(All persons engaged in sexual activity in this story are over 18 years old. Any similarities between this story and real people are purely coincidental)
I walked across campus to my office, intersecting with different streams of students as they hustled off to class. It was a beautiful, warm late September Friday in western Massachusetts. I was done teaching for the week, but it was Alumni Weekend and several students had emailed me asking to stop by my office to say hello. It was always a pleasure to see some of my former students and hear about their latest post-collegiate adventures and reminisce about the papers they wrote or book discussions they remembered. English majors all, most of them had taken my advanced 20th century literature seminar the previous spring semester.
I was keen on seeing one student in particular, Shannon Thorpe. She had emailed several weeks ago to tell me she hoped to see me Friday afternoon, rather than Saturday, when the other students planned to get to campus. I told her I would definitely be available to see her, even though she was the only reason I was on campus on a Friday. Shannon was one of those students you remembered right away. Smart, engaging, curious, a really good writer. But also sexy, mature beyond her early 20s. It was the rare undergraduate who turned me on. She was a willowy blonde, about 5'6'', a swimmer's body. During the last few weeks of the seminar last spring, right before she graduated, she had taken to wearing very short skirts and loose tops that let her breasts nearly spill out. Most times she didn't wear a bra, her nipples straining against the fabric of her blouses. It was hard not to stare. And I was used to forcing myself not to stare, especially in the late spring of western Mass when students began to shed their winter wear. Female students, like Shannon, increasingly showed flesh -- legs, arms, chests, feet, nearly everything.
But Shannon. Shannon was the only who made it hard not to just stare at her and marvel at her beauty, and her body. And she knew it. Which is why she became increasingly underdressed. Not slutty. Just refined in her sexiness. More performative. More provocative. She would sometimes linger after class, approaching me to ask a few questions about an assignment she already knew the answer to. On occasion I would be sitting on my desk at the front of the classroom when she came up to me to ask her question. She would stand in front of me, just feet away. If I extended my arm I could have touched her breasts. As the semester wore on, she got closer and closer. I could smell her peppermint gum. I could look into her eyes. I could look down her blouse if I had wanted to. And I did want to. It took every ounce of concentration not to look. After asking her question, she would say, "thanks doc," and turn to slowly walk out of the classroom, but not before bending over to pick up her books from her front row desk. And then she would turn her head, smile, and say, "see you later, doc." And of course she would catch me staring at her ass.
Yes, Shannon was quite a tease. It was especially hard to take given that my partner had left me for more lucrative pastures on the West Coast after the fall semester, getting a coveted endowed chair with all kinds of perks not available at my small college. I suppose I couldn't blame her, but it was still hard. Hard to be alone. Hard not to have sex anymore, surrounded by attractive young women I couldn't go near physically. I wasn't quite ready to date seriously, so I settled into a routine of working all the time and enjoying occasional fantasies of stuffing my cock and tongue into Shannon's delicious holes.
So when I saw her email in my inbox I thought back to last spring's seminar and those increasingly close encounters. I pictured her that final day of class, wearing a short skirt, pale blue I think, and a white top, with several buttons open. She looked radiant, the sun streaming into the big windows to illuminate her in the front row. And of course she gave a terrific presentation on The Great Gatsby, which added to her allure. As I listened to her talk, knowing that it was the last time I was going to see her, I had had to suppress thoughts of diving between her legs to ravish her cunt and then bending her over my desk to fuck her from behind until I spurted all over her ass, months of pent-up desire released in a shower of cum. But I would see her one more time, it turned out. Today. In my office. Another close encounter with Shannon.
We had a 4:00 appointment, a time on Friday when most students, faculty and staff would have cleared out. I sat in my office, both excited and anxious. Excited to see her again, anxious about what she wanted from the visit. Just a quick chat before she headed off to some party, meet up with an old boyfriend, ask for a letter of recommendation? In any case, she would be in and out in 20 minutes and then I'd be free to head home and jerk off to the thought of her hot body, one final time. As I had that morning to reduce the possibility of springing an erection when I saw her in one of her sexy outfits. Despite that morning exercise, my penis stiffened at the thought of her body and what I wanted to do to her. I turned to a pile of essays to ease the pressure.
When 4:00 pm rolled around and edged toward 4:15 I figured she had blown me off, one more Shannon Thorpe tease. She knew what she did to me last spring, she knew she turned me on with her end of class act. But then she walked in the door. Shannon Thorpe, in the flesh. Rather, Shannon Thorpe, her curves covered in a long blue sundress and a pink sweater, no flesh visible except for hands and face.
"Hello Professor Martin. I'm so sorry for being late. I had trouble finding a parking space," she said, nearly out of breath.
"No worries, Ms. Thorpe," I replied, smiling. "I was just grading some papers."
"Thanks for meeting me today. I know you don't normally come to campus on Fridays."
"Happy to. It's good to see you again."
"It's good to see you again, doc," she said, giving me one of those big smiles she used
to give me as she left the classroom.
"Please, have a seat," I said, motioning to the chair in front of my desk.
I got up from my desk chair and sat across from her in another chair; better for an informal conversation.
We stared at each other for a few moments before she spoke again.
"I wanted to see you for a few reasons, professor. First of all, I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to write a letter of recommendation for me. I'm applying to MFA programs in creative writing and I thought a letter from you would be really helpful."
"Of course, I'd be happy to write in support of your applications," I said, expecting the request. "You were one of my best students last semester. I'm glad you're thinking of getting an MFA You're a terrific writer."
"Thank you. I'm so happy to hear you'll do that for me. And relieved," she said, looking down at her hands, resting on her knees.
"Why relieved?" I asked, not sure where this was going.
She hesitated for a moment before looking up at me. "Because I acted like such a slut last spring. I'm sure you thought I was a flirt, wearing those short skirts, no bra. Just another coed driving the horny professor crazy." She stopped talking and looked down at her hands again.
"The truth is, professor, I had a mad crush on you," she said, looking up at me again, her eyes widening. "I thought maybe I could seduce you, especially after I heard that your wife left for California. So anyway, that's why I'm relieved you'll be willing to write for me."
I didn't say anything for a moment, but just stared at here, taking in her beauty, her scent, her body, encased as it was in a dress.
"Well, if we're being honest here, Shannon, just two adults talking, you were a tease. And you did drive me crazy."
She looked at me and smiled. "So you did find me attractive! Sometimes I couldn't tell, you were so cool about it." She took off her sweater, saying it was a bit hot in my office. Her breasts strained against her sundress, no bra visible under the light gauze fabric.
I glanced at her chest for a moment before moving back to her face.
"Indeed, continuing on the honest track, I did find you very attractive. In fact, I thought you were the most attractive woman on campus."
"So you did want me. You did want to have sex with me," she said, staring at me.
"I did, more than anything. But college policy prohibits such things."
"I see. Well, while we're being honest with each other, doc, sometimes I left class so frisky I used to masturbate in the bathroom, fantasizing about getting on my knees and blowing you while you lectured on Camus or Mailer. And then I started to write erotic short stories of us having sex together, using my creative writing skills to express my desires. And then I'd masturbate while re-reading the stories. I didn't have much sex in college, so I turned to writing as an outlet."
She stopped, her mouth half open. "I can't believe I'm telling you this," she said,
looking embarrassed.
"It's OK," I said, not wanting the true confessions, or the visit, to end. "It's good to talk about it. I did the same thing."
