Michaela and her professor

[fa****]

For Michaela Birch, going to her Art History 301 class was a teasing delight.

Bellamy University had been thrilling from her first day as a freshman. Meeting every kind of person from all across the country, funneled into Bellamy's verdant campus by hunger for learning, thirst to achieve, all young, looking for fun and exciting paths to the future. Even as most of her senior year spread out before her, she knew she would miss every moment.

Through it all, while Michaela prided herself on sinking her teeth deep into what the world laid before her, she had never encountered someone like Nathaniel Wolf.

Professor Nathaniel Wolf, author of "Eros in Our Eyes: An examination of Human Sexual Attraction Through History." Professor Wolf, the hottest man on campus. Professor Wolf, Michaela's very own ***or.

It happened every time she walked into his class to watch him strut around before his students. She sat spellbound at his every story and fact. And every time, she could not help but imagine him lifting her up on the teacher's table and dropping to his knees between her thighs.

It was impossible to ignore even as Michaela knew it was absurd. Seven out of ten students in his class were women. Half the remaining men were gay. It was as if the class, an examination of sexual imagery through art, was engineered for Professor Wolf to skim the cream of the campus into his bed.

But he was famous for deftly batting away come-ons by students, professors, men and women alike. As wanted, heralded and appreciated as he was on campus, there were whispers about the Professor. By the upperclassmen who had watched him through their years at Bellamy University, he was seen as something like George Clooney by way of a monk.

He was a sexless man made for sex.

He was supposedly married, but no one ever saw his wife.

There was some buzz he was gay, but no boyfriend ever appeared.

Under all the gossip and rumors, the tantalizing talk with its scintillating possibilities, there was one rumor that coiled around Michaela's thoughts like no other.

While she didn't believe it, she so desperately wanted it to be true: Professor Wolf was rough beyond normal. Spanking, slapping, nipping, pulling hair, biting hard enough to leave marks, all with a presence so commanding in the bedroom he had found the need to withdraw from the sexual arena of the city lest the rumors of his predilections seep out onto campus. Careers had been broken for much less in the last few years and scarlet letters had been burned onto professors from coast to coast on social media.

Michaela had heard this rumor from an upperclassman, Holly Rothman. She had no way of knowing if it were true, but through her friendship with Holly, Michaela had no reason to doubt her.

They met through common friends in Michaela's second year and became close. It didn't hurt they shared Arts as a major. With Holly a few years ahead, Michaela found herself looking up and admiring her new friend. What that would lead to she could scarcely have imagined.

Most Friday and Saturday nights found them hopping from bar to bar in the streets along the campus' northern edge, skipping over to frat parties or private homes when interesting adventures presented themselves. Generally having the heedless fun college years were so perfect for.

But as open as they were, Holly clammed up when Professor Wolf came up.

"Oh, come on! You can't tell me you haven't thought about it," Michaela said, teasing Holly when she realized her friend grew red and quiet when the subject of their favorite professor came up.

"Yeah, I've thought about it," Holly said, trying to cast a cheerful disinterest and failing. As her eyes flicked to Michaela, she knew she was caught.

"You bitch," Michaela said through a gale of laughter. "You know something. Tell me."

She regretted her demand almost immediately. The look in Holly's face was a mixture of panic, worry, and a smoldering pride. An interesting mix.

"Michaela, I..." Holly began. "I can't say anything. Just know that most of the girls on campus don't know a fucking thing about Nathan and wouldn't know what to do with him if they got him."

"Oh, Nathan is it? Just how well do you know him?"

"Uh, not very. I..." Holly's eyes widened, the search for defusing words written in her expression.

"Fuck you if you think you can say something like that and not explain it," Michaela said through bright laughter.

Holly quieted, composed herself, then looked right at Michaela, who fell silent. Here it comes, Michaela thought.

"We're friends, but this is big," Holly said. "I trust you, but this could get people fired, so I can't say everything. I'm not going to say what I know, or how I know it, but most of what you hear about Professor Wolf is BS. He's not married, he's not gay. God knows he's not celibate. He dates. But he keeps his real self pretty far from the social life around here... he's pretty intense when he gets going."

"Oh my God. Like... how?" Michaela could feel the heat rising through her body, between her breasts, through the flesh of her throat.

"He's very... rough," Holly said, some memory behind her eyes drawing the whisper of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "A lot of girls think they want him, but I'm not sure they'd love it."

"Did you?" Michaela asked.

"Yes," Holly said before she could catch herself. Once she realized, her pale throat and cheeks went crimson. "Oh, yeah."

With her little victory, Michaela smiled, but didn't push. Seeing her friend so *** and wrought up about Professor Wolf brought out the *** in her, and she dropped it.

But a seed was planted deep.

After Holly graduated Michaela went through her own college flings through her Junior and Senior years. As graduation approached, aside from some fun with three of the starters on the Bellamy football team, Michaela had fund the men on campus uninspired. At least the guys her age.

Through all her semesters she watched Professor Wolf from afar and occasionally from close up in the classes she needed from him for her major.

Then she found herself in the last few months of her college life experience. Closing in on her degree in Art History, she found herself in his class three times a week. That's when Michaela's interest in Professor Wolf went from idle daydreams to a full, delicious fever.

She found herself laying her interests out, naked in her expression. She wanted him to see even if his eyes would fall on her through a few glances over a class period.

He noticed. At first it was a few double takes, His eyes stopped, widened just so as his glances played over the crowd. Then a glance back to make sure he saw what he thought he saw.

And he did. Michaela's interests were literally as plain as the look on her face, revealing just what he could have from Michaela if he chose to take it.

As the semester went on quick glances lingered, drawing out into personal, intimate looks. In class he would still scan the room to make sure his words connected, but usually his eyes would come to rest on Michaela.

That's where it was when a thunderstorm rolled over Bellamy University one Friday night as Michaela walked home from a few lunch beers with her study group off campus. It was the kind of April evening she loved, warm dark, the sweet smell of rain in the air as the wind from the storm whirled leaves through the deserted paths between Bellamy's ivied buildings.

Walking by Grant Hall, Michaela noticed Professor Wolf's light glowed behind the second floor window of his office. Swathed in her favorite crimson hooded wrap, an undeniably beautiful if hipster part of her wardrobe, Michaela entertained the thought of popping in on him, throwing him a few coy flirts before finishing her trip to home and homework. Finals were coming after all.

The reasonable young woman she was becoming was about to convince the impulsive brat in her to ignore temptation, walk on and do the right thing. But the rain stopped threatening and instead began falling in a torrent.

Sometimes fate takes a hand, she said to herself, yanking open Grant Hall's the thick wooden door. Taking the stairs two at a time, she listened as the heels of her glossy black boots screeched through Grant Hall's central corridor. Otherwise the hall had the humming silence of a building cleared of people by the threat of rain, by dwindling Friday hours and by the spring fever which cleared college campuses in off hours since the dawn of university life.

Moving towards Professor Wolf's office, its window of pebbled glass displaying his name in thick, bold letters, Michaela had her first quiver of nerves. She had been fantasizing so long. Every possibility danced in a kaleidoscope of debauched images through her head. It was hard to grapple with the reality that the make or break moment of all those thoughts was about to be revealed inside his warm little office. Michaela found herself stopping half a hall from his door.

But her boots, and their squeaking echoes had already sealed her fate.

Before she could beat a graceful retreat, the Professor's door opened. His trim, handsome features faced her with an expression like surprise and relief.

"Oh, Michaela," Professor Wolf said. Something in his eyes, in his wry smile, seemed to whisper 'Finally.'

Every tense nerve in Michaela unwound. Her own smile bloomed. With no eyes on them, there was no need to hide anymore.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I was walking home and the heavens opened up. It's raining like crazy. So I thought I'd pop in for some warmth until I could keep walking home."

"I'd offer you a ride, but I'm waiting for some files. High res scans of Egon Schiele's 'Woman in Black Stockings.'"

"Oh, that sounds cool." Between their shared passion for art, for erotic imagery, blended with how they were looking at each other--frank and direct-- everything in the silence seemed to be pushing her towards what she had wanted for so long.

"My home wifi is constantly flaking out so I'm chained here if I want to download them in anything like a reasonable time."

"My internet is screaming," she said. "Maybe you should come over and borrow some."

Michaela gave him a simple, sweet smile, hoping to offer the space to read it however he liked. A cautious, flattered smile came over him.

"Ah... ha," he said. "That is something to think about for sure."

"Is it?" Michaela said, bending closer.

"It is," he said. "You're graduating in June, right?"

"I am," Michaela said. They looked at each other with half grins. There was a lull as they each cast for something new to talk about. Michaela could feel a humming up between them, but also coyness as they circled the subject for a way to break through the confines of their formal roles.

"Well, why don't you come in while I wait for the internet, and you wait for the rain," he said. Standing against the open door, Professor Wolf waved her into his snug office. It was just as she remembered it, but in their flirtation, felt smaller.

Crammed with books, prints of every kind of art, there was an ancient radiating heater against the wall below his window, an ornate antique desk ladened with even more books and art journals. In front of his desk were two chairs, and behind them against the wall facing his chair was a love seat of stuffed, dark brown leather. The air mixed the rich smell of the leather, the vanilla sweetness of the old books and the wet, electric scent of the storm outside.

Without thinking, Michaela walked beside his desk then rounded it to stand in front of his chair.

"You're going to take my desk, are you?" the professor teased, closing the door. There was a thick clack as the spring lock popped home.

"Ha," she said, catching herself. "I'm not sure what I was thinking."

Before she could slip out to the student side of the desk, Professor Wolf stepped towards her. He blocked Michaela from moving unless she wanted to step very close to him. Looking up into his eyes, she found him looking at her in a way she had never seen before.

There were the familiar features, the same sparking intelligence in his aspect, the same warmth, but under all that there was a shift, to a watching, *** gaze. The look, his feral interest written across such a safe and trusted face, shot a wave of heat through her again. If it weren't for her crimson wrap, he would be mauling her chest with his eyes.

"And what is it you are thinking, Michaela? What is it you're REALLY thinking?" His words rang with an iron confidence. Her surrender was an instant of smoldering glee. "I think we've come to the moment where you need to say it."

"I want... You," Michaela said, his eyes acting like a truth serum on her. She went from coy secrets to a desire to tell him everything.

"Now Michaela, you know I can't do that," Professor Wolf said. But he took a step closer. Michaela turned her head, from shyness, from the power he was projecting.

She wasn't shrinking. She was submitting.

"I know. But I want to," she said. Dragging her eyes back to him, she undid the clasp at her throat, dropped the hood and shrugged the wrap from around her. As he stood watching, not moving to allow her to hang it, she dropped it in a heap on his desk.

"And how do I know that? A lot of girls have fantasies of their professors. You're gone in a month. This is my job for life."

"I'm young," she said, taking silent delight in his gaze falling from her eyes to the angle of her chin, down to her throat, to the curve of her breasts bound in her new push-up bra. "But I'm not a girl. No more of a girl than Holly."

At the mention of Holly, there was a brief crackle of something... *** perhaps... across his face. It was gone in an instant, but it was there. As she searched to read his face, Michaela found herself in another pregnant silence as he sized her.

"You know Holly?" the professor asked.

"She's my good friend. She dispelled me of some of your... mystique," Michaela said. "But she built another one."

"Did she?"

"Yes," Michaela said. With him so near, looking at her with such close attention, she knew what she wanted from Professor Wolf, what she had desired for so long. The entire fantasy of adult lust was finally within reach.

"She didn't mean any harm," Michaela said. "I hope I'm not getting her in trouble. That's definitely not my intention."

"It may have been hers," Professor Wolf said. "She enjoys what comes from being in trouble with me. But I'll deal with her later. How do I know I'm not taking my future in my hands if we... do this?"

"Because I want it."

"Things change after two people are together. A lot of things are regretted after they've happened. How do I know you won't string me up as a dirty old man?"

Michaela laughed. "Dirty, old... What are you, 30?"

"36," Professor Wolf said.

Now Michaela's eyes wandered. Even through his trousers, wrinkled from sitting all day in the humid air, his white shirt, tie, she could tell he did more with his body than sit and write books.

"I know myself. I've seen a man older than you, and... I haven't been able to get his image out of my mind," Michaela said.

"Is that so?"

"On Mondays and weekends I work at a bar and restaurant in Chicago, the Lancaster. Have you heard of it?"

He shook his head. Michaela took a deep breath and let her gaze rest on Professor Wolf's. She wanted to see him as she told this story.

"Well, my boss is older than you, but he doesn't act like an old man," she said. "I was closing late one night with one of the bartenders when my boss and his wife rushed into the place in the middle of the night. They didn't know we were there. I'd thought about him a few times, nothing too crazy. Just naughty older man fantasies. Anyway, he dragged his wife to the back of the place and laid her out on the pool table."

Professor Wolf said nothing. He ran the tip of his tongue along his upper lip in an *** release. The gesture flared a wave of heat through Michaela.

"I sat in a hidden corner of the bar smoking a cigarette as he fucked the screams out of her. As he was going down on her, driving her crazy, all I could do was wish that was me. Ever since then, when I see you, I have to restrain myself from reaching out. It's impossible to concentrate on your lessons. All I think about is you putting me on your teaching lectern and having you take what I want to give you."

Michaela was silent. She let her wordless gaze on him say the rest. Professor Wolf said nothing, his mind seeming to whirl through one last set of decisions.

"What did Holly tell you?"

"Not much. But enough," Michaela said. "This can be our secret."

"No... It will be my secret." The *** had returned to his voice. "You'll have to do something for me if you want this."

"What?" There was a flare of heat on the back of Michaela's neck.

The dance of flirtation was over. Now, the nameless event Michaela had desired for so long had begun. The heat between her thighs, nestled between her legs, was amazing. This was going to be so different from being with boys her own age.

Professor Wolf stepped back and fished his phone from his pocket. He set it on the flat of his desk and motioned her to it.

Stepping to it, he pointed to the face. She could see the video camera function was on and see her own face mirrored there. He hit the record button. The blinking red indicator on the interface felt like a mirror of her own pounding heart.

"What is it you want Michaela? What are you here for?"

She looked to him, but with a stern look he pointed back to the screen. They were playing with fire. Sexual politics on campus, really any campus across the country, were fraught with consent and tension. Some campus organizations at Bellamy had even created intimacy contracts and urged students to use them to make sure no one, were coerced by drinking, ***r pressure, upperclassmen into regretful sexual adventures. It was a good-hearted impulse taken to a far reaching extreme.

Seeing Professor Wolf twist the taboo climate of consent around them gave Michaela the kinkiest thrill she had yet felt in her life. Looking at herself there, she could see the color rising on her throat and chest.

"I want you, Professor Wolf," she said, watching herself confessing her lust into his phone. Into his possession.

"I think you can call me Nathan," he said. Now she gave him a stern look.

"No, Professor Wolf," she said, a defiant gleam lighting her eyes. He smiled, but pointed back to the camera.

"I want Professor Wolf to be with me," Michaela said, her confession now gaining momentum. "I want to be with him. I'm giving myself over to him to do whatever he wants. He's handsome, wonderful, smart and amazing. This is me saying yes to whatever he wants."

Michaela rose and felt as if she was in a fever, watching for his next move. With a smooth motion, he leaned in. Excited, she moved to him, eager to feel his lips. But his hand rose to her throat, holding her in place. He shook his head.

"Not yet," he said. He curved his hand back around her and stopped the recording.

Leaning back up, his transformation from respectable professor to wanton master was complete.

The way he looked at her was lewd, stripped bare, drenched in lust. Michaela wondered if she should be offended at how she was becoming transformed in his eyes. But she wanted this, all of it, so much.

"Stay where you are, and put your hands on the desk," he said.

A swoon of excitement rolled through Michaela as she pressed her palms flat on the wood expanse of the desk, her ass jutting out as she leaned over. Even touching the wood with her fingers drew an exciting sensation through her nerves.

"Don't move," Professor Wolf said. He moved to his office door, flicking the lock closed with a final click. "So you were saying you were having trouble with the lessons."

"Yes," Michaela said, watching him from over her shoulder.

"That doesn't make me happy as your teacher. I'm here for you to learn. I think I've been pretty good about preparing my lessons. I can't help but think the fault is yours."

"Yes, it is," Michaela said, eager to confess. ***ly her ass jutted out further as her back arched with the tension.

"I think I've been pretty good at giving positive feedback, positive encouragement," he continued.

"Yes, you have."

"Yes, I have... What?"

Michaela paused for a moment, unsure of the question. Then answer struck her as though she had known it for awhile.

"Yes, Sir."

Professor Wolf smiled a wicked smile.

"I think now I need to show you the price of failing when so many work so hard for you, Michaela," Professor Wolf said. He loosened his tie as he moved close behind her. "Your parents working to pay for this. Your fellow students and professors working to make all this meaningful for you. And you can't even be bothered to pay attention. You don't want to enter the adult world as a brat."

"No... Sir," Michaela said. Her voice trembled. So did her legs, arms, stomach... every inch of her was one quiver of anticipation.

"Holly was a brat, but I set her straight," he said. "Are you saying you need her same private instruction?"

"Yes," Michaela said. Her voice was so fast, so desperate to succumb it was like her desire was its own *** in the room.

"Look forward," he ordered. Michaela ***d her eyes off him, looking at a print of Helmut Newton's Office Love on the wall behind his desk. Her eyes widened at the lurid nature of the photograph, as if seeing it for what it was for the first time.

One of the most famous works of art of the 1970s, a ravishing woman lay back on a desk high in an office tower, her dress pulled down, her breasts spread to the world, while a man in an elegant suit sucks her exposed nipple. As she realized the man who had chosen to display that piece in his office was standing behind her, watching her, a wave of excitement, almost to the point of panic, moved through her.

"Now I'm going to give you some negative feedback, to show you how cruel the world can be to brats," he said. "Then I'm going to give you some new, positive feedback to show you how a woman who works hard, accomplishes important things can find rewards in this life. Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes," Michaela said, looking back at him. She wanted him to see her desire to submit. Her need made the words almost a sob.

"Eyes FORWARD," he said, the order so firm his voice touched her like a firm hand on her skin.

No sooner had she looked forward than Professor Wolf brought his tie to her mouth, forcing the strip of fabric across her lips like a gag. Her mouth opened and she felt it pull at the sides of her mouth. As he pulled tighter, she felt him tie it off at the back of her head. Before panic could bloom in her at the first gag she had ever been subjected to, she felt his hand lift her skirt.

Then, all there was in the world was a flash of white *** stinging her ass with a wicked heat. Her cry died against his tie in her mouth, and Michaela knew exactly why Holly had been so protective of the professor's secrets. If the wrong person saw this, his career would end in the space of a heartbeat. And she wanted more of him.

Tears of lust and joy and *** rose in Michaela's eyes as she looked back to watch the professor work. He eyed her in silence, his firm, soft, warm hands grabbing her panties and sliding them down her legs. Michaela stepped out of them, but was careful to stay rooted to the desk. With her skirt hiked over her hips and her ass naked, she arched back even more.

Professor Wolf looked at her with a craven leer. The desire in his eyes took her breath from her. Without a word, she leaned down farther, prostrating before him.

The air in the warm office, with the rain and lightning rumbling outside, was quiet and still and filled with her raging heartbeat. Her eyes watched as his hand arched up again and fell with a crashing slap. The sound of his flesh hitting her ass was like a branch snapping. The ***, sweet, sour and wild, filled Michaela's throat with an unvoiced scream. Only a muffled moan could be heard from her.

The *** and the want, the desire he was showing, the command and need she could see, wrapped Michaela in a swelter of sensations unlike anything she had felt in her 22 years.

Still without a word, Professor Wolf moved to her side, his right hand on her ass, soothing the red welt he was growing, his left brushing her shoulder with a tenderness that gave the fire in her ass cheek in a new, sizzling spin. One hand slid down the arch of her back, soothing, comforting, while his other rose again for a third vicious strike.

A strangled howl came to her voice. To her own ears, Michaela sounded like an *** keening in heat. Finally, as the tension ratched between them, she could see Professor Wolf beginning to falter in his control. Soon, she would have him, she knew.

His soothing hand moved back up her body as the heat raged on her ass. Eyes on her, daring her to move, watching her resolve, the professor held her look as he moved his hand over her neck, into the gap of her hanging shirt, to slide under the top of her bra.

Just as his fingers found her nipple, stiff with excitement, his hard hand fell again. The mixture of his hand on her breast, warm, holding, stroking, delighting, and the scorching *** on her ass were a revelation. The wild thought came to her mind that if he slapped her ass while he fucked her, she might never want another man again.

As his fingers brushed and pinched her nipple with such a sweet pressure, Michaela began to rise, desperate to give herself to him, to feel his lips.

"No," Professor Wolf said. "You stay where I put you."

His finger left her chest, grasping her shoulder and pushed her back down. Her cheek rested on the desk, her ass rising even higher for him, for herself. The feeling of his hands arranging her was another new delight.

"Uh huh," was all she could manage through the gag.

Then she felt her glorious effect on him. He came closer, the hand on her ass grasping firmly to shift her, his other sliding around under the waistband at the front of her skirt. One hand on her back, his other slid over her skin and cupped her sopping mound. With him closer, she could feel the fabric of his pants against the flesh of her thigh, and feel his hardness. Involuntarily her mouth opened at the forbidden shock of feeling his cock, hard and full, desiring her young body, pressing her for the first time. Every fantasy she had felt shot through her in that moment, feeling as though the lust of her entire life was about to be satisfied.

Here was the man she had idolized and hungered for all her college life with his hands on her, his desire manifest in hard flesh pressing deliciously against her thigh. He was in control, but she could feel she would soon have him as he now had her.

Like a dream his index finger slid down the crease of her lips, curling in her as his ring finger brushed her clit.

She screamed in pleasure with the sudden answer to her greedy need. But Professor Wolf was ready for this too. With the lush feeling of his fingers on her soft core still blushing through her body, Michaela felt slap after slap on her ass, one cheek then the other, back and forth.

The vibration of her body from behind drove her clit against his cupping hand at her front. The tension in her body was so great, so extreme and unknown from anything she had ever experienced, Michaela felt the two sensations merge into an orgasm crashing and shocking in its sudden revelation.

"AAAaaaahhhhh," Michaela cried through teeth gritted around the silk fabric of his tie. Her eyes raged around the room, finally coming to Professor Wolf's grinning face. She wanted him to see what he had done, to see the shock in her at his mastery, to submit her own pleasure to him. With just a few strokes he had made her body react and explode like no one ever had.

From his smile he knew what he had done. Then the rising churn of the orgasm crested so high Michaela could do no more than smash her eyes shut and feel the pleasure and heat of the world cascade through her.

She came back to her senses as a different person. Gone were the last morsels of her innocent, pre-sex self. She had been with boys, had sex, made love, fucked boys from high school and college. She had enjoyed her life, but now she could feel in herself, her body so expertly ravaged, what it was like to be an experienced woman. What it was like to be with a man who knew pleasure, knew skill, knew how to play her and not just stick it in.

As the glow of satisfaction began to fade back to her normal sensations, she knew this was a feeling she would be chasing for the rest of her life. The world coalescing back into form around her, Michaela realized the professor's hands no longer touched her.

Opening her eyes, she could see Professor Wolf standing tall, watching the effect he had on her send her through the final paroxysms of pleasure.

He stood before her as a new man to her, big, bad, a master, a ruler of her body. An entire aspect of his personality, already something she had cherished through her years in his classes, lay revealed and exotic before her. There was a darkness inside Professor Wolf that fascinated her, drawing on her yearning for the taboo. With the echoes of her climax still ringing through her, she realized nothing in her had been sated. Michaela wanted him more than anything she could remember desiring.

"Now," Professor Wolf said after a long pause, "please me."

His words broke across her like an energizing wave. A flush moved through Michaela, an excitement of release and motion to action. She could see him watching her, wondering just how she would pounce. The sensation was thrilling.

She rose with a slow deliberation, bringing herself to her full height. Looking him in the eye, she curled her fingers in the hem of her shirt and ***led it off over her head. His eyes dropped to her pale and curving body as her fingers moved to her hip, loosening her skirt. It whispered down her legs into a pool around her boots. Watching his eyes fall on her with a hungry appreciation was a naughty, private, gratifying approval.

Michaela felt the heat in her radiating, a full, hot sensation which made her warm even as she became naked. Her fingers found the back of her bra, opened it. The sound the professor made at the first sight of her breasts let Michaela know he did not hold all the power in this room.

With an *** impulse, Michaela brought a hand to cradle her right breast for a moment, watching Professor Wolf's eyes follow her fingers as she brushed a thumb on her nipple. The sensation of her areola hardening and crinkling under his gaze was so specific Michaela thought she could taste the wicked sweetness on her tongue.

Michaela shifted her feet, opening her stance so the professor could gaze at the wet, naked, wanting heat between her legs. Watching him, Michaela knew despite his bluster and control, her body was having an unnerving affect. He was silent as he marveled at her form. Michaela had never felt so beautiful, in control, and submissive at once.

Finally, she reached up and untied his silk tie from around her head, ungagging herself. She let it drop to her shoulders before throwing it around her neck like a thin scarf.

Then it was too much to hold back. Foreplay was over, her body was teased and humming, the pitch of lust in her so intense she needed to feel him. She had heard about the need for sex before, thought she had felt it, but now knew there were more desires outside of her college experience than she could possibly have contemplated. She had wanted people before. She had satisfied three of her friends from Bellamy's football team at once, and while that was a delicious memory, even that achievement paled to what she felt now.

Now, she needed Professor Wolf. She extended her hand to the professor's shirt and began to flick buttons open.

"No," Professor Wolf said. His hands rose to hold hers still, even as his buttons stayed pinched between her fingers. But she could hear the falter in his command. Now it was her who would take what she wanted.

"But I want to please you," she said, her eyes strong as she looked up to him. "All of you."

She could see the struggle in his eyes, between maintaining control and giving in to her temptations.

"Please... sir?" she said, affecting a young, sweet voice. Her temptation worked.

With a few buttons open, his hands slid away and she continued to open his shirt. The slim strip of skin between the parting fabric widened until she could see his strong chest, the dusting of black hair on his chest, the coffee colored nipples. She wanted to be deliberate and cool, but she could hold back no more.

She pulled his shirt out of his pants and yanked it down his arms. As it fluttered to the ground, she pressed her mouth to his chest, kissing a line down the crease of his muscles. There was a softness in his flesh, from a life of talking and thinking rather than working and labor. But she could see he worked to keep himself fit. There was a firmness in his chest honed in the gym.

Her nose slid across his skin, registering his firmness, the expansion of his chest as he groaned, the firm strength of his hand rising into her hair as she pulled his nipple into her mouth.

"Does this please you, sir?" she asked, even as the tight nub of his nipple traced across her upper lip.

"Yes," he gasped.

The lust in his voice, the ragged, unhitched quality of the sound assured her Professor Wolf was just where she wanted him. Kissing a trail to his belt, Michaela came to rest on her knees in front of him, intent on taking all that she had wanted for so long.

Unhitching his belt buckle, fingers moving to unbutton and unzip his slacks, Michaela felt a spark at every moment her touches brushed the hardness which tented his pants. No sooner had his slacks fallen than she could see the thick trunk of his hardness putting a bulge in his silk boxers.

Michaela felt her heart jump as she pressed her fingers and palm along the stiff form of the professor's cock.

"Is this what you want me to please, Sir?"

"Yes."

Pressing her thumb back and forth across the underside of the head, with nothing but thin fabric separating her touch with his hot skin, Michaela looked up the long trunk of Professor Wolf's body.

"May I kiss this, Sir?"

Professor Wolf answered not with a word, but with a ragged moan. With a wicked smile, satisfied at her power to unnerve him, Michaela grasped the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down.

His cock was different from those she had seen before. Somehow she could see the age. It wasn't quite as hard as those she had felt from her classmates, but somehow it also wasn't as charged with... chaos? Desperate energy? It was controlled.. Could a cock be confident? Michaela laughed inside at the idea.

It was full, thick, firm and somehow... patient. It was impossible to put into a meaningful thought. This was a mature cock and she was excited to see just how it differed from those she had felt before.

Michaela opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around the firm helmet, sucking his skin into her. The sweet, salty taste, the slick wetness of the divot in the tip slid over her tongue as she brought him in. Feeling the girth of it in her hand, the beat of his heart rippling through the vein brushing her cheek, gave her at once a surge of power and a desperate need to submit her body to his.

Sliding away, his cock rubbing along her tongue as she pulled back and plunged her mouth onto him again, brought the taboo twist of everything to her at once. Here she was, in a place of education, on her knees before one of the most famous and respected men on campus, sucking him with a slutty abandon. She could think of a hundred friends who would despise her for what she did now. Here she was, an attractive, punky young woman, still feeling her freedom, on her knees in front of a powerful, respected, accomplished man. Every taboo she had been warned about, had ended careers, had fired her lust for years clashed and swirled around her.

The forbidden undercurrent pushed her on like some exotic ****. Pulling her professor's cock back into her mouth, Michaela had the feeling her life was changing. Slathering her tongue on the bottom of his shaft, feeling the ridges and veins fill her mouth, listening to his breathing, raspy and intense, made her sure her sexual dalliances from here on out would venture farther, harder into the forbidden.

Every transgressing element around her made her want him more.

After a series of deep, wet gyrations, she pulled his wet cock from her mouth, sliding it across her cheek as her eyes danced up at him.

"Does this please you, Sir?"

Professor Wolf looked down with a crooked smile, sweat on his brow, and let his fingers dance over her forehead, dappled with sweat.

"It does, brat," he said. "But not as much as something else. I feel as though you've gotten this lesson. Now I want to give you what you want. To show you how you've grown with the lesson."

"What are you going to give me?"

"Don't be coy," the professor said. "Tell me what you want. You're an adult."

The desire in her was so sharp, she could not bring her mouth to utter it. She stood, curled her fingers around his neck, and pulled Professor Wolf down to her lips.

Their first kiss, coming after everything they had done, filled Michaela with another, harder burst of nerves. Feeling his mouth on hers, brushing her soft lips, his taste inside her as his tongue slid along hers, somehow drove the last of her nerves and senses to distraction.

Long, slow, lustrous moments passed as he held her snug to him. Her hard nipples dragged over chest, tickled by his hair. As the professor's mouth plunged to her neck, wet and full kisses starting ripples in the nerves of her throat, Michaela found her voice.

"I want you," she whispered into his ear. His motions didn't change, his mouth moving down, claiming her skin inch by inch. When she felt her nipple pulled into his wet, sucking kiss, she whimpered.

"I want you," she cried out. "Please, Sir."

Her fingers crossed and closed in his hair, pulling him harder, moving him as he licked and sucked one breast, then the other. It was his turn to flick his eyes up from the landscape of her body with his own wicked expression.

"What do you want?"

"You," Michaela said, a small, breathy sound.

The professor stood and stepped back, the press of his skin leaving her body. Every touch withdrew but for his fingertips brushing her hips.

"Don't do this Michaela," Professor Wolf said, stern and hard.

Michaela had a moment of panic, but there he stood, a wryness just under his hard expression. He was teaching her, she realized.

"What?" she asked. "What did I say?"

With a stage expression of disappointment, Professor Wolf let go of her, stepped back, and twirled his finger in the air.

"Turn around. Assume the position," he said.

"But..."

"Are you disobeying?" her professor asked.

"No, I..."

Michaela's thoughts careened through her brain, searching for the scrap which would allow her to understand. She turned in a daze, her front to his desk again, half realizing she was pressing her forearms to the wood, arching her ass out. For years after, she would wonder at the secret of his easy power over her.

As her mind raced, she felt the professor's hard, warm hand clutch the soft flesh of her ass, sliding in a small circle. He was readying to spank her ass again.

Why, she wondered, when she was so close to getting what she wanted?

I want you," she said, the answer filling her mind like a light.

"That's not it, Michaela. Be an adult, not a brat. What did I say?" he asked. The light in her mind roared from white to red as his hand swung and slapped her ass hard.

She gasped, pressing her forehead to the desk. "That is it. I want you."

"You know how I hate vague language," he said, but she could feel the path now.

As his hand drew back, Michaela opened her stance farther. She could feel the wetness of her pussy moisten her thighs. She looked back over her shoulder with an expression so direct it stayed Professor Wolf's hand.

"I want you inside of me," she said. "I want my favorite professor to fuck me. I want to feel you. I want my body to please you. I want you to please me with that."

Her eyes lowered to his cock, standing hard, jutting up from his flat pelvis. The professor's hand did not halt, but did slow. Instead of a slap, it came to her ass in a gentle caress. He brushed his palm across the new redness, a soothing little stroke. She was right.

Without a word, Michaela stood and spun until her ass pressed the cool wood of the desk. She rose onto her tiptoes until her ass cheeks were over the lip of the desk, and then slid back.

The cool wood felt wonderful on the hot skin of her ass, still red and stinging from his discipline. She slid back, listening to books and papers pushed off onto the floor behind her. With a coy look, Michaela dared him to protest, but he said nothing.

"I'm a good girl. I'm a clean girl. I take care of myself not to get pregnant," she said, opening her legs. "I want you in me. I want you to fuck me. I want you hard until you can't control yourself. I want you to risk and trust me. I want to give you this."

Michaela brushed her index finger up her pussy lip, glistening from her wetness. As Professor Wolf looked at her, she could feel years of anticipation of wanting, of needing, fantasies and questions, desires and impossibilities, coming to an end with her ass on his desk.

Without a sound, Professor Wolf stepped to her. His left hand grasped her thigh, holding it, moving it, opening it just a bit more. His right hand dropped, fingers curling around the base of his cock, lowering it.

There was a fluttering thrill in Michaela's stomach as she realized he was lowering the head to the level of her opening. Then her eyes widened with the wonderful pressure of his thickness slipping between her wet lips. In a heartbeat, his shaft filled her in one pleasure drenched stroke.

She felt her eyes half close, heard her voice give a cry tinged with lust, her fingernails sc*** across the desk as the pleasure was too much to enjoy in a single moment.

"Oh... Oh God. Fuck me Sir. Fuck me professor," she heard herself gasp.

His hand still on her left thigh, holding her steady, Professor Wolf put his right hand at the back of her neck, holding her upper and lower body steady by his two strong hands as he sawed out of her, then back into his hilt. The pleasure was explosive.

Held in his grip, Michaela could feel all the strength of her professor plunging into her, his ridges and shaft stroking her again and again deep inside. The feeling of his cockhead driving down into her, the sweat on his face, the *** intensity in the eyes she knew to be so intelligent and gentle in class... it was more than she could handle.

"Oh, oh, oh..." Michaela moaned, her fingers flying from the desk to grab at his chest, his arms, his shoulders. Her legs crossed and clamped around him. She could not do enough to get him deeper into her.

"Do you think you've learned your lesson? Do you think you're ready for what I really have to teach you Michaela?"

"Yes Sir," Michaela said without a moment of thought. "Please don't stop. Please help me learn my lessons."

She wanted to weep from the pleasure. Stroke after stroke, as his eyes roamed her body with a hungry satisfaction, her professor drove pleasure into her every limb, and watched his progress as she writhed and squirmed from it under his unbroken attention.

"Are you ready?" the professor asked, his hips jerking back and forth between her thighs. For a brief moment, she wanted to ask 'for what?' Then it hit her, and all of it was too much.

"Yes. I want you inside of me," she said, even as her legs began to quiver and she felt the muscles of her pelvis clench in release. "Oh, FUCK. I'm coming Sir. I'm coming on your fucking cock. Give it to me."

Everything tender and controlled left Professor Wolf's manner. Everything she recognized as her professor was gone. His hands became vises on her skin, the clamping *** giving an exotic twist to the pleasure cascading through her. Under her, she could feel the desk move in rhythm to his thrusts, the legs banging the floor as each push resonated with the last and brought the wooden legs to rocking.

This was the bad man inside the good one. This was the *** she had suspected and desired in Professor Wolf. His face was a mask of raging lust, of boundless thirst, of desperate madness to release. In some distant nerve, she felt his hand bite her ass again with slaps. She could hear it like a muffled snap as her every attention was wrapped in the pleasure her climax delivered.

"Ahhh!" he screamed. She felt his hands close like jaws on her ass, his teeth open and grab the flesh of her shoulder as she felt his cock swell within her. Between his slaps, pinches, bites and *** bellows, Michaela honed in on the sensation inside. He was pulsing out his pleasure, his cock clenching as he filled her. Through the riot of sensations, she opened her eyes to see Professor Wolf's handsome features wrecked by passion, Michaela was sent aloft again on one last jut of pleasure.

After long moments, warm and silent, secreted in his office, they began to come back to themselves.

Without a word, the excited girl in her pushed Michaela to press a kiss on Professor Wolf's lips. She stroked his cheek even as he remained buried inside her.

"Thank you," she whispered. His kiss, soft and firm, tender and powerful, was every cross-cutting sensation she loved. She stroked her heel against his ass as he broke their kiss.

When she finally emerged from the building, the worst of the storm had passed. The streets were slick with rain as her lonely boots clicked on the pavement. She walked through a dream, her mind lost in the depraved revelry she had just enjoyed.

Half way home, her phone buzzed. It was an unfamiliar number. A moment later, a text came from the same number. It read:

"Your further instruction can continue at West Alcorn Street. Also, Holly says hello."

Michaela smiled again, even as her satisfaction was already growing into a new hunger.

[pr****]

I believe this book is on wattpad.

[Ro****]

Delicious read that has relatable fantasies