History Lessons

Being a college student, I've heard the stereotypical stories about girls who sleep with professors for a grade. But I don't actually know of anyone who's really done it, nor has the thought ever occurred to me. Well, perhaps I should amend the latter part of that statement-there's cut-throat competition at my college where almost everyone is an overachiever, and it's never occurred to me to trade a blow job for an Ivy degree. But it would be untrue to say that my mind has not wandered onto non-academic concerns during lectures once in a while...

Thursday evening found me in the library café, with what must have been the millionth cup of coffee I'd consumed that day. Since most of us upperclassmen don't have Friday classes, I would have normally been out with my friends, having a few drinks to celebrate the end of the week. But tonight, I was struggling to focus my attention on a depressingly thick stack of readings. My own damn fault for electing to write a thesis this year, I thought to myself.

At least they kept the place nicely heated, and so even as the winter winds rattled against the high-arched windows, I shed my jacket, sweater, and long-sleeved tee, leaving just a tight little tank top on as I settled cross-legged into the armchair, and pulled the first of the books over to me.

Anti-Machu sentiment...delayed troop movements...National Assembly declarations...

I must have drifted off the sleep, because the next thing that registered was a tap on my shoulder. I started, and the book slid off my lap as I looked up for the source of the disturbance. Oh no. Of all people, it had to be my seminar professor who caught me napping.

"Er, hi Professor Jameson," I offered sheepishly.

He didn't reply, but bent down to retrieve the book I had dropped. Peering at the cover, he said, "I don't find this particular interpretation of China's 1911 Revolution to be all that fascinating myself, but still I wouldn't expect you to fall asleep over it."

At a little over 6' (my estimate), he towered over my petite frame as I sat curled up in the armchair. Unsure of whether he was chastising me, I was about to mumble some excuse about being tired when he continued, "So you're here on a Thursday night, and it's just the start of semester, which means you work far too hard. I should reward you for such diligence-can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

Still disoriented from having fallen asleep only to be awakened by a professor, I was now distracted by his physical proximity, and found myself staring into his hazel eyes. "Umm-I... The only thing that would help me these days is if I had an IV drip of expresso," was the feeble joke I finally came up with.

Professor Jameson smiled, "Well I can't help you there, but I think that--" but before he could finish his statement, one of his colleagues, a visiting scholar I'd seen around the department, came up to him. "Well I must get going. See you in class Monday." Professor Jameson handed the book back to me, and turned and left.

I was left with my no less diminished stack of books, wondering whether the light brush of his fingers across my hand as he handed back the book was accidental...

* * *

As usual, the weekend passed far too quickly. I groaned as I reached to hit the snooze on the alarm clock. God, Mondays. Dragging myself out of bed, I pulled on my robe and headed for the shower. With the hot water running over my body, I closed my eyes and breathed in the steam, thinking about the day ahead.

Monday meant seminar with Professor Jameson... the one class I always looked forward to. He was a good professor, energetic and passionate about his work, and quite young as tenured professors go-in his mid- or late-thirties. This was the second class I'd taken with him, and I guess he noticed that I worked especially hard in his class, because he singled me out with challenging questions in class, and always had a smile and a few words for me whenever I bumped into him on campus.

I pictured him, his tall frame with a hint of muscularity under the jacket and tie he always wore, his brown hair that looked so soft... what would it feel like, I wondered, to run my hands through it? And his touch, warm and light as he brushed my hand back in the library... Putting down the soap, I ran my fingers across my body, caressing my breasts and pinching my nipples to make them hard. I wondered what it would feel like, his hands on my body... I'm petite, at 5'5'' 110... would he like the feel of my tight young body pressed against his tall frame? Moving my hand down between my legs, I slowly slipped a finger in my pussy... I thought about his lips pressed against mine... his fingers wrapped in my dark, silky hair as he kissed me... daydreaming, I fingered myself faster and harder until I climaxed, gasping and leaning against the shower wall.

When I'd finally gotten out of the shower and dried my hair, I only had five minutes to dress and run to class. Opening my closet, my glance settled on my pleated plaid skirt, the one I only wore when I felt like being provocative, as it was a bit of the obscenely short variety... Oh well, why the hell not? I thought to myself. I put on the skirt, with just a thong underneath, and a preppy polo shirt, and slipped on my shoes, grabbed my bookbag and jacket and ran out the door.

I arrived in class a little late, but thankfully Professor Jameson was only going over announcements about the paper requirements. Slipping into my normal seat in the front row, I shrugged off my jacket and pulled out a notebook and pen.

As he launched into his lecture, I scribbled away furiously, drawn in by his always-brilliant historical analysis. Turning a page, I accidentally dropped my pen, and uncrossed my legs to bend down and retrieve it. At that moment, Professor Jameson stuttered and stopped his lecture mid-sentence--

Looking up, I noticed that he looked a little flushed, but he glanced down at his notes and picked back up in the lecture.

"Hmmm, I wonder what that was all about" I thought to myself... I slipped down in my seat a little, and spread my legs just enough that from the front of the room, he could catch a glimpse... His eyes, moving across the room as he spoke, settled on me and he stammered again. Sucking on the tip of my pen, I stared right back at him...

For the rest of the class, I noticed that Professor Jameson, normally dynamic and moving around the class during lecture, stayed put behind the podium.

I didn't take very good notes the rest of class. When the clock hands pointed 11 o'clock, the rest of the class pulled on jackets and backpacks and headed out the door. I lingered, deliberately taking my time putting my notebook up, thankful that nobody had stayed after to ask questions.

"Um, Professor Jameson-I have some concerns about this class...can I talk to you?"

Professor Jameson frowned slightly, but the expression in his eyes was more hesitant than irritated. "Sure-I have no appointments today, why don't you come with me, I'm headed to my office," he replied.

Walking the three flights up to his office, we exchanged the usual pleasantries, with him asking how my other classes were going, and what my post-graduation plans were. I noticed that his glance kept on drifting down and sideways-I've been told by guys that I have nice legs and a cute ass, so I took that as a good sign. When we got to his office, he unlocked the door and entered it first, and I shut the door behind me-something I would normally never do, but he didn't say anything about it.

Professor Jameson gestured for me to take the seat across from his desk. He sat down and began, "You got the only A in my class last semester, and you're doing well so far this semester. What is it that you are concerned about?"

I took a deep breath, and said, "Oh well I'm not here about my grade exactly. I was actually wondering if you needed a research assistant, because I really like your classes and find your area of research to be fascinating and if you needed someone to help--" I knew I was speaking fast, but my heart was pounding, and I could feel myself getting wet, just thinking about how much I wanted him.

"Well, normally I don't take on undergraduates as assistants, but in your case I think the department might be able to offer you a position." Professor Jameson said, smiling slightly. He pulled a thick manuscript from the pile of papers strewn across his desk. "Why don't you look over some of what I've been working on thus far, and you can tell me if you're still interested."

I walked around to his side of the desk, and leaned close to him, perusing the document. I was close enough now that I could vaguely sense his cologne... and just as I was wondering what to say, Professor Jameson placed his hand softly on my arm. I looked over at him, and he was biting his lip, watching me a bit warily for my reaction. He said quietly "Look, about what you were doing in class today...I've had students offer themselves to me, in exchange for a passing grade. I've always turned them down-I place high value on the ideals of education. My colleagues and I think you're one of the brightest we've seen in a while, so I hope you don't feel like you need to do this, for a recommendation letter or a job or anything..."

I shook my head. "No, it's not that at all. I just...I just think you're really attractive..." I stared down at the desk, unsure of how to continue. But Professor Jameson took my hand, and pulled me into his lap. I was dizzy with my desire and confused, but he answered my doubts by pressing his lips to mine-at first softly, then more insistently, as I returned his kiss hungrily.

"I've never done... We shouldn't be..." Professor Jameson whispered, but his actions betrayed his desire, as his hands slipped under my shirt, and finding that I hadn't worn a bra, he groaned softly as he cupped my breasts in his hands. Soon he had my shirt off and on his desk, and was kissing my breasts and biting at my nipples. Overtaken by my own desire, I grinded my pussy into his crotch, feeling his heat and hardness.

After teasing each other for a few minutes, I pushed his chair away from the desk so I could drop down on my knees, unzipping his slacks and releasing his hard cock from the confines of his boxers. I couldn't believe what I was doing, but with his hard pole just inches away from my mouth, the ethics of higher education was not the first thing on my mind. Licking the tip of his cock to taste the precum leaking out, I heard him moan and looked up. His eyes were fixed on me, his chest heaving slightly with his need. "Suck me-" he begged hoarsely. I needed no more encouragement, and slid the entire length of his shaft into my mouth. Bobbing my head up and down, swirling my tongue around, I savored the taste and feel of my professor's cock.

I could feel his legs tensing as he placed his hand on the back of my head. "You've got to stop," he groaned "Stop-I want to fuck you. Sit on the desk."

I planted myself at the edge of the desk, and he pushed up my skirt, tore off my thong panties, and I watched, as if in a dream, as he let them fall to the floor next to a stack of books. Still sitting, he placed his hands on my legs, spreading them apart, and started licking my pussy. His warm, wet tongue darted around, flicking over my most sensitive spot, making me gasp and moan. I lifted my hips up, entreating him to fuck me with his tongue, but he pulled away and stood up, positioning his cock at the entrance of my pussy. It was my turn to beg-"Please, fuck me...please..."

"Please who?" Professor Jameson smirked, enjoying my role as the slutty college student.

"Please, Professor...please fuck me!" I whimpered, trying to pull him onto me.

In one swift motion, he thrust his hard cock into my wet and waiting pussy. "Do you like that?" he growled, his eyes boring into mine.

"Yes, yes, please don't stop" I gasped.

"Is this what you do? Is this why my colleagues tell me you're such a good student? Do you fuck all the guys in the department?" Professor Jameson continued.

"No, yes, I don't know, whatever you want, please just fuck me, fuck me hard, please..." I whispered incoherently.

He answered my pleas with swift, hard thrusts, pinning me to the desk, his hand covering my mouth to prevent my moans from being heard. I couldn't believe how good his cock felt, hot and throbbing and filling my pussy so well...

After all the weeks of wanting him, it wasn't long before I was cumming, my juices dripping onto his desk, and my pussy clenching around his cock. At this, with one more insistent thrust, my professor filled me with a load of hot cum, throwing his head back in a silent scream.

Lightheaded and breathing hard, I sat back up on the desk and rested my head against him, as he held me close until our breathing returned to normal.

"God...that was incredible" he said to me. I pulled him close to kiss him, my body still quivering with pleasure.

A knock at the door brought us back to our senses. "Professor Jameson, you've got a call from Cambridge." I recognized the voice as that of Peter, the department secretary.

"I really need to get going--" I grinned guiltily at my professor.

I reached for a tissue to clean up his cum, threw it in the wastebasket, and grabbed my books and bag. Glancing back to make sure he had his clothes in order, I opened the door.

Trying to act natural, I said, "Thanks for going over that article with me, Professor Jameson. I'd better run or I'll be late for my class--"

He nodded, saying "No problem, see you Wednesday."

It was only until I was out of the building that I realized I'd left my panties lying on the floor underneath his desk...