To say I was a late bloomer, would be an understatement. I was a gymnast and looked every bit the part. Between eight and ninth grade, I arrived. I had always been cute, but now I was pretty. Going through high school, I got prettier and my body got better. I was 5'3 and around ninety five pounds. I had firm, A to B cup breast and an ass that I caught a lot of guys checking out. I had golden blonde hair well below my shoulders and ice blue eyes. I had one boyfriend from sophomore year in high school until after my junior year in college. I lost my virginity to him during our sophomore year at university. I was a late bloomer sexually as well.
After my third year, I traveled overseas on a six week foreign study program. A lot of things changed that summer as I realized there was more to life than what I knew. I wanted to expand my horizons, so to speak. When I returned home, I broke up with my long time boyfriend. I had met a young man on the trip that I was attracted to. We attended the same university and when the fall started, I hoped we would run in to each other. I am very shy and don't say much. I didn't know if he noticed me on the trip or not.
As fate would have it, we ran into each other and we began dating. We dated for quite a while and when we got engaged in the Spring, I had sex with my second man. As our relationship progressed, I found myself thinking more about sexual things. My thoughts, or fantasies, were not focused on my fiancé exclusively. I began to realize that I had been having sexual thoughts back to high school and didn't realize it. I was always the good girl and the obedient daughter. I would never bring shame on my parents, so I never acted on any of my impulses.
The second semester of my senior year, I took a course called Social Problems. When my professor walked in, I finally understood what all of those feelings in my body had been the last several years. He was about thirty years old with brown hair. He was about 6'1 and 180lbs. He was dressed in tan slacks and a light green polo shirt. He had a very dry sense of humor and was very intelligent. I was attracted to him immediately. James Hoenfeld was going to be the focus of a lot of my thoughts this semester and they were not going to be thoughts about social problems.
I knew I was pretty and that guys were attracted me. I was very shy and hadn't figured out how to overcome this. I dressed very well, whether it was jeans and a shirt, light and airy spring dresses or a nice skirt. I knew I had a really nice body. I didn't voice this out loud, I had just caught guys checking me out and my sorority sisters told me when we would have our girl talks. I'd wear my hair down or put it up with a ribbon. I was pretty and innocent. My first problem was I was engaged, and my second problem was I was sexually attracted to James and had to figure out what I was going to do about it. As I set in class, I knew I wanted to fuck him. I can't believe I admitted that to myself. I had to up my game and flirt with him more in class so he would ask me to his office.
I dressed very nicely, but also sexily. In jeans, I caught James staring at my ass. I smiled to myself. I knew my ass was sexy and very tight. In a skirt with a tight shirt, I knew he was wondering what I would look like bent over his desk. I know I was. In a dress, he stared at my legs all through class and watched me when I got up to leave. James handed back our first assignment over racial inequality. I hurried out into the hall to see what he had written on my paper. I got full marks for the assignment and he had written I had critiqued the topic very well. He said he found me very intelligent. I thought I might see an opening. I am very much sapiosexual and maybe he was as turned on by my intelligence as I was by his.
The next few classes seemed to turn up the heat for me. I was lost in some of his lectures imagining his lips on my neck, my cheek, my nipples and finally, my pussy. As long as I was just fantasizing, I might as well enjoy it. My fiancé didn't have to know. My written work continued to be excellent and his notes kept getting a little more personal. When I say personal, I mean bolder in wanting to spend time discussing class topics. He complimented me on my intelligence and told me he had never had an undergraduate student that was more insightful.
Then I received my paper back on income inequality. I didn't get an A because he didn't agree with my conclusions. I knew he had supported Mondale in 1984 and I was forever a Reagan girl. That alone told me that no matter what happened, we wouldn't have much of a future. James invited me to his office to discuss our differing points of view. I wasn't worried about our future past this semester. I knew whom I was going to marry. Dr. James Hoenfeld would be a smile and warm, wet memory for the rest of my life. I was going to give in to those feelings in my body that he aroused. I didn't act on the same feelings in high school with a "bad boy" and I had always regretted it. I was not going to regret this.
I put a lot of though into what I would wear and how I would look. I decided to ask to meet with him immediately after our next class. Our class ended at 1:50pm and it was Friday. Most students and professors would disappear to start an early weekend. I dressed in a light blue skirt that came down above my knees. I thought casual, flat sandals would be best. They look good and could slide off quickly. I chose a cream colored cotton top with lace around the collar. I had it buttoned up in class. I had my long, golden hair pulled back in a ribbon to match my skirt. I accented my twenty year old body with light touches of makeup and my favorite perfume. I did wear a bra that showed off my firm, pert breast. My final selection was my lace, baby blue, thong panties under my skirt. I didn't look different from most days, except for the last two selections of my outfit.
The time came to go to class. I arrived a couple of minutes early and he was already there. It was sparsely attended as several students had already left for the weekend. Before I sat down, I walked over to him and stood to his left side to tell him I was willing to discuss our different perspectives after class. I was a little nervous and he seemed to pick up on it. He put his left hand over mine and squeezed it. He told me there was nothing to be nervous about and he was very happy to have the opportunity to privately discuss things. I was even more nervous now, as his touch had set me on fire and my thong panties were getting damp.
I don't remember what he talked about. One by one, students bailed until about halfway through class it was just us and about five other students. I was lost in my fantasy of how this was going to unfold when I noticed everyone leaving and came back into the real world. James asked me what I was thinking about and I responded our meeting. I don't know if he knew what I was dreaming about, but I hoped he did. It would be so much easier if he made the first move.
I got up and walked with him to his office. My panties were getting wetter and I hoped he didn't know, yet. He was an Instructor hoping to earn his Assistant Professorship. His office was little more than a large closet with a desk, window and comfortable chair for one student. The office was on the third floor so the window could be open and the fan on. Nobody could see in. As we walked in, he offered me a chair and closed the door. I thought I saw him lock the door. Now, I knew we were on the same page.
My mind drifted back to high school when I had one chance to say something to Jeff, the bad boy, and didn't. I was nervous now when I half stammered and half said that I had been attracted to James since the first time I saw him in our class. There. It was out and at that moment, I very favorably disposed to the memory of Jeff that caused me to go through with it here.
James smiled at me. He told me he couldn't keep his eyes off me since the first day, either. He said he always wondered what I would be wearing in class and what I would be wearing when I finally came to his office? I told him, "I dressed with every piece picked out just for you". He confessed the skirts were his favorite, but I think whatever I wore would have been his favorite. It was obvious we were both nervous. The tension was fairly palpable as we both knew we were about to cross a line that neither had before.