It was a hot Friday afternoon. I knocked and entered.
“Oh, it’s you. Come in.”
“Did you find it, professor?”
“Unfortunately, no.” She had lost a folder with tests and then found it, but
mine was still missing. “I was sure I would have found it by now!…”
*Sounds like an apology…*
“It’s ok…”
“That hasn’t happened to me in years!”
“Well, what now?”
“I’m really sorry for this, but I’ll have to make an oral test then…”
“When? Now?” I panicked.
“Well, since it’s my fault I’ll let you choose.”
“But you have to deliver the notes by Monday, don’t you?”
“Yes, but you can do it any time, from this moment to Sunday afternoon. The later
you choose the more time you’ll have to study, but also you’ll have to give up
part of your weekend…”
“But nothing in college is open then.”
“If you choose to do it in the weekend, you can come to my house. I live nearby,
five minutes’ walk.”
“I see.”
“So, what will it be?”
I pondered my options. I didn’t want to surrender my free time, but I didn’t
remember much about the subject.
“How about Saturday?”
*I’ll still have Sunday…*
“It’s up to you. Morning or afternoon?”
“Afternoon.”
*I can pull an all-nighter and still sleep a few hours…*
“How about 3 pm, then?”
“That’s fine by me.”
“Alright then. Here’s my address,” she said writing on a small piece of paper,
“and my phone number in case something goes wrong. You can still change your
mind and delay it, but warn me a few hours before, please.”
“Alright, Mrs. Anderson.”
“I’m sorry to spoil whatever plans you had…”
*Like sleeping ’till noon…*
“It’s fine.”
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“I’m really sorry for this.”
“It’s ok!” I smiled, and left.
It was a huge inconvenience, but I couldn’t get mad at her for too long.
I could tell she had some sympathy for me, too, since she called me by my first
name. Why? I’m far from being a good student… We just get along.
—
I rang the bell, and waited for her husband to answer.
“Hi, I’m Mrs. Anderson’s…”
“I’m not that old yet!” She laughed.
“Oh! Sorry, I thought…”
“Nevermind. Come in.”
A quick right-to-left glance revealed a small, but well-decorated living room,
whose purple walls were covered by hanging plants from suspended pots. It ended
in a lit entrance on one side and a corridor that vanished into the house, on
the other.
“Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, I was about to make coffee, would you like some?”
*I would never refuse coffee!*
“Sure, if you wouldn’t mind…”
Thus she went into the lit entrance, which I presumed must go to the kitchen,
and left me the chance to apreciate the plants.
“They’re my cats,” she said, laying two gods’ nectar cups on the dining table.
“You’re not the kind of person I would think of as a cat lady, professor.”
“Middle-aged, living alone…”
“Alone?” I repeated. “I thought you were married?”
Her smile faded, long enough for me to recognize my mistake, but not enough to
apologize. She vanished into the corridor and emerged shortly after, holding a
framed photograph, that she laid on the table.
Newlyweds, with a contagious smile.
I looked at her and waited until she spoke. She took the photo away.
“It’s been ten years now,” she said at last. “Car crash.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Anderson…”
“It’s ok… After some time you learn to deal with it… it never stops hurting,
but it hurts less… you know?”
I looked down. I didn’t know, of course.
“Anyway, the coffee’s getting cold…”
I took the invitation; we sat and drank it in silence.
I took the time to look closer at Mrs. Anderson. She seemed to be around 40, but
I knew she had been lecturing for over 20 years now. How old was she, really?
Probably old enough to be my mother. From her face, my eyes inevitably slid
down; she was wearing the same blue shirt she normally wears to class – but,
maybe because it’s was so hot, or maybe because she was at her own house, the
two top buttons were undone. It wouldn’t have been too revealing, if Mrs.
Anderson didn’t have the breast size she had…
“Ready for the exam?”
I looked away, but for a moment my eyes still held the image of those buttons –
better yet, of what they didn’t conceal.
“Yes, professor.”
And thus, she recited question after question, all of which she remembered by
heart; I, on the other hand, had had very little time to memorize, and was now
making a conscious effort not to look at her blessed bosom. Flesh is weak,
though, and I did rest my eyes on them for longer than I should, on one
occasion.
She noticed, and said nothing.
The more I told myself I shouldn’t, because she wouldn’t forgive me a second
time, the more I wanted to glare; so much so that my inner torment turned
whatever I was saying into an incoherent babbling.
“Are you alright, Vincent?”
“Yeah… I’m fine…”
She watched me with intent, convinced I wasn’t.
“You look pale… sit down. Let me get you a glass of water…”
She turned around, with which I could take a look at her bottom: a knee-length
black skirt, translucent nylon stockings, and black high-heel shoes.
All in all, nothing different from her usual outfit, and yet…
“Here,” she said, leaning to give me the glass, showing even more cleavage…
*Don’t stare don’t stare DON’T STARE DON’T*
She snatched the glass from my hand.
“That’s it. I’m tired of pretending I didn’t see it. It’s the fourth time
already!”
*Fourth?!*
I stood up in a jolt.
“I’m so sorry, I’m terribly sorry, I’m really deeply terribly sorry, I -”
I was about to kneel down and become a pathetic prayer mantis, when she gripped
my shoulder and pulled me up.
“Vincent, I don’t know how old you are, but you’re old enough to act like a man.”
“23… I mean -”
“Repeat with me! I…”
*What?*
“I…”
“…was…”
“…was…”
“…staring…”
“…s-staring…”
“…at…”
“…at…”
“…my…”
“…my…”
“…professor’s…”
“…p-professor’s…”
“…breasts.”
I hesitated.
“Say it, dammit! If you did it like a rascal, at least admit it like a man!”
“…breasts!… I’m so sorry Mrs. Anderson, I didn’t mean to direspect you, I
didn’t mean that at all! You’re my favorite professor, Mrs. Anderson, I just…”
I was in the verge of tears, and that seemed to lessen her anger a bit. After
some time, she was consoling me, like a child who broke his toy…
“It’s ok, it’s ok… Calm down… it’s ok…”
And when I did calm down, she gave me a judgemental stare, before turning her
back to me and spitting:
“You said you didn’t mean to disrespect me, but I don’t see how you can
respectfully stare at a woman’s breasts.”
I knew it was no good to apologize again. I expected her to go on, but she
seemed to be waiting a reply.
“Mrs. Anderson,” I said after some thinking, “I know you must think now that I’m
a pervert, that I’m the scum of the Earth… And it saddens me to think it’s my
fault you think that. I do have sympathy for you, Mrs. Anderson, and whether you
believe it or not I’ve never had any impure thoughts of you, up until now…
But you’re right, I have to act like a man, I have to accept the consequences
of what I’ve done. Fail me if you must.”
I headed to the door, and left.
“Vincent!”
“Mrs. Anderson?”
I entered again; only now did she face me again.
“I didn’t think you were the scum of the Earth,” she said. “Do you know why I
was so mad with you, Vincent?”
“It’s only fair…”
“I don’t mind when men stare at my breasts, Vincent, a lot of them do. But it’s
usually someone passing on the street, and I can’t think any lower of them
if I didn’t know them to begin with, can I? But you, I actually know you,
and what you just did made me think you just saw me as some sort of meatbag…”
“That’s not true, Mrs. Anderson!”
“Yes, I know. Besides, you did handle this situation like a man…”
I looked down, and smiled.
“But there are some things you said…”
“Yes?”
“You said I’m your favorite professor. Were you just being… sentimental?”
“Well… there are some professors I like, Mrs. Anderson, but it’s true I like
you best.”
“Why?”
“Why? Well… why do we like some people better than others, Mrs. Anderson?
It’s not their fault… or merit… We just get along with them…”
She started roaming around the room, close to the walls. I expected her to snap
and resume our exam, but she didn’t.
“Are you alright, Mrs. Anderson?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
“Vincent…”
“What?”
“…I’m not sure I should say this…”
“Say what?”
“Well, there’s no helping it now, I guess. You see… ever since he died…”
She paused again.
“It’s ok, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Ever since he died, I never thought of another man again…
…but you just made me realize that was a mistake. My life has been my classes
and these plants… I can’t keep it like that. I need someone. Someone… to
make me feel alive again…
…I’m a miserable middle-aged woman, watching my precious time go by, day by
day… I’ve forgotten myself… I’ve neglected myself…”
I had no idea what to say. I expected her to burst in tears at any moment, but
she didn’t, either. She was actually struggling to conclude her thought:
“…I’ve neglected my needs… as a woman.”
I was so awestruck I had to be sure:
“What… kinds of need, Mrs. Anderson?”
“You know what I’m saying…”
“Mrs. Anderson, I – why are you telling me this?”
“Like I said, I didn’t know if I should. But you’re an adult, aren’t you? How
old are you, again?”
“23…”
“I’m 54. So? We’re both adults, right?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Look, I don’t want you to think that I’m some sort of pervert, either. I
don’t… fantasize about my students. You’re the one who gave me these ideas to
begin with! You come here with your young lust, and – this is *your* fault!”
But shortly after:
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. What I mean is, *if* you wanted to…”
But I couldn’t reply, at all.
“Right, I’m sorry. I just… don’t tell this to anyone, please.”
“P-Professor…”
“Yes?”
No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t yank the words from my throat.
She noticed my struggle, and gave me a malicious grin – but it faded soon.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“If we’re going to do this, I need you to tell me you’re fine with it.”
A primal drive kicked in – the one that makes you throw the spear in a split
second, or else you miss the prey:
“YES!”
She was surprised, but laughed soon; I regained my brain.
“Sorry. Yes, I would love to, Mrs. Anderson…”
“Lily. Call me Lily.”
“Wouldn’t it be Liza?”
Elizabeth was her first name.
“Yes, I’ve been given this nickname long ago, because I love flowers…”
“I see…”
“Wanna come to my room?”
To my nod, she playfully took my hand and guided me through the corridor. At its
end was a lilac room, with a bathroom connected, and a neat-looking queen-size bed.
“Here we are. Make yourself comfortable…”
But, being in a new place and not knowing what would happen next, I couldn’t do
much more than sitting in the border of the bed.
“I’ll ask it for the last time: are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been so sure!”
“Alright. You can still change your mind at any point, of course. I don’t want
you to feel that, just because you’re my student…”
“I see. Thanks for caring, Mrs. – Lily.”
“That’s not caring, that’s common sense! Wait…”
“What is it?”
“I don’t have a condom…”
“Here,” I fecthed one from my wallet. “I always carry one, in case…”
“…you get lucky?”
I smiled.
“Um, Lily…”
“What’s the matter, Vincent?”
“It’s just… I’ve never done anyhting like this before…”
“Me neither!”
“No, I mean… sex…”
“Really?”
She locked eyes with me for a moment.
“Wow. You could’ve had your first time with a beautiful woman your age, but you
chose me instead…”
“You *are* a beautiful woman, Lily…”
“That means a lot, Vincent. Thank you…”
“But that’s not the point, the point is… I don’t know if I’ll be any good.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that… Teaching is my art.”
She gently pulled my chest towards her bed, so I stayed upper-half-lying and
lower-half-sitting, while she remained standing.
She ran her index finger through my pants until she felt the tip, proceeding
to caress it with a slow circular motion. I instinctively lifted my upper body.
“So hasty,” she said, pulling me back. “Close your eyes, enjoy…”
So I did.
“But that position doesn’t seem good… lie down properly…”
I took my shoes off and used my feet to propel me up, then creeped in the bed
until my head met the pillow. I stood there, lying face-up.
Mrs. Anderson took her shoes off as well, but instead climbed up the bed and
walked to where she could kneel and have our faces aligned, after leaning
towards me.
She ran a finger through my lips once, before lowering her head a little. Our
noses touched, and she stood still, waiting for my move.
I raised my neck and turned my head slightly to one side; to the ever-so-slight
touch of our lips, she quickly passed her right hand behind my head and pulled
me to her, sucking as if she wanted to yank my soul.
So we stayed until I was out of air, when I tapped the back of her head; she
understood, and withdrew.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was carried away…”
But I moved my head towards her again, signaling I was ready for more. This time
she was slower, more affectionate: moving her tongue inside my mouth,
periodically changing the pressure of her lips against mine, taking breaks to
look at me and smile. I took the time to savor her fresh mint taste.
She moved her hand over my pants again, teasing the tip as before.
At some point, however, Mrs. Anderson lifted herself away from me, retreating
while still kneeled, so she could see and undo my belt. She then slid her index
and middle fingers of each hand to the each side of my waist, inside my
underwear, and kept crawling back on her knees, to strip my lower body. I raised
my pelvis a little, to help.
Mrs. Anderson was almost kneeling on the edge of the bed when my pants came off
entirely; she threw them, the underwear inside, on the floor.
Without moving, she inclined herself until she was almost lying on her stomach,
supporting her weight on the elbows. Her legs wouldn’t fit in the bed from the
knee down, so she kept them up, playfully moving. Most importantly, both her
face and hands were now close to my penis; Mrs. Anderson kept running a finger
up and down its back nerve, and licking it occasionally.
Now, thanks to her position, I could see her cleavage entirely.
“You do like them, don’t you? I’d forgotten what’s led us to this…”
“I’m sorry…”
“No, I should apologize, for not thinking of this before…”
She sat down before my pelvis, within my arms’ reach.
Her right hand went up one sleeve, and came back holding her bra, which she
tossed randomly.
Mrs. Anderson projected her chest forward, and I rejoiced seeing her nipples’
countour; then, starting from the bottom, she unbuttoned her shirt, one button
every three or four seconds, and a longer pause for the last. With a final hand
movement, the curtains were open: her shirt’s front was now past her shoulders.
“Help yourself,” she proclaimed.
But by the time she finished pronouncing the invitation, my hands were already
seeking them.
“Hey, not so rough! They’re sensitive…”
I obeyed, but continued fondling. The softness of her warm breasts, constrasted
with the piercing sensation of her hard nipples in my palm, produced such
delight in me that I forgot about my own body.
And so did Mrs. Anderson – for a moment, at least; the sudden wave of pleasure
caused her eyes to close, but soon her gaze met my standing stick, starved of
stimuli. She held her right hand in front of her mouth, and what I thought
would be a sneeze was actually a graceful way of painting her hand with saliva,
before gripping my penis, and rythmically stroking it.
With time, however, I found her pace to grow faster and more erratic; her calm,
slow teasing was melting away with her own pleasure, evidenced by an
increasingly ecstatic face, and a crescendo of moans.
Amid this, however, Mrs. Anderson could extract a thought from her mind:
“Vincent… Ah… if you think you’re getting close… tell me and I’ll stop.”
“Stop?” I repeated. The surprise detached my hands from her.
“I don’t want to waste it! You’re finishing inside me! I mean, if you want to…”
A smile was my answer.
“Now, keep going!” She grabbed my hands and placed them where they were. “Please…”
That *please* pleased me more than I could admit. My professor – an authority,
an older woman, with much more knowledge and experience than me – so
vulnerable, begging to me so I wouldn’t remove her source of pleasure, which
lied solely on my hands…
But I, too, had my source of pleasure on her hands. And when I sensed it coming,
loyal to her request, I warned:
“Professor, if you keep going, I’ll -”
She jumped back before I could finish the sentence, or the act.
After a few seconds, which we both needed to cool down, Mrs. Anderson unzipped
the back of her skirt, letting gravity do the rest; then, pulling her panties
down, she gave it the final touch – a scornful kick to the side.
She was now wearing nothing but her stockings and her wide-open shirt.
She reached for the condom that I’d given her earlier. After carefully
removing its wrapper and examining it against the light:
“Do you know how to put it on?”
“Um…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it.”
She did, and, without further delay, sat on me.
I was taken by a chilling rush of endorphin; the feeling, thus far unknown to
me, of having the most sensitive part of my body in the warm, slippery cavity
specifically crafted to recieve it made me clearly understand why there’s so
many of us in this world.
Mrs. Anderson, too, seemed to shiver; she immediately led my hands to her
breasts again, while starting to rock her hips back and forth, up and down,
with a vigor I would never expect from her.
Restless, Mrs. Anderson performed a frenzied dance with ever-growing pace,
guided by sheer instinct while the torpor consumed her, showing itself on her
every aspect – the eyes shut, the mouth open, the ember-tainted lips, the neck
leaning behind, the uncontained loud moans… Meanwhile, I closed my eyes, and
felt every part of my consciousness steadily shutting down, until it transcended
above all thought and perception – then, there was pleasure, nothing but
pleasure, an unspeakable amount of pleasure.
“I’m coming!…”
“Me too!…”
Thus, with a synchronized peak, it ended.
Exhausted, Mrs. Anderson let her body fall over me. She did little more than
push herself to the side, to lie in the bed as well.
Our eyes met, and we couldn’t help but smile.
“I haven’t felt like this in ages…”
“I never even knew I could feel like this!”
“Vincent…”
“Yes, Lily?”
“…so you don’t regret it? Now that it’s over?”
“Not at all! How could I?! Do *you* regret it?”
She let out a different smile – a warm, tender one.
“Not one bit, Vincent…”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/7mjz3n/lily_mf_professorstudent_first_person