Note to readers: the main character in this piece, Katie, is the same character from my Sorority Life story. But there is no need to read that story to enjoy this one, it is a completely different plotline.
* * * * *
Monday April 15th
The other day Charlene was talking about how bad she wanted to fuck her history of religion teaching assistant, "He could tutor me all night."
"And all day," added Erin
"And all next week," finished Charlene. Erin loves talking about fooling around with her professors, but she's never done it. Maybe it's because too many of them hit on her. I know from experience that it can be creepy. Some fifty-year-old balding egomaniac making a pass at you. One professor even offered to take me out to dinner, to discuss the class of course.
But whenever we joke about it, it manages to linger in my mind. Usually as some generic fantasy. An impossibly hot professor bending me over his desk, fucking me while giving me a pop quiz, spanking me if I get the wrong answers. Well, a generic fantasy until recently. Now that generic lover has an actual name to add to an actual dream body. Professor Jacobs, Victor Jacobs, just the name starts to make me wet.
Vic, as Erin and I like to refer to him, is in his first year as a professor. Erin took his course the previous semester. She used to come home and tell me how just listening to his lecture made her wet. That she had to fight the urge to satisfy herself in the middle of class. With that kind of endorsement how could I not take a peek for myself?
Vic certainly proved that he deserved all the hype. I've been so enthralled by his lectures that I easily aced the first midterm. All my professors should be this hot; I'd have a perfect GPA. Not surprisingly, his history of Rome class seems to be filled with an unusually high amount of women. I think everybody has a thing for him, how could you not? He's young, amazingly intelligent, and handsome, I mean gorgeous. A chiseled face, light brown hair, light green eyes, and a bright smile, which never fails to emerge, even from the intensity of his usually serious, deep thinker expression. He appears, under his buttoned down shirts, to have a decent body, tall with broad shoulders, and best of all big strong hands. Hands with only one imperfection, the wedding ring that adorns one of his fingers.
There is a rumor going around that he wears it to try and avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Like that would stop any of the horny women that eye him each day. A female professor, whom Erin is helping with a project, confirmed that he is actually married. The professor claims that she is just some plain looking young doctor. Erin thinks she wants to fuck him as well.
But unlike the rest who only talk and dream, I'm going have him for real, wife or no wife. Just thinking about his firm hands all over my body makes me want to...
Tuesday April 16th
I told Erin today about my plan, she doesn't think I have the guts to go through with it. Little does she know. I made sure he noticed me today. From the moment I walked into class, my ass swaying in a catholic schoolgirl skirt short enough to make even a priest run to confession. Strutting over to an empty seat in my platform shoes, I could feel the lust coming from every set of male eyes upon me, on my tanned and well-toned legs. I loved every second of it.
To make sure I didn't look like a total skank, I wore a concealing baggy sweatshirt around campus. It also gave me an opportunity to give the good professor another surprise during the middle of his lecture. He even stumbled over a couple of his sentences when about half way through lecture I removed my sweatshirt to reveal a skintight, low cut, white tank top underneath. My ever-trustworthy favorite black bra pushed my perky round breast up and almost out of the straining top. Seeing his face blush as he caught sight of me two rows back was priceless. Flustered he immediately looked down at his note cards, blankly staring at them as it took him a couple of seconds to regroup. Composed, he continued on with his lecture, but each time he stole a glance at me he would pause for an instant, slowly drawing out the word on his lips. I could hear the girls behind me muttering each time; my effect was so obvious
I didn't make it easy for him. While taking notes I made sure to lean as far over as possible, giving him the best angle at which to view my breast swelling out of their confinement. He couldn't look away for too long, I knew he was trying, but his eyes just wouldn't obey. And each time I caught him, I returned an unwavering gaze, asking a question he couldn't answer aloud. As the lecture progressed I started giving him a small, knowing smile each time our eyes met, which only made his face flush a deeper crimson. Then, towards the end of class, I started to boldly adjust my bra strap for no reason at all other than to draw more attention to my already prominently featured breasts. He was hooked.
He visibly rushed through the last part of lecture, ending five minutes earlier than normal. I took my time packing up my stuff, ignoring the leering eyes of the guys leaving class.
There is always a handful of girls, and one guy, who stay around after class to pester Professor Jacobs. The group is usually made up of the mousy plain looking types, who probably want Vic even more than I do. The problem for them being that not even on their best day could they pull of an outfit like the one I was wearing. So when I approached the professor they each gave me a jealous defensive sneer, but fell silent as Vic turned my way, calmly waiting to address my question. This show of coolness, whether it was just a front or for real, turned me on even more.
"Professor Jacobs," I started in a business like voice, I didn't want him to think I was just some bimbo, despite what I was wearing, "are you going to be in your office tomorrow? I was wondering if you could go over my paper outline," I could see the envy dripping from the faces of each of the other girls.
"After my one o'clock lecture tomorrow I should be in, although I'd advise you to wear something a little bit warmer, I keep my office pretty chilly," he condescendingly replied to me causing his fans to snicker.
Unfazed I answered back as I leaned over to write on a piece of scratch paper giving the professor an even better look at my assets, " Don't worry about me I stay warm pretty easily. What's the room number."
"1242," he answered back failing to add another snide remark.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," I flirtatiously added as I walked away.
Wednesday April 17th
Appearing to follow his advice I showed up the next day in his office with a pair of form fitting jeans and another baggy sweatshirt. From the way he looked at the sweatshirt I knew he was wondering what was underneath. And I was wondering what was underneath that bookish exterior. I had teased up my nipples before entering, but as I sat down calculating how I was going to get him out of those pants, I realized that I shouldn't have bothered warming myself up.
He quickly asked what problems I was having with the paper, skipping any small talk, almost rudely acting as if I were wasting his time. None of it bothered me. I had expected him to try and act this way, again adding a little spice to the situation, I'm not use to guys playing hard to get.
I handed him the beginning of my outline, and as he scanned it I took off my sweatshirt. The pale green shirt underneath was pasted on to my body. With no bra on, the outline of my perky round breasts were more than prominent, and still excited from my earlier preparation my nipples shot out at the professor. If he had ignored me in that shirt, I'd have been convinced that he was gay. I'd have made a blind man drool in that outfit.
Of course he was no different, when he looked up to make a comment I noticed his eyes simply freeze upon my chest. He remained frozen for a second before composing himself and glancing up at my face. I let him know I saw his stare, and that he was free to do more if he pleased, with an inviting smile.
Forgetting what ever unimportant comment he was about to make he paused for a moment to regroup, then looking confused and flustered he returned his gaze to my outline before him.
"Is there something wrong with the outline, Professor," I innocently asked.