Studying Biology with Sujata Miss

I was a bold guy in my twenties. I ran after girls like how some people run after money. Greedily and without shame. But it was the 80s, when most of the girls in Nehru College ran away any attempt at socializing with guys in the class, let alone going out with them. Everyone dressed conservatively, as if showing some skin were a sin, and the few girls who wore slightly revealing sarees were instructed to wear salwars or long-sleeve sarees that covered the back and belly as much as possible.

So it was strange when Sujata Miss walked into our class in the third year of B.Sc., to teach Biology, wearing semi-transparent half-sarees and sleeveless blouses. Though the saree fully draped over her midriff, we got a full view of her curvaceous stomach and the belly button on that dusky navel. The blouse covered her back like a statement, but she never wore a bra underneath. Some of the first benchers said they saw the areolae and the sleeping nipple when she leaned on the desk to read. We didn't doubt that for a moment as everyone could see her ripe 34-D breasts from the side, straining against the fabric of the blouse, as she walked around the classroom, reading and clearing doubts.

I am an average student at best. At my worst, I had failed two years before entering the college and once in the first year of B.Sc. All my free time went in playing football at the local club or hitting the gym and lifting weights. So it was a shock, even to myself, that I'd overnight turned into a passionate student of Biology from the day Sujata Miss started teaching our class.

"Kamal, I like your drawing of the breast," she said one day, leaning to examine my detailed drawing of the female part, the real thing just centimetres away from my face.

"Thank you, miss." I rushed a peek at that deep cleavage, her breasts heaving inside the tight, paper-thin green blouse she'd worn that day. I openly stared without shame while she marked the parts of the breast with my pencil.

"What is this part?" she asked gently, her lips almost nibbling my ear.

I didn't respond to the question. The blouse only covered half of those heavenly mangoes, and at the edge of the front flap I thought I'd seen the beginning of the areolae. Involuntarily, my cock was erect in its full glory, jutting out a mountain inside the trousers.

"I asked what is this part?" she prodded with the eraser of the pencil at the part that I'd shaded really well.

"The nipple, miss."

"Tell me what you know about the nipple, Kamal."

"Miss, the nipple is a raised region of tissue on the surface of the breast from which milk leaves the breast through lactiferous ducts to feed anyone who suckles at it."

"Why isn't it raised in your diagram? I admire your artwork, but you have to show the stiffened form. Not a bland dark circle."

I don't know what possessed me at that moment to make me blurt out, "Miss, I have not seen a real nipple, and the textbook diagrams are exactly the way I've drawn it."

"Is that so?" She flipped some pages. "I see. Okay, so the nipple can become erect, like the male penis, and eject fluid produced in the mammary glands during lactation."

"Does it need to be stimulated, miss?"

"What do you mean, Kamal?"

"Do the female breasts need to be stimulated like the male penis to produce milk?"

"It can be, Kamal. But it was discharge milk passively as well, unlike the male penis."

I hung my head. "But miss..."

"Yes, Kamal?"

"It says here that the breasts can be stimulated for sexual arousal, which is another common trait it has with the penis."

"That's right. The breast can be squeezed, pressed, stimulated with the lips and tongue, pinched, and even gently bit to pleasure the female. The nipple gets hard during arousal, returning to normal only after a session of passion or loss of interest."

"Thank you for explaining, miss. I've never seen a nipple or the breasts getting pleasured. Please forgive my ignorance."

"That's fine, Kamal. If you have any doubts, come to my office after your classes. I can stay back an hour or more to clear up any questions you have in Biology."

"Okay miss. I will come."

❀

Now, up until this point in my life, I'd never kissed a girl, let alone made love to her. Even in my fantasies, when one hand leisurely turning page after page of a Stardust magazine and the other furiously pulling on the head of my cock, I watched Amitabh Bachchan making love to Zeenat Aman, or Sanjay Dutt sucking Rekha's breasts. But, Sujata Miss was neither as slender and tall like Zeenat nor fit as Rekha. She was a good five inches shorter than me, at least, and had ample curves at the waist. If the opportunity presented itself, where would I start and what would I start with? These questions droned on and on, giving me sleepless nights in my sweltering hostel room.

Sujata Miss seemed to make passes at me when we crossed each other at the hallways and corridors. I was standing with a group of friends outside the classroom, cat calling some girls as they left for lunch, when Sujata Miss stood at the door of the opposite class. She winked at me, holding a white chalk between the index and middle finger like a cigarette. I thought it was a mirage of some sort, a figment of my horny brain creating desperate images of someone I wanted to have sex with, but it was all there -- happening in real time, with a real voluptuous teacher, a dusky beauty who was reaching her mid-thirties, biting her lips at me. I looked away, afraid my friends would tease my sudden erection, but when I turned back, she swept a tongue across her lips and made a shamelessly kissing gesture at me. How could I let her know that I didn't know what she wanted, and even if I did, I didn't know how to get the damn thing done.

❀

It was Sujata Miss who made the first move. Being one of the TAs, I stayed back to erase the blackboard, clean the dusters, rearrange all the chairs and desks before I left the class. She came in after all the students had left, clutching the fat Biology textbook, and sat on the teacher's chair in front of the classroom.

"Good evening, miss." I greeted as I cleared the blackboard with the wet duster.

"Good evening, Kamal." She was wearing a thin pink saree that seemed to slip off the shoulders if she walked too fast. The blouse was even thinner, showing off her large assets and cleavage even in that dim, sunless classroom. When she sat down, her breasts rested on the table, the deep valley heaving up and down as she breathed.

"Are you in the college football team, Kamal?" She asked suddenly as I picked my bags to leave. How did she know I played football?

"No miss. They don't allow anyone over 21 to play in the team. I am 24, turning 25 next month."

"Wow. That's why you are so mature."

"What do you mean miss?"

"You know how to make the best use of college -- in studies and with other things. Most of the boys here don't even know how to kiss a girl, I reckon. But you seem to be a guy who has some experience in that department. Am I right?"

"Well miss, not exactly. I don't have a girlfriend. Nor have I kissed a girl in my life." Sweat poured from my brow as the words escaped my mouth.

"Come here."

I climbed the two steps to the podium where she sat. "Come closer," Sujata Miss insisted in a low voice. I stepped closer. Not more than three feet lay between us. There was a glint in her brown eyes that probed from head to toe as she tapped a Reynolds pen on the textbook. "Come more close, Kamal. I won't eat you. Teachers are your friends, not your enemies."

One step. Then another. And another. From I stood now I could see the top of her breasts spilling out of the blouse, drops of sweat trickling from the neck down into that yawning cleavage. Two dark circles outlined the middle of that braless blouse. Without a prompt, my cock sat bolt upright, straining beneath on the cotton trousers.

Tucking a wisp of hair behind the ear, Sujata Miss studied me. She stared at my trousers, biting her lips like she had before, and those dark brown eyes fixated on my gym body. My cock forced harder against the fabric and I felt a drop of pre-cum staining the clean beige pants. Face down, I covered the post with both my hands in shame.

"What is this, Kamal? Why are you covering your manhood? You should be more comfortable with your body. After all, you are a Biology student." She yanked me forward by the belt. Her breasts jiggled in their modest confines of the blouse. A palm grazed the zipper where the erection was at full bloom. "The male penis seems to be fully aroused. Or is it? We can test."

She turned the chair to face me. The top view of her cleavage was the most carnally sexual thing I'd ever witnessed. My cock strained harder on her palm. "Ooh, so you can get more aroused. Here, feel this." Sujata Miss took my right hand and placed it on one breast. "What are you waiting for, Kamal? Learn your anatomy." She gently took my hand and rubbed it over the blouse. Although it was on top of the clothing, it was the softest skin I'd touched.

"Now use the other hand, too. Do whatever you want to understand the part."

I didn't need another invitation. I kneeled on the profusely dusty floor. Her nipples were starting to bud underneath that flimsy blouse. I couldn't stop myself from extending both hands and squeezing those two melons together. Sujata Miss moaned. "Again, Kamal. Again!"

Leaning forward, I pinched both the nipples. "Aagh!" They were not fully ripe yet, so I cupped them upwards and pinched them again. By this time, the oversensitive nipples had turned hard as cherries. Without a second thought, I sucked them through the blouse. It tasted salty and fleshy. Sujata Miss pressed into me, pulling me by the neck into her bosom. Massaging her underboob, I sucked the nipple again, this time adding a wet lick on the excited areola. She pulled away for a second and, leaning into me again, she shoved the other breast on my face. When I lightly slapped the other breast, she cooed and bit my earlobe.

Quickly, I adjusted my position and sat on the floor. Groping upwards, I pulled Sujata Miss's nipples and she stumbled forward. But before she fully collapsed into me, I held her by the breasts and deftly unhooked the blouse. One. Two. Three. The breasts spilled out. They were the most beautiful two things I'd ever seen in my life. The oblong spheres hung loose in the air, slapping against each other, nipples pointing down to the ground. "Kamal, that was..."

Before she could finish, I took both breasts in my hands and began squeezing them. They were supple and tender to touch, and with each squeeze Sujata Miss moaned louder and louder.

"Suckle them, Kamal, please. Don't wait. Drink my milk," she begged.

I obliged. Like a wild, hungry animal I began to suck on the nipple. "Gently, Kamal. Gently." Sujata Miss pulled on the other breast with one hand and slipped the other under her saree.

"I like how you taste, Miss," I said as I changed from the puffy nipple I'd been working on for over a minute to the other one. She bit her lips and moaned in reply. As I greedily licked and sucked, a stream of something entered my mouth. Though it tasted like sweat and bland milk, to me it was no less than pure honey.

Sujata Miss rocked on the chair, grinding the seat as she furiously rubbed her cunt. Her saree had fallen off, soaking up dirt and chalk powder from the floor. She got lost in a trance of her own making. With every suckle and kiss on her nipples, she said my name louder and louder, till it no longer was a whisper but a drawn out groan starting at "Kaaaa" and ending with "Maaaaaaal!"

And just like that she pushed me off her and I landed on my back as I fell off the podium. She lay slumped on the chair, half-naked, the petticoat wet in the middle by a sheet of cum. Sujata Miss slipped her hand out from under the petticoat and beckoned me with those cum soaked fingers. I crawled to her.

The air around her was littered by her dirty womanly aroma. I wanted to lick every breath of it like a stupid cub. She brought me up by my neck and stuffed four fingers into my mouth. I choked, then chewed. It tasted like fishy nectar. My hands naturally groped to her breasts, but she tapped them away. "Not now Kamal."

Sujata Miss pulled the blouse flaps and hooked them together like before. This only made them more sexy. "Tomorrow, Kamal. Tomorrow, I'll teach you about the male penis. Are you willing to learn?" she asked as she gathered her dirty saree off the floor.

"Yes miss," I replied.

"Now go home before the chowkidhar comes to lock the rooms."

"Okay miss."

"You are a good student, Kamal." She yanked me by the shirt and kissed me hard on the lips. Cum, spit, and sweat poured into me and for a moment I was lost in her ecstasy.

Before I could kiss her back, she pushed me off. "Tomorrow," she winked.

I picked up my bag and stumbled out of the classroom, heart pounding and still erect as hell.