As a professor at a small New England college, each fall I meet many of my students' parents when they come to visit campus. This fall the visit of one parent was especially memorable. Sandy was one of the students in my lecture class whom I barely knew. I had taken note of her name, however, because several times she had been sitting about halfway up the steeply-raked lecture hall and had allowed her knees to drift apart during class, giving me a perfect view up her skirt. The last time she had done so, it was obvious that she was not wearing any panties, and confirmed the fact that she is a natural redhead. Usually, when a coed allows this to happen, it is intentional, and a prelude to more intimate relations.
However, Sandy did not make the usual effort to talk to me after class, or to arrange an "advising" session in my office. I never initiate these things. After all, there are always coeds who eagerly offer themselves, which makes things so much easier for the professor. So, I was just content to enjoy Sandy's "show," a bit more aroused, perhaps, by the fact that she seemed to be doing it unconsciously.
Sandy did finally approach me, however, just before our annual "parents' weekend" event. She stopped by my office to tell me that her Mom would be visiting class with her that Friday afternoon, and hoped to meet me. "Why does she want to meet me?" I asked Sandy.
"Well," she replied, with a sort of bowing of her head, "I guess I've told her how great you are and she wants to see for herself." As she spoke, Sandy's beautiful, silken red hair cascaded over her shoulders, almost completely obscuring her face. At the same time, she slowly crossed her legs, affording me a fleeting glimpse of her nakedness. Her short denim skirt rode even higher up her thighs, and Sandy made no effort to pull it down, leaving me with the wonderful sight of her young, firm, bare thighs. As she pushed her hair back over her shoulders, Sandy's face seemed flushed, and her voice became more throaty. In almost a whisper, Sandy continued, "my mother wants to have dinner with us Friday, if you are free."
"What's your mother's name?" I asked, as I watched Sandy's chest rise and fall in a pattern of shallow, nervous breathing, and her nipples begin to harden under her blouse and what must have been a very sheer bra.
"Her name is Michelle, but everyone calls her Micky," Sandy responded.
"And your dad? Will he be coming to campus, too?" I asked, even though by then I knew what the answer, in one form or another, was going to be. I just wanted Sandy to acknowledge that she was setting up a dinner for just herself, her mother, and me, and to encourage her to begin thinking about what might happen. After all, a girl sitting there with no panties on, her skirt high on her thighs, and hard nipples, would have to be thinking about sex!
"My father left us a long time ago," she said with a flash of anger in her voice.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, in an effort to sound solicitous instead of lustful.
"Don't be," Sandy replied firmly. She uncrossed her legs slowly, and left them apart so I could clearly see the forest of red curls covering her womanhood and, looking me straight in the eyes, added "the faggot left mom and me five years ago to go fuck his little boyfriend. He's been living in the village in New York ever since."
"Wow," I replied, and couldn't stop myself from adding, "I find that rather amazing. If your mom looks anything like you I don't know how any man could go the other way."
A big smile suddenly lit up Sandy's face, "Oh, Professor Black, that is so sweet, you know just how to make a girl feel good, don't you!" As she spoke, she leaned forward in her seat, put her hand on my knee, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. "Mom and I do look alike, and I'm going to tell her what you said. She's going to love it," Sandy whispered into my ear. With that, she got up to leave. I had to remain seated, as my cock was now hard as a rock. When Sandy reached the door of my office, she turned halfway back toward me and winked! "See you Friday," she declared cheerily. She had become a completely different person from the quiet, withdrawn, little exhibitionist she had been in my class for the last month. Her new persona excited me.
Friday's class was filled with parents; obnoxious fathers trying to show off by "participating" in the discussion, mousy mothers and mothers with too much make-up on, and Sandy's mother Michelle. Micky looked more like Sandy's sister than her mother. Her strawberry blonde hair was fashionably cut, and she was dressed in an impeccable business suit that still showed off her curves. Interestingly, Sandy dressed in an unusually conservative outfit; jeans and a sweater that managed to hide more than it showed. The two of them hung around until all the others left, and then Sandy did the introductions.
"Micky," insisted Michelle, and Micky it was. We arranged to meet in my office after Sandy's last class and to head off for an early dinner.
We settled into a booth in a local micro-brewery, sampling a variety of beers, including their delicious Oktoberfest. I was careful not to drink very much at all, as I was driving. But both Micky and Sandy enjoyed their drinks. Halfway through the meal, Sandy declared she was too warm, and slowly pulled her sweater over her head. I caught my breath, as the plunging neckline and thin spaghetti straps of her very summery top came into view. It was obvious that she wore no bra. I could hardly take my eyes off her full, round breasts, the gentle curves of her cleavage, and the hard nipples outlined perfectly by the soft, silken material of her blouse. If it had been white it would have been transparent. I am sure that only the fact that the blouse was navy blue saved us from being arrested on the spot.
Micky sat next to me in the booth and we talked about her lucrative real estate practice in one of Connecticut's most "toney" towns, and my research. Several times her hand dropped to my thigh, squeezing me as if to emphasize some point in the conversation. I yearned to return the favor, but resisted. At one point, she rubbed her thigh against mine ever so gently, but with enough pressure to have the expected effect. I started getting hard. Sandy kept smiling at both of us, at one point leaning back against the booth, her hands on the seat, and her chest thrust ever so slightly forward. I was mesmerized.
When Micky finally regained my attention, I was red in the face with embarrassment, and Sandy was laughing, her head shaking, and her breasts rising and falling with each deep breath.
"Isn't my daughter beautiful?" Micky asked, in a half-whisper.
"She certainly is," I answered quietly. And I couldn't help adding "But it's obvious where she gets her beauty from!"
"See Mom?" Sandy exclaimed, "I told you."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing, Mom didn't believe me when I told her what you said in your office." Somehow, given the fact that Micky's hand was now gently stroking my thigh, stopping only millimeters away from my aching cock, I didn't think she had any trouble believing. Sandy could see quite plainly the gentle movement of her mother's arm during the course of dinner, and seemed to be very happy about it. She also seemed to be quite aroused. By the time I paid the check --after insisting that I would not allow Micky to pay it—Sandy's nipples were hard as pebbles, her face and neck were flushed, and her breathing was shallow and rapid. Micky, in contrast, remained quite relaxed. I was not. I felt the way Sandy looked.
I had to adjust myself as we walked to parking lot. I noticed that Sandy was watching me and smiling. Micky just kept on talking. I held the front passenger door of my car open for her and, as she got in, she rubbed her hand slowly across my crotch, giving a gentle squeeze to my hardening cock.
"Nice," she whispered.
"Very nice," Sandy mouthed silently behind her, and smiled. I opened the rear door for Sandy and as she turned to get in she leaned forward and pressed her chest against mine. "Nice?" she asked in a whisper as her breasts pressed against me and her gorgeous deep blue eyes looked deep into mine.
"Very nice" I mouthed silently. As I walked around the back of the car, I had to adjust myself again, and this time a couple of coeds walking to a nearby car were watching. I was beyond embarrassment now, and into complete arousal.
As I sat behind the wheel and started up the car, I saw that Micky was turned toward me, with her back against the door. Her skirt was high on her thighs, which were quite open, revealing a small triangle of white lace panties. I pulled my eyes away from her crotch and saw her looking right into my eyes. She said nothing. She just smiled, and gently shook her head "yes".
"Why don't I drop Sandy off at her dorm and then take you to your hotel? It's on my way," I suggested.
"Actually," Sandy interjected from the backseat, "I'm staying with Mom at her hotel tonight. We're planning on doing some shopping together tomorrow. You can just drop us both at the hotel."
It was less than a 10 minute drive to the hotel, during which there was very little conversation. I kept stealing glances at Micky, who remained exposed. I also kept looking at Sandy in the rearview mirror. Every time I looked at her, she was smiling back at me. When we reached the hotel, I was about to pull into the main driveway when Micky suggested "Why don't you park the car and come up with us for a nightcap? I know you're driving, you can have something non-alcoholic."
I tried not to sound too eager as I accepted. "Why don't I drop you off, park the car, and meet you at your room?" I suggested.
"Sounds great," Micky replied, "room 600. See you in a few minutes!"
I knocked gently on the door of room 600.
