Although some small details have been changed, this is a true story. I would really like to hear other similar stories from the female student's perspective and fantasies from these students. By the way, I'm convinced that my attitude is similar to those of most male professors.
I'd been a professor for about 8 years, teaching political science in a small college town in the South. During that time period, I went through the tenure process, published, and taught a variety of courses, predominately to undergraduate students. My colleagues and I agreed that one of the perks of the job was the new female talent in each and every class. I always made a mental list on test days, ranking the girls from hottest all the way to down to barely fuckable. Yes, it was juvenile, but to this day I still compile that ranking on exam day.
My wife would sometimes get jealous when reading the comments on ratemyprofessor.com and other student evaluations. Many of the comments mentioned that I was 'hot' or a 'fox.' I'm really kind of an average looking guy: average height, slender build, with dark hair that has started to gray at the temples. There is just something about the stereotypical professor that attracts impressionable, college females, I suppose. You hold them captive in a windowless room for months, leading discussions over topics in which you are a complete expert. No question can stump you. You rule the classroom and this power is noticed by these young women.
Eventually my wife and I drifted apart. Although she put on a bit of weight in her early thirties, I still found her attractive. Our sex life was good, we got along well in most ways, but simply fell out of love. With no children, divorce was an easy out. But even now I can still picture many lingering details about her body, although we've been divorced for several years. I can still picture her getting dressed every morning; standing naked in front of me, her chatting about the details of the upcoming day while rubbing lotion over her body. I still remember the look and feel of her body. It is funny the little details about a person that stick with you. She has one of those really meaty pussies, for lack of a better description. Although somewhat self conscious about it, I especially enjoyed going down on her, exploring the many nooks and folds of her labia. She particularly enjoyed the slow and careful insertion of the tip of an index finger into her asshole right before she came from oral sex.
But these are stories for another day.
About three weeks after the divorce was finalized, I was still a bit 'down in the dumps'. My co-workers took notice and dragged me to a local watering hole. It's a small, loud place, with a mix of faculty, townies and some students. On that particular day the bar was packed; it was a Thursday, which for both many students and faculty had become the new Friday.
We found a small table in the corner of the room and one of my coworkers grabbed a pitcher of beer and some glasses from the bartender. We attempted to make conversation over the din of the bar, but it was almost impossible.
"I think that girl is staring at you, Scott," one of my colleagues practically shouted to me in order to be heard over the noise.
I turned and focused on the girl, and immediately met her gaze. She abruptly looked down, and I knew that she HAD been looking at me. I tried to remember where I had seen her. It must have been an intro to Poli Sci class, the past Fall term, I thought to myself. Kendra, Kelsie, Kassidy? What was her name?
"Yeah, former student, I think. Nice bar choice, Jim," I replied sarcastically to my coworker. None of us really liked to mingle with students, even if we had no problem discreetly eyeballing them in class.
As the minutes passed, we drank beer, and did what most faculty do when in groups of two or more: complained about our students. I could feel the beer buzz and eventually the need to use the restroom. And on my way back to the table, there was Kendra/Kelsie/Kassidy blocking my way.
"Dr. Smith...I thought that was you. I'm Kailee, I was in your Intro to Poli Sci class last Spring. I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed it. It's my favorite class so far in college!"
"Of course, Kailee, I thought that was you," I replied. Kailee, of course, I thought to myself. She had been a good, enthusiastic student, always sitting in the front row.
"Well, I'll let you get back to your friends," and with that she returned to her table, where three girls and two frat boys were sitting.
I returned to my table, and scrutinized Kailee's table while pretending to listen to my coworkers. She was a very pretty girl, always at the top of my 'rankings.' Kailee was probably 5'6", maybe 115 pounds with long legs and a thin figure. Her long blonde hair was probably not natural, and her tan had likely been manufactured in a tanning bed. She had an unusual combination of smarts, and the typical undergraduate girl's obsession with meeting society's concept of beauty. On that night she was dressed in the uniform of a college girl in my part of the country: a tight tank top and very short khaki shorts, with flip flops.
As the night wore on, I watched everyone at her table become increasing inebriated. Eventually shots were ordered, and everything went downhill for Kailee and her four friends. They got louder and louder, and Kailee because increasing obnoxious, grabbing for her female friends' chests and slapping at their asses when they got up. Occasionally she would glance in my direction, but was careful not to stare.
Eventually, my colleagues and I decided to call it a night, perhaps around 11:30. We paid our tab and headed towards the door. I was somewhat drunk and a little preoccupied about the drive home. I was the last of my group to exit the bar, and felt a hand on my shoulder as I opened the door.
"Professor Smith.....Hey it's me Kailee."
"Hello again, Kailee."
"Look, I need a biiiiiiiig favor. I'm reaaaaaaaaaaally drunk and can't drive home. My friends are ditching me for those two guys, and I need to get home now...I'm reaaaaaally wasted."
"Well, Kailee I can call you a cab, or maybe the college's drunk driving shuttle service?"
"You don't understand, Dr. Smith. Those last two shots of Jaeger really got me. I gotta go now."
Although I was a bit worried about driving myself, I eventually acquiesced and led Kailee to my car in the parking lot. She was quiet most of the way to her apartment, only giving me an occasional driving direction. I can't lie, my mind was racing. Was this girl trying to take me home? Did she want to fuck? I had no idea, and no plan. I occasionally glanced at her, eyeballing her body, her legs, hips, waist, bust and face. By the time we arrived at her apartment, she had almost passed out and I had to lead her to her apartment door, with her arm draped over my neck and shoulder.
"Do you have a roommate that is around that can help you?"
"Nah, I don't think she's home yet. Come on in, grab a beer." She seemed to perk up. Perhaps she wasn't as drunk as she had led on.
This was the point of no return; what kind of a person follows a clearly inebriated girl, almost twenty years his junior, into her apartment late at night? I guess I am that type of person.
We chatted for a while on her couch, me nursing a cheap beer from her fridge; she had a glass of what looked like chardonnay. Finally she stood up, stretched her arms and looked me straight in the eyes.
