Staying Late With Miss R

I'd missed yet another college journalism assignment. This was getting to be a bad habit. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Miss Roland decided to give up her time and stay back to help me. I wasn't missing the assignments on purpose; my baseball schedule had recently been flooded with make up games the past 3 weeks, making keeping up with classes very...impossible. The boys filtered out and I copped Carl's wink real sweet. Miss Roland saw it too, but chose to ignore it.

Sighing, I pulled up a chair beside her desk and opened my folder. The snap of the binder echoed loudly in the silence. It was kind of eerie having class in the art room. We had this building for another two weeks while the new renovations came together.

I didn't really mind this. Class finished late, 7pm. I was now alone with Miss Roland, or as I liked to call her, "Miss R.". She was definitely the hottest professor on campus; only 25. Dark brown hair, pale skin like a porcelain doll, lips painted red, nice big breasts that she unknowingly showed off sometimes through her blouses, and a sweet ass. Not to mention some hot legs, and she would always wear stockings...made my mind go wild. On top of all this she was from Australia, and of course, had the hot accent.

"Mike! Did you hear what I just said?!" Something about the inverted pyramid structure for lead newspaper stories... but how the fuck do I apply that to the latest Red Sox game?

'Uhhhm.' My mind was definitely not on homework at that moment.

"Geez Mike! Right now, I'm supposed to be finished. I'm trying to do you a favor by explaining it to you and allowing you to catch up." Her face was flushed, her eyes flashing. She was magnificent. Trying to ignore my building hard on, I gulped and looked at the floor. Shit. I was 20. You'd think by now I'd have my hormones under control.

By the time I looked up again, her face had softened. "Look, I know you're on a scholarship to play baseball, but part of the deal is that you earn a GPA of 4 or higher. Besides, you said you want a sports journalism career when you finish playing. You need to be committed to your work in class too. Not just the games."

'Yeah I know. I'm sorry Miss,' I said. 'It's only that I had a long game today, again. It's late and I am very sore...I wish I could relax for once....seems like I never stop.'

"I understand," she said in that wonderful accent.

"I did something to my rotator cuff, tweaked it, I think."

She walked up and looks quizzically at my shoulder. "Put your arm up above your head." I complied. "Now across your chest... and out to the side." I grimaced slightly.

"May I?" she said quietly, reaching out a hand and indicating to my shoulder.

"Please."

She took my shoulder in her hands, holding my elbow out at different angles and applied pressure to the indent between my arm and collarbone.

"Ow..."

"Sorry." Strangely, it was feeling a lot better.

"Where did you learn to do this anyway?"

"My ex boyfriend was a physio. Back home I pulled it once surfing. It kills, huh?" She stood up. "Okay, so put a heat pack on it every few hours and then lean over in a chair."

"Like this?"

"Yeah. Let your arm dangle, then rotate it up and down, left to right, and then around in circles."

"Hey, thanks!"

"That's okay. It's been a long couple of weeks for your team. I know you boys are working hard. You especially, I heard you pitched 8 innings today. Very impressive."

'Thanks' I said. 'I didn't know a girl from down under would know what innings are,' I added with a smile.

"Haha. I've lived here for 2 years now. Give me some credit."

I'll bet, I thought, but didn't say it. God I wanted to fuck her right now. She must have known that she was turning me on. Could this actually be happening? At that point I had a little hard on going. I was glad she didn't ask me to get up and go anywhere.

I realized there had been a long pause between us. She let go of my back and walked back to her desk abruptly.

"Try doing the lead paragraph and body. I'm going to do some marking."

'Okay.' I said, and stared down at the page. I had no idea what I was doing. I managed to write out the notes part -- the who, what, when, why, where and how. But then I had no idea how to turn them into a lead paragraph of less than 100 words that summed up my story. I mean, why the hell didn't they just write it like a regular story, tell the game play by play? But I guess that wouldn't be good enough for the newspaper readers. And it wasn't going to cut the mustard with Miss R.

Shit. I was screwed. I was going to fail for sure. I gave up, and started doodling in my pages. The entire back half of my loose leaf page folder was covered in drawings. That was my other passion; you see, I loved art. If I hadn't been so good at baseball I'd be doing a visual arts major at Pratt for sure. I guessed some of the other macho types I play ball with may have thought it's wimpy, but I loved to draw. And my favourite thing to draw was female nudes.

Sometimes they came from a movie or a picture. Sometimes they were from life models. But more often, they were from my imagination.

"I can see you've finished early..." Miss R said with a smile, and then flipped the paper around to see the blank page. She sighed. "You know, Mike! I don't know why I even bother!"

'I'm sorry! I just can't bring myself to concentrate. My mind is on other things...' I ran my hand through my hair, trying to act cool.

My elbow bumped the folder and paper went flying everywhere.

Spiral pictures, waves, portraits, and nudes. Nudes everywhere, floating around the room. She picked up a handful, and clicked her tongue.

"In spite of the questionable content... you do have quite a talent though with this drawing. Do you draw a lot of nude women?" She flipped through the pages.

'Um..yes I do.'

"Mike." Her voice faltered as she held one out. "Is that me?"

I swallowed. "Yeah. I guess it is." I'd drawn her in an old school 50s corset, pinching in her waist to highlight that hourglass figure. Strapless bra and panties underneath, and then gradually she lost piece by piece, so first her breasts were exposed and then... everything.

I looked at her and smiled, utterly mortified, not sure what to say or do. Just then she dropped her pencil and bent over, perhaps to cover her blushing face. Her ass was right in my face, I wanted to reach out and grab it so bad. Then I did it. I don't know why. I guess I didn't have anything to lose.

"Michael, what are you doing?" she said sharply.

'I'm sorry..."

"You should go... we're not supposed to be involved with our students. I could lose my job."

'I know. I just... never mind.'

I bent down and picked up my things. I had such a hard on at that point. I turned towards the door, but I didn't want to go anywhere. I was tired, somewhat delirious, and horny, and figured I would give my impulses one more shot. Like I said, I had nothing to lose.

Miss R was at her desk, fumbling with some papers, her back to me. I walked up behind her and gently put my hands on her hips. "Please," I whispered.

She was startled, but sighed and then leaned back into me. "This never happened," she replied. My lips caressed her neck and the sweet spot under her ear. She shuddered and let out a little moan.

She put her hand on mine and drove her ass into my crotch. I knew then that she was as turned on as I was. My hand followed hers and I pulled her blouse out of her skirt, snaking my hand over her warm stomach and finally touching those magnificent breasts through her bra. I pull the cups down and played with her hard nipples. My other hand reached through the split at the back of her skirt.

To my relief she was wearing thigh highs with suspenders, so at least I don't have to figure out how to get them off. Good lord, lacy French panties. I traced my fingers around the edges to find the gusset already soaking. I slide a finger across the wetness, and then inside her. She was sobbing. "Please," she moaned. I turned her around, lifted her up and laid her on her back across the art table. I opened her blouse and set to work on her breasts, while maneuvering my hands back up her skirt. I snapped the stockings from her suspender belt and rolled down her panties. "Not much use for these now, is there?" She whimpered in reply.

I could smell her arousal and I had to taste her. I dipped my head, covering her thighs in kisses, tonguing her until she was bucking underneath me. I pinned her legs down, spreading them wide, taking a moment to take in this kinky picture. She lay fully dressed, with her nipples exposed, panties off, skirt around her waist and her legs still encased in thigh high stockings and those high heels. Looking me straight in the eye, driving me wild.

I dove between her thighs, parting the skin around her swollen bud, giving it teasing short licks as she gasped. I slowly built up the pressure, and she reached around to touch my hand. I knew what this meant: she wanted my fingers inside her, driving deep into her core. A lot of guys try to speed it up as the girl gets excited; but I knew better. I kept a slow, steady rhythmn, twisting and sliding my fingers in and out of her as I steadily lapped at her clit. Her fingers ran through my hair and her moans got louder. I kept going. Her arms and thighs were starting to shudder, but I knew I had to be steady if she was going to come hard. Finally, there it was, the walls of her pussy spasming strongly as her body was bucked by wave after wave.

She put her head back, exhausted. "Give me a second..." she breathed. "Then I can take care of you."

"Actually..." I countered. "I'd rather our first time was all about you."

"What? You're going to kill me." She sat up. "It's um... you know... I've been single about six months so... it's been a while."

Now it was my turn to look shocked. What sort of idiot would ever think to break it off with her? She was the most amazing woman I had ever met... beautiful, smart, adventurous. If she were mine, I would let her know it every day.

In fact, I had to let her know now. But I was too chicken to say it out loud, so I kissed her. And I did it again. Her hands were running up the legs of my jeans now, stroking my erection through the denim. She tugged at the button and unzipped my fly. My boxers came down faster than I ever could have done on my own. She grabbed my ass and pulled me on top of the table with her. My knees dug into the plastic tables but I was past caring. I perched on top of my elbows as she unbuttoned my shirt, still leaving it on but letting her hands roam all over my torso. She kissed me again, put her arms around my waist and pulled me to her.

Entering her was heaven. Her pussy muscles contracted rhythmically around my cock as we ground into that table. With each thrust we let out a moan, not even caring that we might get busted by the security guard. I saw her gaze off to the left. Following her eyes, I saw our reflections in the light hitting the window. To this day it is the hottest thing I have ever seen.

I pulled myself up so my knees were under her thighs, and I was sitting back on my haunches. "I want you to play with yourself," I growled. "I want to watch you touch your clit while I'm inside you." She complied, wetting her finger with her damp pussy, then rubbing it in circles round her aching clit. I used one hand to help myself thrust inside her, and the other to play with her nipples.

This time I was surprised by how sudden it was. There was no real warning; all off a sudden she bit her lip, her eyes widened and she shuddered to another climax. This time I couldn't hold back. "You're so, so beautiful. I can't believe we're doing this. I've wanted you for so long now."

"You don't even know my first name," she laughed gently.

"What is it?"

"If you really want to know, you'll find out. In the meantime..." she strokes my cock, and leads me over to her desk at the front.

"Oh wow."

She bends over, lifting her skirt up, her stockings, heels and ass on full display. "Come here and finish what you started."

Now we were right in front of that window and it was all I could do not to come straight away. I pushed my cock in and out of her, slowly, deliberately teasing. She tensed her muscles around me, massaging me until all I could do is let out a loud moan. I reached around and rubbed her clit, hard and fast. I had to get her to catch up with me. I had to because otherwise I was going to explode.

"Miiiiike!" Her voice was shrill. "Oh..." and she collapsed against me, her body convulsing. Not a second later I lost control, slamming my body into her hard, five times, and pumping my load inside her.

I turned her around and we kissed, with surprising tenderness considering the intensity of the last half hour.

That night I went home and drew her, over and over again, her face contorted in pleasure, her hair everywhere, her face glowing.

She was right, you know. I didn't pay much attention to my journalism class. I ended up changing majors. After my baseball career was over, I became a full time art teacher.

And I found out her name. Katherine. Katherine Roland.

Except now it's Katherine Mayne. I know this because I married my professor only three years later. And I still tell her how beautiful she is, to this day.