Lessons from my Professor

Intro: I recently moved and while unpacking, I came across the journals I kept from my early college years. The flood of memories also had, ahem, other places flooding, given how hot and steamy my affair with my professor was. I was pretty detailed with my entries, and the rest was easy enough to fill in with the memories of the good times that essentially shaped my sex life and turn-ons. My professor's name has been changed, but not much else. Enjoy! xo

--

Early in my 1st semester, my advanced calc professor requested an after-hours meeting to discuss my attitude and behavior. He didn't like that I slept through class, left early or arrived late, was often in my pajamas, and didn't turn in any of my assignments. I could understand him being upset if I didn't know the material, but I did. It was odd how worked up he was about it all and I couldn't fathom why he was so pretentious when he approached me about it.

Sure, he was tall, dark and boy-next-door handsome. And ok, fine... he had his PhD, but he was only 30. It's not like Dr. Michaels had decades of life experience to lord over me, but he was condescending and arrogant, "demanding" my presence.

That particular evening of our scheduled discussion, my last class was Applied Design. It was a late course on the opposite side of campus, ending well after the dining hall shut down. It was drizzling out so I was damp, hungry, and in a foul mood by the time I made it to the math and science building.

It was empty, save one office. Dr. Michaels was sitting behind his desk on the top floor, staring impassively at the doorway, but not making a move or inviting me in. I noticed his slightly tousled hair was damp and curling at the ends. He must've worked out. Instead of his usual jeans and white button-up with rolled sleeves, he was in a t-shirt and dark track pants. He had a great chest and arms normally, but seeing them in this tighter shirt was even better.

"You're late" was his clipped greeting, making me jump and flush for staring at him.

He gave no indication I should enter, but he was the one who demanded this inane meeting so I mentally shook off my nerves and dragged myself into his office, flopping into a chair opposite his desk. I unceremoniously deposited my backpack on the floor with a thud.

Dr. Michaels surged to his feet, making me flinch again. He strode to his door and shut it, a tad harder than I deemed necessary.

His long legs ate up the ground back to his desk where he stopped short in front of me. His leaned on the edge of it, his legs crossed at the ankles. Those brooding, intense eyes did a quiet inventory of me.

I was in my everyday campus attire: short and loose soccer shorts, a baggy, cropped tee that slipped off a shoulder, showing my hot pink bra strap, thin flip flops. His dark eyes settled on mine for what felt like an eternity. Annoyed and uncomfortable, I blurted out "Well, I'm here soooo...let's get it over with."

He didn't move, except for a tick in his jaw. I waited for him to say something, anything, watching the vein in his neck pulse in time with the second hand of the clock on the wall behind him. The room was entirely too tense and the rain had made the air heavy. I needed to be anywhere but in that office. I was famished and ready to bolt.

On a roll of my eyes, I muttered "Whatever, I'm out" and moved to fetch my bag from the floor so I could escape. His eerily quiet command penetrated the silence: "you'll sit."

One moment he was perched against the desk, the next he was leaning down to grip the arms of my chair, effectively caging me and forcing me to drop my butt back into the seat. My bag slipped from my fingers, falling back to the floor. His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated as he stared me down, so close I could feel his body heat and smell his shampoo.

Dr. Michaels took in a deep breath before he unloaded: "You don't care, you don't apply yourself, and you still somehow do better than anyone else. If you're not drawing, you're sleeping. If you're not sleeping, you're daydreaming... or staring at me, smirking. Is it a challenge? Is this all a fucking game to you?"

He turned and raked a hand through his hair before spinning back to me and continuing: "Somehow you ace every test, even when I make them harder than necessary. Even when I give you a different test than the rest of my class. I can see in your exam work how your mind solves problems you shouldn't be able to solve, but then you ignore every basic assignment," he paused, throwing an arm out wide. "You're just barely passing!"

He again leaned down, re-gripping the arms of my chair. "Do you know how frustrating that is to witness? How fucking frustrating YOU are? And you SLEEP THROUGH MY FUCKING LECTURES!"

With that, he pushed himself away from my chair so hard that he scooted it back a few inches. His chest was heaving, his furrowed brow directed at me.

I was startled, confused, and insulted...but mostly mad. I pushed to my feet and drew on my anger, hurling my retort back at him: "I'm an adult!"

"You're 18!"

"You don't know anything about me, what life I've lived, what I've been through. I can make my own decisions!"

I could feel my cheeks getting flushed, I knew my emotions were on my sleeve, but I couldn't stop myself. "I'm paying for my own education. I earned my scholarships, and not because I'm an idiot. I'm working four jobs to pay for the rest, so yeah... I'm sooo sorry I'm exhausted and you feel inconvenienced."

I knew my eyes were wet, tears on the verge of spilling over, but I wasn't finished. "I take every exam, and I'm good at them. I've been taking care of myself since I was 16. Just because you work here doesn't mean you get to speak to me like that! Why do you even care!"

He abruptly stepped into my space, and the oxygen around me evaporated. One traitorous tear escaped and upon seeing it, his face turned feral. At his look, an electric current zinged from my nipples straight to my center. It zinged again when his thumb caught the wetness under my eye, tenderly wiping it away.

He put his hands on my shoulders, his fingers digging into my upper arms, and he shook me slightly. "You drive me insane. Fucking crazy."

He slid his hands down my arms and back up, prompting goosebumps and a sharp intake of my breath. I chanced a glance at him, knowing he was staring me down. His gaze tracked mine as I bit my lip to keep from embarrassing myself with more tears, turning my face away from him, my emotions leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

He tipped my chin up, shaking his head and forcing me to meet his blazing eyes. "Every fiber of my being wants to take you and..."

Was it the look he gave me? Was it the devil inside? How tightly he held me? I don't know what made me go up on my toes, or put my hands on his chest, but I did. When my face was inches from his, I whispered my challenge: "Do it."

Without warning he jerked me hard into his body, catching me off balance, a hand sliding down to my ass and forcing me to plaster myself to his front, clinging to him for support. His other hand fisted into my hair, pulling my head back sharply, exposing my neck, sending tingles across my scalp.

His hand at my ass rose to curl around my lower back, molding me against him. His hand in my hair slid down to my jaw. He turned my head, leaned into my ear and growled "so fucking crazy" before sinking his teeth into my earlobe... "it's all I can think about"... licking the shell of my ear... "every time I see you"... kissing my temple softly... "the things I want to do to you"... his thumb pushing into my mouth... "put you over my knee and make you mine."

At the mental image of being over his knee, my core spasmed. Both my eyelids had already dropped of their own volition and I bit down softly on his thumb. My lips closed around him, softly sucking and stroking with my tongue. "Baby," he groaned, his mouth scorching a hot, wet path from my ear, down my neck, up my jaw.

His hand was back in my hair, fisting it tighter than before, while his other hand slid under my shirt, finding my breast, pinching my nipple. On a gasp of pleasure, my wanton body arched into him, pressing my breast even harder against his palm, seeking more. His mouth crashed ruthlessly down on mine and I half expected to taste blood from the way his teeth smashed into my lips.

I gave as I was given, rising up on my toes to kiss him back. My one hand was fisted in his shirt, the other snaked around his neck pulling him down to me.

He spun us, backing me against his desk. His chest pressed into mine, forcing me to lean back. His arm shot out and papers behind me went flying before he boosted my butt onto the desk, my flip flops sliding off. I looped my arms around his neck while his hands went behind my knees, forcing my legs apart. He stepped between my spread knees, pulling me against him once more.

I could feel his stiff erection through my thin shorts, his hard length pressing between my legs and making me squirm. It was a blur of hands and tongues and moaning and pressing and clothing being tugged and pushed aside.

He pulled my baggy tee off, then jerked the cup of my bra down, devouring my nipple. I arched into his mouth, scratching my nails across his scalp, my legs tightening around his waist. I tugged his shirt up and off. His other hand ran up my inner thigh, straight into the leg opening of my loose shorts until his fingers made contact with my wet pussy.

"Fuuuuck," he groaned against my nipple and I don't know if it was because I wasn't wearing panties or how wet I was, or both.

My shorts quickly disappeared. He wasted no time burying a finger in my pussy and I wasted no time writhing against him, begging until I got the second finger I needed. I was rocking hard against his hand, wanting and needing more, when I moaned "Yesss, professor you feel so good" into his mouth. He stilled, breaking our kiss but leaving his fingers in me, unmoving. Time seemed to stop.

He dropped his forehead to mine, both of us panting on shaky, uneven breaths like we'd just sprinted a mile. I could feel the tension course through his body and knew he was having second thoughts.

I whispered "Please don't" then ground against his fingers. "I need this," I whimpered softly, "I need you." I reached down, wrapping my hand around his strong forearm, keeping his hand in place.

"Please," I tipped my hips, sliding partly off his fingers. "I'll be good," I told him, using his wrist for leverage and grinding back down. "We need this. You need me. I need you."

I continued to fuck myself on his fingers, making promises and begging, until he gripped my pussy, inside and out, stilling me. He paused for a long moment, finally hissing out "We can't do this."

His fingers curling inside my pussy and pressing hard against my swollen g-spot were at odds with his words. I leaned back on both hands, naked and exposed except for my askew bra, begging on shaky breaths. "I need you... please, Dr. Michaels. Make me feel good. Please."

"I don't even have protection," he whispered on a snarl. He stroked me deeply twice more, then withdrew his fingers. He straightened, rubbing the wetness from my pussy onto my nipple before pulling the cup of my bra back over the hard, aching nub. His line of sight dropped to my very wet, swollen, spread open pussy as he put his hands on my knees.

I closed my legs, shielding myself from his eyes and whispered "I'm on the pill."

I leaned forward, running my hand over the bulge in the front of his pants, once, twice, then squeezing hard along his shaft. His cock jumped in my grip. "You wanted this too," I whispered, releasing him. He closed his eyes, at war with himself and it felt like time stood still again.

Neither of us moved until he grasped my hand, opening my palm and pressing it back onto his hard cock. When I looked up, he speared me with his gaze. His low voice sent a tremor through me: "Lean back and spread your legs for me."

I did as I was told.

He pushed his hands into the waistband of his track pants and boxers, sliding them down over his hips, his thick cock springing free.

He fisted his erection and locked eyes with me. My gaze tore away to watch him stroking himself almost brutally, from his balls to his glistening tip. The veins standing out on his forearms competed with the heavy veins running along his cock. I'd never seen anything so purely male in my life.

He stepped forward, squeezing his cock head, pushing out shiny, glistening drops. I was entranced, watching him slowly rub his precum onto my exposed clit, up and down... massaging it in. I moaned, reaching up to squeeze my breast and pinch my nipple, overwhelmed with how erotic it was.

"You like that," he asked, "my cum on your pussy?"

Between his words and watching him slide his erection up and down through my wet folds, I was mesmerized.

"Yes," I encouraged him on another breathy moan, reaching between us, wanting my hand on his shaft as he played with his cock at my soaked core. I ran my fingers through my wetness, wrapping them around him, relishing the powerful feeling of his exposed length sliding through my hand.

"Babe. You're so fucking wet... your pussy is dripping for me."

I squirmed, knowing he was correct, feeling myself getting even wetter from his dirty mouth and vulgar words.

"You're really going to leak for me when I fill you," he said, pausing with the head of his cock held still at my entrance. I had never had unprotected sex before. The thought of being filled with his cum had my nipples beading even tighter, my pulse racing, my chest flushed with excitement. "You want me to fill you?" he asked.

"Yes...I want that," I whispered, watching and feeling his cock jump against my folds.

"Look at me."

I did, watching his eyes flare as he slowly pushed into me, stretching my pussy. He was so much larger than my high school boyfriend. My mouth opened, soft breaths panting from my lips. He withdrew, causing me to look down. He lined up again, pushing in a little faster, still stretching me, forcing out a moan. I could watch his cock penetrate me like this for hours.

He withdrew completely again, softly probing my opening with the glistening head of his beautiful cock. I looked up at him. He paused, waiting, watching me.

"Please, Dr. Michaels..."

He pushed in faster this time, causing me to curl my abs, sitting up more and gripping his arms. He pulled out again.

"You're so fucking tight, baby."

"I need you back in me," left my lips on a whispered moan and he obliged, seating his cock to the root inside my pussy. He reached behind me, unhooking and discarding my bra before pushing me to my back.

With one hand between my breasts, he held me down as he drove into me, over and over. He fucked me with long, steady strokes, my naked body sprawled back lengthwise on the end of his desk.

My right leg was on his shoulder, his left arm wrapped around my thigh, pinning it to his chest while his thumb did wicked things to my clit.

When I was incoherently telling him I was going to cum, he halted and I whined with displeasure as he withdrew his cock. Pulling me into his arms, he maneuvering me behind his desk.

With my legs wrapped around his waist, Dr. Michaels lowered us into his chair. He lifted my ass, adjusting his hips until I felt his head lodge in my pussy, then he impaled me on his cock, forcing a gasp. God, he was so big.

"Ride me," he instructed, wrapping his arms tightly around me, leaning down to suck my nipple into his mouth.

I rode his cock, grinding against him, and setting a steady pace. Soon I was feeling the pressure build, feeling and hearing my wetness build. The more it built up, the faster I had to move, the deeper I needed him. The old wooden chair groaned in protest as I bucked on him, his hips rising up to meet me, thrust for thrust.

"I'm so close," I whispered, my mouth to his ear, my arm wrapped around his head.

"No."

He was immediately on his feet and I lost his cock again. My body was unsteady, my head dizzy from how fast he moved me. I found myself again on my back, this time on the middle of his desk. His hands pulled my knees apart as he stood over me, his cock rubbing back and forth against my pussy. He gripped himself, slapping his cock hard against my sensitive clit several times, my hips involuntarily thrusting, the sloppy wet sounds filling the air.

The overhead vent kicked on, making me very aware that even my thighs were wet. Embarrassed, my eyes went south then up to his face. As if he could read my thoughts, he was staring at my pussy, dragging his cock through the wetness trickling out of me.

"You have my cock drenched," he proclaimed, continuing to slide it through my slippery folds. Before I could close my legs in mortification, he braced a hand under each leg, pushing my thighs back and apart, dropping his face between them and feasting on my pussy like a man starved.

He sucked my clit into his mouth, nibbling not altogether gently. His tongue probed with firm, swift strokes, his lips and mouth licking and sucking my throbbing flesh. I felt another rush of wetness flood my channel and then his tongue was there, lapping at my opening, teasing me. Finally, his tongue pushed inside me.

This was nothing like fooling around in a car with my old boyfriend. Dr. Michaels was devouring me, consuming me. My hand went to his hair, fisting his curls. My hips rose up, pushing my pussy into his face. I started thrusting faster, fucking his face, begging him to not stop, begging him for more.

He stood up, pushing my knees back even further, spreading me and opening me obscenely wide. "God, you're a naughty little slut. Look how wet this pussy is for me."

His words scored through me. "Yes," I breathed, not caring how exposed or soaked I was. "So wet. I need to cum."

He slapped my pussy sharply, five times on quick succession, making my cry out. "You need to learn your place and be taught to behave and respect me first, baby."

He dipped back down, licking me hard from hole to clit, sucking the engorged nub into his mouth and biting, making me whimper and squirm against his mouth.

l was flipped over, tits to the desktop, my legs slightly spread, ass and pussy on display. He growled out "Keep your hands on the desk," as his hand between my shoulder blades pushed me down.

The first slap on my ass cheek bit and stung, but it also felt so delicious, the sensations radiating to my pussy, my insides clenching. My ass tipped up with a mind of its own, and I spread my legs farther apart.

He rained down another, then another, and another until I was squirming and lost count. More of my wetness ran down my leg.

In between the spankings, his big hands stroked and soothed my stinging ass, his fingers slipping between my legs, always rubbing, touching me, telling me how wet and naughty I was.

"Tell me what you need," he demanded, running his nails over my pink ass.

Pushing into his hand, all I managed to muster was "Please!"

"Tell me!" His palm landed sharply on my cheek, his fingertips slapping against my wet center, my body bowing, craving his touch. "Tell me, baby" he repeated, running a finger slowly down my ass crack then slipping two inside my pussy, rhythmically plunging them in and out.

I pushed back against his fingers, forcing them deeper, circling my hips, mindlessly fucking his hand. "TELL ME," he demanded, then I abruptly lost his fingers.

"I need you!"

"What do you need? Where?"

"Your... cock. I need your cock in... in my pussy."

"Are you wet?"

"Yes!"

"Baby, you're not just wet, your cunt is fucking dripping. Let me hear you say it."

"My... my cunt is... dripping for you! Pleeease!"

Both his hands came down hard at once on my ass cheeks, his fingers immediately plunging deep and possessively into my pussy.