Took me awhile to write this one. I was concerned about how it would come across.

As some of you know, I grew up in a small town, kinda sheltered. So when I went Off to College, it was a big deal. Yes, the college wasn’t really big by the standards of most states but it was a huge culture shock to me. Plus, I was going through my Poetess stage, where I dressed gothy and wrote godawful poetry that no, no one will ever ever see again. And so it was that I fell in love with my Freshman Composition professor. She was the first out lesbian I had ever seen, let alone met. She had short blonde hair, wore no makeup and dressed in boots and jeans with a jacket and a button down shirt, usually without a bra because she was at least as flat-chested as me. I mooned over her for months and frantically masturbated to her in my dreams (thank GOD my roommate was almost never there). Finally, I decided to turn in an assigned poem that (cringe!) was a confession of my love for her. The next day, everyone got their assignment back and I was sure I was going to be failed. Or expelled. Or both. There was no grade, just a note saying “See me.” She left with all the other students and I had another class so it wasn’t until the end of the day that I showed up at her office. I still remember the poster on her door, a topless woman wearing a gorilla mask. I stood there in my ratty jeans (and boots, yes I was trying to dress like her too; I didn’t cut my hair though. At that point in life, I had never cut my hair, really). I knocked, scared to death, and she told me to come in. She was seated behind her desk, in an office filled with books, and told me “shut my door.” Those three words frightened and thrilled me. I realized that just being close to her, I was getting turned on.

Read more: Higher Education

“Y-yes…”

“Is it supposed to be addressed to me?”

“…yes…” 

“Is it because you are in love with me?”

“No!”

“No? So maybe you just want to fuck me?”

I’m pretty sure I gasped at that, not because I was some blushing virgin but because of the thrill that shot through my pussy at her words. I couldn’t say anything.

She stood up. I could see her shirt was unbuttoned.

“Then maybe you want me to fuck you?”

I still couldn’t say a word.

“Do. You. Want. Me. To. Fuck. You?”

I was so wet by that point I was sure she could tell. “Please…”

She walked from around the desk and looked me over coldly.

“Bend over,” she ordered.

I scrambled to obey, bending over her desk, trembling. I thought she was going to spank me for some odd reason.

She reached around me and unbuttoned my jeans then shoved them down, then my panties. I moaned as she caressed my ass.

“What do you want?”

“Please…”

She pinched me. Hard.

“What do you want?!”

“Please! Please fuck me!”

She slid a finger into my throbbing wet pussy and began fingering me.

“Like this? You like this?”

“…yes…” I bit my lip, hard.

She didn’t say anything, but slid another finger in and banged me until I came. My legs gave way, I slid down to the floor, my jeans and panties around my ankles and my bare ass on the cool tile floor.

I looked up at her. She was wiping her fingers off with a Kleenex.

“Get out,” she ordered.

And that’s how it started.