Her Favorite Professor

Megan took a deep breath as she walked down the hallway, readying herself for the conversation she was about to attempt. She wasn't even sure yet how she would start it. Actually admitting it—and doing something about—terrified her.

He made her nervous. Not that he'd ever been anything but nice to her before. But nice was different than wanting to be intimate. Megan wanted to be intimate though. It wasn't just a physical thing. Maybe that wasn't surprising, considering the difference in their age, but that hadn't stopped her attraction to him yet. He was handsome enough, but not distractingly so. He was brilliant and kind and funny and always made time for her.

Megan stopped a couple feet away from an open door with a plaque on it that read Prof. David Collins. She ran her fingers through her long dark hair, trying to smooth it, and then adjusted her shirt a little. She hadn't worn a bra that day, so her sensitive nipples threatened to harden into little pebbles every time the cotton fabric lightly brushed them. She tried not to let that distract her.

"Hi." She poked her head into her English professor's office. He was alone. "Do you have a minute?" she asked.

He turned his attention from the computer screen in front of him to Megan and gave her a smile. "Sure. Come in." He took off his wireframe glasses and set them on the desk.

Megan shut the door without asking and sat down in the chair across from her favorite professor before he could request otherwise. She'd been in his office many times before, but she'd never closed the door behind her. "I just wanted to thank you for everything." She hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt. "This is my last semester."

"It was a pleasure having you, Megan. Truly." His light brown eyes were warm and comforting, giving her the feeling everything he said was genuine. His hair was about the same color as his eyes, wavy, and would have been considered a medium length style for a man.

"I learned so much from you. And my writing has changed. I didn't understand—I didn't know—well, writing is art too and doesn't always have to follow rules."

"I've enjoyed seeing your writing evolve and your creativity blossom. Do you have plans to transfer to a different college to finish your English degree?" A reasonable assumption considering she'd only taken his 100 and 200 level courses. But a lot of them. One each semester. Two in one semester once.

"Not exactly... I'll graduate high school in a couple weeks and then I'm going to an art school so most of my credits from here won't mean much there unfortunately—it's still a four-year program."

"High school." He looked dumbfounded. "I had no idea you were in the accelerated program."

Megan genuinely hadn't been able to remember if she'd mentioned it before or not, but his look of shock gave her the answer. Of course, he would have had plenty of students over the years that were juniors and seniors in high school finishing their final classes through the college and getting credit for both. That was certainly not unique to Megan, but it wasn't something she usually mentioned unless it needed to be discussed. It was nice just to fit in sometimes.

She nodded. "I'm glad I took so many of your classes, because I don't get to take anything like it after this...it's strictly classes related to our major, so I'm really grateful I got the chance to have you first."

She could see the gears in his head turning as he continued to process the new information.

"Megan," he said slowly, "when did you turn 18?"

"A few months ago." She knew what he was thinking about. "Before we met for coffee."

He looked relieved at that. "That's good. Even though it was strictly about literature, it would have been inappropriate."

"Don't worry, Professor, I was 18 then. And I didn't tell anyone. Not that I felt I had to keep it a secret," she added quickly, not wanting him to think she'd thought of it as anything more than educational.

It looked like he was about to tell her—not for the first time—she could call him by his first name, but apparently decided not to. Perhaps he understood now why Megan had never addressed him that way before. She was in high school. Still accustomed to using Mr. and Ms., not having known anything else in a classroom setting.

"Your writing skill is far beyond your years, Megan," he told her. "The piece you read in class last week—it's not everyday someone leaves a classroom speechless and so unanimously uncomfortable."

"Thank you," she beamed, knowing it was a compliment and feeling a surge of pleasure from his praise. "I've never written like that before. I didn't know I could. Thank you for that assignment."

"I'm glad it struck a chord with you," he said with a kind smile. Megan loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkled a little when he gave her that genuine smile. "So, where will you be going after this?"

"Parson's. In New York."

"Congratulations, Megan. I'll admit, it does surprise me you won't be following your writing talent, but it sounds like you're on an exciting path and I'm sure you'll be extremely successful wherever it leads."

"Thank you," she said, looking down at her hands. His praise was intoxicating but she wasn't there to talk about school. "I really look up to you, you know. And just, um, everything you've done to help me. Thank you." She paused. "Sorry I keep saying that. But that's why I came here today, and it just really means a lot—everything you've done to help me."

Megan stood up as if she was going to leave, though she had no plan to. He also got to his feet, no doubt intending to walk her to the door and bid her farewell. But when they reached the door, instead of opening it, Megan flipped the lock.

"What are you doing, Megan?" he asked slowly.

"I told you, I wanted to thank you." Her back was against the door, blocking the handle, and Professor Collins stood right in front of her.

"I do appreciate your thanks, and I'm so glad these classes were meaningful to you, but this is my job, Megan. No additional thanks is needed."

"I know. But I want to."

His eyes went wide as she reached for his belt which he was wearing with blue jeans. "What are you—Megan, you can't act like this."

"It's okay, Professor, I'm 18 now," she reassured him. Megan wondered absently if he had children of his own. He didn't wear a wedding ring but that didn't mean anything. She'd probably be close in age to them if he did. Did he have a daughter her age? She was sure that thought was supposed to make her cringe, but instead it sent a forbidden shiver of excitement through her.

"That certainly does not make it okay." He didn't want to want her, but she could see the truth in his eyes. And his pants.

"You're hard," she said, looking blatantly at the outline of his package which was growing more obvious by the second. He didn't seem to have an argument for that. "You've imagined it, haven't you?" she said, her voice, low and sensual.

"No," he replied, in barely a whisper as she unbuckled his belt.

"I know you try not to, but I've seen you look at me before." He'd never admit it now that he knew she'd been underage most of the time they'd known each other but she knew. "It's okay. I've thought about it before too."

"I'm sorry." He backed up as Megan nudged him back to his chair, sitting down again. "You do have a tendency to wear very short shorts."

She was pleased he'd noticed.

"Someone could see, Megan," he nodded at the window. The horizontal blinds were down but not closed. "We can't do this."

"No one can see us," she chuckled. Of course, she had checked when she was walking up to the building, wanting to know in advance if anyone passing by would be able to see into the window of his second-floor office. Between the angle, blinds, and light reflection, it was impossible to make out details inside his office.

"You can look at me now, Professor, I'll show you all of me." She pulled the lightweight blue cotton shirt she'd been wearing over her head, revealing her full, pert breasts. "Do you like them?" she asked hopefully.

He nodded, looking dazed, as if in a dream. "You're a beautiful young woman, Megan."

She sank to her knees in front of him. Her fingers were working to undo the button and zipper on his jeans. She licked her lips, unable to believe her fantasy was coming true. Professor Collins was no longer trying to push her away, seemingly accepting his fate and likely still wondering if this was real life or a very vivid dream.

Megan delicately pushed the slit at the front of his black briefs aside, allowing his cock to spring out. It was a nice dick, she thought, though she'd only ever seen two others in real life to compare it to. He was circumcised, lightly veiny, and the swollen pink helmet made her want to suck it like a lollipop. Megan wasn't in any position to estimate size, but it looked comparable to the others she'd seen.

She looked up from his cock, meeting his gaze. His light brown eyes were fixed on her. She rested her hands on his thighs, sliding them up his legs as she worked up the nerve to touch his privates. She was inexperienced, but she was determined. She reached for it, slowly taking it in her hand. It was warm, and it twitched when she squeezed it slightly. She'd thought that he'd been completely hard before, but as she moved her hand up his shaft, she felt it growing more rigid and even a bit bigger.

Megan took a deep breath, feeling a little nervous as she lowered her head. He'd probably experienced a million blowjobs in his life. Megan had only given a dozen or so, and just to one person. He'd said she was good at giving head, but what did a teenager really know?

Megan was worried that if she delayed much longer, Professor Collins would come to his senses and push her away. Wasting no more time, she placed her lips on the head, liking the way it responded when she touched it. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the tip before popping it into her mouth completely and sucking lightly.

"Oh fuck..." he swore under as she started to pleasure him, making her smile internally.

She slowly licked his shaft from base to tip. She did it again, gently caressing his manhood with her tongue as it reached its fully erect state. She teased the head some more, making it glisten with saliva. Then she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and slowly pumped it up and down as she suckled the tip.

Professor Collins let out a sigh. She glanced up—his eyes were half closed in pleasure but his attention was still on Megan. Feeling more confident, she began to bob her head up and down allowing more of his dick to enter her mouth each time. Drool was leaking out of Megan's mouth, over her fingers, and dampening the fabric of his underwear, but she didn't care.

"Oh god," he gasped. His hands tightened on the armrests of his chair.

Megan's eyes flicked up. He liked it, obviously, but he wasn't grabbing her by the hair or ramming his cock down her throat excitedly as she expected. She started to pump his shaft a bit more vigorously while she sucked, but there were subtle changes in his reactions that made her think he didn't like the new technique as much.

She slowed her pace once more. She sucked steadily on the tip, focusing on relaxing her throat as she got ready to guide his piece deeper into her. She'd deep-throated before and wasn't worried about gagging too badly. She just hoped he would like it. His hard rod had reached the back of her mouth, and her eyes watered as she slid his cock down her throat. She stayed still, trying to relax enough to get a breath through her nose before starting to move. Slowly, she pulled back an inch and then pushed it back in all the way. She repeated this, throat fucking him lightly. She started to suck on it, swallowing the full length of his hard-on, and letting her throat tighten around it.

"Oh fuck." He was breathing heavily. "Fuck."

She felt his cock flex in her throat before it started pulsing and pumping out semen. Most of it bypassed her mouth but she had to pull back a bit and capture his manhood in her mouth while she breathed. She tasted the slightly bitter, salty taste on the back of her tongue as she sucked the last drops of cum from him. Megan didn't suck too vigorously but she didn't let his cock slide from her mouth until his piece had stopped twitching completely. She sat back on her heels and wiped her face on the back of her hand, looking nervously up at him and waiting for her critique.

"Thank you," he breathed, pushing his hair back from his face with one hand.

"You enjoyed it?"

"Very much," he nodded. Megan couldn't help frowning a bit. Seeing this, he said, "Did you think otherwise?"

"Well, you weren't grabbing my head and fucking my face, and I thought that was what you'd do if you were into it?"

He looked as confused by her as she felt by him. "Face fucking is not a required part of a blowjob, Megan. I didn't want to change what you were doing because it felt so good. You did a wonderful job, thank you."

"Oh good," she felt relieved. "Thank you." Megan dabbed at the moisture under her eyes, glad she wasn't wearing much makeup as it surely would have run down her face when she'd teared up while fighting her gag reflex. "I was wondering one other thing," said Megan quietly. He nodded, inviting her to ask, "Do men, um, your age...go again?" Feeling embarrassed for asking, she quickly added, "Sorry, I'm probably not supposed to ask that sort of thing."

"You know you can always ask questions," he said, making Megan feel like she was in class in a comforting kind of way. "Everyone is different. But speaking for myself, I'm sure that you could get me hard again, though one blowjob is already a very generous thank you."

"I didn't mean for another blowjob," she said hesitantly. "I know I said this was a thank you, but there's one more thing I want you to teach me before I leave..." She swallowed, feeling nervous again. "Can you," she bit her lip shyly, "make love to me? So I know how it's supposed to be?" Knowing he was probably about to protest, she quickly continued, "I've only done it once before, and I didn't really like it. But I think sex is supposed to be nice, right? And I thought maybe a man who's experienced and that I trust could help me."

He raised his brows. "There's a difference between finding a more experienced lover and choosing a man who's more than three decades older than you," he pointed out.

"There doesn't have to be. I'm attracted to you," she blushed. "Or do you not find me attractive because I'm so young? I understand if—"

He shook his head. "You're very attractive, Megan. Mind and body."

"Please, Professor," she looked up at him imploringly, "I really need your help."

Megan was ready to make an argument defending that sex was no more inappropriate than a blowjob and the line had already been crossed. But he nodded, and she realized additional convincing would not be necessary.

"Have you ever received oral sex, Megan?" he asked.

"A little. It was okay but I dunno if it's really my thing," she shrugged. "Seems a bit overrated."

"I'm going to try to change your mind. Sit on my desk with your legs apart," he instructed, standing up from his chair.

She got to her feet and did as he said, perching on the edge of his desk and facing him, knees spread.

"Maybe I should have mentioned you need to take your pants off for this," he chuckled, and she realized he was teasing her.

She blushed, about to undo her pants, but he was already standing in front of her, doing it himself. Her heart raced as she looked at him, suddenly so close to her. Despite the fact that she had just had his dick in her mouth, this moment—standing only inches away while stripping her of clothes—felt far more intimate. She stood up again so he could slide her jean shorts over her hips, letting them fall to the floor. Her white panties were still on. They were cotton—casual—but had a small lace trim on the edges. She let out a little gasp as he put his hand between her legs, rubbing the crotch of her panties lightly. He surely would have felt the heat of her sex and the dampness of the fabric. Then he pulled those down too and Megan sat on his desk again, this time bare-bummed, legs together shyly.

He parted her legs, eyes fixed on her womanhood as she exposed it. His reluctance had finally broken to lust. "So beautiful," he murmured. He examined the area between her legs, taking in the groomed triangle of pubic hair and then down to her pink petals and probably even seeing her slit, shining with the proof of her excitement.

"Thank you," she breathed, appreciating the affirmation.

"Have you ever had an orgasm, sweetie?" he asked.

The way he called her sweetie made her heart race. She nodded. "By myself," she flushed deeply, realizing she was admitting to touching herself. "Not with anyone else though."

"I hope we can change that today. I'd like to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

"Oh, okay," she breathed as he knelt on the floor between her legs. She hadn't been expecting that.

Using his thumbs, he parted her lips. Megan felt exposed. No one had ever examined her privates so closely before except a doctor. But the desire in his expression made her feel good about it. He leaned in and started to tease at her clit lightly with his tongue, making her shudder with anticipation. He gently fingered the entrance of her hole. She could tell by the way his fingers slid around so easily that she was slick with juices.

He probed lightly with his tongue, exploring her folds with his fingers as he did and smearing her juices all over. She couldn't help squirming a little as he tongued her sensitive bud. He wasn't even really fingering her, just teasing around the outside, but the attention he was paying to her clit made her whole body tingle in pleasure.

He ran his tongue along her slit. Tasting her nectar. Megan moaned in delight as he pushed his tongue inside her while he rubbed her clit with his thumb. Then he worked one finger inside her tight place, making her squeal a little.

He stopped what he was doing, looking up at her. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Please don't stop," she breathed. She reached down to stroke his thick hair—brown flecked with grey and sandy blond—enjoying the feeling of it between her fingers. He smiled and returned to what he had been doing. He began to suck on her clitoris, lightly flicking it with his tongue. With his finger inside her and his tongue working over her little button, it was too much. "P-professor," she gasped, "you're going to make me—I think it's happening."

She heard a deep, throaty moan of desire from him at her words, but he didn't stop what he was doing. Her pussy tightened around his finger. A little whimper escaped her lips as her legs shook and her pussy convulsed.

He licked up the juices, trickling from her pussy as she shivered in delight. He looked up, taking in the sight of her, and said, "Hopefully that was a little better than the last time."

She nodded shakily. "Thank you. It was really nice."

"Was that really your first orgasm from someone else?" he asked, getting to his feet again.

"First orgasm around anyone else, period."

He looked incredibly pleased by that. "I'm honored."

Megan smiled shyly, feeling she was really the one who felt honored. She watched him take his underwear off, noticing his cock was mostly hard again. She liked knowing he had enjoyed having his face in her pussy. She reached for him tentatively, and he stood still for her. Her fingers went to the collar of the dark green button down he wore, undoing the first button. She met his gaze, seeking reassurance it was okay to keep going. He gave her a small smile and nod and watched her hands move from one button to the next one down.