I sit in my last class of my second semester, once again catching myself daydreaming. I know I should be paying attention, I need a better mark in this class, but I just don't enjoy it. It's boring. I like most of my classes but this one just doesn't interest me.
Just like the last date I went on. He seemed nice, but he didn't stop staring at my tits and yet had nothing of interest to say. 2 hours of small talk without so much as a flirt or a joke, and when we went our separate ways after, he actually shook my hand. Sure, he was staring at my breasts when he did it, but we both knew we wouldn't be seeing each other again.
Okay, stop. Focus. You need to pay attention. Look at the professor. He seems to know his stuff, maybe if you watch how he delivers it you can find some kind of interesting facts...
Wow, how did I not notice how sexy he was before? I guess I just learned to zone out in every class, but damn. Tall, solid build, strong, and when he talks he gestures a lot with his hands. Hands that I can imagine on me...
Fuck, I need to get laid. I shift in my seat, letting my legs part slightly, instantly feeling relief after sitting so tensely. I idly flick my pen back and forth, thankful I chose this seat near the front where no one can see what my hands are doing. Did I just flick my pen across my nipple? Oh, I need this.
My other hand drops casually to my side, but slides sweetly across my thigh, under the desk and pushes the hem of my skirt higher so I can dip my fingers underneath. I want to rub my pussy so bad. I don't want anyone to know, but I didn't wear panties today and I'm SO glad I made that choice.
Luckily the table is more of a lower desk height and I'm sitting along one edge so no one knows that my skirt has been pulled up and my fingertip is slowly circling my pussy lips, knowing they'll be wet soon.
This is way better than listening to some lecture. I could probably cum right here and no one would know. Feeling brave, I slowly drag my fingertip across my clit, feeling the rush of breath as my body responds to the hand it knows so well. Fuck, I need to cum so bad!
Suddenly I'm jolted out of my self pleasure by the sense of someone staring at me. Oh shit, it's the professor. He knelt down to pick up the marker he dropped and got a complete eyeful of my hand in my pussy. I quickly shift my legs and let my skirt drop back into place, but I know he's seen it all.
Suddenly he's striding across the room towards my seat, not missing a beat in whatever topic he was on. He finishes his point, then leans forward over my notes, pretending to assist with something I wrote and drops his voice "I see my material isn't interesting enough for you. I'll see you after class." My face is pink with embarrassment, or is that arousal? His whispered voice did something to me, I want to hear it again.
Is it just me or does he have a bulge in his jeans as he resumes speaking?
I have no idea what the last 10 minutes of the class were about, although I tried. The professor didn't even look my way for the rest of the class, and he spent most of it perched on the corner of his desk with his back slightly towards me. Why does that make me feel jealous and left out?
Finally the end of the day arrives. As he casually dismisses the class and reminds us that it's a long weekend so no class on Monday, he meets my eye and tilts his head ever so slightly in a beckoning way. I know I need to approach him.
I gather up my things and slowly walk towards his desk, my heeled boots softly tapping on the floor. Usually a handful of students stick around (now that I think about it, it's almost always women) to chat with him and I'm hoping that's the case so I can buy time to think of what I'm going to say, but of course today everyone is eager to get their weekend started and before I know it, it's just the 2 of us in the room.
He busies himself by erasing the white board of notes, and I take a deep breath and edge slightly closer to him.
"I'm sorry for not paying better attention in your class."
When the first words leave my mouth, he seems to tense up slightly, like what I've said bothers him more than he wants to let on.
He pauses what he's doing then softly replies "I know this class isn't everyone's cup of tea, but you show up, always sit near the front, and act like you want to be here. I know you're smart, you don't seem like the kind who will fuck away her college education. Am I wrong?"
When he mentions the word fuck, I feel a rush of pink cover my cheeks. This time it's definitely embarrassing, I feel like me being in this class means something to him. I feel his blue eyes waiting on my face, searching for an answer.
"I want to be here, I really do."
With a soft sigh, I lean against the edge of his desk, placing my books beside me. I know what I have to say, I feel almost ashamed to say it though. Keeping my eyes on my skirt covered knees, I say what I think he wants to hear:
"I know I didn't respect you or your time today, and that was wrong. I'm struggling with a lot of things right now, and I guess I got bored and tried to entertain myself instead. It was wrong and I know that."
Silence.
I don't hear him at the white board anymore. I don't hear him at all. Glancing up, I turn to see if he's behind his desk, but movement on the other side of the room catches my eye. Somehow, he stepped quietly over to the classroom door and pulled it shut without a sound. He makes sure it's locked, then takes a few long strides back to where I sit on his desk and stands just far enough away from me to maintain proprietary teacher protocol, but again I can feel his eyes on my face.
"Trying to keep a college balance of academics and a love life is par for the course for most people I see here, and forgive me for saying so, but you don't seem to be in the same world as most people. You seem older, in a good way of course."
I meet his eyes and can't believe how kind they are. They're a deep blue, and I feel like they know me somehow already.
"You're right, I started college later than most people, but I can hold my own against the 20 year olds, I'll have you know." I reply with a smile.
I'm guessing he's in his late 30s or early 40s, so he probably knows a thing or two about the 20 somethings coming on to him.
"Is that right? I suppose I saw that side of you earlier. There is still the issue of blatant disregard for the code of student conduct in my class. Even if you want to be here and you do your best, I cannot ignore what you did today."
Interesting choice of words. He cannot ignore it. Suddenly, neither can I. Feeling naughty, I meet his eye and ask
"You cannot ignore it, or you don't want it?"
He blinks at me. I slowly slide one hand down my skirt covered thigh, not risking anything other than making him notice my movement. He clears his throat. "Well, I'll have you know that I expect... um... "
His words drift off as his eyes travel down my body, perched on his desk, with my hand resting lightly on my inner thigh.