Mandy's Continuing Education - Sex Stories

Mandy's Continuing Education

... mouth fell open. Honestly, I think the instructor looked like Leif Ericson the Viking must have. I don't know how old Mr. Sanderson really is -- his skin seems kind of weathered, like he's spent too long in the sun, tanned, with some freckles and lines especially around his eyes and mouth. He has shaggy hair, down to his collar and it's that bright coppery red color you can't get from a bottle. His full beard is graying a little but his eyes are the brightest, ice blue I've ever seen. He stands about 6'2" or 6'3" and seems really muscular under the academic tweeds and bow tie.

I don't know what, specifically, it is about him -- his gravelly voice, or the way he gestures with his long fingered hands...I just don't know. I only know that I want him. I want his face buried between my thighs. I want to know what his beard feels like against the smooth skin of my pussy. I want his long fingers embedded deep inside my cunt and ass and...well, you get the idea.

I spent some face time chatting with Mr. R about how I felt and he gave me some ideas and suggestions, and told me to definitely keep him posted on my progress. I'd been spending my class time sitting down in one of the first two rows of the stadium seating. I'd wear either low cut or sheer or deeply unbuttoned shirts in hopes of drawing attention. Sir and I discussed it and he suggested going braless but I reminded him of my breasts tendency to leak milk when I get excited and aroused and I was a little concerned about ...

... the resultant wet spots. He made some alternate suggestions and as a result the next class found me sitting near the top row of students.

While I am still wearing a silky, low cut top, I'm also wearing a short, flared skirt with no panties. As I sit at my desk listening and taking notes my legs are relaxed and spread loosely in front of me and my skirt rides up on my thighs. I slouch back in my seat, easing my hips forward to the edge of the chair. It isn't the most comfortable position on the hard fiberglass so I fidget a bit. A week goes by, and then a second without any result other than Mr. Sanderson wearing his glasses more often while lecturing. By week three I'm starting to feel particularly restless, not to mention horny and deprived. During class I take a look around to make certain no one is close by or looking my way and I sneak one hand into my lap and under the hem of my skirt. Midway through a particularly juicy fantasy involving both Sir and the professor while my Daddy watches and fucks Ali I hear a voice boom out.

"Ms. Carmichael, see me after class!"

Heads turn to look my way and I hastily straighten and return my errant hand to my desktop, blushing. The rest of the class I try to pay attention to the lesson, taking occasional notes and doodling abstract penises in the margins of my notebook. At the end of class I wait as everyone files out, many glancing surreptitiously my way, before heading to the front. I stand patiently and quietly to one side ...