My Dirty Professor

by Cassandra Dee

  “Mr. Phillips, we’re seventy-five percent water!” answered Hannah, a brainy brunette with glasses as thick as goggles.

  “True, true,” he’d said thoughtfully, nodding. “What else?”

  “We’re meat sacks,” called out some jock from the back, cackling at his own joke. “Just blood and guts waiting to spill out.”

  Mr. Phillips had nodded at that one too.

  “That’s right. Any other ideas?” he’d responded.

  Slowly, I had raised my hand. Mr. Phillips’s deep blue eyes had turned toward me, and I’d shivered at the sensation. God, his gaze was so penetrating and arresting that I could hardly breathe, even though I tried not to show it.

  “Are-are we made of dust?” I’d stuttered, cursing myself silently. “I mean, after we die and all, we become dust again, right?”

  The smile Mr. Phillips flashed at my answer had taken my breath away.

  “You’ve got it,” he’d said with casual assurance. “We are all stardust. Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.”

  You see, that’s the type of teacher Mr. Phillips is. “We are all stardust”? It’s a cheesy line, but oh, so romantic and totally true too. I guess when people die (or when any living organism dies), we become dust once again, and it’s the same dust that makes up the stars in the sky. So his proclamation that “we are all stardust” was not only poetic but true. And I love how he’d tied it in with the biblical passage “ashes to ashes.” His smarts make me tingle all over.

  But yeah, Mr. Phillips isn’t just known for his smarts and his confidence in the classroom. He’s also known for his chiseled features and perfect bod, all of it displayed in khakis and a button-down most days. But his dad outfits can’t hide the perfect butt, the wide shoulders, and the broad chest that tapers to a narrow waist. He’s an Adonis come to life, and I’m not the only girl who has noticed.

  There is always a throng of teenage hussies surrounding him. Every Kim, Laura, and Mary has tried to get his attention, and to get those magnetic blue eyes onto their bodies. It’s downright embarrassing sometimes seeing how my female classmates throw themselves at him.

  Take Kim, for example. Today, as the bell rings to let the previous class out, the blonde rushes past everyone, battling against a stream of students, to shove her way to the front of the room. She plunks her books on a desk that’s front and center, and I can see why. She’s worn a tight white sweater that emphasizes every curve of her huge tits, the orbs bouncy and pendulous. Oh yeah, Mr. Phillips will get a good look at those girls today. How can he miss such a huge rack when it’s positioned right in front of him, its owner twirling her hair and making eyes while licking her pencil lasciviously?

  But Stone is better than that. He strides out of his office and into the room, confident and casual, totally professional with his dark hair slightly ruffled. His eyes don’t even graze Kim’s chest. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at that heart-stopping cleavage. Instead, our teacher smiles raffishly and flips open his lesson planner.

  “We’re going to talk about DNA today,” he announces. “What are nucleotides?”

  And believe or not, Mr. Phillips makes the discussion fascinating. An otherwise boring topic comes to life in the hands of our instructor. I’m picking up loads and loads of information so that I’ll be able to take the AP Biology exam at the end of the year even though this class isn’t actually an AP class. Mr. Phillips is just that good of a teacher. I know that with some extra study, I’ll be able to ace the test and get a jump on college while still in high school.

  But when the handsome man calls my name unexpectedly, I’m surprised and jerk in my seat.

  “Evie,” he says with a casual grin, “were you listening?”

  “Um, yes,” I reply, biting my lip and looking down while growing beet red. “Totally, yes.”

  “Okay, what did I just say then?”

  “Um,” here I bite my lip again. But fortunately, Mindy saves me with her frantic hand gestures. “You said that the exam’s going to be next week, and it’s going to cover Chapter Seven,” I parrot. Incredible that I know Mindy so well that she can transmit such detailed information to me, but we aren’t able to pull one on Mr. Phillips. He can see her gestures. We’re only fifteen feet away, after all.

  “That’s right,” he says. “But may I speak to the both of you after class today?”

  Mindy spins around to face forward with a shocked look, making me giggle a little. My friend is such a drama queen. It had been obvious that she’d been signaling to me, but she wasn’t about to let that hold her back.

  “B-but I didn’t do anything,” she wails piteously.

  “How’d you know I was talking to you then?” rumbles Mr. Phillips wryly.

  “I-I didn’t do anythiiiiing!” Mindy wails again. And maybe it’s the tears welling in her eyes, or the way her chin is trembling and shaking, but suddenly, my friend is off the hook, and I’m the only one who has to stay after.

  So when the bell rings, I gather my books nervously, my heart beating a million miles a minute. My classmates brush past me, and I keep my head down, biting my lip while looking around.

  “Don’t be too long,” whispers Mindy under her breath. “I’ll save you a seat at lunch, and you can tell me all about Homecoming.”

  That makes me color because Homecoming had been awesome. I’d had an unforgettable session with my kumquat in the privacy of a darkened hallway, spilling my juices while moaning to the high heavens. And the best part was that I’d been fantasizing about Mr. Phillips the entire time. Yep, my unsuspecting biology teacher has no idea that he’d been the source of an ecstasy-driven orgasm, a little fruit mixing with his handsome face to bring me to heaven again and again.

  Coming back to the present, I bite my lip and look around … and find Mr. Phillips staring at me, his eyes knowing and warm, like he can read my mind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Stone

  Evie is downright gorgeous. She’s shy but an absolute stunner. The girl is curvy everywhere, with big boobs, a round ass, and wide, swinging hips that make my mouth water as she walks toward me.

  Because how can I not notice? The brunette is nothing like the silly ditzes who throw themselves at me all of the time. Take Kim, for instance. The blonde thinks she’s so sexy with her long golden hair and huge tits, but she’s actually kind of gross. She looks like Rapunzel on drugs. And the tits? Kim is the proverbial tits on a stick. She has a huge set of D’s bolted onto a scrawny body.

  I hate that look. It might be popular with some guys, but an underweight skeleton accessorized by huge water balloons just isn’t for me. I like fleshy and real, a juicy ass to grab, huge handfuls of breast, and chunky thighs to bite into. So Kim is borderline gross in my viewpoint, which makes it all the worse that she sits up front each day, batting her eyelashes furiously at me.

  But the girl I really want to know has just made things easy for me. Evie is standing nervously by my desk, her hands crossed in front of her, shyly ducking her head. Her hair is glorious, a mass of beautiful brunette curls. What would it feel like to run my hands through the shining fall and wrap a strand or two around my dick? But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  “So,” I begin casually, leaning back in my chair. “I hear you’re aiming to take the AP exam at the end of the year.”

  “Um yeah,” she says, biting her lip, her cheeks slightly pink. “But it’s not because your class is bad or anything, Mr. Phillips. It’s because I’m learning so much that I figure I might be able to pass the exam with just a little extra studying.”

  My eyebrows shoot up.

  “Just a little extra?” I ask. “The AP exam is really tough, and my class is regular biology, not advanced placement. How are you going to pass that thing, much less get a five?” A five is the highest score you can get.

  “Well,” Evie hums, looking hesitantly at me. “My parents have offered to spring for a tutor. Sort of,” she corrects herself. “I have to pay for some of the sessions myself.�
�

  My eyebrows raise again.

  “Biology tutors don’t come cheap,” I rumble casually. “A colleague of mine tutors on the side, but he charges 150 bucks a pop. That’s 150 bucks per hour,” I stress.

  And at that news, the beautiful girl’s face falls.

  “Oh I didn’t realize,” she mumbles, looking down. “I thought it would be fifteen dollars an hour, maybe twenty. My family can’t afford a hundred and fifty, not even if I chip in. We’re a working class family, and my parents are already stretching their budget to send me to Spencer. So I guess it’s not going to happen,” she concludes, embarrassed, looking down.

  I’m silent for a moment before speaking again.

  “Well,” I say smoothly, “I’d like to help. How about if I tutor you? Say some extra sessions after school until you take the test?”

  The brunette’s eyes fly open, the caramel pools so warm and hopeful that I almost drown in the molten chocolate.

  “Oh, would you?” she exclaims hopefully. But then she pauses, a little confused. “But why? I don’t get it; you won’t get anything out of tutoring me.”

  I keep my expression impassive.

  “That’s not true,” I correct gently. “It reflects well on me if a student of mine takes an advanced exam and passes with flying colors. It speaks to my effectiveness as an instructor, and maybe,” I shrug, “they’ll consider it when it comes to my reviews.”

  I don’t add that I don’t plan on staying at the school much longer, so reviews are pretty much a moot point. The little girl doesn’t need to know that.

  Evie bites her lip.

  “I guess that makes sense,” she says slowly. “And if I do well, maybe Spencer Prep will funnel some resources into the biology department. They’ll see that students are really motivated and help you buy some new supplies, some new plants, that kind of stuff,” she continues, still biting her lip. Is she thinking of the kumquat tree I keep outside the classroom in a big pot? The delicious fruit, golden orange and ripe? I definitely hope so; we’ll be getting to that soon enough. But for now, Evie’s eyes are filled with hope.

  “Would you, Mr. Phillips? If you tutor me, it would make all of the difference.” She explains, “I want to be a doctor, and this will help get my pre-med studies started. But,” and here her chin trembles, “my family can’t afford to pay you much,” she admits quietly. “Like I mentioned, we’re working class, and I’m actually only here because of a scholarship. We can’t afford someone as highly qualified as you are.”

  I steeple my hands under my chin thoughtfully.

  “Well, we can work something out,” I say smoothly, my face impassive as I lean back in the chair, casually handsome and in total control.

  “Oh, would you consider doing it for free?” the brunette asks, her eyes going wide with delight. “That would be so kind, Mr. Phillips!”

  I throw my head back and laugh.

  “Oh no, little girl, this isn’t going to be free. Not exactly,” I correct her casually. “We need to work out something in terms of payment.”

  And at that news, Evie looks at the floor again, her hands twisting into one another. The look on her face is crestfallen.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Phillips,” she says quietly. “My family doesn’t have much, and it’s tough to drum up more. Fifteen dollars would be the most we could afford, and I know that’s not enough for someone with your credentials.”

  At that, a wolfish grin comes over my face.

  “I’m not asking for anything from your family,” I rumble. “No, I figured the payment would come from you.”

  The brunette looks confused as she raises her head up to meet my gaze with puzzled eyes.

  “From me?” she asks quizzically. “I mean, I guess I could help you grade papers or do some filing. Or is there something else?” she questions, perplexed.

  I shake my head.

  “No, nothing like that. Grading papers would be a conflict of interest; you’d see other students’ grades. And I don’t have much filing to do,” I shrug. “But I do have something else in mind.”

  “But what?” she asks, her brow creased. “I mean, I’m still in high school, so I don’t exactly have any marketable skills,” she says wryly.

  And at those words, I pull the kumquat out of my pocket. The little globe is orange and juicy, shiny under the classroom lights. After Evie popped it out of her pussy, it had rolled down the darkened hallway to stop at my feet. I had surreptitiously picked it up and stowed it in my pocket until I got home, where I could smell the tang of her pussy juice and lick the little fruit while re-living what I’d just seen in my head.

  I can tell the brunette recognizes the fruit by the way her eyes go wide and her breasts start heaving with agitation.

  “Is this yours?” I ask casually, with a smile on my face, holding up the little fruit.

  The brunette’s shocked gasp is answer enough, and my body goes on alert, hungry suddenly … for what Evie has to offer.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Evie

  Oh god, oh god. What is that in Mr. Phillips’ hand? Oh god … can it be? I feel myself go hot, then cold, then hot again. My face flushes beet red, the heat spreading across my chest, while my hands and feet suddenly become clammy.

  I’d searched for the kumquat after my little session during Homecoming – had literally crawled on my hands and knees trying to find my lost fruit in that darkened hallway. But I’d come up empty and had finally given up, shrugging my shoulders. It was no big deal, I’d figured. It was just a piece of random fruit. The janitor would pick it up the next morning and trash it.

  Except that here it is now in Mr. Phillips’ fingers, and he’s smiling at me like he knows what I did.

  “Um,” I stutter nervously. “Doesn’t look familiar, no.”

  But the big man is smooth.

  “I think you know,” he rumbles deep in his chest, his blue eyes dancing. “Don’t pretend, little girl. I think it belongs to you.”

  “Um, it’s…it’s a baby orange?” I feign ignorance.

  Mr. Phillips just chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

  “I think you know what it is, Evie,” he growls, his eyes suddenly intent. “It’s a kumquat, and you know where it’s been.”

  At that, I flush again, probably turning an even deeper shade of red. Because it had been in my pussy. I’d moaned and screamed during my session, completely sure that I was alone. Sure that the thumping of the music had muffled any sounds I was making. But Mr. Phillips’ devilish grin is telling another truth – he’d seen the whole thing, and I’ve been outed. Oh my god.

  My lips are trembling – in fact, my whole body is trembling – as I turn pleading, brown eyes to him.

  “Please, Mr. Phillips,” I beg. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

  He just grins at me, his blue eyes gleaming.

  “Why would I tell anyone?” he drawls. “It made my day. My entire month, in fact.”

  I gasp. What is he saying? That seeing me in the hallway, nude, my pussy pulsing, had made his month? Could that be true? Surely not. But the way the air is tingling tells me that something has changed between us. Suddenly, we are more than just student and teacher, and this is more than a talk about AP exams and after-school tutoring. A bolt of lightning runs through my body, and I can tell he feels it too. Our conversation is suddenly supercharged; my cunt is moist, and my breasts are sensitive.

  Mr. Phillips’ eyes flick to my nipples as if drawn by a magnet. They look like rocks under my sweater, stiff and perky. Although it seems impossible, I actually blush a little more. I’d worn a tight top and a modest skirt today, a change from my usual jeans and t-shirt. I guess the release I’d gotten from my Homecoming masturbation session had made me feel devilish and sexy, and I hadn’t wanted to wear the same old, boring stuff anymore. So instead, I’d worn something sexy, form-fitting, and flirtatious.

  Except now, my nipples are clearly poking out through the cashmere. The material is so fine an
d so soft that it’s highlighting the protrusions. I curse internally. God, oh god, why is this happening to me now, of all times? I’d thought wearing the outfit would be a nice reminder of the fun I’d had Saturday night – a memento of sorts – except that now, I’m being betrayed by my own body.

  But Mr. Phillips is eating it up. He’s smiling knowingly again, his eyes gleaming and his chest and abs hard, as his gaze sweeps up and down my body. His gaze makes me tingle. My breath is suddenly short.

  “Like I said,” his voice suddenly sensuous and suggestive, “seeing you play with the kumquat, strumming yourself to a finish, was the highlight of my month.”

  I gasp again because he has finally put words to it. We are beyond innuendos and vague suggestions about what had happened. He’d said it. I’d “played with the kumquat” and “brought myself to a finish.” It’s totally true; I’d done all that … and more. I’d dreamed of him while fingering myself – imagining the big man touching me and running his dick in and out of my sweet spot. Tingling and shuddering, I had imaged his big cock doing the dirty with me and making me feel good.

  While I stand there in a sexual daze, my gorgeous teacher just chuckles again.

  “And, Evie, I loved witnessing it,” he rumbles, his eyes ravenous. Then he pushes back from his desk and leans back in his chair so that I can get a good look. “See what you do to me?” he asks, gesturing to his pants.

  Glancing at his lap, I gasp. The tent at his crotch is huge, and I mean really enormous. The way his penis is curved under the tight fabric looks painful; it’s almost bent over and wrapped around his waist the way it’s strained. My hands suddenly tremble as my mouth grows dry.

  “Oh my god, Mr. Phillips,” I whisper, concerned. “Are you okay?”

  He groans, his hand lightly caressing the rod through the twill material of his pants, running up and down its arched curve.

  “I will be,” he rumbles deep in his throat, “after you kiss it.”