Eros University Chapter 2: The Blonde Seductress - Sex Stories

Eros University Chapter 2: The Blonde Seductress

... elective; as in, it really didn't have to coincide with my major: I could take Home Ec. for all it mattered. The room was filling up: it was a much larger class than I had anticipated. The professor walked in and began the lesson right on time. "My name is Professor McAlister," he said, and went on to speak the usual. Course content, what's required of us, the texts.... It took me a while but I realized that many of the girls were talking between themselves as they eyed the professor. I looked all around the room and found them smiling and giggling in the manner of excited teens. Actually, it was very similar to the way the boys were reacting back in English class to the beautiful Professor York. Maybe they think he's handsome? I asked myself, looking around at the girls' smiling faces. Well I can't tell; but he does seem like a cool guy. During his lecture, Mr. McAlister made some witty jokes that got the whole class laughing—he seemed to be a very approachable person. He also seemed very young for his profession.... Some minutes into the lecture a student came in and sat on one of the empty chairs beside me. He looked to be of South Asian origin, as I guessed by his dark, chocolate-coloured skin. Half an hour passed by as we sat next to each other listening to the professor lecture. I should probably talk to him, I thought, looking at him from the corner of my eyes (he seemed to be doing the same thing). Both of us sat with our chins propped on our desks, looking equally ...

... bored. "`ey, mate," he said without turning to look at me. I was a bit surprised at his British accent. "`ave ya noticed all the girls eyeing up the professor?" I chuckled. "Yeah; they've been doing it since I got here." "Really?" he asked, "Well I don't give a bloody `ell about the male professors, but 'ave you noticed the women?" "Have I?" I said with a laugh. "They're gorgeous!" Finally he turned to look at me. He was grinning, and his white teeth stood out against his dark skin. "Name's Naipaul, mate. And you are?" "Enyo," I replied, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you." "Pleasure," he said. "So, Naipaul, whereabouts are you from?" "Can't ya guess?" he asked with a grin. "Well," I ventured, tapping my chin, "I'd say born in England but of Indian heritage." "Right on the mark," replied the smiling Naipaul. We quickly become friends and I learned that Naipaul had also been set on going to a university in England but had come over when the letter arrived. Quite eccentric, Naipaul possessed that famous British charm and wit, as well as his own odd quirks. We talked about the girls, their skimpy uniforms, our hometowns, and compared time-tables. "Alright!" Naipaul exclaimed, "We `ave more than one class together." Professor McAlister finished his lecture early, ending with, "Remember, to pass this class you will need to keep up with the readings and homework, or just slip me a few hundred dollar bills with each assignment!" The class broke into laughter. One of the guys at the ...