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Section 1
God, I’ve been dreading this meeting all week. Whatever. I guess I have no choice. I really hope you’re not disappointed with me. The door’s open a little…should I just go in? “Professor?” “Come in!” “Hi professor.” “Hey, there you are. Sit, sit. Oh, close the door, would you? Shit weather today, huh?” I glance at the window behind your desk and notice the gray sky and heavy wind. Matches my mood. “Guess so, yeah.” “You alright?” “Yeah. To be honest, I’ve been kind of dreading this meeting. ” “I get it. But we gotta have the tough conversations. They’re good for us. ” You’ve always been my favorite professor in the poli-sci department. Not just because you’re young and, you know, attractive. But there’s something about you I can’t quite get a hold of. It’s like you’re always at arms-length, keeping everyone you meet at a distance. I wish I knew more about you, about your life outside of school... There was a moment, once, after that symposium on US-Russian relations last year. You were walking to your car and I was heading back to my dorm. You said something about dying for piroshkis and I told you I knew of a place. We kept talking until we reached your car. Half an hour later we were still standing there and you were laughing so hard you could hardly breathe. I can’t remember what we were laughing about, but there was something between us then. I feel it sometimes during class when you catch my gaze across the room... “So...tell me what’s going on. What happened to your grades? ” “Right. Well, I guess...you know I love your classes. And political science is, like, my passion, you know? I’m so into it, it’s all I think about sometimes and I just really want to do a good job in school so that when I’m done I can get a good job and -” You stop me with a look. You can sense bullshit a mile away. That’s one of the things I really like about you. “Alright, so, I got a job at that bar on campus, Porter’s Pub. And it’s just really messing up my schedule. My research fellowship ended last semester and I really need the money.” You nod along and I think you’re sympathetic. I don’t know...you’re so hard to read. “To be honest, I was pretty surprised when I noticed your grades slipping. You know in the class you took with me last semester, the litigation and public policy survey...you were definitely one of my top students.” “Yeah, yeah, I know.” “And I’m sure you’ve realized it’s hard to get good grades when you miss so much of the class” That little smile you’re giving me is so… I don’t know. I love it. I never see girls my age looking at me like that. Like they have some knowledge about the world that I don’t know. I mean, not that you’re that much older. I don’t know for sure. Maybe you’re in your late 30’s? Early 40’s? “So, yeah, I’m really sorry for all the absences.” “Mm, it’s not really me you need to say sorry to. It’s yourself, mostly. ” “Oh, yeah...right.” “I really am sorry to hear you’re having trouble managing your schedule. I get it, really. I mean, hell, I’m still paying for my student loans today.” “Well, that’s reassuring.” “But hey, what’s the point of getting yourself in debt for an education you’re not gonna make the most of?” “Definitely true.” “Well, in any case, I wish you would’ve come to me a little sooner. There’s always jobs available in the department--paid internships, that kind of thing. Let me check around for you. But... ” My heart skips a beat. Getting attention from you always makes me feel special in some weird way. “Make sure your grades don’t slip anymore. Okay?” You press your lips together and nod, satisfied with our agreement. Talking with you just feels like talking with a friend…I wonder if…no, there’s no way. I’m sure there’s, like, some policy against going out with students - even though we’re both of age...you would never. “So, uh, guess I’ll get going, then. Thanks a lot.” “Wait a second. There is something else we need to discuss...the other day, after class when you wanted to schedule this meeting - I couldn’t help but notice you had an erection.” Fuck. Shit. What? Oh my god. Oh my god. Did I? Oh, fuck. “I, Professor...I would never...I -” “Well, now you’re just insulting my intelligence. Besides, it was kind of hard to miss. ” I shut my mouth and just stop talking. My heart is fucking racing right now. And...awesome, I’m getting turned on again. I slide my hand over my crotch as my dick starts to press against my pants. “Relax, okay?” You get up from your chair and move to sit on the edge of the desk in front of me. I can hear my heartbeat. I have never felt more humiliated...and weirdly aroused. “Don’t worry. It’s a really common fantasy, especially for guys. The whole ‘hot for teacher’ thing. Can I ask you something?” I nod, slowly. Fuck, what is going on? “Have you ever jerked off…thinking about me?” “I, um...well...” “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes'...” Your hand lays across my thigh and you slowly drag it upwards. Oh, fuck. You trail your hand to the side and lay it over my hand that’s covering my hard cock. You squeeze once and pull away. My cock twitches, immediately missing your touch. “I mean, I’ve thought about you too...in the shower...in my bed…but I can’t really have anyone on campus know that. ” Oh my god, did you just say... ““Have you thought of me...doing this…” You reach under your skirt and pull down your underwear. You drop the panties into my lap and I instinctively cover them with my hands. Holy shit. You roll up the black fabric of your skirt and I take in the sight of your thighs. Fuck, I want to touch them...is this really fucking happening right now? The truth is that I’ve come so many times thinking about how you’d look under your clothes. I can’t believe I’m seeing it for real now... Inch by inch, the fabric goes up until it reaches your hips. You have the sexiest smirk on your face as you watch me unravel at the sight of you. My cock is screaming for attention now…I decide to be bold and slowly unbuckle my pants. You spread your legs a little and grab my free hand...you bring it between your thighs and show me how wet you are. “Fuck...” You drag my fingers along your pussy, helping me slide between your lips... You step closer to my chair and place one foot on its armrest. Your legs are spread in front of me now...you’re practically begging me to keep going... “Oh, yeah...” You move my fingers back and forth against your clit. I just sit here, letting you use me. I have a feeling that’s what you want right now. It’s taking everything in me not to push you onto the desk and fuck you...but I like this slow game. You tip your head back and groan up at the ceiling as you grind against my palm. I feel like a personal sex toy for you right now...and it’s such a turn-on. “Yes…fuck.” My fingers play with your clit as my other hand strokes my cock harder. Oh, fuck...this is hotter than anything I’ve ever done before. I’m throbbing...I’m going to explode at some point...I love being like this, your plaything. I never want it to end. “You like being a good boy for me?” “Yes. Oh my god, yes.” Suddenly you remove my hand from your pussy. You slide my jeans down to my knees. My heart skips a bit as you climb onto my lap, straddling my legs, rubbing your wet pussy against the bare skin of my thigh... Fuck…holy fuck. Your wet folds slide against me and you pleasure yourself on my thigh. I have never, ever, been this turned on before in my life... Your long nails trail down my back, digging into the fabric of my t-shirt. You wrap your hand around my cock... “Oh, fuck...” You’re still rubbing your wet pussy against my thigh, relentlessly, over and over again. You rub my cock in time to your movements. Fuck, fuck... I passion into your hand, my body spasming against the chair. Suddenly, you’re climbing off of me. You sit down on top of your desk and lift up your legs, planting one on each of the armrests of my chair. I’ve got a perfect view of your legs spread wide open. Just for me. Shit... I lean forward and dive in, desperate to taste you. You press two fingers against your clit and work it hard, fast. Your other hand grips my hair and pulls slightly, moving me where you want me... “Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, I’m gonna passion…oh fuck, oh fuck!” Your thighs tremble as you press yourself into me. You press your forehead against mine. And then you pull away, climbing off of me. You pull down your skirt and grab a tissue off your desk. And just like that, it’s over. Like it never happened at all. You lean against the desk again, looking victorious. You rearrange a few fallen strands of hair from your face and grin down at me. “So...” “Right, um...” I fumble with my jeans, clumsily getting dressed again. My whole body is still reeling. “So, um, thanks again for –” I’m silenced by a kiss. “I’ll see you in class, then. And, maybe, if you’d like to have another meeting soon… ” “Definitely! Definitely, yeah, yeah. I’ll, um, I’ll email you. “Thanks, Professor.” You grin at me from across the desk and wave me out the door. I am never missing class again.