Almira

The first time I met her was when she came to my office, the day before our second homework assignment was due. I'd certainly noticed her before. Dark skin. Deep olive skin. Probably Mediterranean of some sort. Deep black hair, just past her shoulders, but thick, as if you could swim in it. She was small, probably about 5'2," and 100lbs or so. Very pretty, in the way sophomores are pretty. Young, but not illegal. Unethical, for me, to be sure, but not illegal.

I'd been curious enough to look her up in the course list. The name 'Almira Rossini' seemed to clinch it. Definitely Italian.

It was mid-October, and not a terribly unusual mid-October day, though it was a bit warmer than it might have been, and quite humid, with the wind blowing hard off the water and the seagulls floating all day above Harvard Square. Almira was dressed for the occasion, wearing a skirt that didn't nearly make her knees and a loose-fitting, if opaque, T-shirt. Pretty normal attire for a student.

Almira was at my office for a reason. She had some good questions, the kinds of questions I'm always happy to have from my students. Questions that deserved a lot of answering. She had done several of the problems in her notebook, so I had to move over closer to her to see her work. Almira was seated on an overstuffed chair along the short edge of a coffee table in the corner of my office; I sat on a love seat along the long edge; and now both of us were leaning over her notebook, which was perched precariously on the corner of the coffee table. I was scribbling some ideas on one of the pages when I looked up at her to see how she was receiving my comments. It was then that I saw her breasts, fully exposed. Her shirt had fallen in front of her, utterly open, and she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were small, B-cup at best, as I'd expected from what I'd seen of her clothed, with dark nipples matching her skin. They seemed to be beautifully shaped.

I tried my damnedst to keep my eyes off her tits, but I was utterly compelled to look at the beautiful sight just inches before me. I apparently completely failed to register what Almira was saying to me, because she suddenly looked up, saying, "Professor Cook?"

Hoping that she hadn't noticed where my eyes (and mind) had been, I quickly stood up and tried as best I could to compose myself. I paced a bit, moved toward the white board as if to write something or other, the backed off, hoping my suddenly erect cock wasn't as visible through my pants as it was through my nerves. "I'm not sure I understand exactly what you're asking," I said, playing for time. "Can you say it again?" She did, carefully, and extremely intelligently, so I turned toward the board, hiding the tent in my pants, and wrote out a quick proof on the board. By the time I'd finished my explanation, the emergency was over, and so I was able to sit back in my desk chair, facing her. I was going to stay away from that couch.

Unfortunately, that didn't help nearly as much as it might. Almira's nipples were clearly very, very hard, and my brain quickly went searching for a reason why. It wasn't cold at all, outside or inside; no huge temperature differential, to light the high beams as she came inside. Nor was her shirt the thin sort of veil you'd expect to show off her teats, but a heavy cotton knit that you'd expect to hide a bit of nipple here or there. My eyes were not helping me. So I did my best to move my mind elsewhere, and forced myself to look up toward her face. But that didn't help either. Our eyes locked briefly, but long enough for her gaze to sink into my soul. I felt like I was spinning, so I went with it and quickly spun around in my chair, averting my eyes from hers.

Right then, fortune granted me a miracle, and Almira announced, with a cute giggle, that she needed to go to the bathroom and would be back in a moment. For once I was happy that the closest bathrooms weren't close at all, so I'd have another few minutes to gather my senses. Almira's tits, and my thoughts of my face buried between them, had taken almost complete control of both my mind and my body. It was all I could do not to stuff my hand down my pants. There was obviously no way I could function as her teacher at this time. I had to catch a grip. And then there was another miracle. The phone rang, and the departmental secretary engaged me in a typically boring conversation about some matter or other, one that lasted well past Almira's return. Long enough, anyway, to leave me fully deflated.

And disappointed. Saying she had something she had to do, Almira quickly gathered her things and stuffed them into the small, pink backpack she always seemed to carry with her. With a sudden "See you Thursday!" she was out the door, leaving me sitting in my chair and wondering what had just happened. My wonderment would only increase when I looked over where her bag had been to see a small white lump. A lump that, on closer examination, revealed itself to be a small, white, silk lump. A small white silk thong, in fact. The crotch of which was not just damp but soaked. Before I could so much as consider, let alone assimilate, the situation in which I found myself, I put that wet crotch to my nose and inhaled the scent of Almira's young pussy. My cock sprang immediately back to life, and I dropped to my knees, pulled my dick out of my jeans, and started fucking what I imagined to be Almira's tight little twat as I wrapped her panties around my cock. I doubt I lasted even thirty seconds before, with the vision of her naked tits before me, stream after stream of hot cum erupted into the smooth fabric that only minutes before had covered her sweet smelling pussy.

* * *

Almira was in class on Thursday, sitting in the front, as usual. Nothing seemed remotely out of the ordinary, and I might have forgotten entirely about what had happened two days before, except for the fact that I'd masturbated several times since thinking about it. I was so out of sorts that I'd made a point of wearing briefs to work that day, which I almost never do, just in case seeing Almira in class made me hard. Fortunately, the concentration required to lecture took my mind off her, and I didn't have that problem, though I did find it very difficult to keep from looking at her tits as my eyes scanned the classroom. I found myself wondering if I'd ever again see the lovely nipples at which I'd stolen too quick a gaze in my office.

When class was over, I left quickly for the bathroom, as I often do, my morning's coffee having completely made its way through me in the hour I'd been lecturing. Back at my office, I found Almira at my door.

"I'm sorry, Almira," I said. "I have to meet a grad student now, but if you...."

"Can I talk to you for just a minute?"

"OK," I said, "but we'll have to stop when he gets here."

"OK," she said, following me into the room and closing the door.

"Sit down," I said.

"I think I left something here the other day," she said, still standing.

Nearly choking, I sputtered a "What?" and tried my best to act causal. I don't think it worked.

"Did you find anything here after I left?"

"No," I lied, stuttering in my most unconvincing fashion. "I didn't."

"That's OK. It's not that important, really. Thanks." And with that she turned, paused, turned again, winked at me, and finally left the office.

I was shaking. She knew damn well that she'd left her underwear here, and she knew just as well that I'd found it. One might've thought that, having left her panties, she'd have just let them go. It's not like they were made of gold or something. Though, come to think of it, they were worth their weight in gold as far as I was concerned. I walked over to my door and quickly locked it, knowing I had only a moment to myself before the grad student in question arrived.

I opened the bottom drawer to my desk and yanked out the crap lying in the back, uncovering the ancient diskette box that I'd used to bury my treasure. But a knock at the door brought me back to my senses before I had a chance to go any farther.

* * *

After Paul left, I sat down to check my email, and what should I find by a note from Almira. Her dorm was holding their semi-annual student-faculty dinner the next night, and she was wondering if I'd be her guest. With my wife out of town, I had no other sort of obligation, and so I immediately wrote back and accepted.

We met at my office. I'd dressed a little nicer than I usually would to teach, and she'd dressed a lot nicer than she ever did for class. A golden dress fell breezily off her left shoulder, cupping her small breasts and caressing her slim hips before falling just past her knees, rising back up over her other hip and encasing her right shoulder in a flourish of silk. It was clear enough that she wasn't wearing anything under that dress on top, and my already racing mind was hoping she wasn't wearing anything under it on the bottom either.

The dinner itself was fairly uneventful, as these things usually are. Conversation tends to be quite stilted, as the students assume we professors haven't any life whatsoever. Entertainment was pretty good, though, as Almira's house had an outstanding a capella gospel group, who put on an excellent show. But of course, the greatest excitement of the night was the odd flash of tit as Almira leaned over to eat, confirming, much to my delight, that she indeed wasn't wearing a bra.

We talked about her background, and mine, and it was comfortable enough, without exactly being easy. The age difference was as obvious as my arousal would have been had I had to stand. But I found her not only to be brighter than I'd supposed from the work she'd done for me, but amusing and playful, as well. It was a great pleasure to meet a student who not only wasn't intimidated by me but who clearly enjoyed knowing that she had managed to turn the tables. She was in control, she knew it, and she liked it. There were all kinds of references, probably half real and half imagined, to masturbation. It seemed as if she were going out of her way to use the word 'hard' on every possible occasion, though it wasn't as if she were emphasizing it. She was too subtle for that. Very, very good at what she was doing, which was teasing the hell out of me.

When the meal was over, we put on our coats, and she walked me to the door of her dorm in silence. As we reached the door, I turned toward her, only to find that she had already taken my hand in hers, saying, "I hope you have a very special evening." I meant to ask her what that meant, but before I'd figured out exactly how to do so, she smiled at me and walked quietly though quickly away.

It was only when I reached into my jacket and felt the unmistakably moist softness of her silk panties that I understood. I made an instant decision to stop at the office on the way back to my car to pick up the other panties I'd left there, intending to masturbate at home with both pairs. By the time I got to the office, though, even the very light friction generated by walking had me on the verge of orgasm. I closed to door, knelt down in front of the small trash can next to my desk, and furiously yanked my dick to orgasm in all of ten seconds.

***

As horny as I was, that wasn't about to stop me from masturbating again at home, with both pairs of panties, as planned. I lay on the bed with the old pair wrapped around my cock, and the new pair held up to my face, so I could luxuriate in the lascivious aroma of Almira's wet, soaked, sopping, horny cunt. I was dying to taste her, and did, sucking what I could out of the crotch.

* * *

I had no idea what to make of these events. Obviously, Almira knew what she was doing. Or had some idea what she was doing, anyway. But I certainly couldn't afford to make any move in her direction myself. If she wanted to leave her panties in my jacket pocket, that was her business. But she was still my student.

* * *

Temptation visited Monday, when Almira arrived late at my office hours with some more questions. It was comforting that she was serious about the course and that she still felt she could come to me for help.

After Almira finished asking her questions, she asked me if she could ask me something else. I just looked at her. "Did you find your present?" I really didn't know what to say, so I just smiled.

"Did you like it?" she asked.

"Yes, Almira, I did, thank you." Now she smiled, which put me at ease somehow. "I liked it a lot," I added.

"I'm so glad, Professor Cook."

"I told you at dinner that you should call me 'Bill'," I reminded her.

"Yes, Bill, but I'd like to call you 'Professor Cook' right now."

The odd way she put that finally made me understand. I don't know why---I guess I'm just a doofus sometimes---but it hadn't previously occurred to me that Almira had some big fantasy about teachers or professors or something along those lines. But her strange remark brought me to my senses at last. So somehow, through all of that, I had a quick moment of inspiration and responded, "That's fine, then, Ms Rossini." It was clearly the right thing to say. Her eyes were immediately ablaze, and a new kind of intensity seemed to fill the room.

"Did you sniff my panties, Professor Cook?" she breathed. I just nodded and felt my cock starting to get really hard. "Did you like the way my panties smelled?"

"I did, Ms Rossini." She almost jumped with those words. "Your panties smelled very, very nice. They smelled like they had been word by a woman who had been dripping juices into her panties all night long."

"I had been dripping all night long, Professor. I'd been looking at you sneaking peeks down my shirt, and knowing what I was going to do. Putting my panties into your pocket, and all the while dreaming about what you were going to do with them." She leaned forward on her chair. "Dreaming about how you were going to sniff my panties and rub your hard cock with them. Did my dream come true? Did it, Professor Cook?"

I could barely speak at this point. "It did, Ms Rossini. It did come true."

"And did you sniff my panties all the time you were playing with yourself? Did you sniff them while your cock spurted its own juices, Professor Cook?"

"Yes, Ms Rossini, I did."

"Oh my God!" she blurted out, seemingly losing her composure. Her hand dropped quickly, and seemingly involuntarily, to her crotch, and she gave herself a quick squeeze before she seemed to realize what she was doing and pulled her had back away. She just sat there and looked at me intently, as if she were trying to figure out what to do now that she no longer controlled the situation in the way she but a moment ago. I just squirmed a bit in my chair, trying to adjust myself without reaching down.

"Show me," she finally said. "I want to see you squirt in my panties."

"They're a little crusty now, I'm afraid," I said, clearly not having a clue.

"Not those, silly," she laughed. "These." And with that, she stood up quickly, reached up under her dress, and pulled off a silver-gray pair of silk bikini panties, the same kind as the other two I'd been given. "They're good and wet for you." She paused. "Professor."

I just sat there, staring at her. She looked amazing. She was wearing a longish black dress with a somewhat narrow skirt and small buttons up the front to a high neck. The top was fitted tightly to her body, accenting her small breasts. It wasn't dressy, but it was definitely a cut above what she usually wore, and it highlighted her thin waist. She smiled, but I was still speechless and could only smile back.

"Please? Oh, please, Professor? Please show me." She was pleading, and I couldn't have resisted her request even I if had the willpower.

"OK, Al...I mean, Ms Rossini. I'll show you. But there's something you have to show me, too." She sort of shrugged, as if to say she was game. "I need to see your breasts for real, and not just down your shirt."

"You liked that, did you?" she said mischievously, smiling a naughty grin and letting me know she knew what effect she'd had on me. She reached up and cupped her tits with both her hands. "But are you sure you want to see these little things?"

"Quite sure, Ms Rossini."

"OK. You can see them. But only after you get yourself started."

I started to get up, then thought I'd better say something. "Do you mind if I move over to the couch?" She was sitting, as before, in the armchair, and I was proposing to go over and sit almost right next to her. I wasn't sure if she would be comfortable with that.

"Is that where you usually do it?" she asked.

"I don't masturbate very often in the office, if that's what you mean." She nodded. "But when I do, yes, that is where I usually do it."

"Great!" she said. "I want you to do it just like you usually do."

I smiled, got up, and walked over. Standing just a few feet in front of her, I undid my belt, loosened my pants, slid them down to my thighs, and settled onto the couch. Almira let out a small moan as she saw the tent my cock was making in my boxers. I started to stroke myself lightly through them.

I was starting to feel a little bit nervous and need some company. "Your tits," I said.

Almira mouthed an "OK already" and slowly, slowly started to undo the buttons on the front of her dress, counting them as she went down. "One. Two." She pulled back the fabric to either side, revealing her incredibly smooth skin. "Three." I could see the straps of her bra on either side. "Four." And now the tops of the cups. "Five." Her nipples through the lace. "Six." The bottoms of the cups. "Seven." Her upper torso. "Eight. Nine." Her belly button. And with that, she threw her shoulders back, and in some kind of movement it seemed she must have practiced, more or less tossed the top of the dress behind her, leaving her in a sliver-gray bra that matched the panties that were sitting on the table between us.

"I'm surprised you're wearing a bra," I said. "You don't often seem to wear one."

"It fills out the top of this dress," she said, laughing again. "Sometimes my little boobies need help." I laughed now. It was nice that we were feeling so comfortable with one another.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"You look great." It was all I could think to say, but it brought another smile to her lips, and that was good enough. She went to take off the bra, but I stopped her. "Leave it on another minute or two." She just shrugged again. It was a movement that was quickly coming to seem characteristic of her.

I picked up her panties off the table and rubbed them over my stomach a little bit, just feeling their smooth softness. I ran them over my cock, through my boxers, and heard Almira moan softly again. Her eyes were fixed on my hand. Looking at her face, I set her panties on my stomach, looped my fingers under the elastic of my boxes, and slowly, deliberately pulled them down over my cock. That brought out a slightly louder gasp. I was very, very hard. And dripping.

I picked up her panties in my hand again and started as if to wrap them around my cock. But Almira interrupted me.

"Aren't you gong to sniff them?"

I looked at her sheepishly, feeling kind of embarrassed.

"Oh don't be so silly!" she scolded, and then jumped up off the chair, took her panties from my hand, and sat down next to me. The warmth of her body against mine made me shiver.

Almira brought her panties up to my face, saying, "Smell me, Professor. Sniff my panties like you did Friday night." Her voice was trembling, and so was I. I looked up at her as I inhaled her sweet scent. She looked down at my dick, which was now twitching with excitement. "You do like it!" she said with glee, and I just moaned as she held her panties up to her own face and sniffed. "I smell good today."

And with that, she handed her panties back to me, got back up, and returned to the armchair, sitting forward and looking at me intently.