Her Dirty Professor(23)

This catches me off guard, and I feel myself blush and laugh like a nervous schoolboy. Maybe we won’t make it back to the house after all. All the different locations I can take her in my car start firing off in my head. There’s a wooded area off the highway a few miles down, or the bluffs where the students like to park. Though having sex in a muscle car with bucket seats isn’t ideal, I’m sure we can make it work.

I playfully bite her ear. She stops so suddenly I run into the back of her and have to grab her waist to keep her from catapulting forward.

At first I laugh because I think she tried to trip me up on purpose, but when I see her face frozen in shock, I look up and find Dean Meyer, my boss, standing with his wife in front of us.

“Loche,” he says, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. He glances at Georgia, then back at me. Realization irons out the confusion wrinkling his face as he figures out what he’s seeing.

While it’s not unheard of for a teacher to take students out to celebrate an accomplishment in the class, it’s typically with a group or somewhere brightly lit and very public, during the day. Definitely not a secluded, romantic restaurant.

I straighten up and take my hands off of Georgia’s waist. “Hello, Dean Meyer,” I say.

He lifts his chin. I can tell he wants to get to the bottom of this right now, but this is not the time nor the place. By the way his wife folds her arms over her chest, it’s obvious she’s put out by the interruption in their night.

My blood drains and my hands turn clammy. I guess I didn’t need my sex tape to ruin my career after all. There won’t be any wriggling my way out of this one.

I clear the lump in my throat and say, “I suppose I should explain myself.”

“Yes,” the dean says, “you should, but I’m out with my wife for our thirtieth anniversary, so we’ll talk about this tomorrow in my office, first thing in the morning.”

“Right, of course,” I say.

He turns and walks away without another word.

I glance at Georgia. She’s looking up at me with big, frightened eyes. My thoughts are spinning. I can only imagine what’s going on in her head. It’s not just my career that’s ruined over this. She could very well lose her scholarship too. I won’t let that happen.



Georgia sits in the passenger seat with her bare feet propped on the dashboard. “I can’t believe we were caught by Dean Meyer of all people,” she says.

I’m still sorting everything out in my head, thinking of a way to fix this, but I’m coming up with nothing.

“You’re quiet,” she says. I can feel her eyes on me. I’m trying not to freak out, punch the steering wheel and cuss like I want to. I don’t want to frighten her.

“I’m just thinking,” I say.

“Maybe you should just drop me off back at the dorm instead of both of us going back to your place,” Georgia says, resigned.

I know I’m not the greatest company at the moment; I’m not the most communicative person when I’m upset, but the last thing I want is for her to leave. I won’t stop her if she doesn’t want to be around me, though. I wouldn’t blame her.

“Is that what you want?” I ask, hoping she’ll say no.

“Of course not. But if someone sees me at your house it’ll be worse for you.”

I look off into the distance, the muted glow of my headlights leading the way, bugs darting in and out of their beams. “I don’t care about that. I just want to be with you tonight.”

She’s quiet. When I glance over at her, she’s staring out the window. “Okay.”



Georgia hasn’t said a word in twenty minutes. I start to think maybe it would be better if I took her home. Tonight was a lot to take in and perhaps it would be best if we both took some time to process it. But as soon as we walk into the house, she starts to take off her clothes. Shoes first, dress second, then others items follow.

I just stand in the doorway, waiting to see what happens next. “Do you want me or not?” she says.

I don’t hesitate. Kicking the door shut with my foot, I immediately begin taking off my clothes too. She waits for me by the couch. I kiss her, tasting the wine still on her tongue. She makes fists in my hair, keeping our lips sealed together, pulling our naked bodies closer together. She kisses me like her life depends on it. Suddenly Dean Meyer and my imminent ruin have left my thoughts, and all there is room for in my head is her. Her touch, her scent, her kiss. Her body.

She twists in my arms, exposing her backside to me. That round, pale, beautiful butt. I bend her over the arm of my couch and kneel to worship her. I kiss the fat fleshy mounds from top to bottom, then spread her open and bury my face in her delicious pussy.