by Alex Wolf
There was no way he would fuck a student—especially one half his age. He had to push that idea far away. He was a man of authority, of power. There were serious ethical implications.
But still, the thought of her in the mini skirt walking through his classroom played through his mind on a loop. Grant shook his head, doing everything in his power to erase the memory. Trying to forget made it even worse. He swore he caught a glimpse of her white, cotton panties.
His jaw tensed. She knew exactly what she was doing.
What the hell was she doing?
What the hell was he doing?
He shouldn’t have given the situation another thought, but there he was, making dinner and having some kind of cliché porn, role-playing fantasy. His mind went to places it shouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and to make matters worse, he didn’t want it to stop. He imagined what he would to do her—what kind of noises she’d make when he bent her over his desk and fucked her from behind.
It was endless, how much he could teach her beyond the classroom.
Each thought quickly filled him with shame. He was the professor, and she was the student. The last thing he should’ve been thinking about was spanking her tight little ass while she squirmed on his knee.
No.
He could lose his job, his teaching credentials. It was a serious moral dilemma.
But fuck, the way her ass swayed in the skirt, and the way she blushed every time he glanced at her. He definitely loved a woman in a skirt, and even more so the way Kristen filled out hers.
Was she even a woman yet?
She probably wasn’t older than twenty.
But then again, it wasn’t like this was high school. She was easily past the age of consent, and he’d witnessed plenty of relationships between students and professors in the past.
Usually, nothing came of it, though they tried to keep it private. Maybe something could happen between them and never be spoken of again? Something brief and enjoyable?
But would it be enjoyable?
She was so young and innocent and he—wasn’t.
If given the opportunity, he would do things to her she’d never experienced. He wouldn’t be able to control himself, once put in that position.
“Fuck.”
He looked down and noticed the chicken he’d been pan-frying was black on one side, and smoke rolled through the kitchen. He ran with the pan in his hand and dumped it in the sink.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t even think about it any longer.
Other teachers might fuck their students, but that wasn’t him. It wasn’t how he ran his classroom.
It didn’t matter how attractive she was or how she looked at him. He was the professor, and that’s exactly how it would stay.
Grant reached over and smacked the loud alarm clock. He lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling, then turned his gaze down to his rock-hard dick. He usually stuck to a tight schedule, going through his morning workout routine, taking his time with his coffee before he’d leave for class. Today was different. He hadn’t slept well at all and felt it in every part of his body.
He glanced over at the clock and then back to his dick. His hand slowly glided down his stomach, and his eyes closed. He still smelled the perfume she’d worn to class a few days before, laced with a hint of body wash.
The sight of her bent over his desk played through his mind, and he stroked his cock, gently at first. The same way he would in real life, while he made her stand there, eagerly waiting for him.
He’d demand for her to stay still and tell her to offer him his pussy, however he instructed her to do so. His hand sped up on his dick as he thought about teasing her, tasting her. Fuck, her pussy tasted so sweet on his tongue as he went to his knees behind her and buried his face in her ass. He licked and sucked and bit, all the while noting every sound she made with each stroke of his tongue.
Then, he stood and asked her if she’d been well-behaved. She naturally shook her head, and he smacked her on the ass with a loud thwack that echoed through the classroom.
Her whole body tightened under his fingertips. That power, that control—that was what did it for him. His balls had already begun to tighten, and he thrust into Kristen’s sweet, innocent pussy. It was like heaven in his mind—euphoric—tight, hot, wet, and snug. She jolted forward on the desk with his first thrust, and he took everything from her. Every innocent little look was his. He stood still with his arms behind his back and told her to fuck his cock, and to make it pleasing to him or he’d turn her ass red with his hand.
She bucked back against him, needy and helpless, like she couldn’t get enough of it. He enjoyed how hungry she was. She needed his cock like she needed air to breathe. She begged him to let her come, but he refused. The naughty little bitch had to know who was in control.
He stroked his cock furiously in the bed, gritting his teeth and grunting like a wild animal. He thought of all the different ways he could fuck her, and how he would angle his cock to hit all the perfect spots she probably hadn’t yet discovered herself.
He was a professor. His job was to teach. And he would teach her how to come on his cock correctly, or she would be met with discipline. Finally, on the verge, he couldn’t take it any longer. He gripped her hair and fucked multiple orgasms out of her, then came inside her smooth, slick cunt.
A groan echoed through his bedroom, and his toes curled as he filled Kristen Monroe with every last drop from his balls. Afterward, he shoved her to her knees, and allowed her to clean him with her tongue while she stared up at him with those helpless doe eyes.
He let out a large gasp, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. His chest rose and fell as he panted, and a fine sheen of sweat coated his body. Fucking hell, what was this girl doing to him?
His mind was a haze, and slowly the fog cleared and his wits returned. It wasn’t how he’d planned to start his day, but he didn’t mind. He was focused now.
Grant stared up at the ceiling and muttered, “Jesus Christ.”
A rush of anxiety pounded into his stomach.
He didn’t want to go to class again and see her after what he’d just done. But, there was another part of him that wanted to. What would she wear? What would she smell like? How would her voice sound? Had she just had a similar fantasy about him in the comfort of her own bed?
He pulled himself up and walked to the shower, stopping to look at his reflection along the way. Looking at his face, he knew what he had to do. He had to push her away, keep her at arm’s length. If he got her alone, there was no telling what he would do.
He needed to be cold. Make it known through his actions that it would never happen, and if she wanted to pass his class, she would work hard and conduct herself properly.
He stepped into the shower and welcomed the hot water on his body.
When he got out, he gave himself another once over.
He knew he was attractive and kept himself in excellent shape. But shouldn’t she be infatuated with the drunken frat boys on campus or the athletes? He wasn’t arrogant about how he looked. But he flirted with enough women his own age to know he could turn heads.
Even though he’d just gotten out of bed, his hair still looked good, his beard didn’t need to be trimmed, and his body was tight and toned from all the hard work he put into it.
But, he had to admit it was a pleasant surprise that a girl so young would be interested in him.
What was he doing? Critiquing himself over what some infatuated student thought of him? It was insane. He knew he’d have to tread carefully, or he’d wind up in trouble. He didn’t know anything about this girl, save for what was shared with him through school records. There wasn’t much there, either.
He didn’t know what her home situation was like, where she came from, what she was trying to accomplish other than a degree in journalism. And what was she trying to get out of him?
She was a journalism major. Surely, she was capable of passing an introduc
tory course on her own merits. Maybe it had nothing to do with being physically attracted to him or a passing grade. Maybe she had daddy issues or some sort of childhood trauma that prompted her to dress so slutty yesterday. Maybe it was attention-seeking. Maybe she just had a fetish for older men. Some girls experimented with other girls when they came to college. Maybe Kristen wanted to try her hand with a more experienced sexual partner.
His thoughts made more sense to him as he toweled off, but there were still too many unanswered questions. He couldn’t reconcile some of them in his brain no matter how hard he tried.
Throughout his life, Grant hadn’t had the best luck with women. There was something that wouldn’t allow him to fully commit to the idea of one person for the rest of his life. There was a girl when he was young and foolish who’d almost changed that, but she chose another man at the last minute. It’d wrecked him for a long time and molded him into the man he was today.
He’d tried to act like it didn’t matter, that he wasn’t hurt by the situation, but he’d never considered committing to a woman after that. He’d resigned himself to the fact he would be alone for the rest of his life and decided to focus on his own career and happiness.
He wasn’t old by any means, but compared to his students, he was practically ancient. And he was still old enough to feel like chasing random women was something he needed to give up. Maybe he could settle down with someone, if the right woman came along.
Despite his current thoughts, he was convinced the right one wouldn’t be one of his students.
Even with the thoughts swirling through his mind, Grant couldn’t help but notice he took extra care shaving the sides of his beard, and he wore a little more cologne than normal. He slicked his hair back over to the side of his head with some hair gel and took one final, critical look.
He stuck with the normal attire he wore every day—some things were too sacred to change. His suits were a wall he put up. They represented authority, the clear line between student and teacher. And that’s how it would remain between himself and Kristen Monroe.
Chapter 4
The first week passed, and it soon became two weeks, then three, then the first month of school had come and gone. By now, most of the students had settled into their daily routine, and many of them had found their place in the school—socially and academically. There were those who practically lived in the study halls and library, and there were those who never went to class and partied all day, flunking class after class.
Although Kristen liked to believe she was one of the better students, she’d found herself drawn to the party lifestyle more than she wanted to admit. No matter how hard she tried, she fell further and further behind in class, and her grades reflected it.
It was to the point she was afraid to check online when grades were posted. Each time her overall average dropped more and more. She wasn’t worried about losing scholarships or anything like that. Her parents paid for it, but she didn’t want them to find out how poor she was doing. Not so much because of the money, that wouldn’t matter to them, but she didn’t want to disappoint them. She knew she had to make some changes to her lifestyle.
She’d call home all the time, but always avoided the topic of grades. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have over the phone, and she knew there’d be some serious words exchanged when it happened.
“You’re up early.” Stefani stretched her arms over her head.
It was the first time all semester Kristen had been up before her. “Thought I’d get in some study time before class. I really need to pass this test, or I’m fucked.” Kristen yawned. She reached forward and grabbed her book, not bothering to dress herself before she opened it to the page she needed.
“Why don’t you ask someone for help?” Stefani was being tutored for two other classes.
“This shit is one of the easiest classes, and I can barely keep up.” Kristen sighed and shook her head, staring at the page in front of her.
“Yeah, you didn’t get off to a great start.”
Kristen could hear a half-joking tone in Stefani’s words, and she sighed. She hated the fact she’d been late on her first day. It felt like a curse.
“I was good at this stuff in high school. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know where to look for a tutor.” Kristen knew what happened, and so did Stefani, but neither would ever address the problem in a conversation. She’d partied and been lazy, and as a consequence, she fell behind. Now, it felt impossible to save her grades.
“Why don’t you go talk to the professor?”
“What?” She didn’t bother to mask the shocked tone in her voice.
Stefani stopped what she was doing and gave Kristen a strange look, and Kristen quickly angled her gaze back down to the book.
She’d told her she thought Professor Wiseman was hot, but she hadn’t told her anything about the feelings she’d had for him—or what she wanted to do to him.
“It would be the logical first choice. Students can talk to professors, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just—”
“Do you know another journalism professor or TA? It’s normal to ask a professor for help.”
Her eyes lingered on her friend for a few seconds, then she turned her attention to her breakfast. She hadn’t considered it, but now that the possibility was in front of her, butterflies swarmed into the pit of her stomach. What would she say to him?
It would be embarrassing. Over the course of the month, she’d done everything she could to flirt with him without it being obvious, and he’d been nothing but rude to her.
Still, she’d noticed, after the first day, he looked perfectly put together every morning after that. The few occasions she’d seen him at other times on campus, he wasn’t dressed nearly as sharp. She could’ve sworn he was doing it because of her.
“I don’t know. The whole class is subjective. I don’t want him to fail me if I ask for help. He’ll know I’ve been behind.” Kristen kept her head down as she spoke. She didn’t want Stef to be able to read her expressions and figure out the real issue she faced. She wasn’t worried about him failing her. She just didn’t want him to think she was stupid. Which wasn’t true at all. She retained every word he’d spoken and the way he’d said it.
Sure, she might have daydreamed about what she wanted him to do to her too, but that was different. She made an effort to learn everything she could. She wanted to impress him. She’d fallen behind on her assignments because she didn’t want to turn in subpar work. She’d only turned in one in the beginning, and the result had been horrible. She hadn’t given him anything since.
She had zero confidence in the test she was about to take. No matter what she did, it wouldn’t be good enough.
She was convinced she was going to bomb.
“Anyone have questions?” Professor Wiseman glanced around the classroom with raised eyebrows as he spoke. He had a way of simultaneously staring at everyone and no one. Every time he did it, Kristen pretended they were the only two people in the room. That his gaze was intently fixed on her, but her eyes always dropped if he lingered in her direction.
“Nobody? Okay then, class is dismissed. Don’t forget about the test coming up Friday.” Professor Wiseman spoke loud enough that his voice carried over the din created as students gathered their things and prepared to leave the class. Kristen’s heart kicked into overdrive, pounding in her chest, and a lump formed in her throat. She wiped her sweaty palms down her skirt.
She’d decided to ask for help, but she couldn’t think of the right thing to say. How would she open the conversation? What would he say back to her? So many thoughts whirled through her brain that it went blank.
As she walked up to his desk, the smell of his cologne landed in her nose, and she just wanted to breathe him in. A sudden wave of adrenaline coursed through her limbs when he looked up at her with his cold, blue eyes sitting behind his glasses.
“Something I can help you with?” He looked up
at her. His words were harsh and uninviting, and his tone suggested no bullshit.
Why was he so mean to her?
The knot in her throat swelled. “Y-yes.”
Her hand trembled when she held out the one assignment she’d turned in. She quickly sat it on the desk in front of him, trying to hide her shaky fingers. Despite being nervous, she walked around his desk so she could stand next to him. He was like a magnet, the force yanking her closer, despite the fact her brain screamed for her to keep a safe distance.
A vein popped out on his neck, and she could practically feel his heartbeat on it as she neared. His entire body tensed for a quick second, and his hands balled into fists before returning to a relaxed state.
I’m making him nervous too.
Calm washed over her, and her anxiety melted away, knowing she affected him the same way he did her.
Kristen leaned over his desk and pointed at a few sentences she remembered working hard on but was still ashamed to admit were her own.
“I don’t understand the grading on these.”
He glanced over at her and gulped. His eyes darted back to the paper. “What do you not understand?”
He was back to using his asshole tone. What was his deal? If he liked her, why was he being a dick? Two could play at this game.
“Everything. I worked hard on those. Is it my form?” She arched her back and stretched like a cat, as if she were sore and needed a massage. Kristen grinned on the inside, knowing the words would stir him even more.
He tried to control himself, but she noticed every little detail about him. His breathing sped up, and she wondered if his heart beat in his chest as hard as hers.
She pointed at a semi-colon on the page and breathed him in once more. Her pussy was already wet just because of the close proximity. She could easily grab him by his hair and pull his head down to where she needed it. Her clit swelled and throbbed just at the sound of him breathing. Goosebumps pebbled along the backs of her arms thinking about his rough fingers digging into her hips.
