His name was Michael Hancock, but they called him Professor Cock.
More than a juvenile nickname, the moniker was said to have some basis in fact. At least that was how the rumor went: that the young English professor was hung like a stallion with endurance to match, and had proven as much to more than one female student over the past three years that he'd taught at the small state college.
Lisa knew the moment she saw Dr. Hancock that he was the right man for her. It didn't matter that she was only 19 years old and he was her teacher (and at least 30) – she knew that she could make him fall in love with her if she could only get his attention.
Of course she'd heard the rumors and knew about his nickname, but she didn't need to think about his penis to be titillated (in fact, it was kind of a turnoff for her) – she only needed his soft blue eyes.
She sat in the front row every class period, but the lecture hall for Dr. Hancock's English 302 class was so big she couldn't be sure that he even noticed her.
She asked questions as often as she could, but she always felt a little silly, like she was trying to find an excuse to hear herself talk.
Dr. Hancock would look at her with his dreamy blue eyes and listen carefully, responding in a thoughtful, careful manner. At times like that it felt like the two of them were alone together, lost in intimate conversation.
Lisa got good grades in the class. Of course she did – she'd always been a very good student. She spent plenty of time on each essay, editing her work several times before turning it in. More than anything, she wanted Dr. Hancock to notice her for being so diligent.
But she also wanted him to notice her as a woman: she started wearing low-cut tops to class, showing off her pert breasts and creamy smooth skin. She twirled her wavy blonde hair and laughed out loud at every tiny wisecrack he made during lecture, no matter how corny the joke was.
She wore short skirts, and crossed and uncrossed her legs in front of him, hoping he might sneak a peek. Nothing. Despite the rumors, Dr. Hancock seemed to be the consummate professional. There was not a note of flirtatiousness about him.
Maybe she was too good at being a good student. Though he wrote generic encouraging comments like "nice point" or "good work!" on her paper, he never wrote anything personal. She longed for him to address her directly, to tell her that her writing was brilliant, to tell her she was beautiful – even sexy. She even fantasized about him reprimanding her for dressing too provocatively in his class.
Finally, a few weeks into the semester, she got up the courage to take things a step further. Dressed in a skirt and high heels, she purposely dropped a pencil in front of the podium as Dr. Hancock was packing his things after class. She bent down slowly, making sure that he could take a long look if he wanted to. She knew she was attractive. She got plenty of attention from men her own age. The problem was, she wasn't interested in them. She was only interested in Dr. Hancock.
She glanced behind herself as she stood back up.
To her utter disappointment, Dr. Hancock was absorbed in conversation with another student.
Lisa mustered up her courage, waited until he was finished with the other student, and then walked up to him.
"Dr. Hancock?" she said.
"Yes?"
"Can I talk to you for a second?"
He continued packing his things, barely glancing at her. Frustrated, she placed her hand gently on his arm. He paused in the middle of putting a book in his bag and looked up at her. She thrust her chest forward as subtly as she could.
"Sure, but could it wait until my office hours? I've got another class to teach in five minutes."
"When are they?"
"Tomorrow or Thursday after class: 10 to 11," he said, looking back down and snapping his bag shut, "just like it says in the syllabus."
He flashed her a quick smile. Lisa thought his eyes lingered just slightly longer than necessary on her cleavage, but she couldn't be sure.
He started to walk away, but then turned quickly.
"One more thing," he said, "they're doing some work in my regular office, so I'm holding office hours in the Natural Sciences Building instead. Room 1324. It's a bit out-of-the-way, but you can ask for directions from one of the secretaries if you need to."
Lisa nodded and scrambled to write down the room number, her knees weak as he walked out the door.
She went straight home and spent the rest of the day deciding what to wear. What was Dr. Hancock's type? Innocent? Conservative? Sexy? Sophisticated? Slutty, even?
She had no idea. She tried on outfit after outfit, and found good reasons for discarding each one. Finally she decided to make her decision the next morning, on at spur of the moment.
That night she thought about Dr. Hancock as she lay in bed. She knew he was passionate about literature and writing; she hoped he could be passionate about her as well. She reached between her legs and played with herself as she pictured him grabbing her, kissing her and finally taking her hard. Fucking her with his big prick. Saying all kinds of nasty words and making her say them too. This last part of her fantasy shocked her a little bit, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. She whispered his name as she came: "Michael!"
She fell into a deep and restful sleep. So restful, in fact, that she didn't wake up in time for English class. She must have forgotten to set her alarm!
Instead of carefully considering her outfit, she jumped in the shower and then threw on the first clothes she could find. As she walked out the door, she realized that she had (perhaps unconsciously?) chosen one of the boldest outfits she owned: a tight white button-down blouse with a black push-up bra clearly visible underneath, a short black skirt, and tall black boots. She looked a bit trashy, perhaps, but still very sexy.
At the bus stop, she briefly considered going back home to change. She realized, however, that she would miss Dr. Hancock's office hour entirely if she didn't leave right away. That was out of the question! Besides, missing class would give her something to talk to him about.
When she arrived at campus, she ducked into the restroom to check her make-up. She still looked a little disheveled, but otherwise very pretty. She unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse to show a little cleavage, fiddled with her hair for a few moments, trying to decide if she needed any makeup. She dithered for a moment, but then decided she had to go all out: after all, she was already wearing a sexy outfit. Why not sexy makeup to match?
She applied bright red lipstick and smoky eye shadow before leaving the bathroom and heading down the hall to the room that Dr. Hancock had told her, which was in a remote, almost deserted section of the large, anonymous Natural Sciences Building. She hoped her look was more sexy than slutty.
"Come in," he called after she knocked.
He was sitting behind his desk, which was completely bare except for a stack of papers. In fact, the office seemed barely in use.
"How can I help you?" he asked, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk.
"I wasn't in class today," said Lisa, sitting up straight on the edge of the chair so that her breasts were at their most prominent, "and I was wondering if you could tell me if I missed anything."
Dr. Hancock's face fell.
"Do realize what that question implies?"
Lisa blushed.
"The fact that you have to ask if you missed 'anything' implies that you think it likely that 'nothing' was taught in class today. Do you find my class a waste of time?"
"No Dr. Hancock, I love your class!" protested Lisa, distraught. What a terrible misunderstanding!
"Then why did you miss my class this morning?"
"I overslept! It won't happen again, I promise."
"It's up to you," Hancock shrugged, "it's your grade. My attendance policies are clearly outlined in the syllabus. I couldn't care less."
This frustrated Lisa. The last thing she wanted from Dr. Hancock was indifference!
"Can I help you with anything else?"
"Yes," she said, "the reason I came to see you was..."
She paused, searching for a plausible reason.
"Yes?"
"My latest essay. I didn't understand your comments."
"Do you have it with you? We can look at it together."
"Of course," said Lisa, rummaging through her bag, "it's right here somewhere."
"Take your time," said Dr. Hancock, leaning back in his chair while she searched.
With horror, Lisa realized she couldn't find the paper.
"I – I must have forgotten it."
"Forgotten it? Like you forgot to come to class this morning?"
Lisa blushed again.
"Lisa," said Dr. Hancock.
"You know my name?" She was startled.
"Are you surprised?" he asked, grinning.
"No, I guess not," she said, "it's just that there are so many students in the class."
"True," he said, "but only one of them who tries so desperately to get my attention.
"What? I –"
"Don't play dumb with me Lisa. Look at what you're wearing. Tell me you're not trying to get me to notice you."
She looked down in embarrassment.
"And the stunt you pulled with the pencil. Do you think I was born yesterday?"
"No," said Lisa, "I mean, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Lisa," said Dr. Hancock, pushing his chair back and standing up, "if you're going to act like a slut, you're going to be treated like one."
He came around the desk, then walked behind her and locked the heavy office door with the key that was already in place.
Lisa gulped.
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
Lisa was silent. Her cheeks burned. Never in her entire life had she been so embarrassed.
"I think it's inappropriate for you to use words like that," she murmured.
"Like what?" asked Dr. Hancock, standing over her, finally giving her the attention she'd been craving.
"You know," said Lisa.
"No," said Dr. Hancock, "I don't know," he loosened his tie.
"Slut," she murmured, almost inaudibly.
"Stand up, Lisa. I'm going to demonstrate why calling you a slut is perfectly appropriate."
A jolt of adrenalin coursed through her, but Lisa felt herself obeying him without question. She stood up, facing his desk. He was still standing behind her.
"Bend over and put your hands on the desk," he commanded.
"What?" she whispered. She was beginning to think at least some of the rumors might be true after all.
"I said bend over and put your hands on the desk, Lisa."
She bent forward, placing the palms of her hands on the heavy metal desk.
There was a tense moment of silence, as both of them waited in anticipation of what was to come next.
"So you weren't trying to get my attention by dressing provocatively, Lisa?"
"No sir," she said, her arms trembling.
"Let's inspect what you're wearing and see if that's plausible."
She felt his hands peel up her skirt, flipping it up onto her back and exposing her ass, which was covered only by the flimsiest white lace thong.
"Is this your idea of a modest outfit? One that wouldn't attract attention?" he asked, slipping a finger under the elastic waistband of the underwear, pulling it and then letting it snap back onto her skin.
She gasped in surprise.
"That hurt!" she said, "what are you doing?"
"I asked you a question young lady," said Dr. Hancock firmly, "is this your idea of a modest outfit? A short skirt, white lace panties that barely cover anything, and boots that belong on a prostitute?"
Lisa didn't say anything. She found herself breathing harder, in spite of herself. How could this embarrassing situation be turning her on so much?
"Well?"
"I'm sorry sir," she stuttered, still facing away from him, palms on the desk, with her ass exposed, "I got dressed in a hurry. I didn't really think about it."
"I don't believe you," said Dr. Hancock. She felt his fingers under the waistband of her thong once again.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to check on something," he said, sliding her panties down to her knees. She stood there helpless, completely exposed to him.
His fingers traced along her buttocks, then the inside of her thighs, slowly moving closer and closer to her clit. She was breathing even harder now, yet still trying desperately to conceal her arousal. How had she gotten herself into this?
His fingers brushed the outside of her pussy, probing its moist exterior.
"Just as I suspected," he said, "the little slut is wet."
"I'm not..." she stopped and gasped as his fingers penetrated her.
"Not what?"
"A slut," she mumbled, as he stroked her clit with his other hand while fingering her.
"Oh Lisa," he sighed, "I assure you that you are."
She tried to suppress a moan as he teased her clit and massaged the inside of her pussy with his fingers. She'd never been with a man this skillful before. He was driving her crazy! She was going to come soon, despite her humiliating and completely inappropriate position.
"Oh yes, Dr. Hancock," she moaned.
