Fall Semester

Readers: This is a revised and longer version of "Not Good Enough." It is quite different, but the characters and settings will be familiar to anyone who has read the earlier story. This version fits better with prequels and sequels such as "Before the Fall," "Spring Semester," and After the Fall," yet to come. Enjoy - Dora

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Fall Semester

Carol wasn't expecting it. But Carl was.

Carl was a predator. He was also a professor, which gave him plenty of possibilities. There were always hundreds of desirable undergraduate women on campus, bursting with their new-found sexual magnetism. But Carl understood that they were each pursued by every undergrad male student, and by most of the faculty men as well.

What Carl found so appealing were the not-quite-so-young school teachers who filled his English classes every semester, still-attractive women in their late twenties and thirties who were taking his classes to maintain their teaching credentials.

These women were invisible to the other students. They generally went to class at night, and they were, after all, older than most of the "co-eds" on campus. And, for the most part, they were married. This is what Carl liked best about them. Married women presented fewer problems, fewer expectations. Many of them were still young enough to be very, very attractive, if you could see them through the teacher's glasses, the teacher's sweaters, and the teacher's personality. They weren't looking for commitment ... they already had a committed relationship at home. They weren't likely to have an STD ... teachers were characteristically conservative, faithful wives. But, and here was the key thing, the younger ones were also often in that part of their marriage that everyone goes through, when the newness has worn off, and the long-haul drudgery of working for a living has settled around them and their husbands and taken all the romance and adventure out of their lives.

Carl taught classes that met three times a week for an hour, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and then other classes that met only twice a week, for an hour and a half each on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So, by the end of the first week of classes, Carl had generally identified three or four attractive women in his classes that might be looking for a little adventure, even if they didn't realize it themselves yet. Then he waited, and before long, one or two would always show the signs.

Carol always came to her re-certification class directly from school. She just stayed late in her classroom and graded papers, then left in time to pick up a snack on her way to the campus. It was so much better than going home and relaxing that little bit, then trying to get charged up again and gather up all her stuff to go out to class in the evening. Plus, it prevented her from driving clear across town two extra times.

John didn't mind. He always said he was okay with fixing himself and their daughter something for dinner -- Carol usually set something out, or left a note about what they might take out and defrost for dinner. Then, when Carol finished her class, she either picked up another little snack at the student union coffee shop or came home and had left-overs with her husband in front of the TV.

This schedule meant that she was always wearing her school clothes to classes in the evening. Carol still felt obliged to dress up a little for teaching. Where other women who taught in her public middle school wore jeans and t-shirts to school, Carol thought that looked slovenly and unprofessional, and generally wore a nice skirt and blouse, often with a sweater. She almost always wore hose and nice shoes (not heels, though! There was too much standing as a teacher to wear heels of any height, and tennis just looked ridiculous in her opinion. She just wore "practical" flats.) So, on the college campus, she looked much more like a faculty member than a student, and was doubtless the best-dressed student in her classes.

And, Carol was an eager learner. She loved teaching and she loved learning. She loved the English language, and was so excited to discuss literature with adults who were motivated and interested, after long days of trying to teach the material to kids who would rather look out the windows or talk on their cell phones.

So Carol was always attentive, and alert, and participated in class to the point where she sometimes became self-conscious and held back from answering questions or expressing her opinions because she felt that she might be dominating the other students and not giving them a chance.

By the end of class on Thursday, there was no doubt in Carl's mind. There was a woman named Carol in his Tuesday/Thursday classes that was perfect. She was still quite young, probably in her late twenties, and she took good care of herself. She was neither "cute" in a little-girl way, nor beautiful like a model, but she was definitely a handsome-looking woman. From what he could tell given the winter clothes she was wearing to class, she had a great figure. She always looked put together. And she was smart, fun, and engaging when she participated in class. This one would be a good one.

Carol probably didn't realize it, but she showed a deep hunger for adult interaction and intellectual stimulation. She was like a puppy, she craved his attention in class so hungrily. And, when he favored her by calling on her or commenting on her excellent observations, she simply glowed with appreciation. After only two classes, she stood out from the crowd: sexy, sharp, together, and most important of all, needy.

"Carol, could you see me after class?" Carl said as the class was shuffling their papers as the clock approached 8:30.

As the other students filed out, Carol came to his desk, then stepped close to him to be out of the way of the others filing past to the door.

"Yes, Professor Fellows?" Carol asked.

"Oh, please, Carol. We're all adults here, call me 'Carl.'"

"Oh, sorry. Just a natural reaction left over from college days, I guess," Carol said with an embarrassed smile.

"No problem! I've been looking over the papers I had everyone write in class on Tuesday to tell me about their background, and I wanted to talk to you about yours."

"Oh? Did I make a mistake?" Carol asked.

"Far from it! I just wanted to mention two things. First, I was fascinated that you are something of a Twain scholar; I also have a real love of Twain's work, and I've made a study of him myself!"

"That's interesting! I certainly wouldn't call myself a 'Twain scholar!" Carol said. "He was just my senior research topic at CU."

"Well, that's not the only thing I wanted to mention. I was also impressed by the way your paper was written. I am always amazed by the poor quality of work I get from men and women who are supposed to be teaching our children the basics of our language. But your paper was perfectly composed, with perfect spelling and grammar, and you even found opportunities to display your wit and intelligence. I wanted to thank you; it is a rare opportunity for me to actually enjoy student work in these classes. I'm looking forward to having you in my class this year!"

"Oh, my! Thank you so much. Profess.."

"Carl!"

"Oh, yes! Thanks you so much, Carl! It's just fun for me to be going over this material with someone over the age of fifteen!" Carol literally radiated her pleasure in the praise she had received from her college professor. She was warm all over.

Carl handed Carol her paper. "I don't really grade these first-day papers; they're just for me to get to know the students better. But in your case, I couldn't resist." There was an "A+" scrawled across the top of her paper with red felt-tip. "See you next Tuesday!"

Carol left class walking on air.

Over the next couple of classes, Carol would often stop for a few minutes to complete a thought or explore a new idea after the class was over. Soon, Carl and Carol found themselves walking side by side through the dark campus after class, warmly chatting about their readings or composition subjects. One evening, about a month after classes had started, when they reached the point in the path away from the classroom building where they usually parted ways, they were engrossed in their conversation and just weren't ready to stop.

"Look, Carol, why don't we go over to the union and have a cup of coffee and keep this going?" Carl offered. "I'll buy you a scone!"

Carol glanced anxiously at her watch. It was already almost nine. She knew John wasn't particularly waiting for her, and probably wouldn't mind if she were a few minutes later than usual. "Okay! I'll but the coffee!"

So that set the pattern for them for the next several class sessions. They would leave class and head over to the student union and have some coffee together. Soon, their after-class meetings stretched out in length from fifteen minutes to half an hour, then to an hour or more. As they got to know one another, their topics of conversation drifted to more personal things, as well. Carol learned that Carl was separated from his wife, and Carl learned that he had been right, that the "magic" was fading from Carol and John's relationship.

One night, while they were in class, the first substantial snow had begun to fall. When they emerged from their classroom, Carol found it almost impossible to walk in her slippery leather-soled flats. Carl was wearing waffle-sole boots, and gallantly took her hand. When they reached the decision point where they usually turned to go over to the student union, Carol said, "Carl, I don't' think I should stay for coffee tonight! I better get on home ... it's going to be late enough as it is!"

Reluctant to let go of her hand, Carl said, "Okay. Let me walk you down to your car, so you don't fall." And he escorted her to the parking area. As she was unlocking her door, Carl took her hand again, and gave her a friendly little kiss, but right on her lips. "You be careful driving home, now, okay?"

A little stunned, Carol said, "Okay," and just climbed in her car without another word.

At that point, Carol suspected what might be going on, but she wasn't sure, and anyway, if Carl was trying to seduce her, it was kind of flattering. It had been a long time since anyone had paid attention to her "that way." Even her husband, John, seemed uninterested in her sexually now.

After that, whatever the weather, the two of them held hands on their way to get coffee after class. They made sure the other students were gone and they were pretty sure they weren't being too obvious; it was pretty dark on campus, and a couple holding hands wasn't all that conspicuous.

In Carol's mind, however, they stood out like a beacon. She didn't really know anyone here, but the thought of being seen holding hands with another man was both thrilling and scary.

One Thursday soon after the first snow, Carl showed Carol a flyer at the student union. There was an American Artists series going on on campus, and one of the events was "An Evening With Mark Twain" the upcoming Friday ... the next night! "We should go!" Carl told her. Their class this semester was on English Lit., but he knew they both were Twain fans.

"Oh, I don't know, Carl. I really can't afford it! And, anyway, my car's in the shop this week, so we only have one car, and I can't strand John at home."

"Money's no object!" Carl laughed, "'Cause faculty gets free tickets! And I'd be glad to come pick you up from school. We could get a bite to eat, then go to see the show, and I'll run you home ... I live in that direction myself."

"Well ... okay?" There was a little hesitation in her voice. "I'll have to ask John, of course, but if he says okay, I'd like to go!"

The phone rang. John answered it, and a man's voice asked for Carol.

Carol took the call, then, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece, she asked John if he would mind if she went out to see the Twain presentation with her professor the next night. John said that would be fine; he never wanted to go out on Friday nights anyway, after a long week at work.

Carl purposely kept it light when they went out to dinner. He didn't go for fast food, but he didn't go for a fancy restaurant, either. He felt Applebee's was just about the right level of intimacy for their first "date." Nice enough to be pleasant, but not so nice as to alarm her.

After a nice dinner, and a great performance, Carl took Carol home in his old Plymouth sedan. It was literally freezing cold after the long evening in the hot theater, and Carol slid over on the slick plastic of the bench seat to be next to Carl for some warmth, "at least until the heater got going," she told herself. "Do you mind," she asked as she snuggled next to him.

"No, that's terrific," her professor said.

As they wound through the dark, cold streets, Carol began to get sleepy, and rested her head on his shoulder. She dozed off. When she wakened, they were parked under a tree on the street in front of her house. The house was dark, but the streetlight lit it up, as well as the sidewalks and her yard. But the shadow of the tree they were under cast them into a pool of relative darkness, where no one could see them within Carl's old car. The car was still running, and the heater was now going full blast, making the car, if anything, too warm.

Carl lifted her head off of his shoulder, and still holding onto her chin, kissed her on the lips. She reciprocated and then she felt Carl's tongue sliding along her closed, puckered lips. After a second's hesitation, she opened her mouth, and together they crossed a barrier that they knew would eventually take them all the way. Their tongues danced with each other, and Carol found herself squirming in her seat as she felt herself growing moist with sexual excitement.

Then she felt Carl's hand on her breast under her open coat, but over her sweater, blouse and bra. He was gently massaging her there, waiting for a signal from her whether to proceed or stop. She shrugged her coat off, and he took that as the okay to slide his hand under her sweater.

He paused to pull the tail of her blouse out of the waist band of her skirt, then slid his hand up over the bare skin of her stomach to the bottom of her bra. With practiced ease, Carl lifted the bottom of the bra forward and up, and it slipped up over her breasts and gathered around her upper chest, leaving her breast free for his hands to explore. He caressed the erect nipples one by one, then pinched them slightly. He hefted her breasts one at a time, noticing that they were firm and ample, soft and yielding to him.

Then he felt he hand on his crotch, rubbing up and down over his hardening penis, and he knew she was ready to go all the way. She reached for his zipper, and opened his pants, reached inside the opening, through his underwear, and grasped his now-throbbing cock.

Carol's head was in a whirl. She couldn't believe what she was doing. She knew it was crazy risky, parked in front of her own house, necking and petting with her college professor while her husband and daughter slept only a few feet away. But the thrill was making her hot like she had not been with John for years. She knew she was wet down below, and wanted Carl to touch her there.

Carl twisted in his seat, liberating his right arm. He pulled Carol's sweater and blouse up until they, too, were perched on her upper chest and her breasts were visible in the dim reflected light from the streetlights. As he started to manipulate her breasts with his right hand, and while Carol gripped her hand up and down along the length of his cock, her slid his left hand under her skirt.

Unconsciously, Carol had spread her legs apart a little. She was concentrating on the delightful feeling of his large hard-on in her hand and the luxurious feelings he was giving her by massaging her tits.

Then, she felt his hand come into contact with her panties, and everything suddenly got very real. She was sitting here, in the blast from the heater of this old car on a cold winter's night, with her breasts hung out for all the world to see, holding onto the cock of her college professor while he was about to put his fingers in her cunt. It was if she had suddenly woken up from a sex-induced trance.

"Oh, Carl! We can't do this! Oh, my God!" Carol let go of his penis and slid away on the slick seat of his old Plymouth, away from Carl's probing fingers between her legs. Suddenly, she was out of the direct air flow from the heater, and she realized her breasts were exposed to the freezing night air. She reached up under her blouse, and pulled her bra back into position. She pulled her blouse and sweater down, and straightened herself up. She struggled into her coat as she dimly saw Carl pushing his manhood back into his pants and zipping up.

"Oh my! Carl! That was nice, but we really can't go any further. Uh, thank you for a really nice night. I've got to get inside!" As she started to open the door, the dome light came on, and Carl leaned across the seat and grabbed her by the chin one more time. He kissed her, open-mouthed, and she couldn't resist kissing him back. After a few long seconds, Carol disengaged, grabbed her purse and ran across the yard and up the steps. While she was fumbling with her keys, she saw Carl's long, dented old blue Plymouth pull forward out from under the tree, and once he could see that she was safely inside, he quietly cruised away into the night.

Inside the darkened house, John stepped away from the window. He had been watching them for over half an hour. He realized that they believed they were invisible inside that dark car, but they were dimly visible to him from inside the even darker house. He couldn't see exactly what they were doing, but they were close together on the front seat of the car, not talking apparently, but moving against one another rhythmically.

It didn't take a genius to guess what was going on out there. The idea gave John an erection, and while he watched, he rubbed himself gently through his sweat pants. When the dome light eventually went on, he clearly saw Carol and her professor give each other a deep kiss before Carol hurried away, and her professor drove off into the night.

While Carol was fumbling to unlock the front door, John went back to bed, leaving her to assume that her activities in the car were still her secret from him. After Carol shed her clothes and put on her dowdy flannel nightgown, he rolled over and hugged her. "Did you have a good time?" he asked, all innocently. "Yeah, it was fun," she answered truthfully. Each of them was talking about something supposedly secret that each assumed other wasn't aware of, and each was keeping the pretense of an innocent evening out.

As John reached under Carol's nightgown, he discovered she was soaking wet between her legs. He moved his hand up further and found her nipples distended and rigid with excitement. He knew her excitement wasn't for him, but he took advantage of it, and proceeded to massage her breast with one hand and her pussy with the other, until she was panting with desire.

John slipped her flannel nightgown up her body, revealing her slim, sexy body to him in the dim light filtering in from the streetlights outside. He stripped off his own sweat pants, and lifted himself over her. She eagerly spread her legs, thinking of Carl as she grasped John's hardened penis and guided it to her opening, thinking of how much bigger and different Carl's hard cock had seemed, and as John pressed himself into her, she imagined it was Carl's penis that was probing her wetness.

While he thrust into her, John was also thinking of her professor and her willingness to be sexually involved with another man. He was confused but excited by the idea of his wife having sex with another man, keeping her illicit sex life a secret from him, a secret that he secretly knew about.