Miss Scott Part 1

All characters are over 18 yrs old, and all scenarios are consensual

I am sitting in the college cafeteria grabbing a quick coffee after the first psychology class in the third year of my degree. The class was about taboos in sexuality. I found the new professor, Miss Scott, intriguing and incredibly sexy; she seemed like an odd person to be teaching this subject.

I see Miss Scott entering the cafeteria, and I noticed she glanced over to where I am sitting while she is ordering. She is dressed in a tight black dress that hugs her very attractive figure. At a guess, I would say she was in her late 40s, maybe early 50s. She has long straight, black hair. She has a passing resemblance to Nigella Lawson, the British TV cook, although her breasts are not as large.

She looks over at me again and smiles. She takes her coffee and walks towards my table. Her black heels click-clack across the floor, audible above the hum of other students conversations. I look up at her and see her smiling. I can smell her perfume, Jasmine I think. She casually says,

"Hi, mind if I join you?"

"Erm, yeah, if you like."

She placed her tray down and slid into the chair across from me. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, looking at me with an intense, curious gaze.

"Thank you. It's always nice to find a quiet corner in this chaotic place. It's Russ, isn't it?"

Her gaze held mine, analysing me? She studied my expression like she was trying to read me.

"Yes, it's Russ. I'm in your psych 301 class."

"Yes, I know. I noticed you were quite attentive during today's lecture. I had a quick read of your second-year paper; it was incredibly insightful. It showed a real grasp of the subject and a maturity level much higher than your peers."

"I guess there was a lot to be attentive about," I said somewhat shyly.

She smiled.

"Indeed, there was."

She replied.

"We touched upon the societal constructs of shame and repression."

"Yes," I replied. "I think there is a shame and embarrassment in society around pleasure."

"Interesting," she replied. "Most students just nod along and accept what I say, themselves too embarrassed to fully engage with the topic."

"Society builds these rigid walls around what we consider 'acceptable' behaviors. Desires are usually classed as either 'normal' or 'deviant,' often without understanding the deep-seated psychological roots behind them."

I'm feeling uncomfortable in her presence, I can feel myself beginning to flush from the neck, with her attention solely on me. I feel like they are all watching the exchange between us, but a quick glance around shows no one is paying us any attention.

"But what is normal, or deviant? One person's deviancy is another's normal and vice versa. So who is to say what is right or wrong.

"Exactly! You've hit the nail on the head, Russ. From a clinical perspective, 'deviancy' is often just a label applied to anything that challenges the status quo or threatens the comfort of the majority."

She lowered her voice even further, making it a conspiratorial whisper that I had to lean forward towards her in order to hear.

"In my research, I've found that what many call 'deviant' is actually just a highly specific, deeply personal manifestation of desire."

"Do clinical perspectives really consider human emotion or desire or need, though?" I asked.

"That is a profound question and observation. They can, if we seek the right therapist." She said.

Her tone dropped into a deeper, more husky one.

"You're right. Clinical models often strip away the raw, pulsing reality of human experience in favor of sterile definitions."

"Pulsing human experience sounds interesting". I said, somewhat gobsmacked at my forwardness.

"It is incredibly interesting," she purred. "But I must admit, I was expecting you to be a bit more timid and reserved, not so forward and confident. "

"Sorry I stammered; I'm not usually this chatty."

"Really?" she asked

"Yes, I'm quite shy and quiet usually. You seem to get me to open up a bit; you are very easy to talk to. It must be your training." I said, trying to recover composure.

Suddenly I felt a foot touching my ankle; it slowly moved up my leg, stopping on the inside of my thigh.

"Because," she said, more forcefully, "beneath the surface of polite society, there is a constant, driving force, a pulsating desire, to not conform, to do what one desires and to hell with the consequences. Do you ever feel that force?"

As she finished her sentence, I felt her foot push gently into my groin; her toes wiggled, as if searching for me.

"Yeah, I've never really been very good at polite society," I replied.

"Hmm, society is full of leaders and followers, sheepdogs and sheep. What are you?"

"Probably a follower. I've never felt the need to lead; I prefer being driven to driving, if that makes sense?"

Shit, what did I just say? I feel the heat rise from my neck up onto my face, as the embarrassment kicks in at what I just said.

"You prefer to be driven, do you? And don't care about polite society, and yet your flushed face screams the opposite."

I feel the air between us suddenly become heavy, charged with an electric current that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand up. I don't know where to look. I feel Miss Scott's toes probing my groin. I take a quick look at her; she is staring intently at me. She scrunches up her toes, feeling the hardness which I cannot hide any longer from her.

"You like that"? She whispers.

"Yes", I gasped.

"Do you think I like driving or being driven?" She asked.

I felt myself going even redder in the face,

"I don't know, Miss," I said.

"In the classroom, I certainly enjoy being the one in control. But also in every aspect of my life."

She gently pressed her foot down on my erection.

"Imagine my foot is on the gas pedal of the car," she said. "If I press down," which she did, pressing on my erection a bit more, "it goes forward, doesn't it? I think that answers the question, don't you? Of course I'm the driver. So the question is, if I'm the driver, are you willing to be driven?"

A slow smile spread across her face, and I realised I'd just been played; I walked blindly into her trap.

Miss Scott leaned back in her chair, deliberately stretching her body out, allowing the tight fabric of her dress to cling to every curve of her breasts and hips.

"I guess I could give up control and be driven by the right person, of course," I said.

"Of course you would; it's written all over your youthful and innocent face. You're desperate to be driven, aren't you?"

I mumbled something, completely embarrassed and feeling like I was losing all self-control.

Miss Scott looks triumphant.

"I have been awarded a research grant to study a topic similar to this; I think you would make the perfect Research Assistant. Do you have time in your timetable to fit in some extra curricular activities?"

"I do have some spare slots, or can move some things around to suit. To be honest I could really do with some work. Does it pay? What do I have to do"?

"Does it pay?" She snorted, "No, it does not, not you anyhow, and as for what you will need to do, that's really simple, just do as you are told, follow instructions, and be diligent. Do you think you can do that?"

"Sorry, if I overstepped the mark, I didn't mean to offend you or appear ungrateful for the opportunity. I just wondered. I would love to work on the research with you."

"Don't apologise, Russ. In fact, I find your lack of innocence and filter quite refreshing."

"It's just nice to be seen as useful by someone so senior. I hoped I could speak freely; I'm glad I have not offended you. That would never do, and would require some correction on your part, I assume."

Miss Scott's eyebrows arched, and a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

"Correction? She said. Leaning forward. "You used that word with such precision."

"Correction, hmm? Perhaps."

Miss Scott finished the last of her coffee and got up to leave the table.

"Come with me." She said, "I have a bit of time before my next class; let's go outside and get some fresh air and discuss this further."

We left the cafeteria and stepped outside. Miss Scott set off around the rear of the building and sat down on a fire escape. Reaching into her handbag, she removed a silver cigarette case, taking out a cigarette, she placed it between her lips and light it with a gold lighter.

"I didn't know you smoked," I said, somewhat in awe as I watched her light up her cigarette and exhale a cloud of smoke through her nostrils.

Miss Scott looked at me with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"Of course you didn't, you silly boy; we only met today."

Doh, I felt such a fool, but I couldn't take my eyes off her as she continued to suck on her cigarette. I felt myself blush again, from my neck up to my face.

Miss Scott smokes in silence for a while, watching me.

"You are being very attentive again, like you were in class this morning."

"I may be way off base here asking this; please forgive me if I am being impertinent, but do you mind exhaling from your mouth rather than your nose?"

Miss Scott tilted her head to the side, looking at me closely, but not saying anything.

"I'm sorry I've done it again. I really don't know what comes over me talking to you like this; you make me feel so at ease and relaxed. That was an impertinent thing to ask. You should, of course, smoke as you wish. If you feel I have overstepped the boundaries for asking such a thing, please feel free to reprimand me.

Miss Scott just smiles and takes a long, hard drag on her cigarette, exhaling from between her lips; she blows the smoke towards me.

"I cannot decide if you are genuinely innocent and just lacking in the skills required for social interaction like this, or if you are being deliberately obtuse." She said.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I really didn't mean to offend you. I find myself feeling very strange around you, like I can talk to you about anything, and yet all I seem to do is put my foot in it."

Miss Scott looked at me for a long time, analysing my face and the words I had just spoken, searching for any insolence, however slight.

"I do believe you are as innocent as you appear," she said. "This casts a somewhat different light on you, and whether you should be helping me at all."

"Oh please, I really want to help. Ignore my stupid comments, please."

She just stands there, continuing to look at me. I feel I have gone too far, screwed up an excellent opportunity with my immaturity. I pick up my bag, mumbling a somewhat pathetic apology as I turn to leave.

Miss Scott grabs hold of my arm and pulls me back with a surprising amount of strength.

"Where are you going, Russ? I haven't given you permission to leave. I have 10 minutes before my final lecture of the day. In those 10 minutes, we are going to find out if you have any amount of ability to work on my research. If I think you do, or have the promise to learn quickly, then all may not be lost, but only if you follow my instructions to the letter, and without question. Do you understand? And are you willing to do as I tell you in the next 10 minutes?"

"Yes, anything."

"Anything? That's a bold statement. Tell me how much contact you have had with girls whilst you have been at university?"

"Well, we chat and work on assignments together; we sometimes go for drinks as a group."

"Yeah, that's not what I really meant. To put it bluntly, as I see, I will have to do so from now on. Have you fucked any of them? Gone down on them, eaten their young tight pussies?"

"Oh, Miss Scott, no, nothing like that. I've never been with a girl."

"What, never? You're still a virgin?"

"Yes."

"I see. Shit, that might cause some issues with the research."

"No, it won't," I said. "I'm a quick study. I've had excellent grades over the past 3 years; I can learn pretty much anything."

"Alright, my 10 minutes are running out. I'm going to give you a little test now. If you pass, then you get the RA position; if not, then, well then you're done."

Miss Scott quickly lit up another cigarette. Exhaling from between her lips, she said.

"Kneel."

"Kneel?"

"Yes, get on your knees here in front of me. Quickly, I don't have much time to test you."

I did as I was told, lowering myself down onto my knees in front of her, the gravel of the driveway digging into my knees. Miss Scott held the cigarette between her red lips as she reached down with both hands and pulled up the hem of her black dress to her hips. Revealing a tiny pair of red lace knickers.

"Pull them down."

She ordered, the cigarette bouncing between her lips as she spoke. Mesmerised, I hooked my fingers into the elastic and pulled them down. She stepped out of them, parting her legs as she did so. She moved both hands to the lips of her pussy, the cigarette still between her index and middle finger, parting her lips; I was face to face with her wetness, the first pussy I had ever seen in real life.

"Get your tongue in there, lick me, lick my wet pussy for all you are worth, suck on my clit, make me come. If you can do that in the next 5 minutes, you get the job. Do it now, lick me."

I went to work, having never done this before. I was kinda making it up; I had seen plenty on Pornhub, but this was the real deal. She was so wet; pussy juice was literally running down the inside of her thighs. I tentatively started to lick and lap at her lips.

"You're not going to break me; get in there hard," she moaned.  

I forced my tongue in between her lips and was rewarded by a flood of wetness. I lapped up and down, taking her lips into my mouth and sucking on them. Her hand moved, her index finger pointing.

"This is my clit. Suck on it for all your worth," she said.

I took her clit in my mouth, flicking my tongue over the tip whilst sucking on the hood. I glanced up at Miss Scott, cigarette in hand; she brought it up to her mouth and took a deep drag.

"Oh, fuck, I'm close," she said, exhaling a mouthful of smoke at the same time.

She began moaning more and more, her thighs started to shake, her left hand came down and grasped my hair; her dress falling over me and covering my head, as she forced me between her legs harder.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, here it comes."

Her orgasm arrived; I thought I was going to suffocate. Suddenly, she sprayed me as she blew wet all over my face. Fucking hell, I thought. A minute later she released her vice like grip on my hair and lifted her dress, allowing me up for some much needed air. Placing her left hand on my chin, she pulled me back up into a standing position. She leaned forward towards me, took my face in both hands, cigarette still burning in her right hand. She kissed me on the lips, forcing my mouth open, her tongue probing the inside of my mouth like some rabid animal. Licking and sucking, I could taste the tobacco on her breath and in her saliva; her tongue left my mouth and raked over my lips, chin, cheeks, wherever there was a smearing of her pussy juice, devouring it, and licking my face clean.

She released me from her passionate grasp, looking me directly in the eyes. She took a final drag of her cigarette and dropped it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

"Well fuck me, Russ, for your first time, you did pretty good, yes, pretty good indeed, but there is much for you to learn, and I think I would like to be the one to teach you. You get the job; you are now my new RA. Hmm, Russ the RA, nice. I have to get to lectures. I'm sure you can sort yourself out. You may need to clean up a bit before anyone sees your face, your a bit of a mess."

"Yes, Miss, I will."

She turned to leave, walking a few yards away; she turned around and said.

"Oh, and by the way, I came, but you didn't. I'm aware of that fact, but that's how it goes sometime. However, as part of being my RA, you are no longer allowed to play with yourself without my permission, or without my presence, so no touching yourself. Do you understand?"

Well fuck, I thought, I'd just had my first ever sexual experience, eating pussy no less, and I wasn't allowed to go have a wank. I had planned going straight to the toilets and locking myself in a cubicle to knock one out, maybe two.

"Really, that seems unfair," I said.

"Oh my boy, you have no comprehension of what is fair or not. But you will learn. You can learn it the easy way or the hard way; I don't care, but whichever way it may be, it will be MY way, do you understand?"

I stared at her, my very hard and aching cock pressing against my jeans; apparently I didn't reply quickly enough as she came striding over to me. Miss Scott grabbed my cock through my jeans and squeezed hard.

"Do I make myself clear?" she said.

"Are we going to get off on the wrong foot after you started so well and showed so much promise? Should I perhaps pull your cock out now and give you a quick wank?"

"Oh yes please," I said.

"Wrong answer, boy, no wanking for you. Don't you dare touch yourself between now and the next time I see you. "

" When will that be?" I asked.

"Not sure, my little pet. Keep an eye on your emails; I will send through some information for you to read, and a contract to sign regarding the RA position. Now I really need to go."

And with a final squeeze of my cock, she kissed me on the lips. As she pulled away, she bit my bottom lip hard between her teeth, drawing blood.

"Now be a good boy and keep an eye on those emails."

And she was gone.