Obsessed with a nerd, my student

I balanced the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I hurried down the third-floor hallway of the humanities building.

“Yes, I understand the budget constraints, Richard, but we can’t keep cutting sections like this. My Advanced Composition class is already at its capacity and—”

Richard’s voice crackled through the speaker, tired and clipped.

“Elena, I’m not the enemy here. The dean wants numbers. If we don’t reduce expenses, we lose another adjunct position next semester. Just… look for creative solutions, okay?”

“Creative solutions,” I muttered under my breath as I pushed open the nearest door. “Sure. I’ll just teach fifty students with no TA and—”

The smell hit me first, i was at the urinals, rasing my head, it came to my view. The men’s restroom. I froze mid-step, my phone still pressed to my ear.

Ethan Hale stood at the far end of the urinal, his back partially turned, his neat button-up shirt tucked into khakis like always. He startled at the sound of my heels and turned just a little too fast.

His hand slipped and for one searing second I saw the thick, heavy length of his cock, the flushed head catching the light. Bigger than I would have expected. Then he yanked his khakis up in panic, closing his zipper in a flash as his face went white.

“Professor Voss—fuck,” he gasped.

He bolted past me, shoulders banging the doorframe hard, and the door slammed shut behind him. I stood there, my phone still in my hand, Richard still talking on the other end.

“Elena? You there?”

I ended the call without answering. My heart hammered against my ribs. sudden heat flooded between my legs.

My clit throbbed. That image, his thick cock, the way it had hung there for that brief moment, burned my eyes. I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the aching pull deep inside me.

*What the hell is wrong with you, Elena? He’s your student. Nineteen and totally an innocent one. You’re his professor.*

I scolded myself the entire way to the ladies’ restroom down the hall. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I leaned against the sink, breathing hard. My reflection stared back at me, flushed cheeks and parted lips. I was already wet, my core throbbing, The image refused to fade.

I slipped into the last urinal stall, the one farthest from the door. My hand trembled as I hiked up my skirt and slid my fingers under my panties. I was soaked. The moment I touched my swollen clit a soft moan escaped me.

I circled it slowly at first, then faster, biting my lip as I pictured Ethan’s cock again. How it would feel in my hand. How it would stretch me open. My fingers moved lower, pushing inside myself, thrusting in the rhythm I imagined he might use.

suddenly I heard soft sounds coming from the teachers’ lounge bathroom next door. A low muffled moan.

The unmistakable wet rhythm of kissing, then a quiet gasp that turned into a breathy “Yes…” The wall between the two bathrooms was thin. I could hear everything. The rustle of clothes. A man’s low groan. The wet slap of bodies moving together.

My fingers moved faster. I leaned my forehead against the cool stall wall, listening as the couple next door grew more frantic. The woman whimpered.

The man grunted softly. I rubbed my clit in tight, desperate circles, thrusting two fingers deep inside myself, matching their rhythm. The ache built fast and sharp. My thighs shook. I came hard, biting down on my free hand to stay quiet, waves of pleasure rolling through me while the sounds of their fucking continued through the wall.

I stayed there for a long moment afterward, breathing raggedly, my panties ruined, skirt still hiked up. Shame washed over me, but it didn’t kill the lingering heat.

I cleaned myself up as best I could, washed my hands, and stepped back into the hallway. My legs felt unsteady. My mind was still spinning with the image of Ethan, the sounds from next door, and the terrifying realization that I wanted more.

As I turned the corner toward my office, I nearly collided with someone coming the other way.

It was Ethan.

He stopped, his eyes widening behind his glasses when he saw me. His cheeks were still faintly pink. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.

I stood there, my heart pounding, wondering if he could tell what I had just done or what I was still thinking about doing.