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The Seduction of McKenzie Rose

12

Professor John Gordon peered over his reading glasses from his podium, into the first row of the auditorium, to where she invariably sat in each of his advanced English lit classes. McKenzie. McKenzie Hayden Rose. He prided himself on being unflappable, never being distracted by one of his students, but the growing bulge beneath his khakis was betraying him on this particular occasion.

Almost on cue, with that uncanny instinct that women of any age seemed to have when they have captured a man's attention, McKenzie shifted her weight in her seat and glanced up from her quiz paper to see him staring at her. She was unflustered, confident, very used to men of every age staring at her, such was her beauty. She was twenty but mature well beyond her years, perhaps in every way except sexually. At least, not yet. She had not had that proper mentor that she so yearned for. McKenzie smiled at Professor Gordon and dropped her head back to her paper. His excitement did not go unnoticed by her knowing eyes. She felt the familiar moistness between her legs when she thought of him, realizing that it must be her paper he was reading.

Professor Gordon knew he had let his eyes linger upon her longer than he had wanted to and quickly surveyed the class to see if anyone else had been watching him. None had been. He continued reading the assignment paper from his now all-time favorite pupil. Perhaps her status had now been escalated to "special" with each sentence that he reviewed. This was the first time he ever recalled getting hard simply from a student's prose in all of his years of teaching college. Yes, she was special indeed.

The topic of this project had been, "Adventure. Live Your Life." The directions that he provided to the class were very simple. Describe something that you had always secretly aspired to do, but had not yet allowed yourself to experience. Be vivid and descriptive. 250 words or less. It was an exercise designed to expand the student's creative thinking, and also served the dual purpose of seeing what motivated each student. He had not yet received a paper in his seventeen years of teaching like the one that McKenzie had written.

"People, well, men especially," McKenzie wrote, "have always looked at me as the center of whatever expectations they have about me. Most are purely sexual, surface attraction only. I understand this, and admittedly, use it to my advantage when I find it convenient for me to do so. I even occasionally embrace that and indulge in my own pursuit of pleasures." It was about this time that Professor Gordon began to realize that McKenzie's paper would be very different than a run-of-the-mill project.

"However," her words continued, scripted in impeccable penmanship with lavender ink, not computer-generated, the paper itself smelling distinctly of lilac, "With you, Professor Gordon, I sense something else, a connection much deeper. Your words, your demeanor, your patience, your grace, your dignity, your intelligence, your humor, they have all served to make me realize during this semester that you are the tutor, the teacher, who can teach me what I so desperately want to learn. To have a man truly make love to me, show me, educate me."

"I shudder as I write this to you, trembling, a combination of fear and anxiety, but also of liberation and curiosity and excitement. I have written this to you with the implicit understanding that this is between you and I only, and that you will not betray my trust. In summary, I want my adventure to be.........us. Exploring. Teach me."

Professor Gordon slowly folded the hand-written essay-to-end-all-essays and tucked it into his pants pocket, inches from his protruding swollen cock, waging an earnest war against the fabric of his briefs, who were losing the tug-of-war with each passing second. He made a mental note to thank his good genes, the Good Lord above, and his divorce lawyer for collectively putting him into this position. He glanced at McKenzie out of the corner of his eye without lifting his head. "If ever I saw an A-plus essay, that is the one," he mused. Extra credit hours would be most fun.

For her part, McKenzie could barely concentrate on her pop quiz. When your mind, your thoughts, and your fantasy is on the professor's cock, imagining what it will taste like between her lips, and feel like deep in her cunt, it has a tendency to make dangling participles rather irrelevant.

It took a lot of introspection for McKenzie to actually go through with her plan. However, the risk/reward calculations that she had made in her head eventually took precedence. McKenzie had always rather followed the lead of her men, who rarely knew what they were doing sexually, and more times than not, were finished before McKenzie had even begun her proverbial warm-up pitches. She had been with 8 guys in her young life, yes she had indeed counted, and before she ran out of fingers to count on, she wanted to have a REAL MAN.

McKenzie was a model besides being a college student, and had received offers of all sorts on essentially a daily basis. A porn shot here, a strip club there, but that really didn't get her off. Besides her ample exterior beauty, which by all accounts was literally breathtaking, she was an extremely intelligent young woman who was blossoming spiritually, intellectually, emotionally. The only man she had truly cared about had treated her like dirt, and she was tired of that ilk of player. She wanted mature, she wanted erotic. She wanted the Prof.

From his perspective, Professor Gordon contemplated the entire scenario. To fuck, or not to fuck, that was the question. Fucking won in a landslide.

John Gordon had been an All-American baseball player in college. Such was his passion for his first love, baseball, believe it or not, he hadn't even lost his virginity until he was twenty. He traveled the minor professional leagues for eleven years, pursuing his passion, but his talent had not enabled him to reach the major leagues, the promised land, THE SHOW.

Somewhere during that time, he had married Martha, whom he had met in North Carolina during one of his nomadic excursions in the minors, and they had a child. She convinced him, against every fiber in his being, to retire from the game and lead a 'normal' life. Was there such a thing?

He did so once he reached thirty, and went back to school to get his Masters degree in his second love, literature.

He became a professor, wrote a few books, and had hit it big when one of his novels had unexpectedly skyrocketed up the best-sellers list simply because one of the national female talk-show radio hosts liked how he looked in his jeans on the back cover of his book. He made millions in a short amount of time, surprisingly.

What was not surprising, in retrospect, was how Martha had conveniently decided about this same time that their marriage had reached the point of 'irreconcilable differences', and she won a rather lucrative financial settlement against her now ex-hubby, who was much more interested in retaining at least joint custody of their three kids. He also wanted to return to the normalcy of his teaching. That had not left much time for women in the last several years, although his opportunities were rather bountiful. He was considered the most eligible bachelor at the small liberal arts school, yet the more uninterested he seemed, the more attractive he became to women throughout the school community.

Sure, there was that 26-year-old human resources assistant with the big tits that he fucked on and off, and, of course, the trophy wife of the rich older benefactor, who used him for his cock, to use her own words. But, that was frivolous, though satisfying, sex. Truth was, Professor Gordon hadn't been truly enraptured by a woman in about four years now. Until McKenzie. This was truly a fortuitous collision of timing meeting opportunity. Although Professor Gordon was not a mathematician by trade, he knew what that equaled. Hot forthcoming sex with the young woman of his long-dormant fantasies. And, best yet..she wanted him more.

Mercifully, the bell finally rang to signify the end of this session. The students gathered at the podium to drop off their quizzes. McKenzie lingered until the very end, literally trembling with anticipation of the professors' response. The professor feigned indifference as he dropped off her paper, nodding rather vaguely and absent-mindedly in McKenzie's direction. Her heart sank she slowly climbed the stairs to the exit.

She wondered to herself panicked, "Oh, my God, what have I done, what was I thinking? He probably has a beautiful girlfriend that I know nothing about, and now he has my note as evidence and he'll turn me in. Oh, shit. I'll get kicked out of sch..."

"Oh, Ms. Rose?" she heard from behind her. She jumped, and turned towards the podium, her face a bright crimson.

Professor Gordon looked down at the light purple paper and held it to his nose, inhaling the seductive, sweet scent. "I give the perfume a B-plus, I prefer vanilla." He looked at her now, his green eyes blazing into her own.

"However, I give the subject matter an unequivocal 'outstanding', perhaps the most thought-provoking and provocative essay I have ever encountered."

McKenzie stared at him, frozen with a myriad of emotions. Her nipples unwittingly stiffened visibly beneath her tight tank top.

"You have excellent taste, Ms. Rose, you have chosen very wisely to entrust me with this vital portion of your education. I would be most honored to provide you with additional tutoring, of course."

McKenzie exhaled for what seemed to be the first time in an eternity, though it was only a few seconds. She didn't know whether to jump into this man's arms in an embrace or to get down on her knees right then and there. (By the way, it doesn't take a man with a masters' degree to tell a woman when in doubt over such a decision, always opt for kneeling. Men like that sort of thing.)

"I have time available at 11:30 this coming Saturday morning. Shall we say, Starbucks in The Flats? Would YOU have an opening or two that afternoon? It might take quite a while. We have a lot to cover. Or uncover, as the case may be."

McKenzie couldn't help but to smile. She nodded, off guard, yet relieved and tremendously aroused. "God, it's only Tuesday," she thought, "I'm going to have a lot of masturbating to do in the next 96 hours or so."

"Thank you, Professor. I will see you then." She flipped her hair back and off of her shoulders.

"Oh, no, thank YOU, McKenzie, glad to be of service." His eyes never wavered from hers for an instant. "And, McKenzie..?"

"Yes, professor?"

"If I'm going to make love to you I must insist you not be so formal". She blushed even more deeply, nodding ascent. "Please call me........," he paused for dramatic effect, yet couldn't help but to break into a wide boyish grin. "Adonis." She burst into laughter.

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving McKenzie to scurry from the room in search of the nearest ladies' room to find release.

The next 96 hours did indeed go interminably slow for both of them. Thursday was the worst, when they again had class. McKenzie chose not to sit in her usual front row seat, perhaps trying to be inconspicuous. Professor Gordon thought that McKenzie probably didn't fully realize that she couldn't be inconspicuous at a blind man's convention in a forest on a moonless night at midnight.

Both had canceled their scheduled Friday night dates with others. The Professor begged off of his bi-weekly fuck session with Hot Trophy Wife, choosing to conserve his energy for Saturday's 'tutorial', which promised to be a marathon.

McKenzie asked for a rain check with the hot guy she had met at one of her recent modeling sessions. She had been unusually promiscuous lately, almost constantly horny. Since her last boyfriend had broken up with her, she was on a sort of 'revenge fucking' pattern, much to the delight of a few very fortunate part of the male population in the small college town. She had bedded three different guys within the last month, and there was a very good chance that Model Beefcake Boy would have made it four. Yet, she, too, wanted to be fresh for Saturday for what promised to be the apex of her carnal experiences to date. Perhaps Trophy Wife and Model Beefcake Boy would meet up in the Flats on Friday night and seek their own gratification together. But, who cared?

McKenzie spent a restless night on Friday, tossing and turning, and waking up virtually every hour to provide some self-imposed manual stimulation, fantasizing about he Professor's cock that would undoubtedly be inside of her by later that day. She got up for a run in the cool pre-dawn chill to work off her nervous energy, and spent the remainder of the morning taking a long, hot, bubble bath, again bringing herself twice to climax, and then deciding for the next several hours what she would wear, from the way she wore her hair, to her perfume ("He likes VANILLA?"), to her shoes, to her bra and panties, to her lipstick, to her outfit.

Little did McKenzie know that no matter what she wore, it was almost enough to bring her mirror to erection, so stunning a young woman was she.

She ultimately decided on a white flowered sundress that stopped just above the knee, perfect for this clear, crisp, Indian Summer morning. It was strategically a size too small. McKenzie thought it was a wonderful combination of flirty and slutty. What were those Gretchen Wilson song lyrics? "I wear my clothes a little tight just to watch the little boys come undone." Or something like that, McKenzie hummed to herself.

The dress accentuated her firm, full breasts and shapely, slim, though muscular calves. It also hinted enough of thigh when she sat to leave just the right amount to the imagination. Her bra was also a size too small, not that she needed any more enhancement, and her taut nipples poked prominently through the cotton material. Her thong was the smallest and sheerest and tiniest of tan lace, and she had already had to change from the pink one that had gotten virtually soaked through in a matter of minutes. McKenzie had never experienced anything like the rush of juices rushing through her lips and oozing out from her folds. It embarrassed and aroused and excited her, all at the same time. "GOD, do I want to fuck this man," she moaned softly to herself, adjusting her ample tits in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

She finally settled on a pair of two-inch-heeled open-toed beige sandals, comfortable instead of slutty. "At least from the ankles down," she thought. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and more than halfway down her back, tossed over one eye. She also perused her fragrance music box and chose "Anais, Anais" which had a light, fresh lemony air. "He'll just have to get over the lack of vanilla", she mused in mock petulance.

For his part, Professor Gordon was more interested in cleaning up his bachelor pad. He wasn't certain how much of an aphrodisiac it would be for a stunning twenty-year-old woman to enter the living room of his house filled with his nine year-old's baseball equipment and Pokemon cards, among other kiddie paraphernalia. He dressed quickly in a pair of navy blue linen shorts, tucking his constantly twitching cock, already awash in pre-cum from just thinking about her, into the pant legs, and pulled on a light blue Polo shirt and a pair of penny loafers.

"God, I must look old and nerdy," he thought, looking at himself in the bedroom mirror, sucking in his stomach, still relatively flat but no longer rock hard. "But, JESUS, do I want to fuck this woman. It's a good thing my cock is still rock hard." He smiled. That was the one thing that a younger woman never seemed to fully anticipate, he was naturally blessed with size, strength, stamina, sensuality, and skill. If he were still a baseball player, they would say he had five-star tools. Play ball.

She saw him already sitting in the outdoor patio seating area reading the paper and sipping from the contents a small cup. Goosebumps rose on her forearms as he couldn't see anything or anyone else. She was completely oblivious to the delivery boy who had just crashed his bike into the curb from ogling her, as well as the men rushing to the plate glass window of the adjacent barber shop, nudging each other out of the way to get into position for a better view of her.

He became aware of her presence from her clean, beautiful scent (it just had to be her) as she creeped tentatively forward, but did not acknowledge her yet. It was as if an animal in the woods realizes his soon-to-be-mate is in close proximity just from the combination of the tactile sense of scent and the intangible allure of intuition. He continued to peer intently into his newspaper, his reading glasses teetering from the bridge of his nose, twirling a finger around his curly salt-and-pepper hair, just the way McKenzie had adoringly watched him do thousands of times in his classroom.

Just as she was about to open her mouth in greeting from a few yards away, his head sprang up suddenly and his smile nearly made McKenzie swoon. "Hello, Ms. Rose, please, won't you join me?," offering the chair closest to him.

She gathered her senses quickly. "Good morning, Professor Adonis, er, Gordon, um, why hello, John. Fancy meeting you here." It was her way of gaining her own portion of control of the proceedings, by initiating and inviting teasing banter. She smiled, pleased with herself, immediately at ease. He loved it.

"Ah, a well informed, prompt smart ass. My kinda woman." They both smiled as she eased into the seat next to him, her legs grazing his intentionally as she did so. "However, I have one apprehension about today." He suddenly looked at her gravely, and again, her heart sank. "Oh, no, I knew it," she thought.

He leaned closer to her, his face now so close to hers she could feel his soft, warm breath upon her cheeks. "Are you sure you're not a little too old for me?"

She tossed her head back and roared with laughter, her charming, lilting happy giggle causing the other patrons to look quizzically at them, seeking the source of the humor. The men looked on with envy, the women with fascination. The murmurs. "This has to be a father-daughter meeting, doesn't it, this attractive couple from two generations?"

"You don't think they're..?"

The couple who was attracting all of the attention were oblivious to it, their worlds being focused solely and wholly on each other. While McKenzie's head still tilted back in laughter, John grabbed her face tenderly in his hands and looked at her earnestly. "McKenzie," he said, his eyes gazing upon her mouth and lips, "I've just noticed, it looks like there's something wrong with your mouth."

McKenzie gulped in mid-giggle, aghast. She had spent HOURS trying to make sure every little detail was attended to, so that she would be at her ultimate sexiest. She dabbed at an imaginary blemish. She stammered, "What is it, John?"

He looked at her, tilting his head. "My cock isn't in it yet."

She held her hand to her mouth and literally doubled over in convulsions, laughing, relieved, relaxed, turned on.

John held her hand and waited for her blushing to subside. God, she was cute like a little girl, but incredibly sultry, like the most beautiful and seasoned of Greek Goddesses.

"Are your panties wet?"

"If you only knew," she thought, shifting in her seat. It felt like her cunt was ablaze. She again nodded shyly.

"Well, then, Ms. Rose, go into the bathroom and take them off and bring them to me. Oh, and that bra as well, please. You won't be needing that. I want to see your nipples poking through that dress even more"

McKenzie looked around the patio anxiously, fearing everyone could hear their conversation. In fact, no one could, but virtually everyone wished that they could. It was fairly apparent now what was going on, the seduction of a young, beautiful woman by an older, suave man. Or, was it the other way around?

12
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