway.

If I knew the students, tonight -- Halloween -- would be one of the biggest party nights of the year.

A wave of nostalgia overcame me. I missed my Halloweens past. There was no better time to ogle women. Tonight they would be on the prowl, all competing to out-slut the others. Halloween costumes were a no-hold's barred opportunity for women to sex it up without losing their dignity. After dressing like a Playboy Bunny, the woman could claim the next day that it was just a costume. Nothing was meant by it. The holiday demanded a little skin. No harm, no foul.

And sometimes, if one played their cards right, that guy could get lucky. I warmly remembered several sluts of Halloweens past: a nurse, a cheerleader, some Disney princess. On Halloween the rules were meant to be bent. Nookie was just the natural conclusion of the costume.

I think Lindsay saw my wistful daydream of escapades past, and mistook the expression for disgust. "Oh come on. Don't be a spoilsport, Professor Mathews. Halloween is totally fun," Lindsay said brightly, shaking me out of my reverie.

She batted her eyelashes and I was entranced. "When else can a girl totally dress up however she likes, with no regrets and no worries? Halloween is like a free pass to totally cut loose. The rest of my outfit I probably could never wear on any other night but tonight. I plan to have some fun."

Lindsay precisely echoed my thoughts. I grinned as I imagined what the rest of the outfit looked like. What kind of cat would she be? A naughty kitty? A bad kitty? Would Lindsay purr if she was stroked the right way? The possibilities were mind melting.

I had to get off this subject; it could only get me in trouble. I asked, "You look like you have been waiting for awhile. I'm sorry about that; time got away from me. Are you here about your paper? If so you are beating the rush." Students had a tendency to procrastinate. They would be beating down my door two days before the due date.

"Naaah, that's under control. I think I know, like, what I'm doing with that," Lindsay said, waving her hand. "That stuff you were talking about in class on Weber sounded pretty interesting. I think I'm going to write on that."

"Cool," I replied.

Lindsay nodded, packed up her notebook, and then put it into her bag. She shrugged and said, "I've actually been waiting to see Professor Halloway." Lindsay gestured at the office which was directly across the hall from mine. A disgruntled frown spread across her face.

"Did you have an appointment?"

"Yeah, she said she would meet me here and that was supposed to be a half hour ago." I could clearly see tension, but Lindsay was doing here best to hold it back. She continued, "You haven't seen her, have you?"

"Sorry," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I wish I could help."

"Crap," Lindsay muttered. She looked miffed. "This is the third time she's ditched me. Unfortunately, I gotta head off to another class. I can't stick around any longer. Can you let her know that I was here waiting for her?"

"Sure. If I see her, I'll tell her."

"Oh thank you," Lindsay said gushing. She spoke with such enthusiasm I couldn't help but think naughty thoughts. "I appreciate it Professor. I gotta fly."

And then Lindsay was gone....

*****

I was not surprised that Lynn Halloway was late.

She and I joined the Communications Department at the same time. Both of us were placed on temporary contracts that were good through the end of the school year. After that, our status was anyone's guess.

The gossip was that a full time position that was opening up in May. One of the old codgers, a true dinosaur, was going to be retiring. A replacement position would almost certainly be in order. The job would be tenure track, and with all likelihood the recipient would eventually become a full Professor

Unfortunately, it looked like there would only be one job. Lynn and I knew this when we came on board. We understood that we were essentially being given a year-long extended interview by the Department Head. We also were very aware that we were the other person's biggest rival. They would not go looking elsewhere unless we both screwed up. Only one person would get the job, and we both wanted it -- bad!

Before I signed onto the year as a visiting professor, I was aware that the job would be competitive. I didn't know, however, that I wouldn't be able to fucking stand Lynn Halloway.

I'm convinced that there are some people out there with whom I am just not meant to get along. Lynn certainly fell into this category. Every time I was near her, I felt the sensation of nails on a chalk board. Her voice crawled under my skin; her presence gave me chills. From our first meeting I found Lynn Halloway to be cold, demeaning, and callous. She spoke only few words, but had an icy, Nurse Ratchet glare that cut to the quick. Voice a contradictory opinion, and with a single look she would make you feel like an idiot to the core. Her game was simple. She was smart; everyone else was stupid. The world was that stark and obvious.

From what I understood Lynn was a brilliant researcher, but that didn't forgive (in my mind) her total disregard of the student body. Yes, I ogled certain "assets" of some of my students, but I worked hard to keep those thoughts to myself. I didn't leer or make inappropriate statements. The dirty movies in my mind certainly didn't affect anything I did in the classroom.

Lynn's actions (in my opinion) were far less excusable. Her treatment of Lindsay was not unusual; in fact, it was the rule. I often found students waiting out in the hall for meeting Lynn had set up. Usually Lynn never showed. The students grumbled, but they had no real recourse. Lynn held control of their grades. If the students complained there were consequences. Unfortunately, in academe such behavior was forgivable if one managed to publish papers. And Lynn did -- a lot. I've learned, however, not to feast on sour grapes. After the first week of the school year, I worked hard to ignore Lynn. I felt sorry for her students (one confided that Lynn personally and maliciously berated those who dared question her views in class; supposedly a student was brought to tears), but there wasn't much I could do. Instead, I listened to the complaints, smiled in sympathy and went about my business.

A few minutes after Lindsay left, I heard some shuffling out in the hallway. I looked up from a stack of papers to see Lynn fumbling with her door. I couldn't help but stare.

I'm ashamed, though. As much as I disliked Lynn, I couldn't refrain from staring whenever I saw her. Goddamn, but she was a looker, a smoldering, ice princess with a body as fine as any I have ever seen.

Lynn was wearing a black, pinstripe pantsuit and jacket combo that was all the rage for young, professional attire. Despite not being able to see any skin, I could tell that she had something very interesting hidden under the dark fabric. Tall and slender, at about 5'9", Lynn had a killer set of legs. They were long, muscular, and firm, the kind of stems that could fit so perfectly around my waist. Underneath her jacket, Lynn wore a grey, high-necked top. I think there was some sweater meat, but the amount was anyone's guess. Lynn wore her wheat-blonde hair pulled back into a typically severe bun. A pair of rectangular, black glasses rested on her long, thin Roman nose. Not a single touch of make-up graced her face.

With the right flourishes, Lynn might be considered beautiful. Currently, though, she was plain and possibly even harsh. Lynn labored and strained to maintain a deliberately business exterior, but I often wondered if there was more than a driven, academic bitch underneath. Probably not, but one could never know.

Lynn's lips formed into a snarl as she caught me looking up from my pile of papers. Locking her eyes on mine, she out spat a single word, "What?!"

A chill descended over me. How did this woman take all the life and energy out of a room? I was shaken, and I suddenly remembered why I couldn't stand this woman. "One of your students was looking for you," I said. "She was waiting in the hall when I got here. She said she had an appointment with you."

Lynn set down her bag and fished out a planner. She opened it up and scanned the pages. "Who?" Lynn asked. Her tone was not any warmer. She looked up. Her eyes formed into steely blue slits, as they became a glare.

"Lindsay Merrit," I replied, "My guess is that she was here for at least a half an hour."

A look of recognition crossed Lynn's face, and then it was gone. Lynn rolled her eyes and looked disgusted. "Yeah, whatever. I'm sure it wasn't that important." Lynn then entered her office and closed the door roughly behind. The wood hit the frame with a thud shaking the glass.

One word rang in my mind: Bitch!

*****

When I checked my email around three that afternoon, I was surprised to find an email from Lindsay in my inbox. The email said:

Professor Matthews, My sisters and I are throwing a party at the Alpha Zeta house tonight. We are inviting a couple of cool professors. I was wondering if you were interested. It is a Halloween party so a costume in mandatory. Things will be going by 9:00 p.m. I hope to see you there. I'd like to show you the rest of my costume. - Lindsay

I rocked back in my chair, listening to the wood creak. My eyes fell closed as I felt air fill my lungs. The situation was so tempting. Was this an innocent invitation? Was I truly just a "cool professor?" Or was this something more? Was this the first step in a seduction?

Thought was unnecessary. There was no question; I would be going to the party. I was just a guy hanging out with a bunch of undergraduates. No harm, no foul, right? If some of them were inebriated scantily clad young women looking for a good time, that wasn't my fault. They invited me. Fuck yeah, I was going!

I finished my work, and then spent the rest of my day preparing and resting up for the party. I resurrected a costume from years gone by, that hopefully would be ok without attracting too much attention. A previous roommate of mine had been a medical intern. A few years back I snagged some scrubs and used them as a costume. Fortunately, I had been enough of a pack rat to hold onto them. The scrubs were comfortable and came complete with a facemask and hair cap. Perfection!

A little after nine-thirty I pulled onto campus. The night was alive. Sounds of carousing and merriment bubbled up from every direction. As I got out of my car, a group of eight giggly, scantily-clad coeds walked by me in the parking lot. They were all done up to the nines and wearing clothes that would be considered indecent at any other time of the year. I leered openly, as I felt my cock expanding in my pants.

One of the women (she looked like a sexy milkmaid) noticed me staring. She cupped her hand and whispered to her friends. They all laughed together as they strolled by. The milkmaid, just as she was crossing out of the lot, bent over at the waist. She hiked up her skirt and gave me a delicious view of her panty-covered ass and crotch. In unison the group yelled, "Trick or Treat!" before they ran off, heels clicking on the pavement.

I grinned. Women all over campus were ripe and ready for a good time. Hopefully Lindsay was one of them. I just needed to locate the Alpha Zeta house to find out.

The sorority was surrounded by walls of thick, black plastic ten feet high. The idea was to keep the police from seeing into the party. The residents would be protected if they were drinking underage or taking part in any other form of impropriety. I chuckled to myself. Everyone knew what was happening behind those walls. Campus security just turned a blind eye, so the debauchery could continue.

I was greeted at the door by a beautiful woman in a suit of red rubber complete with horns and tail. A zipper snaked up her front, but was undone enough to reveal a burgeoning cleavage held in by a lacy red bra. The woman stuck a pitchfork in front of me in a mock threat. She giggled as she asked in a flirty, slightly-sauced voice, "Whoa! Wait up there. Who are you Doctor? Are you on the list?"

"Randall Matthews, M.D." I answered. I wasn't keen to be giving out my name, but it was clear I needed to follow protocol if I wanted to get inside.

She looked down at a clipboard and found my name. "Oh, I see you. Lindsay asked you here." Then the she-devil giggled and moved in close. I could smell the bitter tang of alcohol on her breath. The woman's voice became a whisper, "You're a professor, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Naughty boy. I know who you are looking for inside. Go get her." The she-devil lifted her pitchfork and waved me inside. I shook my head in disbelief. Then I entered the party.

It'd been a while since I had been to an undergraduate party. The place was packed. I wasn't sure where to look first. In one room a huge throng of people was dancing to a throbbing hip hop beat. In another, an equally impressive mob was standing around chatting and sipping from red plastic cups. All around me were Halloween costumes: wanton witches, action heroes, naughty nurses, fantasy princesses, sassy sailors, and hot-ass hobos. Many of the outfits were unidentifiable. Some of the costumes were intricately planned productions while others were very sketch and obviously last minute. The party favorite seemed to be a guy who attached an honest-to-God toilet around his neck and was holding a sign that said, "Give me your shit!!!"

I prowled around for a few minutes before finding a keg. I filled a cup and took a swig. The cheap swill tasted like foamy ass, but who was I to complain. I had been an undergrad once. For them, quality beer was just an expensive pie-in-the-sky dream.

I took a second swig. Sadly, the beer in my cup was still shit. I tried to blink away the taste -- and that's when I saw her.

Lindsay was a feline vamp decked out in black. The fishnets (with seams up the back) and 5" stilettos she was wearing, gave her a dark edge. One word could describe the pair of matching skin-tight shorts and halter: skimpy.

She was all delicious curves deserving to be licked from top to bottom. Generous handfuls of feminine flesh pushed up from the stretchy fabric molded to her chest. A fishnet top covered Lindsay's top half, but did little to mask her assets. Her chestnut locks were pulled back tight into ponytail. Fuck, she still wore the cat ears, nose, and whiskers! Those accessories were so goddamn sexy.

A soft, curly tail had been added to the costume since this afternoon. She looked like such a naughty kitty, a Halloween dream dripping with sex. My mind was running wild. Maybe I could get her to bend over and lick my cream? Would she purr as she nibbled on my cock? Would Lindsay loose a yowling meow as I rammed my dick into her creamy cunt? I had been wishy-washy when I had walked in the door. This afternoon I had been concerned about pushing things beyond obvious lines of propriety. Now there was no debate; I wanted desperately to fuck her. I was going to do everything possible to make that dream happen.

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