Amy the Teacher's Pet

Amy clutched her books tightly against her chest as she walked into the classroom. She was one of the first students to arrive and claimed one of the empty desks on the front row. She slid her body into the hard wooden seat, pressed her knees together, and smoothed out the front of her new black dress. She kept her eyes down on her books as she listened to the American accents of the students sitting somewhere behind her. They reminded her that she was thousands of miles from her family back in London, and she wondered what her classmates would think when they heard her speak for the first time.

She had worked long and hard to get a scholarship large enough to pay for an American university education. Her family wasn't exactly poor, but she had known from a young age that she would have to work hard to realize her dreams of travelling the world. She threw herself into her studies and excelled, though it occasionally meant that she had to make sacrifices in her social life. If she hadn't been so focused on making perfect grades, she might have discovered that her classmates considered her to be one of the most beautiful girls in school. Her porcelain body was naturally fit and full figured, adorned with a flowing mane of wild red hair. She charmed everyone around her without even trying as she pursued her own agenda with focus and determination.

It wasn't that Amy wasn't interested in sex. She had even lost her virginity at a graduation party this past summer, though the performance of that random 18 year old boy left her feeling somewhat disappointed. There was something about older men, especially those in positions of authority, that turned her on more than any young jock ever could. What would it be like to be with a man who had years of experience? She spent many nights in the darkness of her bedroom pondering that question beneath her sheets.

The sound of the door shutting abruptly brought Amy's attention back to the present, and she saw her professor for the first time. The first thing that struck her was his strong, stout body, which seemed better suited for rugby than academics. Although he was dressed like a college professor, he strode to the front of the room with the authority of an army officer. The classroom fell silent as he placed his briefcase behind the lectern and opened his notes. Amy found herself clutching the desk a bit too tightly and made herself try to relax.

"Welcome to World History 101," he said. "My name is Professor James, and I will be your instructor for this course. The syllabus is being passed around now. You can read it on your own time. It includes the schedule, attendance policy, et cetera. I'm not one of those professors who is going to spend the first day of class going over the syllabus and dismiss class early. You have all paid a high price to take this class, and I promise you that you will get your money's worth. To that end, we are going to get started immediately. Let's start with a simple question. Why are you here?"

Amy froze as the professor turned and looked straight at her, and her mind jumped into action to find the answer to his question. They were both looking directly at each other without speaking. She knew the actual answer: she was in this class because it was required and happened to fit into her schedule, but something told her that it would be wise to keep that to herself. He was still looking at her, but she didn't know what to say. It felt as though she was under the spotlight during a stage play and couldn't remember her lines. She suddenly had the sensation of being physically vulnerable. The professor wouldn't be able to see up her dress from this angle, but she found herself pressing her knees together anyway. It felt like a minute had passed, though in reality it was merely a second or two.

The professor turned away and continued his introduction to the class, and she quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Something inside Amy compelled her to look at his hands to see if there was a wedding band on his finger. She didn't see one and felt a tiny prick of excitement and curiosity before she suddenly realized the implications of those thoughts and pushed them aside. All that mattered was that she needed to listen carefully, do her work, and make the highest possible grade on every task. She opened her laptop and began taking notes on the lesson that the professor was just starting to give. For the next few weeks she paid close attention to every lecture, did all the assigned reading, and studied hard to prepare for her first test.

Three weeks later Amy was sitting at the same desk and smiling. Last week the class had taken their first exam, and the professor was handing them back. The professor had written in red ink, "100, excellent work. Meet me in my office after class." Amy had expected to ace the test, but knowing it for certain always calmed her nerves and gave her a rush of satisfaction. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that many of the other students hadn't fared as well, which gave her a slightly cruel sense of satisfaction and superiority. The professor returned to the front of the room and began the next lecture without discussing the previous exam. Amy rode the emotional high of her accomplishment for the rest of the class period, more confident than ever that she would make it through the semester without any trouble. In her excitement she didn't stop to consider why the professor wanted her to come to his office.

Later that day, Amy knocked on the slightly open door of the professor's office and let herself in. Dr. James was leaning back in a high backed leather chair, talking on the phone, and he raised a finger to indicate that he was almost finished. She looked around as she stepped inside and was awestruck by how many books she saw. Every wall was covered by bookshelves filled beyond capacity, and stacks as high as two or three feet tall sat directly on the floor in various places. She couldn't imagine how long it would take to collect so many, much less how one person could possibly read all of them. She seated herself in an open chair on the opposite side of the professor's desk, which was so covered with items that the oak surface was barely visible. Among the books and papers there was one item that stood out and caught Amy's attention: a finely crafted wooden chess set made of walnut and ash.

The professor, noticing Amy's interest in the chess set, finished his call and looked at her with a curious smile. He nodded toward the chess set and asked, "Do you play?"

"No, but I think I'd like to learn," she replied, feeling a little blush rising in her cheeks. She instantly regretted her choice of words, which could so easily be misconstrued.

He raised an eyebrow and looked intrigued. "I wasn't expecting you to have a British accent," he said. "Are you English?"

"Yes sir," she replied. In the few weeks she had spent in America she had quickly learned that her accent provoked a great deal of interest, especially from men.

"What a nice surprise," he said, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach. "As silly as it must sound, we Americans are easily charmed by it. Makes you seem more sophisticated and intelligent somehow. In your case it's obviously true."

Amy brushed her red hair back and looked at the floor shyly, not sure how to respond and feeling a confusing mixture of emotions. "Thank you, sir," she said and found herself smiling nervously, despite her better judgment. "Many people in England feel the same about American accents. That they're rather nice, that is." Somewhere inside her head an alarm bell went off, and the responsible part of her personality told her to tread carefully.

"It brings back pleasant memories," he said. "I spent some time in London on sabbatical a few years ago. Maybe we could talk about it over drinks. There's a British pub near here that just opened a few months ago, and it would be interesting to see whether you think it's legit or a cheap imitation. Could show you a thing or two about chess, too."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Amy replied cautiously. "I'm only 18, after all."

"I won't tell if you don't," he said with a mischievous smile.

Her cheeks felt much hotter now, and she no longer had any doubts that his interest in her went well beyond the realm of academia. Images flashed through her mind not unlike the ones that she had been thinking about in bed throughout the past summer. But this wasn't a dream, and she decided that she needed to get herself under control before she did something she might regret. "That sounds lovely, sir, but I really am quite busy. I'm not sure I'd be able to do something like that without letting my grades slip."

To her surprise the professor didn't look terribly disappointed. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "Wouldn't want to let your grades slip. In fact, that's why I wanted you to come to my office. You were the only one in the class to make a perfect score, and I wanted to congratulate you. I don't know if you've picked a major yet, but you might consider studying history. You seem to have a knack for it."

"Thank you sir," Amy replied, genuinely flattered and somewhat relieved to be steering the conversation in a safer direction.

"I'd love to talk more, but I have an appointment later and need to get some grading done beforehand," the professor said, rising to his feet to indicate that the meeting was over. "Let me know if you have any questions about the class, and feel free to stop by during my office hours if you need anything at all."

Amy stood at the same time and nodded gratefully. "Yes sir, I will," she said, and hurried out of the office as fast as she could without causing concern. As soon as she was a few steps down the hall she breathed a huge sigh of relief and headed straight back to her dorm. She thought about the meeting throughout the rest of the day, replaying it over and over again in her mind, wondering what might have happened and where it might have led. That night, in the darkness of her bedroom, she thought about the meeting again and imagined what it would be like to go out with her professor without any consequences. With one hand covering her mouth and the other working inside her panties, she brought herself to a powerful orgasm thinking about what could have been.

The next few weeks passed without incident, and Amy continued to work tirelessly to maintain her perfect grades. She consciously avoided provoking any unwanted interest from her professor while remaining engaged in the lectures and studying diligently on her own time. When it came time for the second exam, she was every bit as confident in her success as she had been the first time. She arrived in class the following week expecting to find that she had earned another perfect score. The page was upside down when Dr. James laid it on her desk, handing the test sheets back row by row. When she flipped the paper over the color disappeared from her face. Time seemed to grind to a halt, her heart stopped, and her whole body felt a chilling shock as if she had been dropped into a bath of ice water. The red writing at the top of the page glared up at her: "65, Meet me in my office." She regained her wits just enough to begin frantically flipping through the stapled pages. There were no corrections on the first half of the test, but the essay portion was filled with red marks and comments. She reread her answers, asking herself how she could have possibly done better. The rest of the lecture period was a blur, and she had a sinking feeling about meeting the professor after class.

"Hello, Amy," Dr. James said as she walked through the open doorway of his office later that day. "Have a seat." He gestured toward the chair on the other side of his desk. Holding her books tightly against her chest with both arms, she walked over to the chair and sat down with her knees pressed tightly together.

"I don't understand," she blurted out before he could say anything, and she felt tears welling up quickly. "I knew the material. I studied hard. How could I have failed that test?"

"Technically, a 65 could be called a D, so you didn't necessarily fail the test, per se," the professor said as he sat back in his chair.

"But it should have been an A!" she cried out, unable to stop a tear from rolling down her cheek. "I don't understand, I don't understand..." she repeated.

Professor James grabbed a tissue from a box on his desk and walked around the other side to Amy, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and handing her the tissue. "There there," he said. "It's not the end of the world. You're still on pace to pass the class."

"But I can't just pass the class!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking on the verge of full blown sobbing. His hand on her shoulder brought back the same complex mix of emotions that she felt the last time she sat in the office. She wiped her eyes. "I have to make perfect grades or I'll lose my scholarship and have to go home, and all this work will have been for nothing!"

Professor James patted Amy's shoulder, and something about it made her realize that she might have said too much.

"Listen," he began in a calm and soothing voice. "The class is only halfway over. We still have six weeks left, and you have plenty of time to fix this. You're an excellent student, and I certainly don't want to see you lose your scholarship. Why don't you come over to my house this evening and we'll make a plan about how to move forward from here?"

Amy hesitated for a moment, knowing in one part of her mind that what her professor was suggesting was wildly inappropriate. But the concern in his voice sounded genuine, and at the moment it seemed like she didn't have any other choice. "Ok," she said. "Yes sir, I mean."

"Good, I'm glad to see that you're willing to do whatever it takes to succeed," he said, patting her shoulder one more time before going around to the other side of his desk. He tore a sheet of paper off a memo pad and quickly jotted down a note. "This is my address. I'll be home around 7, so come by anytime after that and we'll see if we can work something out."

Amy looked up across the chess board at her professor and noted that he was still calm and relaxed. She reached out and took the note with a nervous smile. "Thank you sir," she said, taking the note and standing up.

"See you tonight," he said, and walked her to the door, closing it behind her.

A few minutes after seven, Amy walked up Dr. James's driveway wearing a conservative brown dress and heels. Her heart was pounding as she thought about what might happen in the next few hours. The house loomed large in the dark as she approached the door and knocked, taking a deep breath and sighing loudly. A moment later the door clicked and swung open, and Dr. James stepped aside to let her enter. She walked inside and stopped in the foyer as he closed the door behind her, then put a hand on her shoulder and led her into the living room.

Amy was so nervous that she barely noticed the furnishings and decorations, which were classically stylish and included several more shelves full of books. They moved to the sofa and sat down next to each other. On the coffee table sitting about a foot away from their knees, Amy saw a small stack of papers sitting next to a bottle of white wine and two glasses. Her professor popped the cork and poured each of them a glass, and when he handed it to her she simply said thank you and took a sip. Although meeting her professor and drinking wine at his home felt dangerous and inappropriate, she found herself feeling an irresistible thrill. When he touched her knee and reassured her that they were going to work this out, she couldn't help feeling excited despite the obvious wrongness of it all.

"Are you ready to do whatever it takes to fix your grades, Amy?" he said.

She felt her heart thumping hard in her chest, and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good, let's go over your test and see what we can learn," he said, picking up one of the pages and sliding closer to her. For the next few minutes they looked at the test together and discussed what Amy might have done to improve her answers, all the while gently touching her and pressing closer against her on the sofa. Amy was not a fool, and she knew right away that the advice he was giving, while seemingly valid, was clearly a ruse. She played along not only because she felt she had no better options but also because her body was heating up in anticipation, and it seemed like he knew it. The next thing she knew he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back passionately. He put his hand on her cheek and she gripped her dress tightly as she felt his tongue sliding against hers. The way he touched her was more artful and deliberate than she would have thought possible, and she found herself pressing against him despite herself.

There was no going back. Her professor began kissing her neck and sliding his hand down to her breast and she let out a moan. His hands knew exactly what they were doing, cupping and feeling her with just the right amount of firmness that was forceful without being rough. He took charge from the very start, touching her body in ways that she had never been touched while she closed her eyes and let him show her the way. He pulled back and sat back on the couch, and without exchanging any words she moved to her knees with his hands only gently guiding her. He spread his legs as she moved between them and looked up at him with eager and submissive eyes, unzipping his pants and rubbing her hand against him as she uncovered his manhood.

"Do you want to take me in your mouth?" he asked as she looked down to his cock and back up to his eyes.

"Yes sir," she replied without hesitation.

He said nothing more and she leaned forward and took him into her mouth, a surge running through her own body as she did. She reached forward and stroked his shaft while she sucked on the tip, feeling him run his fingers through her hair. She felt overwhelmed with nerves and arousal at the taste of him, the sheer size of him in her mouth making her even more aroused. She started rubbing her clit through her panties while she sucked her professor's cock, taking it deeper and faster. She could tell how good she was making him feel by the sounds he made, the way his body shifted against her. She felt compelled to serve him, pleasure him, let him guide her. And as she continued, he used his hands to make her move exactly the way he wanted. She responded by taking him deeper, moving faster, using every part of her hands and mouth to devour him. She tasted the drops of cum that she was coaxing out of him, and it drove her to push him over the edge. She felt his fingers curl in her hair as he came in her mouth, and she kept bobbing her head up and down while swallowing every bit as she accepted everything he had to offer. When she had taken all he had to give, she looked up at him blushing and shy, ready to do anything he wanted.

She didn't have to wait long to find out what came next. He lifted her toward him and pulled her body against his, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him back as he laid her down on the sofa, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her down and pulled her in at the same time, and she was completely under his power in every way. She watched as he pulled back and moved down her body, pulling her dress off as she shifted to let him take it. He pulled her panties off next and slid his fingers inside her, making her gasp. He put his hands on her legs and pulled them back around his head as he moved his mouth to her pussy and licked her up to the top slowly, telling her exactly how he was going to lick her and finger her pussy until she came for him. He pressed his tongue and fingers into her, his whole arm wrapping around one of her legs while the other was pinned beneath him, and she squirmed for however long it was that she was delirious with pleasure. When he made her cum, she felt like she couldn't breathe and it felt like her whole body was glowing with heat.