I [F] sent my professor [M] a picture of my pussy

As soon as I hit *send* on the email, a shudder ran down my spine. It was the morning before class, and I knew he would be in his office, waiting for our assignments to arrive. We were supposed to write a short story about stupid things and their consequences. I took it a step further, my story itself was the stupid thing, and the consequences I hoped would be outrageous.

Which is why I was up all night, writing and humping my pillow and thinking only of him. My professor was the star of my story. I loved his manly frame, his clean style of dress shirts and slacks. The gray streaks in his hair and beard. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. And how hot I felt when I knew he was watching me.

Whenever I walked into his classroom, his eyes were on my hips. When I sat at in the front row, him pacing back and forth. And how he’d place his hand on my lower back, guiding me into his office. His touch lingering. His fingertips inches from my butt.

Everything about him was warm and strong and promising, and so I’d have little meetings with him. Usually without a bra, wearing a light shirt that made my hard nipples obvious. We’d talk about our favorite books, my career prospects, and just how our days are going. And every single time I sat in his office, chatting with him across the table, fantasies of unraveling filled my head. Moaning into my hand while he fucked me against the door, a hand clamped over my mouth to keep quiet. My panties left in his drawer. Going back to class with his cum all over my face.

That was what I chose to write about. Doing a stupid thing like fucking your smoldering hot writing professor in his office. It was a story about transformation, that was his favorite thing to discuss in every story example he distributed in class. So I wrote about transforming into his little Asian Princess. And I titled it, “The Professor’s Perfect Petite Pet” since he was also a huge fan of alliteration.

I attached a selfie of myself in bed, fingers spreading my soaked pussy, and that was the point of no return. Finding it hard to breathe, I stayed in bed touching myself in a mixture of anxiety and lust, working myself into a frenzy before my page refreshes and his response is in my inbox.

It’s one line. **Come see me before class.**

My heart skipped a beat. What did that mean? What could it mean? Trying not to let my thoughts overwhelm me, I got dressed in a hurry. Lace panties, a black maxi skirt, and a gray sweater. Socks that went up to my knees and brown boots to complete the autumn look. Classy with a hint of sexy topped off with dark red lipstick, eyeliner, and just a hint of blush. Before I knew it, I’m across the campus standing alone in the hallway in front of his office, my pussy wet and my heart pounding and countless possibilities racing through my head.

I knocked on his door, feeling suddenly shy despite the confidence my character exudes when she approaches him in the story.

“Come in,” he says, his voice booming and powerful and setting off a fresh flurry of nervousness.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. He had the lights off and most of the shades pulled down. Sunlight streamed in from one side, making everything a mess of shadows and warmth. It felt romantic.

He was sitting at his desk, and I couldn’t see his face. But I did as instructed when he told me to lock the door. Another shudder as I clicked it into place.

He stood up when I turn around and approach his desk. He seemed like a giant. “Do you really want to be my pet?” he asked. It’s a line straight from my story. My heart skips another beat.

I could sense him studying my look. My good girl outfit. My face dolled up and pretty for him. “With all my heart,” I whispered, my fingers curled up into tight fists at my side.

Was that some sort of test? Would he report me to the board? This was completely against the rules of the University. On top of that, he was married. Fuck. This was a mistake. Why did I let my horniness get the best of me? I should’ve just fucked someone from class or one of the frat boys. I should have just written a story about something normal.

I thought I might burst into tears. He didn’t’ say a word. His face was stern, his jaws clenched. Everything was over. He would report me. I would lose my scholarship and get kicked out. My parents would disown me.

“Give me your panties,” he said finally, cut through my anxiety and stopped my thoughts dead in their tracks.

I looked up at him in awe. Was he seriously? His face gave nothing away. He held out a hand, waiting for my offering.

Swallowing hard, I dropped my bag to the floor. Then I pulled my panties down. The lace cloth peeled off my soaked lips, then down my thighs and calves, over my boots. I placed it on his outstretched hand, and his fingers curled up, no doubt feeling how wet I made the cloth.

The professor brought them to his face, and I heard him inhale deeply. “Delicious,” he said, stepping around his desk. “You are to report here daily before class. Is that understood?”

I straightened my shoulders, relief and lust clashing inside my heart. “Yes,” I said quickly.

He stopped behind me. “Yes, what?” He pulled my hair aside then pressed his nose to my neck.

I felt the wetness of his lips against my hot skin, and I whimpered, “Yes, sir.”

He kissed the side of my face. His hands wrapped around me, pulling me against him. With one hand, he kneaded my breasts over the sweater, squeezing me as I rubbed my ass against the growing bulge in his pants. With his other hand, he stuffed my panties in my mouth.

“If you make a sound, I’ll stop.” He unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down. Then his hands were on my hips, pulling up my sweater to rub my skin before yanking my skirt down. The cloth stretched between my knees, and now there would be no escape. This was almost exactly as I had written in my story. My heart thundered so loud, he must be able to hear it.

I felt his hands, rough against my ass crack, sliding down to my pussy. “Good,” he said. “You’re wet enough.”

Before I could respond, he pushed my face down onto his table, pressing me into a pile of his notes. My ass was in the air trembling, and I felt his hot breath against my skin.

“You have such a lovely aroma,” he whispered. “My sweet Asian princess. My delicate Japanese flower.” Those were straight from my story as well. The thought of him enjoying my writing enough to recreate it in real life drove me wild, and I bit down on my panties trying not to moan.

He straightened up and held my back down with one hand. Then I felt his tip against the wetness of my pussy, and I stopped breathing.

“I’m going to fuck you just as you wanted, okay?” His hand slid down till his thumb pressed against my asshole. He pushed with his cock, sliding it in just a bit. “Are you on birth control?”

“Mmhmm,” was all I could manage. I wasn’t on anything like that. I’d stopped taking it months ago, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. Not now. Not when his cock felt so big and hard inside me, pushing until he grunted and was balls deep in my pussy.

“Fuck,” he said, squeezing his thumb into my ass as he held his cock firmly inside me. His thighs pressed against my ass. In this position, with my legs so close together, my body bent over his desk… it felt as if my entire body was too tight and he’d forced his way inside.

He started thrusting then, not giving me a chance to catch my breath. I don’t dare spit out my panties, afraid of how much noise I might make. But the harder he thrust, the more muffled moans slipped out and before long, I have to open my mouth and breathe. My arms are spread wide, clutching the edges of his desk as he fucks me, and that’s when I can’t hold the moans any longer.

“I’m going to cum,” he said through gritted teeth, his thumb now completely in my asshole.

“Please, sir,” was all I could manage to say. I wanted to be his. I wanted to be his in the worst possible way. I wanted to be roughed up and dripping, till I was biting my lips and my knees were knocking. I wanted to be fastened to him so that the line between where his flesh began and where my soul ended would blur.

And then he was on top of me, his knees buckled as he wrapped his arms around my waist just to keep himself up. Shuddering and gasping, his face pressed into my hair.

When it was over, he straightened up and slapped my ass. “Pull up your skirt.”

I did as I was told. He cupped my face and pressed his thumb into my mouth, giving me a taste of my own asshole. I sucked it in greedily.

He smiled. “Make sure you lube up your ass for me tomorrow.”

I nodded as he patted my head then went back to his seat. His pants were still around his shoes, but instead of picking them up, he sat down.

“Now get over here and clean me up while I finish grading a few things. Then you can help me take my stuff up to class. I expect you to participate as you normally do.”

“Yes, sir.” I dropped to my knees between his thighs caressing his glistening cock. “Was I good, sir?”

My professor looked down at me for a moment, studying my face. He stroked my hair. “You were the best, princess.” Then he pushed my head down till my face was in his crotch, feeling his wet hard cock against my cheeks. The smell of his cum filled my lungs. “You get an A+ for the story.”

I took his cock into my mouth and smiled, feeling his heat lodged deep inside me. I couldn’t wait to sit in class with his cum dribbling down my thighs. And I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, my asshole still tingling from his touch.

*more on my subreddit ♥*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dlsq1w/i_f_sent_my_professor_m_a_picture_of_my_pussy