Novel & Cerita Professor Erotica

Seriously, what is happening to me? He turned around and walked to the whiteboard. He started writing on it after picking up the marker. I moved my head down. I don't want to look at him. He is making me crazy. "Oh, my god, Inaya. Our English professor is so hot." Anu whispered in my ear. "You can date him. I'm giving you the green signal." I glared at him instantly. She is saying nonsense. "What? Don't you find him hot?" She asked, raising her brows in shock. I think she has lost her mind. He is indeed hot but that doesn't mean I'll date my professor.

“Next time you show up for my class, make sure to be on time. She turns, rotating gracefully as if standing on a turntable. Standing in impossibly tall spiked heels, her leather and tweed pantsuit strains to cover her full, curvy figure. A bit of red peeks out of her collar in the form of a large bow, matching the color of her full, red lips. When our eyes meet, my pens clatter onto the floor, rolling away from me as my jaw drops open. Those gray-green eyes. I’d know those eyes anywhere, they've been haunting my dreams for the last three weeks. “You!” My mystery seductress, the one who took my virginity, is my professor.

Fingers, tongue, cock, every inch that's what is left. His lecture didn't go smoothly as usual, slides blurring as his eyes traced my cleavage, breathing shallow. "Precisely. The... release." The pointer shook slightly as I uncrossed legs deliberately, flashing garter. I watched satisfied as he gasped, audible. The whole class began to notice his uneasiness, my phone vibrated. *Mia: GO GET DADDY PROF. Film creampie!* “Class's over.” Prof Will's voice rang across the hall.

“About how the most intense pleasure often comes from what we’re told we can’t have. The forbidden. The risky. The wrong.” Professor Kelvin swallowed visibly. His hands gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles whitening. “This conversation is crossing a line, Mia. You’re my student.” “Am I?” I uncrossed my legs, letting them part just enough for the cool office air to brush against my bare, already damp pussy. I knew he could see the glistening evidence of my arousal if he looked down. “Or am I just a woman who wants her professor to teach her something real?”

One hand reaches around and rubs my swollen clit in tight, relentless circles while the other tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. "Look at you," he growls against my ear. "Bent over your own desk like a cheap whore. Tits out, skirt around your waist, getting fucked by your student while people walk past the door. Does that make you wetter, Professor? Does knowing you could get caught at any second make this cunt even tighter?" "Yes," I sob, shame and pleasure twisting together in my gut. "It's so filthy... I shouldn't want this... but I do. God, I want it so much."

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.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, locking it. Professor Hale sat behind his large oak desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, looking every bit the brilliant but dangerously attractive 38-year-old literature professor. His sharp jaw, dark hair with a touch of silver at the temples, and intense green eyes had haunted my fantasies since the first day of his Advanced Erotic Literature seminar. “You’re late,” he said, leaning back in his chair, eyes raking over my body. I was wearing a short plaid skirt, white blouse tied at the waist, and thigh-high stockings, exactly what he had described in his last email.

“Marcus… please don’t stop. Fuck me harder.” Marcus maintained that slow, powerful rhythm, each thrust deliberate and possessive. “Tell Dr. Harlan how much you love being our shared slut.” “I love it,” I gasped, my voice breaking with every deep stroke. “I love being your shared slut. I love my students using me like this.” Dr. Harlan was stroking himself faster now, breathing heavily as he watched Marcus fuck me in such an exposed, degrading position. “Please, Marcus,” I begged shamelessly. “Fuck me. Fill me up. I’m your professor but I’m also your whore.”

His big hands yanked my top up, sucking hard on my tits while his fingers shoved my skirt up and found me dripping wet. “Fuck professor,” I moaned as he dropped to his knees, throwing one of my legs over his shoulder. His talented tongue dove straight into my soaked folds, licking broad strokes over my clit before pushing inside me. Two thick fingers curled deep, stroking that perfect spot while he sucked my swollen nub. I gripped his hair, grinding against his face. “Eat your student’s cunt, Professor. I’m so close.” The door creaked open behind us. “Oh my god!” a high pitched, familiar voice gasped.

Students passed me in the hallway, none the wiser that their respected Literature Professor had just used me like a cheap campus whore. That night, I lay in bed with my fingers buried in my cum-filled pussy, replaying every filthy moment. I had gotten exactly what I wanted — and so much more. Professor Ethan Hayes owned me now, and I couldn’t wait for him to use his personal fucktoy again and again. Our forbidden game had only just begun.