I still pull out my notes from that semester quite often. The 'official' book, with my lecture notes, grade records, and sample papers from my best students, is appropriately filed away in my office at the college, ready for the next time I teach Physics 115. This book, identical in appearance on the outside but with quite different content within, stays at home, in the bedroom.
I started keeping the journal the very first week of that semester, using it as a way to find release without doing anything that would jeopardize my career. I had always prided myself on my ethics, my professionalism - well, let's just put it bluntly: my ability to keep my cock in my pants even when confronted with short-skirted hotties sitting in the front row of my lectures and all too eager to use their sex appeal to bargain for a better grade.
And Physics 115 - Physics for Arts Majors - was the worst of all. Unlike the sedate, serious crowds that filled my upper-level majors classes, this group was filled with music, art, and dance students, none of whom were very eager to actually learn in a science class. Their fear of failing my class inspired a sad parade of bribes and inappropriate offers. Fortunately for all involved, not to mention their educations, I never succumbed, instead using the pressure to find new, creative ways to get them interested in the material.
But that semester, I was confronted with Cassie and Chrissie. Yup, you guessed it, twins. And not just any twins. 5'8", long blonde hair, green eyes, beautiful tanned skin, perfect bodies from their long legs to their perky tits - C cup, I found myself musing on the very first day of class, before snapping myself out of it and beginning my lecture.
If it had just been their appearance, these two might not have gotten the best of me. But they were that deadly combination of hot, slightly high maintenance, overly confident for their naivete, and, let's face it, not the sharpest tools in the shed. It was like watching a train wreck - but with T&A I couldn't ignore.
They quickly decided I was someone to be flirted with. I was never sure if it was specifically because of their grades, because they truly needed a father-figure to talk with, or if it was just their habit to flirt to get their way. I knew I was the type who brought attention from the young women - handsome, fit, confident. Whatever the reason, they always arrived in class early, stayed late, and never missed my office hours.
But again, those pesky ethics of mine. I couldn't possibly take advantage of the situation. Nor could I share my experiences with anyone - my fellow faculty friends sure to judge. So I began keeping a journal of sorts, where I would record our encounters - what the girls were wearing, the bizarre conversations they'd start when working in my office, my fantasies about watching them both go down on me and then slowly fucking them, one by one, to orgasm.
I flipped through the book again now, each page increasing my arousal. I gently stroked my cock as I read again about the time they had come to my office hours to ask whether I liked the outfits they'd chosen for their modeling interview. See, they patiently explained to their ignorant physics professor, the industry likes twins. It was as good a shot as any, they thought, to pay their way through school. Oh, and yes, I did approve of the outfits.
Then there was the time, a few weeks later, that they arrived, uncharacteristically, in quite different outfits. Cassie was looking both professional and hot in slacks, a blouse, and fitted vest, her tits prominently on display. Chrissie, on the other hands, was in jeans and a university sweatshirt. When I inquired, innocently enough, as to why they weren't matching quite as well as usual, they giggled, explaining that they'd each had an interview that day, and decided to wear the same outfit. I felt myself blush as I imagined them quickly swapping clothes, the same tight-fitting outfit touching both twins' skin.
I couldn't resist, and asked them whether they'd also shared the same underwear. "Oh no," Chrissie replied, "Cassie always wears a thong, and I prefer bikinis - we never share underwear." Oh god, I thought, taking a deep breath and quickly sitting down behind my desk so they wouldn't see my growing erection.
As the semester wore on, two things became clear - our banter (still innocent, I kept telling myself) was getting more and more risque. And they were going to have to hope for a miracle to pass my class. It didn't seem to matter how many times I explained things, they just weren't getting it. Determined as they were, I just kept seeing more of them. More time spent in the lab; more requests for extra credit assignments; and more skin - this was, after all, spring semester, and the weather got hotter as the weeks passed.
