Her Dirty Professor(3)

By: Penny Wylder



“Thanks.”

He folds his arms across his chest again, making his shirt tight. That’s when I notice the muscles giving his sleek arms definition. I don’t have to see him naked to know there’s a gorgeous body hiding under those clothes. Suddenly I’m breathing harder and feeling flushed. This calls for some wine and a cold shower, though I doubt that would be enough to douse the warmth spreading through the lower half of my body.

Time to go. Now. Before the wet spot growing between my legs starts to show.

As I’m walking out he says, “Don’t forget the assignment due tomorrow.”

It’s a good thing he mentioned it because now all I can think about is Mr. Johnson and his, well, Johnson.



As soon as I get back to my dorm room, I get to my computer and look up the Rocket Cocks website. My roommate spends most of her time with her boyfriend who lives off campus, so I don’t have to worry about her showing up.

It doesn’t take long for me to find the video clip I’d watched in class. The male actor—performer? I’m not exactly sure what to call him—looks a lot like a younger version of Mr. Johnson. Same broad shoulders, intense blue eyes, slightly crooked nose, and great ass—even in slacks, he can’t hide it.

The clip is only two minutes long. I watch it over and over, memorizing it. It’s not nearly enough material for me to come to a conclusion on whether or not this is my teacher. I want to see more, so I purchase the entire video. My bills still go to my parent’s house. I just hope they don’t decide to go through my credit card statements.

The female actor in the video has large fake boobs, wears too much makeup, and has platform heels so tall she wobbles when she stands. She’s able to take his big cock without even flinching. She looks almost . . . bored? Her eyes are lazy, and she keeps glancing off to the side as if being instructed on what to do. Her mechanical movements and the unnatural, almost robotic, way she moves into the different positions make me think there’s a director off to the side choreographing their coupling like it’s some kind of staged interpretative dance.

Without even taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being full, she starts to ride him, bouncing with the hollow look of someone lost. Nothing about her expression tells me she’s enjoying this one bit. The moans and dirty-talk are over the top, and so obviously fake I’m embarrassed for them both. Though she has a great body, it’s doing nothing for me. The male doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it much himself, just going through the motions. The only saving grace is that he looks so much like my teacher that I can’t help but get turned on. Watching that giant dick sliding in and out of pink flesh causes an ache between my legs I can’t ignore.

I slip my fingers into my pajama bottoms, beneath my panties, and start to rub circles around my clit, imagining I’m the girl in the video and Mr. Johnson is plowing into me. When the look-alike actor gazes directly at the camera, it’s as if he’s looking right at me, teasing me. I rub faster, desk and computer shaking, until I’m covered in goosebumps and being pushed over the edge. With my other hand, I plunge my fingers inside, and that’s enough for the building pressure to burst, and my entire body floods with pleasure.

Takes a minute for me to come down, for my breathing and vision to return to normal. When I pull my fingers out of my panties, they’re sopping wet. On my desk is the assignment due tomorrow in Mr. Johnson’s class. I stare at it a moment, contemplating. Then I look at my sticky hand. Should I? It only takes a second for me to decide that, yes, I should. I grab it, wipe my juices on it to give him something to think about while he’s grading. I want my pheromones to call to him, let his animal instincts take over. Force him to notice me. Drive him wild without him knowing why.



In class the next day we’re doing labs, so it’s perfectly fine for people to talk. Normally I work alone, the clink and clatter of background noise the soundtrack of my workday. You’d think all that sound would be distracting, but I actually find that it gets me in the mood to work. I have my routines and the noise is just part of it. Except today Serena and her boyfriend are waiting at my table for me. This is definitely not part of the routine.

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