Head Over Heels
By J.M. Christopher
She was a goddess. At least, she should have been. She could have been Aphrodite in human form. Her beauty was indescribable and she had pretty much taken me in the first time she walked into my classroom.
I teach the Freshman Seminar Class at a northern four-year college. So, I get to see what many of the students call “fresh meat” each and every semester. I’d been teaching there for about ten years, and had pretty much gotten used to seeing all the fresh, young 18 and 19 year olds, away from home for the first time, both excited and nervous not having mommy and daddy around to tell them what to do.
Yeah, I was attracted to many of the girls, and in my younger days had even dated and bedded some of them, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight of that vixen when she walked into the room on the first day of the fall semester.
It was my afternoon class, and she walked in wearing her cheerleading uniform. Practice must have been right after my class was over and she’d decided it was easier than rushing to change. Maybe it was the outfit that first made me notice her, or maybe it was because she wasn’t quite five feet tall. It left her stomach exposed and that short skirt left little to the imagination. The girl could have walked into my room wearing a bikini and I might have been less aroused by the sight of her.
I taught my lesson, giving my twenty or so students the rundown of what they could expect from my class, but all throughout my eyes kept wandering over to my goddess. Her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, the way her stomach sucked in when she giggled at my jokes, how she inadvertently displayed her cheerleading panties to me every time she switched positions—it was enough to drive even a gay man insane with lust.
After class had ended, I began packing my things up to head home. Most of the class had left, but I was aware of the presence of someone behind me. The faint scent of jasmine reached my nostrils, and as I turned around, I saw my petite cheerleader leaning over my desk.
“What can I do for you, Miss…?” I began to ask, then realized I didn’t even know her name.
“Nicole… well, Nikki,” she said.
Oh God, even her voice was sexy. It was high enough for her to still sound really young, but it had a hint of a throatiness in it that made her all woman. I really had to have this girl and the sooner the better.
“I’m Professor Smithson,” I told her, not knowing what else I could possibly say. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Not much. I was just wondering how much work this class is going to have.” She backed up so I could see her whole body and quickly waved her hands over her outfit. “Like you can see, I’m a cheerleader, and it’s going to be hard keeping up with everything.”
I wanted to tell her what she could do to guarantee herself an A in my class, but I didn’t think it would be a prudent option—not yet anyway. “Well, you’ll have to keep up with the work, just like everyone else. I can’t show favoritism.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just want to see if I could get some help if I fell behind.”
Every fantasy I’d ever had about any of my students ran through my head in that second. I pictured Nikki coming to my office one evening, wearing her cheerleading uniform with the top unzipped just slightly so I could see her full breasts underneath, complaining that she was failing my class.
“You’ll just have to work harder,” I’d tell her.
“There must be something I can do,” she’d say in a seductive voice. “Don’t you give extra credit?” Then she’d bend over and let me see a bit of her cleavage.
“No,” I’d say. “Extra credit isn’t something I usually give.”
“Really?” she’d ask me. Then she’d really lean over me. “I’d do anything.”
“Anything?” I’d ask her as if I had no idea what she was talking about, even though my thoughts would be
By J.M. Christopher
She was a goddess. At least, she should have been. She could have been Aphrodite in human form. Her beauty was indescribable and she had pretty much taken me in the first time she walked into my classroom.
I teach the Freshman Seminar Class at a northern four-year college. So, I get to see what many of the students call “fresh meat” each and every semester. I’d been teaching there for about ten years, and had pretty much gotten used to seeing all the fresh, young 18 and 19 year olds, away from home for the first time, both excited and nervous not having mommy and daddy around to tell them what to do.
Yeah, I was attracted to many of the girls, and in my younger days had even dated and bedded some of them, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight of that vixen when she walked into the room on the first day of the fall semester.
It was my afternoon class, and she walked in wearing her cheerleading uniform. Practice must have been right after my class was over and she’d decided it was easier than rushing to change. Maybe it was the outfit that first made me notice her, or maybe it was because she wasn’t quite five feet tall. It left her stomach exposed and that short skirt left little to the imagination. The girl could have walked into my room wearing a bikini and I might have been less aroused by the sight of her.
I taught my lesson, giving my twenty or so students the rundown of what they could expect from my class, but all throughout my eyes kept wandering over to my goddess. Her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, the way her stomach sucked in when she giggled at my jokes, how she inadvertently displayed her cheerleading panties to me every time she switched positions—it was enough to drive even a gay man insane with lust.
After class had ended, I began packing my things up to head home. Most of the class had left, but I was aware of the presence of someone behind me. The faint scent of jasmine reached my nostrils, and as I turned around, I saw my petite cheerleader leaning over my desk.
“What can I do for you, Miss…?” I began to ask, then realized I didn’t even know her name.
“Nicole… well, Nikki,” she said.
Oh God, even her voice was sexy. It was high enough for her to still sound really young, but it had a hint of a throatiness in it that made her all woman. I really had to have this girl and the sooner the better.
“I’m Professor Smithson,” I told her, not knowing what else I could possibly say. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Not much. I was just wondering how much work this class is going to have.” She backed up so I could see her whole body and quickly waved her hands over her outfit. “Like you can see, I’m a cheerleader, and it’s going to be hard keeping up with everything.”
I wanted to tell her what she could do to guarantee herself an A in my class, but I didn’t think it would be a prudent option—not yet anyway. “Well, you’ll have to keep up with the work, just like everyone else. I can’t show favoritism.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just want to see if I could get some help if I fell behind.”
Every fantasy I’d ever had about any of my students ran through my head in that second. I pictured Nikki coming to my office one evening, wearing her cheerleading uniform with the top unzipped just slightly so I could see her full breasts underneath, complaining that she was failing my class.
“You’ll just have to work harder,” I’d tell her.
“There must be something I can do,” she’d say in a seductive voice. “Don’t you give extra credit?” Then she’d bend over and let me see a bit of her cleavage.
“No,” I’d say. “Extra credit isn’t something I usually give.”
“Really?” she’d ask me. Then she’d really lean over me. “I’d do anything.”
“Anything?” I’d ask her as if I had no idea what she was talking about, even though my thoughts would be
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