their books over their dicks. It didn't take a Ph. D to understand what Professor Janney had just done to the guys in her course.
Maybe we should rename her Mistress Dominique. She was one hell of a dom, and with those heels, 4” red stilettos that went well with her uptight, overly conservative suit. If she was trying to send a message, it was working.
Come fuck me. My way.
I stood and gathered my laptop and readings, throwing them in my backpack. That uncomfortable blue clit feeling didn't help; I'd need to do rub one off in a quiet stall in the bathroom. Then again, so would a few other women, and all the guys, given the strange looks of detachment and confusion I saw mirrored in my classmate's eyes. Arousal was common for us; being in the 18–22 age range meant we were horny nonstop, but also able to do something about it.
Just not between classes.
Even Chuck's pole would feel good right now, as long as I could ignore the ass attached to it.
“Alicia?” Professor Janney's perfume hit my senses. Smelled like cinnamon, cardamom, and musk. I wanted to lick her arm, which she perched on the desk next to me. If I licked her arm, would I get extra credit? Tasting any part of her right now would release me. I'd climax on the spot. Throw me out of school. I didn't care. Just let me have one lick of her elixir.
Instead, I mustered all my will to just answer her. My red, swollen clit didn't help. “Um, yes?”
“Nice work deconstructing the meaning of the pessary in the Victorian age. You have the makings for grad school, you now?” Her warm smile and encouraging words gave her a safer, more motherly look. Considering she was, at most, three or four years older than me, “mother” was a stretch. But the ache in me dialed down a notch, and the urge to grab her face and shove my tongue down her throat, slide my hands through those long, back waves of silk, and finger fucker her right there on the ancient, carved schoolkid desk receded just enough.
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” I mumbled.
She reached out and fingered a piece of my long hair. “You have the most beautiful auburn hair. It's not just the color of copper — it's like copper and burgundy blended together.” She dropped the strand. “I'm jealous. I always wished I had any color hair than boring old black when I was growing up.”
A huge wave shifted and pushed up from my soaked pussy, through my lower abs, over my stomach and into my diaphragm, removing all ability to speak. I inhaled through my nose, pretending to sniff, distracting myself and suppressing the huge climax that wanted to erupt right there. “I was born with it, so it's all I know,” I laughed, throwing my backpack over my shoulder and avoiding her eyes.
She smiled again and returned to her desk, shuffling papers and files. “Have a great weekend,” she said absentmindedly.
“Yeah. You too.”
And in that moment, I knew two things: I would go into the bathroom and have a ripping orgasm in three seconds flat, and that I would fuck her. Soon.
I was right about both.
I worked in the English department office as a student worker. For $9 an hour I got to file, clean, make flyers for department events, and be condescended to. Some of those professors were the biggest blowhards ever. They were so consumed by the fact that they had Ph. D. — and God forbid I forget to call them “doctor” — that they thought they hung the moon. Forget the fact that any books they wrote were only read by the poor students who were forced to buy them for their classes. Some of them were so preening and full of themselves that they made me print all their emails for them — by sending me an email and saying “print this and put it in my mailbox.” WTF? They had printers in their offices! How lazy do you have to be?
Whatever. I made my $9 an hour for 20 hours a week, and it was enough to keep me paying for the dorm, food, and car insurance. The worst professors were the men, though. Not only did they drool over any female student, they treated me like some sort of 1950s version of a secretary. Get them coffee? Get your own damn coffee! Ask me into your office to retrieve a file folder from the bottom cabinet so you can watch my ass? Fuck off.
And the worst was Doctor Joe Faustino. Slimy asshole. He was a “men's fiction” expert, which is nothing more than a “my dick is too big to tolerate feminism” choice. He was gorgeous — I'll give him that. Way more than 6' tall, with sandy hair and a phenomenal set of legs on a man. Too bad his personality was domineering and condescending.
And he had the hots for Professor Janney.
Who, I decided, would be mine. All mine.
So one Friday morning I'm working in the English department and in walks Professor Janney. And Faustino. And they've got that horny sex look. He's putting one hand on the small of her back and she's fucking him with her eyes.
Joe dug into his pockets for his office key. “HI, Joe!” Joyce, the department secretary, called out.
“Oh, hi Joyce,” he replied, smiling like a doofus.
Professor Janney checked her mailbox, and then Joe said something about calling students. Then they practically sprinted into the faculty office area like two starving people looking for water in the desert.
And finding it in her vagina.
They closed the door but didn't lock it. I found a few file folders and pretended to be reading and organizing paperwork. Joyce, the department secretary, was a fairly laid-back boss, but I didn't want it to be obvious that I was snooping. First I heard a weird thump, then some smacking sounds, and finally a long sigh and a muffled groan.
Holy shit. Were two professors really going at it in the faculty office room? The college was renovating the big, old Victorian building where the English department has its regular offices, so most of the younger faculty were crammed into this one office, like a cubicle farm. Hah. They'd bitched and moaned about it, claiming privacy and intellectual stimulation lost.
Sounded like these two professors found some stimulation, alright.
So Professor Janney was in there, writhing on the floor with that overpowering jerk, and I was out here, my panties starting to soak, wondering about her body. Was his face between her legs? What did her black hair look like around her pussy? Did she taste like spices? And why, of all people, was she fucking him? Squirming didn't help quell the burning desire building in me as a deep ache formed in my pussy. I needed action.
But him?
Ah, fuck it. I could put up with him if it meant touching her perfect breasts, stroking those folds, tasting her juices, having her ride my face, getting tongue fucked by one of the most brilliant Victorian sexuality writers in the country.
Besides, for $9 an hour, the department got their money's worth out of me. Time I got my money's worth out of this overpriced college. I grabbed a file and stepped up to the door. Now I could really hear them going at it. I was on the edge of a cliff, able to step back and not do this. I could pretend they weren't there and just go about my life.
A devil on my shoulder urged me on. An angel on my shoulder stayed strangely quiet.
I grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly, opening it just enough to enter, and played dumb.
“So, Joe, I need you to sign some — Oh, my God!” I dropped the files I held in my arms, and stared at them. Light shone through the open door, leaving Amy and Joe completely vulnerable and within view of anyone who walked by. Seeing Amy (why bother thinking of her as “Professor Janney” anymore? Once you've seen your professor naked, first names are a must) being that exposed made me tighten with fear and excitement. I was really doing this.
“Close the door!” Joe commanded, using a voice I'd never heard before. He'd always been so very into political correctness and supporting women as equals, even as he asked me to go and fetch his coffee and get his dry cleaning. Prick.. This voice was powerful and authoritative, a bit threatening and angry, and I watched Amy's face as she flushed and wiggled. It turned her on.
Anything that turned her on turned me on, too.
I kicked the door shut, locked it, and quivered. Fake quivered, really. Because now that I found them both on the floor, naked, with Joe's huge cock still in her, I knew I had nothing to fear. They wouldn't reject me. Amy looked
