Oh, Professor!

Timothy Bromhead finally unjammed the lock of his office door, pulled out the key and staggered inside. He closed the door and slumped against it, eyes closed.

"Thank God, another day over with." He muttered.

He made his way across his small office to his desk, and flopped down in his rickety chair. It squeaked in protest as it took his weight. He pulled out his keys and opened his desk drawer. The whiskey bottle was almost empty but he sighed in relief as he poured an inch into his coffee mug and swallowed. St. Cuthbert's School for Girls had a strict no alcohol policy and if that old battleaxe Sister Matilda, the school principal could see him he's be out on his ear.

No biggie. He pondered how his career at the prestigious school had gone from promising to terminal in the space of a few months. Since his wife Lisa left him his heart had gone out of his work, and his work had suffered. He was now barely tolerated by the school administration. The old battleaxe was a formidable and no nonsense woman, but she had a kind soul, and had been able to find sympathy for the bruised and broken man that Lisa Bromhead had left in her wake.

He surveyed his small office solemnly. It was a typical college professor's office. Almost stereotypical. Piles of books and papers covered every available surface. The place hadn't been dusted in ages and had a faint musty odour from the old books, the leather of the old chair and ancient desk blotter, and the general staleness of the attitudes that prevailed in such places as St. Cuthbert's.

Timothy's eyes came to rest on his appointment calendar. He groaned. He had an appointment that afternoon. And worse, it was the last person in the world he wanted to see.

He had been avoiding the new girl since she'd arrived. The school was full of attractive, nubile young women dressed in the traditional Catholic girl's school uniform that seemed to be designed to drive men wild, but he had never looked at any of them in an inappropriate manner. He was the perfect gentleman and scholar. He saw the young women, with their beautiful expressive eyes, fragrant and intoxicating hair, supple bodies and tumultuous hormones as merely his students. Young people who he was charged with educating. And that was it. That is, until Emma Hamilton. She had arrived a week ago and was in two of his classes. She stirred something in him that he thought had been lost forever when his wife left. Throughout the lessons his gaze was continually drawn to her. He found himself stumbling over his words as he addressed the class because he couldn't drag his thoughts away from her. He was a decent man, and he wouldn't allow himself to entertain the ideas that popped into his head whenever he looked at her. He was also a man who had been hurt, and much of his ability to trust, and feel warmth or affection to a woman had been lost.

On two occasions the young Ms. Hamilton had approached him after class. He had stood defensively before her, trying to look her in the eyes and not let his gaze travel down to her chest. She'd prattled on, for what seemed an eternity about how much she enjoyed the class, and so forth and blah blah. He barely heard a word she said. It's not that he didn't appreciate the sentiment, it was just that when she was near him he felt like he was standing in front of a furnace and someone had left the door open. He felt heat travel to his groin and his cock, ever the betrayer would stir uncomfortably against his trousers and his heart beat furiously until finally, she finished whatever it was she was saying, smiled and turned away. He summoned all his will power to not look at her bottom as it wiggled away, but failed.

Then there had been the time she accosted him after school in the hallway. It was deserted as he made his way along it but she'd popped out of nowhere and he was unable to avoid her. She'd smiled at him and told him how fascinating she'd found his lecture that afternoon. There was something in the way she'd looked at him. Her eyes burning into his, and periodically travelling up and down his body. Eyeing him unabashed. Then he had nervously cracked some lame joke and she had giggled and touched his arm. She couldn't possibly be flirting with me, could she? He thought. Then she touched his arm again. Oh God, she is flirting with me! The thought screamed in his head. Practically on the verge of panic he was actually planning to turn and literally run away from the girl, but thankfully she said her goodbyes and sauntered away. Again his eyes would not be torn away from her ample bottom and he silently cursed his weakness.

So he avoided her as best he could. He had been quite successful until she'd made an appointment to see him. He'd planned to weasel out of it by not going back to his office after classes, or get his friend Clifford to take his appointments for the afternoon. But he had forgotten.

The thought occurred that he might be able to slip away still, but at that precise moment there was a knock at the door.

"Damn." He hissed.

He quickly grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table and threw it back in the drawer. Just as he slammed it shut, his door opened and Emma Hamilton poked her head in and said, "Hello professor, may I come in."

"Yes, come in Ms. Hamilton." He croaked.

She smiled, stepped into the room and made her way to the chair opposite his desk. He couldn't help notice that she'd closed the office door and he sighed in dismay. He did not feel comfortable being alone with her.

His eyes surveyed her as she approached him. From her dark curly hair, to her sparkling blue eyes, her ample breasts that jiggled slightly as she walked, her robust hips, her stout and shapely legs. It took him a minute to realise she was standing there, looking at him expectantly. Then he saw the piles of books on the only other chair in the office and suddenly understood.

"Oh let me get those." He blurted, embarrassed that she'd caught him ogling her, and launched himself to his feet. He walked around the desk and scooped up the books so she could sit down. As he towered over her he was painfully aware of how close she was to him. There was that now familiar heat that seemed to engulf him. He looked down at her sheepishly and smiled. She returned the smile, beaming up at him. Completely of their own volition his eyes darted down to the top of her shirt and her cleavage. He couldn't' help notice that her two top buttons were undone and that she wasn't wearing a bra.

He turned away, flushing with embarrassment. He dropped the pile of books on floor and perched himself on the corner of his desk. He snatched a glance at her as she sat down and noticed her pleated, tartan skirt seemed to be shorter than the other girls. She had apparently raised the hemline. A good ways at that. Her legs were exposed high up the thigh as she sat and crossed her legs. He suddenly felt quite foolish in his own deathly unfashionable clothes. His threadbare blazer with it's leather patches on the elbows not only looked as if it had belonged to his grandfather, it actually had. His green corduroys looked politely 1940s. His whole appearance was the epitome of the bumbling English professor. His wispy, sandy coloured hair and thick rimmed glasses only added to the impression of a stuffy and repressed academic.

"Well Ms. Hamilton, what can I do for you?" He managed.

She looked at him for a moment and then, quite unexpectedly said "What is it about those old blazers that's so sexy?"

Oh God, this can't be happening. She was flirting with him again.

She fixed him with a gaze that could have melted stone and for several long seconds he found he was unable to look away. Then he again allowed his eyes to ravish her. Her cute face, and full lips. Her body, plump, voluptuous he supposed was the appropriate word. And her breasts. Oh god her breasts. He could see them straining proudly against the white cotton of her shirt. Her nipples were clearly visible.

Timothy knew what was happening, and what probably would happen if he didn't find some way to put a stop to it.

"Miss Hamilton." He breathed, his voice thick with urgency, or was it lust? "We really shouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what Professor?" She replied and swooped gracefully to her feet, stepping toward him. "We're not doing anything, are we?"

He wanted to move away from her but found his legs had lost all their strength. "Ms. Hamilton, P...Please..."

"Yes Professor?" She cooed, and pressed herself against him. "Oh and call me Emma."

This is it, it's happening! His mind screamed. You're not going to let this happen are you?!

The feeling of the girl's warm, soft body pressing against him was almost too much for him, but with superhuman effort he managed to control himself.

"I know why you're here at St. Cuthbert's, Emma. You were thrown out of your old school."

"Yes Professor. Do you know why?" She breathed, her mouth inches from his ear.

"Yes." He moaned. "Inappropriate contact. Sexual contact."

"That's right. With boys, and girls." This last word was a whisper as she slipped her arms around his neck and began to grind her hips into him. "Some people just have this effect on me, Timothy. It's like I can't control myself. When I want them, I just have to have them. And I want you."

He couldn't believe how bold and brazen she was. It was exciting beyond words.

"Ohhh God, but you're a stu...student." He stammered.

"Well I am eighteen." She replied. "And it's not like I haven't fucked before." Suddenly her hand was massaging his crotch. He felt like the top of his head was about to explode.

"You like that, don't you Professor?"

He put his head back and groaned.

"I'm a bad girl, Professor. I'm a very... bad... girl."

And then he was kissing her. He threw his arms around her, pulled her in tight and kissed her passionately. She responded, her mouth working urgently against his. Her tongue pushed it's way between his lips and slipped into his mouth. His own tongue found hers and they writhed together. His hands were all over her. Running up and down her back, grabbing her butt cheeks and squeezing, kneading, then just holding her by the hips and pulling her into him.

Her own hands were locked behind his neck, pulling him down to her. She pressed her breasts forcefully into his chest and ground her hips into him. As the kissing became more and more passionate, urgent, almost desperate she began to hump her body against him. Her hips thrusting forward, pumping into him. He tore his mouth off hers and gasped as his cock was ground painfully, but blissfully into her. She moaned as his lips found her neck, then her earlobe, taking it into his mouth and biting. Then he slipped his tongue into her ear before kissing around and behind it, then working his way down her neck once more. She squealed in delight and he felt the tempo of her hips increase.

He moaned and clasped both hands to her ass cheeks, then thrust himself forward. He bucked his hips madly into her and she went nearly berserk humping herself against him. They locked their lips together and simply hammered each other.

Timothy could almost feel the heat coming from the girl's pussy and dreamed of plunging his raging cock into her. It had been so long since he'd had sex. Over the years his wife had been more and more cold toward him and he had felt less and less inclined to be a man in their bed. His natural urges had not abated though, they had simply been denied. Now they would be contained no longer. He yearned to throw this incredible, sexy young girl on his desk and make wild and unbridled love to her but his body began to betray him and he felt his orgasm building. He feared he would cum in his pants before he had time.

"Oh no, oh God, no." He moaned.

Emma took this as a sign of denial, not longing. That he was saying no to her. She pulled away from him, an expression of hurt in her smouldering eyes.

"You don't want me? Oh God, Timothy don't tell me you don't want me!" She almost sobbed.

"Oh God Emma, no. I want you more than I've wanted anything in my life. It's just I'm... I'm... "

"Well I'll show you!" Cried Emma. "So you think you can resist me, do you?"

With that she fell to her knees and tore down Timothy's fly. Before he could utter a word she'd released his cock from his conservative, navy blue boxers and slipped it into her mouth.

"Oh my God!" He cried and came dangerously close to toppling off the desk.

Emma took the entire length of his cock into her young mouth and began to slowly, and sensuously suck it.

"Oh Jesus... Jesus Christ!" He moaned.

She worked slowly up and down the shaft. Her mouth never losing the suction. Her cheeks were collapsed inwards, her lips formed a perfect seal on his cock. The effect was immediate. Timothy writhed in pleasure, working his hips around and around. He couldn't help but put a hand on the back of her head and urge her forward more forcefully. She seemed to like this. "Mmmmmmmmm." She moaned.

He looked down at her, her gorgeous blue eyes locked on his. The sight of his cock, glistening from her spit, slipping in and out of her mouth, seemed to unleash something deep inside him and he said "Oh yes, suck it you little SLUT!"

He cringed. It wasn't what he wanted to say at all. He wanted to tell her how much he adored her and how incredibly grateful he was for what she was doing. But the sweet words would not come, all that would come was "Yes suck me. You like that don't ya, you bad girl."

He was terrified of how she would react to this but she seemed to respond, pumping her face back and forth more quickly. With more urgency. She even appeared to be smiling at him, smiling with her eyes at least.

As she began to suck harder and more forcefully her hips began to slowly gyrate. She slipped her hand under her skirt and moaned as her fingers slipped inside her soaking panties. She began to buck her hips, fucking herself on her fingers and Timothy could hear the wet, sucking sounds as her fingers fucked in and out of her sopping hole.

This was all too much for the chaste and wholesome Englishman. His body stiffened as his orgasm gripped him. He realised he was ejaculating into Emma's mouth. Mortified he tried to back away and remove himself from her mouth but she clung to the front of his trousers and pushed her face eagerly into him. She swallowed, noisily.

He collapsed forward onto his knees and took her in his arms. Breathless. Head swimming. Heart thumping.

"Oh God, Emma. That was heaven. Thank you."

She held him, squeezing him tightly. Nestling his face against her breasts.

"You're welcome, baby." She cooed. "You're very welcome."

The next day Timothy Bromhead was a new man. He seemed to buzz with vitality. He tore into his lessons with more vigour than he had in years. Although he enjoyed the day he couldn't wait for it to be over so he could get to his office and meet Emma again. She had asked him if she could come by after classes and he had of course eagerly accepted. He did feel a slight pang of guilt. He didn't buy into the Catholic rhetoric of sins of the flesh, but Emma was a student, and he felt he was betraying some fundamental trust. A responsibility that all teachers had to their students. But how could anything that felt so wonderful, be bad? And Emma was an adult woman who had the right to choose who she had relations with and who she didn't. But try as he might he couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong, and it was most definitely forbidden. If anyone ever found out he'd be history.

As he made his way to his office after classes these thoughts plagued his mind until he rounded the corner and his office door came into view. She was already waiting for him. To Timothy, she appeared as a vision, and all doubt left him. He didn't care if it was wrong or not. He couldn't have cared less if the principal herself had marched up to him then and there and fired him on the spot. Nothing was going to stop him taking that girl in his arms again. Well... if she wanted it, that is. A sudden fear gripped him. What if she didn't? What if she'd come to tell him she didn't want to see him again? But just then she turned and saw him and flashed him a smile that told him all he needed to know.

He approached her awkwardly. As nervous as a teenager on his first date.

"Ms. Hamilton." He said and smiled."

"Professor Bromhead." She smiled back. "I err, need to talk to you about an essay that's due tomorrow, I was hoping you could help me with it. It's driving me absolutely crazy."

"I'd be happy to." He said as he fumbled with his key, then practically bashed the door off it's hinges in his haste to get it open. The both rushed inside and the door had scarcely shut behind them when they fell upon each other like wild animals. He dropped his brief case to the floor and scooped her up in his arms. She thrust herself against him and pushed him back against the door. They kissed. Wildly. It was as if they had been apart for a year, not a day.

Timothy felt he just couldn't get enough of her. He thrust his mouth against hers so their lips ground almost painfully together. Their tongues were wild and alive, swirling around in each other's mouths. His hands were frantically exploring her, groping her. She grunted and thrust herself against him, humping her hips into his own. She lifted one leg and he grabbed it under the knee, his other hand groped for her ass, slipped under her skirt and roughly grabbed her cheek. Then he hauled her into him with all his might. She moaned as his throbbing cock pressed against her.

They began to hump wildly. Their lips parted and they simply looked into each other's eyes as they fucked frantically into each other.

She began to grunt. Deep, throaty, lust filled, "Uh... uh... uh... uh!"

He panted and moaned. "You're a very bad girl, M... Ms. Hamilton. A very... bad... g... girl."

She grinned at him, then put her lips to his chin but instead of a kiss delivered a painful bite.

"Oh God yes!" He cried.

He reached his hand around and under her and his fingers found her panties soaked though with her juices. He slipped two fingers under the thin fabric and probed her pussy. She was so hot there. His fingers eagerly sought her opening and slipped smoothly inside.

"Oh God, Timothy. Fuck me! Fuck me Professor!"

"You like that, do you?" He said as he began to pump her.

"Yes, yes!" She panted. "Fuck my pussy. Fuck my little hole." He obliged, and banged away at her. She bucked and writhed and thrust her hips onto his hand, desperate to get his fingers deeper into her. He fingered her as best he could but his awkward position prevented him from getting them in deep. She almost sobbed with frustration.

He pulled his fingers out of her and quickly moved around behind her. He pushed her, face first up against the door, lifted her skirt and thrust his hand between her thighs. She moaned and shoved her backside out at him. He began to rub her through her soaking panties and her thighs clamped together on his hand.

He thrust his knee between hers and managed to pry her thighs apart. Then pulled her panties to one side and dove his fingers in once more.

She stiffened as two fingers slipped all the way into her. He began to fuck her with them, madly pounding them in and out. She moaned again from the pleasure of his fingers mercilessly reaming her. Then he pulled them half the way out and rubbed the front wall of her pussy right on her g-spot, and her orgasm came smashing down on her like a tidal wave.

"Ohhhhh God!" She cried. Timothy was dimly aware that someone outside in the corridor may very well have heard that but he couldn't care less. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers but he continued to rub her. Her juices were flowing out of her, trickling down her legs. She slumped forward against the door and fought to remain on her feet. Her whole body shook and her legs turned to jelly.