English has always been my best and favorite subject, so much that it became my major in college. I had been doing well the first two years, and now, as a college junior, I had to face all new problems. Harder classes. Preparing for graduation. Mr. Miller's Creative Writing class.

It's not as though he is a hard teacher, or old, ugly, etc. – no, quite the opposite. He is the sexiest teacher I'd ever seen, let alone had. He stood not much taller than I, at 5'7", lean, muscular build, blue eyes and brown hair. He had the look of a typical college professor, a very sexy college professor.

The problem started, really, on the first day. The second he walked into class, every female turned towards him with enough force to cause whiplash. Including me. (What can I say, he's hot, it's not like I'm blind.) I can hardly remember anything he said. I was too busy having my own erotic fantasies. By the looks of all the other girls in the class, so were they. My pussy was throbbing like never before, it was all I could do to keep my hands away. As it was, I spent the whole period shifting erratically in my seat.

A few weeks later, though no easier on my mind or poor little throbbing pussy, we had developed a kind of pattern for class. Discussions, a bit of reading, then he'd give us our next assignment, after which, without fail, most of the girls in class kept him afterwards for questions on the paper. He always seemed to look at me as though he had something he very much wanted to say.

One day, as soon as the girl parade headed toward his desk, he told them he'd answer their questions later, he had to be going. I was just getting ready to leave, following the last of the girls out the door, when he stopped me.

"Miss James, may I have a word?"

I walked up to his desk, and asked what this was about. My pussy was throbbing and my concentration faltering, due to the fact that I was less than six inches away from him.

"I think that you're a brilliant writer, Miss James," he began.

"Please call me Eve."

"Alright then, Eve. You are quite brilliant as I've said before, but lately you seem... preoccupied. Your work isn't up to the usual standards."

He was right. Lately every time I started writing a paper for his class, I started fantasizing about him. Particularly what his large cock looked like, and how it would feel deep in my pussy. Or in my mouth...

I couldn't tell him that was what was happening, but I think somehow he knew, because he started to say something, and moved to brush my cheek, but was interrupted by another professor. He told me to come by his office later to discuss things.

I was in such a