My Dirty Professor
~A Teacher Student Forbidden Romance~
~The Dirty Series~
© 2019
By Cassandra Dee and Kendall Blake
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DEDICATION
For everyone who’s had a crush on a hunky professor.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Hi! Thanks so much for reading My Dirty Professor. I hope you enjoy Evie’s tale of finding love in the classroom.
Happy reading,
Love,
Cassie
ABOUT THIS BOOK
Evie needs some discipline, and Mr. Phillips is just the man to teach her a lesson.
When Mr. Phillips asked me to stay after class one day, I thought nothing of it. After all, he was my biology professor - smart, handsome, and with a great body to boot. But after everyone else left, things started getting interesting.
Because Mr. Phillips drew all the shades …
Locked the classroom door …
And ordered me to kneel …
And when he pulled out a large, green cucumber, I gasped because the only thing I could say was, “Teacher, YES!”
Hey Readers - Teaser got you excited? Then get ready for a fun-filled forbidden adventure in the classroom. Guaranteed HEA with no cliffhangers and no cheating. Enjoy! Xoxo, Cassie
TABLE OF CONTENTS
My Dirty Professor
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
A Sneak Peek: Their Secret
A Sneak Peek: Beg Me
A Sneak Peek: Pregnant By My Boss
A Sneak Peek: Client Number 6
MORE BY CASSANDRA DEE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
Evie
Clutching my books to my chest, I walk down the hallway self-consciously. My girls are so huge that sometimes I’m embarrassed if I don’t cover them somehow. So I often hug my books to me tightly, like a shield against … what, I’m not sure.
Because I’m a curvy brunette with a couple of extra pounds. Okay, you caught me -- it’s more than a couple of extra pounds. I’m generously proportioned, with big boobs; wide, swaying hips; and an ass that you could serve a meal on. I can’t help it. Just last year, I was normal -- skinny even -- but overnight, my new figure popped out, and I’m still not used to the Jessica Rabbit proportions.
Take last week, for example. I’d wandered down the hall past some meathead jocks. They were guys from the football team, and usually, it’s no big deal when I pass by them in the hallway. I’m used to being an invisible girl; probably half of the kids at my school wouldn’t be able to pick me out from a crowd. Except it was different this time. As I skulked by, chin down, the guys began nudging each other and whispering before one finally spoke.
“Nice rack,” Chip McCreighton had grunted. “Hubba hubba.”
I’d colored and picked up the pace so that I was practically speed walking before I rounded the corner and skidded to a stop. Once out of view of the jocks, I had taken a deep breath. The attention had felt so strange. I could still feel their male eyes on my ass, my back, my thighs, and my boobs. I’d thought it would feel demoralizing to be catcalled, but instead, it just felt … different. Like a tingly, shivery, and shaky kind of different. Sort of exciting, if I were to be honest about it. It was nice to have guys appreciate my assets, especially after years where I was nothing but a shadow. So I had flushed, bitten my lip, and floated down the hall with my head in the clouds, savoring the experience and storing the memory for long nights alone in my bed.
But even my new-found figure couldn’t get me a date for Homecoming. Oh no, I’m going stag because there’s no one waiting at the door with a corsage and a cheesy smile. I’ve resigned myself to getting ready with my friend Mindy as she waits for her boyfriend Homer to pick her up.
Homer is okay. He and Mindy have been “dating” since fifth grade. Homer is a gamer type. His latest fascination is Candy Crush Wild, which I think is a little juvenile for high school, but I guess Mindy doesn’t mind.
“Oh my god! I’m so excited! Homer said he’s going to get me a corsage!” Mindy babbles. “I told him purple since my dress is purple.”
I laugh a little because Mindy is so ridiculous. It isn’t just her dress that’s purple. She has purple eyeshadow, purple shoes, and a purple necklace, too. If you ask me, her attire might well earn her the nickname the Incredible Purple Walking Girl for the remainder of high school. But I bite down on my laugh and smile encouragingly.
“You look great,” I gush. “Homer’s going to love it.”
A little white lie has never killed anyone; besides, Mindy eats it up.
“I know. Look,” she giggles before pulling her dress up and flashing her undies – which, of course, are an eye-searing shade of violet.
“Oh my god,” I exclaim, stifling my laugh. “Those look really fancy. Where’d you get them?”
“Coeur de L’Amour,” she replies smugly, referring to a fancy French boutique in our neighborhood which sells all sorts of racy and lacy underthings. “I went there after school and picked up some stuff. Hope I’ll be able to use it tonight,” she murmurs wickedly.
Internally, I’m grossed out because Homer has a raging case of teen acne. It’s the kind that seeps fluid, and I wouldn’t be able to get up close and personal with the gangly boy myself, even if you paid me. But more power to Mindy if that’s what she wants. Different strokes for different folks, after all.
“I’m sure he’ll love it,” I say reassuringly. “What guy wouldn’t? You look amazing.”
“Really? Thanks, Eves. You’re a doll,” she adds, staring at herself in the mirror critically before deciding to apply another coat of blush. “What about you?” she asks, never taking her eyes off of her reflection. “What are your plans?” My best friend sucks in her cheeks so that she looks like a fish before carefully applying the additional make-up.
I blush. “Well, after you leave with Homer, I’m going to drive myself to the dance,” I mumble.
“What?” Mindy murmurs absentmindedly. Now she is reapplying lip gloss, in the color purple of course.
“I said I’m going to go by myself,” I say loudly this time. “It’s no big deal; I can handle it.”
That gets her attention.
“Of course,” placates my friend with a pitying smile. “It’ll be fine. Tons of people are going stag. You just have to find the right crowd to hang around, and you’ll have a ball. Look for me in the auditorium when you get there. You know you can always hang out with me and Homer.”
I smile gratefully, except that I know she’s just being kind. Mindy wants to get down and dirty with her boyfriend tonight. They don’t really want me hanging around like an unwanted third wheel. I would just ruin e
verything for them. So I hem and haw until she leaves. Then I decide to do something wicked to make myself feel better.
I know … I hardly give off the impression that I’m naughty. Really, I’m a good girl who goes to class and does her homework – not the type of person you’d pick out for some dirty no-no. But I’m dreading the dance so much that I settle on a little something to help me through the night.
I roll the ‘little something’ – a kumquat – around with my fingers, feeling the smooth, olive-sized orb. The skin is an almost fluorescent shade of orange. Oh my god, says the voice in my head. Are you really going to be that dirty, girl?
I nod resolutely. I’d picked the kumquat from the tree outside the biology classroom; it’s my little savior. This dance is going to be no fun, and I need a filthy secret, a little something to keep me going. So I pull down my panties, edging the lace over my hips, and squat a bit, opening up my pussy. Taking the little fruit in hand, I slip it over my pussy lips, warming it up and letting the smooth orb massage my private place. Fortunately, I’m already wet because my pussy is generous with the cream.
I take a deep breath and squat a little more, bending at the knees. Gripping the fruit between two fingers, I slowly push it into my hole. It feels so good, I let out a breathy gasp. I’m a virgin, so I’m really tight down there, but the kumquat is small, and I’m able to slide it in without too much effort.
Bending over, I look down. Oh yeah, it looks unreal. The kumquat is right at my opening, and you can see a bit of orange peeping out from between my naked pussy lips. To make sure it will stay in through the dancing, I push it in a bit further so that my labia closes around the fruit comfortably. It’s the perfect pink prison – pristine and precious. Nothing looks out of place.
Straightening, I smile a secret smile and wiggle my ass a little. The orb inside rolls sensuously, making me gasp involuntarily as shivers run from my cunt and spread through my lower pelvic area. Oh my god, am I really ready to get down with this little toy in my pussy? Am I really going to go to a school event with a piece of fruit buried in my insides?
But it feels good, and smiling that wicked smile again, I shake my hips once more for effect. Oh god, that’s amazing. I can hardly keep from moaning aloud. My eyes fall closed as the toy rolls within my internal channel, massaging my wet cunt. Oh wow … this is going to be the best school dance ever.
CHAPTER TWO
Stone
I round the corner, coming to a deserted hallway. Looking around to make sure I’m alone, I shake a cigarette out of the pack and furtively light up before taking a deep, satisfying drag. I make sure to exhale out an open window even though there’s no one around.
My shoulders slump because it fucking sucks being here on a Saturday night. All of the teachers at Spencer Prep are expected to put in some “service” in addition to our teaching duties, and mine is chaperoning this lame teenage dance. I can hear the thump of music coming from the auditorium. It’s some dude chanting about hos and gangstas. Not exactly my taste, although judging from the screaming teens, someone definitely likes it.
Come to think of it, the rhythm is kind of catchy, even if the lyrics are ridiculous. The squeals of various girls ring out as they twist against their teenage boyfriends, gyrating and humping on the dance floor. I shrug. Hey, this is a high school function and a safe place to grind in front of the eyes of guidance counselors, teachers, and our vice principal. Besides, I just want some peace for my nicotine fix. The kids can get nasty all they want, as long as they leave me alone.
Strolling quietly, I wander farther down the hall into a dimly lit area and gaze moodily out of a window. Spencer Prep is a fancy high school in Manhattan. It’s a place where parents pay forty thousand dollars to send their kids to take classes like Modern European Civilizations, AP Geometry, and Conversational Mandarin. Meanwhile, I’m just a plain old biology teacher. Not even AP, just regular. How I got hired, I have no idea, except that there are some kids here who definitely need a steady hand. These kids are left alone way too much, with far too many resources at their fingertips and not a single adult on the horizon.
But I shrug. My wandering foot is itching, and I’ll probably only be at Spencer another year or so before I look into something different. Maybe biotech. That’s a burgeoning field, what with DNA sequencing and GMO foods in the spotlight. The switch in career would drastic since I’d have to transition from the classroom to a corporate gig, but this is as good a time as many to make the change. Besides, I have some personal projects on the side to manage anyhow.
Lost in my thoughts, I take another drag and wander deeper into the shadows. The lights are dim in the corridor, and my footsteps are the only sound in the deserted hallway. Except that something else catches my ear just then – a small scuffle and then a squeak. What the hell? Is there a mouse somewhere in these hallowed halls? A family of mice?
Then the sound comes again. Another squeak, this time louder, accompanied by a wet, popping sound. WTF is going on? Are there kids here making out on the sly? Honestly, I’m not interested in catching them. They can sex it up for all I care, but at the same time, I’m curious. Who can it be?
I tiptoe farther until the dimly lit passageway branches to the left. And around the corner, I finally see the illicit mouse.
But it’s a girl.
A curvy, delicious girl, kneeling on her knees off to the side with her dress hitched up over her hips and her panties down around her ankles.
Her ass and pussy are bare, facing me, as she plays with herself. The wet folds are pink and delicious, gleaming under the low lights as another squeal rings out. The girl’s moaning is breathy and hoarse as she niggles her clit.
Oh god, the view is fucking amazing. The brunette’s giant jugs have fallen out of her dress and are practically dragging on the floor because they’re so enormous. And her rump is like a dream come true. Heart-shaped and huge, with two white fleshy orbs that jiggle and shake as she fingers herself. The dim light makes them look almost fluorescent in the darkness.
By now, I have my dick out, my mast at full-length and punching forward like a ramrod. I watch, ravenous, as the brunette gasps and sighs, her fingers pinching her clit and then rubbing circles around the stiff nub. Her ass waves in the air, those big orbs bouncing as her anus winks ever so slightly.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck. The girl’s fingers dip lower, lightly touching her hole before circling it, the cream running wetly from that dirty, delicious place. It streams down her thighs; there’s so much fluid. I imagine her pushing some digits into that sweet vaginal passage. It’s the only reasonable conclusion.
But instead, the girl pulls her cunt lips apart, spreading them. My breath catches as I’m suddenly granted a peek up her secret passage, so pink, wet, and swollen.
Except her pussy isn’t empty.
Oh no, there’s something jammed inside her pussy. I squint, my hand working like a maniac up and down my dick as I try to see what is buried there. What the hell? What can it be? I can make out something orange. Maybe it’s an orange toy of some sort? A little orange tampon that has gotten trapped up there somehow?
But the girl just moans and pants, her cheek pressed against the cold hallway floor, and lightly rubs her pussy again before hooking a finger in and popping out the orange object with a long moan. Oh fuck. The item drops to the floor and bounces a bit toward me. I finally see what it is.
It’s a kumquat. A tiny fruit the shape of an olive, with bright neon-colored skin just like a real orange. Fleshy and round … and perfect for inserting into a girl’s pussy. It must have been her little secret.
And now that it’s out, the brunette is going at her clit like crazy, rubbing up and down, massaging the stiff nub in circles, her hand like a motor as her hole drips juice. Cream runs wetly down her thighs.
With a moan, a squeal, and a long gasp of “Ah ah ahs!” the girl comes hard, her pussy and ass clenching with ecstasy. Waves of pleasure seize her curvy body as her scream rings out in
the empty hallway.
I’m ready to blast now as well. I want so badly to ram my dick hard into that swollen cunt, the miles of sweet, creamy flesh beckoning to me. Except I stop myself because the girl suddenly lifts her head and sighs, giving me a glimpse of that sweet face.
It’s Evie Jones from my biology class. Sweet, sweet Evie with the curvy bod, the shy smile, and the big brown eyes that trail me as I lecture. I’ve always liked her. I appreciate her thoughtful ways and her quiet demeanor – so different from a lot of the spoiled kids at Spencer. My night has just been made upon discovering one of my most beautiful students in such a compromising position.
Until common sense strikes me like a blow to the head. I can’t let Evie know I’ve seen her. This isn’t the time. So, gritting my teeth, I force my dick back in my pants. The bulge is so fucking painful, I’m not sure how I’m going to chaperone the rest of the night. But force it in I do, and with a yank of my zipper, I imprison the poor guy even as I stare at Evie’s round butt and gleaming pink bits, still dripping as she recovers from her orgasm.
I can’t let her know I’ve seen her enjoy herself. Not just yet. But I have plans for the sweet brunette because I’m no saint. No, I’m a teacher, and my favorite student is about to get a giant surprise.
CHAPTER THREE
Evie
Biology is my favorite subject, and it’s not just because I want to be pre-med. It’s because Stone Phillips, or Mr. Phillips as we call him, is an amazing instructor, making even the most difficult concepts seem cool. Just yesterday, in fact, we had a discussion in class about the biological makeup of humans.
“Everyone,” he’d said in that low growl of his. “What are we made of?”
A couple of students had yawned at that point, but a few girls had raised their hands, eager to get his attention.
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