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The New Teacher

 
Post #1


The New Teacher</p>

Kathryn M. Burke</p>

1</p>
"Omigod, Bethany, isn't he gorgeous?" Janet gushed.
I agreed with her.
Janet was referring to a new professor, Miles Foster, who had just shown up at our college. Janet and I were both starting our sophomore years at a small liberal arts college in Illinois--you'll never have heard of it, so I won't mention the name. I'd just turned nineteen over the summer and was feeling I was hitting my stride in my college career. Freshman year I'd been so scared of failure that I'd not done much except hit the books. Now I felt more confident--both about my mind and about whether I might be attractive to boys. I'd not had a lot of experience in that department!
But I'll tell you, Professor Foster threw me for a loop.
Janet and I had signed up for his class on Early American History, and we'd almost fainted (along with the other girls in class) when he'd first stepped into the room. Unlike most of our professors (male and female) at college, who were so old that they reminded you not of your father or mother but of your grandparents, Miles (I hope he'll allow me to call him that) was probably not much more than thirty, if even. And he was that perfect combination of brains and brawn that so many women (including me) wanted more than anything in the world.
Of course he was smart; he wouldn't have been hired if he wasn't. But he had this resonant baritone voice that just made you go goose-pimply all over. And there was a lot more about him that was appealing aside from his voice! A face that looked like it had been sculpted out of granite, but that still had its soft and tender side; broad shoulders, robust pectorals (we could tell that because one day, when it was warm outside, he'd abandoned his usual tweed jacket and worn only a polo shirt that clung to every part of his torso), strong thighs and calves... and none of us doubted that there was a luscious bulge somewhere in the area of his groin, although he tended to wear baggy pants that wouldn't show anything like that. He was at least six feet tall, meaning he towered over most of the girls in his class. (I was a petite five foot four and felt like a Lilliputian next to him.)
Sometimes, several of the girls hung around class after it was over just to watch him gather up his papers, put them in a briefcase, and then give us a faint nod as he walked out of the room. Our eyes were glued to his backside--and, even in those baggy pants, we could see the outlines of what must have been a magnificent butt whose muscles rippled as he strode away. I think I actually salivated when I first saw that.
Don't get me wrong: I'm no nympho. But I just couldn't help having all kinds of fantasies about what Miles might do to me if he ever wrapped his arms around me. He could probably pick me up with one hand. I wouldn't have minded if he threw me over his shoulder like a caveman and carried me away, whacking my bottom as he went along.
And yes, I'll admit it: I thought of all this on more than one night when I was lying in bed alone, in the crummy little rooming house I was living in--a minimal improvement over the freshman dorm I'd occupied the year before, with the most irritating roommate you could possibly imagine.
I'd be there on the lumpy bed, wearing only my nightgown--and I'd raise the nightgown up to my waist, exposing my pubic area (but of course there was no one to see it except me). And, as I dreamed all kinds of dreams about this transcendently lovely man (yes, he was one of those few males who could be called beautiful), I'd let my hand drift down to my delta. I'd first tickle the rather sparse hairs I had there, then I'd pry open my labia--which were already wet just from my naughty thoughts--and start stroking them, inside and out. All the while I'd think about how Miles would make love to me: I'm sure he'd be the perfect gentleman, but at the same time he'd be quietly determined and forceful. There would be absolutely no doubt who was in charge! As I then began using one finger to rub my swelling clitoris up and down, I'd imagine how he'd be doing exactly the same thing: with the vast experience he no doubt had at stimulating women, he'd make sure to get his partner all hot and bothered before plunging into her with his big fat cock. I would then stick two or even three fingers into myself, feebly duplicating what it might feel like to have his organ plow into me.
And, of course, it wouldn't take long to give myself an orgasm. I'm actually kind of noisy when I come, and the only nice thing about this rooming house was that I could moan and groan and whimper and even scream as my climax overwhelmed me, instead of having to keep quiet as I played with myself with my stupid freshman roommate sleeping across the room from me. (Even so, I'm sure she knew what I'd been doing: she'd give me funny looks that said, Gee, girl, you really can't control yourself, can you?)
I'm ankara dansöz escortlar sure the other girls in Miles's class thought and did pretty much the same thing. No one had to say anything; it was written all over our faces. One girl actually started playing with herself just after he stepped out of the room after class one day, until we pulled her hand out of her pants by brute force. "Shame on you, girl!" someone had cried. But she'd just given us this look, as if to say, Oh, come on, you all do it--Miles just has that effect on us, doesn't he?
The big question was: What was anyone going to do about this situation?
Was the guy married? No one knew, but we suspected not: there was no ring on his finger. But one girl, Marcy, said, "That doesn't mean anything. Some guys don't like wearing wedding rings. Anyway, even if Miles is married, he might be keeping his options open--you know what I mean?" I didn't like to think he was--or wanted to be--an adulterer. That would be a real come-down, as far as my impression of this godlike being was concerned. Maybe I was putting him on a pedestal--but I couldn't help it!
None of us girls really knew how we could cuddle up to Miles. I mean, he was a professor and we were lowly undergraduates! We certainly didn't want to get him in trouble--and he'd get into huge trouble if it ever came out that he'd been dallying with students. And then he'd be gone as soon as he arrived! We certainly didn't want that.
So the best we could do was hang out in his office for short periods of time, drinking in his presence and making silly excuses for being there. He was always courteous, but I have a feeling he began to wonder, Why are all these girls circling around me like a bunch of cute vultures?
This sort of thing went on for a while, but finally I--of all people--decided to take matters into my own hands. This was pretty amazing, since I was kind of shy and timid. I'd always been that way, and for years and years any sort of intimacy freaked me out. But I was getting to the point where I just couldn't get Miles Foster out of my head.
The first thing I had to do was to figure out whether he was married. And the only way to do that was to find out where he lived. And that meant that I'd have to follow him to his house or apartment or wherever he lived.
Somehow I managed to learn that his last class on a Friday in October was over at 5 p.m., so I assumed he'd just mosey on home after that. Maybe he'd putter around in his office for a bit, gathering up stuff he might want to take home with him. So I hung around the department around 5--and a little shiver went through me when I saw him striding down the hallway and into his office. He gave me just a tiny little nod, but even that was enough to make me wet. I told you a really had a thing for him!
In a few minutes he came out of his office and began walking out of the building. By this time I'd managed to tuck myself away in an obscure corner so he didn't know I was there. As he began walking on a sidewalk that led to the main part of the campus, I trailed behind him as close as I could without letting him see me. But he seemed fixated on going wherever he was going, looking straight ahead and walking so fast I almost had to trot to keep up with him.
All of a sudden, the sheer stupidity of what I was doing came over me. What if he got into a car and drove off to a house that was miles and miles away? I didn't have a car, and even if I did, I wouldn't have had the skill to follow him like some policeman tracking down a murder suspect.
But, to my immense relief, Miles wasn't heading to the big parking lot on campus, where students, faculty, and staff parked their cars. He was walking home.
I almost fainted when I realized that. Omigod! In a few minutes I might know where this incredible man lived!
He walked along the street where all the frat houses were. I'd heard pretty bad things about the kind of stuff that went on there, and I'd never dared to go to a frat party. But Miles kept on going, and now we were in a nice residential area where a lot of fine old houses stood. Gee, what if he lived in one of these mansion-like houses! But then my heart sank at the thought: if he did live in such a house, he almost certainly had a wife. It would make no sense for a bachelor to occupy a place that was so big (and expensive).
But, amazingly, Miles actually stopped at a big house on a corner lot, opened the little gate of a charming white picket fence that surrounded the property, strode up to the front door of the house, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
This had to be his house! It looked empty, but that could only mean that his wife (if he had one) hadn't come home yet from work. Since it was only a little past 5, it might be more than an hour before she would show up.
So I had to bide my time. I figured I'd get a snack at a nearby coffee shop--although when I got there, I was so nervous and excited that I could elvankent saatlik veren escortlar hardly eat a bite. I decided just to walk around the area, taking in the wonderful tree-lined streets with all their well-tended lawns (the idea of Miles doing yard work in his front or back garden tickled me!) and fairly pricey cars lining the streets or resting in driveways. Somehow I managed to wait until about 7 p.m., and then I headed back to Miles' house.
There were only a few lights on in the two-story structure, but I could see that the living room was empty. And there was only one car in the driveway. That was a good sign, I thought. Married couples, especially those where both the husband and wife worked, often have two cars, don't they? It still amazed me that Miles would be living in this huge house all by himself--unless (and my heart sank at the idea) he had some girlfriend come over every so often, or even live there with him.
My heart was really thumping in my chest. Did I have the guts to go up to the front door and knock? Even if he answered, what would I say? What excuse would I have to invade his privacy like this?
It took me several more walks around the block--which took up close to another hour--before I could summon up the courage to open the gate, just as he had done, and walk up the steps to the front door. By this time it had gotten dark. I raised my hand and knocked on the door.
No answer! I couldn't hear anything going on in the house, even though a few lights were still on here and there. Could he have gone to bed already? It seemed awfully early for that. Maybe he hadn't even heard my knock, since I'd been pretty freaked out about what I was doing and had barely tapped the door with my knuckles. Then I saw that there was an actual doorbell, so with shaking fingers I rang it.
I definitely heard the chimes pealing in the house. And then I heard someone coming down from upstairs.
The door opened. It was Miles.
But he looked... different. He was only wearing a thin robe, and his hair seemed tousled. And he was barefoot. Jeez, did I in fact wake him up from bed? Then I noticed his face was kind of flushed, and another, much more horrible thought went through my whirling mind.
What if he has a girl--either a student like me or an actual girlfriend of his own age--upstairs in his bed? What if he'd been pounding her just when I rang the doorbell?
But Miles looked as nervous and scared as I was. He recognized me, but didn't show any surprise at how I'd figured out where he lived. In a hesitant voice he said, "Is that you, Bethany? What can I do for you?"
Just hearing my name pass his lips made my heart flutter. I had to clutch the little railing on the steps leading to the front door as I managed to say, "Um, Professor, I just need some help with an assignment."
That of course was totally bogus, and he must have known it: I wasn't carrying any papers or laptop or anything, so how could I be asking for his help? But he seemed so discombobulated that he took some steps back and let me into the house.
In a daze I wandered into the living room, which was off to the right as you entered. I caught sight of the flight of stairs on the left, leading to the second floor. That's where he had been when he'd answered the doorbell. The living room was sparsely but elegantly furnished, but I didn't have the courage to sit down on a chair or sofa. I just stood there like an idiot in the middle of the room, then turned to face him.
He was really looking very odd! His eyes were wide with some kind of emotion, and I also became convinced that his unusual attire could only mean one thing:
He was naked underneath that robe.
I was now convinced he had some babe upstairs waiting for him to get back into bed with her--and all I wanted to do was to get out of the place and never show my face to him again. I would drop his class and make sure I steered as clear of the History Department as I possibly could.
But then something strange happened. The sash of his robe wasn't tied very tightly, and now it had sort of come loose, letting me see what was clearly a bare chest, with just a thin carpet of cute black hair all over it. But as I looked down to his groin, I saw--
Well, I saw a big, erect cock poking out between the folds of the robe.
I gaped at the sight; and as Miles figured out what I was looking at, he looked down at himself and then grinned sheepishly. But by this time I was gaining a weird sort of confidence--mostly because I didn't really hear anyone upstairs, especially some female voice peremptorily saying, "Miles, what's going on? Will you come back here?"
So, hardly believing I could have been so bold, I came up to him, parted his robe all the way, noticed he was totally naked, and got on my knees and stuck his cock into my mouth.
I tell you, that cock was huge! I'd have to say it was eight or nine inches. When I knelt down and saw etimesgut azeri escortlar it inches from my face, it looked even bigger. It was standing almost straight up, and I had a bit of difficulty getting it into a horizontal position so I could start sucking it.
It tasted fabulous! Well, of course it doesn't really have a taste, but it felt wonderful in my mouth. I licked it and sucked on it and even nuzzled the tip, even as I was getting wetter and wetter doing it. I almost wanted to reach a hand down and stroke myself--but I was determined to give my dreamboat the best blowjob he'd ever had. And I couldn't resist placing one hand on his hard, firm butt while I kept my other hand on the base of his cock. Once I craned my neck and sucked on his balls, making him groan with pleasure. But mostly I just filled my mouth up with his organ.
But this whole episode was getting stranger by the minute. As I gazed up at him, I saw him looking off to the side. Well, that was pretty rude! I mean, I was giving his dick such loving attention, the least he could do was show his appreciation by focusing on me. But then I saw that someone else had filtered into the room.
It was a guy.
He was named Chris (I didn't know his last name), and he was also in the Early American History class that Miles taught. He was short, stocky, and muscular. And the reason I hadn't heard him was because he'd padded down the stairs in his bare feet. You see, he was naked.
I still had Miles's cock in my mouth, but my eyes bugged out at the sight of Chris. Omigod! Was Miles gay? That would certainly account for the absence of a wife or girlfriend! But then something else occurred to me. If he was really gay, why was he getting so much pleasure out of a girl sucking his cock?
Even so, the appearance of this new person made me stop what I was doing and stand up, taking a step back from Miles.
Chris came up to the two of us. Giving Miles a kind of nasty smirk, he said, "I didn't know you swung that way."
"Yes," Miles replied calmly, "I swing both ways."
A wave of relief flooded over me. Well, that was something, wasn't it? Miles Foster was bisexual.
I didn't exactly how how this whole situation would resolve itself, but it was Chris who took matters into his own hands--literally. He approached me and at once began fondling me all over--back, shoulders, breasts, bottom, everywhere he could reach. I squealed at his actions, even though he was not touching my bare flesh, since I still had all my clothes on. Miles scowled at him, saying, "Hey, Chris, don't treat her like that. She's a lady."
How gallant of him! I didn't think of myself as a "lady," but I didn't like being pawed by a classmate without so much as a by-your-leave.
But Chris didn't pay a lot of attention to what Miles said. He replied, "Why don't the three of us have some fun? I've always wanted to get it on with a girl."
Miles looked down at me and said in that heart-stopping baritone voice of his, "Is that something you'd care to try, Bethany?"
I swallowed hard and said, "Um, yes, okay."
Not very decisive! But it was enough for the pair of men standing around me.
With a tender expression on his face, Miles picked me up. No, he didn't throw me over his shoulder like a caveman: he was too gentlemanly for that. He lifted me up and cradled me in his arms as if I was a big kitten, and walked serenely up the stairs, Chris following and looking at me lasciviously.
Miles placed me tenderly on a big king-size bed in one of the upstairs bedroom--clearly the master bedroom where he slept--and then, with his kindly eyes fixed on me, slowly undressed me. He undid the buttons on my blouse and took it off, then removed my skirt. I was wearing nylons, so he carefully peeled them off. Now I had on only a bra and panties, and he gently turned me over, unclasped my bra, pulled down my underwear, and then gathered all my clothes and placed them on a chair.
We were all naked now.
The men got into bed with me. As I lay on my back, they placed themselves on either side of me and each took a breast in his hand, bringing his head down to suck on the nipple. I have to say I have pretty big breasts (32D), and I could tell that these guys--even if they were predominantly gay--found a lot of interest in my boobs. In fact, Chris grabbed my tit with both hands so that the nipple was standing thick and erect, and he actually bit it. Well, maybe he just nibbled, but I could definitely feel his teeth on it. I rested my hands on the back of both their heads, feeling like some sort of primal Earth Goddess nurturing some of her devoted worshippers.
Miles wanted to make sure I was getting pleasure out of the proceedings, so he slipped a hand down my front and fastened it onto my pussy, which was now sopping wet. Somehow he was surprised at that, but he gave my labia and clitoris some vigorous strokes that made me even wetter than before. I felt kind of embarrassed at how his fingers were getting all damp from my juices!
Then the guys turned me onto my side. Miles was in front of me, and Chris was behind me. As Miles rained kisses down on my face and neck and shoulders, I felt Chris reaching for something on the nightstand next to the bed. And then I felt his fingers probing my derrière.
14 Ocak 2022, at 19:08
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