Professor Kitty
First day of class and I knew it was gonna suck. The teacher was a bitch. Not bad to look at, still kinda young, but stuck-up, mean, boring and tough. I think she must have been right out of grad school because she still expected college students to do work. It was going to be a long semester.
I couldn’t drop because I needed the credit to graduate and this was the only open section that fit my schedule. I had to pass. When I went down front to hand in my sheet that explained the classes I’d miss because of away games, I could tell by the way she looked at me she was one of those women who hated lacrosse players, who hated fraternity brothers, who hated men. I was thinking about how many class periods I could get away with skipping when she made a point of how saying attendance and class participation were mandatory, with no excuses.
The first week was brutal. We actually had to read. She called on people. They had to answer. I had to buy the book. She was a dictator.
As I said, she wouldn’t have been a bad looking woman, except that she dressed in unflattering and conservative academic wear, her hair an unattractive bob with straight bangs. I couldn’t tell if she had curves or not, her outfits did nothing for her. The classroom had no windows, and it was steeply sloped like a theater, with the whiteboard it front, so we were all looking down at the instructor and she was looking up at us. There was no window for me look out of. I tried to sneak a glance at my phone, but the teacher had a strict no devices policy. Whenever I fell asleep she called on me. Sometimes I could look down the back of the pants on the girl in front me. Her desk was a row below me, and depending on what she wore her butt crack or panties might be showing. Other than that, all I could do was look at my textbook. It was going to be brutal.
Funny things was, after the first week or so, things started to get better. Maybe Ms. Professor Dictator was starting to loosen up. It was subtle at first. Her clothing style changed. She assigned less reading. She stopped giving quizzes. After a month or so, the class had become easy, and I actually found myself getting a bit turned on by the teacher. She started to dress really hot.
It was like she didn’t know what she was doing. One day, she wore a very low cut top, showing a lot of cleavage. Turns out she did have breasts after all. Because of the theater-like configuration of the room, we were all in a prime position to look down her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra. On top of that, she kept on putting herself into positions that gave her bosom ample opportunities to hang open and show us her tits. What a trip! It was almost like she was flashing us.
Another day, she came to class in yoga pants. Now, it’s fairly common for women of her age to be seen wearing those ultra tight, ass clinging yoga pants, only college professors usually don’t have them on when they teach. I swear. She was exhibiting distinct camel toe. And from behind, as everyone could see when she turned to write on the board, the pants didn’t just cling to the crack of her ass (and it was a nice, round ass, for someone with a PhD), they were pretty much see-thru. I had to get a picture. Under her tight, transparent yoga pants the teacher had on a pair of low-rise Hello Kitty panties! I got out my phone and snapped a pic. What a trip!
And then there was the mini skirt day. Was this what it was like in the old days, like in the ’60’s? Turns out she had nice legs. She’d reach up to write high on the whiteboard, and her underwear would show. She’d drop her sharpie, and bend over to pick it up, giving us all an up-skirt peek. She certainly liked those Hello Kitty panties.
I began to notice that during class she seemed to look repeatedly in my direction. Every so often, she’d be staring right at me, mesmerized, like she couldn’t stop gazing at me, her mouth open slightly, like she had to catch her breath. And then I realized it wasn’t me. She was looking directly behind me at the girl whose desk was one step up.
To tell you the truth, I had never given this girl a second look. She was a freshman, a mousey little thing with dark hair and glasses. She wasn’t a stunner. In fact, she was pretty plain. I did notice that she always wore a skirt. Why was the teacher always looking at this girl?
One day I noticed the teacher seemed flustered and confused in class. She arrived wearing low-rise, skinny black jeans, and as the class progressed I sensed that she was becoming increasingly embarrassed and self-conscious about her outfit. She was wearing the kind of jeans that rode low on her hips and slipped down to show her butt crack. I could see how she was constantly trying to pull them up, becoming more and more uncomfortable, and when she wrote on the whiteboard everyone could see she ass crack creep out.
All class she kept on glancing anxiously up my way, and when I turned I realized the mousey girl behind me was absent. By the end of the class, the teacher was again a real bitch and assigned a shit load of reading and scheduled a quiz for next class.
Next class, however, she mysteriously cancelled the quiz. She had come dressed in her old unflattering teacher clothes, but as class went on she started to unbutton her blouse, showing off her cleavage. We were doing some poem, and as she stood in front of the class reading it she started to pay a lot of attention to all the sexual innuendo in the text. Her breath got all husky and she seemed flushed. I couldn’t believe it! I even thought I saw her rub her hand briefly against her crotch! All the time she was looking my way. I turned and saw that the mousey girl was back in class, and she had a wicked grin on her face.
The instructor ended class early, rushing out of the room. No homework. Sweet!
I finally figured out a bit of what was going on in the next class, although I don’t really understand it.
The teacher showed up dressed like a Japanese schoolgirl, cute bow in her hair, knee socks, short, pleated skirt, the works. I could see the Hello kitty panties when she bent over to reach into her book bag on the floor.
Right before the teacher started her lecture, I walked down to the front of the class to turn in an assignment (late, but who cares). Walking back up the steps I happened to glance over to where the little mousey girl was sitting. I couldn’t believe it! She was sitting with her skirt hiked up, her knees apart and her legs spread open, and she wasn’t wearing underwear! She was giving anyone looking up at her a tasty, primo beaver shot of her naked hairy pussy!
Back in my seat, I realized that the teacher couldn’t keep her eyes off the mousey girl’s exposed cunt. Unreal! What an effing trip!
After class, I ran to catch up with the miss mousey pussy to find up what was the deal with her beaver flashing.
She tried to ignore me, hurrying into the library, trying to lose me in the Starbucks line (really, the Starbucks was the only reason I ever went into the library). I caught up with her, bought a Venti, and followed her back outside. When she stopped to light a cigarette I confronted her.
“What do want, frat boy?” she spat at me, surly, taking a long drag on her Camel and blowing it out.
“Hey, I just want to know how you do it.”
“Do what?” she snapped.
“You know, with your, uh, your bikini area.” I realized I had never taken a good look at her. Dark hair, dark eyebrows, black nail polish, dark lipstick, skinny unshaved leg, she looked like some kind of petite, Goth hippy chick. I don’t think she had anything of interest in the way of tits. And she smelled like cigarettes and patchouli. I though I was getting a dose of that in class. That explains it. I usually have a good nose for pussy, but with all her patchouli scent, that’s how I missed her legs being spread open a few feet from the back of my head.
“Oh, yeah,” she sniffed, “You mean what I did to Professor King. I hypnotized her with my cunt.”
“No way!”
She snorted. “You don’t believe me?” She had taken out her phone and was doing something with it.
“No, no, no—I mean, well, how? How can having her stare at your pussy make her do stuff.”
“I don’t know how it works. It just does. It’s is a gift.” She laughed. “What’s it to you? You wanna look at my cunt too.”
“No, no—I mean, well, I don’t know. That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure, you guys are all alike,” she hissed.
I don’t know why she had to be like that. She wasn’t my type at all. Although, if I was drunk and she was at a party and other guys were on top of her and she wasn’t saying no, sure, I suppose I’d join in.
“Wait,” she said, “let’s see of this gets you hard.”
She took her phone, lifted her skirt with one hand, and held down her phone to take a close-up picture of her naked hairy pussy.
“What in the world!” I said.
“I have to text it to Professor King. The power of my cunt has her under my spell, but it doesn’t last very long. I have to refresh it throughout the day. She craves it, she needs to gaze upon it, to worship it, she longs to kiss to it, but if too much time passes the effect starts to wear off. I was sick last week and let her slip back a bit. But I’ve got her now. I can make her do anything I want.” She smiled wickedly.
“But why? I mean, it’s cool and all, but why her? Can you do it to anyone?”
She looked closely at me. “I don’t know why I should tell you, but if you want to know, I have to be careful about how I pick and how I deal with my victims. With Professor King (her first name is Katherine, but I call her Kitty) it’s about getting back at her. She failed my roommate last term, completely unfairly. Also, I want an A in her class.”
“Man! What are you going to do to her?”
“What am I going to do to her? I going to humiliate her, completely and abjectly degrade her, and then see how she likes it when her life falls apart. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but my roommate missed a lot classes and got way behind in her work after the way you boys treated her at one of your parties. Like me, she’s just a freshman. She didn’t know what she was getting into. You guys are like sharks.”
“Hey, sorry about your friend, but it wasn’t me.” At least I hoped it wasn’t me.
“Well, whatever, you’re all alike. And Professor you-know-the-requirements-it’s-all-on-the-syllabus didn’t show one ounce of compassion. She failed her, without seeming to care. Well, she’ll find out what it’s like soon enough.”
This girl’s story was getting me kind of horny. I had to look down for a minute and drink my coffee.
The weird mousey girl looked hard at me.
“Hey, I know you’re getting a hard-on. I can tell. And I can tell that when I make Professor Kitty show her panties in class you get excited. I sit right behind you. Oh, another thing, no one wants to see your hairy butt crack. At least I don’t want to see it. Wear a belt.”
She was kind of making me feel a bit embarrassed. I drank my coffee. Suddenly she flicked away her cigarette.
“Hey, I think you can help me. Maybe you might even get to use that hard-on you have for Professor Kitty. I need to humiliate her, but there’s only so much I can do while the semester’s going on and not risk getting her fired. I need to get an A, so I have to let her finish teaching the class. But after finals are over, she’s going to get it, and get it in a big way.”
I was puzzled.
“How do you control her?”
“I don’t know. With my mind I guess. I give her ideas. Whenever she sees my pussy, she wants it. By now, she’s just aching for it. Even as we’re talking out here, I know she’s in her office looking at the picture that I just texted her on her phone and pleasuring herself with her hand, imagining that she’s on her knees in front of me, her head buried in my bush, kissing me down there, using her tongue, tasting me, licking me.”
I found I was getting hard again. I took another long drink of coffee.
“Every day I make sure she’s primed. I give her glimpses. She’s dying to have her face in my pussy. I’ll tease her and tease her. Promise her soon, very soon, and then—. I’ll have disappeared, and she’ll be left in a vey embarrassing situation.”
She stopped and turned to look at me.
“Your frat has a big party after exams, right?”
“Damn right we do. And I’m graduating. There’ll be a massive party.”
The strange mousey pussy girl leaned in close to me and began to whisper. “What if Professor Kitty came to your party? What if she came dressed in something really skimpy, really slutty? What if she got really drunk? What if she stripped? What if she was there to entertain all you boys?”
I was out of coffee. My hard-on was pressing up past the elastic of my briefs.
“What if everyone saw her, late the next morning, doing her walk of shame across the quad, naked and dripping and utterly humiliated?”
I said I would most definitely help to achieve that goal. The girl even said she’d get me a B+ in the class. Sweet!
I got up to walk back to my frat, taking a few awkward seconds to adjust my dick in my pants.
“Oh” she said, “One more thing.”
I turned and saw that she had lifted her skirt. I stared straight into her dark furry crotch, seeing how the lips of her vagina were beginning to yawn open. Wow, if I could just get a—.
She suddenly lowered her skirt and gave me a mischievous smile before she turned away and disappeared.