You were a total tease. Those thigh highs and shorts skirts, revealing soft plush thighs Professor Grimes was more than eager to touch.
Long locks cascade down your back, almost reaching your bum. Tits practically spilling out of the tiny tops you strategically picked out. Plump lips begging to be kissed— to be bruised and swollen around his cock.
Every day in class, he’d put you on the spot, so he could watch you squirm in embarrassment, something that made his slacks tighten. And didn’t you know it? You knew the effect you had on him, you knew exactly what he did the second class was dismissed— the curtains pulled shut, you also never failed to miss the tent in his pants.
It wasn’t like you were any better, hand in your panties the second you got to the bathroom stall.
You needed him so bad. Your fingers were nothing compared to his, you thought. Whenever he’d hand out papers, his hand would linger on your desk a few seconds longer than everyone else’s. Your fingers would be nothing compared to his cock, you knew that. The unmistakable hard-on he constantly had around you didn’t fall on blind eyes— yours were wide open, practically drooling at the sight of your professor.
The next day in class, you’d been tasked with essay upon essay. You’d barely gotten a sentence down on the page before he’d dismissed the class, far too busy daydreaming about him and his fingers and his mouth and his dick.
Everyone had risen from their desks, leaving papers on his table on their way out. You were the last to stand up, hesitantly walking forward with your empty page.
You dropped it on his desk, turning away in a second and heading for the door, interrupted by the call of your name. Spinning around to face him, he was now stood up. You took cautious steps towards your professors desk, fidgeting around on your feet as you awaited your scolding.
“This is it? Two words?” Professor Grimes turned the paper over, inspecting it.
“I’m sorry— I just uh— I didn’t—” You were at a loss for words. What could you say? Sorry Professor I was too busy thinking about you fucking me? No, you couldn’t say that.
“Sit back down. You can start again, maybe then I won’t fail you.”
You huffed but ultimately complied, snatching back your paper and sitting at the desk.
Almost fifteen minutes had passed, and now you had two sentences, the only thought running through your mind being about your professor, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy your teacher.
“Sir, I really cant do this. I know nothing of the topic.”
He stood from his desk, walking over to stand by yours and tower over you. “Alright, I guess we’ll just have to think of something else you can do to earn your grade.”
“Please, I’ll do anything.”
He smirked, going over to the door and pulling the small curtain that covered the window shut.
Professor Grimes was back at your side in a second, pulling you up onto your feet and smashing your lips onto his.
You had no complaints, more than happy you were finally getting something more. Your hands eagerly roamed his body, just as his did yours, cupping the backs of your thighs and moving you to sit on the desk, his hard-on pressing right up against your covered cunt.
You moan into his mouth, eagerly unbuttoning his slacks just as he reaches underneath your small skirt to pull your panties to the side.
The man let out a breathless groan before pulling away from your lips and staring down at you. “Are you sure?”
“Yes— Yes, please.”
He chuckled, “Alright, greedy girl.” In a second his tip was poking at your entrance, precum from his cock smearing over your soaked cunt.
When he finally entered you, you let out a harsh moan, fingernails digging into his shoulder whilst your head rolled back.
“Fuck!”
Your professor continued to pump in and out of you, only driving you further and further to your release. “Mmgh, Sir!” You whine, orgasm impending already.
“Thaaats it. Good girl.” He praised, hip’s stuttering as he came inside of you, “Shit.”
Your own orgasm came quickly after his, juices mixing together and moans filling the air. Your own hips shake as you struggle to maintain closure.
He gently pulls out, pulling his slacks back up and smirking down at your still trembling form. “I guess you’ve earned yourself an A.”
I cant be the only person who imagines professor Grimes as a wizard-looking old man with a looooooooong beard and long white hair and teeny tiny little circle glasses , but like everyone else has normal clothes its just him that looks like that.
