Teacher

My political science class is about three hours long, but that's not the only reason why it's difficult to concentrate: my professor is definitely fuckable. Not only is he handsome, but he's also passionate about the subject he's teaching, and he deserves some credit for being a sexy political geek.

So while he's lecturing about how senior citizens are voting more often than the younger population, I gaze up at him from the back seat, concentrating on his movements, trying to gauge the bulginess between his legs, beneath his jeans. Sometimes I daydream about showing up to class one morning in a provocative outfit, black stilettos, my skirt hiked up, either wearing a thong or nothing at all underneath. I'd walk up to him after class so we're alone, totally disregarding the fact that he has a wife and three kids. While he's sorting his papers, I'd lean on the side of the table, asking him questions about an upcoming project. He nods in response, replies with the appropriate answers, but I can tell there's an inkling of frustration. He struggles to keep his attention on my eyes, tempted to look below and stare at his student's ass and legs. I feel tingly, aroused, and confident that something's going to happen.

I love playing the intelligent yet coy temptation, a college professors dream girl. I shift my body so that I'm on the front edge of the table, facing him directly, opening my legs a little more. "Actually, I also wanted to speak with you about a complaint." He looks at me, eye to eye, and props his elbow up on his desk. "What's up?" I bite my lip before I speak. "I'm having trouble concentrating during class, but I think I have a solution." He seems interested, "oh?" I reply, "yeah, but it involves you being completely honest with me right now." He moves his hands to rub his thighs, then leans forward in his chair, swiveling a little. "Of course." I imitate him, leaning forward as well, my palms together, my legs still spread. "I want you to tell me how you feel right now while looking at me. Don't hide it."

His gaze still directed at me, he takes a long breath, inhales and exhales, slowly and deeply. "Well, if I'm being honest with you..." he looks me over, up and down, taking me in. "You do look very lovely today, and I'll admit that you're enticing. It's a little hard to keep my eyes on yours." I smile, blush a little. "I see, and thanks for being honest. But, how do you feel?" He leans back in his chair, placing his palms on the arm rests. "I feel a little frustrated, because I'm thinking things that I'm not supposed to think or do." I lick my lips. "My thoughts exactly," I say in a quieter voice, with a tone of arousal. "That's my complaint, that I'm frustrated. Now you can see where I'm coming from." His eyes are beginning to get heavy with lust, he glances over at the door window, making sure no one is looking in.

He rolls his chair closer to me, his gaze still fixed on mine. "But how does a young woman like you get frustrated?" I feel my breathing getting slightly heavier, my body feeling more loose as he comes toward me. "Because I'm forced to stare at you for three hours, and all I can think about is fucking you senseless on this table." With that, he gets up out of his chair, and walks up to me, his crotch parallel to my chest. "I've thought about you in my bed, too, and in the shower. Just thinking of having you inside me..." He rubs his thumb over my lips, I look up to him, helplessly, waiting, wanting him like a starved vagabond wants water. His fingers trail from my lips to my hair, running them through it. He places his other hand behind my head. He looks down at me and asks, "Why do you want me?" I keep my defenseless gaze, but I speak bluntly. "Because you're smart and passionate, and you seem like the type of guy that'll fuck for hours on end." With that, he pulls me forward and kisses me, good and hard and for a long time. We continue to kiss, and he leans down and lifts me up, my legs wrapped around him. I love the feel of his stubble, the groans he makes when he kisses. I grind against him, feeling his hard cock growing beneath his jeans.

He lays me down on the table, and pulls up my skirt, my bare, wet cunt in full view. He keeps his focus on my pussy, unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock, throbbing and solid. "That's a pleasant suprise," I say. He begins to stroke his fat cock, and leans his face down between my legs, licking all over, his harsh stubble grazing against me. I tilt my head against the table, long moans and sighs being pushed out of me as my professor digs his face in. I run my hands through his hair, part of me wants this to last forever, but I still want to suck him off. I let him lick a few more times, then I pull away, taking off my blouse as I get on my knees. Before I can pull my blouse over my head, I feel him grab my waist, over his shoulders, then being placed on the classroom floor.

He yanks off the blouse, and once I see his cock, I'm on my knees immediately, the cold, hard floor feeling unpleasant. He grabs my hair and pushes me, my lips sliding around his cock. It feels so nice to finally please him orally, to look up at him, watching his facial expressions and hearing him moan as I stroke and suck him. He forces me down until I gag, saliva dripping from my mouth, tears forming. As I go back for seconds, he stops me, picks me up and turns me around so that I'm against one of the desks. His hands run over my ass cheeks, and spanks both of them, making me yelp. "You have a beautiful ass." I turn my head around, smiling at him, then looking down at his dick pushing inside me. I whimper as he slowly plunges into me, while I watch. "Fuck that's hot." He starts hitting against my ass, pounding  faster, his grip on my hips getting stronger. I feel my legs get weaker, and I lean over on the desk, my hands grasping the back of the seat. As he slaps, he grunts and moans, and shouting "Fuck! You have a tight, little, cunt." I can't help but continually whine "fuck me! Harder!"

Finally he gets up to a quicker and harder speed, fucking the shit out of me. He's breathing gets deeper, faster, fucking me hard enough to make the desk move. It feels so fucking good, so uncontrollable, my cunt being beaten by his thick cock. As he fucks me faster, I let out a long scream, my cheeks blushing as my whole body squeezes from tension. "I'm gonna cum, I wanna cum on your ass." I smile when I hear this, "Mmmm, yeah. I want you to cum." I hear his final moans as he pumps to orgasm, then pulls out, I feel his warm jizz on my ass cheeks. I watch his cock spit cum in long spurts, he moans like he's in pain and relief. His body is flushed, sweaty. We look at each other in admiration, relieved from fucking. I hang my head over the desk, feeling lazy, appropriately pleased. He rubs tissue over my ass, wiping off his jizz, gently. I look over at him, chuckling. "Thanks." He smiles back. "I think you deserve all the thanks, and I think you're cleaned off now." I stand up, and turn to him, pressing my chest against his, leaning up for a kiss. He gives a passionate kiss, his hands on my ass. "I think we made my problem worse, though..." I bite my lip, looking up at him eagerly. He sighs, "Likewise."