**All characters are over the age of 18**
“He’s your professor!” I hiss incredulously to Lisa, who is staring out the window in a dreamlike trance. “Never mind what it would do to you if anyone found out. He could lose his job!”
“That’s why no one would find out. It’s not like you’re going to tattle on me,” Lisa says, sticking her tongue out at me. “He’s totally interested, Mel. We matched.”
“He probably doesn’t even know you’re his student. Your psych class has over a hundred kids in it.”
“Time to make myself known,” Lisa says, her eyes wild with determination.
“This is a bad idea,” I say, glancing over my computer so she can see me roll my eyes.
“You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” Lisa says, glancing down at her watch.
She logs off the computer across from me and starts gathering up her textbooks and binders. She shakes her coffee cup and tips the last sip back before tossing it into the closest bin. Lisa’s hair is wild today, tied up in a bun at the top of her head. Her blonde flyaway hairs are tucked under a tie-dye headband. She fiddles with the bar in her ear as she swings her backpack onto her shoulder and gives me a wink.
“Live a little, Mel. I can only hope you get to bag a professor before the semester is over. Maybe then you’ll stop fawning over Ryan’s weak dick game.”
“It’s not weak.”
“Ma’am, if you’re having to use your vibrator every single time he leaves, it’s weak. You’re not even getting one?!”
I stay silent and chew on the inside of my cheek. Lisa waves her hand like she’s made her final point (which she has) and heads towards the stairs to go get dinner. I sit, staring at the last page of a physics paper, seething. Lisa isn’t wrong. Ryan and I matched on Tinder like a month ago, but I don’t think I’ve left satisfied ever. Even the first time. Ryan always leaves my apartment in the glow of one or two orgasms and I spend the next twenty minutes fucking myself with a dildo wishing it was just as good.
I am sure I could find someone to replace Ryan, but my experience with boys here on campus is that very few of them know what they are doing.
There was Josh from Sigma Phi, who rubbed my clit with his thumb so hard it bruised. I couldn’t masturbate for a week because it hurt so bad. There was Dylan from Freeman House, whose pants I didn’t even get off before he came. Then Paul, who tried to stick it in my ass without lube or asking me.
I send the document to the printer without a conclusion and log off.
~ ~ ~
Dr. Aaron Saunders’ office is on the fourth floor of the science building. The guy has a D- rating on RateMyProfessor and I understand why. He gave me a C- on my last lab report and filled the text file with an endless sea of track changes. I don’t think there was a single line of my paper not in red text or having a line to comment on the side. Even my name had something wrong with it!
They require us to take a science course to fulfill general education requirements, but I got screwed out of every easy science course. So, here I am trudging up to his office at 4:30 pm on a Friday with an incomplete paper in hand ready to get my ass handed to me.
“Maybe… and I mean this with complete sincerity, Ms. Iles… maybe you should consider dropping this course and finding a new major. If you are finding the work in my class to be too challenging, you are not going to make it in upper-level courses.”
I can hear Dr. Saunders’ smooth voice through his cracked door. There’s a crinkling of papers and then the door flies open. A short girl with blue hair bursts out into the hallway, mascara running down her face from her tears. She doesn’t even look at me as she flees down the hallway and towards the stairwell. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
Do I need this class? Yes, but not specifically this one. I could drop the course and take an easier science class next semester, but we’re past the withdrawal period. So, I wouldn’t even get money back and I wouldn’t receive credit either. I’m not failing, but a 75 isn’t exactly boosting my GPA in any regard. I’m not a quitter either, so I could just coast by and pray the guy doesn’t hate me as much as everyone else.
Dr. Saunders’ greeting is about as warm as is humanly possible for him. He stands in a dark cotton long sleeve and a pair of dark denim jeans. He has blue eyes that are always hard and unwavering. It’s like being fixed under a dozen magnifying glasses in the sun. Every time he looks at me, it’s like I’m being pinned to my chair, pinned to my desk, and right now I’m pinned to this bench in the science hallway. I don’t want to be here and I definitely don’t need to be, but my academics are important… even if it’s a stupid GenEd class.
“Dr. Saunders,” I say, following him into his office and setting my bag down next to the chair. It’s still warm from Teary Eyes. If I cared enough about this class, I’d probably be an emotional wreck too.
“I can only hope this meeting goes better than your last one,” I say, digging my paper czech taxi porno out from between two binders.
He doesn’t say anything, just moves a stack of papers and a file from the middle of his desk. He takes a pen out, a fucking red pen as if my Track Change nightmare wasn’t over, and scans my report. I lean back in the chair, cross one leg over the other, and watch him start writing in the margins.
There’s nothing extraordinary about his office. In the English department, most of my professors’ offices look a bit like the inside of their brains. There are bookshelves overflowing on the floors and papers stacked on every surface. They have paintings or posters or notes from former students. Everything in their office feels personal, like each item (no matter how random) brings light into the office.
His office is about as neat as a hospital waiting room. There’s a bookshelf behind him and the books are alphabetized by the last name. I could run a finger along each shelf and leave no trace behind. There are no posters on the walls or pictures of a wife or kids or literally anything. His desk is immaculate. His calendar is centered on his desk. Even though it’s the end of October, there’s no coffee rings or spaghetti splatter on the paper. He has a basic metal pencil holder with exactly (1) sharpened pencil, (1) black Bic pen, and the (1) red gel ink pen currently in his hand. His computer monitor has up his email but then fades to a screensaver of the time: 4:35 pm.
It’s only been five fucking minutes?
“What major are you, Ms. Peters?” Aaron asks.
His voice sounds like what a smooth mahogany desk looks and feels like. It wraps around my name with such smoothness, I find myself staring at his eyes as they go from left to right.
“I’m an English major with two focuses in American and European Studies,” I say, staring blankly that him.
His lips twitch at the corners and he tries to cover it with a finger on his scruff. A wave of irritation comes over me and I look away. I want this half-hour to be over but I don’t dare to look at his computer again. I’ll probably be disappointed. Is this paper my best work? No. Am I a fucking physics major? Definitely not! I want to drill that stupid Bic pen straight into his hand.
“I have the same comments as your last report. Did you not read my comments?” he says as he recaps his pen. He slides the paper over to me and I stare at the chicken scratch and circles.
“I resubmitted the paper, didn’t I?” My voice is as dry as the air in this office.
“You are not a physics major,” he says, leaning back in his hair and placing his laced fingers in his lap.
“No,” I say, finally meeting his eyes. “And if you think you’re going to say something that makes me cry and storm out, you overestimate how much I care about this class.”
Aaron smirks, eyes drifting to the door behind me.
“I don’t bullshit in my class, Ms. Peters and I definitely don’t bullshit my students. She would not have survived this program. My honesty will save her.”
“How gracious of you,” I snap, pointing down to one of the comments. “Clarity? I can’t cut any more words out of this sentence.”
“Your paper lacks focus,” he says, matching my irritation now.
Aaron pulls himself closer to the desk, picks up his pen, and flips the paper around. In a fluid motion, he circles several points on the first and second pages. He reaches into a drawer to his right, pulls out a Sharpie, and draws a giant question mark on all seven pages. My mouth falls open and the office is suddenly twenty degrees warmer. He shuts the drawer firmly, slides the paper to me, and gives me that “well, anything else?” looks like an asshole.
“Are you kidding me?” I’m dumbfounded. “I’ve completed thesis work with grad students who gave me better feedback than this.”
“That’s great,” he says. “Maybe go ask them for more.”
Aaron is staring at me with that gaze that pins me to my chair. I’m staring back with an equally measured gaze, my jaw tense, and my heart beating fast. I want to throw the paper in his face, snap his stupid pencil, and storm off. But that’s what he’s looking for. It’s what he wants.
“You want me to drop this course, don’t you?”
“What?” The question takes him by surprise and there’s a flicker of offense before he shakes his head. “It is never my intention for a student to drop my classes, Ms. Peters.”
“So, you’re just an arrogant asshole all the time?”
The comment flies out of my mouth before I can grab it. Part of me is surprised, but the weight comes off my shoulders. Aaron stares unblinking at my face and then his lip twitches. I can’t settle. I want to ream him out for his shitty feedback, general attitude, and then rip the stick out of his ass. The other part of me wants to apologize, take my shitty feedback, and go submit my final draft.
“You think I’m arrogant?”
“It’s not just me,” I say, reaching for the paper.
I yank it from his desk in a huff and shove it into my backpack. The computer screen reads 4:45 defloration porno pm and I’m fine cutting this damn meeting shorter. I zip up my bag in silence while he sits there. His blue eyes track every moment I make.
“You should check your Rate My Professor page, Dr. Saunders. I think when they give you that fancy science award at the end of the semester, they should print you a certificate. ‘Harvard’s Most Hated Professor'” I say, staring in awe up at the ceiling before turning towards the door.
It closes in my face and I stand frozen, staring at the patterns in the wood. Aaron has a big hand and it lies flat against the door. He smells like dark roast coffee and cinnamon. He towers over me, leaving me in his shadow. His voice, that same smooth mahogany, is right by my ear.
“I asked if you think I am arrogant, Melinda.”
Live a little, Mel.
Lisa’s voice creeps into my brain and suddenly I am aware of my own body. My breathing is shallow and my mouth is dry. It’s so dry. Under my white button-up crop top and inside my bra, my nipples are painfully hard. My clit… oh god my clit is throbbing and I can feel how wet I am. I am wet! Because of my professor! The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as he breathes in my scent. My skin prickles. I’m going to start sweating soon if I don’t get out of here.
Do I even want to get out of here?
“Do you think I have an elevated sense of importance?” Aaron asks quietly, his other hand coming up to lay flat against the door. I am caged between two strong arms. I can feel him leaning into me, but there are only so many inches until I’m pressed against the door and his lips are on my shoulder anyway. His body is warm and his scent is intoxicating. I don’t want to close my eyes, but I feel like butter next to this man.
“Do you think…” One of his hands traces up from my wrist to my shoulder where he scoops my dark hair and moves it over the other shoulder. This frees up one side of my neck and he jumps at the chance to touch my bare skin. I do nothing. I say nothing. Here we are, professor and student, in the silence of his office, and he’s about to cross a line. “that I exaggerate my skills…”
My pussy clenches and I suck in a breath. He has me wetter and turned on than any guy I’ve been with. I’m trembling before this man has barely touched me!
When he does touch me, it’s on my hip. His hand comes down and he spins me around in one motion. My back is pressed immediately against the door and both hands on either side of my head brace him in front of me. He bends at the elbow, blue eyes boring into mine. This up-close, he’s quite handsome. Scruffy. Sharp nose. Curly hair he holds in place with gel. There’s a tiny gap in his teeth that I hadn’t noticed until now. He’s handsome…
“I can show you why I’m so confident in my abilities, Ms. Peters,” he says, his nose trailing the edge of my jaw until he’s inches from my lips. “You’ll need to tell me you want it though.”
I came into his office needing to get feedback on my paper and may be considering dropping the class entirely. I just need the science credit and I could wait until next semester. If I do this, we could both get in trouble. We’re risking a lot here right now, his job, my grade, his reputation, my academic status. He is delicious though and my brain is foggy. I can’t escape the fact that I am turned on. I want him. I want him more than any guy I’ve been with recently. He’s intoxicating and confident and forbidden. Christ… he’s forbidden.
“Yes,” I whisper, the word barely finding its way to my lips. “I want it. I want you.”
It surprises us both and Aaron stills. When his eyes meet mine, they are soft but burning with desire. His lips part and I see a hint of his pink tongue. It hides behind his shiny teeth, poking between the small gap, ready to be unleashed on me. His body closes the gap between us and his lips are on me.
He’s on me. I am on him. We’re quickly entangled together. His fingers are in my hair, holding my head still as his lips mash into mine. His other hand is lifting my leg up and hooking around his hip. My fingers grip the collar of his sweater, pulling him closer to me as our tongues tease and explore. His mouth is warm and clean and my tongue moves easily along his.
Without breaking our kiss, he lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist. He sets me down on his desk and holds up a finger. Methodically, Aaron picks up each stack on his desk and lays it neatly on the floor. Folders, papers, his calendar, his three writing utensils. I can’t help but laugh.
“I’d like to make a mess of you, not my office, Ms. Peters,” he says and comes to stand between my legs.
He cups my face and captures me in another kiss. My ankles hook behind his knees and I begin pulling his sweater out of his waistband. I am awake, alive. My skin is on fire because of his touch. He leans me back and I stare straight ahead to the cabinets on the wall. My head dangles, dark hair gathering on his desk chair. Aaron’s lips move across my jaw and draw a trail fake agents porno down my neck. He lifts my shirt up over my bra, squeezing my tits through the cups. I lift my head to watch him pull the cups down and expose my breasts. He groans. His fingers pinch and roll my nipples, sending pleasure through my core and straight down to my pussy.
“Are your nipples always this sensitive, Ms. Peters?” he asks, his scruff tickling my skin as he nips my breasts.
“I don’t know, Professor.”
“You don’t know?” he asks, genuine confusion in his eyes.
He tugs my nipples again and I moan. In fairness, no guy has spent this much attention on them. They might swipe them once or twice with their tongue, but they are quick to head down south. Aaron… he’s taking his time kissing every inch of my breasts. He grabs full handfuls and massages them. He hums as he traces a swirl over my breasts. His tongue is deliberate, tracing slowly and retreating into his delicious mouth just to wet my skin again. He’s like a hawk looking for prey, zeroing in on my swollen nipple poking straight out. When his mouth finally reaches it, I can barely feel his tongue. He’s like a ghost with his flicks, but every one tingles my clit. It throbs and I grip the edge of the desk tighter. I don’t know if my pussy has anything left, but I can feel the puddle in my panties. I might cum. He might make me cum just sucking on my nipples here on his desk.
But he stops and I groan in disagreement.
“Why?!” I whine, lifting my head again.
His trails kiss down my stomach, lighting up my skin with each brush of his lips. They don’t stop as his hands curve around my knees. He places my feet on the edge of his desk and I spread my legs for him. His eyes meet mine and he smirks.
“Feeling confident now?” he asks, kissing the inside of my left knee. “Pretty, little panties, Ms. Peters. These are my favorite…”
I glance down and blush. They’re a white and black plaid lace and sheer on my ass. I wore them with a short, plaid skirt without thinking. His thumb slides up the crotch and he chuckles. He nips the skin of my inner thigh, hand gripping my supple flesh as his mouth marches south of my knee towards my apex. I’m trying not to squirm. I don’t want him to think I’m uncomfortable, but if he doesn’t fucking touch me in…
“Wait,” I breathe, lifting my head as the wires connect in my brain. “Have you been checking me out this entire semester?”
Aaron rolls his eyes and I stare at him, mouth agape.
“Keep your mouth open like that and I will give you something to fill it,” he warns, biting down so hard on my thigh he leaves little indents. My clit throbs.
His thumb strokes up and down my slit over my panties. His touch tickles as he follows the curve where my leg meets my hip, following the edge of the fabric. Then, he slips his fingers in and pulls my panties up. I sigh as my panties rub deliciously against my skin and Aaron lightly tugs on it. My swollen pussy lips are barely contained in the crotch and he kisses my exposed bare outer lips. He leans back, pushing my skirt up to my waist to expose my entire bottom half to him.
“How am I doing so far, Ms. Peters?” Aaron asks me, amusement in his eyes. He’s enjoying having me laid out like this.
My panties relax and one of his fingers hooks into the edge and pulls them aside. He groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. It makes me lift my head to look at him. His gazes on me were usually cold and piercing, the kind that leaves me wondering if the guy even liked me to begin with. Right now, he’s looking at me with hunger. I am laid back on his desk in his office, my legs spread, and my pussy out for his viewing pleasure. I’m just a girl for him to use and fuck.
It is this thought as well as the slap he makes on my cunt that causes me to moan again.
“I hate that you sit in the fourth row of my class, Ms. Peters,” he says, pulling the chair I was sitting in earlier closer. His hands roughly push my legs open further and I feel the pull deep in my hamstrings. “That idiot dumbass with the orange coat blocks my view up your skirt.”
I want to laugh because I know exactly who he is talking about, but I am caught in the whirlwind of his admission. He’s wanted me this entire semester? Maybe just a few weeks?
His tongue starts on my puckered asshole. It makes three agonizing circles before lying flat and stroking up. We both moan as he tastes my sex. I thought God for showering this morning and for the opportunity to be getting my cunt eaten by my physics professor. What kind of karma did I put into the world for this moment?
“More delicious than I could have imagined…” he breathes and goes back to licking me as if I am melting. My pussy is the cone and he is licking my sweet cream off my skin.
He sucks my lips into his mouth and then moves a bit north, blowing on my clit. I jump in surprise and groan. His tongue swipes my clit left to right, left to right, and then draws a swirl over it. Like my tits, he is deliberate. He knows what he is doing and it will undo me on this desk. His tongue flicking and licking my clit will make me cum on his desk and on his face. I’m sure he knows that, but I can’t get the reality into my head. My professor, this dark, demeaning, often scary man, is eating my cunt like he’s dying.