Linda looked around the classroom, filled with over 200 first-year students. My God, she thought to herself, how am I going to get any personal attention out of this class? I enrolled in this university because it sold itself as having an average class size of 25. I guess I'll have to remind myself what an average is.
She glanced up when the professor entered the room. Ummmm. Not bad, she mused; must be 30 something, maybe 40. Kinda young to be a full professor. He looks nice in that suit, and those sloping shoulders must mean he works out lifting weights. This may be interesting after all.
Linda, 18 going on 30, had a body to die for and a face to match -- a long, slender neck on which an oval shaped face reposed. Her soft auburn hair was done in a pony tail, emphasizing the long lines of her neck and the shape of her face. She had piercing blue eyes that missed little and intimidated many. Those eyes sparkled as she contemplated Professor Roger Adams speculatively. She noted the ring on his ring finger but dismissed it as a minor obstacle.
Married men, single men, boys -- all had fallen under her sway since she had been a budding teenager. She had sharpened her skills of seduction during high school and felt capable of getting any live man into bed, as long as he was straight.
Roger Adams let his eyes roam idly over the sea of faces in front of him. Only 41 years old, he had been the youngest full professor in the history of the university when he was hired 15 years ago. He was a boy genius, earning his bachelor's, master's, and Ph. D. in English literature in the same year from the most prestigious university in the state.
He had married a classmate the year they graduated. They had no children and had no plans to have any. They intended to live life to its fullest, and children would only be an encumbrance. Roger was no philanderer, but he enjoyed the company of women and it was fun to flirt with the coeds. He had never slept with one and did not intend to.
A smile flickered over his face. The "Blondes," as he called them, were lined up in the front row. They were not all blondes, but he thought of them that way -- shapely, attractive, short-skirted. Their seductive smiles and flashing thighs were supposed to tempt him. He enjoyed the show they put on, but that was all. No prude was Roger, but screwing coeds was not part of his makeup.
He looked up the steeply-banked row of seats and saw Linda, seated in the very back row in the corner. He frowned inwardly. Even at this distance he recognized the prettiest face and shapeliest body in the class. He wondered what she was doing there. She should be down front with the Blondes, he thought. He took in a breath, thinking to himself that this was the most sexual creature he had ever seen.
Roger pulled his eyes away from Linda, who had not missed his penetrating gaze. I think I have a live one here, she thought. Her eyes on Roger, she wondered how she was going to capitalize on the interest she had seen on his face.
Shaking his head, Roger told the class how he operated: They were to be on time, fill out the seating chart, and be prepared to discuss the story assigned for that class period. He gave them a short story to read and handed out an outline that explained how he expected them to analyze each assignment. He emphasized that, while this was a large class, it was going to be organized as if it were a smaller discussion-sized class.
"The next time we meet, I will hand out a seating chart for this room. Take whatever seat you wish, sign your name by that number, and stay put the rest of the semester." With that, he dismissed the class.
Normally he would leave the classroom at this point, but today he lingered, watching for that stunning girl in the back row. He pretended to be busy with some papers on the desk, but he was watching her wend her way down the stairs to the exit near the desk in the front of the room.
He could not keep his eyes off of her, and she knew it. She put an extra swing in her hips as she slithered from the room, smiling to herself. She had glanced at his crotch as she walked past him and was thrilled to see the beginnings of a bulge in his pants. Aha, she thought, methinks this is a horny devil.
Roger ran his eyes over the seating chart when it had been handed to him at the beginning of the next class. The students had been alerted as to his photographic memory and were not surprised when he began to call upon them by name after a cursory look at the chart.
The class went swiftly. The students had also been warned that he was serious when he said he expected them to be prepared. "He doesn't use sarcasm," one student told Linda. "He just shakes his head and you know there is a mark by your name in that computer he has for a brain. And don't even attempt to fake it with him. He does not put up with bullshit."
Three weeks into the class, Roger had each student sign up for a fifteen minute conference in his office to discuss their term paper. He's like a machine, one student whispered to another as they waited in line to see him.
Linda had no intention to be held to a 15 minute interview. She made sure her appointment was the last one of the day and meant to make maximum use of every minute.
She dressed carefully for the meeting -- a short, but not too short skirt, and a blouse with a scooped out neck that revealed the tops of her breasts, but not too much. She wanted a sexual, not slutty look. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, emphasizing her long neck and oval face.
"And what do you plan to do for a term paper, Linda?" Roger began the interview.
Linda shifted in the chair that was placed at the side of his desk, just enough to call his attention to her shapely thighs. She ran her tongue over her carmine lips and smiled inwardly when she saw Roger's eyes lingering as they fastened on her thighs. She crossed her legs, not enough to expose her panties, but enough to let him know the shapeliness of her calves and knees extended upward.
When Roger had torn his look from her thighs, Linda fastened her blue eyes on his, telling him, "I'm going to do an analysis of romance novels. My aunt reads them all the time. She showed me one and I thought it read like porn for women; lots of foreplay and a little sex."
Roger's eyes blinked as he listened. He had not heard a student talk so frankly about sex since he began to teach, especially a female student. He was aroused thinking of this sexy girl reading the subtle and not so subtle sexual passages that he knew were the staple of romance novels.
He nodded as he thought. Why not? The Dean may not approve, but it was a legitimate topic. "All right," he told her. "I want to see you once a week to discuss your progress. Is this time all right for you?"
Linda's pulse ticked up a few beats as she listened. I wonder how many students he is scheduling like this. A one on one every week. Ummmm. I like that idea. She smiled at Roger, her tongue again running softly over her lips. "That will be fine. Now, can we talk about this week's reading assignment? I found it fascinating."
Roger acquiesced, delighted to have this lovely creature linger in his office. He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but it was impossible to ignore her breasts and thighs. His cock throbbed in his pants each time she leaned forward. Her blouse would gape open, and he could see the some of her breasts, enough so that he could tell she was not wearing a bra.
It did not help that she would squirm in her chair when she got excited over points they discussed, revealing more and more of her sexy thighs. Linda, carefully modulating how much she exposed her body, led him through her list of questions and comments. By the end of 45 minutes, Roger had a raging hard-on.
Linda smiled at him as she got up to go. "I'm sorry I kept you so long, professor," she told him. "I appreciate your time."
Linda smiled to herself when she left. She had extended her hand to Roger, who was forced by her action to stand and shake her hand.
He could not conceal the hard-on that tented his pants. His face was flushed; he knew that she had seen.
The next week Linda began by outlining the plots of three novels she had read, emphasizing the extended foreplay that was a part of each book; the lengthily fondling, tongue-fucking kisses, and not so subtle descriptions of cunnilingus. Roger's cock was throbbing in his pants, leaking into his shorts the entire time they met.
At the end of the fourth session, Roger asked her if she would like to join him for a cup of coffee at the student center. Linda pretended to forget her notebook as they were leaving his office and, when turning to go back for it, brushed up against Roger.
He swallowed as he felt one unfettered breast press against his arm and a thigh sliding by against his. He glanced at her as she picked up her notebook. Was that on purpose? He wondered. Whether or not it was on purpose, it had its desired effect: a stiffening of an already stiff cock.
Roger was getting more and more sexed up every time they met. And Linda was beginning to get that familiar warm feeling in her loins. It had been months since she had sex, and that had been a disappointment. She looked forward to sex with Roger, certain it would happen. How she did not know, but happen it would.
Coffee after their meeting became routine, and they spent more and more time at the Student Center. Roger could not keep his eyes off her breasts and thighs, and Linda did not help. She would sit with her chin propped up in her hands, her back straight, breasts thrust forward. Often she would open her arms to make a point, and her unsupported breasts would sway under the thin cloth of her blouse. And her blouses became more and more revealing with each meeting.
Linda also made sure her thighs were exposed to best advantage, wearing shorter and shorter and tighter and tighter skirts. One skirt was slit up the side, cut almost to her panties.
The opportunity Linda knew would take place came sooner than expected. Roger explained to her the next to last time they met that there was a prize given by the English departments of the universities in the state for a paper written by a first year student. He wanted her to submit her paper. The winning paper would be announced at a convention of English teachers to be held at the end of the semester. There was a substantial cash prize.
Linda looked at him quizzically, the unasked question being, how does this affect me? Roger went on to explain that the department would pay for her to attend the convention and, if she and her parents agreed, he would drive her to the convention, which was to be held at State University, some 80 miles away.
"I'd love to go, and I'm sure my parents would allow me to ride with you," she told him, her heart almost bursting with excitement thinking of the honor this prize would bring to her. And, she thought, her pussy pulsing, there will be other prizes the committee has not thought about. I wonder if Roger's mind is also focused on things other than literature prizes.
