My breath suddenly becomes shallow as it escapes in short gasps through my mouth. My heart thumping as quick and as fast as the feeling in my lifting erection. I almost have an instinct to close my legs back up, tensing slightly at Professor Galfred’s touch. His hand is still riding up my pants as my top leg slides off my bottom one. No way to hide it now.

My hands are grappling the bottom of my seat. My eyes becoming wide as they peer close to the rims, concentrating hard on where his hand is going. I look up to him and he’s got those eyes of his gazing right into me. I can literally feel his look. He then moves his eyes down at the the center of my pants. His fingers hovering just above the material of my pants. Not touching it, but the warmth of his hand so close to them, it nearly sears a dense heat through my leg.

“I saw you,” the professor says. “I saw you seeing me… at the beach.” He does a slow blink as he softly moves his eyes back up to meet mine. “You are aware that that was a private beach.” He lays his hand back on my pants, but gently. Imagine if a shadow had physical presence and then you’d get the idea of what this feels like. “Aren’t you, Mr. Holt?”

I glance nervously off to the side and face him again. Not able to fully look at him. The far recesses of my mind expanded into steaming saunas. My face getting hot and flustered. The shade of red caressing just underneath my skin nearly palpable. “I’m, um, I’m sorry?”

The professor tilts his head while forming this inquisitive look. There is this gentility to his eyes. He’s not close enough to lean in and kiss me, but God, I’m certainly getting the impression he could do that any minute.

“You’re sorry? Mr. Holt, you saw me at a location that was supposed to be secluded and you saw me, your professor, without anything on. Do you think that’s right?”

Even though the questions he’s asking sound accusatory, his voice is telling a different story. It’s genuine and warm. Dare I say inviting of any kind of objection.

I only manage to shrug my shoulders. They don’t even shrug all the way. They lazily move up to either side of my head, reaching only half a centimeter, if that. My blue eyes caught in between lids that are abated in their motion. I want to say something like, I don’t know. But what comes out is this uncertain sound that spills from my lips.

“Do you think it’s fair?” he asks as he moves his eyes back down again, spotlighting right on my crotch area. He moves his hand up to the very top of my pants. He closes his index finger and thumb at the cornered fabric just above the button. He starts tugging, slightly. Not enough to open them, but enough to where I can feel a delicate pull. My cock so hard it’s lifting up through my pants and almost touching his hand. “Do you think it’s fair, Mr. Holt, that you got to see me, but I haven’t gotten to see you?”

I actually don’t know what he means for a second. It takes longer than it should for me to completely understand. My mouth drops open and I whisper an, “Ohhh.”

He applies just a little more force to his thumb and index finger. I’ve got one of those snap buttons and no belt. So it would be easy for one to just pull it open. I swear I can see the button begin to exit the hole it was made to be placed into.

“I don’t think that’s right? You do realize, Mr. Holt, that if I were to tell anyone, well…”

A quick gasp leaps into my throat as the button actually snaps open. “You won’t exactly get kicked out, but it will make a lot of trouble for you. And you’re on a scholarship, right?”

Again, he doesn’t even sound threatening. It’s just matter of fact. In fact, with the tone he’s using, it almost sounds like he’s seducing me. Careful to speak with an exact and sumptuous curve to his tongue. He’s practically molesting the English language.

However, that doesn’t stop from part of me feeling not just intimidated, but having a spot of fear. What could this man do to my scholastic standing?

I look down as I see he’s now lifting up the head of my zipper. “So, I think it’s only fair that I,” he begins pulling. The teeth modestly opening as shadows escape from the top of my underwear, “That I get to see you. Do you agree?” He continues to pull at the same speed.

I just sit there, shaking my head, not saying no, just not knowing what to say. The professor then stops halfway through. My hard-on pressing up against the partly undone zipper, wanting so desperately to break free of it.

“Yes or no, Mr. Holt?” he asks, his index finger and thumb still on the head of my zipper.

I look back up to him while he is still looking down at the work he’s done, so far, at the center of my pants. “Umm, I, ugh, I, I guess so, yes?” I say, wanting to see where this is going to go.

I can feel him begin to pull, again, just enough to where it’s riding on the two pieces of small track it’s on. With my dick getting harder by the second, his pinkie beginning to caress the tip of my penis over my pants, my breathing drowning at the base of my throat, I lift up my head and close my eyes.

I then feel his warmth suddenly pull away. I dart my head back down and he’s standing up, now. “Good,” he says.

He looks back up to the door and starts walking back up the stairs. I sit here confused as all hell as I quickly zip up and button my pants. My heart twists at the sound of the door he locked not just five minutes ago being unlocked. “Then we’re in agreement,” I hear him say.

I hear him opening the door. I gather my things and get up from my seat. When I turn around, I see him standing beside the opened door. “I will be sending you an E-Mail with instructions, Mr. Holt, but I want you to meet me at my place tonight.”

My eyes go wide as I try to hide a smile. “Umm, wha-what, umm, what for?” I ask, knowing the answer, but I want to hear him say it.

“Oh, that’s not important right now, Mr. Holt. What is important is your scholarship and not disappointing me.” He extends his hand towards the door, obviously meaning for me to take my leave. “I’ll see you tonight, Mr. Holt.”

I can’t think of much to say. I just nod my head while still holding my hand to my crotch area. It’s going down, but I can still feel it poking out. I walk up the steps and manage to swing my eyes up to his a few times and then walk through the door. I don’t look back. I just keep walking. There may be plenty to look forward to tonight.

_________________________________________________________________________

It was odd that the E-Mail said to wear such dressy attire, yet to have loafers instead of shoes.

I’ve managed to get out of my car and make it as far as where the sidewalk and the walkway up to his door meet. I was all ready to just go up and knock on the door when I stopped for a second after hearing what I thought was other people’s voices. Not just voices, I’m hearing whole overlapping conversations and a subtle hint of music. I’m not afforded the assumption that it could be someone else’s house, because behind the curtains of the lit-up windows, I can see shadows of people. Not just a few people. I could see quite a lot.

The house, itself, is one level. But, man, is it nice. There’s a wooden fence on the side and I could tell, just from the front door, that the inside of this place must look pretty fancy. What would you expect from a professor’s salary? Especially one at such an esteemed college as I go to.

I do think, for a minute, though, that maybe I do have the wrong place. I clear my throat as I begin making my way up to the door. Already picturing in my mind that I’d be doing that thing where I’d have my hand up to the door ready to knock, but freeze a few times, questioning whether I actually should or not.

As I make my way up, though, something comes more and more into view. It’s a piece paper taped to the window on the front door. I can feel my pulse accelerate as I step cautiously towards the door and actually read what the piece of paper says:

Mr. Holt, before you enter, please take off your shoes and socks and leave them at the door.

Okay, now that’s just weird. If he wanted me to do this, why didn’t he just say that in his E-Mail? Furthermore, why are there other people here tonight? Just what exactly does he have planned? I’m shaking my head no as I step back and begin second guessing this. I turn around and start walking with more determination to my car.

Just as I’m halfway between my car and the professor’s front door, I hear the door open behind me. Upon that door opening, I’m listening to other voices more clearly, now. The music and the conversation. I place my hand on my chest for a second. Feeling the heart beating underneath my fingers. It can’t possibly be…

“Mr. Holt.”

The professor.

I turn around, partly. Facing the next-door neighbor’s and the front door. My eyes move the rest of the way to the door, and out of the side of my vision, I’m seeing the professor. He’s dressed up in a mahogany red, buttoned-down shirt, with the signature look of those first few buttons being undone, showing off his chest hair. And he’s got on beige slacks that are firmly pressed against his skin.

My prick twitches a little just from seeing him at an angle. My mind immediately going to this afternoon. Him locking the door and feeling his hand undoing my pants and pulling my zipper down, and especially running his pinkie right along my growing penis. I catch myself and calm my breathing down as much as I can and try to get my mind off of earlier today. I wouldn’t want to get a hard-on right now.

The professor puts his hands in his pockets and walks up to me. He does this casual swagger and looks at me with a knowing expression. It’s as if he wants me to get excited again.

“Please come inside,” he says, still making his way up to me.

“Ummm, I’m, um, good… professor. I just realized___”

“Trust me, Mr. Holt, you don’t have to worry about assignments right now.”

He walks up a little closer to me. I’m still only side-eyeing him as I’m facing the house next door. “It is going to be in your best interest to come inside. There’s quite a few people that want to see you.”

I finally turn to face him. “Why does anyone want to see me? I mean, you indicated tonight was going to be a little more …. intimate?”

“It is, Mr. Holt,” the professor says. “It is going to be a very intimate evening. And I suggest you come inside. You’re going to disappoint a lot of people. Not to mention do irreparable damage to your scholarship. Or were you not listening when I said that this afternoon?”

Again, he just has that way of speaking. The words sound threatening, but the tone of voice he’s using is far from it. It’s inviting and warm and he’s just looking at me with such charming enthusiasm.

I nod my head and start making my way towards his house with him beside me. I look forward and see, now, who’s inside. It’s a good number of the faculty. Several other professors, the dean, even some students. And I’m noticing that all of them are men. Not a woman in sight. At least from what I can see in the doorway.

Before I enter the house the professor puts a hand on my stomach. He lets it linger there, moving the fingers slightly, caressing my stomach and edging real close to my belt. This gets everything in me going as I can feel my dick to press up against my underwear, which is starting to fill out my pants. Again, I try to calm down. Injecting some quick meditation through my nervous thoughts that are also actually kind of aroused.

“You read my note, correct?”

I look forward. Everyone else is wearing shoes and socks. So my am I to take mine off? I want to ask, but when I look back to the professor, he’s looking at me with persuasive compassion.

I just nod my head and use my right foot to pull the loafer off my left and vice-versa. I bend down and put them aside and then remove my socks. I roll them up in balls and place them in the loafers. When I stand back up, Professor Galfred has his hand out, inviting me in. I’m still somewhat excitable as I enter this elaborate home full of men from my college. All the while, I’m wondering what I have just agreed to.