I was running late to my meeting with my English professor. He had told me he'd really liked my last short story- which happened to be about my first time- and wanted to discuss it further with me. The assignment had been to write about something personal and something sexual, a confession of sorts. And so, I wrote about my first time with George, the kid who lived next door. As can be expected, it left much to be desired. I had fooled around since then, but had never been as fulfilled as some of my friends had claimed to be.
I was running late, which was not unusual for me, because I couldn't decide on what to wear. See, I had a bit of a crush on him. He was in his late 30s and had gorgeous brown hair and green eyes that you could get lost in. He was divorced, and it was a popular rumor his wife had cheated on him. Since then, he'd been single. Of course, we students didn't know the ins and outs of his personal life, but we all assumed it had been a long time since he'd been laid judging from the harsh grades we constantly received.
When I finally arrived, he was standing impatiently behind the podium, leaning into it in a non-intentionally seductive way. I couldn't help but think he looked adorable. He, however, was not as pleased with me.
"You are fifteen minutes late."
"I know. I'm really sorry Prof-"
"Let's begin. I have somewhere else in about twenty minutes. I wanted to tell you that I was really impressed by your paper. However, I think that you have some work to do to improve your overall performance."
At this point, I was ready to turn back around and go back to sleep. He had given me an "A" on the assignment. What more did I possibly have to do?
"Tell me about this George. Do you still see him?"
This question really caught me off guard. I was expecting him to lecture me on the importance of prepositions or word choice. Here he was asking me about my goofy and disastrous first time.
"Um. I guess I see him sometimes when I go home on break but we rarely talk. It was awkward after..."
I bit my lip. George was not a favorite topic of mine and it was utterly mine blowing and disturbing to be having this conversation with my hot professor.
"Tell me, have you had a lot more experience after to improve your attitude towards sex? In your paper you call it 'frivolous'."
Now the conversation was taking an even more bizarre turn.
"I've had more experience but I wouldn't say a lot more. I do think it's frivolous, though."
He smirked a little and, to my surprise, scanned my body with his lingering eyes. His bold move made me uncomfortable but, at the same time, enthralled me.
"My dear, that just means you haven't had a good experience. Sex is anything but frivolous, though. I assure you of that."
We stood in silence for a few minutes, examining each other. I was about to thank him for his criticism and leave when all of a sudden his arms were around me, pulling my body into his.
"I know this is wrong but I can't stand it anymore. Say no and I'll try to stop. I will stop. But say yes and I will show you just how great it can be."
There I was, wetter than I've ever been in my entire life, in the arms of the professor I'd fantasized about from morning til night. There was no question in my mind I wanted to go through with this. I didn't care about the consequences, I didn't care about the fact we didn't have a condom, and I really didn't care that he was my professor.
I said nothing but I leant into his hard dick with my butt, making him groan with pleasure.
"Jesus," he muttered into my ear.
