The Philosophy of Sex Ch. 01

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My name is Professor Edward Haseman, and I am a Philosophy professor at a local community college. I have many fond memories of students throughout my teaching career, but there is one I look back on with the memory that makes me smile…and pop a hard-on.

Aislin was a lovely young woman in my sophomore Philosophy class. At first glance, she might seem to be like any other sophomore girl; she had long blonde-brown hair, porcelain skin, sparkly green eyes, hips set a bit wider than the typical definition of “beauty” society put forth would allow, and large-ish breasts. But Aislin never wore shoes to class if she didn’t have to. During the cold months, she would wear ballet flats made of velvet. During the hot months she would wear flip flops to protect her feet from the blistering asphalt. But during the mild spring and fall months, she would go barefoot. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 1 pm she would flounce into my class and sit in a different seat.

Being a philosophy teacher, I like things that are unusual or odd; hell, I have dreadlocks and I wear glasses. And, being a philosophy teacher, it is hard to find women that want to have sex with me; they hear “philosophy” and turn tail, thinking I don’t have a “real job”. It doesn’t help that I’m no Tom Cruise, either. But Aislin seemed to like the way I looked, and she seemed even more into how I thought and what those thoughts were. And I was captivated by her. Her green eyes and the placement of an ever-changing flower in her hair intrigued me; her barefooted beauty excited me. During class I would try to not look at her, to keep my composure in front of the rest of the class—but she would always comment, always have a question güvenilir bahis or something to say. The worst part about that was I couldn’t ignore her comments; they were usually profound and very relevant to the topic at hand. Her intelligence on my favorite field of study only made me admire her more. Sometimes she stayed after class to talk to me if she felt the interest—sometimes she didn’t. I could never predict what she would do—which only entranced me further.

Soon I began to have inappropriate thoughts about her, particularly when she would wear those low-cut tops and nibble on the end of her pencil when she was deep in thought, gazing up at the ceiling. The expanse of pale skin on her neck invited me to lick and tease, to touch and tantalize. Her long, tapered fingers would tap out an unknown rhythm on the keyboard of her laptop, and I tried not to imagine all the better uses I would have for those hands, those lips always pulled into a smile.

Before long I was hurrying out of the classroom at the end of every period, rushing to my office to close and lock the door. There I would sit behind my desk and close my eyes, imagining her dancing for me, taking off more than her shoes. As I gripped my cock I imagined it was her hand, her soft, gentle fingers, sliding so delicately, even shyly over me until I spurted long ropes of cum all over myself. Soon my fantasies grew wilder. Soon I began to imagine her following me into my office under the guise of a question for me, only to sink to her knees, unzipping my pants to suck my cock. My ever-imaginative mind continued to have her do things to me, and to let me do things to her. “Oh, Aislin,” I would moan quietly as my mind türkçe bahis brought her to me in a miniskirt and no panties, finally letting me take her. And take her I did, hard, fast, and frantic, bouncing her up and down on my lap as she moaned her pleasure.

This had almost become a sort of ritual for me, even a game. Every Tuesday and Thursday I would teach the class; Aislin would walk in, a few moments late as usual, and the game would begin. She didn’t know what she was doing to me as she bent down over her notes, or tossed her hair. She would lift her head and smile at me, and I would try not to remember all of the things I had imagined those lips doing to me. At the end of class she always won the game she didn’t know she was taking part of—I went into my office and imagined her doing naughty things for me while stroking my cock.

Well, after almost a semester of this, it happened.

It was a breezy Thursday afternoon in May, the perfect weather for shorts, as it seemed. Aislin waltzed into my classroom and did a small twirl before sitting down, her beautiful legs exposed by the mid-thigh shorts she wore. Her legs seemed even longer, being uninterrupted by shoes. God, she had beautiful legs. Just thinking of those bare legs hanging off the side of my bathtub sent a shock of desire straight to my groin. I tried to swallow the sudden lump in my throat and squelch the fantasy before it became obvious to her and the rest of the class that my mind was not on philosophy at the moment. My mind refused to cooperate; I envisioned her in the warm bathwater, bubbles playing prettily over her breasts as she hummed that enigmatic tune she was always whistling on her way into class. güvenilir bahis siteleri She glided a razor over her long, long legs, and then she slid a vibrator over her thigh and…

Oh no. I hadn’t thought of her playing with HERSELF before. Now it was all I could think about as I moved to sit behind my desk, attempting to hide my throbbing erection. The last 30 minutes of class crawled by like hours as my cock demanded immediate attention. Finally the class was dismissed and I hurried to my office to mentally take her, and to masturbate hard. I was out of the room faster than most of the students.

But it seems Aislin wanted to chat with me.

Unknown to me, she followed me to my office after slowly gathering her things, like usual. After all, mine was her last class for the day, why should she hurry? She knew where I would be. So she meandered the short distance from the classroom to my office. By that time, I had closed the door, sat down, and with the picture of Aislin naked and touching herself burning hot in my mind, had begun to masturbate. I could feel the orgasm starting to climb, I was almost there…

Suddenly there was a knock at my door, the handle rattled, and opened. It seemed in my hurry to relieve the ever-building pressure in my pants, I had forgotten to lock my door. And there in the doorframe stood Aislin, mouth agape at the sight of her professor leaned back in his office chair, engorged cock in hand, eyes rolled back as he muttered her name over and over.

“I-I…” she stammered, unsure of what to say. She turned the loveliest shade of rose and turned on her heel and fled.

Panicking, I tried my best to stuff my still-flexing cock back into my pants and went after her, wanting to explain but not knowing what to say. All I knew is that I didn’t want her to be afraid of or disgusted by me. “Aislin, wait!” I called to her as I tried my best to run.

God, what had I done?

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