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2 Weeks Later
Hudson College is nothing at all like Harvard University. First of all, the classes are much smaller. I teach one in the morning and then return to the same classroom to teach another one that afternoon. It’s just a regular sized room; Hudson doesn’t even have a conference hall and I suppose one isn’t needed since the classes aren’t even that big.
I sit down to look at my lesson plan but I figure I won’t need to. Another thing that’s different is that these classes are a lot less formal. No one is rushing to impress me like the students always did at Harvard. I have to admit that’s refreshing.
Almost as refreshing as being with Sarah two weeks ago.
Fuck.
I wish I could get her out of my head. But as it is, my head doesn’t want to think about anything but her. My cock doesn’t want to get hard at the thought of anyone else either.
I wish I had gotten her last name, or found out anything about her. I usually make it a policy not to do such things, lest I express too much interest and make the girl think I actually want to see her again. But this time, for the first time ever, I actually want to see her again.
It's a good thing I don’t know who she is then. I’d be in way too deep. It has to be for the best, then, that we only saw each other once. All I have to do is fuck someone else and get her out of my system. Except, I can’t seem to do that. My body and mind aren’t in sync. I’ve never been knocked so far off my game and I don’t know what to do about it.
I still have five minutes before the next class starts, and no one is here yet. I decide to go to the bathroom and see if I can’t get my cock to work just by thinking about Sarah. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with it.
I go shut myself in a stall and thinking about her green eyes and her eager mouth. Her wet pussy and the way it dripped into my hand and onto my cock as she came over and over again. It works— I start getting hard. But the second I reach down to touch myself, it’s over.
It’s like my cock only wants Sarah to touch it— not even me. Holy shit. I’m fucked.
I wash my hands and then go back to the class. Most of the students are already seated. That’s another difference— these kids are much more respectful, and prompt.
I walk up to the podium when I catch a glimpse of the girl in the third row and nearly fall over.
Holy fuck. It’s Sarah Grace. The very girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. She’s sitting very prim and proper- like in the second row, with her hair done up in a braid, and wearing the same modest clothes as all the other girls here are.
I can’t even believe it. And apparently, neither can she, because her mouth drops straight open when she sees me. But then she closes it again quickly and looks around, as if to say, please don’t out me.
I look at her with wide eyes, trying to signal, don’t worry, I won’t.
If she only knew how much trouble I could be in if they found out I had fucked one of my students— even before I knew she would be my student— I’d be fucking toast. I start to think I must be hallucinating. My body must have wanted to be with her again so badly that my mind was imagining she was here.
How could a girl from a Christian college in a small town have been the one to sell me her virginity at a club for billionaires in New York City? I consider it and then realize there’s a very good chance, especially since she was a virgin and a nervous, rather awkward one at that.
Just thinking about that night makes me cock spring up into action. It has found the girl of its dreams, and it wants more. It’s not getting more though, because it never gets a taste of the same girl twice. Nor does it usually even want to go back for seconds, since there are so many variety of flavors in the world. But it’s been betraying me lately, just like my thoughts.
Fuck.
I stand behind the podium while I introduce myself, so that no one notices my fucking hard on. I feel younger than some of the kids here, trying to hide this monster.
“My name, as some of you know, is Professor Masters,” I announce. “And I’ll be teaching your business class this semester.”
Everyone’s eyes go wide with recognition, including Sarah’s. She looks genuinely surprised to realize that the guy she sold her virginity to is the inventor of the computer chips for automated cars. I guess these sheltered kids probably don’t watch TV or read tabloids all that often.
“Your professor from last year told me you are all working on projects,” I announce. “Let’s hear what they are.”
It’s an easy way for me to teach the first day of class. I just have to listen and figure out which ones of these kids are A students and which ones are C- students— rarely does a school let me give much lower of a grade than that, since they don’t want to lose tuition money— and which ones fall in between. This, in turn, makes grading a whole lot easier in the future.
But when it’s Sarah’s turn, I realized I just fucked the best student in my entire class.
“My project is a business plan and proposal for my business idea,” she says, with a mixture of shyness and pride. “My market research shows a great portion of couples in the New York City area who have no children but who also have good jobs and high incomes. A lot of these couples have pets, and they spend significant amounts of money on them. They also have values aligned with preserving the environment, and believe that recycling is important. Therefore, my business idea is a pet toy company that recycles common household items into toys for pets to play with, and even houses and crates and climbing activities for them to play with them in and on.”
She curtsies a bit and then returns to her seat. I have to get back behind the podium because she just gave me a major hard on.
“Very nice, Sarah,” I tell her. I try to be professional and diplomatic. “Next?”
I can see her looking at me, though, and it’s all I can do not to look at her for the rest of the class. I can’t even glance in her direction or I’ll betray my feelings for everyone to see, and cause both of us problems, considering this is a school where students can’t even date each other, let alone their professors.
As class draws to an end, I wonder how I’m going to go all semester without taking Sarah into my arms and fucking her again. I begin to realize another thing that’s different here than at Harvard— there’s a girl in my class that I’ve been with and that I want to be with again.