When I was 19, I was consumed by sex.
It was all I thought about, and some days, it was all I did.
I had fucked and played my way through several of the boys and more than a handful of girls in my small, private, Catholic college and was bored with, or uninterested in, the left over options. I frittered away the summer between first and second year, mostly staying home with my parents, finding new and exciting opportunities to exhibit my tight little body in my boring home town.
When I received my upcoming class schedule in the mail, I was excited to see that my Ethics course was being taught that semester by the new philosophy professor, Dr. Young. I had noticed him the previous semester when he stopped me in the quad and asked me where the admin office was. Even though he was not my usual 'type' (rough, edgy, blue collar men), I was immediately attracted to him. He was tall, with almost black hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. His navy suit and uncalloused hands pegged him as faculty like nothing else could, but his deep and raspy voice had been like a hot tongue on my pussy, and I could feel myself throb slightly at the memory of it.
A few weeks later, I was driving back to campus, all my earthly possessions crammed into my car, radio blaring, and thoughts of Dr. Young rolling around in my head. He was going to be my school project. I had set my sights on him, and my plans to have him in my bed by the end of term were taking shape. I had decided on the bold approach, rationalizing that there was no need to be coy when I already knew what I wanted. I saw no shame in it, as we were both adults, and I was more than well-versed in sexual chemistry. I smiled to myself and hit the accelerator, eager to begin the game.
The first day of class, I made sure to wear a very short skirt, and a tight t shirt, with no bra or panties. I wanted to leave nothing to chance, no reason for him to think he was misreading the signals I was going to be sending. Because of the small size of the college, classes were held in classrooms rather than larger lecture halls, and I selected a seat right in front, slightly to the left of the lectern. He smiled and gave me a head nod of recognition as I sat down, legs crossed, and took out my pen and paper, ever the eager student. Other students filed in, and after 3 or 4 minutes, he cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention. He introduced himself and then ran down the attendance list, matching names with faces. Passing out the syllabus, he explained the course expectations for the semester, gave out his contact information, and all the other usual introductory things.
At last, he went behind the lectern and began outlining Wittgenstein's theory and after making eye contact with him, I sat further back in my seat and opened my legs, giving him an uninterrupted view of my bare pussy. His voice dried up mid-sentence and he looked for a minute like he was choking to death, but then recovered and picked up where he left off, his eyes never leaving my now throbbing cunt.