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My Professor Gave Me An Unforgettable Anatomy Lesson That Got Me Wet (full story)

My Professor Gave Me An Unforgettable Anatomy Lesson That Got Me Wet (full story)

I entered my second year of college thinking that I’d take the core anatomy class and have an easy term. Four weeks in, I was failing the class. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the subject; it was that Professor Wilson had this distracting way of turning his back to the class when he explained a subject.

You see, he had the best ass of any man I’d seen. When he paced back and forth in front of the class, I couldn’t help but think of reaching out and grabbing him—just to see what it felt like beneath my nails.

One morning, after watching him pace, I faced the return of my midterm. Wilson pointed his finger to the red “F” in the top corner. “I want to see you this week about this.”

****

“Wait right here. He’ll come in after his class.”

His assistant let me in his office five minutes early. I sat in the chair closest to the desk, books in my lap, and pencil tucked behind my ear, before my attention landed on a medical type statue of a nude man on the bookshelf.

“Good evening, Miss Lawson.” Professor Wilson said as he opened, and then closed the door behind him. “Thank you for meeting with me so quickly.”

I glanced away from the faux cock, crossed my legs and tucked my skirt down. “No problem. Sorry about the midterm.”

“You don’t owe me an apology. I just hoped I could offer some assistance. I would really like to see you pass this class.” He smiled and slipped off his blazer, draping it neatly over his chair. The smile made him look younger. “I just don’t understand what seems to be the problem. Is it my teaching methods?”

I glanced down. “Oh, no. Not at all.” I let my finger trace the lettering on my textbook, trying not to notice that he moved to prop against the front of his desk.

“Then what is it? I’d like to help.”

I still didn’t look up. “Um…Well, I just have a problem remembering.”

“The proper names for the anatomy do seem to be a problem. Is there anything else?”

“No. I think that’s it.”

“Alright then. We can fix that little problem. All you need is a way to make the information stick. Correct?”

Something in his voice changed. I glanced, up to see his mischievous smile. “Yeah. I think so.”

“I have just the thing. Stand up, please.”

I stood slowly, holding my books close, until he reached out and took them.

“We won’t need these for now.”

He placed them on the desk and stood, his body so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him. “We’re going to play a game that I learned in college. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, which is what makes all the information stick. Alright?”

I nodded. I could see his bulge against the front of his khakis. Professor Wilson wasn’t one of those teachers that all the girls knew tried to get in students’ pants. So, I was kind of flattered.

“Okay, I’m going to point to an area of the body and say the name of the part. Then, you repeat it.”

I nodded as his hand touched my upper arm.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I tried not to sound breathy. “Go ahead.”

“Bicep.”

I repeated the word, and the others as he worked along my arm and fingers, each touch making me tingle. Finally, he laid his hand flat against the bare flesh that peaked out of the white button up I was wearing.

“Sternum.”

I shuddered and repeated before he slid his hand down in a line, the warmth of his skin soaking through my shirt. “Internal Obliques.”

I said it, and then his hand moved to the side of my waist. “External Obliques.”

My words came out heavy, and my nipples ached for him to touch them.

His hand slid down to my hip. “Gluteus Medius.”

I craved him, to have him rip off my clothes and take me, right there on the desk. I wanted to lick my way down the chest that peaked out from his shirt. But I didn’t touch him. Instead, I repeated the words.

He leaned in as his hand slid down to my thigh, touching bare skin. My knees wavered and he slipped one arm around my waist to catch me. That sexy, wonderful smirk said he knew exactly what he was doing. “Quadriceps, Miss Lawson.”

“Quadriceps.”

He slid his hand inside, under my skirt, and the warmth of him touched the front of my panties. He pressed against that most responsive place, pulling a gasp from me. Then, he tugged me in close to him so that his breath was fiery against my neck. “Labia Majora.”

I whispered the word back to him as he slipped his hand inside the cloth. His fingers pushed gently down the front, then into the slit. I shook when they found the moist spot and spread me so that his palm could push against my throbbing center. “Labia Minora.”

I gripped his shoulder and closed my eyes, repeating the word in half breaths. My body flexed where his fingers should have been.

He began to slide his hand away, then stopped to let his fingers play over my button. I leaned my face against him, muffling a moan as he gave it a long, slow rub. “Clitoris.”

I tried not to cry out. Wouldn’t he lose his job if his assistant walked in on us?

He slipped two fingers inside me, stroking me until he brought me in waves of pleasure My body quaked in his arms, and then brought me in a rhythm that matched his stroke.

His hand moved away slowly and his lips placed a chaste kiss on my forehead. “So, practice these terms alone for the week and we’ll meet again next Thursday—for a more in-depth lesson?”

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