"Kate's Panties for the Teacher" by HeyAll
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Twitter & Instagram: @heyallstories
From the perspective of three women who explore love, lust, and the depths of their hearts. From the office to the classroom, to the church of pussy.
There are few things in this world that are perfect. I'm sitting in my office looking at a self-portrait photograph of Kate naked, wearing white stockings. In the photograph, she's in a bedroom laying on the floor, but her legs are propped on the bed. Her hair is splayed across the carpet. Her body is slender, nipples pink, and there's a patch of pubic hair that needs to be trimmed. The other photo shows Kate sitting naked in a kitchen, barefoot with her hair tied in a bun, while reading a book. One leg is crossed and the sun shines down on her. Perfect self-photographs, I think to myself. A faculty member found these pictures on the desk of Professor Behzadi, hidden beneath a stack of books, and brought the pictures to me. Kate sits in my office, a stark contrast to her nude photographs. She's a buttoned-down girl who looks sharp in her academic uniform. Her transcript is on my desk and I'm impressed by her grades and extracurricular achievements. Not quite top of her class, but close. Nonetheless a hard and disciplined worker. "My intention is to avoid a public scandal," I say. "A scandal would tarnish the stellar reputation of this institution. So let's go over this. Then I'll decide how to proceed." "Am I going to be expelled?" "That's what I'm trying to figure out. If I follow protocol, then yes, expulsion proceedings will begin. We have a strict policy against moral transgressions. But perhaps we can avoid that and handle this situation discreetly." She keeps a straight face. "Thank you." "Were you coerced in any form? Something like that would help your case." "No," she says. "Whatever you decide, do not blame Professor Behzadi for anything. This was entirely my fault. I swear." "Kate, please understand, Professor Behzadi's tenure will be terminated either way. I'm trying to help you. Or would you rather your parents find out?" These words sting her, but she tries not to flinch. Most students would be on the verge of a breakdown, but Kate is stronger than the delicate flower she appears to be. It's rare to find a student that's both academically gifted and mentally tough in the face of ruin. I also have to admire Kate for protecting her teacher. Most students fold and say whatever necessary to survive in my office. This private university has great prestige. No one wants to leave. No one wants to disappoint their parents. "Do not blame Professor Behzadi," she says. "If you agree that she coerced you, then we can skip a hearing. I can talk to her, she can resign with dignity and avoid public shame." Kate shakes her head. "No, I won't do that. Because it's not true." The reality is, I have little interest in expelling the student and firing Professor Behzadi because both situations require due process. Being a religious institution, having a sex scandal would likely make national headlines. Enrollment and fundraising would take a massive hit. Kate is a smart girl, she probably knows this. I switch strategy and open her file. "Okay, fine," I say. "We'll go over things point by point. First, I want clarity on the main controversy. Are you in a sexual relationship with Professor Behzadi?" Kate pauses for a moment. "Will my answer be used against us?" Smart girl. "Great question. How about this; everything discussed in my office will remain confidential. I won't repeat this to anyone. I won't use it against either of you in a potential hearing. I'm just trying to find a diplomatic solution. Sound good?" "Yes, thank you." "Now let me repeat," I say. "Are you in a sexual relationship with Professor Behzadi?" "Yes." I'm gobsmacked by her admission because I wasn't fully sure if this was the case. What makes this shocking is that Kate is such a pure-hearted young woman with a wholesome demeanor and booksmart sensibilities. Of course, young women have a strong interest in sex (as with anyone else), but for her to admit doing this with her professor is jarring. Professor Behzadi, on the other hand, is a world history connoisseur who routinely gives paid lectures around the globe and even does media appearances. A few weeks ago she filmed a segment for a documentary that will air on a streaming service. "How did things become sexual?" I ask. "Quickly." "Can you elaborate?" "That depends," she says. "Am I allowed to be explicit? That's the only way I can truly explain myself and everything that's happened." "This is your secret forum. Say whatever you feel." "I appreciate that. If I'm allowed to say whatever I feel, then I'll be honest. My sexuality has always been different. I'm more attracted to a person than any particular gender. When I first met Professor Behzadi and watched her give a lecture, I was immediately attracted to her, but I didn't know why. It was also the subject matter of ancient religions and spirituality. I discovered that intelligence is my preferred sexual interest." "At what point did Professor Behzadi become aware of your salacious feelings?" "Towards the end of the semester," she replies. "Every so often, I would walk by her office when I had extra time. She was either busy or I was too intimidated to speak with her. One day, her door was open and I noticed that she was sitting behind her desk doing work. I entered and introduced myself, which was clumsy because she already knew who I was. We'd spoken in class plenty of times. She continues, "I wanted to talk privately because I was thinking of switching majors. Maybe do something with history. I considered becoming a historian or a teacher like her. I also considered joining the master's program eventually; she runs that department. When I told her, she seemed receptive to my thoughts and we had a long conversation. She continues, "Basically the professor wanted to see if my heart was in the right place because this kind of major isn't for everyone. A week later, Professor Behzadi emailed me and asked if I'd be interested in enrolling in her new course Religion, Symbolism & Sexuality." "That's the course you're currently enrolled in, correct?" I ask. "Yes." "Tell me how things became intimate. It's the most important part." "It happened a few months ago," she says. "Have you ever seen the bookshelf in Professor Behzadi's office?" "I've seen it, sure, but I've never bothered to look at the books." "Her bookshelf is like the Holy Grail of interesting text. I'm floored every time I see them. Anyway, we were having a conversation by the bookshelf and she was showing me something. She held a book open and gave me a private lecture. I was standing so close to her, admiring her long dark hair, the color of her skin, her eyes and voice. I was so mesmerized that I kissed her on the cheek. I knew it was inappropriate, but it was like an outer body experience. I just did it. I couldn't help myself." "How did she react?" "In typical fashion. Her face was blank. It was like the kiss never happened. But I could see something in her eyes. They were so piercing, like always, but there was something else. I couldn't tell if she wanted to throw me out of her office, or kiss me on the lips." "Well, things obviously escalated if she has intimate pictures of you." "True," she says. "I won't drag this out any longer. My goal isn't to make you uncomfortable. But I do have other questions." "Sure." I tap the pictures on the table. "Why did you take these pictures and send them to your professor?" "I wanted her to have pics of me. The poses are inspired by images in her text books, which I found to be erotic. So it was like an exchange. She gave me her knowledge, and I gave her body in return." "Did the professor ever solicit these types of photos from you?" "No, they were always my idea." "What did Professor Behzadi say upon receiving the images? "Nothing much." "But she kept them." Kate nods. "The professor doesn't show a lot of emotion, but I've always known deep down that she appreciates the photos I send her." "Do you mind if I ask more personal questions?" "Sure." "Were you ever undressed in her office? Or anywhere on campus grounds?" "Yes." "Tell me about that. Give me a sense of what happened." She takes a deep breath. "I masturbate in the teacher's office sometimes when she isn't around. Like when I'd wait while she's talking to another professor somewhere, I'd get bored -- aroused is a better word -- and I'd close the door and do it." "Did the professor ever find out?" "I told her eventually. That's how it all started with the pictures and everything. I know what you're thinking. You think I'm naive, that the professor has taken advantage of me. That's the furthest thing from the truth. I'm a young adult and I've made my decision." "Excuse me if this is too personal, but it sounds like you have feelings for her." "I think I've been clear. Put that in your report, if it comes to that." There's a look of quiet defiance in her eyes, like any expulsion act against her, or disciplinary act against the professor will be met with fierce resistance. I'm disappointed in Kate and Professor Behzadi for engaging in such lewd activities with each other, especially on campus grounds. At the same time, I find myself being sympathetic toward them. I understand Kate's lust for her alluring and esteemed professor. And I understand the professor's interest in Kate, a youthful spirit. If I'm being honest, for the first time since learning of this tryst, I'm aroused in a way that I haven't been in years. I'm silent for a moment. Kate is looking at me. I wonder what she's thinking, what's truly on her mind, and I wonder if she notices that I haven't had sex in a really long time. I'm supposed to be judging her, but I can feel Kate's eyes assessing me. ~~~~~ Professor Behzadi's Classroom & Office ~~~~~ The student in the fourth row crosses and uncrosses her legs. She doesn't wear any panties and this makes her stand out in the lecture hall of over 100 students. It's been this way for almost two months. I look, of course, but I don't give her the satisfaction that she wants. Kate expects me to blush, to get flustered, to stammer my words as I give a lecture on the artwork of ancient Greece, but that won't happen. She won't win. She never does. I'll admit, however, that the whiteness of her thighs and pinkness of her lips will always and forever grab my attention. I know for a fact that Kate removes her panties before coming to class, then afterward she returns to the bathroom to put her panties back on. A teacher represents the purity of an adult. That's what I was taught decades ago, when I was a young woman pursuing a master's degree, with hopes of someday becoming an educator. My career is a privilege and these students are America's future leaders. Now here I am, enjoying the view being offered to me by a young white girl. Our supposed secret. The truth is that we've been playing this game for a while. She's become the absolute center of my sexual life, but that's not something she'd ever know. I finish the lecture, in between taking glances of her naked crotch, and I dismiss the students at the top of the hour. Most students ignore me and leave, others nod and say, `see you next time,' and a few have questions that I'm happy to indulge. After that I leave and have a short conversation with a faculty member in the courtyard. When I reach my office and open the unlocked door, I'm both horrified and awestruck by what I'm seeing. Kate is sitting on a chair, except she's not really sitting on it, with her knees on the cushion and she's facing the window to the campus, while in the prone position with her long hair draped across her back. She's reading a textbook with sticky notes marking the chapters, which means it's from my desk. Even worse (or perhaps, even better) her skirt is hiked and her white panties are down around her thighs, exposing her butt cheeks. At least she's wearing her panties somewhere on her body. During class, her panties are in her pocket. I close the door. Locking it, of course. Kate's here which means privacy is demanded. "Find something you like?" I ask. "A book on symbolism." So the girl is reading the lectures for the coming weeks. And she's still reading, not bothering to cover her bare butt, not bothering to look at me. I've been an educator long enough to know when a student is pretending to read and this is genuine. She's actually reading the text. Kate has an inquisitive mind and a curious heart. That's what I love about her. And that's what she loves about me. "That's a good book. It's our lesson in a few weeks." "Well then I'm excited." At last, Kate closes the textbook and stands, pulling her panties up. She blushes and her face looks even more innocent and youthful. She holds my textbook in her hands, pressing it against her chest like a schoolgirl on the way to class. When she stands in front of me, I tuck her hair behind her ears to see all of her face. "What brings you to my office?" I ask. I already know the answer to that. At this point, there's only one reason she comes here. "Nothing. I mean, I just wanted to bother you." "Try and think in a more positive light. Show me what you've been looking at." Kate opens the textbook and tries to find the passage she had just been reading. She finds it and shows me. As expected, it's an artwork with nudity, which always captivates her interests. It's a painting of breast bondage, something she's confessed that turns her on a great deal. The girl's mind is intriguing and I'm guilty of pushing her boundaries further than any teacher should. I should stop doing this, but I can't help myself. Not when her panties come off so easily for me. I tap my finger on the image she'd been looking at. "That's a scene from the Book of Maccabees." "Interesting. I've never heard of that." "Very few have. We'll be discussing it in class in a few weeks. My question is, why are you looking at it? Why are you so fixated on this chapter?" "You already know." Kate is correct. She always is. My biggest mistake in this perverted relationship is that I'm constantly misjudging her, taking her innocent appearance at face value. And she is an innocent young woman. Her only crime is being overly-curious, which ironically is my job to handle. It's my job to satiate her intellectual needs. "The lesson plan is about how female sexuality has been used against women. It's been the case throughout history, from the Book of Maccabees to the martyrdom of St. Agatha, to the Jewish chronicles of Sefer Josippon. There are countless examples, but the common thread is that women's breasts have been mauled." "Disgusting, but that's why it's so important to learn about it." "I know." "And these illustrations?" she asks. "Do they ever excite you? I mean, the breasts. The bondage. The stunning historical artwork. Are you ever alone in your office, or at home, and then you feel something while creating a lesson plan? Something tingling between the legs." "You'll be the end of me." Kate blushes. "I'm sorry." We stand in silence for a long moment and Kate allows me to stare into her eyes. Her eyes are like a puppy's, expressing a deep and powerful longing for love and a desire to be accepted. I consider myself to be a great judge of character and I know she's a sweet girl with a good heart. Everyone has sexual longings and hers is just a little bit more. "Do you want a demonstration?" I ask. "What did you have in mind?" My eyes travel up and down her body. "Take your clothes off." As if to dismiss her obedience, I turn around and walk to my desk, outwardly ignoring her. Deep down, it's torture as I listen to her undress. All I want to do is stand and stare at Kate removing her clothes but the act would diminish my stature as someone twice her age and an educator. And my academic stature is everything to me. I've worked too hard for it. There are large rubber bands in my desk drawer and I grab some. I listen to her clothes being tossed on a chair and I feel a sense of guilt. When I look at her, she's halfway naked and I'm seeing her from the side angle. A white girl with fair skin. There's nothing sexy about the way she's undressing. It's clinical, like she's in a doctor's appointment. That turns me on more than anything, that she's doing this because I asked her to. Kate even removes her socks and steps barefoot on the carpet. Then she faces me with nervous hands that tremble and pink nipples which are fully erect and a neatly trimmed brown bush. Her body had only recently developed and she is blessed in that department. She's never been naked for an adult woman before, I can tell by the curling of her lower lip and the petrified look in her eyes. But I swear I can smell the aroma between her legs. "Here's a private lesson for you. I'm going to bind your breasts with these rubber bands, okay?" She nods. "Where do you want me?" "Have a seat on top of my desk." I'm sure it's the first time that bare feet have ever walked across the carpet floor of my office, most likely the first time there's ever been a naked student. I've had this office for a long time and there's history which now includes Kate's obedience. She sits on my desk and her butt cheeks press against the surface. Her nipples are inviting and the pinkest I've ever seen with my own eyes. As much as I want to admire them, I have other things planned, stretching a rubber band apart, hoping Kate would blink and grab her clothes and leave. Instead the girl sits there with wondrous eyes and waits for this to happen. So I let it happen, wrapping the thick rubber band around one of her breasts. I release the band as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt her. Not wanting to let such a delicate girl feel pain. But that's impossible. The tightness of the band stings her and squeezes her breast in a round shape, causing her pink nipple to protrude. Maybe, just maybe, this will scare Kate away from me. It doesn't. The same thing happens with the other breast and Kate's breasts form an unnatural shape in this bondage. Her breasts are becoming more red by second and her nipples are more erect and darken. She breathes heavier from the pain and arousal. "Why aren't you storming out of here?" "Should I?" "It would be wise. Look at your tits. They're swollen. Your nipples are engorged." Kate looks down at her chest. "They hurt, but at the same time I feel something that's impossible to describe. I'm assuming you've done this before, so you understand." "I've never done this with anyone." "So I'm the first?" "You're the first girl that's ever been naked in front of me." Her eyes widen. "Go further if you want." My eyes focus on her darkening nipples and I pull them and slap her breasts which makes her squirm with a bit of pain. I never thought I'd be hurting anyone like this, much less my naked student, but here we are. I'm doing it because it's exciting, and because I can smell her aroma now. The white girl is a hot mess. I bend down and suck her nipple, which makes her moan, and with my free hand I reach below and touch between her legs. Wet, as expected. It's my first time sucking a nipple and touching a cunt. I'm glad Kate's my first experience and I'm certain it's Kate's first experience being touched this way. My two fingers slip inside, the student is warm and drenched. When she reaches down to touch between my legs, I slap her hand, swatting her away to reject her advance. "Not there," I say. "Why?" "Because it's not appropriate." Her eyes convey disappointment, but my fingers are still inside of her and I tend to her g-spot after taking a few moments to find it. The look of disappointment in her eyes vanishes, replaced by euphoria and her eyes roll back. It's like looking at a girl possessed. Her eyelids flutter and I keep fingering her cunt and then I suck on her nipples. She cums in my hand and I listen to the music of her orgasm. ~~~~~ Kate's Panties Slide Off ~~~~~ Before going to class I stop by the professor's office. I see her. She's down the hall speaking with another teacher about something. I don't want to wait for her, but come to think of it, I'm glad she's preoccupied because it gives me a moment of privacy. I enter Professor Behzadi's office and I'm strictly business. The door is open and students are going to-and-from classes at the peak hour of campus. No one's looking inside this office. Why would they? It's just me in here. When I stand beside the professor's desk I reach beneath my skirt and pull my white panties off. I place my panties flat on her desk, right in the center of her workspace, and press them smooth with the palms of my hands. A perfect gift for my favorite teacher. I smile from looking at it. How I wish I could see her reaction to this. Afterward I go to the class which Professor Behzadi teaches. I'm early. My friends are there and we talk about small topics, but all I think about are my white cotton panties on the teacher's desk. I wonder if she's seen them yet. When she arrives, I can tell by the look on her face that she saw my gift. She prefers coming to class with a straight face, like a show of force, but today her aura is lighter. She also doesn't glance in my direction. It would make her blush if she did. My panties are on her mind. I wonder where she put them. Probably in her desk drawer where it's safe. But I wouldn't be shocked if they're in her pocket. Did she smell them? She should have. They're freshly worn. The lecture hall is almost full. Close to 75 people today. I'm sitting in the 5th row alongside my friends and I have the aisle seat. It's my favorite spot because I can give the professor a view. I only do this with her. None of my friends know. I never discuss sex with them, only with Professor Behzadi. Halfway through the class I'm unable to control myself. I spread my legs. To other students in the lecture hall, it's a benign act of getting comfortable. But not to Professor Behzadi, who can see what's between my legs. This is like my bat signal to get her attention. Instead of calling on her to fight crime, my signal is about horniness. As always, she looks in my direction. She's joked before that it's a sixth sense of hers. Her eyes take a glance. Only a glance. What a professional. It makes me spread my legs wider so she can get a better look, but nothing too obscene, nothing too obvious. I'm undercover with my moves. No one suspects a thing. When the class ends, I close my legs and fix my skirt. I become just another student. I blend in with the crowd and try to leave with everyone else. "Ms. Cline, you forgot something in my office." The professor calls me as I'm leaving and I say `bye' to my friends. She's holding a petite paper bag from a restaurant, twirling it lightly from the handle. The professor is frugal and she saves different shopping bags to reuse. "Thanks." I take the bag and I'm certain she's rejected my gift. I'm confused that she's giving my panties back. Is this the end? Are we done? Professor Behzadi reads my downbeat expression and gestures inside the bag. "Have a look." I peek inside the bag and see panties. Neatly folded, as if displayed on a department store shelf. Only these aren't my white cotton panties that I left in her office. These panties are red, made from silk. I reach in the bag and touch it. The material is expensive, something I would never pay for. These are the professor's panties! "Beautiful," I say. "They're yours." We're playing a stealth game because the lecture hall is still packed with students, but that's almost over. The place is getting emptier by the second as students from the back rows reach the door. Students rarely talk to the professor after class because she's mean and gives icy vibes. But I hang around. When the lecture hall is finally clear, there's a curious look on the professor's face, wondering what I have planned. But I never have a plan. Not when it comes to something like this. I'm organized in all areas of my life, except for my sexuality. "Can I finally see it?" "My cunt?" she asks. "Yes, your cunt." "Why do you want to see it? Why is it so important to you?" "Because I discovered my own cunt thanks to our private lessons. And I've been dreaming about what your cunt must look like." "I'm old. A girl like you should be dreaming about girls your own age." "Girls my age aren't intelligent and respectable professors." My comment hits the target and Professor Behzadi tenses so bad. Now she knows the true depths of my fantasies. My desire for older, smarter women. Someone that embodies a goddess in mind and character. "I gave you my panties as an exchange," she says. "That's part of my cultural upbringing. You left your panties on my desk, so I have to give you my panties in return. I've never done this before. I may seem cold and indifferent towards you, but that's because I've never touched another woman, much less a student of mine. I'm very religious." My heart melts into a million pieces but that tenderness is replaced with something more deviant. "I have an idea. Give me your phone." "What's this about?" "Trust me." With reasonable reluctance, Professor Behzadi gets her phone and unlocks the screen. She hands it to me, giving a skeptical expression, and I smile at her. I flip through her contacts and my fingers are lightening fast. "What did you just do?" she asks. My fingers keep typing and I send the text message. "I made an appointment with the Dean." "For?" "It was regarding our situation. I have a plan to solve this for good." Her eyes turn wide. "Kate, what did you just do? We're on thin ice with the Dean and I don't want to lose my job or reputation." "You'll have to trust me. My impression of the Dean is that she's more complex than anyone thinks." "What do you mean?" "Trust me. You'll see." Professor Behzadi takes a leap of faith and follows my lead. We pack our things and head to her office, with a fragile tension between us that's never existed before. I wonder if she's furious with me for contacting the Dean, but it's hard to say for sure. We're both pantyless walking through the halls and courtyard towards her office. We get inside the office and I close the door. The door is unlocked. I put my things on the table, along with the brown bag with her panties inside, and my teacher does the same with her stuff. "Sit behind your desk," I say. "Are you in charge of our relationship now?" Professor Behzadi's tone and stature are intimidating, but she's being playful about it. I'm glad that she's loosened up, slowly walking to her desk as if she's accepting her fate. "Only until we get things straightened out with the Dean." She sits behind her desk. "How long have you had this secret plan?" "Literally a few seconds before I asked for your phone. Now give me your stockings. Time is short. Don't ask any questions." Her eyes narrow because this is the first time anyone has ever talked to her this way. Then her eyes lower. She's turned-on by my take-charge attitude. She removes her pumps and pulls her stockings off. I walk behind her desk. It's my first time seeing her bare feet and they look enticing, along with her calves. I get on my knees, which makes her uncomfortable. "Don't move." I use the stockings to tie her wrists to the arms of the chair. Sure, she can use her strength to break free, but she goes along with this. She trusts me. And I know she's fucking drenched. "Where did you put my panties?" I ask. "In the drawer. Top right." I open the drawer to find my panties, then I turn it inside-out and press it to the professor's lips, using my index finger to push my panties into her mouth. She could scream at me, but again she plays along. Then I go to the small bag and get Professor Behzadi's panties, her eyes stare daggers at me. I pull the panties over her head, effectively blindfolding her. Time is of the essence and I get on my knees, underneath the table, in between her legs. When I try lifting her skirt, her legs clench. It's a reflex more than a denial. I use what muscles I have to pry her legs open. She doesn't fight anymore, giving me access to her brown thighs and I see a patch of dark pubic hairs. I pull her skirt up further and I see her pussy. It's everything I thought it would be, luscious lips, dark, trimmed pubic hairs, with pinkness in the middle that's wet for me. I can smell her. She smells like heaven. When I kiss her hairy pubic mound her body jerks but she controls herself and remains still. I keep kissing. Her pubic hairs tickle me. My lips kiss her warm thighs a few times and then my tongue strokes her labia. Then I circle around her big clit, not touching it yet because it feels too personal. I take great care when dealing with the professor's most intimate area. Well, her heart is the most intimate area. I'd say her pussy is second so I have to be cautious. There's a light series of knocks on the door, followed by footsteps when the door opens and closes. The bound and blindfolded Professor Behzadi jerks and tenses when someone enters this private office. I'm hidden beneath the desk. It's all part of my plan. And I have faith in my plan. Our guest is a woman because of the particular noise her heels make when walking on the carpet floor. The woman walks slowly, entering this private domain. The guest chair is pulled and the woman sits across from the professor. It's the Dean. It has to be. While I remain hidden beneath the desk, Professor Behzadi is in such a vulnerable position and I wonder what's going through her mind now that the Dean is here observing this perverted action. I look upward to see the professor's panty-stuffed mouth quivering, wondering if she's enraged or aroused. I bury my face in the teacher's crotch and kiss her labia. Her body responds. My tongue strokes and it makes her hips tremble. I lick circles around her clit and the professor moans into the panties I stuffed in her mouth. I'm certain she's hiding her body's reaction because the Dean is sitting across the desk, watching her. But of course, a woman can never truly hide the pleasure she's feeling. Not when it's this intense. Our bodies are built to experience these things. Professor Behzadi's long legs make the perfect frame for resting my arms, and I suck her pussy hard. She gasps through the panties in her mouth. There's no controlling her reaction. Neither of us have done anything like this before, yet it feels so natural. The exhilarating rush of feeling the professor's orgasm build makes my heart pound. I suck her clit and labia and push my tongue deeper inside. Her fluids are flowing into my mouth and she tastes sweet. I keep working her clit, because that seems to make her tremble the most. Her whole body is shaking. She's cumming. Nature's perfect prize. Her taste is divine and she mumbles something, which I'll have to ask her about later because I'm so curious to know. I like the thought of her saying a prayer to herself, which is the ultimate taboo. My mouth is full of cum and I swallow it down. Sometimes on local news reports they'd talk about `atmospheric rivers' and that's what comes to mind with what Professor Behzadi is doing to me. But this is my fault. It's a problem I want to have. I gag and choke on the delicious flavor and I love what it represents. I pull my mouth away. A trail of cum and saliva mixture hangs from my lips. The professor breathes heavy, sitting back and wondering what her fate's going to be. Is the Dean finally going to say something? To terminate the professor's tenure at this university and scold me for bringing shame upon my respectable family? None of that happens. Instead, the Dean gets up and walks to the door, leaving without saying a word. Her heels make clicking sounds on the floor. She leaves faster than she came in. There's confidence in the Dean's steps as she leaves, and in my mind, she's going to the bathroom to make herself cum. I rest my head on the professor's thigh, then kiss it. We enjoy a moment of silence together to appreciate our first time. I stand and remove my panties from her mouth. She's still blindfolded and I kiss her forehead. She breathes deep. A sigh of relief. "I'm assuming we're alone now," she says. "We are." "Why did you do this?" "You already know." I'm assuming the professor knows that if the Dean wanted to give us shit, it would have happened the second she stepped foot in the office. Instead the Dean sat down and watched, then left, binding the three of us together with an unholy secret. And with our secret safe and the Dean on our side, I kiss the professor on the lips and she kisses me back, swapping her cum with our mouths. My hand goes to her pussy, feeling the aftermath of a flood between her legs, which will no doubt leave a permanent stain on her cushioned seat. The End always remember ~~ you are important