When I was in college, I had a huge crush on my favorite professor. I met him in my junior year when I took photography 101. His name was Nick and he was a very tall man in his late 40s or early 50s. He had dark shaggy brown hair that went past his ears, soft light eyes a shade between blue and green that crinkled at the corners when he smiled his charming half grin.
He was everything I had ever wanted: smart, funny, talented, and incredibly handsome. I fell so hopelessly in love with him that I gave my all in his classes. Luckily for me I ended up taking multiple classes with him as the professor and our relationship grew. Unfortunately it was often hard for me to concentrate in class because every joke he made or smile he sent my way caused my heart to flutter in my chest, and my pussy to throb in my pants.
For one of my final exams I had make a portfolio of packshots so I went to the photolab during my professor’s office hours to get one on one help with the lighting for my photoshoot.
The photo lab was a small windowless classroom with an auto lock door to keep the expensive lighting equipment safe.