This is the first new piece of erotica I've written in 15 years. I hope you enjoy it.
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It came as no surprise that the university selected me to teach the brand new "Introduction to Erotic Writing" class. Having such a course was risky, even for a private university, but being the low man on the totem pole, it came as no surprise that I was the guinea pig selected to teach the class. The fact that most of my colleagues were a bunch of stodgy old men made it practical, as well.
I've always been very open-minded to erotica, so it wasn't with total trepidation that I agreed to take on the challenge. Of course, I also knew that I would be the fall guy if things went poorly.
The class held 30 students and it came as no shock that males filled 25 of the spots. A few weeks in, I was enjoying teaching the class and interacting with the students. But, the same couldn't be said as far as reviewing some of the papers they turned in.
That was especially true of the papers written by the hormone-fueled guys that dominated the majority of the pupils. It felt like many of the students lifted the scripts from random porn movies they watched to create so many of their works.
Every guy's cock was at least eight inches long and 4 inches wide. Every female protagonist had 38DD breasts and would visibly show her man's cum in her mouth before swallowing it. Talk about tools, junk, "my pee hole" (seriously?), three-gallon cumshots, getting post-sex erections five times in 10 minutes, etc., got monotonous. Thankfully, there were exceptions.
The five women in the class were far better writers and far more mature than their male counterparts, although that didn't take too much to accomplish. The women included Haley Silver, who would often stare at me while slowly licking or sucking on her pen.
The best writer by far though was Carrie Taylor. She was a quiet, intelligent sophomore, who wasn't a flashy dresser; she didn't try to draw attention to herself, but clearly she had more thoughts going on behind her magnificent blue eyes.
Her stories were a mix of fantasy, hope, romance and never even bordered on the edge of the ridiculous. She was a pleasure to teach.
After a particularly long day of teaching and supervising the school's digital newspaper, I sat in my office eating a sandwich and grading the latest erotic assignment.
I simply read them in the order that the students submitted them. This meant I first waded through 15 examples of repetitive crap, before I finally came upon something worthwhile. In this case, it was Miss Taylor's latest tale, "The Professor". At last, something to look forward to.
The Professor by Carrie Taylor
My social life in high school was pretty much non-existent. I didn't kiss a boy until the summer after my senior year in high school and I lost my virginity to some drunken frat-bro as a freshman in college. It helped immensely that I was drunk too.
College life for me was wake up, eat breakfast, go to classes, eat lunch, do homework, eat dinner, then mess around on my phone or watch TV, and go to sleep. Occasionally, I would go to the movies with some friends, but pretty much every day was lather, rinse, and repeat.
That is until my sophomore year and my "Creative Writing" course. Professor Morton greeted each of the students as they entered his classroom on the first day of the semester. He fist-bumped, high-fived, shook hands, and welcomed everyone with a winning smile and a few words of encouragement.
I stepped forward through the doorway and my eyes locked on his. I felt an electricity go through my body like I had never known before. My throat went instantly dry as I stared deeply into his beautiful dark brown eyes. When he took my hand, I completely froze in place and couldn't hear anything he said.
Finally, some stupid frat asshole pushed me, literally into the Professor's waiting arms.
"I've got you. Are you okay?" he said with concern in his voice.
"Ye...Yes," I stammered.
"All right then. Find yourself a seat."
I managed to nod in agreement and quickly found an open spot, front and center. I had barely known this person for two minutes and already I could feel my panties getting wet.
Within a short amount of time, I had a new daily routine. Wake up, masturbate, eat breakfast, masturbate, go to classes, each lunch, masturbate, do homework, eat dinner, masturbate, and fall asleep.
I used whatever instruments I could to probe my inner sanctum. Every scenario in my mind was somehow having sex with the Professor. It didn't matter if it was oral sex or intercourse, in any position or physical location.
My fingers were my number one go to. I was constantly ramming them in my pussy, imaging they were the Professor's cock. When I was done, I would lick and suck the juices off my fingers as if it were the cum from his cock. Sometimes, a vibrator or a dildo were my "weapons" of choice and I would clean them off in the same manner. I started to look at cucumbers and squash in a whole new light, but thought better of it.
My grades began to suffer in my other classes, but I received A's on all of my "Creative Writing" assignments. The Professor was noticing me for my writing. Now I needed him to notice me for my face and body.
I spent what little money I had on a salon makeover and some new clothes. I was going to have to get a part-time job to supplement the monthly stipend my parents sent me. It was a pain in the ass, but I knew it was well worth it if I could seduce the Professor.
One Saturday, I had my hair styled, with highlights added. I bought a dress and some new blouses that would have far more buttons open than was normally the case. Makeup, which I rarely wore, became a regular part of my daily routine as well as the application of hot red lipstick.
A month into the class, it finally happened. "Miss Taylor, you're dressed to the nines today. Is there a special event you'll be attending later?"
For a moment, I wasn't sure he was talking to me. "Oh, me; yes, I'm Miss Taylor, right. Um, no particular reason... I just felt like dressing up today." I smiled, but inside I was dying of embarrassment over my awkwardness.
"Well no matter the reason, you look very nice," he said and smiled back.
"Thank you." I felt somewhat relieved, but my skin felt warm, and oh my God, I was so wet.
Over the next couple of weeks my clothes became more daring. I showed more cleavage and sat in a manner that allowed the Professor to see my new lace panties. Sometimes I left my bra and/or panties in my dorm room.
Things seemed to be working. I noticed him looking over my way more frequently. Sometimes he outright stared at me. I felt ready for the next step in my plan of action.
I knew the Professor usually worked late on Tuesday's nights in his office. Around 7 pm, I took that next step. My evening started with a hot steamy shower that included shaving off the small remnant of pubic hair I had, leaving my pussy smooth and totally accessible. You can bet I tried it out immediately, using my fingers to cum twice in the shower.
Once I blew dry my hair, I put on my makeup, earrings, a belly chain, hot red nail polish to match my lipstick, and a pair of new red fuck-me stilettos. I grabbed my knee-length raincoat and started my 10-minute walk to the Baldwin Building. It was a typical red-brick college building, covered in ivy. And, it housed the work-home of the Professor. I was nervous and my...
Holy shit. How could I not see it? The Professor is me. I snapped out of the months-long daze I was in. Everything Carrie talked about in her paper was in reference to me. It wasn't an egotistical thought, but fact. She had started dressing much more noticeably in my class. She looked and carried herself in a much sexier manner, and I caught myself staring at her more often.
I found myself getting hard in class watching her suck on her pen ala Miss Silver, run her hands gently across her cleavage, and though she crossed her legs, she left enough of an opening to see between her legs and a barely-there pair of panties. There were times I could feel precum dampening my boxers and there were situations where I had to wait for things to settle down before I stood up in the classroom. And, over time, the assignments she turned in had become raunchier. I didn't know how I was going to deal with the situation, but for now I continued to read her latest submission.
I was nervous and my heart felt like it was racing as I passed through the main entrance. I walked up to the steps to the second floor, the sound of my heels hitting the tile echoed off of the walls. I opened the door and headed towards his office. As I neared, I could see a light shining through the frosted glass. I knocked lightly on the door. I could see the silhouette of the Professor sitting at his desk. He didn't react, so I knocked a little louder.
I heard something, but was so distracted that it took a minute before I realized someone had knocked on my office door. I continued to stare at the paper in front of me, but said, "Come in."
As my mind was processing/still reeling from what I was reading, I realized someone had entered my office. I turned to see Carrie had entered my office. My mouth dropped open as I looked down at the paper and back at her. In that instant she unfastened her raincoat and let it slip off her shoulders to the floor.
