cross-posted from: https://lemmynsfw.com/post/20313498

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Emily whispered, her breath hot against my ear as I pushed the door to Professor Calloway’s office open. The dim light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, and the scent of old books and something faintly musky—like cologne—hung in the air. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

This is insane, I thought, but the thrill of it was intoxicating. We were supposed to be studying for midterms, not sneaking into his office after hours like some kind of cliché college fantasy. But then again, nothing about Professor Calloway felt cliché. He wasn’t just handsome; he was magnetic. Tall, with dark hair that always looked perfectly tousled, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you. Every lecture felt like a private conversation, like he was speaking only to you. And tonight, it felt like he was expecting us.

“Come in,” his voice was low, smooth, and slightly amused, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all semester. His chair creaked as he leaned back, those impossibly blue eyes flickering between me and Emily. “I wondered how long it would take for you two to work up the courage.”

Emily let out a nervous giggle, her hand tightening around mine. She’s just as flustered as I am, I realized. We’d talked about this for weeks, ever since that night at the bar when we’d both confessed to our little crushes on him. It had started as a joke—what if he noticed us? What if he wanted us?—but somewhere along the way, it stopped being funny. It became a fantasy we couldn’t shake.

And now, here we were. Standing in his office, feeling like schoolgirls caught in some forbidden act. Except we were the ones who’d sought him out.

Professor Calloway stood, his tailored shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, and took a step toward us. “You know, most students come to my office hours to talk about grades,” he said, his lips curving into a smirk. “But I have a feeling this isn’t about your essays.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “No,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not.”

He chuckled, and the sound sent shivers down my spine. “Good. Because I’ve been watching you two all semester. Waiting. Wondering if you’d ever… act on what we all know is there.”

My stomach flipped. He’s been watching us? The thought made me feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet… incredibly turned on. Emily squeezed my hand again, and I could feel her trembling beside me. She was just as affected by him as I was. Maybe more.

Professor Calloway closed the distance between us, his presence overwhelming. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his fingertips lingering against my cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “Both of you.”

I didn’t know who moved first—me, Emily, or him—but suddenly, everything shifted. His lips crashed against mine, warm and demanding, and I melted into him. Emily pressed herself against my side, her hands sliding over my hips, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The three of us became a tangled mess of hands and mouths, each touch sparking something wild and electric inside me.

“Do you want this?” Professor Calloway asked, pulling back just enough to look at us. His voice was rough, edged with desire, and it sent a jolt of heat straight through me. “Because once we start, there’s no going back.”

I glanced at Emily, and she nodded, her eyes wide and dark with need. “Yes,” I breathed, the word barely audible. “We want this.”

---

Let me rewind a little, because I know how this sounds. How it looks. A professor and two of his students? It’s the kind of scandal that makes headlines, the kind of thing people whisper about behind closed doors. But it didn’t start that way. At least, not for me.

It began innocently enough. Freshman year, first semester, Introduction to Literature with Professor Calloway. He walked into the lecture hall on the first day, and the entire room fell silent. Not because he demanded it—he didn’t. But because there was something about him that commanded attention. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was captivating. His voice, his confidence, the way he talked about books like they were alive—it was impossible not to be drawn to him.

For weeks, I told myself it was just a crush. Harmless. Normal. Everyone had one on him, didn’t they? But then came the study group. Emily and I had ended up sitting next to each other during one of his lectures, and we hit it off immediately. She was bubbly, outgoing, and had a wicked sense of humor that kept me laughing even when the material got dense. We started meeting outside of class to study, and somehow, inevitably, the topic of Professor Calloway came up.

“Okay, don’t judge me,” she’d said one night, leaning across the table at the library, “but have you ever, you know, fantasized about him?”

I’d nearly choked on my coffee. “What? No! I mean… maybe? God, okay, yes. Is that bad?”

Emily grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Not at all. In fact, it’s kind of perfect.”

That was the moment everything changed. From then on, every time we met, the conversation drifted back to him. What it would be like to kiss him. To touch him. To feel his hands on us. It started as a joke, but the more we talked about it, the more real it felt. And the more we wanted it.

Then came the bar. It was a Friday night, and we’d both had a bit too much wine. We were tipsy, giggly, and completely uninhibited. Someone—I don’t even remember who—brought him up again, and before I knew it, we were making a plan. A ridiculous, impossible plan to invite him out with us. Just to see what would happen.

To our surprise, he said yes. And that night, over drinks and laughter, something shifted. The way he looked at us, the way he touched our arms casually as he spoke—it wasn’t just friendly anymore. There was an undercurrent of something else. Something darker. Hotter.

By the end of the night, I was drunk on more than just alcohol. On him. On the possibility of him. And when Emily and I stumbled back to her dorm, we couldn’t stop talking about it. About him. About what we wanted.

Which brings us back to now. To his office. To the way his hands are roaming over my body, his lips tracing a line down my neck while Emily kisses me with a hunger that matches my own. It’s overwhelming, dizzying, and I can’t think straight. All I know is that I don’t want it to stop.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice sending another wave of heat through me. “Say it.”

“I want you,” I gasp, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “Both of you.”

Emily moans softly, her hand sliding between my legs, and I arch into her touch. Professor Calloway chuckles, low and dark, and pulls back just enough to look at us. “Good answer,” he says, his eyes blazing with something that makes my stomach clench. “Now show me.”

The air in Professor Calloway’s office was thick with heat, the kind that clung to your skin and made it impossible to think of anything but this. His hands were still on me, calloused fingers tracing patterns that left me shivering. Emily was relentless, her lips soft but demanding, her touch urgent. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began—and I didn’t want to.

“You’re perfect,” Professor Calloway murmured, his voice a rumble against my ear. “Both of you.” He pulled back just enough to look at us, his dark eyes flicking between Emily and me. There was something predatory in his gaze, something that made my stomach twist in the best possible way.

Emily’s hand slipped under the hem of my skirt, her fingers brushing against me in a way that made me gasp. “Tell us what you want,” she whispered, her breath hot against my neck. “Exactly what you want.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could speak, there was a sharp knock on the door. We froze. My heart leapt into my throat, and for a moment, I thought it might be over. But then Professor Calloway smirked, like he’d been expecting this all along.

“Come in,” he called, his voice steady and commanding.

The door creaked open, and two figures stepped inside. It was Sarah and Mia, two other students from our class. My stomach dropped. This was supposed to be private. But the way they looked at us—wide-eyed but curious, their cheeks flushed—told me they weren’t here by accident.

Professor Calloway didn’t miss a beat. “Ladies,” he said, his tone smooth and inviting. “Join us.”

Sarah hesitated, biting her lip. She was the quieter one, always sitting in the back row with her notebook clutched tightly to her chest. But now, her eyes were locked on us, and there was no mistaking the hunger in her gaze. Mia, on the other hand, grinned like she’d just won the lottery. She had always been bold, unapologetically confident, and tonight was no exception.

“We, uh… heard noises,” Mia said, her voice teasing. “Thought we’d see if you needed any help.”

Professor Calloway chuckled, low and deep. “How thoughtful of you.” He reached out, curling a finger toward them. “Don’t be shy.”

They exchanged a glance, and then, almost in unison, they stepped closer. The room felt smaller now, the energy shifting as they took in the scene. Sarah’s hands fidgeted at her sides, but her eyes never left us. Mia, ever the daring one, slid her jacket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“You don’t have to watch,” Professor Calloway said, his voice dripping with suggestion. “Not unless you want to.”

Mia laughed, a breathy sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I don’t plan on just watching.”

She closed the distance between us, her hips swaying with every step. Without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed me, her lips soft but insistent. I melted into her, my hands tangling in her hair as she deepened the kiss. Behind me, I felt Emily press closer, her hands roaming over my body as if claiming me.

When Mia finally pulled away, she turned to Professor Calloway, her grin widening. “Your turn,” she said, and then she was kissing him, her arms looping around his neck. He groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her waist like he couldn’t get enough.

Sarah watched for a moment longer, her breath coming faster now. Then, like she’d made up her mind, she stepped forward. Her hands trembled as she reached for Emily, who turned to her with a smile. “Hey,” Emily said, her voice soft. “It’s okay.”

Sarah nodded, her cheeks flushing darker as Emily leaned in to kiss her. It was tentative at first, exploratory, but it didn’t take long for her to relax. Emily had that effect on people—she made you feel safe, even in the most intense moments.

As the four of us came together, the room seemed to dissolve around us. There were no more desks, no more textbooks, no more rules. There was only this: the heat of skin against skin, the sounds of our mingled breaths, the overwhelming sensation of being wanted.

Professor Calloway broke away from Mia long enough to look at us, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice rough with desire. “All of you?”

I nodded, unable to form words. Emily moaned her agreement, her lips trailing down Sarah’s neck. Mia laughed, low and sultry, as she reached for me again. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” she said, her fingers tugging at the buttons of my blouse.

Clothes fell away quickly after that, pooling on the floor in a tangled mess. The cool air pricked at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat coursing through me. Professor Calloway’s hands were everywhere, his touch electric as he guided us. When he pushed me onto the desk, I didn’t resist. My back hit the surface, and I gasped as Emily climbed up beside me.

“Watch us,” she whispered to Sarah and Mia, her voice trembling with anticipation. “Learn what he likes.”

Mia didn’t need to be told twice. She straddled Professor Calloway, her hands running over his chest as she leaned down to kiss him. Sarah lingered near the edge, her eyes wide as she took everything in. But when Emily reached for her, pulling her closer, she didn’t hesitate.

“What about…” Sarah started, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m not… you know…”

Professor Calloway looked up at her, his expression softening. “Not what?” he asked gently.

“On birth control,” she admitted, her face turning crimson.

He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “Then we’ll make sure you get exactly what you want,” he said. “But only if you say it.”

Sarah swallowed hard, her eyes darting between us. Then, in a voice so quiet I almost missed it, she said, “I want you to… finish inside me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Mia let out a soft laugh, her fingers trailing down Sarah’s arm. “Bold choice,” she teased. “I like it.”

Professor Calloway’s smile widened, and he pulled Sarah closer. “Then that’s what you’ll get,” he promised, his voice dark with promise.

The tension in the room snapped like a rubber band, and suddenly, we were moving again, each of us finding our place in this chaotic, beautiful mess. Emily’s lips found mine, her tongue sliding against me as Mia pressed close behind her. Sarah’s hands trembled as she reached for Professor Calloway, her breath hitching as he guided her onto the desk beside me.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Sarah nodded, her eyes wide but determined. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”

And then he was moving, his body pressing against hers with a deliberate slowness that made my own chest ache. Sarah’s breath caught, her back arching as she adjusted to him. Emily’s hand found mine, our fingers intertwining as we watched them together.

Mia leaned down, her lips brushing against my ear. “Think you can handle me next?” she asked, her voice teasing but laced with heat.

Before I could answer, she was already climbing onto the desk, her body sliding against mine in a way that made me forget how to…