What happened in the lecture hall, was that real or did your imagination play you a trick? I lean over the sink in my office and turn on the tap. Trying to fight thoughts of you, I splash cold water on my face. The throbbing in my pants won’t stop. I can’t help but think about my fingers running down your body. Adjusting my coat to your gorgeous silhouette. I can still hear your rapid breath. The beautiful way your breasts heaved as I moved my hands lower. I slide down into the armchair opposite my disheveled desk. My mind lingers back to your hot lips. I clear my throat and look around trying to clear my mind. A decent-sized space furnished with an expensive taste. Leather armchairs, soft fabric sofa and journals filling the large mahogany bookcase. Thoughts of your perfect breasts in that wet t-shirt encompass my mind once again. It’s a bit of cliché isn’t it? Young professor, gorgeous student. Eyes meet, smiles exchanged. Then the inevitable. I can already feel the pulsing in my pants again. I try to shake the thoughts from my head. But I find my right hand already lightly pressing against my manhood. Then I hear a timid knocking on the door. My heart leaps. It’s a quiet and unassuming knock, but in my head it’s loaded with possibility. I hesitate, my hand still hovering above my clothed cock. I can’t be caught in this state, touching myself, thinking of you. My breath catches at the thought it might be you. Then I watch, still, as the handle turns and slowly the door opens. Relief and desire wash through me when I see you in your figure-hugging white shirt. And a pretty little skirt that barely skims your thighs. Oh you look so good. My heart feels like it stops for a moment. You carefully close the door behind you. You’re holding my jacket in your right hand. You tell me you wanted to return it to me. But everything about your body language tells me you’re here for something else.
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