I'll See You After Class

Patrick. Oh Patrick. Where do I begin? That's not what I call him aloud - I have to call him Dr. James, because Patrick is what his colleagues call him.

I'll never know exactly why I fell for him, or why I fell so hard. Of course I saw the ring on his finger. Of course I saw he was my superior. But I didn't care.

He isn't a handsome man, my Patrick. He is in his early forties now, almost completely bald except for the blonde bits that grow on the sides of his head, and he shaves those down. The stubble on his face too is blonde, and he has thick rimmed glasses which nearly hide his soft grey eyes.

His body, however, is lovely. He is tall and slender, his hands large with perfectly sculpted fingers, his skin is a beautiful cream canvas accross his body. His backside, further more, is perfectly round like a half moon, and firm like a man half his age.

Is it any surprise I dreamt of him? Is it any surprise that after the first night I saw him, my first class with the man, I went home and fingered myself all night thinking of that gorgeous body of his against mine?

That was in August. I knew I wanted to feel his hands all over me for real, to feel his hips against mine, to dig my fingers into his ass and rake my nails against his back.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was mid November, and I was only a sophmore in college, 19 years old and failing most of my classes. Patrick's class was Classical Literature, meaning we were covering

Greek and sometimes Roman and Helenic Egyptian works. We hadn't done much on mythology, as that's for another class, but Patrick wanted to touch on it a bit to give us some background in it before we were off to the next semester.

In a week we would be free to go home and enjoy our Thanksgiving vacation. Except I wouldn't be enjoying it; I was failing and terribly depressed.

Patrick's class was a night class, from 6 to 8:50 at night, the graveyard shift of college courses. This was not my first, nor my last of these, so I knew the perils that came with it. No one wanted to be there, not even the professor, and when it was over everyone shot out the door.

He'd just finished explaining that there was extra credit being offered and to see him after class. And hell I needed that extra credit!

At the stroke of 10 before, like a herd of animals, everyone was up and out, chatting and screaming, so glad to have the rest of their Thursday night off. All but me. And

Patrick standing at the front of the class.

"Yes?"

"Uh, Dr. James, I was hoping to get some extra credit?"

"Oh good! Are you free tomorrow?"

"What time?"

"2 in the afternoon."

"I should be."

"Okay, see me in my office then. I'll give you your assignment."

I nodded, throwing my bag over my shoulder and left. I needed these points badly, lest I get put on academic probation once more.

When I got back to my dorm, after I'd taken a shower and prepared for bed, I laid down and thought about Patrick. My roomate was down the hall, so I slipped my hand down my pants, finding the part of me that had grown moist at the mention of him. Thinking about his bald head between my legs, his tongue lapping against me, I came hard but stifled it so no one in the dorm would hear.

Another unfulfilled night.

The next day was bitterly cold, and the remnants of dead leaves were fluttering everywhere accross campus. The university was situated in an area that got the coldest

winters and hottest summers, so it was like living in hell any given time of the year. It was one of those days you would just want to stay in bed, or take a hot shower, or cuddle with a puppy or something.

Around 2 I found myself walking briskly accross campus, trying to make it to the box building Patrick's office was in, not even wanting to go now and instead wanting to take refuge in the warm library.

The building itself was cold too, the breeze coming in through the doors and freezing the hallways.

Patrick's office was at the end of the hallway. I ran and jumped inside the office, thanking God there was a small portable heater in there. Patrick was at his computer.

"Oh, good thing you stopped by!"

"What's the extra credit?"

"Well, it's a quick quiz. Just write down one of the mythological stories in summary. It's five points."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

He handed me a sheet of yellow legal paper, "You can go out in the hallway, I know it's cold but it's quiet out there."

I sat in the tiny desk outside his office. A summary of a Greek myth? Easy, Persephone and Hades. I'd always liked that one.

The bitter cold came in and nipped at my skin. Ah, must be her time with Hades right now.

I went back in and handed the paper to him when I was done.

"Ah, done already?"

"Yep."

"Good, let me see." he read it over, "Persephone. I'd always liked that one myself. Romantic yet sad. It's hard to pick between lovers and family isn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so." I said.

"What would you pick?"

I frowned, "Well I don't know. I'd probably pick my lover."

"Why's that?"

I shrugged, "Family, particularly parents can only offer you so much. If you stay with them too long you become stifled as a person. With a lover you have a chance to grow, the chance to feel love for someone who isn't of blood. That's what you have to do to become a full person, so I'd pick my lover."

"Interesting," he said, "But it sounds about correct. You chose to go away to college to become a full person? To escape your parents and stagnation?"

I laughed, "Indeed I did, sir."

"Are you leaving your parents for your lover, too?"

"No, I don't have one right now."

He arched his brow, "Oh no?"

"No, not one. But, when the day comes and I do have a lover I will leave my parents for him."

"And what are you looking for in a lover? Something unattainable, since you don't have one now?"

"Unattainable? I'd hope not." I said, "Only someone who is passionate and charming are the requirements. Everything else, well, I'll leave that up to fate to decide."

"Hmm, sounds a bit like me," he joked.

I didn't laugh. He must've caught me looking, must've seen the desire in my eyes when he said that.

"It does sound like you." I said sadly.

His jaw nearly dropped, "I - I - what?"

"Nevermind," I said, "Forget I said anything."

I picked up my bag and was about to open the door handle when I felt his hand on my bicep.

"Wait," he said, "Just wait."

I turned to him. His glasses were off. His eyes were weary looking, deep circles under them from never truly using them and having only the lenses doing the work. I wondered if he could even see me.

There was a light sweat on his brow, odd in this cold.

I was the first to speak, "I'm sorry Dr. James. It was uncalled of for me to talk to you like that."

I was about to turn away once more but his lips caught mine. Oh his lips, so soft and supple, laying lovely fleshy kisses accross my face.

Before I knew it my hands were on the back of his head, pressing him closer to me, feeling his heat against me.

His hands were in my shirt, feeling around, gently squeezing my tits. His other hand came and undid the buttons on my shirt, and it fell to the ground, to quickly be followed by my bra.

Quickly his lips were on my nipples, latched on, licking me and kneading me. I managed to get my hands down to his shirt and undid all the buttons I could reach. He stopped for a moment and began frantically getting his shirt and undershirt off. Meanwhile I undid my jeans and slipped them as well as my panties and shoes off.

When he looked back up he saw me completely nude, and for a moment he said nor did anything. It was a fast moment, but I saw the look of hunger in his eyes, the amazement he was about to screw one of his students, probably for the first time.

He came towards me, and swiftly grabbed my hips. His lips came down to kiss accross my abdomen, the inner parts of my hips and my upper thighs. I knew where he was going and I was wet in anticipation, the smell of me filling up the immediate area.

First sitting on the groundm, my legs were spead and he dipped his head in, the feeling of his tongue lightly flicking my clit brought a jolt through my body. He reached around and grabbed my ass, holding on hard enough that it would leave bruises.

I felt his mouth circle around my clit, sucking gently while he rubbed my ass. He stopped then, and pulled back, removing one of his hands to shove one of his perfectly sculpted fingers inside of me. He pressed around for a moment until he found the nub of sensitive flesh on the roof of me, and when he noticed my reaction to it he smiled.

Moving forward again, his tongue reached up inside me, pushing forcefully on my g spot. I almost screamed from the sensation. He moved it back and forth, until I was so close to orgasm that I grabbed his head and shoved his head closer to me, his nose near my clit and his chin burrowing into my ass cheeks. I came hard, moaning and

writhing as I caressed his bald head, squirting my juices into his mouth. When it was over I noticed him above me, grinning. After my head stopped spinning I sat up and saw his pants were now off and his boxers were pulled so his manhood was hanging over the brim.

He held his hard, beautiful cock in his hand. It was wide in girth and average in length, pink and circumsized, the tip of his prick as bald and smooth as his head. His balls were tight for a man of his age, hanging fairly close to his body in their wrinkly pink sack.

His pubes were dark blonde, much like the remnants of hair on his head were. I thought this was odd, but supposed I should've expected it - his eyebrows were blonde too.

His hand moved to the base, his palm resting against those weird blonde pubes, his fingers tightening around the shaft. "Help me out here," he husked.

I moved forward, slowly slipping my lips around the pink, tender head. He gave a little moan of appreciation so I continued.

Slowly I slipped back and forth accross him, sucking him, my tongue caressing the underside of his dick, my hands kneading his balls gently. He was staring down at me intently, so interested in how I was working him.

I felt his hands behind my head, pressing me further, until I felt his cock reach the back of my mouth. I choked a little as I felt it move past that reflex, and down into my virgin throat.

He pushed in and out in shallow strokes, fucking me in a way I'd never been before. It was almost terrifying, not knowing how to react and feeling myself becoming shorter of breath as I nearly gagged on him. Much to my relief he pulled out though, and brought his hand down to tug on his dick.

"I'm gonna cum soon," he said, jerking away.

I stuck out my tongue and started licking the tip as he jacked, tasting a bit of precum.

There was a sound from him as he came, almost like that of a wounded animal. First I felt it on my tongue but then he stepped back, letting his cum splash all over my face.

His cum was thick and sticky, hot and dribbling out of him. He threw his head back and closed his eyes as he came, his hand gripping around mine, savoring the feeling.

When it was over he looked down at me, my face covered in his cum, a bashful look on his face, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay."

I took my index finger and wiped some off the tip of my nose, and then licked it off, tasting him. He was salty and vaguely sweet.

He licked his own lips, still moist with my fluids. I leaned up to kiss him, to feel his soft pink tongue inside my own mouth, our juices mingling together.

Slowly he pulled me atop him, and we laid for a bit on the floor, not saying anything, just indulging in the feel of skin against skin and my silky hair billowing accross his tender parts.

His chest was smooth and hairless and I spent this time running my fingers accross it, caressing the sensitive pink nipples that sat like coins on his bony chest.

After a bit he asked, "When can I see you again?"

"Next week."

"Good," he said, "I'll see you after class."

And that's how my affair with my professor began.

-----------

Our spot was a hotel just outside of town that we would go to every Wednesday night after class. We had a suite we went to, it was room C-24, on the third floor with a king size bed and a nice bathroom. We made good use of both.

I learned some things about him during these romps - like how he was in the process of divorcing his wife or how he was looking to transfer to another college. I only halfheartedly listened though, I was too busy staring at him as we drove, awaiting the treasures that laid ahead of me.

One of my most vivid memories is of our last time in that room. It was early February, and we ran in to escape the cold, picking up our key and making the elevator ride up. I waited, instead of attacking him with kisses like I usually did.

Immediately after the door was locked the clothes were off and the lights dimmed. He was reclining on the bed, his dick hard and jutting out at me as if it was beckoning.

"C'mere." he said, motioning.

I sat in his lap, his hard prick probing me, nestling inside as I pushed against his hips. I stopped with a sigh, his cock completely inside me now, my legs wrapped round his waist.

We sat like that for a moment, just feeling each other. We ran our hands and nails against hot flesh, lips sucking on any bit of inviting skin, teeth occasionally catching and scratching each other.

Then I started to push against him, feeling him sliding in and out, my breasts swaying in his face. A playful hand reached up and slapped one, grinning he took a nipple in his mouth, giving it a loving suck as it popped back out of his mouth because of my movements.

He turned me over, first plowing me from behind as I bit into a pillow, but then he flipped me again so I was under him. He lifted me onto him, his hands on my hips as he thrust into me.

"You're beautiful." he husked into my ear, "You're lovely."

He kissed my lips and whispered against me, "I want you."

I pulled him closer, cradling his head as he filled me up. "I want you too," I said, "I always will."

I bit down on his shoulder, rubbing his biceps and coming up to meet his thrusts. He put his head in the crook of my neck, his hot breath tickling me.

We tried our hardest to synchronize our orgasms when we fucked - though I've never been able to before or since, I managed it a surprising number of times with him. I felt his mouth envelope my ear, the tell tale first sign of his iminent release. Then what he would whisper, "Come with me, please, come..."

I brought my hands down and stroked my clit softly, soon feeling his warm hand come over mine, his middle finger rubbing wildly next to mine. I felt the building and I could tell he was nearly about to release himself. A few seconds after I hit those ecstatic crests he became rigid and pushed his whole length into me, gritting his teeth as he came.

It was toe curlingly good that night. Afterwords we jumped in the shower, massaging each other under the hot water, I didn't know it would be the last time. I didn't know I shoulder savor every moment of it and every caress because I was about to lose it.

It all ended quite abruptly, our little affair. That weekend I tested positive - positive for pregnant.

At first he was upset, but he regained his composure. I asked him what we should do.

He was against abortion. Didn't believe in the principal of it. So we decided I would have the baby and sign my rights away, making him sole guardian, letting him raise it.

We kept in touch during my pregnancy, but we never had another tryst. This disappointed me, but perhaps he was too worried about my health. Either way, he lost his flame for me during that period.

In late August I had our baby. It was a girl. I held her only once before I gave her over to him. He seemed happy though, enchanted almost. In his fifteen or so years of marriage he'd never had any other children so this was new to him, exciting.

The new semester started, and I wasn't anywhere near his side of the campus. I never saw him at all, nor heard anything about our child.

Somehow, I was able to put it all behind me that semester, push it out of my mind. I even got a boyfriend. I've since broken up with him, though.

Now it's October, and in November it will be the two year anniversary of our affair. I'm back in literature classes, so I'm back in his buildings again.

Sometimes I see him and our daughter.

She is beautiful, strangely beautiful coming from two homely parents. Her hair is blonde and wavy, her eyes are grey and at 14 months already has glasses since she has her father's impairment. She is a sweet child, happy, always giggling.

He brings her around campus. All the girls gather and coo over her, how she's so cute, how they want one of their own. I know what they're thinking when they look at him - how they want him - want some of his obviously good genes.

Maybe he can find a mother for our daughter, but hopefully it's a woman of his own age, not a girl of mine. Even I, mature for my age, can not truly support a child yet. I hope he finds someone decent.

I will be leaving the university in May when I graduate, and head on to either graduate school or technical school depending on how the economy is going by then. Either way, I'll probably never see Patrick or my daughter again.

It's odd now that I think about it, though, and when I see him proudly carrying her around campus, her little hands tugging at his jacket. I guess her name fits her. He calls her Sophie, but her real name is Persephone.