We Met In A Library-Ch. 8

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You would think with all the cumming I’ve been doing, I wouldn’t have wet dreams. Well, when you have as wild and horny dreams as me, it still happens. More often than I’d care to admit.After cleaning off quickly in the shower, and avoiding the towel-wrapped women in the communal sink area, I dash off to my first early morning class this semester. Over the past few weeks, I’d gotten used to a lazy schedule, but now that Professor Tachibana is back from her trip home, I’ll have to be up early Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.As usual, I’m the first person in class. I settle into the desk in the back left corner of the room, where I can observe the entire class. Browsing on my phone, I don’t look up as other students enter the room and take their seats. A dull murmur fills the room as the empty seats dwindle and I lose interest in anything I can find online.Professor Tachibana should be here by now, though the class seems ücreti elden alan escort content to chat and lounge in the room. Usually, someone wants to claim we can leave early if the Prof. isn’t there within the first fifteen minutes, but not today.I scan the room, noting a few cute faces, but you’re not here, and I don’t recognize anyone else at the moment. Resting my cheek on my fist, I watch the clock, bored, and wait.The hurried clack of heels on the polished cement floor echo in the hallway, slowly growing closer until a gorgeous Japanese woman bounces through the doorway.The classroom collectively gasps. Not just the guys, either.“Gomennasai! The train was late. That never happens in Japan.” Her hair is tied back in a tight knot behind her head, but wisps of dark hair stick to her temples and forehead with sweat.The class quiets ücreti elden alan gaziantep escort as she sets her purse on the desk and catches her breath, flattening the folds in her black pencil skirt so it stretches as low as it can. It barely reaches her mid-thigh. She tugs at the hem between her legs in front and back; the skirt having ridden up as she rushed to class. But that skirt isn’t hiding anything more, no matter how much she tries.I’ve never seen a professor dress like her, and from the strained whispers circulating through the students, I doubt they have either. I barely got a glimpse, but her strappy, black high heels can only be described as stilettos, and her skintight black blouse leaves about as much to the imagination as her mini skirt. Her top button fights valiantly, like Spiderman between two halves of ücreti elden alan gaziantep escort bayan a sinking ship, trying to hold back her ample breasts. There’s no way those are real.I hear a muffled sigh beside me and check from the corner of my eye. The guy at the desk there has a hand clamped over his crotch, his eyes glued to her chest. I smirk and look back at the whiteboard. This is going to be an interesting class.As much as I care about the subject matter, I struggle to focus on the words coming out of Professor Tachibana’s mouth. Every step around her desk as she speaks draws her skirt up a bit more. Her bosom bounces as each heel strikes the floor, and sways as she turns to speak and write on the board.I question whether she is really a professor, though adjunct, because she seems unused to her massive breasts erasing her lower writing as she stretches to mark the top of the board. I’m able to resist the urge to lean over and sneak a peek up her skirt, but over half the class can’t help themselves.For a moment, Tachibana Sensei, as she likes to be called, looks over her shoulder. No one is watching her eyes like me, so only I notice the sparkle in her eye and the slight blush that paints her cheeks. As she turns her head back to the board, she locks eyes with me. She doesn’t falter in her speech, but for an instant I know she’s examining me.

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