I’ve been harboring the biggest crush on my professor for a long while now. I’m not going to lie; I want that man to touch me in ways that are almost unfit to print. The following events took place, at least for me, on Monday, Jan. 30.

“Ericka, did you hear me?” he asks.

I shake my head and blink my eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry. What?” I ask, as if in a trance.

“I was wondering how your study plan is going for my final. Not too tough I hope?” he says playfully.

“Oh, yeah, um, it’s pretty good. No, it’s not too tough, I love the subject,” I stammer.

“I’m glad that someone is as passionate about this as I am,” he admits.

After class I wait around for him, my legs scream out at my feet to move or else he will see me there. My feet, however, grow fast to the pavement and refuse to move. Organizing himself, he looks up and sees me; he gathers his papers together and comes curiously towards me. We talk more about the final, I laugh at his terrible jokes and he smiles warmly and keeps them coming. He makes another joke and I laugh, but this time I reach out with my hand and touch his bicep tenderly. His laugh does not stop abruptly, but it lessens quickly and his face takes on an expression of curiosity mixed with intrigue.

“Do you have any other classes today?” the professor asks.

“Not for another three hours,” I reply.

“Well you should come by my office. I have some fliers about our department’s scholarship and I think you should have a look at them,” he suggests.

We walk together and continue laughing until we get to his office. I am talkative and glowing with passion. He gets up, but only to go out in the hall to another office and get the fliers about the department’s scholarship. He comes back and closes the door behind him. The switch on the knob is turned to lock. He hands me the flier and I turn my eyes to it, but I am paying every ounce of attention to the movement of my professor behind me. My heart is racing, he touches my bare shoulder and leaning down, he softly kisses my neck and I turn my head around unsurely and return his tender kisses to his lips. My hand wanders up to his neck and then through his hair.

Our lips are warm together. They are soft and wet as they explore each other. His hands roam over my body and I let out a short, pleasurable sigh. He comes around to my front side and I stand up and relax into his arms. He pulls me close and I push my hips against him, pushing us alongside the desk. I touch his strong chest and it feels better than I could have imagined, I run my fingers down his chest and onto his abs until I come to his dick, which is hard and that makes my heart rate rise.

I unclasp my teacher’s pants and take them off along with his shoes; he is left wearing an untucked, blue shirt with thin white stripes. He slips off my shorts and lifts me onto the desk; we are kissing passionately, breathing hard and my hands are clenched on his shirt as I tremble with pleasure.

“Fuck me Bryan,” I say in a half-sigh.

He grabs me harder and pulls me very close. The smell of his cologne fills my head and I am crazy about him. He takes me forcibly in his arms; then, laying me flat on the desk, he thrusts his dick inside of me and I shiver with bliss. First my professor is slow, but then faster and faster he rubs until I am rushed to orgasm. Turning over, I mount him from the top and take his dick inside of me. Now it is my turn to hold him down and give him pleasure. Apparently filled with bliss, his eyes roll back and his muscles are tensing all over his body. I watch him breathing hard, it turns me on and so I slip my tongue into his mouth and we kiss. His breathing stops for a moment and his body is held in the seizure of excitement, I rock slowly on top of him for a few moments and then lay on his arm while he caresses my hair.

In a reality where this is possible is where I would like to be. I yearn for a reality where my desires are allowed to act on my impulses. Lust can make you crazy. Lust makes me weak and so I long to succumb to it. Either way I’m still in his class three times a week, watching, wondering if maybe he just looked at me.