Professor Lyons Needs Help

This is not something that actually happened to me, but everyday when I sit in class cocking my head to the side, biting my bottom lip and staring at my professor, this is the story I'm concocting in my head. This story has become very real to me. Real enough to make me break down and turn in my first literotica submission. This is not a wham, bam, thank you ma'am story, so settle in for the ride and enjoy.

Could I be your student? Maybe. You should hope so.

*

The air sliding up my scandalously short skirt was cold, and unfortunately, it was the only thing sliding up my skirt. This outfit—short, blue skirt paired with cute furry boots and a low cut turquoise top—was my last ditch effort to attract the attention of my best guy friend. Judging by his inattention to his best "bud," i.e. me, and what I could only assume was a riveting conversation with the ditzy bartender, it had not worked. Sure, the jock frat guys were trying to see down my shirt and the middle aged pool players were trying to look up my skirt on every shot. But, they weren't the ones I was interested in. Drowning my sorrows, I took another sip of my Amstel Light and contemplated my options for salvaging the night. There were really no suitable men in the bar, and I was way past due for a good fuck. As a 24 year old grad student in anthropology, it's hard to get out a lot and meet men who don't just want to talk about neo-functionalism vs. neo-evolutionism or something else that I find incredibly fascinating in class but not when I'm interested in getting laid. My "friend" was not anyone I would fall in love with but he had a great body and full lips that I liked to imagine on my neck. I thought if I could just get him to look at my ass for once he might be able to scratch my itch. No luck though.

I was just getting ready to give in and at least harmlessly flirt with the well-intentioned welder with a crooked grin when I let out a little "whoot." My crotch was vibrating. Once I remembered my phone was on vibrate, I giggled and quickly pulled it out hoping that it would save my night. It most certainly would.

"Dr. Lyons?" I said in place of hello.

"Hannah? I need you to put in some off hours right now, tonight." It was my advisor. A quirky, hilarious, strangely attractive while being terribly intimidating and of course brilliant political ecologist who was working on going in to the field with an NSF grant. I had been helping him for the past three weeks with preliminary data input for his upcoming trip to Guatemala. By helping him I mean mindlessly typing while stealing glances at his crotch as he paced in front of me. This was a nice surprise.

"I'm up at Jerry's playing some pool. What's up? Is everything alright?"

"Oh, you're busy. Hm." He sounded irritated, but I was quick to interrupt.

"Actually, the night's been pretty dull so far. Really, what's up?"

"It's our data. You know me. I'm computer illiterate, and I went to migrate the document in to the online database, and it disappeared. All of it. I don't know what I did. I don't know where it went. It's gone. I have to give my documentation to the board in less that 35 hours and all of it is gone. gone. un-fucking-believable." By the end of his tirade he was barely whispering. This was a man who I'd seen take command of 300 student lecture halls and make at least three undergraduate students cry. He must've been in serious trouble.

"Oh. Hank that's awful. Can I help?" As I said it, I knew he had to be at his house working and that his kids were with his ex-wife. "I can help. This night was going to blow anyways, and hell, you have to pay me for my research hours anyways, right?"

I heard him sigh.

"Thank you," he said in the nicest tone I'd ever heard from him. "I'm at my house. You'll want to take the C Line north till..."

As he returned to his normal authoritative self that made my little lace panties wet, I made affirmative noises while he ordered me to run by the department, pick up his favorite Chinese, and not to forget a pack of his smokes. I knew I could go home and change in to my typical grad student uniform of jeans and a t-shirt, striped socks and Birkenstock clogs, but with a wicked grin that he couldn't see, I decided to go straight from the bar in what I knew to be my sexiest outfit. It would show dedication for sure. As well as more of my bare shapely thighs than he'd ever seen before.

An hour later, the temperature had continued to drop and my nipples were so hard they hurt. I was incredibly excited and standing on his front stoop waiting for him to come to the door. He greeted me with his standard work outfit—brown carhart's, plaid button down, but instead of his merrell's he had only a cozy looking pair of smart wools on. His hair was in the usual ponytail but I could tell he was frazzled by the chestnut brown strands that had escaped and now surrounded his face. I resisted the urge to push them back out of his face and merely observed the look on his face. This was a man who had seen me more often than not with my hair in messy buns, glasses, and food stained clothes. As much as I'd considered trying to impress this earthy and still daunting man in the past, Monday thru Friday I was consumed by my efforts to be the top in my class (which I was in serious contention for with one other student) and get my thesis research funded. I am a ravenous little sex kitten, but grad school had forced me to make some unfortunate prioritizations. I knew I could be sexy when I wanted to be. At 5"1 and a serious runner, hiker, and Frisbee player, I had a cute, toned and curvy body. My round face was framed by long light brown hair with natural blonde streaks, all set off by my wide sea-green eyes. I wasn't a model, but I was cute and wholesome looking. I was especially a hit with older men due to my girl next door charm. It was enough to make most men take more than one look if I wanted them to. Tonight I wanted my professor to, and he definitely was.

I knew I was a vision standing there since his mouth didn't close and he stood stock still for a good 30 seconds. I felt and saw his eyes trace down my collarbone towards my erect nipples where they lingered and then continued down to my daring hemline and eventually what I knew to be one of my best features, my smooth exposed legs. I resisted the urge to spin in a cute little circle and give him the full view. Instead, I held up the food in my left hand and his paperwork in the right.

"I hope I got it all! I was trying to hurry but be thorough," I said with an innocent smile, ignoring how his eyes, while they had traveled north again, still seemed stuck on my breasts. "I'm freezing," like he didn't already know, "can I come in, or what?"

Without waiting for an answer I advanced towards him. He muttered something unintelligible and moved sideways to let me pass. I felt the heat of his body as I squeezed past him in the doorway. My pussy was positively aching for him. It was almost hard to breathe with all the heavy desire passing between us.

"Where should I put this stuff?" He still hadn't spoken a full word. The direct question seemed to snap him back in to focus. His eyes shifted back to my face.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Through here." He led me down a hallway to a nice large kitchen that looked slightly disused. I walked past him to the table and bent over just slightly to put the food on the table, showing him a glimpse of what I knew for sure to be my best asset—my round, taut ass.

"Why don't we eat first and you tell me what happened," I said and began pulling down plates from high shelves which I knew made my skirt ride a little higher. He cleared his throat behind me, and I turned around with plates in hand. I saw his eyes lingering on my skirt and smiled. He looked up right then and knew I'd busted him. I gave him a look that I knew to be my best combination of innocence and mischievousness. I expected him to look sheepish but instead he had one eyebrow raised sardonically, letting me know I wasn't fooling him with my innocent act.

"Hannah. I may be a dirty old man. But, what in the world has gotten in to you. I've never. You just don't look like this, well, ever." His voice wasn't teasing like his words seemed to be. Instead he sounded dry and bored. I refused to let my confidence falter.

"Well, first of all, you're only 43 so definitely not old. And, second of all, you've never played pool with me. I'm quite the shark. Not just because of my skill level, but I have offensive strategy."

"I assume you mean the skirt. It's very, uh, effective, I presume?" He raised an eyebrow and reached for the plates.

"Wouldn't you say so?" I smiled openly up in to his eyes. He finally laughed, a small laugh, and nodded.

We sat down, he broke down what had happened. I am not a computer genius, but I knew that he'd definitely lost the data. We'd have to start from scratch. We'd have to work nonstop for the next few days to get him back to where he needed to be. It was going to be exhausting and frustrating, but it was also going to mean we'd be seeing a lot of each other for the rest of the weekend. Alone. In his house. I wasn't as unhappy about it as I pretended to be. We finished our food and headed in to his living room. I sat on his austere leather couch with his laptop and began working as we had for the last 3 weeks. Except faster. And this time I wasn't the only one staring at someone's crotch. With almost every turn he made around the room, he'd throw a glance towards where my legs crossed, and I was pretty sure my pink lace panties were at least a little visible. I could barely keep the smirk off my face.

"How far along are we?" he asked around midnight, running his hand through his hair.

"Come see for yourself." I patted the couch next to me and he sat down so that our arms were pressed against each other. He leaned in front of me as I pointed to different indicators on the screen that were tallying up the raw data.

"That's good. But not good enough."

"I'm going as fast as I can, Hank."

"Well, it's not fast enough. And when did you decide you could start calling me Hank?" He averted his attention from the screen to my face, piercing my confidence with his cold blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered and stared at my hands fidgeting in my lap. "I just heard other students doing it."

"Wait to be invited next time." I was incredibly embarrassed and tried to just remind myself that he was infamous for his mean streak. He'd always been either \indifferent, condescending or slightly amused with me. Tonight, was the first night that I thought he might actually enjoy my company. But, I'd been wrong. It was actually the first time I was sure he disliked me. I'd gone too far and felt like a complete fool. My face was bright red and I could feel even my chest getting red and blotchy.

He stood up abruptly, and I just looked at the computer screen and pretended to be studying something.

"We need a break," he announced with authority. "Get that computer off your lap and come here." Without thinking I obeyed and followed him back in to the kitchen.

"Sit on the counter." He pointed to an area next to the stove. It was high up so I had to jump and twist my hips which I knew gave him a nice shot of my bare ass. He watched but showed no recognition. He went to the fridge and pulled out two Fat Tire's. Without asking if I wanted one, he popped them both and handed me one. We each took a sip. I hugged mine to my chest while he stood across the kitchen from me with it hanging down by his side. I was terribly confused and becomingly increasingly uncomfortable with the silence.

"So, how long have you lived here, Dr. Lyons?" I cringed inside at how lame I sounded.

"Shh. I'm thinking." This I was familiar with. The shushing was one of his trademarks. I shut my mouth and finished my beer in silence. Without comment he got us each another one. After taking a sip of his new beer, he finally spoke.

"I've been thinking all night. As you sat there in that little skirt, impishly watching me squirm, that you are quite the little brat." My jaw fell open. "I love that slutty skirt and your nipples poking through that thin little shirt." Was he really saying this? I was frozen listening to him talk about me and my body as if he were discussing the distribution frequency of water access in the Chiapas. He stared straight in to my eyes and kept going.

"But, I have to say. I like your doe-eyed docility in my office though your wardrobe there leaves much to be desired. In this outfit, you don't seem to know your place, and until you do, I'm afraid you won't be able to work as effectively as I need you to"

His hard stare was making me squirm, and though I was scared, I knew that whatever he asked, I would do. I was incredibly turned on, so I nodded and tried to look apologetic. He crossed the room to me and slid his hands between my thighs and spread them apart. He stepped in between my spread legs.

"I'd say don't be scared since you look so scared, but I like you scared. I'm glad to see I've wiped the smug little smirk off your face. Now, open your mouth." I obeyed while he took the beer out of my hand and pulled both of my hands behind my back pushing my chest inches from his face. He held both of my thin wrists tightly with one of his large hands. Squeezing them and grinding them together enough to make me whimper. He made his definitive shushing, and I was quiet. With his free hand he pulled the front of my shirt down and freed my small but round breasts. I closed my eyes in embarrassment and excitement. He yanked my wrists hard and qrowled. "Keep them open." I opened my eyes again just in time to see his hand coming towards my face. He slapped me. Hard but not hard enough to leave a mark. "and leave your mouth open. I'll be needing to fill it soon enough." I just nodded as a tear slipped out of my left eye. "Good girl," he said quietly. "The less you say the better." I couldn't believe this was happening. I wanted him so badly but knew it wasn't going to be easy.

I watched as he took me erect left nipple into his mouth. At first, I lavished in the sensation, but quickly he took his teeth and clamped down hard on my areola. I gasped and another tear slid down my cheek. With his other hand he stuck his hand in my mouth and balled his hand into a fist. He took his teeth off my nipple and smiled a cold hard smile. "It looked like you had a big mouth." With his fist in my mouth, I could barely breathe, let alone talk or nod. I just looked at him earnestly. "Hm. It appears I need my other hand now. I don't trust you quite yet, so I'm sorry but I have to do this. He roughly took his fist out of my mouth and took of his belt. He licked and bit all over my neck and chest as he tied the belt around my little wrists, making it far tighter than it needed to be. When he was done, I unintentionally squirmed a bit and he smiled again. "Good, I like you fighting a bit. But," he slapped each of my breasts hard and waited for them to stop jiggling, "don't get carried away."

With that he threw me over his shoulder, my bare ass exposed. I was dying to pull my skirt down to cover it but knew it was futile. Professor Lyons stood there a moment, but I couldn't tell what he was doing, until I felt rather than heard him chuckle "You are a dirty little slut aren't you? You've left quite the puddle on my nice granite counter. I should make you lick it up, but we need to hurry up and get this done so we can get back to work. Another time, I suppose." I considered the implication that there would be other times like this while he carried me down another hallway that I wasn't familiar with. I was excited by the thought of another time and though I was still terrified of what further pain he might inflict on me, I was ready for him to take me to his bedroom.

The room was still dark when he threw me down on the bed face first. The impact hurt my neck, and I attempted to roll over. Instead, Professor Lyons put his hand on the back of my head and pushed my face in to the cool silk of the comforter. "I didn't say to roll over. Stay still." I froze as I fought to breathe through the fabric. "Good," he said and I heard him move away. I heard the click of a lamp and wanted to look around the room but was afraid to move my face to the left or right. In a few moments, he returned. I felt him climb on to the end of the bed and felt his hands, surprisingly gently, running up each of my sprawled apart legs. They slowed as they neared my exposed ass, and it took all my strength not to thrust my pelvis into his hands. Then, he lifted my hips a little and reached around. With one finger he traced a line from my pubis, over my clit and lips and between my ass cheeks all the way till he put a little pressure on my asshole. For the first time, I could hear his pleasure in a small moan. It made me ecstatic to know I'd somehow pleased him. "Wet little pussy," he murmured under his breath. I wasn't breathing when he slapped my ass or when he bit my left ass cheek. I was waiting until he'd feel my wetness again. I began to whimper without meaning to. He responded by grabbing a handful of my long hair and pulling it with a twist of his wrist. I breathed sharply, and he said, "I think I know what you want, but right now, I need you to tell me."

In a small voice, I answered, "I want you inside of me."

"I want you inside of me, what?"

"Please, I want you inside of me, please." I answered quickly.

"I need more than that, Hannah"

My brain was working in overtime. What did he want me to say? And, I remembered how this all started. In my sincerest tone, I finally answered correctly.

"Please, I want you inside of me, Professor Lyons."

"Good Hannah. You're learning." With that, he pushed my panties to the side and thrust two fingers inside of me. "Now, Hannah. You may make some noise." He said this calmly as he finger fucked me hard enough to bruise me and kept my hair pulled tight. I began to moan as his long fingers pounded my g-spot. My nipples were grazing the mattress and my arms were beginning to ache in their awkward position behind my back. All of these odd sensations were bringing me incredibly close when Professor Lyons stopped abruptly. "No, no," he said and slapped my ass. He pulled his fingers out of me and ripped my delicate underwear on both sides. He let go of my hair and I fell face first in to the mattress. This left my ass exposed and up in the air. He rubbed his palm over my pussy roughly, and I moaned in pure frustration.

"I know my dear. I want you in every way. I will take you like this one day, but first I need to watch you cum." With that he flipped me over onto my back, my hands wedged awkwardly beneath me. Roughly, he removed my clothes, biting and slapping any sensitive area he could find in the process. When I was naked except for my boots and almost blind with desire, I focused my eyes, eager to watch him remove his clothes. Instead, he merely surveyed my nakedness with a judging eye. I could feel my face burning. He had not removed a single item of clothing other than his belt in the kitchen, and here I was naked in his bed for him to stare at. After a few undisturbed minutes with only the sound of my heavy, aroused breathing and the only movement, my chest rising and falling, Professor Lyons unzipped his pants and pulled out what had to be the biggest cock I'd ever seen. He didn't even un-tuck his shirt. Just pulled out his gorgeous dick and let me stare at it. He watched my face as I licked my lips and refused to tear my eyes off of it. He continued to watch my face as he slowly ran his hand up and down his impossibly long shaft.

"No," I said before thinking.

"Excuse me, Hannah? Did you just tell me 'No?'" With that, he stopped stroking himself and slapped my naked pussy hard enough to make me wince.