Version 2.0
Originally submitted 13 August 2012
This is an edit, containing a few corrections, for my original manuscript. Thanks to my hot little British slut for a round of proofreading and editing. Fuck stories read so much better when written properly in the Queen's English, don't you agree?
I hope you enjoy.
Leopard
***
Version 2.1
Submitted for repost 02 January 2019
I've been away for awhile, and I've decided to repost this one. I hope you enjoy (again). As with all my stories, all characters are 18 years of age or older.
Leopard
******
It was 5:20pm and past the usual time I went home. With every passing minute, since the agreed meeting time, my frustration was increasing. Shit this is ridiculous, I thought to myself. I finally got up from my desk and started walking towards the door of my office. Just at the moment, I heard footsteps on the tiled hall floor approaching. Determined to make my point, I walked out the door of my office and started to close it.
"Here I am Professor!" her voice echoed through the hall of the newly built science building. I turned my gaze to her with a stern frown.
"You're late," I said showing my annoyance as she arrived at my door. "I agreed to see you at five o'clock, as a courtesy to you. The least you could do was to be on time."
"I'm very sorry Professor, I was studying at the library and lost track of time". Unlikely, I thought to myself. Perhaps she was in the library, but I'd bet serious money she wasn't studying. More likely flirting with some football player, if not getting fucked in some secluded place on the premises. Although I hadn't spoken my thought, she probably guessed most of it from the way I looked at her.
She was difficult not to notice. She had a body most girls on campus would have killed to have had. She looked good. She knew it and accentuated it. Today she was wearing a short light blue skirt and a low cut, translucent white blouse. It didn't take much effort to see the line of her bra under her top. Her breasts were shapely, C cups probably and she liked to show as much skin as she could get away with, and often even a little bit more. My eyes paused for a split second too long on her breasts, and she smiled coyly. No doubt she had become proficient at reading men's reactions to her body.
I quickly regained my composure. "Well, since you're here, come on in. Let's try to make this as brief as we can, shall we? I would like to go home this evening."
"Certainly Sir, I am very sorry to have inconvenienced you." I held the door open for her, letting her enter first. She brushed against me as she passed me. It gave me a small thrill but I didn't betray that reaction as I felt my heart beat a little faster. "Oops, sorry," she said, with the same coyness she had shown earlier.
I moved to my chair behind my desk while she sat, in a much less comfortable chair, in front of it. I secretly enjoyed this configuration when students came to talk to me. It gave an added boost to my authority. "What can I do for you Miss Jones?" I said, allowing a bit of annoyance to drip into my tone.
"Well Professor, as you know, I'm not doing very well in your class." An understatement, I thought to myself. This girl couldn't do addition, even with a calculator.
"I'm aware," I retorted.
"The thing is Sir, if I don't pass I won't be able to graduate." She paused, apparently waiting for me to extend some sympathy. I was unmoved and showed it, so she continued. "I have this great job lined up, but it's contingent on me graduating, so I really need to graduate." She paused again. This time I was momentarily unaware of the silence. I was staring at her. Her pretty face, gorgeous tits, and shapely legs which were crossed. I recovered, again a split second too late, as a brief smile crossed her face. A smile that inaudibly said, caught you staring at me again.
"Well, Miss Jones, you and I both know that you will not pass my class unless you score at least 95% on the final." I stopped myself from adding that we both knew there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
"I know," she said, as she looked down, obviously agreeing with my unspoken thought.
"Miss Jones, I can be sympathetic if the situation warrants it, but from my point of view you just aren't mentally present when you are in my class. I don't think I've ever seen you take notes, you look at me while I lecture, but what I'm trying to teach you just seems to go in one ear and out the other".
"Oh, you've noticed," she said, looking tentatively back towards me, although not meeting my gaze. I nodded.
"Is it just my class, or are you having problems in other classes, I'd like to try to understand what the problem is." She bit her lip, I couldn't tell if she was going to answer. "You don't have to tell me if you aren't comfortable doing so," I said, "But, as you can see I really don't have many options here as to what I can do without more information." She visibly took a breath; I saw her breasts heave and then I realized my cock was hard. Crap, I thought to myself, you need a bit of self control dude.
"Sir, I really would like to tell you, I'm just not sure how."
"Well, take your time," I said, my facial expression softening as my cock hardened. She seemed comforted by my more sympathetic demeanor, which I reserved for cute female students of whom I was fond.
"Well Professor...", a long uninterrupted pause, I urged her on with my attentiveness. "It's just your class. I know it looks like I'm a ditz or just plain stupid, but really I'm not that dense."
"I know you aren't stupid Miss Jones," I half-lied. "What is it?" I prodded gently.
"Well Sir ... it's you ... I mean ... not you, it's about you, but it's me, it's my problem." Growing genuinely interested, and also feeling a bit light headed, perhaps from her perfume which had become more apparent as we talked, I leaned forward and stared directly at her with my head on my hand. "This is stupid, I shouldn't have come," she said uncomfortably, as she fidgeted and looked around uneasily. I was surprised, I suspected she seldom felt flustered. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time Sir, I'm just gonna go." She started to get up.
"Miss Jones, we're not finished here, please sit down." Part of my reaction was due to genuine concern for her, but part (and admittedly the much bigger part) was due to the fact that I didn't want her to leave. I knew I had to avoid allowing myself to be sexually attracted to a student, but there were times I had permitted it, although nothing unethical had ever happened. But once I allowed the attraction, there was always the possibility. She sat back down. "Miss Jones, if there is a real problem here, I'm sure we can find a solution for you. But I'll need to know what the issue is."
Again, she looked down and then slowly started, "Sir I'm, ... ummm ... attracted to you." I was surprised. There had been times in the past where it was obvious female students had been attracted to me, but none had ever explicitly admitted it. I must have had a comical look on my face, but this was a first and I honestly was trying to think of a good way to respond. But fortunately I didn't have to, it seemed that now that she had made it over the initial hurdle, she was about to reveal all. "It's stupid I know," she continued, "but I sit in class staring at you and thinking of ... things ... and well, things ... happen and I start thinking more and it just builds and builds and there's no way I can pay attention to what you are teaching."
Fuck I'm good, I thought to myself, but kept my composure. "What kinds of 'things' do you think about, Miss Jones?" She blushed. I found myself switching from Professor mode to horny-guy-who-wants-to-get-laid mode. This isn't good, I thought to myself, but I was quickly approaching the point of no return; the point where my dick would win out over my logical, responsible, ethical side. "Miss Jones, I'd really like to know." I noticed my voice was slightly deeper, slightly slower. It was obvious my dick was nearly in control of my brain now.
She continued, obviously oblivious to my internal struggle that was playing out silently in front of her, "Umm ... sex things. Like I wonder what your, umm, ... penis looks like, and I, well, want to do things to it". That was all I needed to push me over the edge.
"And what 'things' happen when you think about this," I asked, my gaze fixed on her.
"Well ... I get wet," she said, a little less shyly, seeing my genuine interest displayed.
"You mean your pussy gets wet?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.
"Yes Sir, my pussy gets wet, God I'm so embarrassed!"
I then realized my office door was still open. Jesus Fucking Christ dude, if you're gonna do this, at least don't be totally fucking stupid, I thought to myself. I got up silently. "I'm sorry," she said, "please don't be mad." She got up from her chair, mistaking my move as an indication that the meeting was over.
"No, stay there," I said to her abruptly, "Just closing the door since our conversation should remain private". And I don't want someone to come by and hear it because my ass will be fired for sure, I thought to myself. As I returned to my desk, I stopped by the side of her chair. I placed a hand on her shoulder. And so it begins, I smiled to myself. "It's really okay Miss Jones". I felt her tremble at my touch, but I left my hand on her shoulder. And then I caught her. In my panic to close the door, I had forgotten about my hardon. My cock was easily visible, bulging in my pants.
"Omigod," she said softly, I'm sure she didn't realize the words actually were audible. She looked at my face, then back to my cock, then back to my face. "Sir, is ... that because of me?" she said softly.
"Well, yes it is Miss Jones," I confessed, feigning a bit of embarrassment. I knew but didn't care that my career was now seriously at risk. My cock assured me this hot piece of ass would be worth having to switch careers.
"Sir, would you please call me Stephanie?"
"Sure Stephanie," I smiled.
"Sir, I know this isn't right, but I have a confession," I noticed she was breathing a bit heavier.
"And what might that be Stephanie?"