Tap. Tap. Tap. I twiddled my pen in my fingers, letting it slap my notebook every few spins. Tap. Tap. Psychology class. Interesting enough, but my professor could be kind of a bore. He wasn’t exactly what one would call “conventionally attractive” either. With his ill-fitting pleated khakis, polo shirts, and glasses, he was properly dorky, but in an adorable-dad sort of way. Ugh, spacing out again. I have no idea what he’s even droning on about. Pavlov and dog spit? Ugh, gross. I watch him awkwardly point at his slides as he goes on. His voice is somewhat nasally. I start to glance him up and down. Suddenly he pivots and makes direct eye contact with me as my eyes make their way down towards his cock. I look up to see him staring directly at me. Fuck! He goes quiet for a second, quickly stuttering to the end of the slide before moving on to the next. I don’t think anyone in my class noticed, but he certainly did. I quickly looked away and pretended nothing had happened. Why was I even staring?! I’ve certainly always wanted to fuck one of my professors, but this one? No way, he seems so innocent.