Professor Student Erotica Novels & Stories

I could feel him deep into my hilt. I was so wet that it made it so easy for him to reach the deepest of me. “You have been so bad. So fucking annoying.” He said, grabbing my waist tight and firm, his nails digging into my skin. And me, I was trying not to scream my lungs off. Or to call a crowd that shouldn’t ever see this. A professor and his student, fucking in the lecture hall. “Always wearing skimpy clothes to my class.” He kept hammering my inside, as if he wanted to rearrange my organs.

The one no one crossed. My knees nearly gave out, a cold chill sliding down my spine as the realization settled in. And I had spent the night with him. My professor.

Heat pooled between my thighs. God, he looked untouchable. Dangerous. Mine. I shut my eyes, and the fantasy slammed into me full-force. I was no longer in my room. I was Amara. His hand was wrapped around my throat, pressing me back against the wall. His breath scorched my ear, his voice low and commanding. His hips slammed into me, again and again, ruthless, merciless. “Professor…” The word escaped my lips like a prayer. My hand slid down, tugging my panties aside. I spread my legs wider, sinking two fingers inside my slick folds. A guttural moan left my throat as my back arched against the mattress. The wet sounds filled my room, obscene and desperate.

“It’s just dinner. With your professor. Who you’ve already slept with. Totally normal.” I nearly tripped on my way out the door.

“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.”

“This is private. This has nothing to do with my teaching.” Dean Hargrove leaned forward. “Be that as it may, Professor, the optics are catastrophic. A respected literature professor secretly paying a student thousands of dollars to perform sexual acts on camera? And then placing that same student on academic probation when he enrolls in your class? It looks like retaliation. Or grooming. Or both.” My green eyes widened in horror. “That’s not — I didn’t know he was my student when—” “You admit it’s you?” the other board member cut in.

What I saw made my cock harden instantly. Professor Jonathan Hale, respected, married, always so composed, had one of his students bent over his desk. Her skirt was shoved up around her waist, blouse open, breasts pressed against the wood. He was behind her, pants around his ankles, pounding into her with deep, powerful strokes. Her moans were desperate, muffled against her arm. “Fuck, Professor… harder,” she whimpered. He spanked her ass hard, the sound sharp. “Take it, Evelyn. Take your professor’s cock like the dirty little student you are.”

“Because, well, why not? It’s not the first time a student has fucked her professor.” I got chills from what she just said. Instantaneously, I picture Julian’s body looking absolutely luscious, wearing only a T-shirt. And I’ve always thought men looked sexier in sweatpants. Now, imagine ripping off all that... Nope, nope. That’s not something I should be thinking. That’s totally obscene. “Stop it. I still have shame in my body. It’s not okay to cheat back. Kristoff has yet to explain himself.” “Screw Kristoff. He’s a scumbag.”

"Professor—" "Third problem." His fingers left me abruptly, and I whined at the loss. The sound of his belt unbuckling made my stomach flip. "You’re impatient." The zipper followed, the rustle of fabric. Then, thud. Something heavy landed on the desk beside my head. A book. "The Eros Discipline." His voice was a smirk. "Ever read it?" I shook my head, my cheeks flaming. "Pity." His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back so I could see the cover—a woman bound in ropes, her body arched in submission. "It’s about a professor who re-educates his student. Sound familiar?"

After several minutes, he pulled me out from under the desk and bent me over it, flipping my short skirt up and ripping my panties aside. “Time for the real extra credit,” he growled. He slammed into my soaked pussy in one powerful thrust, burying every inch. I moaned loudly as he stretched me wide. Professor Blackwood started fucking me hard and deep, the desk shaking with every brutal stroke. “Such a tight, slutty student cunt,” he snarled, one hand wrapping around my throat while the other slapped my ass. “Failing on purpose just so you could get fucked by your professor, weren’t you?”