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Sleep With My Professor Novel Cover

Sleep With My Professor

Professor Edmend’s unexpected leather and t-shirt attire shatters my perception of him as a rigid, rule-following academic. Stimulated by his provocative ideas, I find myself in a state of growing arousal, clutching at my semi-erect cock beneath my lifted shirt. The stark contrast between his formal classroom persona and this raw reality emboldens me. Driven by an intense physical desire, I finally voice the direct, scandalous question: "You want to fuck, Professor?"
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Chapter 7

I reached into my underwear while lifting my t-shirt to my belly button, clutching at the semi-erect cock that was only partially awake due to Professor Edmend's ideas. I had no idea the dude wore t-shirts or leather. His formal teaching attire gave off the impression that he was a rigid adherent to the rules.

The question "You want to fuck?" I tried other words I may have uttered to him in a whisper. You wish to take care of my cat's requirements completely?

I needed a lot of things. After responding to a job posting, I started playing with kittens. I first found the concept of dressing up weird, but after everything started to come together, I started to enjoy wearing clothing and my ears. I had seen so many various outfits that I could put on, but the maid's attire was more of a uniform.

I stuck my tongue out to the atmosphere. I had been working on my tongue roll. I stroked down my chin with my free hand, which had become a loose fist that resembled a paw as I rubbed it on my face. This was the feeling I needed. This was the feeling I was looking for. It quieted the chatter in my head.

I often hoped I might have found someone from the Manor, but it was against the rules to stay outside the Manor. And even though most of the aspects of me that were still inside of me wanted to come out, I didn't want my last month of college to alter how other people saw me.

"Can I lick you?" you asked. I mumbled while allowing my tongue to flick and roll. "Just a taste will do."

I could picture the face of Professor Edmend. I was unable to let it go. I wasn't hanging onto it; it was just fixed in place, like if someone had superglued a board with his face on it, making it impossible to rip down. But I didn't care since I needed him now. Now, my dick desired him.

He wasn't the kind of guy I usually dated. My typical kind would love my body and implore me to spend the night. However, the forbidden aspect of having feelings for Professor Edmend made me feel strongly.

I was prepared for him to give me instructions in his stern voice.

Be mindful. His voice, with its piercing, cracking tones, appeared in my voice. Nice kitten.

I said, "That's right," with a pant. I'm a decent kitty. In an effort to pull my pants down, my toes curled and grabbed at the hem. 'I'm great,' I say. I wanted someone else to be in charge for a change. I yearned to beg and give my possessions to someone else. But because I wasn't going to go find my instructor to pique my newfound interest, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Visit me, kitty.

I arrived while still in my underpants and throwing my cock. My underwear's fabric was pumped with cum, which gathered there. I kept trying to prevent the remainder of the sperm from rising by tightening my palm around the shaft of my cock.

In my post-nut moment of clarity, I regretted my approach. It was almost repulsive to think of Professor Edmend and the things he had said to me at this point.

I quickly took off my clothes and wrapped a towel around my waist before grabbing my caddy and going to the shower room. I saw myself in the mirrors when the shower room was deserted. My high school wrestling experience along with swimming have given me my lean body and big shoulders. Both my skin and some fading tooth scars had red imprints on them.

Those guys wanted to fuck me so bad. For a little moment, my ego was content. I wasn't blaming them. I would want to fuck myself too if I were me. As usual, I wasn't paying attention when I was informed that the swim team wanted clean shaven athletes to be more aerodynamic. I got a glimpse of the hair on my chest.

I kept my shampoo, conditioner, soaps, and gels in my shower caddy. then the cream for hair removal. Nobody wanted razor burn or lumps on their skin, particularly since they spent the most of the time in Speedos.

I proceeded even lower south and used a little amount of the hair removal cream on my hole after finishing my process and applying it. I was a top, therefore I never shaved my hole.

Normally, I would leave the cream on for five minutes, but after two minutes, it started to burn my hole. As the burning sensation had me in its grip, I yelped. With all of my might, I backed my ass up as the ice-cold water sprayed out of the nozzle, rapidly chilling it.

Hair strands streamed down my legs. I dragged my hand through my hole. No hair was present. And the burning was all gone. My cheeks were pinched tightly. A brand-new unusual sensation, yet I was strangely intrigued to investigate it more.

I carefully inserted a finger after pressing it on my grip. I immediately started to withdraw. I said, "Maybe another time," as I slid my body under the water of the shower, allowing it to wash the hair remover off the remainder of my body.

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