Teachers Pet 71

This is the next story regarding the good Professor Clarke Hendrix and what happens to his life after The Kelpie's Lover story.

These characters will be in future stories and have random adventures as they get to know each other. They will not all be chapter-stories but stand-alone in a series of stories.

Thank you for reading!

*****

Anthropology professor Clarke Hendrix didn't match the image Heather painted in her mind. She wasn't sure if she felt disappointment or relief at this fact. She'd really let herself get carried away with the fantasies she'd crafted about him over the month she'd interviewed for the job as his student research assistant. She began the crush the prior year as she followed the news involving the exciting discoveries he was making in remote locations of Scotland.

Her research of the man uncovered the usual, he spent time in Egypt, Greece, and Italy focused primarily on various underwater Archeology sites he researched for several books he authored. Then, this past year his discovery in Scotland changed his focus. He'd been diving off the north most points in Scotland looking for sunken ships when he discovered a burial site on the distant island with significant artifacts, the research of those findings were still in the works. The implication that he'd found something spectacular.

The last year of high school couldn't be done fast enough. She wanted out there to discover lost artifacts and learn about obscure societies. Her friends didn't understand the draw of her choice of study. She was captain of the volleyball squad, she played soccer and softball and ran cross country. Why did she want to be digging in the dirt or locked in a room squinting at dusty old books? "The excitement of the uncovering the unknown," she told them. They just didn't get it.

And Fresno! Why Fresno?

Because: Professor Clarke Hendrix.

She spent her last year in high school interning for Fresno State on her winter and spring breaks. She had not met Professor Hendrix yet. Though she'd researched him and seen plenty of pictures. When she was there for her work, he was off elsewhere. There were two opinions about the Hendrix. He was a driven hard-ass who was very intense and he was a good teacher who could teach you a lot if he didn't break you in the process. So she threw herself into the studies and work during her holidays, inspired to make the most of this time and learn as much as she could. It wasn't all book work though, she also climbed Half Dome and went on a rafting trip down the Kaweah River and camped in Sequoia National Park, went scuba diving in Monterey and skied Badger Pass.

She wasn't the homecoming queen, but her best friend was. She went to the winter formal and prom. She let her quarterback boyfriend finally get to second base in the limo going home from her eighteenth birthday party.

Eighteen, she was legal, a switch on her sexual urges should click to 'ON'. Right? Chip was painfully good looking no question about it, all the B's. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders. Bull necked. He was only missing the most important B of all. Brains. She really liked Chip, they'd dated since they were freshmen, and she always assumed there would be the natural progression into sex. She kept waiting for the spark that would set the fire and consume her.

Her best friend told her she just needed to let him touch her 'down there' and get her libido started up. It would be so good once she felt his big hands on her pussy. Maybe let him put his smart mouth to work on her cunny. Heather wasn't so sure Chip would consent to putting his mouth there on her soft pink lips. His kisses were pretty good, she tried to imagine his tongue going to that delicate place between her legs but felt not spark of longing.

He tasted like black licorice thanks to the Jägermeister he'd guzzled. Chortling, he ripped her bra away and fell onto her, drooling over her neck as both hands clawing up into her breasts. When she cupped her hands over the front of his slacks, she could feel the pulse through his cock as it strained in anticipation. His thick fingers grabbed at her breasts and squeezed, twisting the handfuls back and forth with drunken delight at finally getting to feel the soft mounds of flesh without fabric in the way.

When would she feel the fire spread through her belly? She looked out the window of the car as the city lights twinkled by them. The weight of his powerful body pressed her into the leather seat and his hips rocked back and forth against her stroking hand. His moans and growls muffled as he lapped and slurped his way up to her ear, "Lets fuck back here. It will be a moment you'll remember forever!" He moaned to her. "For your birthday baby. I need you so bad it hurts."

What hurt was his fat fingers scrubbing against her pussy. After he tore down her panties, he tried to shove a finger into her. She couldn't be sure if it was the taste of his mouth or his fumbling that left her dry and cold. He wetly slurped on her other ear, soaking the skin. He groaned. "It will be so good baby. I love you baby. Just let me stick it in you."

She squirmed, trying to make herself comfortable while the finger drilling at her dry hole. Or was she trying to escape the relentless pressure? This was the hotness that her friends were all praising? Did it get better the longer his finger ground against her? Finding her not getting any wetter, he drew the hand back and spat on his palm and then reached to cup it over her sex, smearing the liquor spit against her mistreated pussy. The sensation was warm and burned slightly against the delicate petals of her virgin sex.

By this time, he'd helped her get his belt open and his pants down, boxers pushed over his strong hips. He paused in bruising her breasts in his grip to look down at her hand wrapped around his bare cock. It was too dark to enjoy the finer features of his body. The hard, youthful muscles, the sexy hipbones and the upward thrusting cock flesh that he shoved at her, demanding. Lights from passing cars flickered over him as he thrust into her encircling fingers.

"Fuck Heather! So good. Isn't it good baby?"

His voice shook, breaking in a moan as she cupped his velvety balls and rolled her fingertips along the cum filled orbs. A drop of precum drooled from the head and landed on her belly as she squeezed her fingers up towards the tip. Her efforts had distracted him from grinding into her pussy. This was enjoyable. Watching his face twist with pleasure, feeling his powerful body shuddering over her, his cock pulsing under her palm.

"I want to fuck you Heather!! Let me fuck you!" He growled it out, already trying to work between her thighs. His hand strong against her hip and thigh, forcing her open wide enough to get between her legs. He was so huge, she wasn't sure how her aching pussy could take him. She already felt rubbed raw from his attempts to finger her. His eyes rolled back into his head as he jerked his hips forward, grinding the head of his cock against the mound of her sex.

"Chip, wait. I don't think I'm ready. I'm—" He silenced her protests with a kiss. As his fat tongue brutally thrust between her lips, she had a moment of panic that he could overpower her and take what he wanted. She squeezed against his balls with her hand as though that would stop him. His body jerked and his moan filled her mouth. She felt his heartbeat through her palm as she squeezed and then the hot spray of liquid against her belly and a second gush between her breasts as his hips surged back and forth in her grip. He broke the kiss, throwing his head back with a cry of pleasure.

Lights glitter over the seed he'd shot over her exposed skin and clothing. Cum drooled over her knuckles and along her wrist too but most of it soaked her body. She gasped for her breath, shaking violently under him.

So, that was sex, she thought. She was not impressed.

His sticky heat cooled quickly over her stomach in the dark of the limo. His soft grunts rasping like a rutting beast. Her neck and ear was also cooling from the bath he'd given her with his greedy mouth. He slumped back into his seat, looking at her with hooded eyes and an expression of pride for the leavings on her tawny belly and tits.

The breakup was clean and easy, for her at least. She thought she'd work on a 'we can be friends' speech, but after he called her a frigid dyke she felt no desire to spare his feelings. Besides, there were only a few months until she would be moving to Fresno. It seemed a realistic place to end their relationship. Next time they were alone in an intimate situation, she might not get so lucky to get him off before he took what he wanted.

Maybe she was gay. She thought about this often after the breakup, reflecting on her lack of desire. Chip was dating one of her friends the week they broke up. She didn't feel anything about that, except to pity the woman for what she'd have to put up with. Then she heard the other woman talking about the sexual exploits and no longer worried about it.

"He is so fucking big! My panties were soaking wet by the time he was done sucking on my tits and he didn't even have to touch my pussy." The girl gushed over lunch the following Friday. "We were in the back of his car, I didn't think we'd have enough room back there but he managed to fit in just right. Every inch of him. I have never cum so hard in my life."

Heather found a Penthouse magazine in her big brother's room. None of the pictures of naked women thrilled her either. She flipped through the whole thing, looking at the slick and slippery pink holes spread open with painted fingernails. Images of women pressing their naked pink pussies together, grinding them and breasts together, pinching taunt nipples as they writhed on sand or beds or the back of a pickup. Images of toys stuffed into tight little puckers and smearing open the juicy cunts.

Her own passions remained quiet and unresponsive.

She was frigid?

Except when she imagined Professor Clarke Hendrix! She could look at the picture of him fully dressed and feel the sullen heat flush up her neck and through her cheeks. When she thought what it would be like working with him it made her heart pound uncontrollably. She thought of looking into the intense hazel eyes as she pressed herself up against her lean, lithe chest.

Then she spoke with him over the phone for the first of her many interviews and she was done for. He had an elegant British accent, his tone low and quiet as he explained the details of what the job would entail. He grilled her ruthlessly about what she wanted to work for him in particular. What were her goals? Why did she think she would be the best candidate for this job? What expectations did she have?

And as they talked, she found her hand sliding into her shirt, caressing along the swell of her breast. Her fingertips found her nipples taunt and when she brushed them over the peak, felt the tingling warmth between her thighs. It sparked a sensation low in her belly twisting in a tingle making her blush burn hotter. She wanted to feel his breath against her thigh as he asked her, "What do you think if the best quality for a research assistant?" And feel the curl of his tongue write his name along the delicate skin along her pussy lips.

The first orgasm she ever had happened the night after she got off the phone with him. She'd managed to shimmy out of her panties as she'd answered his questions. Her fingers stroked over the soft lips of her pussy while she spoke calm and cool into the phone. "I am young, but what I lack in age, I make up for in determination, drive and dedication." She head swam and she wasn't sure if she sounded like an arrogant hack, or an overachieving future college freshman, but she didn't care, her finger was knuckle deep in her pussy then and she was fighting the urge to moan out his name into the phone.

"Do you have any questions for me my dear?" He asked, that refined elegance in his tone as she looked at the picture of him on the back of his latest book.

"What are you expectations for your research intern?" She managed to keep her voice steady as she asked the question and was rewarded by the smile she heard in his voice over the line.

"I expect nothing but perfection." Even as he said it, she drove her finger deeper into her cunt, hearing the wet slap of her skin on the slippery heat of her velvety lips. She was so swollen, her clit hard like she'd never experienced it. "I am a demanding educator and I expect that the person working with me will be just as focused and determined to get to the truth. Attention to detail is key and a steady work ethic that will not surrender at the first obstacle."

Every word licked passion through her and she had to turn her head away from the phone and pant into her pillow as her hips writhed upward, grinding her palm against her clit as she plunged her fingers in and out of her pussy.

This was the hunger then! This was the need! It was nearly blinding. She wanted to cum as he spoke about how demanding he was and his hard-ass expectations. Somehow she managed to make it through the rest of the question and answer, able to keep her voice more or less serious before the call ended.

As soon as the connection ended though, she thrust another finger into her snug little pussy and focused all her determination on the building orgasm. Her thumb pressed against her clit as she fingered herself, juices coating her fingers, drenching her and trickling between her ass cheeks as she began to shudder. She looked at the picture of his calm, self-satisfied smile on the back of the book as she came, crying out brokenly as the muscles around her fingers throbbed and pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Even her toes curled and the pleasure coiled over the soles of her feet.

All from his voice.

She built him up in my mind, making interesting fantasies she played out in the bathtub, before bed and in the morning when she woke up. Masturbation became a regular routine in her day. It was just a phase. This would pass. Then she got the notification that she got the job. It slowly dawned on her that working with this man might be almost impossible if she had to go around in soaked panties every time she was around him. It was a risk she would have to take.

So, of course when she'd marched up to the Third floor of the Peters Business building to meet him at last, her heart was in her throat, pulse hammering and her blood pumping hot. And she felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped on her when she saw him. He was not what she expected. A part of her signed in relief. It was all a fantasy and she could move on, sanity could return. The other part felt a keen disappointment. She liked the idea of being the naughty school girl; HIS naughty school girl.

At first she couldn't pinpoint what didn't quite match up. Through her research, she knew he wasn't a young man, but she found that mature side very hot. However, the photos left out the weariness she could see in the set of his shoulders and lining his face. She had to admit that in person, his voice lacked the confidence she'd heard during the several rounds of phone interviews. Had it been all in her mind? She'd dreamed up some mystery man?

Silly Heather- you looking to get lucky with some Indian Jones dude? Of course he's going to be as old as your grandfather. Alright, not quite as old as her grandfather, but he had to be in his mid-forties. Behind the thick spectacles, his eyes seemed somewhat glassy but the smile was warm and charming. In his youth, he must have been a real ladies man. In fact, even at his age, there was something graceful about him, a dancer's elegance. He had a strong, swimmer's build. He just looked very tired.

"Miss Carmichael. A pleasure to finally meet you face to face." The refined English accent was there alright, but the strength behind it lacked the luster she'd heard over the phone line. The man really was burning himself out as he'd said. The whole reason for her employment after all. She was here to work, not to flirt. Better that he was a kindly older man than a hottie who would distract her from her education.

"Professor. It's a delight to be here! I have been looking forward to meeting you for so long." She couldn't possibly tell him his rumbling, refined accent in her ear gave her several heated nights and days over the past weeks. It felt almost shameful now that she saw him in person.

Almost.

His hand felt rough over hers, the grip steady though not strong. These were working hands. Of course they were. He'd spent most of his summer in a dig where he and his team had collected many of the artifacts she would be cataloging. What a rare find. Never in her lifetime could she have imagined to have a dig uncover new items. The whole world having plundered most of the historic sites. Refreshing that not all of them had been uncovered.

This older man hardly looked the sort to be out in the cold working the dig himself, or able to dive in those frozen waters to search for the downed ships. Yes, that's really what struck her; she'd expected a man with more youth left in him. She could understand the pictures being older, but had she been tricked?

"We will get you settled in before throwing you right into the work. Next week classes will begin in truth so we have some little time. Do you find accommodations here suitable? Are you staying in the dorms?" HIs hand held hers warmly and then released her before it could get awkward. The touch was polite, cultured and friendly rather than sexy, caressing and intimate.

"Dorms for right now. Going to see what it's like before trying to get a place of my own. I figure I'll be too busy between studies and work here to need much space."

"Right you are and wise to get the lay of the land first. Fresno is not as tame as the college brochures make it out to be. So, let me show you the office. I'm afraid our budget will force us to share, but I don't take up much room." He pushed the glasses up his nose and turned, motioning for her to proceed him into the office. "Would you like coffee? Tea?"

You are here to work, she told her disappointed libido. This is still the hard-ass professor who is going to teach you all the things you need to know about archeology. You are going to have your hands in one of the biggest finds in your generation. Get your head out of your cunny.

"Tea sounds great." She said aloud, trying to put cheer into her voice that she wasn't feeling. If he noticed it, he didn't make any mention, just moved to the electric kettle and poured from it into a mug. The room was cozy with two desks set up with matching computers at each one. One wall was covered by a white board and on it were pictures and maps and diagrams that listed out the previous excavation site. The desk she would work stood empty while his was loaded with papers and boxes. Other boxes were stacked against the far wall and blocking various file cabinets. A small table had a coffee maker and electric kettle and several tins of tea and coffee.

"I have the traditional Earl Grey or would you like Jasmine or Peppermint?"

"Earl Grey sounds great. No cream or sugar."

Her words made him curl a slow smile up and he opened a tea tin and withdrew the bag, laying it into the hot water before passing her the cup. As he did, the cuff of his long sleeve shirt rode up, displaying the blue-black of a tattoo along his arm. Just a wink and then gone as he turned away to get his own drink.

"Nice ink." She said, and instantly regretted it. She had not seen enough of it to know if it was a horrible prison tattoo or something worse.

He looked at her curiously, both eyebrows lifting up at her statement and the intensity of his glossy gaze was much like the one that had driven many of her fantasies. "Is it?" He didn't offer to show her more as she'd hoped.