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Thank you, Professor Reeves

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You aren't sure what you're expecting when you walk into class at 3:57, 3 minutes shy of being late for your last class of the day. 'Just my luck,' you had thought when you signed up for classes the semester previous and got stuck with a class that ended at 5 at night. Even though the reviews for Professor Reeves were amazing when you went to look up the class, the fact it was so late still made you grumble every now and then.

When you walk inside and hear a steady buzz and observe a small group of people crowding around a built in island at the front of the room, you immediately put two and two together and realize Professor Reeves has already graded Wednesday's essays.

To be completely honest, you aren't feeling too great about the recent essay and know you'll probably get a low A at worse. You tug your backpack a little tighter over your shoulder and move to the island everyone is gathering around. "Fuck, I got a C, what about you?" Some guy with short blonde hair asks a small red-headed girl. "B, better than last week I guess." They mope off together and your anxiety grows just a tad bit more.

You eye the essays spread out before you and slyly look at the big red letters adorned on the top of each paper. You can't help but wince a little at the array of low grades. Your eyes turn away and begin to focus on finding your name.

And there it is in the very top right corner, barely covered by other papers. In big red ink, C stands out like a sore thumb.

Your eyes bulge and you frantically grab the paper, holding it up to your eyes as if staring at it harder will change the letter to an A. The sound of Professor Reeve's door opening makes you look up quickly, catching the dark eyes of the older, yet strikingly handsome man. You give him a questionable look and hold up your paper, pointing your index finger to the bright red mark.

He sighs and walks over to you and the other group of people still searching for theirs on the table. "Professor Reeves, what is this?" You ask in a hushed but urgent tone. "What can I say? Look around, all the grades are terrible. I didn't think the prompt was that difficult." The look of his own genuine disappointment mixed with confusion does something to your insides, stirring up your stomach a bit and you can't help the sudden flush of heat that rises to your cheeks.

Swallowing hard, you lower the paper and look away to avoid the deep eyes of the professor. "If you want, we can talk about it in my office after class?" He trails off a little bit, and for a moment you think you heard a suggestive tone behind the question.

You quickly glance back up to meet his eyes and your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden intensity in his eyes. Had his voice lowered too? You swallow once more, then swiftly nod your head wordlessly before turning around to grab your usual spot in the front.

Clapping his hands together, Professor Reeves begins class and immediately jumps into talking about where he figured the problem began when it came to understanding the essay's prompt.

You could care less about what he's saying. Fuck, you could care less about the fat C that stood out on your paper; the girl next to you had an F. Your mind is racing at the suggestive tone of going into the office and that intense stare.

You can't lie to yourself. You know you can't.

You know you and Professor Reeves have been flirting all semester.

The passionate discussions after class about the readings you'd done and the amusement that would rise in his eyes as he leaned back in one of the stiff chairs and watched you rant about why an excerpt lacked emotions or why a reading had blown you away with details.

The rare occasions he would ask you to help organize things in the office and every now and then drop a pencil or some paper just so you wound bend over to pick them up and put them back on his desk with rosy cheeks.

And how on earth could you forget the even rarer moments when the flirting skipped that entirely and went to full on teasing. It was true, you'd been bad sometimes and worn something to class a little more revealing or when he would pull his chair out from the office during tests and sit down right in the middle of the front of the classroom facing his students with his legs spread wide, thighs begging to be freed from tight work pants. God you knew how bad you wanted to undo the fucking belt and just start-

"I think it's bullshit he gave us a prompt defending why Jack was in the right for creating the separate group of hunters when it's obvious in the fucking book Simon is the only boy on the island with a moral compass," the girl next to you interrupts your hungry thoughts. Oh, right, Lord of the Flies.

"When you're trying to get a literature degree, I guess you have to be prepared to defend anything." You shrug, but your response is shallow as you catch eyes with Professor Reeves again and shift in your chair slightly. The wetness between your legs becomes suddenly apparent and you look away from his eyes as fast as you've caught them.

The class passes with extreme leisure, as if the clock is taking it's sweet ass time just to torment you. When the familiar sounds of people rustling to shove papers and laptops in their backpacks begins, Professor Reeves knowingly gives up on his sentence and reminds everyone of the reading for the night which you'll discuss in class on Friday. You slowly pack your own backpack and watch as everyone practically flees the room to go home and make dinner.

When the last person leaves and the heavy wooden door closes, you rise from your seat and walk over to the office where Professor Reeves is already waiting with one hand opening the door and the other hand leading the way in. He gives you a warm smile and all dirty, anxious thoughts fly out the window.

You walk inside more relaxed and take the usual seat on the left in front of his desk. 'Everything in here is so nice looking,' you think. It's exactly what you'd expect of some old ivy league English professor's office- book shelves covering the walls to the left and right with framed awards, pictures, and the college's crest handing on the wall directly behind the desk.

"Alright, essay conversation. Let's talk." He says happily, walking around to sit in the large rolling leather chair. You can't help but admire the slicked back black hair he's sporting today and the black button up; sleeves rolled to the elbows and lower half tucked into matching black dress pants, all of it finished up with a thin black leather belt and splash of silver on the buckle.

"I will admit, I expected a lot more from your essay. You're one of my top students." You blush at the compliment and slowly shrug. "It seems like a lot of people struggled with the topic. Everyone struggles sometimes, I suppose," you admit, picking you fingers lightly as you unknowingly avoid his eyes, "I'm sure the next prompt will be better."

Professor Reeves' eyebrows furrow together and he leans back in his chair. "That was the last prompt of the year..." He trails off in a tone that suggests you should've known that. Your stomach drops and your shoulders sag a little. "Well, fuck, there goes the 4.0." Realizing you've just sworn in front of him, your eyes widen and you stutter for words. "Oh, god, I'm sorry Professor Reeves, I didn't mean to say that."

He just laughs lightly and waves it off. "Relax, and I thought I told you a while ago I would prefer it if you call me Keanu." You smile a bit and relax in the chair again, recalling the two or three times he had asked you in the past to call him Keanu. It was an interesting name, and a fucking hot one at that.

"Is there any way I can maybe raise the essay up to a B then?" You ask hesitantly, hoping that with the way the conversation has gone, he may be willing to help you out. Keanu sighs, looks away in thought, and processes for a minute. When he looks back up at you, that intensity from earlier is in his eyes again. You swallow hard and it suddenly feels hot in the room.

The giant sky blue wool sweater isn't helping either and Jesus, was that facial hair always so attractive? "I think we can think of something." He says, low and steady in that deep voice. Your face is red. You know it. It's seriously hot in here and you know, deep down, that sweater is going to come off but it probably isn't going to be to cool down.

He suddenly stands up from the chair and begins to walk cooly to the front of the office. He passes you and grabs the office door- the sudden click that follows sends a jolt through your body and you know this is about to happen.

You're about to fuck your English professor.

He pauses there for a minute and without a moment's hesitation, you spring up from the chair you're sitting in and turn around just for him to grab you tightly and pull you to him. Your lips crash violently and it's a mess of hands for a solid ten seconds until your back is against the office door and your front is pressed flush against the professor.

His hands are everywhere it seems, one pressed tight against the small of your back and the other viscously groping your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze and your jaw drops in a low moan, enough for him to push his tongue inside of your mouth. It's hot and wet against your own tongue, but Jesus if the swapping of saliva wasn't making you just a little bit wetter. The hand on the small of your back moves to fist your hair into a tight hold.

Keanu tugs your head back to give him easier access to your mouth- he is 6'1 after all. Your hands feverishly grip his shoulders as his mouth assaults yours in reckless abandon. The hand on your ass slips rapidly to the underside of your thigh and with a squeak of surprise, you're hoisted up off the ground and your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist.

The hand in your hair has dropped again and now both hands support your thighs while your mouths continue to abuse each other. 'His lips are soft,' you think spontaneously. Your fingers weave into his long, slicked back hair and fuck it, the gel on your fingers oddly registers in your brain as something you want to lick off later. Stumbling backwards a little, Keanu moves you to his desk and drops you on your ass on the edge.

It's a hasty removal, your sweater, and he marvels for a few moments with heavy breath at the sight of your completely naked upper torso. Hey, you didn't think he'd be fucking you today. "Jesus Christ..." He breaths out before he quickly moves forward and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, the other nipple getting plenty of attention as his right hand cups your breast roughly and begins to roll the pink bud under the pad of his thumb.

You can't help but toss your head back in pleasure as you pant heavily, staring at the dull lights on the ceiling of his office. Your legs are wide open and he is positioned perfectly between them as he continues his attack on your chest. How the fuck does he know to suck on a nipple like that?

A breathy moan falls from your lips as he licks a fat circle around the nipple then nips it slightly with his teeth, the other hand flicking the dry nipple patiently waiting its own turn. "H...How the fuck do you know how to do this?" You question heavily, rolling your neck back down so you can stare at the wicked assault he's doing. His dark eyes met yours and you could've orgasmed on the spot with that look alone.

He drops your nipple from his mouth and kisses a wet trail to the other one, but before he gives it the attention it desires, he mutters, "I'm 54. I know what I'm doing." And with that, he dives into the hardened nipple. Another cry falls from your lips and your head falls back again, your hands wobbling as they strain to keep you upright.

They don't hold long though, the right hand inches back until it makes its way on top of one of the many papers on Keanu's desk. In a flash, your hands gave way and you fall flat on your back, objects across the desk clattering to the floor. You giggle in embarrassment and tried to get back up, the cold air meeting your wet nipples and instantly stiffening them again.

Professor Reeves just places a hand on your septum and pushes you back down with a tilted head and eyes that warn you to stay down. His hands grab your hips and in one fluid motion, you are flipped onto your stomach and bent square over the desk. A hiccup of shock leaves your throat followed promptly by a gasp as his fingers hook into the loops of your jeans and furiously tug them down to your ankles.

"Step out of these." He states in the usual husky voice which has just gotten ten times hotter in the past ten minutes. You do as he says, ignoring the fact that you are in nothing but underwear and he is still in his dress clothes.

You hear shuffling for a few seconds followed by what sounds like the clatter of shoes and you anxiously wait for his next move. His rough hands suddenly touch your ass and you shiver, extending your arms across the desk to lightly grasp the edge and prepare for his next action. "What are you waiting for?" You ask only to be met with a hard slap to the right cheek. You lurch forward with a small yelp and secretly relish in the sting.

"Jesus, a little warning mayb- oh!" You yelp as he gives you another slap, this time on the left cheek. "Keep talking and maybe I'll lower your grade." Keanu gives a low warning. You swallow hard and think for a minute. Would it really be that bad? You nod your head anyway and let the side of your face rest on the cool wood as the shuffle of fabric sounds and his hands are on either side of your ass.

Warm breath registers on the skin of your thighs and you realize he's squating down to be eye level with the current side of you bent completely over the desk. Hooking both index fingers on the waistband of your underwear, he slowly pulls them down and you can't help the heat that rises to your cheeks. You carefully step out of them when they've reached your ankles and Professor Reeves carelessly flings them to the side, landing in your view.

His calloused fingers wrap onto the inside of your thighs and with minimal effort, he spreads your legs apart and you let out a huff of anticipation mixed with embarrassment. "You're already wet for me, what a good teacher's pet you are." You mewl softly at the praise and grip the edge of the desk a little harder.

Keanu's hands move up again to your ass, but one hand stays behind to linger closer to the source of your wetness.

And then his thumb makes contact with the wet slit, carefully pushing in and sliding up to coat your clit with the very wetness you're producing. You let out a soft moan and close your eyes tightly as he begins to roll smooth, even circles into your clit. "Does that feel good?" He prompts. You nod your head rapidly and breath out a weak, "Yes, professor."

The other hand leaves your ass and finds it's way to your opening while the thumb belonging to the other hand picks up its pace on the smooth circles. And with a gentle push, the first finger is slowly burying itself into you. "You can be r-rough you know." You suddenly state, unaware the thought was even on your mind.

"Oh?" He questions in amusement. A small part of you wonders how literally he's going to take that; a large part of you doesn't give a fuck.

The clit rubbing is suddenly much faster and a second finger joins the first one inside of you, pushing in and out at a fair pace. He is right, though. He definitely knows what he's doing as every time he pushes the fingers inside, he curls the tips of them and sends a wave of pleasure through your body.

You can't help the whore-like moan of, "Professor Reeves!" slip through your lips and you grip the desk until your knuckles turn white. His paces only quicken and your lower half is teaming with pleasure and energy. You can feel your own wetness sliding down your thighs and you're mildly aware his hands are probably coated in your slick as well.

A new feeling registers- a light bite on your left ass cheek followed by slow kisses. The facial hair on his face scratches your skin but you love the feeling and even push yourself back onto it a little. Your legs are trembling as a slow heat is building in your stomach, one you're very familiar with. Professor Reeves seems to know it too as his fingers slide out and the thumb moves away, leaving you a panting mess with wetness coating the inside of your thighs.

Opening your eyes and looking slightly over your shoulder, you watch as he slips his index and middle fingers into his mouth to savor the taste of you for a few brief seconds. When he pulls them out, you can't help but stand and hastily begin to unbutton his black button-up. You need it off. You're desperate to not be the only one naked an on the edge of an orgasm.

He doesn't protest though, just stands there staring at you with dark eyes as you all but rip the shirt off of him and drop to your knees to begin unbuckling that fucking belt. You angrily tug it out from the loops and throw it to the side to rest with your underwear. And with a tug of your own, his dress pants are to his ankles and he tauntingly steps out of them for you.

Your eyes slowly rake upwards, making note of how fit your 54 year old English professor is and that he's staring down at you with intense eyes. The only thing that's left is his boxer briefs and a rush of anxiety floods your system as you grab the waistband and slowly dug them down, intentionally avoiding looking at his cock as you fling those to the side as well.

When you finally do look, your throat goes dry and all thoughts go out the window except for one: it's bigger than you expected.

Without a moment more, you grab the base of his hard length and push your head forward, slowly engulfing the tip of his cock into your mouth and continuing further. A long drawl of breath leaves Professor Reeves' lips and you know it's a content sound by the way his fingers knot into your hair and push you a little further.

You take as much of him as you can, one hand wrapped around the base to cover what you're missing and the other hand on the lower back of his thigh to brace yourself. Picking up a steady, medium pace, you feel a little more confident in your ability to give him a good blowjob and the little groans of pleasure falling from his mouth verify your feelings.

The hands in your hair tighten and you don't mind the twinge of pain- your only focus is taking in as much of him as you can. Your tongue swirls around his shaft like his dick is a fucking lollipop and whenever you reach the tip, you hollow your mouth to give just a bit more intensity. He hisses every time you do it, but by the way he's increasing your pace with his hands, you know he enjoys it.

His hand suddenly tightens greatly in your hair and he pulls you off with a huff, a thin trail of spit tethering your bottom lip and the tip of his dick together. You break it off when he pulls you to your feet and pushes you on your back on the desk, fitting himself in between your already open legs.

"Top drawer." Keanu states hoarsely and you immediately know what he's looking for. You fumble behind you and manage to push his top drawer out, fumbling more with your fingers until you find the small square package. Snatching it up, you quickly hand it to him and he tears the gold packaging with his teeth, hastily rolling the condom that comes out of it onto his length.

"Fucking hurry up." You push out of gritted teeth. He gives you stern eyes and grabs your legs, pushing them up and holding onto your thighs as you drape your calves over his shoulders. "You want it fast? Fine, I can do that." He remarks, removing one hand from your thigh so he can line himself up with your entrance.

You feel the slow stretch as he carefully pushes in, agonizingly slow. You throw your head back onto the desk and let out a high pitched moan as he buries himself into you as deep as he can go, a warm ache starting in the bottom of your stomach. "Good?" Keanu asks in enjoyment. "Fuck, yes." You agree; you've never felt so stretched in your life. "Great." He gives a mischievous grin, the pulls out just to the tip and slams back inside of you.

Your back arches off the table and your eyes go wide as the sudden and rapid pace of his thrusts spread fire through your veins. "Fuck!" You whine, throwing your hands behind you to grip the edge of the desk while his strong arms hold your thighs in place, a sure promise of no escape. "Not sure I like your language." He scolds, his nails digging into your thighs as he crams himself inside of you again and again- the tip of his cock grazing your bundle of nerves over and over again.

Your mouth is wide open with pleasure and you can't even think of anything to say. You know you're on the brink of orgasm, but who says you can't cum two or three times while he's fucking you? "God, professor!" You whine, pulling one of your hands to your mouth so you can bite the skin and try to hold back your moans.

The orgasm that wracks your body makes you arch your back once more and you're sure Keanu understands what has happened as a new wetness slides down your legs in creamy white. "Fuck that, I want to hear you." Professor Reeves growls, leaning forward to grab your wrist and pin it down by your head while you breathe harshly and recover from your climax.

He's completely draped over you, pounding into you with a pace you didn't even think was possible but he's fucking doing it. You open your lazy eyes and meet his furrowed ones, deep in concentration. A thin layer of sweat coats his tanned skin and the gelled hair he was once sporting now hangs around his face.

With a confidence of your own, you push yourselves up and he stumbles with the new position, quickly grabbing the underside of your thighs as you dig your fingers into his hair. The two of you stagger backwards but he manages to turn around, your back crashing into the office door as your mouths reconnect in feverish kissing.

His thrusts haven't stopped and your heels are digging into his bare back while the muscles in his arms bulge holding you up. You throw your head back and let out a loud moan of, "Keanu," which only prompts him to suck harshly on your neck. "Say it again." He snarls into your skin. "Keanu!" You cry. The English professor gives three particularly hard thrusts upwards and you yelp with each one, holding on for dear life as your legs quiver around him.

Recognizing both of your deteriorating conditions with this position, Keanu moves backwards but you're feeling cocky and manage to free yourself from him, his hard cock slipping out of you as easily as it was pumping in. With a push of your own, you thrust him onto the desk and he eagerly moves himself backward so his whole body takes up the space and only his calves are dangling off the edge.

You crawl on top of him and his eyes are filled with both amazement and hunger. "I think I deserve that A, Professor Reeves." You tease, stalking overtop of him until your hands are on either side of his head and he nods quickly, panting out, "I think you do, too." You grin and lean down to connect your lips together again as your hand reaches behind you and grabs his still throbbing length.

With a little guidance, you line him up with your hole once more and sink down easily, closing your eyes and moaning as he groans into your mouth as well. Your lips drop and your foreheads connect as his hands reach behind you can grab your ass roughly, urging you to move.

Starting your own fast pace of riding, you lean back and sit up, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. As you bounce up and down, his dick hitting the bundle of nerves deep inside of you at an even better angle this time, his hands grip your hips and his groans are just as loud as your mewls of pleasure.

You're ignoring the slight pain that comes from each bounce downward in your breasts as they bounce harshly with the rhythm; the only thing you care about right now is getting Keanu's dick as deep inside of you as you can.

The heat is building up in your stomach again and you know you're going to be close to cumming when his rough hand suddenly takes your throat, gentle but demanding. He's sitting up a little now, balancing on his forearm while he chokes you just enough.

His length is thick and filling inside of you and when he pulls himself forward all the way to suddenly hold you tightly against him, you know he's about to reach his climax as well. His mouth is on your nipple again while his hands are gripping your back and the little nips he gives your pink bud pushes you over the edge.

"Fuck, fuck, Professor!" You arch into him and grip his muscular arms as his mouth releases your nipple and buries into the skin of your neck instead. Your bounces stall and the dull twitching inside of you from his cock tells you he's just cum as well. Both of you are panting like mad and a sheen layer of sweat rests on both of you.

He slowly falls backwards, taking you with him as he wraps his arms around you and you collapse into his chest, matching his uneven breathing. His cock slowly slides out of you and the emptiness that follows is disappointing.

It's quite for a minute or two, but when he reaches into the open drawer and fumbles around, you know the silence is about to be broken. "Paper." He states dully through labored breathing. You lazily reach for you backpack still sitting beside the desk and rip the paper out from the top.

You slap it down on his chest and watch sluggishly as he holds up a red pen and bites the cap off using his teeth. His free hand finds the paper and he scratches out the bright red C, scribbling an A+ next to it. Keanu gently hands it back to you and throws the pen somewhere in the room. "Thank you, Professor." You breathe out, dully aware of the wetness sliding down your thighs. "Trust me, you deserve it. And fucking call me Keanu."