Hot for Teacher

♫ I’ve got it bad, got it bad, got it bad

I’m hot for Teacher ♫

Van Halen

This is a story of one of my many experiences in College. Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity, but all other facts are true, to the best of my knowledge.

I was almost finished, just one more semester and I’d receive my diploma and move onto what I really wanted to do, help people. I enjoyed college but found that the guys were still of high school mentality, the women a little too grown up. There seemed to be this divide between the sexes, something I had noticed in high school, but not thought about.

During human physiology, I learned that girls matured faster than boys, not only physically, but mentally too. Women did their “growing up” earlier because they had to, it was how we kept humanity going from one generation to the next. Men needed women to hold down the fort while they were off playing with swords and spears and the saying “boys will be boys” very much described the young adults that littered the college halls. Some of them were nice to look at, others great to talk to and a few were the whole package. Unfortunately, those knew they were considered tier-I and the ego that accompanied them wasn’t very attractive.

I dated regularly, but kept things casual, always using lines like “I’m focusing on my schooling, or I’m not looking for anything serious.”

The truth was that I was looking, and I did want something serious, I just hadn’t found anyone I wanted to invest my time in… yet. I didn’t know what I was searching for, but the missionary position, quick and sweet wasn’t doing it for me, that I did know. I had enough experience with kink to know that the vanilla lifestyle with marriage and babies, white picket fences, and romance was not for me. Although I am a hopeless romantic at heart, I fought that for many years before I finally accepted it. But I digress.

I was taking an advanced math class, something to assist with medication administration. Sometimes I would have to do the numbers for dosages in my head and I thought the extra mathematics course would help. It may have, had the professor not been him. Professor Saxe. He was 100% man, unlike the boys that I associated with. From the stubble on his cheeks to the calloused hands under rolled-up sleeves, the way his jeans bulged in all the right places, and how his lean lines ended in the best shoes a man could own, I was addicted.

I made my attraction evident. Always a flirt and holding more confidence in myself than I do now, I had no issues using my assets to assist in my advances. Each day I would do something to gain his attention. I’d purposely throw my pencil to the bottom of my bag and then have to ask to borrow one of his. As he would pass it to me, I’d let my fingers linger a little too long on his as I graciously accepted his offering. Or I’d wait until the end of class to ask a question that was quite obvious, or one he’d already covered, just to watch his mouth move so I could dream about what other things that beautiful mouth should be doing. I always made sure to ask questions I knew the answer to though, as paying attention was not what these questions were for. Once I even pretended to trip down the gallery stairs, so he would have to assist me in standing up. His warm hand placed on my overly heated skin almost made me combust on the spot. I knew that he knew, but he was a gentleman, of a sort.

His class was supposed to help me get ahead, but I found him so distracting that I fell behind quite quickly. While he would be lecturing about Pythagoras theory and what algorithms were and how to use them, my mind would wander to his chalk covered fingers and where I’d like them to be, or his wavey, silky dark hair and how I wanted to grip it in my fists as I gyrated against his face. Most of my time in his class was spent in another world, one of my own making, an almost torturous one at that.

Many days I left his class a little damp around the edges. Around mid-term, I started packing a clean pair of panties in my bag, so I could change out the wet ones throughout the day. It got so bad that I would continuously squirm in my seat, trying to alleviate some of the built-up tension, only to rush to my dorm room at the days end to rub one out quickly. Not that it helped at the start of the next day.

This all finally came to a head when he noticed me writhing in my seat. I just needed to get through this last class of the day and I would be free for the weekend, but most importantly, free to scratch the itch he so often gave me. I was trying not to concentrate on his pacing steps, or how his hands moved rapidly when he was excited. I definitely wasn’t paying attention to the swell that lined the crotch of his pants (okay, I was). The seconds seemed to be slowing down as each minute passed. The sexual energy inside me was almost unbearable and if I didn’t get out of there soon, I was going to cause the entire room a world of embarrassment.

His eyes landed on me and stayed there. He finished the last three minutes of his lecture focused directly on me. At first, I thought maybe he was looking behind me, but there was no one there. Having his eyes trained on me caused the squirming to almost become convulsions. I couldn’t clear my head and I was barely breathing, although the pull of each breath sounded like a tidal wave in my ears. I felt the flush grow up my neck and fill my face, and yet, he continued to stare. I looked at the clock, ten seconds to go. He finished his lecture, dismissed the class, and then said, “Miss K (I wasn’t married yet, obviously), can I see you before you leave. I need to discuss this assignment with you.” He was holding up an assignment with a great big F on it. So embarrassing.

I swallowed my pride and the lump in my throat, uncrossing and recrossing then uncrossing my legs again. Standing I smoothed out my jeans, packed my bag, and slowly made my way to the front. I’m sure he could hear the squishing sound the moisture my vagina had created was emanating as I took each step. My steps were slow and I probably looked like I had an issue with my gait, but eventually, I stood in front of him, red-faced.

“Yes, Professor?” I asked sweetly, doing my best to appear attractive even though I was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and probably smelled like a whore-house. His smile spread ear to ear, his nostrils flaring as he took in a deep breath. “This isn’t your assignment, Miss K, you’ve never gotten an F in my class, but you’re not far off. I know you can do better than this, but you seem to be distracted.”

Oh my god! This was not happening! Only it was. Yes, I was distracted, by him, and his long fingers, kissable lips, and tight buttocks. Not that I would tell him that.

“I have a proposition for you,” he continued walking towards me, causing me to step back. Each step I took, he took another until my bottom hit the edge of his desk and we came to a stop. His hands came down on each side of my hips, caging me in. My breathing stopped as I gulped air. Having him in such proximity made me a bucket of nerves. Watching him from afar and fantasizing about all the things I wanted him to do to me was one thing, having him so close, his scent drifting up my nose, his sweet minty breath on my face made parts of me come alive, parts I didn’t know existed. My nipples were painfully tight, and my core felt like it would implode.

“A proposition?” I asked although it sounded more like a squeak.

“Yes, an important job. One made for someone like you.” I swallowed then, his mouth was inches from my own and I watched his lips move but I was thinking about his lips on mine.

“Yes, a job for me,” I replied huskily.

 Stepping back abruptly he continued, “I need help marking papers as I have picked up another professor’s class. I know you know the material as you do very well on exams, you’re just not here (he said this while waving his hands around his head) during class. If you assist me with that, I can give you extra credit and get your marks up. You’ll need to gather them on Fridays and return them on Wednesday mornings. It won’t be for this class, but others, all related to your studies.”

I knew it was an odd proposition. Most professors had a student that they entrusted with this sort of thing but usually, it was one that would benefit from the extra credit. I didn’t need it, the class was just to fill an empty slot in my schedule and keep me as a full-time student as well as to help with my future career. I was guaranteed to graduate already.

But thinking this would give me a chance to see him more often and also help me get my mark up, I said I would do it. We agreed that I would start the following week. As I was leaving his class, he called out my name and as I turned he said, “You smell great, by the way.” Whatever blush had receded from my now stoic face, rekindled like a flame and his grin told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

The rest of the semester flew by. I saw Professor Saxe each day, marked papers on the weekends, and did my best to keep my head in the game when I was around him. I sort of got a hold on my arousal, although it would spring up when I least expected it. Like when his hand would reach out to collect the papers, or he’d run those same veiny hands through his head of luscious hair. Okay, I didn’t have a hold of it, but I was better at hiding it, I thought.

The end of the semester came and I was outside the gallery looking at my final marks on the bulletin board. I had passed his class with a better mark than I deserved and thought I should thank him for giving me the extra chance. He could have let me fall on my face, but he was gracious enough to give me a hand. Maybe not the hand I wanted originally, but with college ending, I knew it was for the best.

When I entered the room, another student was there. They were discussing his mark and Professor Saxe was explaining the difference between a question and how the solution was easily pointed out. I wasn’t really listening and wandered away as to the be out of hearing distance. The student left as I was reading a poster and I heard Professor Saxe clear his throat behind me. I turned to find him wearing his panty-melting smirk, the one I had fantasised about him giving me a thousand times. I steeled my spine and walked towards him.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the extra chance and for having mercy on me. You could have let me fail, but I’m thankful you didn’t.” I stuck my right hand out, to shake his and he gripped it firmly. My breath stuck in my throat as his flesh connected with mine, the crush that I thought I had under control anything but. His thumb started sliding back and forth against the back of my hand, tenderly and soft. The intimacy of it made my breathing quicken and I thought my knees might give out.

“It’s been a pleasure Miss K. You’re were a great student and I think you’ll be an excellent nurse. I appreciate all your help with the papers as I literally could not have done it without you.”

I nodded my head in affirmation, but couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. He chuckled a bit and let my hand go, stepping back. I said an awkward farewell and hurried to the door, thankful for the extra set of panties.

“Miss K,” he said just as I reached my escape. I took a breath and turned, placing a smile on my face. “I don’t sleep with students Miss K, but if I had of met you somewhere else in another time, I wouldn’t have been able to resist. Take care of yourself.”

I was flabbergasted. I knew that I had been obvious, that was the point of my shenanigans, but I didn’t think he’d say something, or actually be interested. The world is full of comic tragedies.

Three years later I was out for dinner with some friends. We had taken up a corner booth of a pub and were rather boisterous in our escapades. My friend Jenn was moving to Europe the following morning and we wanted to give her a proper going away. Janine was up singing karaoke, the others dancing to her off-tune savagery. I was hiding in the corner, pretending I didn’t know them and trying to not be the next victim of the stage. I had one hand hiding my face, like that would save me from the onslaught, the other holding my straw as I all but guzzled my drink. I was looking around when I heard a familiar throat clearing.

Turning my head I gasped, almost choking as I swallowed. I cleared my throat and said, “Professor Saxe, fancy seeing you here.”

His smile could have lit up the room, but I wouldn’t know because I was looking at him as the room vanished from view. “Miss K, you can call me Ben now, unless you prefer Professor,” he said with a raised brow. That familiar feeling in my groin returned at this, I had almost forgotten the effect this man had on me. Almost.

“If you’re going to continue calling me Miss K, then I guess professor it is,” I replied sassily, my return smile splitting my face.

“Come home with me and you can call me whatever you want Miss K. You’re no longer a student and I believe this is another time and place.”

How could I resist? Jenn forgave me, eventually.

If you’re wondering, the wait was totally worth it, although he moved to the United States a couple of months later. He’s still a professor to this day, married, with a beautiful family.

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