The Old Professor vs the Young Student


by MinxGirl and billy69boy

I had been teaching at the university for some 30 years, and I had never encountered such an intriguing vision as Soleil in all my days. She is a beauty, and an enigma. She was breathtakingly refreshing and very frustrating…beautiful, yet exasperating. I came to be rather obsessed with this 20 year old vixen from the first time I saw her in class, just something about her that caught my attention: she was half Thai, and half American. I’m sure she would qualify as a genius in any Mensa test, and yet she was notoriously lax and indifferent when it came to academics. She would turn in papers that were astounding in their conclusions, yet she cared little for proper form and function. She hardly paid attention to the basic rules of grammar and punctuation, as if they didn’t matter.

Her most recent paper was the final straw. I gave her a C grade, and wrote a comment across the top of the paper: “This could easily have been an A+. Please see me after class”. I wondered what her response would be. I will admit that I had two motives; I genuinely wanted her to bear down and apply herself, but I also wanted to have some private time with her after everyone else had left my classroom. I was anxious to see her response, as I passed out the papers to everyone in the class.


I could not believe I got a C when I got my paper back! I mean that assignment was so boring, the most boring so far out of Professor Mann’s class I did it in my sleep, literally. When I saw the comment on top of the page and looked up into the professor’s face, I saw disappointment mixed with something else that I could not work out. I know that he expected me to be conscientious with my work, but I got bored so I handed in my assignment without really editing it. Now I have to pay, and pay I will.

The professor was really quite a nice man, a bit older than some of the teachers in the university. I remember the first day when his class got underway, I was running late due to a really stupid traffic on the way to the university. I burst into the room just as the professor was introducing himself. I was flushed from running, I was out of breath as I apologised and looked around for an empty seat. Alas, there was only one which was right at the front, just my luck. But as it turned out, I loved his classes, and as the semester went on I had a feeling that I was beginning to like the professor very much and not in a platonic way.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m only 20 years old so anyone older than say 25 is old to me. I don’t usually go for older guys, I like to stick to people around my age, but the professor was doing something to me without really doing anything to me (if that makes any sense to you). The more I attended his classes the more I look forward to them each day. Even my friends commented on this change, they began to clue into the fact that whenever his class was scheduled I would be all giddy and happy.

Then assignments arrived. I really love the professor’s class but the assignment that he handed out was tedious in the extreme sense of the word. Most of the time, I would type it up a day or two before it was due, since I would fly through the material with my eyes closed, and don’t really bother about the grammar or the edits. I actually never bothered to think whether I have to pay attention to it or not, but now, this paper, C grade! I almost crumpled the work in my hand with frustration, I wanted to throw a tantrum, but I restrained myself. It would not do to embarrass myself in class.

Since his class was the last lesson I have for the day, I stuck around after all the other students have left, holding on to the C grade assignment in my hand. The professor said goodbye to the last student, and indicated that I should come forward to his desk. I smooth the paper on his desk, and demanded to know why I got a C grade when I know that my work was better than the grade he gave me.


I was finally alone with Soleil, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I watched her stride purposefully up the aisle and approach my desk. I wasn’t so sure if this meeting was a good idea after all. She was clearly irritated and upset with me…not surprising, I suppose. Perhaps I should have given her a B instead of a C, but I wanted to make a point, and I wanted to get her undivided attention. I suspect she had probably never received such a low grade in her life, such was her obvious intelligence.

I will admit I was taken aback by her seething anger. I leaned back in my chair, and let her rant, feeling a rush of excitement that I tried not to acknowledge. She was quite fetching when she was angry. When she finally calmed down, she actually apologized for her tirade. I was silent for a full half minute, and just stared at her, even as she cast her glance downward. When I told her that there was a time when a professor might turn her over his knee, she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. I paused to let her fully consider that image in her mind. She slowly lifted her head denizli escort and looked me in the eye, and a slight smile appeared on her face, with a subtle twinkle in her eye. I will admit, I felt a slight tingle in my groin as well, but I did not dwell on the idea.

I assured her that her reaction was understandable, but I also stood by the grade I gave her, and I told her why. In the end, I offered to reconsider her grade if she was willing to put in the required effort. She thought about it, and asked me what she had to do. I suggested she stay after class for the next several weeks, and I offered to tutor her on the fine art of detail and presentation. I explained that it wasn’t good enough to just throw ideas down on a piece of paper, no matter how good her ideas were. She needed to pay attention to details, and to consider the overall scholarly presentation of her work.

After we agreed to meet again after class the next day, I dismissed her and gave our meeting no more thought….that is, until she showed up in class the following day is an impossibly short, tight mini skirt and a flimsy, clingy blouse.


Dressed the way I was going to meet the professor was a deliberate choice and with a purpose. That day that I was handed my paper back, I saw some excitement lit up behind the professor’s eyes as he sat back to let me rant until I was out of breath. I was unsure if the enjoyment that I detected from the professor was because of my reaction, or something else. He shifted his position a few times in his chair as I stood there, so I hoped it was from something else.

On our next one-on-one meeting, I dressed up in a black mini-skirt that rode up my slim thighs as I sat down, with a see-through tight-fitting white blouse with a white camisole underneath. This is only to test a niggling suspicion that I had since the other day so I decided to forego all sort of underwear just on the off-chance that my instinct had been right and I have always trust my instinct.

Unfortunately this means that all through the day I was in commando mode, and since his class was in the middle of my daily schedule, I told the professor that I had to come back to see him after my last class. The professor only nodded and told me dismissively not to be late, since he also had a lot of grading to do for his other students. I figured in this case, he could probably spare thirty minutes, at most sixty minutes for me. I told him I won’t be late and hurried off to my next class.

Once my last lesson let out, I first headed to my car to drop off my things and took the previous assignment with me and headed to the professor’s office, which he happened to share with another tenured professor who was currently away. So we had the office to ourselves when I knocked on the door and opened it once I heard a muffled response to enter. I was hit with cold air as I entered the office the air-conditioning having been turned on full-blast. My nipples stiffened immediately from the cold and pushed against my camisole.

The professor was seated at his desk, busy grading the papers in front of him. His head was liberally peppered with grey as he studiously bent his head to read the work on the desk and did not look up to see who had entered his office. I closed the door quietly and cleared my throat. The professor looked up, his eyes lit up as his gaze travelled from my head to the hem of my mini-skirt. He told me to take a seat in front of his desk, and that he’ll only be a few more minutes. I took the only armchair in the room and sat with my legs parted almost too wide, but I demurely folded my hands on my lap with my assignment. I swallowed saliva with anticipation, biding my time when the professor would look up once he finished with the paperwork.


As I purposely ignored Soleil for several minutes, I smiled at myself inwardly, knowing that the cold air blasting into the office had to be getting uncomfortable, considering all the bare flesh that she had exposed. I fought to maintain my composure, and tried to act as indifferent and inconvenienced by her presence as possible, knowing full well that my libido was silently screaming from within. I had not considered a secondary benefit from turning up the air-conditioner, until I noticed her hard nipples straining against her thin blouse.

As I sat before her, pretending to be engrossed in my work, I pondered her motivation. Other students had tried to seduce me in my days, much to their ultimate disappointment. There was no way some young sex-crazed student was going to get me to give her a better grade simply by flashing some skin, and making suggestive gestures. But Soleil seemed different in some way. I wasn’t sure quite what she was up to, but I devised a rather clever plan.

Finally, I gathered up the test papers on my desk and placed them in my briefcase, and then I looked at her face to face for the first time. I hoped that my stern look properly hid my melting heart. I chose to refrain from commenting denizli escort bayan on her seductive appearance, and pretended not to notice. Luckily for me I was sitting behind my desk, so my awakening erection was hidden from her view. I motioned for her to take a seat next to mine, and offered to go over her paper with her. She slid her chair over and sat down closely beside me. I could easily inhale her intoxicating aroma, my guess: strawberry scent in her shampoo and perhaps a mist of perfume. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to maintain my charade of calmness for too long, so I explained that we would go over the simple grammar mistakes and typos first. We sat closer as we both read silently. I circled each error with a red pen. As we went through each page of her assignment, I could feel the electricity crackling between us. I wanted to rub my leg against hers, but I forced myself to act professionally.

I couldn’t remember the last time I sat so close to a beautiful young woman like Soleil, or any woman, for that matter. Having been long since widowed, and not much for the social scene, I seldom dated. My life consisted of teaching, and going home to an empty house. I might have a glass of wine while I graded test papers, and I could cook a fairly decent dinner. Beyond that, I would entertain myself by watching some internet porn before retiring for the night. Soleil had reawakened some emotions that I had not felt in quite some time.

We counted 24 mistakes that she was to consider. I looked her straight in the eye, and told her that for every mistake that she didn’t properly correct, she would receive one smack on her bottom. She looked at me with raised eyebrows, and I explained that she needed to know there were consequences to pay for any further lack of effort on her part. I reminded her that she was welcome to take her C graded paper and leave at any time. I struggled to calm my breathing and act nonchalant, as she made her decision. I told her I was going to go to the bathroom, and she had better be finished making the proper corrections upon my return.

I gave her almost ten full minutes to make a mere 24 changes. I could only speculate how she might react to my proposal. Those ten minutes felt more like ten hours. I strode purposely into the room to find Soleil sitting perfectly straight up in her chair, hands folded in her lap, with a barely detectable hint of amusement on her face. Her assignment was placed carefully on my desk in front of my chair. I sat down, and began to check it over. Page after page had been fixed, and I was just about to remark that she should have done the proper editing the first time around, when I turned to the last page: all of a sudden, instead of “says” she wrote “sez”…”does” now read “duz”, “isn’t” became “ain’t”, and so on…13 words were deliberately miscorrected. To top it off, at the end, she arbitrarily jotted down her own extra words: cock, pussy, tits, and ass.

I looked up, incredulous, to see Soleil with a big grin on her face, her eyes brightly lit. I couldn’t help but blush a deep red. I was speechless, as I tried to process this unexpected response. She called my bluff, of that there is no doubt. I realized she was beating me at my own game. I had no choice but to roll my chair back from my desk, turn towards her, and patted my hand on my lap. She hesitated at first, until I reminded her of our agreement: she was asking for 13 whacks for her “wrong” answers, as well as four more whacks for her added “bonus” words, 17 smacks total. Now, let’s see whose bluff was being called, I thought. My pulse raced as I tried to hold my lust in check.

I thought I might faint dead away when my dream girl quietly rose from her chair, walked towards me, and laid across my lap. Just when I was sure the situation couldn’t be any more erotic, Soleil reached back and flipped her tiny skirt up, presenting her luscious, firm ass to my wild eyes.


As I lay on my stomach atop Professor Mann’s lap, my hands almost touching the carpeted floor, my heart beat uncontrollably in my chest. I felt hot and cold at the same time, hot within my pussy, and cold from the air-conditioning in the room. Goose pimples appear on my skin with anticipation of what was to come. I’ve never been spanked in my entire life, and here I was, in a teacher’s private office, my skirt up over my ass getting ready to be punished for my mischief. I rubbed my thighs together with excitement and hoped that the professor did not noticed how turned on I had become by the thought of being smacked on my bottom.

Professor Mann’s hands stroked my bare buttocks lovingly at first, as if preparing my tender cheeks for what was about to be applied to it. Without warning, loud whacks made contact with my bare ass: once, twice, thrice in quick succession. I was made to count aloud the number of times he would apply the corporal punishment. I moaned out the numbers, at first with real pain, but by the eighth slap, my ass had become so hot that I could escort denizli no longer feel pain, but pleasure began to build from his hand. By the twelfth smack, I dropped all pretence and ground my naked mound on Professor Mann’s lap, his khaki trousers stained with my juice. The 14th stroke came and I was panting with need, I spread my legs apart to better receive his slap against my pussy, but the professor ignored the invitation and continued his slap on my rounded, creamy derriere.

By now my ass was red to the touch and hot. Before applying the last three strokes of his hand, the professor shifted his position, and I could feel his cock pressed into my right arm. He was throbbing as he raised his hand to whack me for my naughtiness. My instincts had been right and I smiled with satisfaction, glad that Professor Mann could not see my evil grin.

As he reached the last stroke, the professor stopped and bent down to rub his cheek on my red ass, and lick my skin. I closed my eyes and sighed as I felt his tongue on me, his saliva salve to my sore and hot bum. I felt him move his tongue to the crack of my ass, but he went no further down between my ass cheeks. I could hear him taking a big whiff of the scent I was giving out from my pussy. I waited for the last smack to be administered and Professor Mann did not disappoint, it being the hardest out of all 17th strokes. I shuddered as I was about to orgasm, but I was not quite there. I should have written out more incorrect words on my papers!

I could feel the professor panting as the sound of the slap died away, his cock was even harder now than before if that was possible. I was also breathing heavily with lust as I contemplated my next move. I got up slowly from his lap, my face flushed as red as my ass, and instead of moving away, I gingerly sat astride his lap since my ass was burning up and quickly unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers to get at what had been stabbing my right arm for the duration of the spanking, which barely lasted more than 20 minutes. My hands busied with the buckle and fly, but I retained my eye contact with Professor Mann. He did not try to stop me.

His grey eyes clouded over as he looked down at my lewdly displayed pussy, my black mini-skirt well over my hips, my juice glisten between my thighs, and being in the cold room, it made me shiver from the exposure. My right hand reached into the opening of his pants and found my objective: throbbing and waiting. I sighed as I looked down and grasped his thick penis. My left hand held on to the backrest of his chair as I agonisingly slowly moved my right fist up and down along his shaft, his pre-cum had moistened the tip of his cock and I spread the clear fluid with my thumb on the tip of his manhood.

I looked into his handsome and lined face, and thought never in my wildest fantasies would I have ever considered Professor Mann as a subject of my desire, or any teachers for that matter. This was something entirely new to me. I wanted Professor Mann. I needed Professor Mann. I hoped he also needed and wanted me in the same way that I craved him.

Within a few minutes of my hand pumping his cock, the professor climaxed into my hand. His eyes closed and he moaned in ecstasy. His white hot cum shot into my enclosed fist as I pressed the palm of my right hand on the mushroom head of his cock so his semen does not shoot all over the place. His cock shuddered and one last spurt came between my fingers. I looked down, licked my lips and brought up my dirty hand and licked the professor’s cum off my fingers and palm.

I unhurriedly got up from his lap, pulled down my black mini-skirt over my ass, grabbed my papers from his desk, and walked out of the professor’s office without looking back. I left the professor sitting in his chair, his cock winding down to its soft state, as I returned to my car and drove home with a satisfied smile on my face.


Several days had passed since I allowed my brazen student to seduce me. I was still shocked by her boldness, and I felt weak for offering no resistance. Did I enjoy her deliberate advances? Of course I did. But now I relinquished the upper hand in our battle of wills, all because of my own lustful desires. I had to regain control of the situation or risk being rendered powerless or worse yet, being blackmailed.

As class let out, I summoned Soleil to my desk. Without any mention of our last encounter, I told her that I had some free time after classes were over, and I would be happy to continue our analysis of her assignment. She did not meet my gaze, but looked down at the floor as she nodded in agreement. She would meet me once again in my office.

I sat at my desk and pondered our actions to this point, and tried to devise some sort of strategy whereby I could regain the upper hand. There was no denying what had already taken place. It was a matter of reinstating my authority. My thoughts were interrupted by a tapping at my office door. Rather than just announce that the door was open, I jumped up and opened it myself. In walked Soleil, as if she were walking on clouds. She was fresh and smiling and light on her feet. She glided past me, placed her paper on my desk, and took her seat. This time, she wore a long sleeveless dress, low cut and form fitting…subtle, but sexy nonetheless. I imagined what she might or might not be wearing underneath.

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