I loved my philosophy professor.
He was the perfect teacher. So well spoken and inspiring. His softness was a huge relief in the cesspool of horrible professors and TAs at my school.
It makes you wonder, all of them being so desensitized in their work, why actual pedagogical training is not a requirement for professors.
They are teachers after all. The job requires at least a bare minimum level of social competency.
Even better if they have an understanding on how to engage with students and empower them to learn — to experience.
Professor Galanis did an exceptionally good job of this. Everyone enjoyed his classes and teaching style. And of course, like any funny middle-aged male teacher, Professor Galanis also had favourites.
I happened to be one of them.
Your very ordinary classmate who always sits in the farthest right corner of the 3rd row.
That was the spot I felt the safest, far away from most of the crowd in class. Don’t get me wrong, I had certain people in class that I enjoyed engaging with on the occasion — study groups and all that. But, I set the precedent pretty quickly.
I liked my space.
The only interaction I’d cared to look forward to was that special time alone with Professor Galanis on Wednesday’s before supper time.
Between 5 and 6 o’clock, I’d be moaning my little chest out in the back of his mini-van.
Was it the sexiest of environments to have shivering orgasms? No, absolutely not.
But I eagerly looked forward to them, my Wednesdays — the perfect day to have a release. My Thursday’s and Friday’s always felt a bit lighter and all weekend I would slyly count down the days until Wednesday came.
Are you frowning upon this?^
Please.
We’ve all experienced it. The desire to fuck your teacher.
Or…
The desire to know what was going on behind the faces of your classmates. How many of them are not who they seem to be?
Well lucky for you, it’s me. I’m classmate. I’m the girl who happily fucked her professor for a little extra attention and school credit in her philosophy class.
I wasn’t ashamed of it one bit. No.
In fact, I loved it. I loved letting him use my pretty pink pussy in the seat of his car. A seat his family surely used, blissfully ignorant as to what messy activities soaked it every Wednesday evening.
As I walked my way to the empty parking lot, I got a glimpse of the only car there — his.
Without fail, I was already soaking wet. The thin cotton fabric of my panties could only do so much to contain my slick. Thick lips puffing out the seams. Just a thin twist of fabric rubbing — wedging its way up to my throbbing clit.
“Mmmmm…” I moaned, clutching my textbook against my chest, fingers gripping into the 100s of pages. Micro paper-cuts lining my red fingertips.
I need this release so bad.
Exams were around the corner and I devoted most of my time studying for every other important exam, neglecting only the philosophy final.
I wasn’t all that worried though. Professor Galanis had a thing for teaching me all the details of what we learned in class. All while his fingers circled, prodded, thrusted, and cupped my pussy into cumming hard in his seat.
He was a dedicated professor. Dedicated to the success of his students.
And who was I to complain? It helped.
I was thinking about his long creasy fingers all the damn time anyways — might as well learn something I’ll remember while we’re at it.
“I like the skirt.” He pointed and smiled as I approached. “I saw you wearing it in class. I only got the chance to see it when you got up.”
His hands wrapped themselves around mine. He embraced me for a quick second before guiding me a few steps back. Looking down at the hem of my skirt, he groaned.
“I get to really appreciate it now.” My legs quivered at the thighs. “Mmmm, very good choice my dear.”
His grin was double the size today. I knew the skirt would make him happy. Make it so easy. Make it so tempting for him.
Having classes on Wednesday meant I could tease him for a few hours. Watch him squirm to keep his composure as he taught 150 university students.
Usually, he did pretty well. That’s what it made it all the more fun.
The sultry chance to do something unexpected and watch his reaction live. It only spurred me on more.
Like edging myself for the duration of the class — a leisure 2 hours of play.
Inside his van, I went down into my proper position with the seat of the chair laid flat and pushed all the way back.
Professor Galanis knelt in front of me, his eyes glued to the rising fabric of my skirt. The unveiling of curtains to a show I knew he’d be only too tempted to see.
Underneath that flowy skirt, lay nothing but a barrier-less space to my slick wet pussy. The lips, visually held together by the faintest little strands of wetness, like lines of pure silk.
“Oh, good lord.” The pleasant grumble in his voice was all the approval I needed. He liked what he was seeing.
“This little slutty stunt should earn me an amazing experiential lesson today.” I thought. “Perfect prep and review for the upcoming exam.”
I leaned forward to get a better view, wanting to watch as he laid his index finger right against my slit, pushing the dIgit in ever so slightly.
T e a s i n g my clit.
“Mmmm, Professor.” I moaned, head falling weightlessly into the head rest. My body collapsing to his assertive, yet patient touch.
No matter how good the plate of food looked, he always took his time to savour it.
I knew what was coming.
I knew I’d be cumming hard on his fingers and tongue within the next 2 minutes.
Pushing a little harder into my slit, his free hand began working up, under the crumbled fabric of my skirt. Exploring the skirt with an intensity of satisfaction I had never seen before.
Bitting raw into my bottom lip, I shuttered as his fingers tickled the goosebumps on my stomach.
“You’re learning so fast. Getting so efficient with our one-on-one study session, like the good girl you are.”
I whimpered. An achy “mmmhhmm,” was all I could manage.
“So intelligent like the philosopher we learned about today.”
His digit was moving now, circling at my clit, moving faster as he began explaining the lecture material from earlier today.
Like every week, I did my best to fight against the rhythm of his fingers. I learned to hold onto my attention for a few seconds longer each time. Trying my darn hardest to memorize his breathy words.
The way he spoke, a deep whisper, as he focused his attention on my dripping wet, gushing pussy.
Eventually it all blurs together in my mind, like a rush of thoughts being washed away by a dark nothingness. Like fireworks in a night sky, my mind falls into a blissful abyss filled with jolts of addicting energy. The pleasure of an orgasm consumes me like an adulterous black hole.
I love every second of it. Forgetting why I’m even here every week. Only caring for the amazing pleasure of my Professor’s finger.
As an A+ student, I highly recommend.
Note: I definitely want to introduce this story as a series because it deserves that level of suspense! What do you think? Part 2? Yes? Cumming!
submitted by /u/Many-Hippo-9452
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