by Amy Brent
Innuendo and subtle hints were for people with far more tact and self-control than I had. If I wanted a man, I went for it. What’s the worst he could do? Say no?
You wanna know how many men have turned me down?
Zero. Thank you very much.
The only question in my mind was, which teacher would I be fucking next.
CHAPTER TWO: Professor Holden Moss
I know, I know… I shouldn’t sleep—or have sex with—my students.
I know, I know… it could get me fired and possibly arrested.
I know, yes… I’m old enough to be her…
Older brother, maybe, but come on, have you seen this girl?
Holy hot babes, Batman.
Who could resist this girl?
Haley… Haley… something or other…
She sits down front in my Advanced Psychology class every Friday at three.
Always wears a short skirt that she doesn’t bother tugging down over her crotch when she sits.
Tan, toned legs.
High heels.
Bright red toenails.
Sits with her legs spread.
Doesn’t wear panties.
Keeps her pussy shaved clean.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
If you could resist that, my friend, you’re a better man than me.
Haley... what the hell is her name... ROGERS! That’s it. Haley Rogers is a twenty-two-year old, walking, talking wet dream. With her long blonde hair, luscious lips, all cheerleader toned and muscled with what appear to be perfect, natural tits, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. The girl is Victoria’s Secret level gorgeous, a freakin’ knockout, a fifteen on a scale of one to ten, a cheerleader with a daddy complex, which means she’s energetic and eager to please.
Very eager to please.
And at that moment, the guy she wanted to please just happened to be me. Go figure.
The first time we had sex it was with me standing behind the lectern at the front of the classroom and her on her knees in front of me. She hummed as she unzipped my Chinos and brought out my ten-inch cock, already rock hard and ready to pop. I had had sex with Haley in my dreams since the first day she sauntered into my classroom at the start of the semester. That day, she waited until everyone else left the classroom, then locked the door and walked toward me with her tongue circling her lips. When she bent over my desk to show me that she wasn’t wearing a bra, my cock popped to attention like a good soldier. Yes sir! Ready to serve sir!
“Professor Moss,” she said, drawing out the words, cooing at me. “I was just wondering…”
“Yes, Haley,” I said, swallowing the giant lump that lodged in my throat the moment she locked the door.
“I was just wondering, could I get extra credit if I gave you the best blowjob of your life?”
She batted her eyelashes and let her tongue go slowly around her lips again. She pooched her lips and narrowed her eyes. She was seductive in a clumsy, slutty, college girl, Judd Apatow movie, sort of way. I was sure her tactics worked well on football players and other boys who would have climbed a mountain of dead bodies just to sniff her panties. Hell, who am I kidding? It worked on me. My cock plumped against my leg in an instant, throbbing for release.
I smiled up at her, not because she’d offered me the best blowjob of my life (that bar was set pretty high), but because Haley probably thought she was the first student to ever make me such an offer. And she probably thought that I’d be falling all over myself to let her wrap her wonderful lips around my cock and have her tongue playfully tease the head while I filled her mouth full of milky goo.
Sadly, Haley had not learned the key to seducing a guy like me. You didn’t have to impress me with your slutty words or your seductive powers. You didn’t have to say outrageous things or flash me your tits. Those things were cool and the effort greatly appreciated, but if you wanted a guy like me to fuck you, all you had to say was, “Hey, Holden, let’s fuck!”
The thing that Haley didn’t realize was that I was a good-looking guy surrounded by hot, horny girls on a daily basis, most of whom would fuck me silly just to be able to say that they had fucked a college professor once they were older and married and bored and looking for something to brag to their girlfriends about.
“Oh sure, I fucked one of my college professors when I was twenty-two. Why? Didn’t you?”
I had been teaching for ten years and having sex with students for most of that time. And back when I was a college student myself, I was having sex with hot female professors. When it came to my students, I never approached them about sex. That was my rule. I would not allow myself to ask for sex or suggest we “get together for a drink after class” or any of that bullshit, but if a hot twenty-something came on to me with no agenda other than having great sex for great sex sake, why would I decline?
I had my morals and standards. I’d never exchange sex for grades no matter how hot the girl was, but if she was just horny and playing out some older man fantasy, why would I insult her by saying no?
I wanted to tell Haley Roger that I had probably gotten more blowjobs than the average porn star. And I had certainly fucked more hot, young coeds than the average college football star. And now, since she had so kindly offered, I was going to get what Haley promised to be “the best blowjob of my life”. I doubted it would reach such lofty heights, but it would be a great way to cap off a Friday afternoon.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, watching as she straightened her back and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. When she did, the short skirt rode up enough to give me a nice glance of her shaved pussy and pink clit.
“Well,” she said, moving toward the podium. “Why don’t you stand here and pretend like you’re giving a lecture to the class.” She glanced at the open space beneath the podium and smiled. “While I get in there and suck your cock until you cream on my face?”
I had to smile. And I had to give it to her. She certainly was creative. I almost said, “If you really want a thrill you can suck my cock during a real class like your friend Ashley Ayers did last semester.”
I almost said it, but I didn’t. What happened between me and my students was my secret. I knew that Ashley had probably said something to Haley because I saw them together on campus all the time. They belonged to a sorority that only admitted hot, bitchy girls like Haley and Ashley.
The rumor was, the sorority sisters even held competitions to see who could fuck or suck the most football players at the start of every football season. Supposedly there was even a points system. Let’s see, it was… Hand job: 1 point... Blowjob: 5 points... Vaginal sex: 10 points... Anal sex: 15 points... Three-way: 20 points... Double penetration: 25 points.
I wondered if there was a tally board with the names of professors like me that the sorority sisters had fucked or sucked. Then I wondered if my name was anywhere near the top.
Girls talk. Especially those girls. Hell, that could be why Haley was coming onto me with the offer to blow me while I was standing at the podium. Girls talk amongst themselves, compare notes, share tips and tricks.
Thankfully, none of the girls I had had sex with had ever ratted me out to the dean. They would never do that. Not the way I took care of their needs. That’s what made me different than the jocks and other professors these girls had sex with. I actually cared about their needs, more so than my own.
That’s one thing about me that women have always loved. I’m a fucking alpha male with a big cock and an insatiable appetite when it comes to sex, but I also give more than I receive. It’s a personal satisfaction thing with me. I want to get my rocks off, but I got greater pleasure out of making the girl cum, over and over and over again.
I wanted every woman I had sex with to walk away on wobbly legs going, “HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS FREAKIN’ AMAZING! I WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN!!”
There is no greater complement in my mind than looking up with a girl’s juices covering my mouth and cheeks and seeing that “the da
m just broke” glow on her face. Dreamy eyed, red cheeks, quivering lips, breasts heaving, trying to breathe. I loved watching a girl’s face as I hammered into her tight pussy while she exploded and writhed around like she was having a sexual seizure.
There was nothing better in my book. NOTHING!
Me and my best friend Wynn—Dr. Wynn Driver, pardon me— talked about that all the time, how we got more pleasure out of making a woman cum than cumming ourselves. In fact, sometimes we double-teamed a girl who was willing and able to take on two big cocks at once, just to double her pleasure, double her fun. And our fun, too, of course. I can’t tell you how many times me and Wynn had stood grinning at each other with our cocks stuck in opposite ends of the same woman, her cumming like a freight train while we just hung on like happy passengers.
Wynn called us “pleasure givers” and the women we fucked “pleasure receivers”. Wynn was clinical like that, giving everything a name so he could psychoanalyze the shit out of it later. That’s what he did for a living. Wynn was a nationally-renowned clinical psychologist who guest lectured for me sometimes when he was in town. He was the proverbial “tall, dark, and handsome” motherfucker and women crawled all over each other to sleep with him. We’d shared a lot of girls over the years. And had never gotten a single complaint. To the contrary, as Wynn liked to say, “If we don’t make your toes curl over and over again, then our job ain’t done!”
That was Wynn. What a character. He’d have a field day on Haley what was her name…
“Professor Moss? Professor? Would you like that? Me on my knees and you standing here with your cock out?” She was gesturing with her hands at the space under the podium, smiling like a Price Is Right spokes model, who had probably asked Drew Carey something similar over the years.
I shook thoughts of Wynn from my brain and gave Haley a smile. “That sounds like fun.”
The podium was open in the side that faced my desk, with enough room for Haley to get to her knees and tuck herself in. I stood at the podium with my hands on the top and sighed as Haley unzipped my pants and tugged out my cock, helping herself to everything I had to offer. I just closed my eyes and sighed. I truly was a blessed man.
“Ooh, Professor Moss, your cock is soooo long,” she sighed with her fingers flexing around the shaft. She started to slowly slide her fingers back and forth over my big ten-incher, squeezing as she neared the head, forcing little drops of precum out the slit. She hummed and licked away my juices, then pressed her lips to the head and slathered it around her wet mouth. She held my cock up and slowly trailed her tongue from the base of the shaft to the tip. She loosened my pants and pushed them and my boxers down my legs so she could get to my balls. She gently kneaded the sack between her fingers.
“Does that feel good, professor?” she asked, gazing up at me with her beautiful blue eyes gleaming and the head of my cock resting on her lips. She spread her lips and pulled me toward her, taking my cock head fully into her mouth with her lips suctioned tightly around the shaft. She started milking the base of the shaft while deep throating the rest.
“Yes… Haley… that feels… oh… wow… pretty… fucking amazing…” I sighed as my fingers gripped the edges of the podium. I locked my knees to keep from wobbling. Wow, okay, this girl was not kidding. This might not be the best blowjob of my life, but it was going to be pretty fucking close. Certainly, in the top ten. Maybe even the top five.
I heard someone rattling the doorknob, but I chose to ignore it. I knew that the door was locked and I had the only key on a ring in my desk. I was the only professor who used this particular classroom, so I had changed the locks without the dean or the facilities manager knowing it for this very reason. A lot of girls not only wanted to fuck a professor, they wanted to do so in his classroom, during the day, when the halls were buzzing with activity and the chances of getting caught were greater. My training told me it was simply because some women found danger—the chance of getting caught with your mouth full and your pussy out—was an aphrodisiac. Senses were heightened. Nerves stood on end. You wanted to cum quickly, but not too quickly. All of that made the sex even better for them, which was just fine with me.
Besides, the dean never came to the psyche building. The psychology department was not much of a money maker for Midwestern, so we were relegated to the older buildings on the shittier side of campus. Dean Wormer always held court in his plush, corner office in the admin building clear on the other side of the campus. If he wanted to talk to you, you were paged by his secretary, a sour-faced woman named Greta, and expected to come to him.
It was probably just a student who had forgotten something or a janitor wanting to empty the trash or rifle my desk. They’d have to wait. Haley was pumping my cock with the force of an oil derrick now, taking me in until I hit the back of her throat and out again. I could feel the orgasm building in my balls. They were getting tight between her fingers as the pressure started to build from deep inside.
I opened my eyes to glance down so I could watch Haley work her magic. I guess being highly-coordinated was what made her such a great cocksucker, I mean, cheerleader. She had one hand working my balls and taint, the other working the shaft, and her mouth working the tip. Just the sight of my cock ramrodding between her gorgeous lips was enough to push me over the edge.
“Fuck… Haley… shit…” I moaned, my body tensing, fingers holding onto the podium to keep from falling. “You’re… going to... make me… cum…”
“Yes… oh god… yes… yes... baby… cum for Haley,” she said, her breath coming in spurts that matched the motion of her hand, as if she was having an orgasm just from getting me off. This girl was amazing. I couldn’t wait to get her in bed and really give her the star treatment. Wynn would love this girl.
“I’m… cumming…”
“Cum on my face…” She pulled her lips back and jackhammered her hand up and down the shaft as she held my balls steady, keeping them from slapping against my legs. I held my breath and grunted like a wild animal as my cock exploded, shooting thick ropes of milky white goo all over her pretty face. She smiled and opened her mouth and let me shoot cream all over her tongue and lips. As my seizures slowed, she took my cock into her mouth and sucked out every drop of cum that was left, then like a mommy cat cleaning a kitten, held up my cock and licked it clean.
“Holy shit,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. I fell back against the desk and tucked my withering cock back into my pants, then reached down to help Haley get to her feet. She came up into my arms and laced her fingers behind my neck.
Leaning back, giving me a sly look, she licked her lips and smiled. “Well, professor, how was that?”
“That,” I said, making a goofy face, blowing out my cheeks, “was probably the best blowjob of my life.” I lied, it was more like number five or six, but why let the poor girl down. I put my hands on her arms and gave her a smile. I made a show of glancing at my watch. “I’m late for a meeting with the dean. Can I pay you back later?”
“Yes, you most certainly can,” she said, bringing her hands down to fasten my belt. She leaned against me and stared up into my eyes. “If you think that was amazing just wait until you see what I can do with my pussy and ass.”
She got onto her tiptoes to kiss my cheek, then picked up her book bag and sauntered out the door as if nothing had happened. I sat back against the edge of my desk and sighed.
I couldn’t wait to tell Wynn about Haley what’s her name.
He was gonna love this girl.
And she was gonna love him.
CHAPTER THREE: Jude
I stood at the podium at the front of Professor Markle’s Psychology of Sexuality 401 class and quietly cleared my throat. My term paper was laid out on the podium in front of me, all neatly typed and printed out to make it easier to read out loud. Some students just read off their iPad or phone, but I was old fashioned. I liked the feel of paper in my hands. I liked to be able to finish one page, then move on to the next. And
paper didn’t rely on the school’s shitty Wifi.
More than one idiot had said, “Sorry, Professor Markle, but the Wifi’s not working so I can’t read my paper to the class. Can I get a do-over later?”
Markle was old school.
He didn’t give do-overs.
He gave F’s.
Idiots.
I did think Professor Markle, who was closer to seventy than sixty, pushed the old school stuff too far sometimes. Like the way he had his seniors write a paper then read it aloud to the class like third graders while he dozed at his desk, not even pretending to listen. I probably could have read the transcript of a comic book and he would not have noticed. Maybe that’s what prompted me to write the paper I did. It was full of wit, wisdom, keen observations, scientific hypotheses, and good old-fashioned smut. Not to mention the shock value. I wanted to see if the old fart was even paying attention. I knew my classmates certainly would be after hearing the opening line.
I gave a curt smile to the twenty other seniors who were watching me from their seats with a mixture of boredom and disinterest. Some were playing on their phones, some struggling to keep their eyes open, most were not even paying attention. These were the morons who thought getting a psyche degree was going to be an easy road to hoe. In the fall, most of them would have a degree but be working as cashiers and waiters while I was working on my Master’s. Again, idiots.
