Page 2 of Hot for Professor

Sure, sometimes students get a little crush on me and since I’m not dead, yes, I sometimes notice them as well. But I’ve never fucked a student and I don’t mean to start. Especially not a freshman like Rosalie. God, no. That’s not how I operate. Keep them at arm’s length.

“Rosalie, you can start sorting those essays for me now,” I tell her as she starts to climb the ladder again.

I can’t take anymore glimpses of her sweet, cotton-covered pussy; my lifelong record of good behavior is going to be shattered if I do. I feel foolish for thinking she’s coming on to me. She’s an innocent girl, probably nineteen years old, if that. She would never have any interest in an ancient thirty-five-year-old like me. If I can’t get my extreme lust under control, I’m going to have to have her replaced.

“Sure thing, Professor Hayes,” she says, bouncing over to the small desk in the corner, far from my line of sight. “Did you happen to get a chance to look over those poems I wrote? They’re probably silly, right?”

“The poems were good, actually. You need to have more confidence in your work,” I tell her. “Even if you’re faking it.”

She laughs a bit breathlessly. “I’m terrible at faking, but I’m glad you liked them.”

I really don’t want to replace Rosalie. She’s a great assistant. She’s smart and shockingly well-read for someone her age. The questions she asks me make me think before I answer and her honest love of creative writing is refreshing after years of teaching the same old thing. She even turned me on to a great new short story writer I’d never heard of before and I plan to work their stories into my syllabus next semester.

And God, those tits. She just plainturns me on.

As we work, she reads lines aloud from the essays every once in a while, some of them making me laugh far too much.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone I laughed at their work,” I say sternly. “It’s not the writing—it’s your delivery.”

She covers her mouth with her fingertips, one of them dragging at her full lower lip as she tries to hide her giggles. “I’m sorry, Professor. I’ll be good.”

“I hope so,” I tell her, my eyes dropping from her wet lips and roaming down her body once she starts concentrating on her work again. It takes all my willpower not to command her to turn to face me and spread her legs wide. My heart starts to pound as she shifts in her seat, her knees rubbing together as if she’s having similar thoughts.

Insanity. I’m losing it. “I’m almost finished here for the day,” I lie gruffly. “You can go.”Because if you don’t, I’m going to bend you over my desk and fucking rip those panties right off.The thought of her pert ass presenting itself to me is too much. “Go,” I say, my voice barely more controlled than a roar.

She jumps, her chest heaving. “Did I do something wrong?”

I keep myself under control, but barely. “No, Rosalie, of course not. I just remembered a meeting I have to get to and don’t want to be late.”

She nods and hurries toward the door, stopping to smile at me as she presses her backpack to her chest, pushing her tits up almost to her chin. “I love working for you, Professor. If there’s anything extra you want me to do, just let me know. I really look forward to whatever you have for me.”

“That’s fine, Rosalie. Thanks.” The words come out in a croak and as soon as she’s gone, I get up and lock the door behind her, leaning against it and massaging my raging hard on. I imagine Rosalie’s dainty hand wrapping around my thick shaft, and not my own. Mere seconds pass and I come in my pants with a groan like a fucking teenager.

Jesus! What is it about Rosalie that won’t let me stop thinking about her? She’s not like any other student I’ve known. Not like any other woman either, because I have to admit I don’t really think of her as a student anymore. That little girl is all woman in my mind, and I need to make it stop.

Chapter 3

Rosalie

It’s late and I’m just finishing up my latest blog entry, giddy about noticing Professor Hayes’s big hard on earlier today. Seeing that huge bulge after I caught him staring at me made me feel all squirmy and hot, and I kept thinking about that thing rubbing up against me, pushing inside me. When he told me to go, it was all I could do to keep from begging him to do whatever he wanted to my body, as long as he could release the tightness coiled inside me as well.

Lust, pure lust, is what I feel whenever I see him. I know I can make it go away on my own—touch that special place between my legs that he makes come alive—but I only wanthimthere. My pussy already belongs to him, and he’ll be the one to make me orgasm for the first time.

I splash some cold water on my face and try to calm down because I still have lots of homework to do. Fortunately, I’m able to stop thinking about Professor Hayes’s fingers or mouth, or his huge bulge, but I can’t stop thinking about him altogether. He’s funny, and makes me laugh, which makes me want to make him laugh, because I love the booming sound of it. I love his smile, the way he praises my writing.

No, I need to get my work done, because if my grades slip, I won’t be qualified to keep my assistant position.

“Damn it,” I mutter, realizing I must have left my book at Professor Hayes’s office. This would’ve been a great excuse to slip over there after hours if I didn’t actually have reading to do.

“What’s wrong?” my roommate Jen asks.

“I have to go back to Professor Hayes’s office to get my book.”

I’m irritated because I don’t want to come on too strong and scare him off, especially since I think he sent me away today because of the hard on I gave him from flashing my panties. But I really need that book.

“Give me a minute and I’ll walk with you,” she says, always concerned about safety.

“It’ll be fine,” I say, glancing out the window. The campus is well lit, and I promise her I’ll stay in the public areas.

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