Introducing Dr. Dalton

The last sound that I expected to hear in the middle of my American Economic History class was my cell phone ringtone. I fumbled desperately inside of my backpack, trying to locate my pink Razr, as the first few lines of Nickelback's "Rockstar" played jarringly loudly. After what seemed like an eternity, I found my phone and shut it off, my face hot and, I'm sure, correspondingly red. I looked up to see Dr. Dalton staring pointedly at me, his eyebrow raised slightly. I blushed even redder and looked down at my notebook.

Forty minutes later, after he dismissed the class, I walked to the front of the room and stood before his desk, waiting to speak with him. There were three other people in front of me; the first two were the typical tiny blond sorority girl types, you know the ones...big hair, fake boobs, and American Eagle miniskirts. I felt slightly irritated as I watched the first one, whose name I think is Stacey or Tracey or Ashley, toss her hair to the side and smile up at the professor. Girls like that inspired annoyance and not a little jealousy; I think that it's safe to say that while I'm not heinously ugly, I've got nothing on the air-headed Cameron Diaz types. I'm about 5'4", extremely curvy with a teeny bit of a belly, and have shoulder-length brownish-red hair and green eyes. As I waited for Stacey and Tabby or whatever their names were to finish flirting with Dr. Dalton, I absently considered him. This is the second straight semester I've had him for class, and that didn't happen accidentally. As soon as I found out that he was teaching another, non-intro-level American history course, I signed up for it, even though I really didn't care at all about the topic.

Dr. Adam Dalton was not really your typical "hot" college professor...and even though he was attractive, that wasn't why I had developed a monster crush on him. He's one of the very few people that I've ever met who's truly, deeply, and passionately in love with his topic; the intensity with which he presents his lectures and leads class discussions is incredibly sexy. He's about 6' tall, average weight, probably around 200 pounds, I would guess, and has brown, close-cropped hair and blue eyes. He has a really sexy professor-y way of dressing; although he only just earned his PhD last fall, he wears corduroy pants and sweater vests and jackets with patched elbows to class. I think it's really, really cute in a dorky way.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the two girls left and I was standing in front of Dr. Dalton. He looked up at me and smiled. "What can I do for you?"

I smiled back at him and said, "I just wanted to apologize for my cell phone going off in class; I can't believe I forgot to turn it off today." Dr. Dalton had finished gathering his things and gestured for me to follow him out into the hallway. "I'm actually on my way to my next class; would you mind talking as we walk?" I nodded my assent and followed him out the door.

He continued as we walked, "Your phone's not a big deal; don't worry about it. I know that it's never happened before and it happens to everyone. By the way, I read your discussion question responses; they're very good." I beamed at the praise, because I worked extremely hard at submitting high-quality work in this class, particularly. "I'm glad you liked it; I wasn't sure if the point that I made about the dichotomy presented by agrarian republicanism and industrial capitalist democracy was what you were looking for or not." The conversation continued in the same vein as we walked across campus to the library and the supplemental classrooms it contained. As we reached the doors of the library, he said goodbye and continued inside, while I made my way next door to the student union building to meet some of my sorority sisters for lunch.

As I set my backpack down on the table and sat down, one of my sisters looked up at me and asked, "why are you so happy?" I winked at her and told her about the conversation I'd had. "He's just so sexy! I love how intense he gets during class. The other day, when he handed back our first paper, I looked through it to the last page and saw that, below the A, he'd written a section about how much he'd liked my way of synthesizing historiography with an elegant writing style. I seriously just wanted to take him upstairs to his office and fuck him on his desk."

She laughed out loud at my last statement: "Isn't he married, though?"

"Yeah...you know what, though, marriage is overrated...ideally, I'd love to help him forget all about it."

"Would you really actually have sex with him if you had the opportunity?"

I smiled thoughtfully and said, "Absolutely. There's no doubt in my mind; I've never been turned on by anyone ever before. And the thing that makes it sexier is that it's a mental attraction...god just thinking about him makes me wet. But I guess it's kind of a non-issue, since I'm positive that he's never flirted back when I've tested things out. I think, unfortunately, that the only place I'll ever be fucking Dr. Dalton will be in my dreams."

I sat down and had lunch with them, heading back to the sorority house where must of us lived with everyone else when we were finished. Since that day was a Friday, I wore a really sexy, really revealing outfit that night: tight dark blue low-rise jeans with the lacy red top of my thong sticking out, a low-cut baby-doll black top that accentuated my D-cup breasts really well, and a sexy red lacy bra that peeked out of the top. Friday nights I went out with my sisters to the one (and ONLY) dance club in our college town. The club is best described as a 21-and-over frat party. There are frequently about 300-400 people crammed into a space that can only comfortably accommodate about half that number. That night, I did 4 shots of Jagermeister in quick succession, and had another two mixed drinks on top of that when we got to the bar; needless to say, I was pretty messed up. I took a frat boy home later that night and fucked him, imagining all the time that he was Dr. Dalton. I think I actually might have said Adam's name as I came; I don't imagine that the boy (I think his name was Ryan) noticed.

On Monday morning, I got up early to get dressed and look a little bit extra cute, as I did every Monday before Dr. Dalton's class. I chose a long flowing black skirt, a long bright-blue camisole, and a really low-cut black shirt to layer over top of it. I also wore my demi-cup black lace see-through bra and a pair of black and pink boyshorts that were my current favorite. When I got to class that morning, Dr. Dalton hadn't arrived yet, so I settled into the front desk in the second row and waited. He walked into the room about 2 minutes before class was scheduled to begin, looking a bit lost and very disorganized, which was strange for him. He delivered that day's lecture on the relationship between the American countryside and the American city before and during the process of industrialization only half-heartedly; that was also very unlike him, as he always gave every lecture with a sexy, single-minded intensity. He dismissed the class ten minutes early, which was further unlike him; usually we only left his class with five minutes (instead of the normal fifteen) left to get to our next class.

After class, as everyone else filed out, I made my way up to his desk. He looked up at me after I'd been standing there for a bit; I could tell that I'd interrupted some sort of deep thought process that he'd been engaged in. I said, "I just wanted to ask you about the paper that's due next week; I have some questions as to the style and content requirements." He sighed and said, "If you'd like, you can follow me to my office; my next class isn't until 3:30 this afternoon and I have a lot of catching-up to do on grading for my introductory world history course."

I followed him back to his office yet again; it was located rather haphazardly in one of the older campus buildings; the classroom building that our history department was usually located in was undergoing a complete renovation, and all of the history faculty offices were scattered across campus. His office was on the third floor of Herring Hall, mixed in among English and Chemistry department offices. I'd noticed that every time I'd ventured to his office for a meeting, I'd never once seen anyone else on the floor. I asked him about it as we walked inside. He said, "You know, you're right...I've only ever seen anyone other than my students up here maybe a few times. I suppose that either we just have diametrically opposite schedules, or that they don't really follow their scheduled office hours."

As we walked into the office, he absently closed the door behind us. This was strange because every other time that I'd been in his office, he'd been careful to prop the door open a few inches with a book; I guess maybe it was a professionalism thing. I sat in one of the wooden chairs adjacent to his desk as he settled himself behind it. He stared off into space as I watched, and it was only a few minutes later that he shook himself and said, "I'm so sorry! I have a lot on my mind today, and I know that I'm wasting your time. Now what is it exactly that you needed to talk about?"

I knew that this opportunity, to catch him emotionally off-guard and to possibly establish a different sort of relationship, was too good to be true, and not to be wasted. I made a snap decision as I leaned forward.

"Are you okay, Dr. Dalton? You seem really distracted and upset about something."

He sighed and folded his long fingers together as he said, "Yes, I am distracted today; a lot of things happened at home all at once and I'm having a difficult time coming to terms with them all. But I'm sure that you have better things to do than to listen to me rambling on about my personal problems."

"Not at all; actually I'm just a bit worried about you. I really don't mind listening; I don't have any other classes today."

He opened up over the next half-hour about all of the problems that were plaguing him; they included an unhappy, on the verge of divorce marriage, problems with obtaining funding for his on-going research projects, and his concerns for the health of his grandparents, whom he was very close to and who lived nearly half the country away. I had tuned out temporarily, as I watched him speak; there was some sort of innate grace very evident in his movements that I found really sexy. I tuned back in as he continued, "...and I'm honestly just not sure of what else that I can do to make her happy; she says that she gave up her own ambitions to help me complete my PhD, but none of my offers or suggestions make her happy. I still love her, but it just seems completely hopeless. And you -- " He stopped abruptly and looked up at me, startled.

"What, Dr. Dalton?"

He looked uncomfortable as he tried to play down what he'd said. I gently insisted that he finish, and he did so with great reluctance.

"Well, it's just that I've noticed your passion and your intelligence greatly over the past two semesters; I'd have to be blind not to. You're very rare among students, Allie; you remind me very much of myself at your age. I've talked about you quite a lot at home, and I think that Mandy's noticed; she gets incredibly defensive whenever I talk about your class, and has accused me several times of having improper feelings for you."

My head was spinning as he confessed all of this; I'd never in a million years considered that this could be a mutual attraction.

"I'm so sorry, professor, if I've caused any sort of problems for you -- " , I started to say, but was silenced by his emphatic, negative head-shake and his placing his left hand upon my right hand, which had been lying on his desk.

"Don't be. Really. You have no idea how incredible it's been to have a student who's just as passionate and intense about this subject. Although I've always denied it, I think that Mandy may be right; I'm more than just intrigued by your passion and dedication to your chosen discipline."

As he said the last words, his eyes searched mine; I met his gaze squarely, allowing him access to any answers that he still sought. He seemed to come to some sort of resolution and stood, still holding my hand. I followed him, standing also; he pulled me slowly, hypnotically closer, until I was so close to him that our bodies were nearly touching. He looked down at me and slowly lowered his head, until his lips touched mine.

It was like a current of electricity shot through us; I hungrily kissed him back, our tongues mingling desperately, igniting a need for something more. He moved me back against the wall, pressing himself up against me as we kissed; I could feel his cock hardening against my belly; just feeling it made me wet. He rubbed his hands over my breasts outside of my shirt; I felt my nipples harden from the attention. I opened my legs so that one of his could slip between them, and when it did I rubbed against it, wordlessly seeking more of him.

He pulled me after him, across the room, to the green leather couch situated in the corner of his office. He pulled me down on top of him, positioning me so that I was straddling him. I moved my body so that my dripping-wet pussy was directly over the hardness of his cock, and rode him as though he were inside of me. Growling at me, he flipped me over suddenly, so that I was held captive beneath him. Looking down at me, I could see a new hardness and intensity in his eyes, and he pulled off my shirt roughly. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts so that he could work my nipples to a diamond-like hardness through the transparent material of my bra. Traveling lower still, he pushed my skirt up around my waist, and ever-so-slowly moved his head down between my thighs. I could feel his breath tickle my thighs as his head stopped directly even with my pussy. He slowly extended his tongue and slightly licked at my still panty-covered pussy. The feeling of his hot tongue on my wet pussy, however indirectly, drove me crazy. I grabbed his hair and wordlessly begged him to continue.

He pulled my panties down roughly, and dove back into my pussy, licking up and down the entire length of my soaking slit. He licked around my clit gently, driving me crazy, and slowly inserted one finger into my pussy. I was panting with need by this time, and begged him, "Oh god, Adam, please don't stop. Please make me cum; I can't stand this...." He continued licking around my clit, bringing me closer and closer to the brink; just as I was about to go over the edge, he stopped and looked up at me. I wasn't sure why he'd stopped, and in answer to my silent question, he stood, suddenly, and was naked in front of me, his cock standing angrily at attention. I looked up at him and held his eyes with mine, as I took his hardness into my house. Looking up at him all the while, I licked and sucked around the base, being careful to continue licking as I sucked more of him into my mouth. Bobbing my head back and forth while I cradled his balls between my fingers, I could feel taste the precum leaking out of his cockhead. He growled down at me ferociously as he muttered, "Oh yes, that's right, goddamn it you little slut you like sucking my cock. Oh fuck yes, mmm just like that, fuck I like it when you suck me like that."

Abruptly, he pulled his cock from my mouth and was back on top of me, his cock settled, hard and hot, at the entrance to my pussy. He slowly, torturously, put just the tip inside, and pulled it back out to rub around the opening. I'd had enough; he was slowly driving me mad, and so I said, "Please, goddamn it Adam, I need to feel you inside of me. I need you to fuck me hard with your huge hard cock, professor, please make me cum."

He plunged inside all at once, filling me completely. I gasped from the pleasure of it; I'd had sex before, of course, but never like this. He pulled back out slowly and rammed into me again; I could feel every inch of him stretching my pussy tight around his cock.

He gasped, "Goddamn it you're so fucking tight. You're going to make me fucking cum."

I could feel myself get wetter at his words; I'd never had anyone talk dirty to me before and it was turning me on ridiculously. "Oh god, professor, please keep fucking me. I want you to cum so hard inside of my tight pussy."

He stopped, pulled out, and flipped me over suddenly so that I was on my knees, my ass in the air in front of him. Roughly, he pulled me close to him and entered me in a single stroke. As he pulled out and thrust in again, I felt his balls slap my against my ass. He fucked me increasingly harder, bringing me tantalizingly close to orgasm. Finally, he reached around as he fucked me and lightly rubbed my clit; the combination of the pressure on my clit and the feeling of his cock jarring against my g-spot sent me over the edge. I started cumming around his cock, begging him to keep fucking me and please not to stop. My words sent him over his own edge, for I felt his cock get bigger and harder and then I felt his hot cum shooting up into me, coating the inside of my pussy. It went on for what felt like forever; finally, he finished and pulled out of me. I self-consciously turned over and looked at him, unsure of what would come next.

He looked right back at me, but there was no shame or censure in his gaze. He leaned forward and kissed me deeply, our tongues mingling now somewhat tiredly. He pulled me toward him and I lay against his chest, both of us still breathing heavily.

Just then, his office door (which neither of us had thought about locking) opened and Dr. Goodwin, the head of the history department, walked in. I screamed softly and buried myself as best as I could, against Adam, while he sputtered and turned three shades of red. Dr. Goodwin looked at the both of us evenly and then turned around and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

(The next chapter of this story may be written shortly, depending on the volume and type of feedback I receive.)