The Instructor

The semester had been going well up till now. You knew from the beginning it would be so hard getting back into the swing of things after such a long absence from school. But you are determined to see it through. "I must be mad" you chuckle to yourself as your car pulls into the last space in the lot "again". When will you learn to leave the house earlier and be able to park closer. You grab your books and start your brisk jog to the campus, admonishing yourself for being late as usual and vowing for the hundredth time to never do so again in the future.

In all fairness night classes haven't been so bad actually. You have been able to further your education and the cost hasn't been too bad. You know if you only stick with it that you will get that raise at work and be able to start really climbing the "ol corporate ladder".

The Business classes haven't been too bad and you have mastered Physics, but History has been tough. It figures, out of all the classes you would need to get the degree it would be history that slows you down. "Who needs history anyways?" you think. "Not like Caesar or Hitler will ever be a client of ours? The whole thing makes no sense!" Inside though you are really scared. It's that one class that is holding you back and causing you the greatest grief.

You arrive at the kiosk, mildly out of breath from your brisk walk and join the milling throng of students all clambering for the coffee machines. You grab a cup of strong brew and sit down at one of the many tables to muse upon the day. Why does it seem so easy for the others? They don't seem too much older than yourself? You have taken great pains to make sure you had not lost your zest for life, and the cynicism that comes with age has not affected you yet. You are aware it is lurking in the background somewhere, waiting to pounce upon you at any given moment, turning you into one of those "old folks' you used to laugh about. You smile at the thought and put it out of your head "Not for me!" you say under your breath. You have kept yourself well. You even have a few boyfriends vying for your attentions. Yes you are beautiful. So why do you feel so down? It must be that damn class you have had trouble with. You push to the back of your mind the fact that you have never met your true love or known the passion that can come from a romance that was meant to be.

You turn your cup up to get the last drop of the bittersweet coffee, and wonder why it seems impossible for them to make a campus brew that doesn't taste like crap. Out of the corner of your eye you glance at the clock and a chill runs through you. You are late for class! This cannot be? You have been so careful! You grab your books and hurry off.

You enter the History building and notice the halls are empty. Not a good sign. "Shit" class has begun. It would be like that grizzled son of a bitch to make a big deal outta me being late again. "Hey I have a real job and a real life, not like some old fossil in some minor college teaching a night course" you say to yourself as you hurry up the stairs.

You silently open the classroom door and peek in timidly. Your classmates stop talking look back at you and smile in unison. You are well known for habitual lateness. They all chatter amongst themselves as you take your seat. You notice that the teacher isn't even there yet. You take your usual seat in the back of the class. "This has got to be your lucky night" your friend leans over and says to you. "Professor Thompson is never late, but he hasn't shown yet. We're going to give him another ten minutes than all go out for a class party to celebrate our luck. Why don't you come along? It'll be good not to hear him drone on and on about some stupid thing for one evening huh?" She smiles at you and you know in your heart you feel the same way. Besides you didn't finish the report due today anyways and another day or two extra would be a Godsend. "Sure Nancy I would like that".

You start to watch the clock with your fellow students and join them in a joke or two about the Professor. You think about how much fun it will be to not have class for one night. To go out and relax. To maybe sip a glass of wine and dance a bit. It's been so long for you that you wonder if you have forgotten how. The noise of footsteps out in the hall makes you aware that those dreams are not meant to be tonight.

The door opens and he steps in. You stare wide-eyed. It is not Professor Thompson.

The class goes silent all but for you as you give a slight gasp. He is the most handsome man you have ever seen. You instantly realize that you feel a passion inside you that for too long has been a stranger. You feel like you are under a spell as he approaches the podium. His voice is deep and reassuring. You look to your friend but she seems just as enthralled as you do. You are aware that all the other girls in the class are smiling and noticeably attracted to this new teacher. "This is all I need now!" you think to yourself. "I'm having trouble in this class and they put this hunk in as a substitute! Thank God it will only be for one night and we can get back to Thompson. He may have been a bastard but at least I didn't have to sit through the class with wet panties!" You watch the new instructor with passionate fascination as he explains to the class that Professor Thompson had become ill and would not be completing the semester. "I am your new instructor Professor Miller. I hold a masters in History from UCLA and a Doctorate in History and World Politics from Penn State." He speaks on about his qualifications but you do not hear them, You are too busy cursing your bad luck and wondering how you will keep your mind on your studies for the rest of the semester. You know in your heart that to fantasize about this man would be futile, he has so many girls in here that would jump at the chance for a single caress from this man. What are your chances that he would notice another gal in the back of the room? You sigh in despair, and try to force your mind to other thoughts.

The rest of the lecture is uneventful as your instructor continues talking about the Legacy that World War One has had on modern Europe. Normally you would have dozed off long ago but you cannot bring yourself to look away from this man. His every word holds you in a grip of fascination. You are so in tuned to this man that you are aware of his every breath as he starts a new sentence. You watch him as he gazes about the room, he looks at all the students and you know its you imagination but he seems to be staring most often at you. His eyes are so blue and his every glance sends a shiver down to your wetness. You know you would be his forever if he would say the word but the realist inside you tells you that it is only your imagination. You are certain that your feelings are the result of being without the attentions you deserve and have denied yourself for so long.

Your dreams are interrupted as the lecture ends and the students mill about and conclude final business before walking out. Immediately the instructor is surrounded by many of the female students asking pointless questions about the lecture in an attempt to catch his eye. You sigh as you notice you didn't take a single note and pick up your books. You make your way to the door feeling quite drained, and trying again to convince yourself that you are just overtired. You stop at the door allowing yourself one more look at your new instructor. Almost to reassure yourself that it's only a dream. Knowing inside that to see him chatting with the other girls will prove to you that it is not meant to be. As you turn you see him staring directly at you from over the shoulder of another girl who is talking to him. He smiles and you feel a wave of romantic energy waft over your body. You instinctively smile back trying to hide your feelings which you know now are naked and exposed to his eyes. It is as if he can see inside your very soul. You turn and hurry out the door. This cannot be you keep thinking to yourself.

At home you step into the warm shower to wash away the day's anxieties, and are tickled by the cascading waters as they tease your body. You stand in the hot spray and muse upon thoughts of your instructor. You try to deny your feelings but notice that as you think of him you are absentmindedly touching yourself erotically. Your hands play deftly across your nipples, which rise in delight to your thoughts of this new man in your life. The pulsations of the showerhead awaken your wetness and bring the relief of a small but satisfying orgasm. You sigh to no one as you allow yourself the pleasure of your own touch. The pleasures of knowing what you need and knowing your secret zones of comfort and erotic joy. You crawl into bed and allow yourself another fantasy about him, your touches are his in your mind, and your soul is cleansed once more in the throws of ecstasy as you blissfully fall asleep to dream of a man who you know in your heart can never be yours.

The sun shines through your window as the new day dawns and you awaken to the chatter of the radio. Now you know you are well rested and you can think realistically once again. Yes you think it was only a passion brought on from too much worry and work. Surely it was not real. Yet you cannot drive this man from your mind. Its as though your brain is teasing you for cruel pleasure as you see him in every thought you have. You know that if you can only see him in class once again you can prove to yourself that it was not real. You know it will be a very long workday until class tonight. But you resign yourself to other thoughts and will take the day as it comes.

The workday is uneventful as you deal with the day's happenings and muse about life over lunch with your co-workers. You wonder if they can tell that you are thinking of something other than work? "Oh will five o'clock never come?" you cry out to no one in particular. Your friends look at you and laugh.

It has never happened to you before but you actually find a good parking space at the college. Could be from the fact that you have arrived early for a change. "Chock up another one for good luck" you smile and think. But inside you cannot deny any longer that it is the infatuation of the instructor that has you in its tight grip. The Campus at night now holds a special beauty all its own as you get your coffee and watch the other students as they come and go. You think tonight maybe you will get to class early and sit up in front, but you are too nervous. You wish you could slap yourself from the thoughts you are having and once again you resign yourself to be late, if only so you will be forced to take your usual seat far in the back, thus forcing yourself to the reality that you must deny yourself to pipe-dreams in the future!

You get to the room and as per planned take your seat in the back corner of the class. You notice that the other girls are dressed much more seductively than they ever had before. You laugh to yourself because it is obvious that they are as smitten by the instructor as you are. You also take solace in the fact that they will help you get back to thinking properly, when he chooses one of them to give his attentions to.

He walks in the class and there is an audible but soft sigh from the girls as he walks to the podium. You feel as though you have been hit by lightning as the feelings of passion come to you as before. You know now it will be a long night.

He lectures again, covering unfinished business from the lecture before. Your eyes never leave him, and you cannot be sure but you notice that he looks at you more and more. You drift into an erotic fantasy, about your instructor taking you on his desk, your thoughts are so vivid that you can almost feel his hands touching your most sensitive areas. Driving you to heights of passion you have only read about in the many romantic stories that fill your nights. You hang your head enjoying the thoughts and noticing that your nipples are hard and erect under your blouse, letting yourself become lost in the touch of the fabric against them, sending tiny jolts of passion to your wetness. Each jolt is a touch from him in your mind. Oh if it were only real, oh please God if just for a moment you sigh.

"Ahem!" The instructor coughs as he looks directly at you. Bringing you out of your thoughts and fantasies. You notice that the rest of the class is looking at you too. "I will ask you again! What effects do you think that the treaty of Versailles had on bringing about the economic collapse in Europe in the post world war years?" You notice the other girls are jealous of him asking you, and you are noticeably surprised that he would chose someone in the back to ask his first lecture question to. He smiles warmly and waits for your answer. "Oh why didn't I do my reading last night?" you say to yourself. You stammer out an answer but it is apparent that you did not do very well, and he winks at you and calls on a young man to answer correctly. You feel drained as red faced you sit a little lower in your chair.

He does not call on you any more during the remaining lecture, and as the class ends for the night you wait for awhile before walking out. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You almost make it to the door when you hear him. "May I have a word with you please?"

You turn to face him expecting to see a frown of disapproval but you are met by his bright eyes and a warm smile. "I was going over Professor Thompson's records and noticed you seem to be having some trouble in this class. Would you be interested in some outside tutoring perhaps? If you would maybe we can go have a cup of tea and discuss it?"

His smile is infectious and you smile back and nod. It is as if he knows your feelings as he takes your hand and you walk down the hall.

You arrive at the kiosk and he brings you some hot tea, the other women stare as he does not sit across from you but instead sits beside you and stirs the warm treat. Before you know it you are both involved in wonderful conversation and the laughter and smiles flow free. The tea becomes cold but is warmed by the love and closeness of your new friend and the thoughts that this "is" real. This handsome man has chosen you and the love is genuine.

He looks deep into your eyes, "I think it would be best for you if I tutor you myself. I don't think it would help you much to have someone else try and catch you up on all the work you have neglected. It's too far into the class and you will need this one to graduate. So I propose that we meet this weekend at my ranch to discuss what is to be done with you." You smile as he takes your hand in his and softly toys with your fingers. He is a big man and very strong but there is a gentleness about him that makes your heart melt. You agree and wish for a kiss that you so desperately need. He smiles at you and touches your cheek in a loving caress, as he walks away, blending into the crowd of students, and leaving you with a feeling of joy that can only come from the passions of true love.

You can hardly contain your happiness. Could this be the man who will be yours forever? Your thoughts are pleasant during the drive home. It's as though all doubts and self-reservations have vanished from the mere touch of his hand. Your shower that evening runs a bit longer than anticipated as your thoughts and dreams combine nicely with the caresses of the water. You drift off that night filled with a feeling of fulfillment and bliss. The dreams that come to you are a harbinger of the passions that are to be.

The drive to his ranch is wonderful, as you wind your way along the narrow country road. The sunlight plays through the trees casting a pastel of shadows across your car, creating its own light show to the music of your radio. You glance at the history books in your passenger seat and cant help but hope that they are not needed.

You cross a small bridge over a small brook and off to your left you can see the ranch. Its marvelous, a modest two story home with many trees. You can see stables off to one side and a large gazebo graces a rise from a hill some distance from the house. The scene is picture perfect, there is a manliness to the decor of the house yet it is most tasteful in its design. You pull up behind a large black pick-up truck and gather your books.

He must have been watching for you. You turn to see him coming from the porch to greet you. You feel delighted at his presence. He looks so different to you now that he is not in the college setting. Gone is the dark suit, replaced by a flannel shirt and blue jeans. The Stetson hat is drawn back at a jaunty angle and you can't help but to imagine some of the swashbuckling hero inside him. He wears a nice pair of boots and you laugh in spite of yourself thinking that all he would need now is a badge and a gun and you two could relive the romantic moments of the film "High Noon". He immediately takes you by the hand and bids you to enter the home.

"I'm so glad you could make it." I've been making everything perfect for your tutoring". You enter the home and are dazzled by the cleanliness of the place. The whole house is a celebration of antiques. There is a large fireplace in a sunken living room. Hunting trophies adorn the walls and in front of the fireplace lies a large bearskin rug, that begs for the attentions of two lovers.

You are led to the back of the house where a glassed in porch awaits you. You see a table set with all the niceties of a proper brunch, where he sits you down in front of a chilled glass of white wine. He sits opposite you and lifts the bottle to pour himself some as you gaze over the property. The brunch is light and pleasant and you two talk of the world and get to know each other with innocent questions and the occasional naughty comment, which is returned with a smile or a sly grin. It is obvious now that your tutoring will not be about the class, but will be about two lovers forever bound by a common desire and need.

You know in your heart now that you two are meant to be. You have crossed the point of no return as the brunch is concluded. He rises and walks to the window and turns to you. "Would you like to ride with me?" You smile and go to him as passions fill you both. Words are no longer needed as you embrace in his strong arms. He kisses you passionately, his smells and tastes filling you, replenishing the feelings you have let run dry over so many years. It is your moment of awakening your moment of true love. The kiss is only a preview though, as you walk arm and arm out to the stables. You stand against the stable wall as you watch your lover ready two beautiful horses. He beckons you to the white one and you feel his hands grab your hips as he helps you mount. You wish now you had worn jeans instead of the short skirt but you feel the soft silky leather of the saddle caress the insides of your thighs and it excites you. Your lover mounts the other horse and side by side you both trot out of the stables to the rolling hills of the property.

You feel the gentle sways and rocks of each step the horse makes, as the saddle toys with your most sensitive area, in ways that are new to you. Your lover rides beside you helping you learn the various gates the horse takes and teaching you to sway your hips back in forth with the rhythm of the pony. You laugh as you see his grin and you know that he is aware of exactly the effect it is having on you. The saddle seems moist and you know where the moisture is coming from. You are lost in the magnificence of the ride, as the ponies halt in front of the gazebo on the hill.

"This is my favorite spot on the whole property," he says to you as he helps you dismount. "The sunsets here are lovely and you can catch the breezes and scents of the trees." You both stroll into the gazebo which is covered in ivy and honeysuckle. You both sit upon a small white bench in the center of the gazebo and cuddle warmly. He looks at you and with wild abandon kisses you deep and hard. Your body shudders with ecstasy as your tongues join in unison. You can feel his hands caressing your body through your dress. Throw your head back and gasp as you feel his fingertips slide over the fabric of your blouse exciting your nipples and sending instant signals to your wetness that it is time for the satisfaction of a lover. You are aware that only a fraction of an inch of material is between his fingers and your breasts as he gently and seductively swirls his index finger over your erect nipples. You are sighing as you hold him close. Your nose catches the scent of honeysuckle mixed with his aftershave as his hands roam under your skirt, he feels the wetness of your panties, and in an agonizing patience softly caresses your wetness through the silken material. Your head spins as your body shudders from a delicious orgasm. You lie back on the bench as he nibbles his way down your dress. Oh why wont he undress you? You wonder, yet you have never had such feelings before. To be made love to while still clothed is something you had never dreamed of in your wildest fantasies. You can feel his lips as they flutter their way across your chest and belly, he smiles at you and you know what he wishes for. "My love I shall drink of your juices and yet you will remain fully dressed" he says to you. Your moans fill the air from the thought alone, but soon thought becomes reality as you feel the tip of his tongue through the soft wet panties. He finds your clit and with torturous patience licks it softly and slowly. Your hands grab his head, pulling him into you as wave after wave of orgasmic passion waft over you. The sounds you are making are strange to you, but it is the sounds of your ecstasy that have never before left your body. Your moans turn to screams of desire as his gentle lickings turn to more powerful nibblings and suckings as he partakes of all the juices you have to give. Your body goes limp as it is rocked by the most powerful orgasm you have ever known. You lie contented as he sits beside your reclined form and lovingly massages you back from your passionate journey.