Recovered memories [st8, M50’s/F19]

I’ll admit, I can’t remember if I fucked my professor or not.

Now, this all happened a really long time ago when I was in Uni.

But lately I’ve been having the strangest dreams about that time… They’re at all times the most intense after days I do yoga. They’ve been going on for awhile now and I wake up not sure if I’m remembering a dream or the dream of a dream.

I was nineteen. I don’t remember how old he was for sure, but I know he had kids a bit older than me.

I’m sorry, the details are sort of fuzzy! I’m just.. I wanted to get this off my chest, you know?

How do you even forget who you slept with? Did I block it out? I think back to those university days, and they’re fuzzy and incomplete. I alway chalked it up to my poor memory (… and the drinking. WOW did we drink a lot!)

Do you ever get the feeling when you wake up, and you’re caught halfway between being asleep and awake? Where the potential of what could be collides with the reality of what is and neither seem as solid as you wondered? When you wake up you exist in a sort of Schrödinger’s state where both realities MIGHT be true?
In those moments those dreams feel less like dreams and more like memories. And the more they keep happening, the more intensely real they feel. I’m losing my grip on what’s fantasy and what’s memory, like the dreams are rewriting what happened in my brain. Or, am I just finally remembering?

The dreams change a lot, but the core factors stay the same. There’s a professor. I’m a student. We both know what we’re up to, but nobody else does. Sometimes the dreams are just a feeling, a scrap of inconsequence of sitting in a lecture room where every chair is an armchair now. Subtext to a stress dream in which I’m taking a test I didn’t prepare for, or where I’m late for an event and I’m wearing the wrong clothes.
In those dreams I’ll catch a glimpse of him when I look up from the question I don’t find out and feel a rush of heat shoot through my stomach. A cheap thrill of knowing you’ve sunk to your knees for this man and nobody else in the room knows it.

In my favourite dream it’s a late class – the two hour super lecture that ended at 9pm. After class I would pop into the bathroom and stay there listening to everybody leave, and when I returned to the classroom a few minute later the halls would be empty.

Then he would usually lock the door and kiss me.

In one version, after a rough class that I could tell frustrated him, I came back to him and shut the door myself. I have only enough time to press the lock home before he’d caught me by my hair and forced me down over his desk, ass high and my cheek pressed to the cool wood. He’d unceremoniously yanked down my pants and panties, leaning down to groan against my ear his apology, a growled ‘I need you’ and then he was burying himself inside me. The intensity of his thrust makes me gasp, and I’m immediately pushing back against him. His fingers tangle in my hair and he’s gripping my waist as he pounds me roughly.
I woke up shaking, desperately fingering my already wet snatch to reach the same oblivion that just moments ago had been so close. I’m sure I can feel his breath on my neck still. It feels like a remembered bit of truth and not the fancy of my filthy mind.

In another dream he is catching my hand and dragging me into a supply closet, moments before classes are due to change. I’m surprised but thrilled.
There, I bite down on my hand as he sinks to his knees and buries his face between my legs. My back is pressed to the door and he’s lifting my knee to drape over his shoulder and I’m shaking as I hear other people walk past the paper thin walls, crowding the hallway with their bodies and their noise. I’m quivering as he expertly flicks his tongue over my clit, eyes closed with the effort to not cry out.
I overhear complaints about teachers and midterms as his thick fingers tease and penetrate, driving me insane.
When I wake I can’t think of anything else all day. I turn it over, relishing the feeling in my body. At work I slip away to discover my panties soaked through, an orgasm easy enough to discover there in that sterile bathroom by myself.

But I discover myself wondering. I was naturally a good student, the type to volunteer to clean the supply room or help out after class. I was the one who organized the class mixer, and I was the one who planned informal trivia nights of staff vs students. A teacher’s pet.
Nobody would have batted an eye to see me in a teacher’s car, or with the keys to their classroom. I was trusted by my peers and teachers alike.
So…it could have happened. The opportunity was there.
In a dream we are visiting the moon. This last part feels perfectly ordinary, though the details are more hazy than usual. Dream logic I suppose. The class is split up, we are all given tasks. It just so happens my job will be working closely with our instructor. An utter bore, and very tedious.
This is how I discover myself locked against him in some tiny room somewhere, his mouth as desperate as mine. It’s like we’ve been waiting forever, and yet it feels so familiar. He’s telling me he missed me, that all he could think about was touching me.
We can’t do more than this, there’s not enough time, but I feel the throbbing heat of his cock through his jeans and I groan openly. He chuckles at my lust, presses a kiss to my forehead and promises me, ‘soon’.

I reassure myself this is just fantasy. Surely I’d remember?.. But I also recall meetings with other admins, furrowed brows across tables. There’s a file folder, and I did end up transferring my last year. I’d told people for so long it was to be closer to family, maybe I just convinced myself of my own lie?
Or, maybe none of it ever happened and I just have an excellent imagination.
I’m not sure I can tell the difference anymore.

NSFW: yes

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