Somehow I managed to stay a virgin through my first semester of college, and I’m not sure how. I mean, I have some idea — the guys I’d met were awful. But I’m still amazed I didn’t let one of the trumpet players from school score with me during our marching band road trips. I played the clarinet, but I don’t want you to imagine me as the stereotypical marching band nerd with headgear and a complete lack of social skills. I’m cute and put-together, and I enjoy partying, dancing, and making out with random guys. I did all of that during my first semester at college for sure. But then the second semester rolled around, and I met the hottest man ever to exist. Well, at least to me.

He was my professor, of course.

James taught one of the required General Education classes, a seminar about European literature. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the classroom and realized our professor — assistant professor, non-tenure track, to be specific — was about 30 years old and smoking hot.

By smoking hot I mean extremely hot to me and potentially me alone. He was tall and wiry, with an excited demeanor and an adorable habit of talking with his hands. The thing that killed me, though, was how he dressed. He wore everything you might imagine a stodgy professor would: sweater vests, khakis and those old-fashioned blazers with suede patches on the elbows. I didn’t even realize that look was a fetish of mine until I found myself ogling him in argyle. But once I realized I was into the professorial look, I was gone.

Question: What does a horny coed do when she has the hots for her professor?

Answer: She goes to office hours.

So I did, carting my copy of “A Hero of Our Time” with me. To be honest, I didn’t really have any questions about the book. I just asked James to recommend other books with morally corrupt main characters, while I batted my eyelashes at him.

Maybe I should also mention I have big breasts, and I wore a shirt unbuttoned one button too far along with a plaid miniskirt that showed off my shapely legs. My hemline was dangerously high, and it was obvious to me he noticed. His eyes nervously checked out my bare thighs before he quickly brought his gaze back to my face, looking flushed.

As we talked about literature, a sensual tension slowly built between us. His eyes kept flicking down to my cleavage as I admired his sweater vest. When I crossed my legs, I saw him again sneak a peek at my upper thighs.

It was the successful beginning of my campaign to get laid — finally.

I attended his office hours almost every week. We talked about the books the class was reading for the course, but eventually we started talking about everything else. His tenure ambitions. My frustration with how much pressure the marching band put on my schedule. How much he liked coffee. My favorite places for vacation.

I was patient.

I felt like a spider luring some unsuspecting victim into my web. My virginity was of no use to me, and I desperately wanted to give it to someone worthy. James was the odd dreamboat professor of my fantasies, and I was sure from the way he looked at me that he’d thought about screwing me.

Things eventually came to a head just after midterms.

I’d aced the test, but I went to his office anyway — after his official hours — to plead my case. I wore the same naughty-schoolgirl outfit I’d worn on my first visit.

His eyes widened when he saw me walk through the door, and then his gaze flicked to the hem of my tiny miniskirt.

“What can I help you with today?” he asked cheerfully as I took a seat across from him.

I put on my best pout and said, “I just got my grade, and I’m not satisfied.”

He looked completely confused and replied, “You got a 100. What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said, uncrossing my legs and leaving them just open enough for him to think about what was between my thighs, “I want to know if there’s anything I can do to improve my score.”

Bless him, he was dense. James fidgeted in his chair, clutching his pen so tightly it looked like he might snap it in half.

“But how do you improve a perfect score?” he asked incredulously.

This was it. My moment had arrived. I stood and planted my hands on his desk, leaning over enough for him to get an eyeful of my generous tits.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I’d really like to try.”

He sucked in a sudden breath, and I knew he’d finally understood what I was offering. He looked a little sweet and helpless, staring at my cleavage and clearly debating in his head if screwing me was a risk he was willing to take.

Apparently, it was.

“I can think of one way to earn some extra credit,” he said, nearly choking on the words.

I had him. The fly was in my web.

I crossed around to the other side of his desk, shimmying between him and the pile of papers he’d been neglecting since my arrival. I hopped on his desk and let my thighs fall open again.

“Well, then,” I said, “please enlighten me.”

The wonderful thing about men who look nerdy is that you never really know what you’re going to get. Sure, some of them are actually dweebs who wouldn’t know where to go if you drew them a map. But perhaps just as often their geeky looks and mild manner cause the unaware to underestimate their actual prowess. Once James realized where my train was heading, he climbed right aboard.

He gripped my thighs and pushed my legs further apart. I hadn’t worn panties, and my skirt rode up to reveal my recently waxed pussy. He slid his hand up until his thumb met my cunt and began tracing over my clitoris with light strokes.

I moaned to encourage him and was gratified when he rubbed me harder. I was already wet before he touched me, just from thinking about what might happen between us. But his firm touch heightened my arousal even more. Soon, he was rubbing my clit with one hand and fingering my hole with the other.

“You’re a very bad girl,” he said, his voice breathy and deep.

“I know,” I said, rocking my hips to force his finger in and out of me at a more pleasing pace. “I’m incredibly naughty.”

Then James shoved my skirt even higher, rolled his chair closer to the desk and dove between my thighs. I sighed loudly as his lips landed on my cunt.

He was aggressive, licking me all over before focusing on my clitoris. I gasped and gripped his hair, tugging him tighter against me. I’d done this a few times with random hookups, but those had been college boys. James was a man who knew what he was doing. He ate me out enthusiastically, adjusting his technique when my moans and twitches told him he’d done something extra good.

“You’ve been tormenting me all semester,” he said, looking up from between my thighs. “Was that on purpose?”

“Of course,” I said, rocking my hips again to encourage him to continue.

He laughed and returned to his work, slipping two fingers into my cunt while he tongued my swollen nub. I writhed wildly, desperate for the building tension inside me to explode into the climax I’d been craving.

James curled his fingers inside me, hitting my G-spot just right. Overwhelmed by the feelings he was causing, I came hard, snapping my thighs around my professor’s ears as I squirmed on his desk. Piles of paper crashed to the floor, but he licked me until the orgasm subsided.

Then he stood from his chair and stepped between my thighs. Much to my delight, he was still fully clothed in a sweater vest and khakis, though his lips and chin were glistening. He had a fiery look in his eyes that thrilled me, and his erection strained against his pants. He unfastened his belt, tossing it aside before unzipping his fly and letting his khakis and underwear drop to the floor.

Damn, he had a good-looking cock. I’d previously seen a few in real life — just not one I really wanted to jump on. But James was surprisingly big for a man who looked so dweeby, and I wanted him between my thighs, jamming that beautiful dick into my hole.

Maybe it was bad of me, but I didn’t tell him I was a virgin. Lots of men act weird when they find out — they either fetishize it or refuse to sleep with you. So when he grabbed a condom from his wallet and slid it on, I just spread my legs wider for him and kept my secret.

Staring into my eyes, James started working that monster cock inside me. It wasn’t the most comfortable moment, but I’d just come super-hard, so I was as wet and relaxed as I would ever be. I rubbed my clitoris while he advanced, using those extra waves of pleasure to make myself even wetter. Soon, he was buried balls-deep and I could feel my pussy quivering around him.

“Is that good?” he asked, and I nodded, having troubling finding the words to describe what I was feeling.

That’s also when I realized we hadn’t even kissed yet, so I leaned in and sucked on his lower lip. He responded passionately, slipping his tongue into my mouth. He was an excellent kisser.

“It’s great,” I murmured against his lips, having finally found my voice. “But I’m still worried about my grade.”

James wrapped one arm around my lower back to steady me and braced his other hand on the desk, and then he started fucking me. And I mean fucking. His hips worked rhythmically, rocketing his cock in and out of me with deep, hard strokes. He kept the pace relatively slow, but it was still overwhelming for this first-timer. I’d never done this before, and the sensations were unreal. A little pain, but a lot more pleasure. I felt crammed full, and somehow I’d never guessed my cunt would feel so impossibly tight when a man finally screwed me.

I tipped my head back, staring up at the ceiling while he thrust into me with deep, even strokes. Even with the edge of pain — which was beginning to fade — I was immediately obsessed with how the act felt. I wrapped my legs around his waist and bucked against him, trying to chase the orgasm that was fast approaching.

James reached between us and rubbed my clit, and that did it. I came with a moan and a sense of triumph. After long wanting a lover and not having him, that climax was exactly what I needed.

My professor started pounding me hard, making his desk rattle and his phone tumble to the floor. Soon, he was groaning and shaking as he came.

“You’re a great student,” he said after a few minutes had passed with us doing nothing but gasping for breath. “A-plus, I’d say. You’ve more than earned that extra credit.”

I grinned at him, knowing I could have him whenever I wanted as I suggested, “Maybe we should schedule some special tutoring sessions.”