Chapter 41 PROFESSOR'S PET
I still remember how I felt when I decided I was going to fuck Professor Hale.
It was during his Wednesday afternoon lecture on history. He was pacing in front of the projector, every time he said the word “disruption” or “power” his eyes moved towards my row, towards me.
I sat in the front row. I was wearing a navy skirt that barely covers tops of my thighs when I sit, my white blouse wasn't buttoned one extra hole because I was running late and didn't bother you fit it.
I didn’t wear bra today, nipples felt already hard from the air-conditioning and the way he kept looking. I crossed my legs slowly, letting the hem ride up until I knew he could see the lace of my black panties if he bent his head just the right angle.
I thought he won't but he did. His sentence got caught up for half a heartbeat. Then he recovered,and turned back to the slide, but the damage was done. I had successfully distracted him.
I felt heat rise between my legs like someone had struck a match there. I kept at it, him stealing glances at my open thighs and me moving sexily in my seat opening my thighs wider.
By the time class ended I was soaked, my clot sensitive each time I shifted in the seat. Everyone filed out. I stayed seated.
He noticed immediately, closed his laptop with a soft click, leaned against the edge of his desk with arms crossed.
“Emily,” he said. Just my name, he knew my name. Nothing else. Like he already knew why I didn't move.
I stood up, arranged my skirt even though I wanted it to go higher. I walked to the front slowly, heels clicking on the concrete. And stopped maybe three feet away from him.
“I need to talk to you about my last paper,” I said.
He raised one dark brow. “The one you got a C on?”
“Yeah. That's the one.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he reached behind him, picked up the printed copy from his desk, flipped it open to the red ink written across the top page.
“You didn’t engage with the secondary sources. Your argument lacks rigor. It’s… surface-level.”
I stepped closer. Close enough that my knees almost brushed his.
“Maybe I was distracted,” I said softly.
His gaze settled on my mouth, then moved lower, lingering where my nipples showed against the thin cotton. When he looked up again his pupils were blown wide.
“You were distracted by what, exactly?”
I licked my bottom lip. “By wondering what you would do if I stayed after class one day and asked for extra credit.”
The tension between us got heated. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears, but I wasn't scared.
He didn’t move for what felt like forever. Then he reached out, and hooked one finger into the open V of my blouse, pulling me forward until our bodies were almost touching.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Emily.”
“I know.”
His thumb brushed the swell of my breast through the cotton. Just once, lightly. But it sent a jolt straight to my core.
“You understand what happens if someone walks in right now?”
I nodded. “Then we should lock the door.”
He exhaled through his nose, a rough sound. “You’re serious.”
“I’m dead serious. Professor”
Another heartbeat. Then he released me, walked to the door in three long strides, and turned the lock. The click echoed.
When he came back he didn’t stop until he was standing right in front of me again. Looking taller abd broader than I remembered. He smelled even better up close.
“On your knees,” he commanded. Voice quiet.
I sank down slowly, like a puppet, keeping my eyes on his the whole time. The floor was cold against my bare knees. But I didn’t care.
He looked at me, not smiling, breathing a little uneven already.
“Unbutton your blouse the rest of the way.”
My fingers shook as I worked the buttons. When the shirt fell open he made a low sound in his throat.
“No bra. You came here planning this.”
“Maybe.”
“Hands behind your back.”
I obeyed. The position pushed my chest forward. My nipples were so hard they ached.
He reached down, pinched one nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Not gently. I gasped.
“Quiet,” he murmured. “Unless you want the whole hallway to hear what a needy little whore you are.”
He rolled the nipple, pulled gently, then switched to the other one. I bit my lip so hard to stop myself from moaning.
“Good girl,” he said. The praise hit me like a drug. “Now open my belt.”
I bent forward, using my teeth to catch the leather, pulling it through the loop. My mouth was watering. I could already see the thick outline of his cock against his trousers.
“Use your mouth for the zipper.”
I did so xarefully. The metal teeth parted with tiny clicks. When his cock sprang free, it was fucking thick, flushed dark at the head, just like I imagined already shiny at the tip. I moaned before I could stop myself.
“Look at you,” he said, voice rough. “Already drooling for professor cock.”
I nodded, desperate.
“Beg me.”
“Please,” I whispered. “Please let me suck you. I’ve thought about it every class. Every time you lecture I imagine being under your desk with your dick in my mouth.”
He wrapped a hand around the base, angled himself toward my lips.
“Then take it.”
I opened my mouth wide. He fed it to me slowly at first, letting me adjust to the size. It tasted a bit like salt, skin, a faint trace of soap. I sanked my cheeks, curling my tongue around the head, and sank deeper.
“Fuck,” he hissed. His hand slid into my hair, not forcefully, just holding and guiding.
I bobbed, taking more inch each time, until my nose brushed his neatly trimmed hair and my throat fluttered around him. Tears pricked my eyes. But I didn’t stop.
“That’s it. Choke on it like the slutty little student you are.”
The words made me tightenaround nothing. I whimpered around his length.
He pulled out suddenly, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his tip. “Stand up. Bend over the desk.”
I struggled to my feet, my palms holding the wood for support. He kicked my ankles wider apart, and raised my skirt up to my waist.
“Look at this,” he muttered, enjoying the view, he traced the soaked lace between my legs. “You’re dripping through your panties.”
He used two fingers to pull the fabric aside. I felt cool air against my pussy lips. I shivered.
He dragged the head of his cock through my wetness, teasing my entrance, bumping my clit on every pass.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Your cock,” I panted. “Inside me. Please, Professor, fuck me.”
“Hard?”
“Yes.”
“Deep?”
“Yes.”
“Like I own this pussy?”
“God…hell yes.”
He didn’t make me wait any longer. One deep and hard thrust, and he was buried to the base. I cried out, fingers scraping the desk. He was so thick it burned in the best way, stretching me open, filling every inch.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled. “Gripping me like you never want me to leave.”
He didn’t give me time to adjust to his thickness. He just started fucking me, so hard, fast, and deep. The desk shifted forward with every slam of his hips. Papers falling to the floor. I didn’t care.
“Quiet,” he warned again, even as he drove deeper. “Or I’ll pull out and make you finish yourself while I watch.”
I closed my mouth shut, muffling moans, biting the inside of my cheek to stay silent. My whole body reacted to each thrust. The angle was perfect, he was hitting the right spot, his cock dragging over that spot inside that made me roll my eyes in my socket.
He found my clit with rough fingertips, rubbing in fast circles.
“Come on my cock,” he ordered. “Come like the desperate little whore who seduced her professor for a better grade.”
The words, the way he felt between my pussy, the way he pounded me, his balls hitting my clit. The sensation was too much.
I started cumming, my legs shaking, arching my back, and pushing backwards closer to him, a choked sob ripping out of me as my walls pulsed around him. Wetness rolled down my thighs. I felt him swell inside me, thrusts becoming wild filled with the need to cum.
“Where do you want it?” he growled.
“Inside,” I begged. “Please…fill me up with your cum.”
He slammed in one last time, burying his cock deep, and came groaning, pulse after pulse, until it leaked out around his cock and dripped down my leg.
For a long moment we just breathed. His forehead rested between my shoulder and neck. His hands still held my hips like he was afraid I’d disappear.
Then he pulled out slowly. I whimpered at the loss. He turned me around, kissed me slowly this time, deep, tasting himself on my tongue.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were softer, but still filled with hunger.
“That was for the C+ I’m changing it to,” he said, voice low. “Come back tomorrow after office hours. We’ll negotiate the rest of the way to an A.”
I smiled, my legs were still shaky, and my thighs still trembling.
“I'm looking forward to it, Professor.”
He arranged his outfit, tucking his shirt properly. Then smoothed my skirt down like a gentleman, then handed me my bag.
“Dismissed,” he said. With a bad body smirk. “For now.”
I walked out on wobbly legs, his cum still warm inside me, already counting the hours until tomorrow.