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As a freshman at a large university, I was just trying to navigate my way through my classes and discover some kind of social life. I had at all times been a bit of a goody-two-shoes, but something about the freedom of being away from home and surrounded by new people made me want to explore a little bit.

Enter Professor Grant Scott.

Nearing forty, he was the epitome of a tall, dark, and handsome man. His chiseled jawline was accented by a hint of stubble, and his deep brown eyes seemed to catch me every time he spoke during our lectures. And boy, was he clever. It was almost as if he spoke a different language than the rest of us. But something about the way he seemed to look at me made my heart race.

It started with small interactions. A smile and a nod as he passed me in the hallways, or the occasional note on my papers congratulating me on my work. But as time went on, our conversations got longer, and I found myself seeking out his office hours simply to spend more time with him.

I knew it was wrong. He was my professor, and I was just a student. But there was something about the forbidden nature of it all that made everything that much more exciting. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to feel his lips on mine, or to have his hands on my body.

It wasn’t long before our conversations started to get a little bit more personal. He asked me about my interests outside of college, and I told him about my love for art and music. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, and I couldn’t help but feel like there was a deeper connection there.

One day, after a particularly long conversation about everything from our favorite bands to our upbringing, he leaned in closer to me and whispered, “You know, I’m not supposed to say this, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something between us.”

My heart raced. Had he really just said what I wondered he said? Before I had a chance to respond, he continued, “I shouldn’t be saying any of this. You’re my student, and I know we can’t pursue anything. But I just can’t help but want to explore this connection with you.”

In that moment, all of my inhibitions flew out the window. I leaned closer to him and whispered, “I want to explore it too.”

From that moment on, our interactions became more intense. Every time I saw him, my heart raced, my body yearned for him. We would discover secluded corners of the campus to talk, or sometimes just sit in comfortable silence.

It wasn’t long before our conversations turned to something more. One day, he kissed me. It was everything I had imagined and more. His lips were soft and full, and the way he pulled me closer made me feel like I was floating.

From that moment on, we couldn’t get enough of each other. We would sneak off to hidden spots around the campus to kiss and caress each other. Sometimes, we would skip class altogether and stay in his office, exploring each other’s bodies.

The thrill of it all made everything feel even more passionate. We knew that what we were doing was wrong, but we couldn’t stop.

One day, things came to a head. We were in his office, so wrapped up in each other that we hadn’t even heard the door open. When we finally turned around, there was the dean, staring at us in shock and horror.

In that moment, everything came crashing down. My grades plummeted, and Grant was suspended indefinitely. I felt like I had lost everything.

Months went by without any contact from Grant, until one day, he called me. His voice was husky and thick with emotion as he told me that he had never stopped thinking about me. In that moment, everything came flooding back. The passion, the connection, the love.

We made plans to meet at a nearby hotel room that weekend. When I opened the door, my breath caught in my throat. He was just as handsome as ever, but with a new urgency in his eyes.

We didn’t speak as we kissed, tearing each other’s clothes off like we couldn’t get close enough. The feeling of his skin against mine was electric, and I couldn’t help but moan as he entered me.

It was like nothing I had ever felt before. His movements were slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment of our time together. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, until finally, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I came with a scream, and he followed shortly after.

We lay there for what felt like hours, just holding each other and basking in the afterglow. It wasn’t until the sun started to set that we finally got dressed and headed back to the real world.

It wasn’t long before we were caught again. But this time, it didn’t matter. We knew we couldn’t keep sneaking around like we had been. We had to face the consequences and hope that somehow, we could make it work.

Looking back on it all now, I know that what we had was both gorgeous and forbidden. It was a lesson in passion and desire, and I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.
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