The warm air rushed through my window as I opened it, welcoming in the warm spring air. Spring quarter was always my favorite, as the weather got warmer and I could finally shed my heavy winter clothes. The smell of freshly cut grass wafted in my window as I got ready for class, carefully choosing my outfit.
One of my classes this quarter was Psychology 101, a basic introduction class. I didn't need to take it, but I needed to fill my class schedule, and it seemed interesting enough. What I didn't expect was the hot young teacher. Mr. Waters was tall, darker skinned and well built. His muscles appeared to be about to burst, his white button up keeping them neatly wrapped. I'm constantly distracted in that class, sometimes even leaving quickly to go home and masturbate.
I shook my head with a smile, picking out a nice outfit. It was skirt season, which meant that I was wearing them at any opportunity. I got a thrill at the thought of someone sneaking a peek at my underwear without me knowing. I slid a silky red pair up my legs, followed by my short plaid skirt. I slid on a cream-colored white button-up to finish the professional look. After applying some makeup and perfume, I hurried out the door, grabbing my bag near the door.
After a few hours, I finally made it to his class. He taught in a huge lecture hall of nearly 200 people, so I always tried to sit near the front to catch his attention. I knew it wouldn't work, but the possibility of it kept me going. I sat in the aisle a few rows up from the front for easy access to leave, and settled in. Mr. Waters wasn't there yet, so I got comfortable and pulled out my supplies.
5 minutes after class was supposed to start, Mr. Waters comes rushing in, making his way hurriedly to the front of the classroom.
"Sorry, y'all. I got caught up with something." He said this as he placed his belongings on the desk, looking up and scanning the crowd. His eyes passed through mine, and it was like my heart skipped a beat; I could feel myself blush in response.
"Let's not waste any more time and begin." He flexed his shoulders and squared them before continuing, his authority settling over the class.
"Sex. You're all in college; no need to tiptoe around the word. Sex is often seen as the fundamental function that helps us continue the species, but it's more than our need to procreate. It's about our sensual pleasure, about what we feel. The enjoyment of being touched by another body, the heavenly delight of the climb to an orgasm, and then the heightening climax before coming to the relaxation afterwards."
I could feel my stomach twist and turn as I listened to him speak like this. The way he paused and pushed his point made me squeeze my thighs together and look down to focus on my notebooks for a few seconds. It was hard to keep my mind from imagining him shirtless, his chest glistening from sweat as he hovered above me. I tightly shut my eyes for a moment to get rid of the imagery.
Mr. Waters continued on with how sex affects our brains and the chemical differences, but I wasn't really paying attention. I mean, how could you, with a hot teacher talking about sex? I was for sure going to hell thinking about a stranger this way.
"What about kinks and fetishes? That seems like something is wrong with the brain." I tuned back in as I heard a student ask the question, looking back at the professor, who had a small smile on his lips.
"On the contrary, kinks and fetishes can be how people express themselves and enjoy themselves. There was a study done that asked people to recall their earliest memories of their kinks, and it concluded that people can start finding and identifying their sexual experiences as young as 5. There is an inherent belief, perpetrated by religion or society, that sex shouldn't be enjoyed, especially by women. However, stable and secure relationships are built upon pleasure and making each other feel good." I felt like his eyes stayed on me for a tad too long, but I think it was just my imagination. I could feel myself getting warm at the thought.
"But some people like weird stuff, like pain or feet. Those don't seem right." a student continued.
"For almost everything in the world, someone can get off on it. Feet, pain, hair, dressing up like a nurse, blood, choking, acting like a dog, being submissive..." his eyes stayed on mine for a second "or dominant, it's all how we chose to express ourselves." I shifted in my seat and his eyes left mine.
"There isn't anything wrong with liking these things, unless of course it has to do with harming another without their consent or killing someone" the class let out a small laugh. "There is always someone out there who likes the same thing. Depending on how much you value your kink or fetish, this can be a dealbreaker for some in relationships. Unfortunately, that's all the time we have for today. Please read chapter 25 and complete the exercises before next class, and don't forget to look at your grades from the last paper and talk to me if you have any questions!" The class was already packing up and leaving as he finished speaking, excited to be out of class and on towards the rest of the afternoon.
"Ms. Violet, can you stay behind for just a minute?" I turned around to look at Mr. Waters, who was leaning against his desk. His eyes seemed to bore into my eyes. My feet slowly moved towards him, the room getting quieter.
"Ms. Violet, I just wanted to check in with you. Your last paper wasn't up to par with what you normally submit." My shoulders fell at the remark. I thought I did well with this last paper.
"I feel fine. Can I ask what's wrong with my paper?"
"Your thesis was strong, but I feel like your defense was scattered. I've seen you write better than this."
I felt like I was being disciplined by a parent. I blushed in shame, looking down at my shoes, unaware of how to continue.
"I don't want to give my best student a bad grade, so I will give you until tonight to submit something different. Please bring your printed paper to my office at 8pm tonight." He coolly turned away from me and back to his stuff, gathering it. There was no room for arguing.
"Thank you, sir! I won't be a minute late!" I quickly turned and headed out the door, eager to get a start on the paper. I wanted to graduate at the top of my class, and although I didn't agree with his assessment, I was eager to do anything that helped my grade.
I spent the rest of the afternoon on my paper, revising and reediting it to make sense. It was difficult, given that I couldn't see my mistakes, but I pushed through with the help of coffee. By the time I finished it was 7:30. With a rush, I printed my paper and hurried towards his office. Despite the spring air it was still cold at night, and I cursed myself for not changing out of my skirt before heading over.
"Few minutes to spare." I muttered to myself as I approached his door. I took a few seconds to catch my breath, smoothing down my hair and adjusting my clothing before I knocked on his door. The sound echoed down the dark and empty hallway.
"Come in." I heard from the other side of the door.
Once in I quietly shut the door behind me, taking in the office. It was dark wood and illuminated by a few lamps, which set a dark tone to the room. I could feel my heart speed up. I watched him scribble on his paper before looking up at me through his eyelashes.
"Please, sit down."
I scurried over to the seat, cringing at the sound of my heels against the floor. Once seated I placed the paper on his desk, watching as he took it from my hands.
"I'll grade it now if you don't mind waiting." He said, reading my expression. I shook my head.
"No, I don't mind." I did mind. I didn't want to know what he thought of my writing, I felt the silence suffocating me.
As he was reading my paper, he started marking it up. Underlining, circling, and writing notes in the margins, he spared no thoughts. The sound of his pen was the only sound in the room as he graded it in front of me, emotionless.
"Do you expect me to accept this?" He asked, still grading the paper. My mouth dropped open.
"I don't -- I don't understand." I stammered.
"Do. You. Expect. Me. To. Accept. This?" He punctuated harshly. Opposite of his tone, he gently placed the paper and pen down as his eyes met mine.
"I fixed what you asked. I feel like I did well on this paper." I tried to defend myself, feeling myself shrink into the seat.
"This is poor work. I asked you to fix the mess, and instead you created a different mess." He sighed. Mr. Waters stood up and shoved his hands in his pants pocket. He walked slowly around his desk until he stood in front of it and leaned back onto it, standing in front of me. I kept my eyes towards the ground, feeling the authority radiate off of him.
"I'm sorry, sir. I-" I was going to say that I would accept the grade, but I didn't want to. My reputation depended on this grade.
