Professor Kanes Erotic Dreams

Professor Joel Kane's eyes began to glaze over as he read what he dearly hoped was the last page of the ecology student essay:

'What a thrill it would be to walk the plains of North America as they were in the Pleistocene Age, twelve thousand years ago. To see great herds of camels, mammoths, and ground sloths, and other species of megafauna that soon became extinct. Now they exist only as fossils.'

Joel took another sip of decaf, seeing by the clock in his study that it was nearly midnight. The room was lit only by his desk lamp and the nearby street lights of Tulsa. A light mist hung outside in the night air.

C'mon, he thought, whoever wrote this, please let it be the last page. His policy when grading essays by his students at Marland University was to fold back the cover page, so that he did not know the name of the writer and could be completely objective as he read the essay. Like all teachers, Joel felt a natural fondness for some of his students. Others irritated the hell out of him.

He read the last sentences on the page: 'We may never know what caused this great extinction of mammals: climate change, overhunting by humans, or even a catastrophe like a meteor impact. But it will continue to be debated for years to come.'

Finally! Joel thought in relief. Last essay finished. Only then did he notice that there was yet another page attached to the essay. With a deep sigh, he turned the page and began to read once more:

'Thrills of ecstasy coursed through Amy as her lips glided down Ryan's cock, letting his smooth hard manhood fill her mouth. She hesitated, and then drew the cock deep into her throat. Moaning quietly, she swallowed all of her lover. She savored the masculine scent of him as she buried her face in his dark pubic hair. Her throat muscles gently massaged his thick shaft even as her lips firmly squeezed the base of his cock.'

What the hell? Joel thought. What does this have to do with theories on megafauna extinction? Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued to read:

'With his cock still deep in her throat, Amy sighed as Ryan's hand glided over her soft, pear-shaped buttocks. He then moved his hand down to caress her swollen pussy lips. She gasped slightly as first one finger, then a second probed and gently thrust back and forth in her wet pussy.'

'She drew up from his cock. Shaking her thick mane of red hair, she gazed at her lover, a look of raw passion on her face. Her emerald green eyes smoldered as Ryan continued to explore the warmth and wetness of her pussy with his right hand, while the other caressed her enormous breasts, cream-colored works of perfection.

"Oh Amy," Ryan murmured, entirely under the spell of this sexy young goddess. "Sometimes I think you are too beautiful! I can't resist you! No man could!"

The girl licked her pink lips and spoke, the voice of a woman who knows what she wants. "Then show it," she said in a low, sensual tone. "Fuck me, Ryan. I need a hard cock, and we've all night here in this cabin. Yes, fuck me again and again! To hell with school and my parents and our fiancées! I just want your big cock deep in me!"

"God, yes, Amy!" the man cried. The lovers joined in a deep passionate kiss, a kiss that expressed all the pent up desires that coursed through their bodies. Then, Ryan eased Amy over onto her back. She spread her legs, eager to feel his hard throbbing cock enter her.'

Whoa, Joel thought, this is hot. Who wrote it? He quickly turned to the cover page and read the title:

'Current Ideas on Pleistocene Megafauna Extinction, by Amy Collins'

Amy Collins? he thought. Who is she? I don't know her yet. Joel ticked off in his mind the coeds who had caught his eye during the first month of his course, Biology 202, General Ecology. Hmm, there's Jennifer, cute brunette with bedroom eyes; Rachel, voluptuous and with an air of availability. And buxom Ashley; sits in the first row, always wears something cut low to show décolletage. Lovely Victoria: tall, lithe; moves like a cat on the prowl.

Amy Collins? Joel struggled to recall the other twenty or so students in the class. Finally it came to him. Oh yes. Shy, mousy little thing. She sits near the back of the class on the left. Wears horn-rimmed glasses; hasn't asked a question all semester.

Joel smiled to himself. Well now, little Amy Collins, why did you include some hard core erotica in your ecology essay? How should I handle it? He was tempted to write something clever at the top of the last page: This belongs in our Sexology 101 class! Or perhaps, Did you fully research this part of your essay!

He glanced again at the essay, noticing that the first four sheets were perfectly aligned, but the last sheet, on which was written the sex scene, was not. That sheet was barely held by the staple that bound the pages together. An idea grew into certainty. This was, of course, an accident. Sweet little Amy never meant to include it in her essay. She picked up the essay from her desk or her printer, and hurriedly stapled the sheets together. She didn't know that she'd inadvertently added a steamy sex scene she'd written.

Has she realized it by now? I wonder what she'll do tomorrow in class, he thought. Let's try an experiment. With a slight grin, Joel carefully pried open the staple holding the essay sheets. He removed the last page; then, pressed the staple back just as it had been.

*******

The next morning, Professor Joel Kane stood before his full-length bedroom mirror, admiring what he saw. His self-assured look; dark stylishly cut hair. He wore eyeglasses, Versace of course, and a sweater vest to project an image of the scholar.

But Joel old boy, he thought, you're still a babe magnet. His glacier blue eyes, chiseled features, and buff six-foot frame guaranteed that. Thank goodness for good genes and a good gym, he mused. Since his teen years, he's received admiring looks from many women. Looks that often led to the inevitable: the woman, her thighs pressed firmly against his torso, crying out in passion as he took a man's pleasure with her.

He glance briefly to the picture of Brianna Taylor on his nightstand. Buxom Brianna, her lush body a garden of delights in bed, as well he knew. Although not officially engaged, it was only a matter of time. He, a handsome young professor; she, a lovely young financial analyst, both from the best families in Tulsa. They were meant for each other. Everyone said so.

Three hours later, Joel entered the ecology lecture hall and began to spread student essays along the long desk at the front of the room. "Okay," he announced to the class, "I've graded all your essays. Come and get them." There was a clamor as every student came forward to retrieve their essay.

His eyes went to Amy Collins in the back. Slight of build, she was dressed modestly in jeans and a loose-fitting knit sweater. A distinct blush on her cheeks, she approached the desk and picked up her essay. Swallowing hard, she looked at the grade, A-, on the second page. She then did exactly what Joel expected.

Amy quickly looked at the last page of her essay; then, heaved a quiet sigh of relief. Joel, standing on the other side of the desk, watched with keen interest. He noticed that Amy's light brown hair, cut very short and parted off center, was in fact soft and luxuriant.

Their eyes met. Amy's chocolate brown eyes were surprisingly large and expressive; the sort of eyes a man can stare into and lose all track of time. He glanced down to her lips, startled to see how full and pink they were. The thought came unbidden: lips perfect for kissing a man; for enclosing a man's cock.

Amy eyed him nervously. Joel could not resist saying, "Yes, Amy? What is it?"

"Nothing, Professor Kane," she replied in a quiet voice. She turned and walked, indeed scurried, back to her desk in the rear of the room. Her jeans outlined a firm round derriere that drew Joel's eyes like a magnet.

He shook his head, surprised by the effect Amy had had on him. What's come over me, he thought. She's still a little mouse, nothing like Victoria or Jennifer. And yet ...

*******

That evening, Joel read Science magazine, enjoying an extra brandy before going to bed early. Sometime later, he found himself on an open, wind-swept prairie, gazing at a herd of wooly mammoths in the distance. He looked down and saw that he was completely naked.

Then the Indian girl was there, her brown eyes gleaming as she looked at him. She undid the ties to her buckskin dress. It fell to the ground, revealing her own nude body. She ran her tongue over her pink lips; then, knelt before Joel. She grasped his semi-hard cock in her slim hand. With a slight smile, she murmured, "I'd love to suck your cock, Professor Kane. May I? I want to feel it deep in my throat."

The girl did not wait for an answer. Joel shuddered in pure delight as he felt his cock engulfed by the warmth and wetness of her mouth. Now watching a lumbering ground sloth nearby, the man sighed as the girl held his buttocks with her hands and slowly, easily, swallowed all of him. She then held the cock, gently massaging it with her throat muscles.

Joel gasped again as he suddenly awakened. He stared up at the bedroom ceiling, breathing hard. His cock was fully stiff and erect. The slightest touch would send him into an orgasm.

Joel now recalled the dream. It had seemed so real. The Indian maiden, her mouth giving pleasure beyond imagining. And her lustrous brown eyes. Not the eyes of my lovely Brianna. Not those of my front row sex kittens Ashley or Victoria. No. The girl whose eyes looked deep into mine, whose mouth pleasured my cock, was Amy Collins. Shy, mousy little Amy Collins. What the hell is going on?

*******

Love, said the philosopher Pascal, has reasons which reason cannot understand. Perhaps it is the same when a man becomes infatuated with a young woman. There is no logic, no rational principle to it. It merely happens.

Joel's days became filled with thoughts of Amy Collins. At night she appeared in his dreams, raising him to levels of sexual excitement that he never felt with any woman. In one recurring dream, Amy came to the lecture hall and studiously took notes. Only Joel seemed aware that she was in fact stark naked.

In another dream, Joel stood at the chalk board, describing the principles of plant succession. The students quietly watched and listened. None seemed to notice that Amy had walked to the front of the room, knelt before her professor, unzipped his pants, and drawn out his manhood. She calmly sucked his cock even as he lectured. Joel never paused or hesitated as he talked.

Joel was sure that had Amy been a voluptuary like Rachel, who displayed her charms to one and all, he would not have been so fascinated with her. Had Amy been a flirtatious slut, her name well-known at every fraternity house, he would not feel this way.

No. What held him in her grip was the fact that here was a plain, ordinary young woman, yet possessed of a vivid imagination. Seemingly quiet and shy, she harbored within her a secret fantasy world, a world of raw passionate sex. It was that which captivated the man: the striking contrast between what Amy Collins appeared to be and what she truly was.

Joel dared not look at her during lectures. The sight of her, peering thoughtfully at him through horn-rimmed glasses, reminded him of his dreams. It invariably aroused him; caused his manhood to stiffen. Is she thinking of ecology, he wondered. Or sex? His lectures suffered.

Who is Amy Collins? I must know more about her, he decided. He visited Professor Adrian Lee, who was advisor to all the biology students at Marland. After the usual small talk, Joel asked about the background of his ecology students; say, Amy Collins, for example.

"Amy?" the older man replied. "Ah yes, sweet little girl. Smart as a whip, but hasn't had an easy life. She borrowed money to go to college. Comes from over in Red Rock. Ever been there?"

"No. Isn't that mostly a Native American town?"

"Yep. Otoe-Missouria tribe. Amy's on the tribal rolls, I believe."

The news startled Joel. "So, she's like, an Indian maiden?"

Lee laughed. "I guess you could call her that. She's about one-fourth native, as I recall."

His only refuge from Amy was in Brianna Taylor's arms. Their lovemaking became more passionate than ever. Joel's appetite for sex grew insatiable. Several weeks after reading the fateful essay, Joel and Brianna spent the evening at home, which is to say, in bed. Near midnight, he found himself between the woman's legs, worshiping with his lips and tongue her delectable pussy.

He could not get enough of Brianna. His tongue eagerly glided over and into each fold and crevice of her sex. He held her swollen clitoris between his lips as Brianna cried out, clutching his hair with both hands.

Then, just before tipping her over the edge into orgasm, Joel drew back, now planting gentle kisses on her puffy labia. He slid up and into her arms. They exchanged kisses flavored with the piquant juices of the young woman's pussy.

They paused. Joel could see her half-closed eyes, which he knew to be gray in color, glowing in the faint light coming through the windows. The weather had turned cool; a light mist hung in the night air.

"My turn?" Brianna murmured.

"If you like."

"Oh, I like," she smiled. Then she was on her knees beside him, holding his hard cock and planting soft kisses on the head. Joel's right hand moved over her thighs and her magnificent derriere. Then to a pussy that now felt drenched and possessed of a heat of its own.

Joel held his breath as Brianna took his manhood. Most of the shaft glided into her mouth. Soon she was slowly and rhythmically sucking his cock.

The man felt he might explode from the pure delight of it all. "Aah, yes," he sighed. "Oh god Amy, that's wonderful."

Joel would later decide that a period of about three seconds elapsed as Brianna froze, now holding his cock such that her teeth touched his shaft. Then, like a tigress, she rose up and pounced on him.

"Amy? Who the hell is Amy!" she said through gritted teeth. Stunned by how quickly things had turned, Joel looked at her, speechless. He saw her yellow hair outlined by the street lights; the gleam of moisture on her lips and her forehead.

"What?" he finally gasped.

"You called me Amy, you bastard! Now who the hell is she?" The words were fired at him like bullets.

Joel swallowed. "I don't know. Are you sure I called you that?"

"Yes you did." Brianna grabbed his hair and held him roughly. "Listen to me, Joel," she hissed, her eyes mere inches from his, "there is never a good time to accidentally call a woman by another woman's name. But believe me, the worst time of all is when she has your dick in her mouth. Now who is Amy, damn you!"

In matters of love, when a woman has suspicions, the cardinal rule for a man is simple: deny, deny, deny. But having made one terrible blunder already tonight, Joel compounded his troubles by telling the truth. He told all: the sex scene Amy had written; his erotic dreams of her. Everything.

After he had finished, Brianna sat on the bed, wearing a Ralph Lauren wrap robe and sipping the last of their merlot. "Joel," she began, "none of this makes sense. You've never even talked to the girl? You say she's not all that pretty, and she's one of your students for Pete's sake. And you got turned on because she wrote some porn you accidentally read? It's crazy."

Joel nodded. "I know. I thought it would pass, but it hasn't. I try to resist, but every time I look at her in class, instead of a quiet young girl, I see this sexy woman she described in the erotica she wrote. The sexy girl in my dreams. I can't stop thinking about her."

After a long silence, Brianna said, "Joel, I think you should leave now."

He sighed, and then replied, "We're in my condo tonight."

"Oh, right. I forgot. Well, I guess I should be the one to leave."

"That sounds rather final."

"Maybe it is," Brianna replied in a quiet voice. And it was.

*******

The school semester dragged on and finally ended. Grades were given out; the students scattered. As unsettling as it had been to see Amy Collins during his lectures, far worse was to not see her at all. Joel's dreams of her became more vivid than ever. Finally mustering his courage, he donned jeans, a T-shirt under a cotton blazer, and went to the apartment where she lived.

Her apartment row was shabby; low rent. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and Amy Collins looked at him in amazement through her horn-rimmed glasses. She was unkempt, wearing an Eskimo Joe T-shirt and faded jeans. Yet even then Joel ached to hold her in his arms; to cover her with kisses.

"Professor Kane?" she cried. "What are you doing here? What's happened?"

"Nothing, Amy," he replied nervously. "I was ... was in the neighborhood, and thought I'd look you up."

Thoroughly nonplussed, the girl stared at him for a moment; then said, "Well, okay, come in, I guess."

Joel entered the apartment, noticing the chipped paint on the walls; the cheap furniture; the faint musty aroma of old carpets and old plumbing. Amy looked at him, still seemingly unsure if she were actually seeing the man.

"Would like something to drink, Professor Kane? I've got some Sprite."

"Yes. No, no, I won't stay long." Now feeling like an awkward teenager, he said, "I actually came to see if... if you would go out on a date with me, Amy."

The girl, open mouthed, looked at him in astonishment. "Me?"

"Yes."

"Me?" she asked again, the dazed look still on her face.

"I don't see any other pretty girls in the room," smiled Joel. "And if you're wondering, Marland U. has no policy against unmarried faculty dating students, as long as the student is not in his or her class and won't be in the future."

Shaking her head, Amy finally responded. "Well, sure, I suppose so."

A wave of relief swept over Joel. "Great. How about this Friday. We could have dinner. Do you like Italian?"

"It's okay."

"The Pepperoni Grill isn't far from here. We could go there. Pick you up at, say, seven?"

The puzzled look remained. "Sure; that's fine."

*******

That Friday, a suave professor once again felt himself a nervous teenager as he rang Amy's doorbell. She opened the door and invited him in. Now the girl was dressed in a denim jacket, white knit sweater, and knee-length plaid skirt. Joel smiled as he gazed at her luminous brown eyes and soft lips, saying, "You look quite lovely, Amy. Quite lovely."

"Thank you, Professor," she replied in an even voice.

"Some flowers for you, of course. And please, call me Joel," he said smoothly, producing a bouquet of carnations and forget-me-nots. Amy smiled. The smile, however, did not reach her eyes.

Joel sensed a coolness about Amy that he had not felt before as they drove to the restaurant and were seated. He ordered a nice Chablis. Amy, being only twenty, could only order a Coke.

The silence between them grew awkward. Finally, taking a deep breath, Amy began to speak. "Professor Kane ... Joel, I've figured out why you asked me on a date."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Now blushing, the girl continued. "I sometimes write ... well, erotic stories for myself. And I'm almost certain that one page of a story got accidentally stapled to my first ecology report. It wasn't there when you handed back our essays, but I think you read it. Did you, Joel?"

After a pause, Joel said quietly, "Yes Amy, I read it."

The girl's eyes grew dark. "Look, I know you're a sophisticated, handsome guy. Half the girls on campus would hop into bed with you if you asked them. And I'm just little Amy, someone that no one looks at twice when I walk by."

Her eyes now glowed from some inner fire. "But I'm not a nothing, Joel. I'm somebody, and I've got pride and self-respect. So if the purpose of this date is to somehow get me to play out what I did in my sex story with you, to say and do those things, well, forget it! It's not going to happen."