I guess you might say that I was one of the youngest student advisors and professors on campus. I teach "Journalism" at a university in northern California. It is a tough ladder to climb when you are a female. At age 30, I was among many seasoned and tenured professors that were just waiting for me to make a mistake, so I made sure I walked on the straight and narrow to keep that from happening. It was the beginning of the new semester and I was ready for anything.
I had three journalism classes daily, not to mention being a student advisor after classes. I also supervised the college newspaper. It was a hectic schedule but I did love my job.
I try to instill in my students the importance of accurate news gathering and writing, and remind them of the various branches of journalism that could be available to them if this is the career they wish to step into. Some take this class to improve their writing skills, and to help them with papers and essays needed in other classes all through college.
It was the first day of the semester and the first journalism class of the day, and I was excited to welcome new and enthusiastic students. I usually begin with statement of introduction.
"Good morning Class. I am Professor Barbara Cantrell. Welcome to the fascinating world of Journalism!"
My 9am class consists of 20 students, 15 of which are young men, and all seniors. I try to appear professional and dress in a manner indicative to a college professor, but still young enough to relate to students. I am usually wearing a dress, or skirt with heels. Looking neat and professional is half the battle in trying to obtain a job interview as well as getting hired. The way you dress can make you or break you as a journalist in the public eye, or for any job that a person interviews for.
At times I get so involved when teaching, and when stressing fine points to my students, the time seems to fly by. Just prior to class being dismissed, I am usually sitting atop my desk facing the class with my legs crossed. This particular day I could not help but notice a front row student Rich. He seemed extremely attentive. By the look in his eyes, and apparent thirst for learning, I imagined him to be at the top of his class very soon. The more I spoke, the more interested he seemed to be.
Starting at 3pm, I am usually found in my office grading papers or being available as a student advisor to those who feel they need extra help improving their grades, or listening to their concerns, which can vary from school to personal life.
One day while in my office, Rich knocked on my door. He had a few questions regarding that day's lesson in class. He also wanted to help with the college newspaper. The paper consisted of editors, reporters, and others that not just gather information from the school, but the surrounding area as well that could pertain to the school. There are various positions that students hold to help put all this info together into a school newspaper. The paper comes out once a week and all students must meet their deadlines before we go to print on Friday. The paper is out by Monday.
As usual I came from behind my desk and sat atop it facing Rich. He seemed genuinely interested and I needed help with the paper.
I told him he could "start the next day getting a feel of what was behind the publication of our paper, and perhaps help to lay out the format in preparation for print."
He smiled and told me that he would see me in class the next day and then in the afternoon to help with the paper. I thanked him and he left.
The following day in class, Rich took his usual seat. After a while, I took mine as well on my desk facing the students. When I would glance at Rich he would smile at me. I rarely lost focus from what I was teaching until this day. I noticed Rich had his elbow on his desk with his chin resting against his hand. He was staring at my legs. This made me a bit uncomfortable, so I got up then sat again behind my desk and resumed teaching from there.
That afternoon I opened the newspaper office, and soon the staff was assembled. We start each day with a meeting. All information obtained from the reporters are read and then edited prior to going to print. Rich decided to sit next to me during the meeting. He had some helpful info regarding the layout of the paper. Most all ideas that he submitted were voted on and some minor changes were made based on his input.
I turned to him, smiled, and said "thank you Rich. You have some great ideas. I would like to make you an assistant editor."
He said he was pleased and that I would not be disappointed.
The next day as usual we gathered for our meeting to discuss news and columns to be approved for publication in the paper. Rich again sat next to me. In the midst of the meeting, I felt Rich's hand touch my thigh. I continued as if nothing was happening. I am a true professional, and even in the midst of controversy, I remain calm.
At the end of the meeting, I looked at Rich with a look as if to say, "that touching was unprofessional and don't do it again."
I was quite frankly at a loss for words because I was stunned at what he had done. I thought to myself that I would let it go but if it happened again I would have to talk to him about it.
I went to the main office and pulled Rich's personnel file and read it. Rich resumed his studies a bit later than most in college. He entered the military right out of high school, and remained for 3 years in the Army. He even worked with the "Stars and Stripes" military newspaper as a writer/reporter. When he got out, he decided to focus on a career in Journalism. He was now 25, good looking, and quite obviously had many female students interested in him. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and for the most part a very nice physique. It was apparent that he worked out. The age difference between us was only 5 years but the fact remained that I was his teacher.
That night at home, I sat with a cup of tea thinking about what had happened. I had just gotten out of the shower, and was clad in nothing more than my robe. I guess if the situation was different, I could be interested in him I thought. The age difference was not much at all. The more I thought about him, the more I drifted into a sexual fantasy about him.
In my mind…………I could see him coming to my office with questions about his class assignments. As usual I came from behind my desk and sat facing him with my legs crossed. As I sat, I made sure that my skirt rose upward and I allowed the beginning of tops of my nylons to be exposed and in full view of Rich. There was just a hint of what was beyond but not immediately visible to him then. While talking, I raised my right leg a bit and repositioned my knee making it higher than the other as they remained crossed. It was a sexy pose indeed and I could see Rich's eyes wander to my legs as I did that. My blouse was unbuttoned to the second button revealing a slight cleavage. I was wearing a pushup bra, and knew if I turned slightly to my right to retrieve a paper from my desk behind me, that my blouse would fall a bit more opened allowing Rich to view what normally would be covered. I did so. When I turned back, Rich's eyes were fixed and focused on my breasts. My seduction had begun. I wanted him to see me as a lady in public and take me sexually as his personal whore.
I continued to explain certain assignments to him. I could see beads of perspiration on his forehead. I slowly reached to remove my reading glasses, then leaned back a bit with both hands on my desk behind me, keeping me positioned.
I asked him if "anything was wrong?"
He reacted by first clearing his throat, then saying to me, "um no not at all."
I responded by saying "it looks like you're uncomfortable."
He cleared his throat again and said, "actually the view from here is very nice."
I smiled and said, "I guess you like what you see."
His response was, "yes. I like it very much."
I knew that yes I wanted to seduce him.
I told him to get up and "lock the door if you are interested in seeing more."
He looked at me for only a moment then did as I asked. He came back and sat in front of me again. I slipped off my high heel from my right foot, the one that was crossed over the other leg and let the shoe drop to the floor. I told him to move his chair closer to me and he did. I took my foot and starting with his knee, worked slowly to the crotch of his jeans and to his cock, feeling every inch with my toes. His was rock hard. He took my leg in his hands and began to kiss and massage. He moved his hands up my left leg to the top of my nylon and studied what he saw. He then reached down and placed my shoe back onto my foot.
He said that he "loved to see a sexy woman in heels and nylons with a garter belt."
He stood up and spread my legs to get closer to kiss me. At first it was a soft kiss, then a bit harder. He separated my lips with his tongue and soon both tongues were playing. He became a bit more aggressive by sliding his hand behind me, and as he grabbed the hair on the nape of my neck, he ripped my blouse opened. His mouth went to the tops of my breasts, licking and sucking. I threw my head back and arched my back pushing my breasts into his mouth. He was driving me wild with passion. I found myself moaning in ecstasy with every lick, nibble and kiss.
With one long sweep of his arm he cleared the top of my desk and pushed me down onto it. He separated my legs and stepped between them. He ripped opened his own shirt exposing his tight masculine physique. He ripped my bra opened from the front and devoured my left breast while manhandling the right. He then stepped back to undress further and dropped his jeans to the floor. He wore nothing under his jeans. He was large and he was hard and the fact that I did this to him validated my own sensuality, to him and to myself. He reached for my panties and with one hard yank, ripped them off me. He turned me over and tied my wrists together with my panties and laid me down again with my hands tied behind my back. He has taken full control and I loved it. I had the feeling of unbridled passion for him and the sensuality was surreal. He walked around the desk as though he were examining me at every angle.
He told me that he "liked looking at me scantily clad in only a garter belt stockings and heels."
