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.

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 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.

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