"Sit on the desk," he growled.

I obeyed, not worrying about my dress hiking up. I had a feeling about what this meeting really was about, so I'd opted not to wear any undergarments. Past me, you're a fucking genius!

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, moved his boxers around, and slowly worked his cock from the cloth binds holding it down. My suspicions were right, his package was worth every missed question, every failed assignment; just knowing his cock was as thick as I'd imagined was worth the embarrassment.

"You're staring again."

"You are too, professor," I said, untying the strings that keep my dress on my shoulders. As I moved my hands back down, the fabric fell from my body and bunched around my waist.

"What fantasies did you dream about," he asked. His hand was around his thick cock, slowly stroking its shaft, and his eyes were flitting between me and my tits.

"Well," I traced a finger up my dress and up to my nipples. "I dreamt of you gently at first, like us going to dinner or a movie. Then they got much, much dirtier."

"How dirty?" He tantalizingly stroked his cock.

"Remember Wordsworth? I was dreaming of you finding me in the library and fucking me in a study room." I began pinching and kneading my nipples and breasts, moaning gently under my breath between sentences. "I was just 'cumming' when you so rudely interrupted me, Professor."

"You were supposed to be paying attention. Spread your legs."

I obeyed immediately and slowly hiked my dress up, displaying my cunt for my professor.

"Rub your clit, darling." He was leaning back, eager to enjoy the view.

I obliged, moaning a little louder, "yes, Professor."

He breathed through his teeth. "Now slap it. You weren't focused during my classes."

"It was your fault," I groaned, twitching as my pussy grew wetter.

"Don't question your professor. Do it," he commanded.

I don't know what it was about his voice, but I obliged, yelping as I did. "Y-yes, Professor," I whimpered.

His cock dripped precum. His hand made quiet squelch--squelch--squelch as his strong hands slowly stroked his fat cock.

"Again," he growled.

Watching this, something inside me grew primal. I slapped my cunt again, and frantically went back to rubbing my clit. My tits shook with every moan and stroke.

He suddenly yanked his pants off, kicking them into the corner, and stood between my legs, staring at my tits. With his free hand, he reached up and started to stroke my hardening nipples. I arched my back to present them for my professor, leaning back on one hand.

"Did I tell you to stop slapping?" He leaned over and took the soft flesh of my breast into his mouth. His beard tickled my areolas, to which I moaned.

I tried to obey his slapping order, frantically rubbing my clit and slapping my cunt every few seconds, but I'd grown too horny--too primal--to stop rubbing now.

Suddenly, I yelped - his teeth pulled my nipple, and as he let go, he growled, "God, how badly I wanted this..."

Still rubbing my clit, I whimpered, "Fuck--fuck me--professor--please!"