Watching the Professor

Prelude: I wrote this fantasy for my cyberlover. He asked me to post it here, and it thrills me to please him and submit to his requests. It is the first time I've written erotica.

I'm a graduate student in my early 20's; he is in his mid-30's and a college professor. The first part is my letter to him, and then my fantasy follows.

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I reread your letter and wanted to come again.

I spread my legs and closed my eyes, let my head fall back on my pillows, and unleashed my imagination. I thought about us fucking, hidden in the library stacks, as you described. I imagined you behind me, thrusting into me, both of us hungry and desperate for the other, both trying so desperately to be quiet, to not get caught.

I imagined your suggestion about a woman there, spying on us. Then something happened, and I was imagining what it would be like to be that woman. I came so hard, and the fantasy just sprang into my head, incredibly detailed and full blown. That's never happened to me

before! And I wanted to share it with you.

Here's what I imagined:

I'm a new grad student at your university. I don't really know you yet. I'm sort of shy, and the semester's only a few weeks old.

We've seen each other at the usual department functions, and we've exchanged polite talk at the obligatory bad wine and cheesesession that follows guest lectures. I find you very attractive, but it would never occur to me that you are a live possibility for an affair.

I've read some of your work, as I did all the faculty's before I applied here—-well, those I'd like to work with, anyway--—and I'm attracted to the mind revealed at work there as well. Your intellectual passion, your clarity of expression, your wit, the sudden flashes of humor revealed in your professional work: all these draw me to you. But you seem so far removed from me, in person, and I assume you have many students eager to work with you, many demands on your time.

What I don't yet suspect is the nature of the work they are eager to do for you.

I'm in the library, as I often am, both to research, and to write.

I love libraries. I wander the stacks sometimes, not in my field, but just anywhere, and that's what I'm doing now. I stop when a title catches my eye. Wittgenstein and what? What is this doing in this section, in this neglected corner? I'm reaching for it when I realize I hear something; in fact I've been hearing it just below the level of consciousness for some time.

A whisper? Rustling?

I hear it again. A single sharp intaken breath.

Then I hear a word, low, unmistakable. A woman's voice.

"Please"

Unmistakable. What she means, the suppressed urgency in her voice, the raw nature of the plea.

What I hear is a woman begging you to fuck her.

She can't wait.

There is fear in her voice, fear of being caught, and there is need and lust overwhelming all of that.

I can't believe it. That one word, but I instantly know what's going on.

I drop silently to my knees, and peer through the bookshelves, looking up.

I am shocked to see that it's you. You! My breath catches in my throat.

You're behind her. She's gorgeous. She must be one of your students. Her little pink T-shirt is is pulled up, exposing lovely round tits. One of your hands is cupping one, squeezing the rosy nipple.

She is pushing her ass back into you, being so quiet, showing you without words how much she welcomes your thrusts. I feel a pang-—I

want it to be me! But I can't stop watching. Her hands are braced against the bookcase, her white skirt is pulled up around her hips and her panties have been roughly pushed aside. From my vantage point near the floor, looking up, i can see your thick cock sliding in and out of her. Her total abandonment and obvious pleasure in it awaken something in me. I swallow, and run my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. I can't look away, and I can feel my own panties getting damp.

I'm mesmerized by the looks on both your faces, showing the very private ecstasy that I'm intruding on.

With a jolt, I realize I know her. I'm a Teaching Assistant in one of her classes, she's an idiot! She's a sorority bimbo! What are you doing with a girl like that, I wonder . . .she's an airhead, whereas I . . .wait, I what? What am I saying?---- She's very tasty though, even if a bit trampy. . .but that in itself can be a turn-on, I admit to myself. . .she must be in one of your classes...I can't believe I'm having these feelings about what I'm seeing, but I'm suddenly overwhelmed by sexual feelings towards you, ones I did not completely realize I had.

(But wasn't that why I've felt so tongue-tied around you, before?-- I suddenly wonder. Isn't that why I almost avoid you, around the

department?)

God, your cock looks delicious, sliding in and out like that, I can see her juices on the shaft making it shine. I suddenly wish

I could suck it clean for you, tasting her juices and your cum, and I blush furiously, heart beating hard.

You are really pounding her, you are moving together furiously, quietly, driving her towards orgasm, driving her and yourself, to

the brink. I hold my breath, I feel the dampness in my own panties and shift a bit. My clit has swollen, rising with excitement, and

the seam of my pants is now rubbing it. Shifting only increases the delicious friction, making me even wetter.

I take my hand and press it gently against my clit, my pussy. I can feel the heat radiating.

I start to rub myself delicately, teasingly, through my pants.

I don't take my eyes off you.

The girl is lost in pleasure, head thrown back, back arched, taking you in. Suddenly your hand plunges down, down her slim tanned body, caressing her completely bare mound. I see your finger arch and then disappear between the lips of her pussy, and I know you are finding her clit with sureness, and deftly stroking it.

She draws in a breath, and then your other hand rises from gripping her hips, and you give her the heel of your hand to bite. She does,

eagerly and now she can moan softly, without being heard.

You know she's close, you're pushing her over the edge, so that she can cum with you. I want to watch, want to see you pump her full of your cum, I want to be her!

Now you switch hands. You feed her her own juices, you give her your fingers to suck. Her mouth opens eagerly for you, her mouth

is filled with three fingers, and I see your lips move, whispering into her ear, it is so low I can't catch it. Whatever you've said

to her, it's the final push over the cliff. I see her buck wildly and cum in long spasms and shudders.

Her spasms set you off too at last.

Your knuckles go white as you clutch her hip, pulling her onto your cock, and I know you're coming too.

You both shudder together, as your balls empty into her. I imagine what it feels like to be her, to be filled with your cum. Feeling the hot spurts so deep inside her, impaled on your cock like that. I imagine it and my pussy throbs with longing. I need to push my fingers inside myself soon, and imagine it's your cock opening me, filling me, splitting me.

When it's all over, when your breathing slows, you withdraw reluctantly and tenderly from each other. Clothes are straightened; no words are exchanged; you share a single deep, passionate kiss.

She leaves first and you leave a few minutes after, obviously waiting so no one will see you together. Did I see your eyes linger, near my hiding place? Do you know someone's spied on you??

Do you know it's me?

After you leave, I wait for my breathing to return to normal. I know two things: I'm going to have to cum to images of you, this night

and many more.

And I'll be in your grad seminar, waiting my chance to offer myself to you.

Will it be you seducing me, or the other way around? Will I ever tell you I saw this? Did you already see me watching you?

I don't know. But I know that soon, it'll be me, fucking you in the stacks, in your office,-—anywhere you want-—anything you want.

Your sweet lustful whore,

M