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Professor Days stood at the front of the room, tapping on her phone. I scowled down at my chemistry packet, hating NMR and all it stood for. We both checked the time repeatedly.
Five minutes after class was supposed to start, Days sighed. “Well,” she said, “it looks like nobody else is coming.”
There were only four people in the class, so it was very noticeable when somebody didn’t show up. I would think that would be enough to make people come regularly, but no – this was the third time in as many weeks I was the only one in the room.
“I’m starting to think I should give pop quizzes,” she said to me as the projector flickered on for the powerpoint. At the look on my face, she added hastily, “Just as a participation grade. Nothing too hard, just, like, a picture of a stigma and ‘how many ovaries does this plant have’ or something like that.”
I relaxed. “Maybe a good idea.”
“Then people might actually show up…anyway. I have a lot of pretty pictures today, so I’ll just turn off the lights and we’ll get started.”
Days always ran over time. It was amazing, how long she could talk about plants without seeming to get bored. About ten minutes after the period ended, I got an email announcing that she’d changed the syllabus.
The next class, she followed through on her threat of a participation quiz. Once more, I was the only one who had bothered to come, so she looked at me and said, “Where were potatoes originally domesticated?”
“South American highlands, wasn’t it?”
“Good. Hundred percent on the first quiz.” She marked it in the gradebook. “We’re going to talk about the Three Sisters today – maize, wheat, and beans. If I get through all of them I’ll be lucky. Corn can’t actually survive without our help anymore, because we’ve turned it into a shatterless crop.”
The class after that, the other three people showed up. Days launched into her lecture right on time. An odd feeling rose up in my chest as I took notes.
Then came our first test. When I was done, I handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, taking it and looking up into my face.
I mumbled something. Her eyes, so incredibly blue, distracted me from saying anything more coherent, and I suddenly realized what it was that rose up in me when everyone was there.
Now that I recognized my crush, it was all I could think about. Her strong jawline, her calloused hands, her compact frame, the way her graying hair was cut in a man’s fashion to let her work without it getting in the way, her passion for and knowledge of what she was teaching. I started to look forward to the classes when it was just us, and I could drink her in without worrying about anyone else noticing anything odd.
To my mind, she seemed to be reciprocating. She smiled at me more, joked more when it bahis firmaları was just us, winked occasionally. Once, I told a joke when we were both leaving, and she laughed and touched my shoulder.
I quashed those thoughts as quickly as they came up. I was fat, and stupid, and a student. Even if Days was into women, there was no way she could be interested in me, and no way for us to be together even if she were. I enjoyed my crush, but allowed it to go no further than what I could control.
Just before spring break, I was again the only one who showed up. She groaned (would she make the same noise if I – no. Stop) and said, “Why are you the only one who shows up?”
I shrugged, mind racing as I struggled to think of a lie. “Um – the powerpoints don’t do a whole lot, and I need to do well since it’s my last semester.”
“How old are you?”
She nodded, as if I’d confirmed something for her, and started class.
I still had to work over spring break. My on-campus job was in the room where all the biology materials were, so I wasn’t particularly shocked when Days walked in.
She was surprised to see me, though, that much was clear. “What are you doing in here?” she asked.
“She works here,” Johannes said.
“Oh. I just need – um” – she looked around – “that. Is there a ladder somewhere?”
The plant model she was looking for was on the very top shelf. Short as she was, she couldn’t reach it.
“I got it,” I said, standing up. It was almost out of my reach, but I snagged it with my fingertips and pulled it down. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She smiled up at me and took the model. I couldn’t help noticing her head was right at breast height.
Not long after, Johannes left for a meeting. I watched him go, remembering how his ass felt under my hands. He’d fucked me right here, on this table, and then again in his bed – but then he’d had a crisis of conscience, leaving me high and dry and completely unable to satisfy myself after he’d shown me just how good sex could be.
Unsurprisingly, I was the only one to show up to the first class after spring break. As had quickly become routine, Days asked me an easy question, recorded the 100% in the grade book, and started the lecture.
She finished five minutes early for the first time ever. She turned on the lights and said, “So. Your answer isn’t going to affect your grade in any way, but I’ve seen the way you look at me.” I flushed – clearly I hadn’t been as subtle as I’d thought I was. “Want to grab coffee sometime?”
My flush turned into a gape. “Coffee?” I squeaked.
“Or tea, if you don’t drink coffee,” she amended. “Really, anything, outside of class.”
I cleared my throat. “No, no – coffee sounds great. When?”
“Are you free kaçak iddaa this afternoon?”
I shook my head regretfully. “I have my off-campus job. Tomorrow?”
“Meeting until seven o’clock. Friday?”
“Friday sounds good.”
“Three o’clock? Grinder?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
The coffee date went well – so well, in fact, that it turned into dinner, and then into her inviting me back to her apartment. I accepted eagerly and followed her in my car.
“Coffee?” she offered when we got there.
“I’m fine, thanks.” I scratched the back of my neck, suddenly shy.
Her eyes tracked my movement. “Do you know why I invited you here?”
“Not for coffee,” I joked weakly.
She smiled. “No,” she agreed, closing the difference between us. “Not for coffee.”
She reached up and angled my head down. Our lips met. She was gentle with me, waiting until my hands moved to her hips to probe at my mouth with her tongue. I opened for her, letting her take complete control of the kiss. Her hands moved to my breasts, and my breath caught.
Too soon, her hands left my breasts. I felt her fingers skimming over my belly, and then she gripped the bottom edge of my shirt. I let her pull it off me and returned the favor.
“This isn’t a push-up,” she said, tugging at my bra strap.
“No,” I agreed stupidly, staring down at her breasts.
She unhooked my bra. “And no surgery. These are real.”
“Yes.” I skimmed my thumbs over her nipples, still encased in a purple push-up. She arched, pushing her small breasts into my hands.
She pinched one of my nipples experimentally. I shifted, feeling wet trickle down into my panties, and found the clasp of her bra. I unhooked it in one smooth motion.
She started walking forwards. I went backwards, sitting down when I felt something soft bump just behind my knees. She straddled me, her skirt riding up, and my arms went around her automatically to keep her from falling.
“The skirt zips,” she said, and bit my earlobe.
I obeyed the unspoken command, finding the zipper on the side and pulling it down until the material unwrapped itself from around her waist and fell into my hand. She was wearing stockings, not tights, I realized, and her panties were the same purple her bra had been.
She undid my pants and wormed her hands down until I got with the program and lifted up my hips so she could pull them off, exposing my red-lace boyshorts.
“You were planning on getting laid tonight,” she murmured into my ear.
“I was prepared for the possibility,” I admitted, cupping her breasts with my hands.
She stood up and pulled off her panties, allowing me to see her entire body naked but for the stockings. She was shaved everywhere, and in remarkable shape – not just kaçak bahis for her age, but period. I couldn’t see an ounce of flab, and my own body, fat as it was, paled in comparison.
She sat at the other end of the couch and spread her legs, putting one of them on the floor. “Come put that mouth to use, gorgeous,” she said.
I turned so I was laying on the couch, head between her legs. “I’ve never done this,” I warned her.
I shook my head. “I’ve seen some movies, but that’s about it.”
“So I’m teaching you about more than plants, after all.” She laughed, but it wasn’t at me, I didn’t think. “Just do your best.”
I took a breath and hesitantly stuck my tongue out, hitting her clit. “That’s it,” she murmured. Emboldened, I licked from the bottom of her labia to the top. She gasped. I did it again, and she brushed my hair out of my face. “So I can see you,” she explained when I looked up at her questioningly.
I nodded and turned my attention back to the task at hand. I licked aimlessly for a few minutes more before I remembered an old joke and figured I might as well try it.
A, I traced out. N. G. Her gasps and moans were the encouragement I needed to keep going. E. L. A.
I brought my fingers up and spread her labia, giving myself access to the deeper part of her. The shiny pink pearl of her clit winked above the folds. I repeated the earlier tracings, this time on the more sensitive membrane closer to her entrance, and she whimpered and pushed her hips into my face. “That’s it,” she gasped. “I’m so close. So close. Oh, God, you little slut, you’re so fucking ready for it.” My cunt pulsed and I pushed my face closer, nosing at her clit while my tongue pushed itself into her hole.
“Goddamn whore,” she moaned, and came, clenching around my tongue and releasing a gush of cum. I licked it up while she panted.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she caught her breath.
“Calling you – those things. I shouldn’t have-“
I interrupted her. “It’s okay.” I smiled. “I liked it, actually.”
“You did?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.
“I did,” I said. “Turned me on but good.”
“Fuck,” she mumbled. “Lay back, then. It’s time I make my little slut feel good.”
“You don’t have to,” I said even as I did as I was told and laid back.
“I want to,” she said, and peeled my panties down. “Fuck, you’re really wet. You did get turned on by those names, didn’t you, whore?”
I hissed, “Yes.”
“Or was it licking my cunt that did it?” She situated herself between my legs. “Was it licking your professor to orgasm that did it for you?”
I jerked when she reminded me that she was my goddamn professor.
“You’re a slut for your teacher, aren’t you,” she said, and licked my clit.
That was all it took. My fists clenched, I sucked in a breath, and I came. Hard.
When my vision cleared, Professor Days was laying next to me. “I’m going to have fun with you,” she said, and that dirty promise carried me off to sleep.
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