The clock on my laptop read 9:17 pm when my phone buzzed on the cluttered desk of my tiny off-campus apartment. Professor Marcus Kane. I stared at his name, heart already picking up speed. The email had been curt: my latest marketing report needed immediate revisions. Tonight.
I slipped into a short silk robe over my tank top and panties, slid my feet into heels that made my legs look endless, and walked across the quiet courtyard to the faculty building. The halls were empty, just the faint hum of vending machines and distant traffic. His office door stood slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the corridor.
“Come in and close the door, Brooke,” he said before I could even knock. His voice carried that same commanding tone he used in lectures. I stepped inside, pulse racing. Professor Kane sat behind his desk in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking far too composed for the hour. He was thirty-eight, broad-shouldered, with sharp features that made half the campus daydream. I was twenty-one, in my final year, and had spent far too many classes imagining what lay beneath those tailored trousers.
He didn’t offer me a seat. Instead he pushed a printed copy of my report toward me. “Read the opening paragraph aloud. Slowly.”
I obeyed, voice catching as his gaze traveled down my bare legs. The robe barely reached mid-thigh. Every time I stumbled over a word, his eyebrow arched. The air between us thickened until I could hardly breathe.
“You’re distracted tonight,” he observed, leaning back in his leather chair. “Eyes on the page, not on me.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. I tried again, but my attention kept drifting to the way his fingers drummed the desk. When I finally reached the end, he stood up. The height difference felt suddenly overwhelming.
“I think we both know this report isn’t the real issue here, Brooke. You’ve been watching me for weeks. Those lingering looks after class. The way you cross and uncross your legs in the front row.” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “It’s time you learned what happens when you tease your professor.”
My breath hitched. This wasn’t in any syllabus. Yet my body responded instantly, nipples tightening against the thin fabric of my tank. He noticed, of course.
“Take off the robe. Now.”
The command sent a shiver straight between my thighs. I let the silk slide from my shoulders and pool at my feet. He circled me slowly, appraising. His fingers brushed my hip, light as a threat.
“Such a bold choice of outfit for a meeting with your superior. Were you hoping for exactly this?”
I nodded before I could stop myself. His smile was predatory. In one smooth motion he gripped my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes.
“Words, Brooke. Use them.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I wanted this.”
He guided me to the edge of his wide oak desk and bent me forward over it. The wood was cool against my breasts through the thin tank. I heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, then the whisper of leather sliding free. My stomach flipped with anticipation.
The first stroke landed across my ass with a sharp crack. I gasped, more from surprise than pain. He paused, waiting. When I didn’t protest, the second followed, harder. By the fifth my skin burned in the most delicious way, each impact sending sparks of heat straight to my core. I could feel myself growing wet, thighs trembling.
“Count them,” he ordered, voice rough now.
“Six… seven…” My voice broke on eight as his free hand slipped between my legs, discovering exactly how soaked I was. He hummed in approval, fingers teasing my swollen clit through the damp fabric of my panties before yanking them down to my ankles.
The belt clattered to the floor. I heard his zipper next. Then the unmistakable heat of his thick cock pressing against my ass. He rubbed the head along my slick folds, coating himself in my arousal.
“Beg for it,” he murmured against my ear, one hand fisting lightly in my hair.
“Please, Professor… fuck me.” The words felt filthy and perfect leaving my mouth.
He thrust inside me in one long stroke, stretching me open. I moaned loudly, grateful the building was deserted. He filled me completely, hips snapping forward with controlled power. Each deep thrust pushed me harder against the desk, papers scattering everywhere. His hand came around to circle my clit in tight, perfect strokes while he drove into me again and again.
I came first, sudden and shattering, clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He didn’t slow down. Instead he pulled out, spun me around, and lifted me onto the desk. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he sank back inside me, eyes locked on mine.
“Look at me while I fuck you,” he growled. His rhythm grew faster, more urgent. I could feel another climax building, tighter this time. He pinched my nipple through my tank top and that was all it took. I cried out his name, trembling violently around him.
Only then did he let go. With a low groan he buried himself deep and came, pulsing hot inside me. For long moments we stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.
He eventually stepped back, helping me down on shaky legs. I expected him to hand me my robe and dismiss me. Instead he pulled me into his lap in the big leather chair, stroking my hair with surprising gentleness.
“This doesn’t end here,” he said quietly, lips brushing my temple. “My place tomorrow night. Eight sharp. Wear nothing underneath whatever dress you choose.”
I smiled against his neck, already imagining it. “Yes, Professor.”
Outside, the campus was still dark and quiet as I walked back to my apartment on unsteady legs, his cum slowly dripping down my inner thigh. I couldn’t wait for our next private tutorial.
October 12th
The second time was at his sleek downtown condo overlooking the river. He greeted me at the door in just grey sweatpants that did nothing to hide how hard he already was. No preamble this time. He pushed me against the wall the moment the door clicked shut, dropping to his knees and burying his face between my thighs. His tongue was relentless, licking and sucking until I came with my fingers tangled in his hair and my cries echoing off the high ceilings.
Later we made it to his king-sized bed. He took his time exploring every inch of me, mapping my body with hands and mouth. When he finally slid inside me again, it was slow and deep, eyes never leaving mine. I lost count of how many times he made me come before he finally allowed himself release, groaning my name like a prayer.
October 19th
We’ve developed a rhythm now. Office hours have become our coded invitation. Last night he bent me over the conference table in the empty department lounge after a late faculty meeting. The risk of getting caught made everything sharper, hotter. I had to bite my own wrist to stay quiet when he fucked me from behind, one hand covering my mouth while the other rubbed my clit.
I never imagined my final semester would include this kind of advanced education. Every encounter leaves me aching in the best ways, counting the hours until the next summons. Professor Kane has become my favorite subject, and I’m determined to ace every single lesson.