It was a continuous pattern with me, I had a hunger to be educated after such a long holiday.
Although, by second semester that hunger exchanged, and I longed for a holiday.
My mind is like that, I ebb and flow between all and nothing.
For instance, I used to read often, but now the motivation isn’t there as much after reading research papers so often.
Now when I do read for leisure, it’s something from under my bed after my roommate goes out for a date or some party.
Though I don’t think it would constitutes reading to most people.
Usually, every semester my mind picks a professor that I’m going to crush over. Last semester’s wasn’t that good, but he had his moments with poor dad jokes in the middle of class.
My online perusing and stalking led me to deduce he was a family man, and he had a nice jawline, well at least if you didn’t look too close.
But his ‘almost’ strong jaw muscles certainly came in handy in my imagination. If I’m being honest, his personality was pulling most of the weight though.
Cheryl, my roommate, seemed to major in dating, as I never once saw her study and she was sparingly in the room.
I’m genuinely not sure what she really studies. I must admit, I’m jealous. She radiates confidence, and is very sought after.
I mean even I drool a bit talking to her, though she wouldn’t notice.
I think I’m more subtle in my approach, which I suppose doesn’t catch the attention of a lot of horny 20-something year old guys. I’m okay without them noticing though, I just wouldn’t mind the occasional discrete dicking.
I major in psychology, though that doesn’t help me understand said dicks beyond what they want me to act like in bed, not that I had much experience with that.
I gave my ex a few blowjobs here and there, and we had sex, but he struggled keeping it up.
Nothing against the guy, he was lovely, but he stopped wanting sex, he was too nervous.
Plus he didn’t go down, I was only sixteen, and was way too shy to ask.
We’re still friends, but I don’t think about him like that anymore.
Well, I guess maybe if I was desperate enough I’d let him try again, but he never got me to where I wanted to go, so I don’t really see the point.
My first day of second semester, I arrived to my elective creative writing class. Which, if I’m being honest, was picked just because I heard it was a class with no exams, and everyone typically passed.
However, the professor was also cute, which I swear I did not know when picking the class.
Although, I will absolutely shout, “my captain, my captain!” If he wants to recreate that scene, or any other movies he’d like to recreate, like any.
He had a style that I would expect of a literature professor.
A grey sweater complimenting his tan pants, which were ornamented with a brown leather belt that held those pants tight enough to leave little to my imagination to fill.
I was sitting six rows back, but I could tell he had a nice face.
He had dark brown hair, and a rugged beard that looked welcoming when he smiled.
Oh, And his glasses were very stylish too.
I guess he oozed hotness, and I couldn’t be the only woman thinking this right now.
I’m not a pervert in public by any means, I rarely sexualise people, but this man was being sexualised right now by many women.
Then he suggested that we read whatever book we would like to read this semester, and to write a report on whether the book portrays the male-gaze or the female-gaze, or both, I swear he was just saying, “I’m God’s gift to women.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/11hm471/the_professors_tease_slow_burn_fm_ff_age_20s_40s
P1
Professor Portnay’s following lecture was on the female gaze, as he spoke to the issue of how even female writers fall into the trap of perpetuating the male perspective in pop-culture, and how the best works of fiction explore both gazes as a thematic device.
I thought this was ironic, coming from a man hired to teach literature.
They still own the world, I suppose.
Yeah, he’s hot, and oozes his brand of feminism all over the floor, but he expects his female students to do their womanly duty and mop up his oozed manly ‘feminism’ from the floor when his done showing off.
As my mind ebbs from his attractiveness and then flows to calling out his bullshit, I’m reminded that I don’t really care about this class, it’s just meant to be a bit of fun.
As such, I had decided at the third class that I would sit at the front of the class so that he could see my expression of his bullshit.
I was having a confident day, so I dressed a little better this time around.
Maybe I subconsciously wanted to test whether he truly relinquished his male gaze, and therefore test whether he has a right to speak on this.
Look, I thought I looked pretty fucking hot, and his eyes did cross mine a few times, though it was nothing to throw the gavel down over.
He was perfect, from this distance.
And if anything, I was the one gazing over his body.
And damn, I was so thankful for that tight belt.
By the fourth class, I had actually begun to listen to him.
I had been reading more seriously again, and he also illustrated some really valid points about what’s lacking in the literary world.
That’s not to say my mind wouldn’t wander to the fantasy of him pulling me aside after class, but I’d pull myself back.
However, this time I wanted to test him, and play mean.
So, in my subtlest manner, when I saw him looking in my direction, sitting at the front row, I would uncross my legs for him. Baring a red lacy thong I bought with my confidence yesterday, well that and twenty-five dollars.
Yes, I treated myself a little bit, but I had no one to show it off to, not that I needed a man for that.
Albeit, my skirt was loose enough to show him and no one else, I have some pride!
I was subtle. He was subtle.
Though he saw it, and I saw him look again, but less subtle the second time. Then he turned to write down some characteristics of the male gaze and the female gaze on the board.
When he turned back, I noticed the slightest outline running down his leg.
Well I’m pretty sure that wasn’t there before, was it?
I felt butterflies in my stomach, I felt like that was for me, unless he’s into chalk.
I think he liked what he saw.
At the same time, I felt like he was full of shit, and it was unprofessional of him to look, like is that what I’m paying for T this institution?
Though the butterflies didn’t listen to my logic, I still retain the right to be a little disgusted in him, and men.
Sitting in the front row for the fifth class, I realised his eyes on me a lot more, as though he was hoping I’d perform my trick for him again.
My mind rattled, ‘typical misogynist expecting women to help him with his future wanking material.’
As though he’d go home and fuck his wife whilst thinking about my twenty year old body draped in lingerie bought just for his eyes.
Just to get his dick ready for the tightest woman he’s had in years.
As though women are bred for his pleasure.
Then he’d realise he was looking in my direction and divert to the opposing direction for the same awkward length of time to avoid suspicion. Unless there was a woman with better panties over there, or maybe some chalk.
After his eyes looked at mine for the fifth time, I decided I’d give him what he wants.
With my crossed legs I simply and slowly brushed my top thigh down my bottom leg, and spread my legs subtly for a few seconds to feed the masquerading animal.
The pervert soaked it up, I think he forgot he was teaching a class for a second.
He didn’t even turn away to hide how much he liked what he saw.
Maybe he forgot.
We all forget things when we’re embarrassed, sort of like how I forgot to wear underwear underneath my skirt this morning.
I don’t think anyone knew why he stopped his lecture, but I know teaching this class is the highlight of his academic day.
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I shall now turn into what is in general known as a very annoying person and point out that the correct quote would be “O Captain, my Captain” instead of “My Captain, my Captain” as is written in the original post