Summary: Raven wants a good grade in her class.
Keywords: MF
Author: Chrysoberyl Rosewood
Title: The Professor

The Professor (Unfinished)

(MF college cons)

by Chrysoberyl Rosewood

April 2001 



Note From Chrys:

Mmmm. Professor. Mmmm. Why can't my life be like this? Mmmm. 

<3, Chrys 



The Story:

"And that," he finished, "is why J.D. Salinger chose 'Catcher in the 
Rye' over any alternative titles he had picked out for his book." 

I sat, motionless, as always, absorbed by the thick German accent of my 
English professor. I watched his eyes dance as he looked round the 
classroom, seeking out confirmation that his words were being 
understood, and most everyone was nodding. I was nodding myself, both 
because his words mesmerized me with their stunning clarity and the way 
his jeans hugged all the right places when he turned to the blackboard. 

"Now, I want you to read the next 150 pages for Thursday so we can 
discuss it. If you haven't gotten up to where we are in the reading, I 
suggest you do that as quickly as possible." 

Everyone was gathering up their books to leave. 

"Oh, and I've got your tests graded. Don't forget to come pick them up 
as you leave." 

I stood in line behind the other students, and when I reached the 
front, he rifled through the stack mumbling my name. "Raven ... Raven 
... Ah, Raven, here you are," he smiled, looking at me with those 
piercing blue eyes as my knees almost buckled, handed me the paper, 
then turned to the next student. 

I drifted in a sort of trance out of the room thinking, as I usually 
did when I left that class, how nice it would be to see him completely 
naked and moaning my name much the way he did when he was looking for 
my paper, then was jolted rudely awake by the "D+" scrawled across the 
top of my paper. Next to it was written, "Please come see me tomorrow 
at 9 a.m." 

"What?" I said to myself, in disbelief. "I can't believe ..." 

I hurried to my next class, poring over the notes he left, and telling 
myself that this is the last time I take a class not required for my 
major. And "please come see me tomorrow at 9 a.m."? What does that 
mean? No other professor has ever requested me to come see them, no 
matter how bad my grade was. Well, at least he wanted to help. 

I sighed. 

***** 

The next day, bright and early, I moped over to Jefferson Hall, still 
bemoaning my low grade. I mounted the stairs and rounded the corner to 
his office. I found it at the end of a hallway, thinking to myself 
about the story he told us of how he became and English professor when 
he had lived in Germany his whole life. His fascination with the 
English language drove him to read all sorts of literature, yet even 
though he knew the classics better than some of the native English 
professors, he was still relegated to the lowlier of classes. With a 
sparkle in his eye, he said, "But I still love teaching, make no 
mistake about that. It's almost better this way--no one checks in on me 
for what I'm doing." 

I raised my hand to knock and was stopped short when I saw that a tiny 
corner of the black paper covering the window was peeling back as if 
from being there so long. I couldn't contain my curiosity, and looking 
down the hallway to see if anyone was coming, I looked through into his 
office. 

I gasped and jumped back, my eyes shifting nervously to the left and to 
the right to make sure that no one was around, then I looked again. 

Sitting there with his head thrown back was Professor Rammstein. One 
hand worked its way through his thick, brown, tousled hair, and the 
other was working slowly up and down the shaft of quite an enormous 
penis. My breath caught in my throat. 

I glanced at my watch. 9:02. 

Keeping my eye to the hole, I knocked. 

Professor Rammstein started, then smiled a mischievous smile. He 
quickly tucked his still erect organ back into his pants--I still don't 
know how he managed it--pulled a book down from a shelf, sat it in his 
lap, and shouted, "Come in!" 

I stood up, gulped, then opened the door. 

"Yeah, yeah, ok ..." he said into the telephone nestled in his ear as 
he rifled through the book. "Tomorrow is fine. Ok ... yeah ... I'll see 
you later. Goodbye." He hung up and turned to me. 

I took an involuntary step back. 

"Ah, Raven. Shut the door, would you?" 

I turned round, then quietly and slowly shut the door. 

"Hi, Professor Rammstein. I can't believe I did so badly on this test. 
I studied so hard for it and--" 

"Oh, call me Johann," he said. "I said that on the first day of class 
... Now, your test," he said, holding out his hand. The book was still 
clutched firmly against his crotch. 

There was something about the whole situation that was oddly exciting 
to me. I really shouldn't do this, I told myself. This is wrong. He's 
your professor and he gets paid to do this job and he can't ... 

He was grinning at me as I rifled through my bookbag, the same grin 
that had been on his face when I knocked. 

At that moment, I was sold. I didn't need anymore convincing. I'd 
wanted him since that first moment he strode into the classroom, and 
the image returned of the sheer size of his dick as he caressed himself 
moments earlier. I had never been with a guy that large before--hell, 
I'd never seen a guy that large before, as long as we're not talking 
porn here. I needed him, and I needed him badly. 

I placed into his hand the offending test and as our fingers brushed, I 
realized it was the hand the worked his member just a few moments 
earlier. 

He held it up as though reading it, and I sat into the chair closest to 
his desk, which wasn't difficult in the cramped space, and slid off my 
coat. 

I licked my lips. 

"Now, I think that you show potential," he said. "I found your essay 
quite insightful, but there is something lacking." 

He went on for a moment, and my eyes never left his, which continuously 
dropped to the paper and back up again. 

He stopped. "Is there something wrong?" he asked suddenly, looking a 
bit unnerved himself. 

"No," I said, casually turning to the door. I idly reached up and 
played with the loose bit of paper that had allowed me full view of his 
escapades. I turned around to see a look of panic on his face. "Now," I 
said, "I think we both know why I'm here." 

I let those words hang in the air. 

"My God, Raven, I don't know--I don't know what to say--Scheisse--" he 
swore in German. 

"But," I said, then moved my hand slowly to his knee and began kneading 
his leg, "I don't really mind. In fact, I'm damn happy about it ..." 

I kissed him then, standing half out of my chair and bending over him. 
For a moment there was no response, then he started kissing me back. 

He stood up, the paper and the book falling completely forgotten to the 
floor. 

My head was tipped back, as he stood a little taller than me, and then 
I felt his tongue spread my lips. He slowly caressed the inside of my 
mouth, then reached in deeper to find my tongue. I stood there, 
drinking him in, tasting him, and letting him press further into my 
mouth. He bumped my tongue playfully, then slowly caressed up and down 
it. 

He pulled away. 

I gasped at the absence of touch, and the realization of what was 
happening flooded over me. "Oh, God," I said. My professor just kissed 
me, and it wasn't exactly a platonic kiss. "Maybe ..." 

I opened my eyes and whatever was going to come after "maybe" died in 
the back of my throat. He was picking up the paper and book and 
stacking them neatly on his desk. He pulled open a desk drawer and out 
came a keyring. 

"Not here," he whispered. "But there is a classroom no one uses this 
semester. Come with me." 

He grabbed a handful of papers, and as I stepped back I could see why. 
The raging erection was apparent, and he positioned his arm ingeniously 
to hide any sign that there was something amiss. 

We walked quickly out of the room and down the hall. He smiled at one 
of his colleagues carrying a cup of coffee, then turned down another 
corridor. He stopped abruptly in front of a door, rifled through the 
keys, unlocked the door with a swift movement, and kicked it open. 

A second later, we were inside, the door locked, and the lights on. He 
strode around the room, making sure the blinds were closed tightly, and 
then returned to me. 

I surveyed the room. There were tables, enough for three people to sit 
at each, with large cushy rolling chairs. There were two rows of them, 
one on the left side of the room, and one on the right side. Between 
them there was a space of about five feet. As I looked over the room, I 
wondered to myself why we had to have such a crappy room for Professor 
Ra--I mean, Johann's class. 

He turned to me, a look of anticipation on his face, and soon we were 
kissing again with fervor. 

This time he pulled my body against his roughly and his hands were on 
my ass, grinding them into his hips. I felt the long length of his cock 
against my belly and I moaned as his tongue caressed mine. He pulled 
back, then returned to kiss my neck and I said, "I've--I've never been 
with anyone so big before." 

The voice sounded strange and foreign, and he pulled back, looking at 
me with lowered lids. "I swear to you that you will love it." His voice 
was so soothing and erotic that worry left me and his tongue was 
playing around the outside of my ear as we embraced again. 

"How--How old are you?" I whispered. 

"I'm 31," he replied. "And you're 19?" 

I nodded, giggling as his breath tickled my neck. 

"Please, please," he said, pulling back. "Now I want to see you get 
naked." 

It was highly abrupt, but it seemed to fit. I stepped back and began a 
strip show. 

Up and over my head went my shirt, and down, down went my pants. I was 
standing there only in my matching bra and panties, and he brushed his 
own crotch as he said, "Please, off, please ..." 

I quickly unsnapped the bra and threw it to the floor, my breasts on 
display for his perusal. He closed the distance between us quickly, and 
soon his tongue was working its magic on my left nipple. He sucked it 
in and out of his mouth, hard and then letting go quickly so that I 
gasped. He did this again and again, until it was as hard and erect as 
it could be, then moved to the right nipple to give it the same lavish 
treatment. 

I was squirming and moaning underneath him when he stepped back and 
nodded. I knew what I was supposed to do. I pulled off my panties. 

This time as he came towards me, he scooped me up and placed me on one 
of the tables. He gently separately my legs with his hands, so that I 
was sitting completely naked and spread-eagled on the table. 

"Mmm, that's gorgeous," he said, staring down into my pussy, watching 
as my juices flowed freely. He caressed my leg, teasing me, slowly 
sliding his fingers up. He finally reached the juncture of my legs, and 
then he began to caress my outer lips. I moaned, feeling the pressure 
and the heat his fingers generated, and he then moved to caress my 
inner lips. 

"Oh, Johann," I moaned, "touch me ..." 

His fingers never stopped their slow, steady progression across my 
cunt. He stroked around my entrance, and I responded by tightening and 
loosening my muscles, trying to get him to go inside. His thumb slipped 
across my clit and I gasped and threw my head back. "Beautiful, Raven," 
he said, then plunged one finger into me. 

I squeezed his finger, then released, squeezed and released, as he 
began to finger fuck me. Soon, a second finger found its way in, and he 
gently caressed my clit. I was in ecstasy, and he stroked his fingers 
long, hard strokes in and out of me. "Johann, oh, fuck, Johann," I 
whispered to him. A third finger joined the previous two and slid 
inside of me. The pleasure in my center continued to sweep over me with 
every stroke that he made. 

I was moaning and writhing so much that soon my body lay flat against 
the table and my hips were bucking into the air. Still he maintained 
that slow, steady pace of his fingers in and out of my body, and I 
squeezed, trying to pull him deeper into me. His thumb began to move 
faster on my clit and my moans were not stopping now. He fucked me as I 
looked up at him, a look of intense concentration on his face. His 
other hand was caressing his crotch, but when he saw me looking at him, 
he dropped his dick and used that hand to squeeze my nipple. 

"I'm ... gonna ..." I moaned, and he leaned his body over me to begin 
sucking the other nipple. His fingers increased their friction in my 
cunt, pushing me higher and higher, and he bit my nipple gently and I 
squeezed my eyes tight. 

I bore down on his fingers, squeezing them as I came, the sharp tip of 
orgasm splitting my body. I wriggled and moaned, my shoulders rising 
off the table and my hips grinding as hard against his hand as I could. 
Waves of pleasure washed over my body and his fingers continued to fill 
me until he had drained every last bit of orgasm from my body that he 
could. 

I collapsed onto the table, panting, and he slid his fingers out from 
me and caressed his hand over my stomach. 

A minute passed, then I slowly sat up, a bit sore from the hardness of 
the table. 

To be continued ... 

*****

Write me: ChrysRosewood@yahoo.com

http://www.asstr.org/~Chrysoberyl/