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Did you ever hear that song by the Police, "Don't stand so close
to me", well what I am about to tell you is a story very similar. The
only difference being that there he intended to take advantage of the
innocent. This is what happened.

Being a normal college freshman I noticed men. Several virile
young men had tried to get to me. But just as in high school, I
dated and experimented but still wanted to meet the right man before
having sex. I wanted to meet someone mature, educated, and debaunaire.
This imaginary man in my mind was perfect in every way. I would stare into
the darkness before falling to sleep at night fantasizing about the way
I would meet him and when! I had no idea that it was to be soon...

My major was psychology and behavioral studies, I was fascinated
with people's behavior and wanted to understand why we are all so
different. I wondered most about peoples desires. However, it seemed
my professors were more concerned with endlessly lecturing about the
basics of psychology and its founders...we never really talked about
why people were different.

Today was like every other day, the students were herded
into the lecture hall and eventually settled down into the old wooden
seats. After the class was finally quiet, we waited for the professor
to show...it was a good ten minutes before his substitute arrived.
He sauntered into the room with a confident gait and stood at the podium.
Immediately, his eyes caught mine. They commanded my attention, it was
unbelievable. Was he looking at me? He couldn't be...there are over
120 people in this hall, he must just be looking blindly out into the
crowd. During the whole lecture I didn't hear a word, my mind jumped
into a fantasy of me and the substitute rolling around in the slide room
adjacent to the lecture hall. I was truly shocked by the potentency of
this daydream...usually I concentrated on my work and saved the fantasies
for the cover of nightfall. I slid down in my seat and unconsciously,
let my knees move outward. My face was getting warm and my privates began
to throb. I nervously looked side to side to see if anyone noticed but
they didn't. I looked straight at the professor again only to find him
still staring at me while he talked. There was a ringing in my ears that
wouldn't go away and my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my
chest. How could he do all this with just a stare?

When the class concluded, I tried to slip out with the crowd,
but he caught my arm as I went by and pulled me aside.

"You look a little flushed my dear, are you alright?" He inquired
with those peircing eyes.

"I..I'm fine...just a little warm in here."

"Isn't that strange how some people would say it is warm in here
and others say it is cool. It's all a matter of perception, don't you
think?"

Suddenly, I felt comfortable again and eager to continue this
conversation. "Yes, I have always felt that perception of a situation
can manipulate the senses." A smile crept across his face and he started
walking out the door after the last of the class had trickled out. I
continued to walk and talk with him.

The conversation we held was excellent! I really enjoyed the way
he played devil's advocate and got me to answer my own questions. We
agreed on many things, one of which is why people have different sexual
preferences. We discussed how some women love bondage and some men want
to be handled gently. We talked about the way people's bodies respond
to certain stimulei. It was really interesting! Here I was talking, really
talking about all the issues I was curious about and getting answers. I
was so involved I didn't realize that he was getting me to tell him my
own desires and preferences.

We walked into an office. At this point I had no idea where I was.
These corridors are so winding and endless. I assumed in was in the
basement because there were no windows and it was fairly dark. In the
conversation he had explained that he was a visiting professor doing re-
search on sexual behavior. So I thought nothing of the stacks of porno-
graphy scattered around the room or the sculptures of naked women either.
He bade me to sit down a relax. I sat in the antique velvet chair and felt
its plushness against my bare legs exposed by my short skirt. Looking
around the room, I noticed it had a romantic air to it. There were many
antiques and the colors were mainly orange, red and peach. Very earthy.
We talked more but I could tell the conversation was winding down. He sat
across the desk from me with one hand on the blotter and the other out of
sight. The chair was very comfortable but I found myself shifting often
to feel the velvet moving along my inner thighs. I didn't want to
leave ...everything was going so well and I was happy and strangely
excited.

When I had said the last of what I knew on the subject, I decided
to ask him about his desires. That should get at least 10 minutes more talk.

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"Before I leave, I've got one more question for you. What do you
like best about sex? As soon as it left my lips I knew I had crossed that
line between professor and student. No longer was I talking in the third
person to him. I bit my lip in embarassment and prepared myself to be
thrown out.

Instead he pushed his chair back and laughed. The whole time he
had been stroking himself. There he was with his pants unzipped widely
and his hand was wrapped tightly around his penis. "Funny you should ask,
I was just about to tell you." I was shocked and should have left but I
couldn't stop staring at him. He was like the visions I had dreamed of
and I wanted to stay. Calmly, he motioned for me to go over to him, but
I couldn't get up. My brain was trying to get me to leave and my sex was
trying to convince me to go over to him, consequently I didn't move. He
got and walked around the desk, pulling up his pants but not zipping them.
I thought he was going to walk over to me and I tensed up in anticipation
and fear, but instead he turned on some soft music. Very clinically, he
knelt on the part of the floor with the shag rug and took out his manhood
again. He then explained that pleasure should not be feared and he was
glad I understood that. He thought my reaction was very mature.

While starting to stroke himself once again he talked about his
research on technique and named each one he used. It was fascinating
how he knew so many! He also mentioned there were quite a few for women
as well. I inquired about them and he motioned for me to kneel with him.
I wanted to live up to my mature image so I knelt facing him. He told me
to first find which zones were the most sensitive, so I put my hand up my
skirt. My panties were soaked! I had been wet since the class and appar-
ently had remained wet through the conversation...god this guy was hot!

I wanted to undress him and reveal his chest, I wanted to kiss
him and feel the strength of his tongue but I did as he instructed instead.
As I ran my fingers over my pubic area I learned that he was right...some
areas sent a tingle through me while others screamed "pleasure zone!". I
found much to my surprise that my lips were extremely sensitive, especially
the part that isn't exposed but is instead folded over in toward the vagina.
Admist my self-discovery came curiousity, what was he doing. I looked
across and saw him staring as he did in the class room with no emotion
other than interest. He seemed very concentrated on what we were doing and
didn't let himself get caught up in the passion that I was fighting to
stay "mature". I found that watching him stroke himself while I was
rubbing my lips excited me two-fold. He said that was a combination
arousal. Then he sounded proud of my progress and signaled we were to move
on to the next step. Before I knew what was happening he was behind me,
moving his cock into me slowly and then rougher. The roughness was
physically pleasing but it emotionally it scared me...I was having sex with
my professor! Quickly, he repositioned himself without ever disconnecting.
Now I was on top of him and he was looking straight into my eyes. A calm-
ness came over me and I was once again enjoying the pleasure. It was
like his wonderful, deep eyes freed me from my worries. He grabbed my
breast with his mouth and I forgot what I was thinking for good.

For hours we rocked on each others hips and tried an infinite
number of positions. I was gasping for air after 3:00am! Finally, I
thought he was satified...he seemed insatiatable. He walked across the
room and put his hand to his head. It looked like he had a headache as
he squinted his eyes. I was physically unable to get up right away.
The next thing I knew the door was opening. In a panic, I grabbed my
clothes. His hand came down over mine and I dropped my clothes.

"You won't need those!" His tone was very commanding.

A girl a little older than me walked in the room. She too
had a short skirt on and a light blouse. He broke his eye contact
with me to establish it with her. His headache must have been ebbing
because he seemed more lively in more ways than one. Out of the clouds
in my mind came a realization. Whenever he looked into my eyes, I
didn't feel any emotion besides desire and pleasure. It was starting to
dawn on me that I was being controlled! How, Why? Had he been hyponot-
izing me or just playing on what I already desired. I had read about
this phenomenon before...where did I see it? No sooner had the answer
popped into my mind, then he turned his glance on me again. The thoughts
receded back into the clouds and my passion was renewed. Only this time,
my passion was not for him it was for her. He placed us next to each
other so we were both making eye contact with him and I felt an overwhelm-
ing urge to sandwich him in between us....

It is true that one can be a slave to their passions!