It was Friday, at last, and after the previous day's episode with Trau--err, Professor Witbeck, I was more than a bit eager to attend his class the next day. My hand shot up for every question he asked, and he would always reply with a hint of a grin.
Class was coming to an end, and lunch period crept up quicker than I had anticipated.
Before class was dismissed, Professor Witbeck ended with a final note,
"Enjoy your weekends, but don't forget your quiz over The French Revolution on Monday!"
As the class filed out, similarly to the day before, I stayed in my seat, my gaze fixed on my Professor as he made his way back from his lectern to his desk.
"Do you have any plans for the evening, Professor Witbeck?" I questioned innocently, as if I was asking nothing out of the ordinary.
"Well, Miss Holzer," He began, lowering his voice as he continued, "I intend to enjoy my evening by relaxing, taking a break from grading papers; maybe indulge in a hot bath, some reading, or something like that. And you, yourself?"
"Pretty much the same thing, minus the grading, and all." I said, with a smirk spread across my face.
I stood up and out of my seat, and approached my Professor's desk, the sound of my heels clicking against the tile echoed throughout the room. With each step closer to him, I removed, or loosened an article of clothing... My blazer dropped to the floor, my tie was quickly discarded, my sweater vest soon found its way over my head, and my oxford shirt was loosened a few buttons. I was about 5 feet from his desk when he rose from his seat; he quickly surveyed the situation and his left arm reached around to cradle my lower back. Professor Witbeck's right leg was creeping between my legs as our bodies mingled close together; and I let out a whispered, "Rawr" as his hands slithered down to cup my ass in his palms. As I leaned into him, my lips met his left earlobe and gave it a little suck; my Professor couldn't help but suppress a tiny moan, and squeezed me closer to him. His erection was becoming more prominent, but the second we heard a crash outside of the classroom, he grumbled and muttered,
"I suppose we'll have to continue this another time."
"Can't you stay?" I wearily queried, executing the 'sad puppy' look.
"You know I can't Miss Holzer, I have an obligation to investigate the situation. I need to go now."
Our bodies parted, and I gathered my clothing items, and bags, and found a window of opportunity to 'sneak' out of Professor Witbeck's classroom.
Following my afternoon classes, I found myself restless in my quarters, unable to focus on anything but my Professor; it was no wonder so many women were after him! My goodness, that gaze, that hair, that walk, that cock! I could go on for hours. The sounds and pleasures of his moans, thrusts, and kisses soon flooded into my mind and I could feel myself getting wrapt up in another detailed fantasy about him, but soon stopped myself before my fingers reached the wetness forming between my thighs.
The night passed, uneventfully, yet the next morning (a Saturday) I awoke with a start. There was a knocking at my door. I scrambled out of bed, grabbing any item of clothing I could find lying on the floor (I generally sleep in the nude) and shouted out,
"Hold on! One minute, one minute!", as I pulled on a pair of black jazz pants and a loose pink tee. As I made my way to my door, I latched onto the knob and swung it open; much to my dismay it was simply the mail-deliverer. (Okay, so I go to a snobby boarding school.) It was a male with a messenger bag swung over his shoulder, and a blue blazer (to somehow symbolize that he was more superior than ordinary students); he outstretched his hand to give me a crisp white envelope, void of stamps or a return address. I looked at him, a bit puzzled, and took it from him, to which he unenthusiastically tipped his hat in my direction. Shutting the door behind me I quickly opened the letter, which merely contained a note on the academy's stationary paper. It read:
Terribly sorry for yesterday's escapade, and our interrupted activities the other day; maybe this evening I can compensate?
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