Ms. Nadine Johnson definitely stood out from the crowd of my 100+, mostly first-year, college students. In politically correct terms, she would be described as a "non-traditional" student, meaning older, and probably attending school part-time. I later learned that she was 42, married, with no kids.
I noticed Ms. Johnson on the very first day of class in the fall semester. Although she sat up high in the very back of the lecture room, her stunningly beautiful, shoulder length, darkish blond hair and the stylish black business suit she wore, clearly marked her as a working woman, probably taking just this class before going to the office. Intrigued by her sensual good looks and wondering about her overall situation and why she was even in my course, I kept hoping to meet her. For the entire fall semester, however, I only saw her during class.
She always sat in the same spot and was similarly dressed. During exams and quizzes, I'd walk around the room, keeping my eye on her as much as possible, wondering about her, and, yes, lusting after her. Nadine was about 5'4" or 5'5", thin and athletic looking (as I guessed, correctly, a distance runner), with very small breasts and long, absolutely gorgeous legs. I wondered if she was the type of woman who enjoyed sexy, expensive lingerie even under her business attire. I certainly fantasized about her dressed in that way. In my mind, she never wore pantyhose, but rather, thigh highs with lacy tops or stockings and a black garter belt along with skimpy, black, lace or sheer panties, and a matching bra. My cock was always hard on those days when I could study her like that as she concentrated on the test questions.
I certainly wasn't the only one in class who watched and wondered about Nadine. Once, after she picked up a returned quiz before class, I focused on her tight ass and nylon-clad legs as she walked slowly up the stairs to her seat. Most of the 19-year old guys in the class were also staring at her and I wondered how many loads of boy cum would be produced that night because of her. In my case, however, the self-pleasure session took place in my office right after class.
Mine is a tough class and, like many students, Ms. Johnson worked hard but could never seem to make it out of the C range. I hoped that she would come by for help during office hours, or at least e-mail me with questions, but she never did, not during the fall anyway. In the spring semester, however, things were very different. She obviously had quit working or at least changed jobs since she began wearing jeans or casual skirts and simple blouses or T-shirts to class. She also started to visit me during afternoon office hours for help with the course material. We usually talked about other things as well and gradually got to know each other. By mid-term, I felt that I had become an on-campus friend, not just one of her professors.
It turned out that she had quit her legal assistant job after 15 years. "I woke up one day and decided that I really didn't like lawyers," she explained once to me. She had returned to school full-time, majoring in a completely different subject for which my course was an associated requirement. Again she worked very hard and earned the same grade with which she was quite pleased, especially having been away from school for so long. Things changed again when Nadine came to my office late one afternoon about a week after the spring term ended.
She stopped at my office saying, "Hi, remember me, your old, non-traditional student? I just wanted to come by and thank you for putting up with me this semester and, especially, for being such a terrific teacher. I never would have passed without all of your help."
I smiled and said, "Hi, Nadine, please come in." I motioned for her to sit in the guest chair near me, and offered her a soft drink. It quickly turned into one of our typically enjoyable conversations but it seemed more relaxed without the professor-student thing hanging over us. Nevertheless, at one point, the thought of us being two married people alone in a rather private situation occurred to me. Looking into her eyes at that moment, I sensed that she might be thinking the same way.
In any event, as we continued talking, I couldn't stop thinking how good she looked and how physically attracted I was to her. I also couldn't help but look at those sexy legs so nicely displayed as she sat there, legs crossed. The hem-line of her denim mini-skirt (which seemed considerably shorter than she usually wore) was high up on her firm, thin thighs. Her top was a simple, pink cotton T-shirt which I also thought was tighter than normal for her. It was quite obvious that, under the thin material, her perky little breasts were naked. She certainly needed no bra to support those sweet little things.
