In the Teacher's Office

Beth was the best student in my class. I noticed right away that she was attentive and asked good questions. Then when I graded her first paper I was impressed with the quality of her writing and the depth of her understanding of the material. I was even more impressed when I found out that she was majoring in math. It's unusual to find a student who is good at both the humanities and the hard sciences.

Oh, and I guess I forgot to mention: she's a gorgeous redhead with a great figure.

Honestly, my evaluation of her has nothing to do with that. I hadn't even learned the students' names when I graded the first set of papers. And once I realized that her sexy mind was attached to a sexy body, I double-checked her papers to make sure I wasn't grading them more easily or more stringently than they deserved on their own merits.

But intelligence is definitely a turn-on, and when it comes wrapped in a delicious package it's hard not to notice. Beth always sat right in front of class and watched me intently. I noticed that she kept her eyes on my face even if I was talking to another student. Sometimes I felt like I was blushing a little from the attention. Toward the end of the semester, Beth started to wear more low-cut outfits. I had to mentally remind myself, "Her EYES, Peter. Keep looking at her EYES."

Sometimes after class I had a quick mental debate. "Why is she dressing that way? Because that's the way female college students dress when it is warm! Get over yourself! Most of my other students don't dress that way for class. And none of the rest of them stare at me all through class. And look at how her smile brightens when I look at her. That's because she is attentive and ingenuous. That's the kind of student ever teacher wants. Don't sully it with prurient assumptions you pompous ass!"

But a professor is allowed to fantasize, isn't he?

I have to admit that I was a little disappointed that Beth never came to my office hours. She didn't need any extra help, but I certainly would have enjoyed sitting next to her at my desk. So I was happily surprised when she showed up at my office at the beginning of the semester after she had completed my course. She said she had come by to thank me for a great course. I thanked her and told her that it was great having such a great student in my class. We smiled and nodded at each other for an awkward moment. Then she said, "Well, I suppose I should let you get back to work. Thanks again!"

As she turned to leave, I found myself saying, "What topic in the course was most interesting to you? I, uhm, was just wondering."

Beth smiled, put her books down and sat next to me. Our conversation was happy and animated as we discussed various aspects of the readings in more depth. Soon I was pulling books off the shelf and we were reading passages together and discussing them. She looked over my shoulder as I read sections out loud, and sometimes reached over me to point to a word or sentence.

While we were still talking, a class period ended and the halls were filled with mobs of students chattering. It was hard for Beth and I to hear each other over the hubbub. (Really! It was!) "It's kind of loud," I mentioned, looking at the door.

Beth reached over and shut the door before quickly returning to her seat beside me and smiling. I noticed her textbook, which she had left on my desk. "Oh, linear algebra, huh? That's a hard subject. I never really understood matrices."

She looked pleasantly surprised. "You know what a matrix is? But you're a humanities professor."

"Well, I didn't have much of a knack for it, but my graduate training did touch on some topics in advanced math like topology, set theory and linear algebra."

She stared at me intently for a moment, almost like a cat regarding a mouse.

I broke the silence. "Uhm, like I was saying, I never really 'got' matrices. I mean, I know they are part of the mathematical basis of quantum mechanics, but I never understood how. Could you explain it to me in a really simple way?"

"Sure!" she said, smiling again.

We huddled side by side at my desk as she began to review vectors, scalar and matrices to me. It was killing me how smart she was. And this time the textbook was in front of her, so when I looked at an equation I couldn't help but see her shapely breasts. Sometimes she seemed to me to be looking down at the book for unusually long periods of time, almost like she was giving me an opportunity to look at her tits without being "caught." (I noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra.) A couple of times her fingers fumbled with the top button on her blouse. (Nervous affectation? Or a flirtatious sign?) And when she pointed at something in the book I saw that her hands were trembling slightly.

My knee unintentionally touched hers and I instinctively pulled it away. But I noticed that she didn't shift at all. So I let it slide back over toward hers. I waited for her to edge away...but she didn't. All of a sudden my office felt small and hot.

Despite the flow of blood away from my brain and into other parts of my anatomy, I was managing to follow what she was telling me about math. "Wow, it's really impressive how well you understand this stuff. I think I would have enjoyed it more if my own professors had explained it as well."

"I think it's really impressive how much you know." She looked over at me. Our faces were just inches from each other. I could feel her sweet breath on my face. I looked at her inviting lips. We looked into each other's eyes.

"No, no, no," I told myself. "Imagine the scandal if you guys were caught." I made a mental bargain with myself: If she makes a move -- any move -- I'm allowed to respond. If she doesn't, I'm going to be a professional. (Well, "professionals" don't touch knees with their students and sit this close while they stare into each other's eyes, but at least I won't cross over any more lines than I have already.)

Could she see the combination of craving and hesitation in my eyes? I don't know. But the next thing I felt was her hand timidly touching my knee. Now I could see the hesitation in her eyes: she was afraid I would reject her. She was afraid I'd humiliate her by jerking away and lecturing her about "having good boundaries."

Instead I leaned in and kissed her.

She had a skilled and agile tongue. The tip of her tongue teased mine, drawing it into her mouth, then gently wrestled with it. I realized that my hands were stroking her hair, and that hers were exploring me: rubbing my chest, caressing my neck, and tentatively touching my stomach near my belt.

I began to caress her lovely neck. I gave her neck the most gentle squeeze and she gasped with pleasure and sighed, "Oh professor...."

I moved my hand down and cupped her left breast. She squirmed in her seat. I was surprised to hear that I was already talking in my Dom voice when I said to her, "You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, a naughty smile flickering across her lips.

Her nipples had grown hard under my caresses. It was sexy how big they were. I gently pinched her left nipple and she let out a low groan. I could sense that she needed more so I pinched again, much harder this time. Her jaw dropped and her legs twitched as my pinch sent a shock down between her legs.

I asked, "Do you touch yourself when you think of me?"

Her face was already flushed from passion, but she blushed noticeably at the question. When she didn't answer, I kissed her passionately, then tugged on her nipple and said in a more demanding voice, "Tell me how you play with yourself when you fantasize about me! Say it!"

"Oh God, yes, professor! I've been doing it almost every day after class!"

I gave her an evil smile and said, "Good. I like horny girls like you. Now stand up."

Her eyes were wide as she obeyed. I hurriedly jerked her jeans down, pausing briefly to remark on what slutty panties she was wearing, before I pulled them down to her ankles too. I rubbed my fingers over her slit, which was open and slick with her cream. "Someone's all wet and ready," I whispered.

"I am. I've been wet since I walked into your office."

I explored her pussy gently at first: slipping first one then two fingers into her hole, flicking my cream-covered fingers over her clit. But she obviously was ready for more, so I started to alternate rubbing her clit more firmly with finger-fucking her hard and fast.

She was quite a sight: leaning over me as I sat, her jeans and panties around her ankles, awkwardly bowing her legs open so my hand could reach her, her face contorted in lust. Her top was still on, and she noticed that I was staring at her jiggling tits. She quickly pushed herself up and unbuttoned her top before leaning over me again, giving me a perfect view.

"Do you like them?" she smiled.

"I love them," I groaned.

"You almost never looked at them."

"I wanted to. God, I wanted to so badly. I wanted to do this." With that, I took my cream-covered fingers out of her pussy and rubbed, tugged and pinched her nipples. She rested her head on my left shoulder and began to lick my ear as she moaned. Soon I pulled her toward me so I could lick off her nipples the pussy-cream that was now slathered on them. She cupped my head in her arms and nuzzled my hair as I did it.

I quickly reached over and shoved the books off the desk onto the floor. Then I pushed her over onto her back. I thought about pulling her jeans and panties all the way off, but instead I just pushed her knees open and bent down to eat her, her ankles bound behind my kneck. My tongue danced quickly and expertly over her clit while I fingered her. The harder I did it, the wetter she got and the more her hips ground against me. She buried her fingers in my hair as she approached orgasm. Her breathing got more and more rapid, and she let out quiet moans, but kept her voice down so we wouldn't be heard. And when the orgasm overwhelmed her, it felt like every muscle in her body tightened in response to the strain of not screaming.

I gave her pussy a few more licks to make sure she was through coming, then lifted myself up and smiled down at her, spread before me on my office desk. "Thank you," she sighed.

"Don't thank me," I grinned back. "I'm not finished yet." I quickly moved around to the other side of the desk, to where her head was. As I unzipped my pants, Beth tried to roll over, but I held her on her back. She looked at me and blushed, knowing what was coming next. I positioned her head so it was hanging backwards over the edge of the desk, then took my cock and slowly inserted it into her mouth. She caressed it with her lips and tongue as I gradually pushed it deeper and deeper, till I could feel it touch the back of her throat. She coughed and choked slightly. I reached down and pinched her nipples. "Does it make you wet to choke on my hard cock?" I taunted her.

I let my cock slip out of her mouth long enough for her to gasp a quick: "Yes. Very."

"Slut," I growled, and this time I intentionally shoved my cock hard, right to the back of her throat. I began to face-fuck her, and I felt my balls slap against her nose as I pumped in and out. I alternated pinching her nipples and holding her head in place so I could slam faster and deeper into her. Sometimes she choked, and I'd just do it harder. Other times, I'd hold my cock deep in her throat, until she thrashed for air. Spit began to run down around my balls and over her pretty cheeks. "You're a whore for doing this," I whispered.

She moaned with lust and sucked harder in response.

"Stick your tongue out," I ordered. It was hard for her to do at first, but soon we got into a rhythm where I thrust my cock down her throat, and then she slithered her tongue across it as I pulled out. I noticed that her pretty hand had wandered down to her pussy. "Are you so hot from having your face fucked that you need to play with yourself?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm."

"I'm going to wait until you're about to orgasm, then I'm going to shoot my cum all over your face."

She obviously liked that thought a lot. She groaned and began to masturbate much more quickly. As her breathing became ragged and her hips twitched more and more desperately, I pulled out of her mouth and pounded my slick, spit-covered cock with my hand, till I shot a nice stickly load all over her beautiful face. Her face covered in spunk, and her body moist with sweat, she bit her lip and contorted in an intense orgasm.

"Oh God," she panted. "Thank you, Professor!"

"I think at this point you know me well enough to call me 'Peter.'"

She smiled. "Okay, Peter. But during sex I might still want to call you 'Professor.' It's hotter."

I cupped her head in my hands (gently, this time) and kissed her, passionately but affectionately. She seemed to be turned on by the fact that I had no compunction about kissing her when she had my cum all over her mouth and face.

She sat up and I massaged her neck, working out the kinks she had gotten from the acrobatic position we'd just fucked in. As she helped me rearrange my desk, we smiled, blushed and giggled in the way that new lovers do when they're surprised but happy to find that they've consummated their feelings for one another. She had only partially dressed: she put her shirt on but hadn't bothered to button it. Even though I'd just cum, I found my eyes drawn to her lovely tits, which were peaking out. As she leaned over to pick up some files we'd knocked to the floor, I reached around and cupped her right breast, making her gasp with pleasure. She pushed her ass back against the front of my slacks, rubbing against my hardness.

"Ohmygod!" she said. "I didn't know guys your age could get hard again so fast!" Then she laughed nervously and added, "Oh, I didn't mean -- I just meant most middle-aged -- well, I've heard --"

I just laughed back. "It's okay. You're right. Most guys can't. But I'm not most guys." I kissed the nape of her neck. "Besides, most guys don't have women as hot as you half-naked in their office."

She turned around and pulled my cock out from my pants again. "And most students only dream of being this lucky."