After a moment or two of gazing into his nervous, confused eyes, I added, "The only thing is, Dr.After a moment or two of gazing into his nervous, confused eyes, I added, "The only thing is, Dr. Sanders, I'm not being insincere. When I flirt, I don't fool around." He looked even more confused. "Listen, Miss M-----, ... I'm not sure ... I don't know what you're driving at here, but if you think ..." I cut him off before he could get himself worked up again. "What I'm driving at, Dr. Sanders ..." I said, pausing for dramatic emphasis as I slowly turned around and bent over, propping myself up by the arms of the chair behind me. Looking over my shoulder at him, I continued, "... is that I really think you'd like to get a look at my ass." As he gaped at me in disbelief, I took one hand and began to slowly massage my bottom through my shorts, "Now ... now Miss M----- ... I ... would you please ... I mean ..." He was totally flabbergasted. "Come on, Dr. Sanders," I cooed in a sultry voice, "we both know how much I've been turning you on since the semester started. Don't fight it. Just let yourself feel how aroused you're getting." "Now listen, Miss M----- ...," he said, struggling to keep the upper hand -- but failing. I just acted as if he hadn't said a word. I reached my hand into my elastic waitband and began to play with my butt underneath my shorts. "I know you've been fantasizing about me. I can tell," I said. "What part of me do you think about when you masturbate, Dr. Sanders?" I saw him look down with embarrassment for a second or two, which told me that my educated guess about him masturbating to fantasies about me was right on the mark. |