First Year Uni - Sex Stories

First Year Uni

You were still in high school the first time I saw you. In a group of students touring the university at which I teach.

You were pretty and leggy, sure, but that wasn't it. It was the way you contrasted yourself. The girlish grins, the pouty lips. The modest outfit, the sway of your hips. The bubbly laugh, the direct eyes.

Innocent, but aware.

Next school year, there you were again on orientation day. Your hair was a little longer, you were a little more tan.

I was pleased you had chosen my university, though I couldn't explain why. I was even more pleased when I realized we seemed to travel similar paths around campus. I'd see you a few times a week, and I'd watch you with your friends. When I watched you, you stirred me.

Without exactly meaning to, I started paying attention to whether I saw you with boys.

I didn't. For some reason this pleased me.

Second semester, you walked into my Intro to American Lit class. By now, also without exactly meaning to, I had figured out you were going for sports science. My class was a basic prerequisite, though, and there you were. I was happy. Proud, even, although that made little sense.

That first day, you sat in the second row and took off your jacket. You wore a pink v-neck sweater. When you leaned forward to get your notebook out of your bag on the floor, I watched the shadow of your cleavage.

You straightened up and we caught each other's eyes. I smiled. You gave half a wave.

That semester, I made ...

... sure you had everything you needed. Lecture notes. Help with papers. Office hours if you wanted them.

I was always professional, but made sure you knew you had my attention.

You were always innocent, but aware.

I'd catch you looking, though, in class and when we passed each other on campus. We'd find each other's eyes and hold them. A smile. Half a wave. A wink.

We weren't overtly bold, but we weren't shy.

By the time the school year was winding down, I'd admitted to myself that I would miss your little thrills.

The week before finals, you stopped by my office and asked if I could help you prepare. Of course I could. I offered you a chair, then texted my buddy that I wouldn't be able to get beers after all. I sat down next to you and your notes, closer than I needed to be.

You brushed against me once, twice, then let your weight settle against me. It only took a minute to realize you didn't really need my help, but we both were happy to spend the hour pretending.

Before you left you handed me a small box. You called me "Sir" when you thanked me for all my help during the semester. Our fingers touched and neither of us moved them for too long. I don't know what it felt like for you, but for me it was electric. Then you said goodbye. Half a wave. I winked.

I closed the door behind you, leaned against it and opened the box.

Inside was a pair of your panties.

I lifted them out. They were damp. The crotch was creamy. I put them to my face and ...