Erotic Stories Professor Novels & Stories

The sudden control took my breath away entirely. "You think you can just walk in here and distract me?" he murmured. He leaned in close, his face just inches from mine. "You think because I touch you in the dark, you get to break the rules in the light?" "Adrian..." "Professor," he corrected sharply. "You call me Professor when you are in this building." My stomach flipped violently. The taboo thrill of his words made a heavy, wet heat pool instantly between my legs. "Professor," I breathed.

But she was still striking enough to inspire many a love letter from the disillusioned, tortured writers who flocked her English 101 lecture. For a Literature professor, whose specialty is romantic poetry, there was nothing remotely soft and romantic about Erica. She always had a pained expression on her face, as if being happy would suck the very life out of her. "It's not Simon's," Eden said and held her gaze challengingly. But it's her father who charged into the battlefield first with all his accusations.

The way he said dripping made my clit throb. I raised my hand again before I could stop myself. “So in your opinion Professor what separates the literary fantasy from something that could actually happen? Say right here in this room. Would the spark feel the same if the professor looked at a student like he wanted to bend her over the desk after class?” The room went dead quiet for a second then a few nervous laughs broke out. Marcus’s gaze snapped back to me sharp and intense. He stepped closer until he was only a few feet from my seat. I could smell his cologne something woodsy and masculine that made my mouth water.

Shanon looked at Anthony smugly. “You'll be lonely without me. No one is going to give you a Christmas Eve blow job.” "Good grief. Since when did you become so naughty, huh? You used to be very innocent and didn't know anything about sex." “Yeah, thanks to professor Anthony Bruce who has been a great mentor and bed partner over the years. Don't I learn quickly?” “Unbelievable, yes. In fact, you are one of my students who absorbs my lessons quickly." Shanon cleared her throat loudly. “One of your students? How many women have you taught to satisfy their partners in bed?!”

I knew that I would obey her like the law until the end of my life. She was my queen, my universe, my world, and my everything. I didn't know what would happen to me if she ever left me, but I think I might go insane. We may have started our relationship in a forbidden way and ended up in pain, but this time, I'll do my best to make sure that our new beginning will end up in euphoria. I am Dashiel Davin Carter, the Psychopath Professor of Marra, and I am her Psychopath Lover. And now, I could hereby say that the class has officially dismissed.

His face was flushed and he was almost breathless. “Class,” I answered, watching impatiently as he tried to catch his breath. “What's wrong with you?” “Class? You don't have a class to teach today,” he pointed out, frowning. “Yeah. Milgram gave me her period to use. What do you want? I'm heading home now.” “No,” he said, then he shut the door and moved closer to me. “Have you heard the rumors going around?” “What rumors?” “I overheard two girls talking about a professor having an affair with a student and your name was mentioned,” he explained, looking at me as if he believed what he had heard.

“Your pussy is such a slut, little one.” “Yes. Yes.” I let out, my hips squirming as I cling to him. My professor. “So…slimy with juices. My fingers ain’t even inside yet.” He says, my face flushing red as my hunger grows. Please, put it in. Please, I bite the inside of my mouth at his next words. “Tell me. Little one. How many fingers do you want inside you?” My heart thrashes as I spit out. “Two. Please give me…two, professor.”

Making sure I nibbled on his lips. It had started innocently enough. I was a 21-year-old literature major with a crush on my 46-year-old professor that had grown into something much more dangerous. Professor Harden was everything I shouldn’t want. He was married, but he claimed he was separated with his wife. He was powerful, and completely off-limits. But the way he looked at me during lectures… the way his voice dropped when he said my name… I couldn’t resist it. It started with “extra credit” sessions in his office. Then late-night meetings. Then the first time he bent me over his desk and fucked me while the rest of the campus slept.

When I was bored and restless, it somehow made everything better. He, too, shared stories about his past. Back in college, he had flings with older women, including one of his professors. As he described their escapades, I could feel my body gradually heating up. And I knew he noticed. I could tell he was fully aware that his stories were turning me on, but he just let me simmer.

Ericson said didn't make much sense so he took a bold step and probed further. “What... What is it on that phone?” Harold stammered. “I doubt you both are eighteen so I can't show you.” The professor said looking from one face to another as he slid Trisha's phone back into his pocket. After roughly two ticks from the wall clock hung above meaning two seconds had passed, Prof. Ericson brought it out again. “On second thoughts,” he started, “I don't really care about your age. See.” He made a few swipes on Trisha's phone and he showed the video of Mrs. Perry and the dwarf, supposedly Prof. Ericson's own assistant, copulating.