I
I was sitting at my desk trying to decide the right wording to use for an assignment for one of my classes when I looked up to see Annette come in to my room, her smile wide, with full lips framing her teeth. Her short blonde hair looked uncombed, but that added to her overall beauty.
"You're having a good day, I see." I stood up as she approached me.
"It's always a good day when I see you, Mr. Dexter."
She came up to me and gave me a strong hug. She always hugged me whenever she greeted me. I had always hoped there would be more than just a hug, however.
Her brother Art and I have been having a regular sexual relationship for several weeks, and I was hoping I would have the same opportunity with her, but something always prevented that from happening.
"Do you have my recommendation ready? I'll need to get it in the mail tomorrow with my graduate school application."
As I reached into my briefcase to get her recommendation, I noticed she was taking a sheaf of papers out of her book bag.
"What're those?" I asked.
"The applications require some essay assignments on my goals; it's about as bad as the undergraduate application essays I had to write when I was in high school. I have no idea how to start, so I'm hoping you can help."
"Like giving you ideas?"
"Well, yeah."
"Or like writing it for you?"
I chuckled at my own lame humor so she wouldn't misunderstand me.
"Oh, god, if you could, I'd kiss you."
On that last thought she blushed, but my thoughts were not on the lips under her nose but the lips below her navel.
She snapped me out of my perverted reverie when she said, "I'm sorry. I spoke on impulse."
"No need to apologize. I speak on impulse often, and you can probably remember every time in class and out of class I did it."
"Yeah, but you're funny when you speak on impulse," she replied.
"Yours was charming, the kind that someone could easily fall in love with," I responded.
She blushed again, and then began to lay her papers in neat stacks on a couple of student desks.
I was standing in front of her, and as she leaned over, I could see down into her blouse. I took the opportunity to fill my eyes with the beauty of her well-formed young breasts not quite filling out her oversized bra cups. The freckles on her upper chest added to their exquisite beauty.
I also noticed that her small nipples were hard.
All too soon she stood up straight, and we got down to business discussing the relative merits of the various topics. We talked about which essay topic would work best, and I told her to come by tomorrow afternoon so we could polish it up.
After she got her papers together and started out of the door, she turned and gave me a hug.
Then she kissed me on the lips. Even though it was closed-mouth kiss, it was still a kiss on the lips from a beautiful young woman.
My fantasies went into overtime. I knew I would be lovingly masturbating my cock several times this evening. I was already hard.
II
It had been a long day. I was tired, and all I could think about was a nap. I put my feet up on my desk and leaned back in my chair. I loved that high back on my chair--just right for that mid-afternoon nap
"Mr. Dexter?"
"Huh?"
"It's me . . . Annette. You asked me to bring my essay to you this afternoon."
I was suddenly aware that I had been sleeping. And not only that, I had a piss hard-on. I could see the obvious tent in my trousers, and I'm sure she could also.
I removed my feet from my desk and tried to sit up with as much propriety as I could. But with someone as beautiful as Annette, it would be difficult to do. I had this overwhelming urge to pull my pecker out and beat it into a frenzy and pump my jism all over her face.
But propriety prevailed.
We went over her essay together, correcting problems, getting meanings correct, and setting the proper layout—with a tumescent penis in my trousers trying to escape. We were almost finished.
"Annette, I have to use the restroom. I'll be right back."
"I might as well go, too." Fortunately for me, she left the room before I got out of my chair, which solved the problem of the protuberance sticking out of my trousers.
In the restroom, I had to drop my trousers and my briefs all the way down. I wouldn't be able to piss by merely opening my zipper and pulling my cock out.
My erection was stiffer than usual. I wanted to beat off and then pee, but I figured I had better get back.
I was finally able to let fly my build-up of urine. It was an incredible relief. My ardor abated, and I returned to my classroom.
I had no sooner sat down at my desk when Annette returned. She seemed as relieved as I was, and she sat down next to me.
"Mr. Dexter, may I ask you a question? It's kinda personal, but you're the only person I know who would give me a straight answer. I don't dare ask my parents, especially my dad."
I looked at her blankly.
"Okay. I'm listening."
"Last weekend I gave my boyfriend a blow job. And I swallowed."
I tried as best I could to maintain my composure, although if I had held my pen any tighter, it would've snapped in two.
"And? . . ." I was looking at her eyes, which she had turned down, away from me; then she looked back at me.
"I asked him to do the same thing to me, but he refused. He said girls stink down there. You would know about these things because you're older. Personally, I like the smell of me from down there."
"First of all he's a jerk. You don't need a boyfriend like that. Second of all, you should have refused to do him until he had done you. When a boy is horny, he'll do anything sexual; he'll even eat your asshole. If he's horny enough, he'll even drink your pee. However, once a boy comes, his ardor decreases--in short, he's no longer horny."
"But do we stink down there to boys?"
"Good grief, no. I'll even prove it to you."
"Prove it? How?" She gave me a blank look with those questions.
