Claire & the Professor

I am a college professor, 45 years old, teaching in an English Department at a large public university in the Midwest, and until recently, interactions with my female students had no element of impropriety to them at all. Tenured jobs do not come along every day, and as there is simply too much risk of things going wrong, I had kept my personal and professional lives very separate. That sentiment was severely tested when I received the following email:

Dear Professor:

I was a student in your gender and media class last semester (I recently graduated), and several of your lectures really made a powerful impression on me. In fact, I can't stop thinking about some of things you talked about. I hope I am not being inappropriate, but one class in particular makes me wet whenever I think about it. It was the one where you talked about the reciprocal nature of the gaze, and of how sometimes the power can go in both directions. Most of the time when I'm out in public I feel very much as if I am the object of the male gaze, that I have no control of the context within which I'm being looked at and therefore do not feel like an equal participant in the process at all. But at the same time, I have long desired wanting to be looked at, to invite the gaze of a man, to control the arousal of someone else, but with no possibility of danger or violation. I guess I'm an exhibitionist who wants to tease, not in a mean way but definitely in a safe way. I hope you understand me.

I remember you mentioning that strip-tease artists sometimes talk about controlling a room, knowing that there is a barrier between them and the men in the audience -- that the power is not all one way as some feminist theorists suggest, that it depends on context. I have thought about possibly working as a stripper, but the clubs are so seedy and male-centered (and to be honest, frequented by losers) that it isn't very attractive to me. I want to give up my body to be looked at, but in a context where I can control things, where I feel respected by someone I trust.

Unfortunately, this hasn't happened to me so far. Sometimes my partner will look at me with desire, but then he/she will want to touch me and use me for their own needs. I don't mind this too much, and I do get pleasure from it, but I wish I could have an experience where I'm totally in control of the interaction, where I can display and expose myself as I feel, without having to worry about eliciting a reaction that I can't control. I have never been able to articulate this to anyone before, but I feel as if you have a really good understanding of the importance of safety and trust as a precondition for a woman to be able to fully express her sexuality.

As I am no longer your student, I was wondering if you would agree to be the person that I could explore this desire with? I observed you very carefully last semester and feel as though you understand what I am asking for and wouldn't violate any understanding we may have. All I ask is that you do nothing other than watch me when I come to your office one evening and show myself - all of myself - to you.

I realize you do not know who I am, or even what I look like, and I don't want to place you in any kind of uncomfortable situation. So, I will come to your class tomorrow and sit off the side near the front wearing a short flowery summer dress. You will be able to see what I look like. At the end of the lecture, I'll ask a simple question about your favorite color. If you would like to be my partner in this endeavor, just answer with the color of my panties - I'll make sure you know the answer by the end of the class!! If you say that you do not have a favorite color, I'll presume you do not want to be a part of anything I'm proposing, and I'll cease any further communication.

In anticipation of an affirmative response,

Your grateful ex-student, Claire."

My heart was beating fast, and my cock was well on the way to hardness by the end of the message. Could this really be happening? The name Claire was not familiar, but then I taught hundreds of students every semester. I had read stories about professor/student liaisons and had thought that they were just the result of the fertile imaginations of frustrated middle-aged men. Perhaps I was wrong!

The next day, my eyes quickly scanned the lecture room as I entered and immediately recognized a woman from the previous semester. She was very attractive in the simple understated way that women in their early twenties can be. Blonde curly hair down to her shoulders, pale, almost alabaster skin, lips subtly highlighted with a pink lipstick, wearing a stylish pair of wire- rimmed spectacles. It was just after Spring Break, and so the summer dress did not seem out of place. Her modest breasts were nicely framed by a low-cut neckline (with just a hint of cleavage) and her bare legs crossed at the knees.

Memories of her seemingly hanging on my every word the previous semester came back to me, but being a large lecture class, there was little opportunity for interaction, and she did not make any attempt to initiate conversation. Now, sitting a little to the side - she must have researched the perfect spot - there was only one possible place for my eyes to be drawn!

As the class started, she leant forward, uncrossed her legs. and in the same motion, subtly pulled her dress back for a few seconds. Her yellow panties were as clear as day, but only to me. She did this a few times during the lecture, each time eliciting a hesitation from me in mid-sentence. A smug smirk never left her face.

As the class finished and people were filing out, she approached me, saying she was writing a report for another class on my work and would like to gather some eclectic data that might add some spice. Could she ask what my favorite color was? I answered "yellow" without hesitation, drawing a satisfied smile from her. My eyes lingered on her rounded bottom and toned legs as she walked away.

Immediately after I got back to my office, I had an email from Claire.

"I will be at your office at 7pm tomorrow evening. You do not have to do or say anything. Just watch me."

A soft knock came at exactly 7pm. Claire entered, a little sheepishly (and perhaps nervously), closed the door behind her, and stood before me, shuffling uneasily. I was sitting in my office chair, beside the desk. Although I was trying to give an impression of calm, my heart was beating so hard I thought she must have been able to hear it.

Now able to look at her properly, my cock hardened instantly. She was about 5'7 and her dress (the same one from the day before) came to mid-thigh. She wore three-inch strappy sandals that drew even more attention to her shapely legs. Her face displayed a smiling but excited nervousness. There were no spectacles today. Despite the confidence expressed in her written messages, she was clearly not that experienced at this. But I also knew my role was to be as passive a witness as I could be to her fantasy.

Smiling shyly, she turned slowly, until she faced away from me, and just held her position. My eyes took in the delicious view of her entire backside. Holding the hem of her dress with delicate fingers, she raised it up her legs and over her ass and gathered it at her waist, revealing the (familiar) yellow panties. She must have heard my breath go out of me.

After a short wait, the dress continued up her body and over her shoulders and head. Bending at the waist, she placed it carefully on the floor in front of her, the panties stretching over her beautiful bottom as she moved. She stood back up, reveling it seemed, in her power. Her bra was also yellow, although all I saw were the straps from the back.

Turning, she faced me again, hands on tilted hips, now smiling confidently, not nervously. Her body was curvy enough to be pushing nicely against her bra and panties. Nubile is not a word I often use, but it certainly applied in this instance.

Reaching up she unsnapped the front-closing bra, the cups falling away to the side. Her beautifully shapely breasts, nipples already erect, gradually pushed their way out. Shrugging the bra off her shoulders and looking me directly in the eyes, Claire clasped her hands behind her, thrusting her tits subtly forward. There was no doubt who was in charge of this interaction.

She eased the panties them down her hips, wriggling teasingly, making no attempt to remove them as they dropped to her feet. Draped over sandals at the ankles, the panties drew attention to her nakedness in a way that was devastating. Her pussy was barely visible through the thin but carefully tended pubic hair.

She went back to watching me. Under normal circumstances, my own hand would have been on my cock, masturbating furiously. But this was not normal, and I willed myself to remain still, although my erection was obvious through my loose-fitting slacks.

Having lost track of time, I don't know how long it was (seconds, minutes?) before she bent forward, breasts hanging down, stepping out of the panties. Taking the few steps to me, she held the panties out for me to take. I didn't know what to do but gratefully accepted them, bringing them to my face to smell. This was my first conscious independent act, and I didn't know how she would respond. I needn't have worried. She smiled before turning, ass swaying tantalizingly, and took a few steps away, carefully knelt, looked over her shoulder at me and then dropped to all fours.

Even though her legs were together, her beautiful pussy peaked out from within them. And as her cheeks parted naturally, her asshole became tantalizingly visible. The sight was stunning in its simple eroticism- a round firm ass swaying side-to-side, alluring rosebud, glistening pussy beneath! In its totality, it was one of the most pleasingly aesthetic/erotic things I had even seen in my life! There was silence in the room - my breath barely registering.

Subtly swaying her ass from side to side, she remained in this exquisite position for a minute or so. Then turning over on her back, bringing hands to her legs, she spread them wide, knees moving towards her chest, glistening pussy opening deliciously. Her eyes never left mine as she displayed all there was to reveal. I could see the wetness on her pussy and the hardness of her nipples.

Bringing her legs down she climbed to her feet and moved to stand just a foot away from me. My eyes were level with her breasts, and I could smell her arousal. She bought her fingers to her nipples and gently rubbed them until they stood out even more. Slowly she turned around so that I could see the pores on every part of her skin, especially her magnificent ass. She was not one of these pencil-thin women that spend hours in the gym, and her body looked soft and supple, her hips curvy and incredibly alluring as they spread from her slim waist. Looking over her shoulder at me, smiling, it took all my will power to not reach out and touch her. But I knew what the deal was.

Then suddenly, it was finished. Stepping away from me, she picked up her bra and put it on, snapping it together at the front, her eyes fixed on me. Retrieving her dress from the floor, she pulled it over her head. Moving to the door, she paused with one hand on the doorknob, and the other lifting her dress, giving me one last look at her dripping cunt. Mouthing "thank you," she closed the door behind her.

I looked down at the yellow panties still clutched in my hand. As I bought them to my face, my cock throbbed painfully. The whole episode only lasted about 10 minutes, but I knew the memories would forever be etched in my sexual imagination.

Thirty minutes later, I had an email from her.

"Dear Professor,

Thank you for helping me live out my fantasy. It was everything I thought it would be! I was so aroused and so wet. Not touching you, or allowing you to touch me, made the sensation even greater. I would love to do it again in a much longer session now that know I can trust you! Perhaps next time, YOU can give me instructions on what I should be doing?"

When should I drop by to retrieve my panties?

In moist longing, Claire

I now knew that Claire desired two things - the safety that control brings, and a sexual thrill elicited by giving up that very control. She may not have known the latter before the office encounter, but her message made that clear. Moreover, she wanted the two things in the same experience - a dialectic of submission and control as it were. I decided to be very direct in my reply. My hands were trembling as I typed.

"Dear Claire:

I also very much enjoyed your visit to my office hours. As per your suggestion, here are my instructions for how you may retrieve your panties.

Arrange your schedule so you can attend my class on Friday afternoon in the new MBC Building, room W-213. Your attire - in its totality - will consist of the following: thigh-high hold-up stockings, panties, the same sandals you wore today, and an overcoat. I repeat, that is ALL you are to wear.

The room has tiered seating. Take a chair directly in front of me, at my eye level. Within the first ten minutes you will make sure that I am aware of the color of your panties. During the first video clip, when the room will be darkened, you will lower your panties to your ankles and leave them there. During the next clip you will remove them altogether, and for the rest of the class you will sit with your legs, and your luscious pussy, open to my view.

At the end, once everyone has left the room, come down to the front, hand me your panties, undo the buttons of your coat and hold it open so I can confirm that you have followed instructions. When I indicate, you may button-up, turn around, and raise the back so I can see your naked bottom. On my signal, you may lower your coat and proceed before me to my office. My eyes will not leave you the entire time. Once at my office, wait outside until I call you in.

If you agree to follow these instructions, a two-word reply will suffice.

Your Professor."

Within five minutes my email gave me the reply I had requested. The words "yes sir" took my breath away and quickened my heart in the same moment.

I had chosen the Friday class because very few people actually come on that day (normally less than 20 out of 100), and those that do, typically don't occupy the front rows. They also evacuate the room quickly at the end, eager to get their weekend going. I knew that if I wanted Claire to play in public, it had to be relatively safe to do so, at least at the start.

I got to the room 10 minutes early, as I always do, setting up my computer as students slowly started to wander in. A few minutes before the class start time, Claire arrived. She wore a light tan rain jacket that came down to her knees and drew no attention whatsoever to herself as she made her way to the second row from the front to a seat in the center, directly at my eye level. The other students' attention was elsewhere as I mouthed "good girl" to her. She smiled shyly in response. Her positioning was perfect, as everyone else was behind her, and only I had an unobstructed view of her crossed legs, covered in black fishnets.

As I got started on a routine lecture, Claire hiked the hem of her coat to her lap and casually uncrossed and spread her legs. I saw clearly that her panties were white. The contrast with the black fishnets was striking. She continued flashing me a few seconds at a time until she was sure that I had the answer I needed.

One of the things I have learned after nearly two decades of teaching is that you continually have to break things up, so I normally show a couple of relevant video clips that involves dimming the lights. As I played the first clip, I deliberately turned away from Claire, confident that she would follow orders. I was not disappointed. As the lights came back on, Claire's legs were together with the white panties draped around her ankles. It was a stunning visual spectacle. Knowing she was sitting there naked below the waist distracted me from my normal lecture delivery, and I stumbled a few times as I lost my train of thought. She sensed exactly what was happening, and her shy smile turned into a knowing smirk, knowing the reaction she was eliciting.

I rushed to get to the next clip, anticipating what awaited me. The lights revealed her spread legs and the lips of her pussy peeking through her sparse pubic hair. The sight was breathtaking! I had never experienced anything like it in a classroom before. Barely taking my eyes off her crotch, I rushed through the rest of the lecture, dismissing the class early. There were no complaints as students streamed out, leaving just Claire and me in the room.

Looking around to make sure we were alone, she made her way down to the front, unbuttoning the coat. By the time she reached me it was hanging loosely and I could clearly see her pussy and the middle of her chest from the neck down. Handing me the white panties, she held the coat open to show me that, apart from the stockings and sandals, she was naked beneath the outerwear, nipples already erect on her beautiful tits.

She stood in front of me, legs slightly apart, confident expression on her face, looking directly into my eyes, lost in my gaze of her. My cock had been tumescent since she walked into the room and now it turned into a full erection, pushing out from my loose slacks. The only time her eyes left mine was to look at my crotch to confirm who was really in charge here.

I looked at her for a couple of minutes, each second etched into my memory, until I finally nodded. Turning her back to me, and improvising on my instructions, she shrugged the coat off until it lay at her feet, exposing her entire backside to me. The sight of her perfectly formed ass gently giving way to the slimness of her torso sent a thud to my stomach, and a bolt of pure lust to my head. If it was possible, the seam that ran down the back of her stockings framed her legs and ass in a way that made the entire picture even more erotic. The fact that she was doing this in a public place - the doors to the lecture room were not locked and anyone peeking in would have seen her standing there nude - told me that Claire was adding the danger of possible discovery (however slight) to her desire for this heady mixture of control and submission.

Thirty seconds elapsed before she bent at the waist, her pussy and asshole peeking out between her legs, retrieved the coat from the floor and buttoned up. Without turning back to me, she walked up the stairs and out of the room. I followed behind, reveling in the sight of her swaying hips, as well as the knowledge of where we were headed.

My office was on the second floor of the neighboring building, and as I went in, she took a seat, as instructed, on the bench outside. I prepared the next part of our adventure by moving my guest chair, a wooden one with arms, to the middle of the room. I leant back against the front of my desk, announcing that she should enter and close the door behind her. As she wanted me to be in charge this time, I was much more verbal than our last meeting.

"Let me have the coat."

Without hesitation she unbuttoned her coat and handed it to me, leaving her standing in front of me in just the stockings and sandals. Indicating the chair, I said,

"Sit and drape your legs over the arms so they are spread wide."

This time there was hesitation, but she still moved and did as I ordered. As her knees went over the arms of the chair it had the effect of pulling the lips of her pussy slight apart so I could see the wetness on them.