4 comments/ 62067 views/ 13 favorites Professor Kale By: grrlongrrrl I almost never go to Starbucks. I actually hate coffee, all coffee. I don't even like the gritty, dark smell of it. Generally, I think Starbucks is a plague. Their muffins, however, are fine if you're starving, which, on that day, I was, and you don't have any other options, which I didn't. That's why I was standing in a place I never go, waiting to pay for a thing I never buy, when I heard someone ahead of me in line say to her friend that she loved to be fucked and her hair pulled. Hard, she said. Hard and long and deep until she collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap. Her friend giggled in a way that was low and shrill at the same time. Then, she said, she wanted him to blow his load on her tits. She said his name and I recognized it from someplace. She loved it when he spanked her ass, she said, when he manhandled her. She had bite marks on her tit, she said, a colorful circle right on the side. Her friend giggled again. Freaks. Then she turned and saw me, and we both went pale. She was my physics teacher, Professor Kale. "Kelly!" she burst out. Oh Jesus. The name. The name she said. I remembered where I'd heard it before. He was in her class as well, a big dumb jock with no business in an upper division physics course. Suddenly it made sense. He was nailing Professor Kale, and she, in turn, was passing his stupid, lazy ass. Her friend was someone I didn't know, a short, pear-shaped blonde in a black sweater and jeans that were too high-waisted and too snug for someone built like her. She was the Yin to Professor Kale's tall, slender, busty Yang. Kale looked at me trying to figure out if I had overheard her. She must have realized I had because she started blushing like crazy. That made me blush too. Well, that and the fact that my nipples were hard as rocks from thinking about her getting fucked from behind with the jock's fist knotted in her hair. Or maybe my fist in her hair as I pulled her face into my pussy. I had to get out of there. "Nice seeing you," I said quickly, and then I turned around and bolted. I got to my car and fumbled with the keys. She came up behind me. "Kelly," she said. I turned around. "You know, don't you? You heard me. You heard what I said." I didn't say anything. "You aren't going to tell anyone are you?" I shook my head. "I could give a shit if you fuck a student." Though I sort of wish it was me, I thought. I was pretty sure Kale was arrow-straight though, not even bisexual, so it was never going to happen. It was a nice thought though, Kale eating my box, looking up at me with my juices all over her cheeks. My pussy tingled briefly at the thought. She looked at me a moment more and then went back into Starbucks. I figured that was the end of it. I didn't think about Kale fucking that kid again until class the following Monday, and then only briefly at the start of her lecture. But then she asked me to stay after class. "What is it?" I asked as the rest of the students filed out of the room. She sat on her desk and took off her glasses and waited until the last of them were gone before looking at me and replying. "I don't like this." "You don't like what?" "You knowing about my little...indiscretion." "I told you I could care less. It's your business. I don't care what you do as long as..." Then something occurred to me. "Hey. You're not going to fail me or something are you?" "If I did, you'd go to the dean. You have me in a tight spot." She smiled thinly. I shrugged. I could see why she was nervous. "That's not how I work." She bit her lip. She was old enough to be my mom (almost), but she was sexy. Medium brown hair held in a loose bun by a pair of chopsticks, white blouse under a dark blazer and matching skirt. No hose, but her crossed legs were tan and smooth down to her graceful, strappy pumps. It made me feel self-conscious, the rings in my ears and nose, my ponytail, my jeans and sneakers and baggy tshirt, braless small B-cup tits . It made me angry, thinking about it. "Maybe you could give me a little something to reassure me," she said. Gibe her something? What the hell was she talking about? "Wait. You want me to give you some dirt on me so you can feel better about me knowing you're getting nailed by a student?" I laughed. "Not. Happening." In my mind I was already out of there. She moved slightly, leaned to the left a bit. Her blouse gapped, showing a bit more cleavage. "You're gay, right? You like women." That stopped me. My anger dissipated. She was looking at me and I met her eye, then I nodded, glancing at her full, graceful chest. She looked me up and down. "You seem like the aggressive type. More...butch? Right? Even though you have a very sexy, feminine body. And such a pretty face." Not the first time I heard that. But she had my attention. "Yeah, I'm pretty much butch though." "Well...what if I said I wanted you to fuck me?" She said it with her voice lowered. She uncrossed her legs and spread them as far as the skirt allowed. Didn't show anything, but it was a very hot gesture. She reached out and ran her fingers over my nipple through my shirt. It was already as hard as a glass bead. Then she gave my tit a gentle squeeze, looking at my face. I couldn't hide it...it felt good. She smiled, squeezed again, started slowly caressing my little tit , running her fingers over my hard, burning nipple. I was speechless, paralyzed, which is unusual for me. I am not the most experience dyke in the world, but in the past I've been much more aggressive, more confident. One touch and she had me at her mercy. I could just watch her face as she was squeezing my titty. She looked like she was enjoying it. I had to do something though. So I slid my shirt up, baring my hard tit, and then put my hand on the back of her head and pulled her forward. She got the idea and started sucking my nipple, doing something with her tongue I couldn't figure out but that felt awesome. My head tipped back and I moaned. Then she moaned. By the way ladies, a sexy woman moaning while sucking your tit...if you haven't tried it, do. Then I took her hands and guided them to the buttons of my jeans. Once again she was quick on the uptake, and unfastened them, sliding her hand inside. My junk was all slippery under her fingers, my clit hard. She took her mouth off my tit and smile up at me. "You're all wet." Then she took her fingers away from my junk and licked them. "And shaved. Nasty girl." Then back down my pants, stroking my slick, swollen box. I moaned again, standing with my legs apart. My hands were trembling as I unbuttoned her blouse. She took her hand out of my pants so I could strip it off her, and then he bra went as well. No tan lines, by the way. I think tan lines are sexy, but I wasn't complaining. I could see the teethmarks her boy toy had left. He definitely got a big mouthful of tit. I put my hands on her tits, squeezing them kind of hard. She gasped, and when I pinched her brown nipples she squealed. I shit you not, she squealed with this sexy sort of wincing smile on her face. I pinched them again, tugging, and kissed her mouth. I caught her squeal with my lips, and she dissolved into a moan, draping her warm arms around me, pressing those big, soft sexy titties against my little hard ones, wrapping her legs around my ass, drawing me in. Our mouths slid against one another, tongues teasing. She sucked mine a bit, biting it gently. I moaned again, loving the feel of her body. I pulled away and whispered "Lay down on the desk." "What do you want me to do?" "Lay down." I repeated. My voice was breathless. "I'm going to sit on your face." Her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and delight. I pulled down my jeans as she laid down, and I straddled her face, sitting on her tits, my box just above her face. I grabbed her head and pulled it up, her mouth against my twat, and that slut went right to it. Tongue-fucking me, flicking and sucking my clit, sucking my cuntlips, like she'd been doing it for years. I ground against her face, moaning and telling her she was eating me so good, so fucking good. I reached a hand back and tugged her skirt up. Kale had a g-string on, and I slid my hand in there and started rubbing her slow and easy, teasing. She raised her hips up, trying to get more pressure, but I backed off. She couldn't do much with me sitting on her face, but she kept trying until I smacked her pussy and said "Hold still!" Then I kept teasing her clit, driving her batshit just cause I could and I liked it. She took her mouth away and panted "God you fucking tease." Her lips and cheeks were coated and shining. I pulled her face against my box and shoved two fingers in her twat, curling them up inside the way I know I like and rubbing just so...ladies, it helps to have the same equipment as what you're working on. She kept working on me even though she was bucking and moaning like crazy, and I knew I was going to cum soon. I was so on fire, a drop of cold water on my bellybutton would have sent me. Then she came. Kale let out a wail against my twat, and that was all she wrote. My legs clamped like a vice around her head and I moaned and hissed, shuddering like I do when I cum hard. Yes it was that fucking good. Kale moaned and wailed and shook like she had swallowed a paint-mixing machine. Eventually we both relaxed, and I climbed off her. We helped each other get dressed, not really talking, just kind of smiling. As she finished buttoning up, she said, "How will we top that next time?" I told her, and she squealed again. Professor Kane's Erotic Dreams Professor Joel Kane's eyes began to glaze over as he read what he dearly hoped was the last page of the ecology student essay: 'What a thrill it would be to walk the plains of North America as they were in the Pleistocene Age, twelve thousand years ago. To see great herds of camels, mammoths, and ground sloths, and other species of megafauna that soon became extinct. Now they exist only as fossils.' Joel took another sip of decaf, seeing by the clock in his study that it was nearly midnight. The room was lit only by his desk lamp and the nearby street lights of Tulsa. A light mist hung outside in the night air. C'mon, he thought, whoever wrote this, please let it be the last page. His policy when grading essays by his students at Marland University was to fold back the cover page, so that he did not know the name of the writer and could be completely objective as he read the essay. Like all teachers, Joel felt a natural fondness for some of his students. Others irritated the hell out of him. He read the last sentences on the page: 'We may never know what caused this great extinction of mammals: climate change, overhunting by humans, or even a catastrophe like a meteor impact. But it will continue to be debated for years to come.' Finally! Joel thought in relief. Last essay finished. Only then did he notice that there was yet another page attached to the essay. With a deep sigh, he turned the page and began to read once more: 'Thrills of ecstasy coursed through Amy as her lips glided down Ryan's cock, letting his smooth hard manhood fill her mouth. She hesitated, and then drew the cock deep into her throat. Moaning quietly, she swallowed all of her lover. She savored the masculine scent of him as she buried her face in his dark pubic hair. Her throat muscles gently massaged his thick shaft even as her lips firmly squeezed the base of his cock.' What the hell? Joel thought. What does this have to do with theories on megafauna extinction? Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued to read: 'With his cock still deep in her throat, Amy sighed as Ryan's hand glided over her soft, pear-shaped buttocks. He then moved his hand down to caress her swollen pussy lips. She gasped slightly as first one finger, then a second probed and gently thrust back and forth in her wet pussy.' 'She drew up from his cock. Shaking her thick mane of red hair, she gazed at her lover, a look of raw passion on her face. Her emerald green eyes smoldered as Ryan continued to explore the warmth and wetness of her pussy with his right hand, while the other caressed her enormous breasts, cream-colored works of perfection. "Oh Amy," Ryan murmured, entirely under the spell of this sexy young goddess. "Sometimes I think you are too beautiful! I can't resist you! No man could!" The girl licked her pink lips and spoke, the voice of a woman who knows what she wants. "Then show it," she said in a low, sensual tone. "Fuck me, Ryan. I need a hard cock, and we've all night here in this cabin. Yes, fuck me again and again! To hell with school and my parents and our fiancées! I just want your big cock deep in me!" "God, yes, Amy!" the man cried. The lovers joined in a deep passionate kiss, a kiss that expressed all the pent up desires that coursed through their bodies. Then, Ryan eased Amy over onto her back. She spread her legs, eager to feel his hard throbbing cock enter her.' Whoa, Joel thought, this is hot. Who wrote it? He quickly turned to the cover page and read the title: 'Current Ideas on Pleistocene Megafauna Extinction, by Amy Collins' Amy Collins? he thought. Who is she? I don't know her yet. Joel ticked off in his mind the coeds who had caught his eye during the first month of his course, Biology 202, General Ecology. Hmm, there's Jennifer, cute brunette with bedroom eyes; Rachel, voluptuous and with an air of availability. And buxom Ashley; sits in the first row, always wears something cut low to show décolletage. Lovely Victoria: tall, lithe; moves like a cat on the prowl. Amy Collins? Joel struggled to recall the other twenty or so students in the class. Finally it came to him. Oh yes. Shy, mousy little thing. She sits near the back of the class on the left. Wears horn-rimmed glasses; hasn't asked a question all semester. Joel smiled to himself. Well now, little Amy Collins, why did you include some hard core erotica in your ecology essay? How should I handle it? He was tempted to write something clever at the top of the last page: This belongs in our Sexology 101 class! Or perhaps, Did you fully research this part of your essay! He glanced again at the essay, noticing that the first four sheets were perfectly aligned, but the last sheet, on which was written the sex scene, was not. That sheet was barely held by the staple that bound the pages together. An idea grew into certainty. This was, of course, an accident. Sweet little Amy never meant to include it in her essay. She picked up the essay from her desk or her printer, and hurriedly stapled the sheets together. She didn't know that she'd inadvertently added a steamy sex scene she'd written. Has she realized it by now? I wonder what she'll do tomorrow in class, he thought. Let's try an experiment. With a slight grin, Joel carefully pried open the staple holding the essay sheets. He removed the last page; then, pressed the staple back just as it had been. ******* The next morning, Professor Joel Kane stood before his full-length bedroom mirror, admiring what he saw. His self-assured look; dark stylishly cut hair. He wore eyeglasses, Versace of course, and a sweater vest to project an image of the scholar. But Joel old boy, he thought, you're still a babe magnet. His glacier blue eyes, chiseled features, and buff six-foot frame guaranteed that. Thank goodness for good genes and a good gym, he mused. Since his teen years, he's received admiring looks from many women. Looks that often led to the inevitable: the woman, her thighs pressed firmly against his torso, crying out in passion as he took a man's pleasure with her. He glance briefly to the picture of Brianna Taylor on his nightstand. Buxom Brianna, her lush body a garden of delights in bed, as well he knew. Although not officially engaged, it was only a matter of time. He, a handsome young professor; she, a lovely young financial analyst, both from the best families in Tulsa. They were meant for each other. Everyone said so. Three hours later, Joel entered the ecology lecture hall and began to spread student essays along the long desk at the front of the room. "Okay," he announced to the class, "I've graded all your essays. Come and get them." There was a clamor as every student came forward to retrieve their essay. His eyes went to Amy Collins in the back. Slight of build, she was dressed modestly in jeans and a loose-fitting knit sweater. A distinct blush on her cheeks, she approached the desk and picked up her essay. Swallowing hard, she looked at the grade, A-, on the second page. She then did exactly what Joel expected. Amy quickly looked at the last page of her essay; then, heaved a quiet sigh of relief. Joel, standing on the other side of the desk, watched with keen interest. He noticed that Amy's light brown hair, cut very short and parted off center, was in fact soft and luxuriant. Their eyes met. Amy's chocolate brown eyes were surprisingly large and expressive; the sort of eyes a man can stare into and lose all track of time. He glanced down to her lips, startled to see how full and pink they were. The thought came unbidden: lips perfect for kissing a man; for enclosing a man's cock. Amy eyed him nervously. Joel could not resist saying, "Yes, Amy? What is it?" "Nothing, Professor Kane," she replied in a quiet voice. She turned and walked, indeed scurried, back to her desk in the rear of the room. Her jeans outlined a firm round derriere that drew Joel's eyes like a magnet. He shook his head, surprised by the effect Amy had had on him. What's come over me, he thought. She's still a little mouse, nothing like Victoria or Jennifer. And yet ... ******* That evening, Joel read Science magazine, enjoying an extra brandy before going to bed early. Sometime later, he found himself on an open, wind-swept prairie, gazing at a herd of wooly mammoths in the distance. He looked down and saw that he was completely naked. Then the Indian girl was there, her brown eyes gleaming as she looked at him. She undid the ties to her buckskin dress. It fell to the ground, revealing her own nude body. She ran her tongue over her pink lips; then, knelt before Joel. She grasped his semi-hard cock in her slim hand. With a slight smile, she murmured, "I'd love to suck your cock, Professor Kane. May I? I want to feel it deep in my throat." The girl did not wait for an answer. Joel shuddered in pure delight as he felt his cock engulfed by the warmth and wetness of her mouth. Now watching a lumbering ground sloth nearby, the man sighed as the girl held his buttocks with her hands and slowly, easily, swallowed all of him. She then held the cock, gently massaging it with her throat muscles. Joel gasped again as he suddenly awakened. He stared up at the bedroom ceiling, breathing hard. His cock was fully stiff and erect. The slightest touch would send him into an orgasm. Joel now recalled the dream. It had seemed so real. The Indian maiden, her mouth giving pleasure beyond imagining. And her lustrous brown eyes. Not the eyes of my lovely Brianna. Not those of my front row sex kittens Ashley or Victoria. No. The girl whose eyes looked deep into mine, whose mouth pleasured my cock, was Amy Collins. Shy, mousy little Amy Collins. What the hell is going on? ******* Love, said the philosopher Pascal, has reasons which reason cannot understand. Perhaps it is the same when a man becomes infatuated with a young woman. There is no logic, no rational principle to it. It merely happens. Joel's days became filled with thoughts of Amy Collins. At night she appeared in his dreams, raising him to levels of sexual excitement that he never felt with any woman. In one recurring dream, Amy came to the lecture hall and studiously took notes. Only Joel seemed aware that she was in fact stark naked. In another dream, Joel stood at the chalk board, describing the principles of plant succession. The students quietly watched and listened. None seemed to notice that Amy had walked to the front of the room, knelt before her professor, unzipped his pants, and drawn out his manhood. She calmly sucked his cock even as he lectured. Joel never paused or hesitated as he talked. Joel was sure that had Amy been a voluptuary like Rachel, who displayed her charms to one and all, he would not have been so fascinated with her. Had Amy been a flirtatious slut, her name well-known at every fraternity house, he would not feel this way. No. What held him in her grip was the fact that here was a plain, ordinary young woman, yet possessed of a vivid imagination. Seemingly quiet and shy, she harbored within her a secret fantasy world, a world of raw passionate sex. It was that which captivated the man: the striking contrast between what Amy Collins appeared to be and what she truly was. Joel dared not look at her during lectures. The sight of her, peering thoughtfully at him through horn-rimmed glasses, reminded him of his dreams. It invariably aroused him; caused his manhood to stiffen. Is she thinking of ecology, he wondered. Or sex? His lectures suffered. Who is Amy Collins? I must know more about her, he decided. He visited Professor Adrian Lee, who was advisor to all the biology students at Marland. After the usual small talk, Joel asked about the background of his ecology students; say, Amy Collins, for example. "Amy?" the older man replied. "Ah yes, sweet little girl. Smart as a whip, but hasn't had an easy life. She borrowed money to go to college. Comes from over in Red Rock. Ever been there?" "No. Isn't that mostly a Native American town?" "Yep. Otoe-Missouria tribe. Amy's on the tribal rolls, I believe." The news startled Joel. "So, she's like, an Indian maiden?" Lee laughed. "I guess you could call her that. She's about one-fourth native, as I recall." His only refuge from Amy was in Brianna Taylor's arms. Their lovemaking became more passionate than ever. Joel's appetite for sex grew insatiable. Several weeks after reading the fateful essay, Joel and Brianna spent the evening at home, which is to say, in bed. Near midnight, he found himself between the woman's legs, worshiping with his lips and tongue her delectable pussy. He could not get enough of Brianna. His tongue eagerly glided over and into each fold and crevice of her sex. He held her swollen clitoris between his lips as Brianna cried out, clutching his hair with both hands. Then, just before tipping her over the edge into orgasm, Joel drew back, now planting gentle kisses on her puffy labia. He slid up and into her arms. They exchanged kisses flavored with the piquant juices of the young woman's pussy. They paused. Joel could see her half-closed eyes, which he knew to be gray in color, glowing in the faint light coming through the windows. The weather had turned cool; a light mist hung in the night air. "My turn?" Brianna murmured. "If you like." "Oh, I like," she smiled. Then she was on her knees beside him, holding his hard cock and planting soft kisses on the head. Joel's right hand moved over her thighs and her magnificent derriere. Then to a pussy that now felt drenched and possessed of a heat of its own. Joel held his breath as Brianna took his manhood. Most of the shaft glided into her mouth. Soon she was slowly and rhythmically sucking his cock. The man felt he might explode from the pure delight of it all. "Aah, yes," he sighed. "Oh god Amy, that's wonderful." Joel would later decide that a period of about three seconds elapsed as Brianna froze, now holding his cock such that her teeth touched his shaft. Then, like a tigress, she rose up and pounced on him. "Amy? Who the hell is Amy!" she said through gritted teeth. Stunned by how quickly things had turned, Joel looked at her, speechless. He saw her yellow hair outlined by the street lights; the gleam of moisture on her lips and her forehead. "What?" he finally gasped. "You called me Amy, you bastard! Now who the hell is she?" The words were fired at him like bullets. Joel swallowed. "I don't know. Are you sure I called you that?" "Yes you did." Brianna grabbed his hair and held him roughly. "Listen to me, Joel," she hissed, her eyes mere inches from his, "there is never a good time to accidentally call a woman by another woman's name. But believe me, the worst time of all is when she has your dick in her mouth. Now who is Amy, damn you!" In matters of love, when a woman has suspicions, the cardinal rule for a man is simple: deny, deny, deny. But having made one terrible blunder already tonight, Joel compounded his troubles by telling the truth. He told all: the sex scene Amy had written; his erotic dreams of her. Everything. After he had finished, Brianna sat on the bed, wearing a Ralph Lauren wrap robe and sipping the last of their merlot. "Joel," she began, "none of this makes sense. You've never even talked to the girl? You say she's not all that pretty, and she's one of your students for Pete's sake. And you got turned on because she wrote some porn you accidentally read? It's crazy." Joel nodded. "I know. I thought it would pass, but it hasn't. I try to resist, but every time I look at her in class, instead of a quiet young girl, I see this sexy woman she described in the erotica she wrote. The sexy girl in my dreams. I can't stop thinking about her." After a long silence, Brianna said, "Joel, I think you should leave now." He sighed, and then replied, "We're in my condo tonight." "Oh, right. I forgot. Well, I guess I should be the one to leave." "That sounds rather final." "Maybe it is," Brianna replied in a quiet voice. And it was. ******* The school semester dragged on and finally ended. Grades were given out; the students scattered. As unsettling as it had been to see Amy Collins during his lectures, far worse was to not see her at all. Joel's dreams of her became more vivid than ever. Finally mustering his courage, he donned jeans, a T-shirt under a cotton blazer, and went to the apartment where she lived. Her apartment row was shabby; low rent. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and Amy Collins looked at him in amazement through her horn-rimmed glasses. She was unkempt, wearing an Eskimo Joe T-shirt and faded jeans. Yet even then Joel ached to hold her in his arms; to cover her with kisses. "Professor Kane?" she cried. "What are you doing here? What's happened?" "Nothing, Amy," he replied nervously. "I was ... was in the neighborhood, and thought I'd look you up." Thoroughly nonplussed, the girl stared at him for a moment; then said, "Well, okay, come in, I guess." Joel entered the apartment, noticing the chipped paint on the walls; the cheap furniture; the faint musty aroma of old carpets and old plumbing. Amy looked at him, still seemingly unsure if she were actually seeing the man. "Would like something to drink, Professor Kane? I've got some Sprite." "Yes. No, no, I won't stay long." Now feeling like an awkward teenager, he said, "I actually came to see if... if you would go out on a date with me, Amy." The girl, open mouthed, looked at him in astonishment. "Me?" "Yes." "Me?" she asked again, the dazed look still on her face. "I don't see any other pretty girls in the room," smiled Joel. "And if you're wondering, Marland U. has no policy against unmarried faculty dating students, as long as the student is not in his or her class and won't be in the future." Shaking her head, Amy finally responded. "Well, sure, I suppose so." A wave of relief swept over Joel. "Great. How about this Friday. We could have dinner. Do you like Italian?" "It's okay." "The Pepperoni Grill isn't far from here. We could go there. Pick you up at, say, seven?" The puzzled look remained. "Sure; that's fine." ******* That Friday, a suave professor once again felt himself a nervous teenager as he rang Amy's doorbell. She opened the door and invited him in. Now the girl was dressed in a denim jacket, white knit sweater, and knee-length plaid skirt. Joel smiled as he gazed at her luminous brown eyes and soft lips, saying, "You look quite lovely, Amy. Quite lovely." "Thank you, Professor," she replied in an even voice. "Some flowers for you, of course. And please, call me Joel," he said smoothly, producing a bouquet of carnations and forget-me-nots. Amy smiled. The smile, however, did not reach her eyes. Joel sensed a coolness about Amy that he had not felt before as they drove to the restaurant and were seated. He ordered a nice Chablis. Amy, being only twenty, could only order a Coke. The silence between them grew awkward. Finally, taking a deep breath, Amy began to speak. "Professor Kane ... Joel, I've figured out why you asked me on a date." "Oh?" "Yes." Now blushing, the girl continued. "I sometimes write ... well, erotic stories for myself. And I'm almost certain that one page of a story got accidentally stapled to my first ecology report. It wasn't there when you handed back our essays, but I think you read it. Did you, Joel?" After a pause, Joel said quietly, "Yes Amy, I read it." The girl's eyes grew dark. "Look, I know you're a sophisticated, handsome guy. Half the girls on campus would hop into bed with you if you asked them. And I'm just little Amy, someone that no one looks at twice when I walk by." Her eyes now glowed from some inner fire. "But I'm not a nothing, Joel. I'm somebody, and I've got pride and self-respect. So if the purpose of this date is to somehow get me to play out what I did in my sex story with you, to say and do those things, well, forget it! It's not going to happen." Professor Kane's Erotic Dreams Joel looked at her but said nothing. This isn't going well, he thought. Not well at all. Finally Amy spoke again, her fiery spirit more obvious than ever. "Say something!" "Amy," he said, "It's true I got turned on by your story. Any guy would. After that I started to dream about you; I couldn't help it. Dreams where you do to me what you did in your erotic fantasy." Amy made no reply, but her glare spoke volumes. "But here's the thing. Most of the women I date, they're like an open book. You look at them, listen to them talk for a while, and soon you know all there is to know about them. You know what they're going to say even before they say it." "So?" "You seemed like an ordinary girl, of no interest to me. But the erotic story made me realize that there's much more to you. You have your real, everyday world; but also this amazing world of a woman's imagination. Of secret thoughts and desires." "And that's what fascinates me about you. I want to know everything about you. Why you write stories like that; if you've written other kinds of stories. Your thoughts, your dreams, Amy, that is what makes you irresistible to me. And yes, I'm sorry. I should have told you that I read your sex scene." Now warming to the task of baring his soul, Joel went on. "Amy, behind my back people have said I'm vain. And it's true. I've dated girls just because they were beautiful; so other guys would see me and think, what a lucky bastard. This is something new for me. It's the first time I've wanted to be with a girl not because of what you see when you look at her, but something you can't see." Amy sighed. "Look, don't you know all girls have sex fantasies, probably as much as guys? I just happen to like to write mine down as stories. You must have your own sex fantasies, don't you?" "Well, sure. There's some I've never told anyone." "Like what, for example?" "You really want to know?" "Of course. You know one of mine, so it's only fair to hear about a guy's fantasy." "Hmm. Let's see, there's one where I lose a bet and have to serve as a maid at a party for the Tulsa Women's League. I'm only allowed to wear heels, a choker, and a little satin apron that doesn't cover anything. Some of the ladies get fresh, and the next thing you know ..." At last Amy smiled. "Oh, I have one kinda like that too. I agree to serve snacks to a bunch of guys at a Super Bowl party, and I have to take something off every time a team scores." "I'd love to hear that one," smiled Joel, even now becoming aroused at the image of Amy in her underclothes or less. "Only if you tell me more about yours," she replied. Both the man and woman now laughed. The crisis had passed. The air seemed warmer, the lights brighter. They began to talk. The hours flew by. After a dessert of cheesecake came espresso; then, a second cup for each. Joel was spellbound by Amy's eyes. Eyes that danced and sparkled in the candlelight; by the sound of her voice as she talked and laughed. Amazing, he thought. At first glance she looks so ordinary. Yet she is the most fascinating woman I've ever been out with. They returned to the entrance to Amy's apartment. Her short hair was backlit by the sconce above her door. It highlighted the steam from their breath on this cold damp night. Taking Joel's hand, Amy said, "I could invite you in, but I have to get up really early. It's my turn to open the doughnut shop where I work." "That's okay. Listen, Amy, I've so enjoyed being with you tonight. It's been the best date of my life." "Oh now," she giggled, "you're just angling for a kiss, aren't you?" "I wouldn't say no." The girl impulsively embraced Joel, leaned up, and joined her lips to his. He was made literally breathless by the taste and scent of Amy; by soft lips and a shy tongue that tentatively touched his and drew back; by the realization that at last he was kissing the girl who filled his dreams. Joel held her, squeezed her, reluctant to let go, savoring every second of the kiss. When they finally drew back from each other, both were breathing hard. How does she do it, he marveled. A mere slip of a girl, as they say, but like nothing I ever imagined could exist. "When can I see you again, Amy?" "When would you like?" "Tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, anytime, I don't care!" Tonight had only brought a brief taste of this fascinating nymph. He was not sated. Rather, his desire for her now burned like a wildfire out of control. Amy gave him a pixyish smile. "I'm off Sunday. How about lunch at your condo? Then maybe we can play some games." "You mean, like Chinese checkers?" smiled Joel. "If you like. But I know some others that might be fun." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned and disappeared into her apartment. ******* That Sunday afternoon, Joel found himself lying naked on his back on his queen bed. He looked up to see Amy in the doorway. Now her hair, in truth a wig, was flaxen in color, with bangs in the front and pigtails. She wore a white collar from which hung a short tie. At first glance she seemed a schoolgirl perhaps, but her uniform was not regulation. Not with the vivid red lipstick she was wearing. Not considering the fact that she was bare-breasted. Joel gazed at Amy's taut supple breasts; at her perfectly round tan areolae; nipples that were mere buttons. Amy's plaid skirt sat low on her hips. Only a foot in length, it somehow just managed to cover what every schoolgirl should keep covered. Her only other adornment was a pair of cotton knee socks. Joel ached to take her in his arms. But he could not do so, for the simple reason that both his wrists were firmly tied to the bed with bright pink ribbons. As were his ankles. His heart beating fast, he lay spread-eagled, awaiting the girl. Carrying a wooden ruler, Amy got onto the bed and knelt beside him. "Professor Kane," she said in a business-like voice, "we women students at Marland have become very concerned about these fantasies of yours." "Yes?" "Now you must be honest with me. Have you ever looked at one of the girls in your class and imagined her doing this to you?" Amy's left hand snaked forward and enclosed Joel's cock, already stiff and erect. The feel of her smooth slim fingers wrapped around his manhood was electrifying. The man gasped in pleasure. "Well, sir, have you?" Amy asked again, gently squeezing his shaft. "Yes, yes," breathed Joel. "It's true. I've often thought of it." "Ooh Professor," said Amy, her voice filled with displeasure, "you are such a bad boy." With that she came down on his thighs with the ruler. A loud smack! echoed in the room as the man jumped in surprise. Her eyes partly closed, Amy bent forward and kissed Joel's cock head, holding her lips to his manhood for long seconds. The sensation of her lips was stunning. Pre-cum began to seep from his cock head. The girl paused to lick it off. She looked up at Joel. "Now, Professor Kane, have you ever wished that a sweet young coed would do that to you?" She then planted another tender kiss on his cock. "Yes I have! I confess!" Joel whimpered. "I'm a bad professor!" "Oh, you are!" said the girl, smacking his thighs again. "Soo, so bad." Both she and Joel were now breathing hard. The sexual tension in the room was palpable. Amy then straddled the man's thighs, and once more took his cock in her hand. "Professor," she purred, "you must remember that all us girls in your class are sweet and innocent. As pure as a flower. Our thoughts are always wholesome. For example, no girl would dream of taking her professor's cock and touching it to her little pussy." Joel moaned in pleasure as Amy moved forward and rose up so that his cock head was enclosed within her pussy lips. Now swallowing hard, Amy spoke again. "And even if she did, sir, she would never let his big cock penetrate her .. glide deep into that .. sweet secret part of her." As she spoke, Amy slowly eased down and further still until Joel's cock was buried to the hilt in her. The man and woman looked at each other in rapt wonder, their faces flushed and covered with a faint layer of perspiration. Both sighed in pleasure as Amy began to ride Joel's cock, at the same time leisurely gyrating her hips. After a few moments she bent forward. When her hard nipples touched his chest, it felt like an electric shock. The heat and fragrance of her young woman's body was intoxicating. She began to plant soft kisses on his chest and then his cheeks, even as she continued to use his cock for her pleasure. "Now Professor," Amy breathed, her eyes only inches from his, "from now on, promise me you won't think about seducing innocent coeds. It's very naughty to imagine us playing lewd sex games with you. Have you learned your lesson, sir?" "No," gasped Joel, his whole body on fire by now. "No?" "No!" Joel repeated, his whole body beginning to tingle. "I can't help it! There is one girl I cannot resist! She is the most exciting, fascinating creature I've ever known. I want to be with her and hold her and love her! Can't a man ask for that!" On hearing his words, Amy's eyes grew large. She embraced Joel, joining her lips to his in a passionate kiss. She held him in an iron grip as she cried out, her hips now swiveling forcefully. With his own hips Joel drove his cock even deeper, moving in perfect rhythm with her own thrusts. Amy soon plunged into an orgasm. Joel followed. The girl's entire body now shuddered violently as she cried out her passion. Joel's own orgasm was like a volcano, an eruption of semen that coursed through him and into her in a seemingly never ending stream. At last, he thought; at last! All the dreams of Amy, the longing for Amy, the pure sweet fascination with her, were embodied in that long intense explosion of pleasure. Time seemed to stand still. Afterwards they both lay gasping for breath. Soon the girl was gently kissing his lips, his cheek, his eyes, then back to his eager lips. She then rose up slightly to look at him. "Tell me, will you say sweet things like that when you're not naked and tied up?" "Yes, of course," Joel replied between ragged breaths. "You can trust your professor." ******* Amy and Joel would always refer to their afternoon of near nonstop lovemaking as That Day. By the time the sun's last rays lit up the bedroom, there was no question about how each felt. No question that two people who seemingly had little in common had discovered that they were in fact meant for each other. They lay, drained and relaxed, under the sheets. With Joel on his back, Amy had draped her right leg over him. He felt the softness of her breasts against his torso; the nap of her damp pussy against his hip. She looked at him and smiled. "Remember Amy and Ryan in my sex story that you read?" "I seem to recall it." "Someday you should read page two, where I describe Ryan." "Oh?" "Uh huh. See, he's about ten years older than Amy. Has dark hair and wears Versace glasses and a sweater vest. Very distinguished looking." Joel chuckled. "Hmm. Modeling a character in a sex fantasy after your own professor. Now who's the naughty one?" "Ooh, I am, aren't I? Do I deserve punishment?" "I'm afraid so." "But how?" Joel glided his hand over Amy's impossibly smooth young buttocks. "Oh, we'll think of something," he replied.