A+ In Deepthroating
By Layla Biel
Copyright 2012 Layla Biel
Smashwords Edition
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Karen had a system.
Today was Technical Writing, so she already knew what she would wear. It was calculated, as it had been for the last several weeks. The skirt was the perfect length for what she had planned; short enough that she could reach up and finger herself without attracting too much attention. A bra that pushed her cleavage into unmissable territory without ever quite making it into slutty. Of course, no underwear. That would be counterintuitive.
As she began the walk to class, Karen took note of the campus truly coming to life again. Spring was coming around already, and an early warm spell meant that the grassy areas between buildings were positively teeming with horny undergrads, finally free of bulky coats and boots and sweatshirts, confidently putting all their goods on display. Lithe figures in the prime of their physicality, guys shirtless, girls in tiny bikinis, throwing balls and Frisbees, sunbathing, or making a show of studying, their wordless pronouncement to all around: Let’s fuck. The campus transformed into a veritable cauldron of young lust.
Karen had no need for any of it.
She had little interest in the jocks and frat boys or even the nerdy, smart ones who roamed the halls and the dorms. For as long as she had had any interest in men, Karen had always been attracted to those older than her. In middle school she hung out with high schoolers; in high school, guys from the local college; and by the time she had graduated, she’d screwed three teachers everyone know about – and another four they didn’t.
Now in her sophomore year of college, and without a drunken co-ed hookup to her name, Karen had made the rounds a bit with the faculty, but much of it had been rote and uninspired. Then she got stuck in Technical Writing.
A prerequisite forced upon her by her engineering major, Karen dreaded what she imagined would be the driest, most uninteresting class she would ever have the misfortune of being forced to attend, from the moment she saw her upcoming schedule until 30 seconds into the first session, when she saw Dr. Bohn.
Tall but not freakishly so, he had a full head of brown hair just beginning to grey near the temples, his green eyes framed by simple, black rimmed glasses, he was an altogether more striking one than the other teachers she’d had so far at university. He projected an air of confident authority before he had even opened his mouth, and when his did, his powerful voice brought Karen instant resolve.
She had to have him. She would fuck Dr. Bohn, and nothing would stand in her way.
Karen walked through the door of room 205 only a few minutes early. At first, she had had to arrive long before the other students to ensure she got the spot in the classroom she had scouted out for herself in the back row. The way the seats were positioned, this was one of the few spots the other students couldn’t see very well without explicitly turning towards the back, but it still offered a an excellent view of Professor Bohn, with none of the skuzzy, hungover douchebags blocking her line of sight. This spot provided the best opportunity to masturbate in class while looking at, hearing, and thinking of Dr. Bohn.
The first time she did it, she hadn’t planned it or even realized what was happening. The heat was blasting into the room in an attempt to fight off the January chill, and Karen hadn’t slept too well the night before. Even the normally enthralling sight of Dr. Bohn couldn’t combat the dull subject matter and the warmth of the room, and soon enough Karen was drifting on the edges of consciousness. Though the haze of dozing came his voice, speaking no longer of paragraph formatting and proper indexing, but about how he had been thinking of her recently. She felt Dr. Bohn’s hand on her thigh, noticed it move slowly and confidently along her flesh, tantalizingly higher. Felt his hot breath on her neck, heard him whisper he would take her right here and right now. Felt his two fingers brush against her already moist slit, and then heard the first moan escape her own lips…
…and was instantly tossed back into reality. She was in a classroom, with dozens of other people, in the middle of the afternoon, when she had made that sound; an unmistakable sound. With dawning horror she realized her left hand was up her skirt, middle finger second knuckle deep in her own dripping pussy. Miraculously, no one seemed to be looking at her. Had she only daydreamt the moan of ecstasy as well? Was it only in her fantasy? Karen swore she had heard it for real, from her very own lips. Perhaps everyone else was also mostly asleep and she had dodged a bullet. As nonchalantly as she could, she extracted her fingers and had less trouble paying attention for the rest of the lecture.
That had been almost 6 weeks ago. Since then, she came properly prepared. She was no longer surprised by daydream fantasies wherein Dr. Bohn had his way with with her, and she even planned them. Expected them. She nearly lived for them.
These days here spot was always waiting for her, no matter when she arrived. Other students never bothered trying to sit there; she had become a fixture in the upper corner of the stadium like seating. Usually, no one was even in her row. She made her way to her spot and readied herself for another hour of an unlistenable lecture and life affirming fantasy.
Professor Bohn entered the room with a smile and set down his briefcase at the lectern. He made a visual sweep of the room, greeted everyone, and began recapping what had been covered the week before. Karen instantly lost interest in the actual words being spoken and let his voice wash over her. He had recently begun to keep a close cropped beard. She thought it made him look more distinguished without being ancient. His handsome features made it difficult to tell exactly how old he was – anywhere from late 30s to early 50s was entirely possible, but whatever the actual count of years, he wore them well.
Karen suddenly became aware of books and bags and feet shuffling. Coming back to her senses, Karen noticed the rest of the class was getting up to leave. Professor Bohn himself was putting things back into his briefcase. Had she zoned out through the entire class already? Impossible. She must have missed an announcement he had made about ending class early. Disappointed with the loss of her Monday wank session, Karen scrambled to put away her things and get down the stairs before it became apparent she had not heard anything that had been said. As she neared the door, she heard him speak.
“Miss Blue?” Karen stopped dead.
“Karen?” It was his voice.
“Hello?” Karen slowly turned towards the source.
It was him. Talking directly to her. Smiling at her. Chest thundering, brain suddenly made of mush, she tried to say something. Anything.
“Uh… yes, Professor?”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Could you stay here for a few minutes? I wanted to have a word with you”.
Other students continued to file out of the room. A thousand scenarios raced through Karen’s mind. She tried to quash them. He was waiting for a response.
“Umm, yes. Sure. Of course. I can. Yes.” She realized she should probably smile also. She did.
As the rest of the class poured out of the room, Karen’s thoughts swirled. He had finally noticed. She always came to class looking her best, with skirts showing the majority of her toned legs. Bras and shirts that made her already impressive breasts look downright spectacular. Strategically dropped pencils that let her show off those gifts she maintained and prepared, and always in a very particular direction. He couldn’t resist her any longer. He was going to push her up against the blackboard and take her right this instant. Professor Bohn moved towards the door, and slowly pushed it closed.
“Miss Blue. Thanks for staying. I’ve wanted to see you one on one for a while now.”
He looked at her – deeply, seriously. His eyes penetrated her soul. She found herself wishing for an altogether different type of penetration, which she was sure would come any minute now.
“Miss Blue, I can’t help but notice that mentally, you have not been here for weeks. You show up, you sit in the far back, and then you check out for the entire duration. You are a young woman, not a child, and I won’t babysit you. If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be. I don’t mandate attendance. You’re obviously not here to learn, since you don’t hear a word I say, and you’re not doing very well on your assignments.”