Confession Ch. 04: The Professor

Once again I'm going to fast forward through time a bit for this one. There are other things I want to go back to but this one just felt like the next one I wanted to get off my chest. As long as you all are reading these in order, I'll stop prefacing each one with an excuse!

So, the last chapter took place the summer following my junior year of college. Just a few short months later it was nearing the end of my first semester of senior year. I was wrapping up courses in my major and was trying my best to survive those final sprints. Arriving back to campus after Thanksgiving break I was focusing all of my efforts on the quickly approaching final exams and research papers.

By your senior year, you've become well acquainted with the faculty in your department. In one of my courses I had a professor for the second time and really enjoyed his classes. He was much, much older than me, of course, in what I assumed were his early 60's. We became friendly over time, exchanging emails and after class discussions, in a completely professional context. I admired his experience in our field and his quiet but thoughtful persona.

I had gotten the creepy vibe from professors before but he wasn't like that, at all. In fact, he didn't even seem to do the nonchalant physical appraisal that most all men do when around a woman. If I could sum up this professor, who we'll call Dr. Bob, it would be an academic, almost nerdy, fatherly, perhaps grandfatherly, type figure to me.

With the semester drawing to a close, I was ultimately very stressed about all the work I had to accomplish. I had five courses, all critical to my major, and each had its own set of challenges that seemed overwhelming. In an email exchange with Dr. Bob, I had voiced these anxieties and he offered to look over any papers or exam topics I thought he could help with. Seeing this as an opportunity to get an edge on finals, I quickly accepted his offer.

The problem was, there wasn't a lot of time left in the year. I could wait until Monday, a mere two days before a major paper was due, or I could join him on a Friday evening. Thinking nothing of that situation, and only of my grades, I immediately booked a study session with Dr. Bob. I quickly texted my boyfriend of my plans and told him that we would join up after I was finished. He didn't seem to mind at all and we set tentative dinner plans for 8 PM.

At 6 PM I arrived at Dr. Bob's house. He lived about 10 minutes from campus in a small, old style home. Lots of wood paneling, wood cabinets, furniture with patterns, that sort of thing. Oh, and a distinctive smell, sort of a musty warmth, like firewood and mothballs.

Dr. Bob gave me a quick tour of the small home and ushered me to a room off of the dining room. A small sitting area with a roll-top desk, shelves filled with books, and papers scattered literally everywhere. It was exactly how you imagine a professor kept his office. Sitting down on a leather sofa, he politely offered a glass of red wine, which I did not decline.

The wine had some history that I've long forgotten but it sounded important. We then began discussing my first paper, getting lost down rabbit holes here and there. It was so fun to quiz him on this theory or that, to have him validate or challenge my ideas. We discussed one paper, then another, then another class and its final exam topics. In what seemed like fifteen minutes, nearly an hour and a half had flown by. Like an hour glass, the wine too had disappeared. Realizing the time, I told Dr. Bob of my plans with my boyfriend and that I should probably leave soon.

"If you want to slightly push your plans, we can discuss that last final of yours and enjoy one last glass of wine," he suggested. I was really in the flow of things and the wine had been amazing so far. I agreed to stay a bit longer and grabbed my cell phone. Taking longer than expected, let's push dinner 30 minutes, I texted.

Bringing back a newly opened bottle of wine, with its own story of origin, Dr. Bob sat down next to me on the couch. As the clock approached 8, the last exam and glass of wine were nearly finished. However, without thinking twice about it, I realized that my dear professor had come very close to me.

I recall wearing a brown wool sweater with a classy v-neck type design. With my bust size, it made a small but obvious amount of cleavage. Cleavage that it seemed Dr. Bob was looking at directly. Making a note on my papers I felt that obvious feeling of eyes on me. It was at that moment that I made another realization. I don't know how long it had been, but a certain older man had his hand on my thigh.

It is moments like these that there are decisions to make. Do you politely excuse yourself and leave the room? Do you acknowledge it but move on like nothing happened? Are you disgusted? Are you indifferent? Are you aroused?

I started to feel guilty almost immediately when I recognized my thoughts. Not only was I not upset at this advance, but I was oddly ok with the moment. When your mind races, it seems you can process a million thoughts in just a few seconds. I went from taking notes, to feeling a hand on my thigh, to being turned on, in the amount of time it took me to put my pen down on the table.

I knew I shouldn't though. I knew I wasn't that kind of girl and this wasn't even the time to be that kind of girl. This wasn't some super hot fantasy and I had an incredible boyfriend just minutes away ready for dinner with me. Dinner and amazing sex, if I wanted it. But here I was, my mind considering making a really bad decision.

I was startled from my inner thoughts by the squeezing of his right hand on my thigh. I suppose he had realized that I wasn't brushing him away and he slowly made the next move. Massaging my thigh he moved his hand several inches, from my knee to deep inside my thigh, and back again, repeatedly. My arousal becoming more intense.

My head finally turned to make eye contact and speak. I had to say something.

"We can't," is what muttered with what I'm sure was zero believability.

"It's ok princess," he responded with the tone of a man speaking to a young girl. I suppose I felt his authority at that moment. "Now show daddy that incredible body," he continued while shifting his hands to either side of my sweater.

It slowly came up and over my head revealing my breasts fully filling out a black lace bra.

"Wow, I always knew you were busty Sara, but those are beautiful," he said matter of factly as the back of his hand traced around my upper body. His hands moved from my neck, to my cleavage, and everywhere in between. My breasts responded to his touch and my eyes closed hoping to avoid watching my awkward situation. This was happening I suppose.

"Now stand up," he motioned and pulled my arm up from his seated position. "Don't be shy darling," he said, directing me just like he had all night. Except now instead of educational matters he was casting his perverted thoughts onto me.

I felt more aroused and confident, standing in front of him, my bra encompassed chest drawing his gaze. Sliding my shoes off, I slowly unclasped my jeans. They hugged my womanly hips enough that I had to shimmy slightly to free their grip. Feeling so powerful, beautiful, and sexy in the moment, I pushed the tight jeans down my legs. I was now standing in my lacy black bra and matching black panties.

Side note, that may sound convenient for the story, but it's true. Typically I mismatched my bra and panties, and in fact often had on less sexy options. But, I distinctly remember on this day, I happened to be wearing a combination worthy of viewing.

My curvy body was now greatly exposed to this older, fatherly, respected figure in my life. I stood there confident, yet unsure of what he would say or do next. Over the next few minutes, he complimented my body while asking for a turn or twist or bend in a certain direction. I started to feel a bit uneasy, like a piece of meat.

Before I could think too much about that feeling, he stood, pushing me to my knees. A loud clanking noise accompanied the sounds of his belt, zipper, and pants being undone. Dropping all of it to the ground he was now fully exposed at my eye level. Stroking himself, his limp penis moved back and forth as I watched.

It looked so different. It wasn't young and fully erect, tight and vibrant like I had experienced. It was more wrinkled, thick, and soft. His testicals hung down enough to be fully visible beneath his shaft. Seeing a completely different type of manhood aroused me further. It was taboo. I was seeing something that had seen so much of life already.

With just ever so slight of an erection, he placed it on my lips expecting me to receive him. I did. My lips parted feeling a much older man move to my tongue. It was warm and soft and I felt so dirty.

Closing my eyes again I proceeded with my normal motions. Soft sucking and swirling of my tongue. His hips brought him further inside my mouth then further out of it. All of it so slow and intentional. He was enjoying controlling me. With each stroke he seemed to get just a bit more erect.

A few more minutes into the experience and he was moving faster and making soft primal noises. Pulling back he stroked himself near my face. Pausing, he held himself still while a long strand of precum made its way from his tip. Missing my face it landed on my breasts, so wet and slippery, sliding down between them.

Perhaps slowing down his own arousal state, he pulled me from my knees and instructed me to finish undressing. I did consciously pause at this moment, feeling not entirely sure about how this innocent night turned so erotic. Reassuring me with his confident, calm voice, I did as he said.

First I removed my bra, slowly, exposing my full breasts to him. Then, I pulled down my thong until I was exposed completely for him. He proceeded to make more comments about my body, talking about each individual feature from my areolas to the shape of my mound to the contour of my pussy.

He was now fully nude as well and I initially hoped that he would orgasm and wrap all of this up. I moved closer to him to attempt to stroke and please him since he was perhaps close just a few moments ago. His hand groped all over me and he kept talking about all of the specific things he loved about my young body.

His fingers moved up my thigh again this time stopping at my nude womanhood. Firmly touching my lips he looked over at the clock. "Buy yourself 30 more minutes," he said, telling me what to do.

Reminding me of my boyfriend was a cruel thing to do. I felt bad again knowing I was texting him for a bad reason. As I leaned into my purse for my phone, his fingers made their move, entering my wetness. I let out a loud gasp and dropped my phone to the ground.

"Pick it up," he instructed. As I leaned over again, further down, his fingers went further. I moaned so loudly as I leaned back up, phone in hand. Fingering me more fervently now, it was hard to focus. I was barely able to type out the message: Still running late, I'll meet you at your place at 9.

Flipping the phone closed it fell back to the floor. Turning me around he pushed me back onto the cold leather couch. His fingers continued their quest and my moans echoed through the house. Moving close he removed his fingers and put his hips between my thighs.

"Get a condom," I said, catching my breath.

"I don't keep those things around," he responded with a devilish look in his eye. Rubbing himself against my opening, "is that a deal breaker?"

I silently nodded "no" and without hesitation he pushed into me forcefully.

"You're such a good girl Sara," he moaned, thrusting in and out of me uncontrollably. It took just a few short minutes until he thrusts slowed to deep pauses. Loud grunts filled the room and I had that familiar warm feeling.

Leaving the room he coldly said, "I'll see you on Wednesday."

I quietly replaced my clothing and made my way to my car. A few minutes later I arrived at my boyfriends apart, feeling both ashamed and horny. "Ready for dinner?" he greeted me at the door. "I need you first," I whispered not knowing if his roommate was there. Leading him by the hand we went to his room and turned on some music.

With the lights off I pulled his pants down and placed his manhood in my mouth. My mind raced about how much I absolutely loved his cock. But, I also just had a completely different one in there an hour ago. I felt so dirty but naughty.

Bending over his bed in the dark, I pulled my tight jeans off for the second time that night. As my panties hit his floor I felt him reach for his stash of condoms. "Not tonight," I said as sexy as I could. The next feeling was his bare erection pushing into me, which I absolutely adored.

"Wow you must be horny tonight," he whispered.

"Why's that baby," I responded back.

"You just felt ready for me," he added. "You took me easier and you feel so good!"

"What feels so good baby?"

"I can't explain it, you're just so wet and warm, it feels incredible in there," he said, giving me long deep pumps.

"Mmmm enjoy it...you feel so fucking good," I moaned feeling an orgasm finally swell in me. As I came I thought about how two men had enjoyed me and it pushed me over the edge. I had an amazing orgasm all over my boyfriends hard full erection.

"I don't think I can last," he moaned. "Where can I come baby?"

"Just come in me...please...COME IN ME," moaning the last few words. With much more force I felt his release start to fill me. The first spurt, then the next, then other, each pulse feeling so good until he stopped moving and pulled out.

Flipping on a lamp he said, "Holy shit I came a lot tonight," pointing to the sheet I had been bent over on. There was a trail of come down the sheets not to mention the latest deposit.

"Yeah it felt like you did!" I followed up with encouragement. Which, he actually did. As I relaxed, still open from him, I felt his load moving out of me too. What a weird, dirty, erotic night I had just trying to be a good student.