Mr Hardy *x-rated* (ending still needs work)

He's tall, slim, wavy blond hair that's always kind of messy, but the cute kind, and has blue eyes. I've been sneaking looks at him. I guess it really doesn't count to say it that way. People are supposed to be paying attention to their professors anyhow. But I've been looking and daydreaming. I could say that my crush on him happened suddenly; some random day, some comment or gesture that sparked something. But that's not how it was at all. I fell for him the very first day of class. I'm pretty sure that I wasn't the only one. All those pretty little teens, fresh out of high school, thinking they are so grown up, getting all dolled up, trying to impress Mr. Hardy, the hot psych professor. At first I was kind of pissed. They were all flipping their hair, or swaying their hips as they walked, or just acting flirty in general. Those girls were practically throwing themselves at him. It didn't work. Right from the start he looked at them just like they were ordinary, boring students. He was a psychology professor, I'm sure he could see through their little game. By the second or third week they all either got the message or got tired of acting like the sexually starved girls they definitely weren't. It was when the initial hype over how hot Mr. Hardy was that I started imagining him and me and... well lots of things. 

I was secretly glad that he ignored those stupid prissy girls. It was me, my imagination told me, that Mr. Hardy wanted. I had a chance, I pretended, with Mr. Hardy. He and I were closer in age than those other girls were, after all. 

One of the first things I began to stare at was his ass in those tight jeans. That of course had somewhat to do with him always writing on the board with his back turned. Still, what a great ass. Also, I am a pretty shy person, and I find it hard to look people directly in the eyes. So I picked out a less intimidating part to stare at.  

It was about the fourth week in. Mr. Hardy had the habit of turning around quickly in the middle of his note writing to ask a question or elaborate on some point, and so naturally my eyes would still be looking down, now drawn to his 'happy package', which was a bit embarrassing at first because was I was lucky enough to be put in the front row, and he caught me staring. At least it felt like it to me. When I looked up at his face I could see him looking directly into my eyes. I swear I thought I seen the slightest smile. The spell broke when I dropped my pen, which I totally did on purpose to hide my face from a blush. That was when I at least tried to pay attention to the actual class stuff. What would happen if he caught me staring again, or staring at the happy package on purpose? I thought; because now it was at the forefront of my mind. I would think, 'don't look, don't look, ' and it would make me think of looking. I can't say I didn't enjoy daydreaming of those fine features of his, but damn it was distracting. In my mind I would reach out for a grab at them, the room would suddenly become empty except for the two of us, I would imagine looking into his eyes without feeling intimidated. And my page of notes would be half blank, I would try to focus on the actual board, and scramble to catch up. The only thing that saved me from falling behind was that I found Mr. Hardy's class easy.  

I remember this idea I had. Mr. Hardy was so handsome, so cute, that I would try to get over my fear of looking people in the eyes by looking into his. In my mind I had done that so many times. I would imagine asking him some interesting question, looking into his baby blue eyes, he would smile and look back into my eyes, I would feel at ease, and he would answer my question. In reality all I did at first was walk up to him, address him so he would look at me, and look briefly into is eyes before handing in my paper. Then something unexpected happened. Instead of taking the paper from me by the edge, his hand touched my fingers, and it surprised me enough so that it drew my attention back to him, and there we were looking into each others eyes. I let the paper go, he held my gaze and my fingers for a second longer, then the moment was over. My feet might have been going slowly, but my heart definitely was going fast. What was that? Did we share something? Was it some make believe thing fueled by my love struck imagination over a hunky professor? Needless to say, the rest of the day was spent inside my head, replaying the event and wondering so many things. 

By the time class with Mr. Hardy rolled back around I tried even harder to concentrate on actual class. I tried to tell myself that it was all just wishful thinking. I told myself that it was indeed way too difficult for my nerves to look anyone in their eyes, especially his. Was it me, I wondered, or was he making sure I was having a difficult time with it? He was suspiciously close to the side of the room I was sitting, writing on the board and then doing that rapid turn, looking mostly at me when talking to the whole class. And damn if I wasn't falling for it. By the time the end of the class period approached, I gave up on resisting his charms. If it was all in my head, so be it. At least it would be fun to imagine. So I let my daydreaming loose. I stared at his ass, and then when he turned, I kept my eyes down for a second, and then looked up at his face as if he was just so fascinating, smiling just a little bit, just like he was smiling at me just a little bit. Some days were nearly normal. He would sit at behind his desk, reading from the textbook, giving quizzes, stuff like that. I was secretly bummed a little bit on those days. 

It was on one of those days, where I felt like he was hiding his hot body behind his desk, just to tease me, that I began to have a new set of thoughts. My imagination had me sitting on the edge of his desk after class, his hands were cupping my cheeks, my hands were playing with his wavy hair, and we were kissing, him standing there in front of me, leaning into my body, me with one leg on either side of him, squeezing his hips with my knees.  

Somehow, as if he knew how close to my body I really wanted him to be, Mr. Hardy, instead of reaching out to hand me papers to pass behind me, brushes past me, his thigh touching my elbow, and hands them out one by one. On his way back up the same row, he brushes my arm again. I watch him pass out the rest of the papers indifferently and with plenty of space between him and the rest of the students. So I wasn't imagining it then? I thought to myself. There was only one way to find out.  

I couldn't make myself do it. It was against policy for a student and professor to be involved. I couldn't just ask if he was into me. Besides, I thought, heart racing subtleties were way more fun. Secret looks, and brief touches of our fingers. That's what we were doing. And I knew just by observation that I was the only girl who got that kind of attention. After class one Friday I gathered up my things slowly, and made myself the last person left to hand in my paper. I was shaking a bit, as I walked to his desk. Sure enough, when I gave him my paper, he practically reached for my hand. I didn't pull away this time, and I didn't look away. We locked eyes for a minute. This time I was certain there was something there between us. Mr. Hardy let go of my hand as he took the paper from me. He shifted his chair and stood up. I took a step backward, to let him by, and he put his hand on my arm, telling me he would see me later. I went to grab my bag and turned to head for the door. He started erasing the board. I couldn't help it, I watched him the same as I always do. Of course he didn't turn around, which was okay too. 'see you. ' I said, and when he finally did turn around I was staring at his happy package. He caught me looking, and this time there was a real smile. No one else left in the room to hide our secret moment from. 

There's a coffee shop near the campus which, even though it's cheaper than the Starbucks on campus, not that many students go to. They are probably either too lazy or too big of coffee snobs to be seen drinking anything but the big name stuff. It's why I like the place. There I was, that same Friday, sipping on my no name latte and making a feeble attempt to keep my mind on studying for an upcoming quiz, when someone sits down next to me. I didn't think anything of it because I was sitting at one of the bar stools along the counter in the back where it's quieter. I don't mind sharing space, so I don't say anything. I just keep trying to focus on something other than what happened in Mr. Hardy's class earlier. It went well for about ten seconds before I realized who was beside me. Mr. Hardy. It was lucky that I wasn't holding my cup, because I probably would have dropped it in surprise. 

'Hey.' he says, just as casually as if this were our normal hangout.  

'Hi, Mr. Hardy.' I say. 

He asks me how my classes were going, and other random topics for a few minutes. I answered back just as casually as I could. Inside, I was far from calm. My heart was racing, my brain was thinking a million things at once. Am I getting the right signals, is he really trying to come onto me, is it all just a coincidence? In between the questions racing through my mind were more intimate scenes, fantasies. 

I finally steadied my shaky hand enough to grab my coffee. We were quiet for a moment while I sipped. Within those silent seconds everything seemed to stop. Mr. Hardy put his hand on my thigh. I tried, and failed, to stifle a gasp. 'it's real.' I whisper.  

'what did you say? ' he asked. 

'this... Thing between us. I wasn't sure if I was imagining you... ' I said softly, not sure how to finish the sentence.  

His warm hand was still touching my thigh, and he pulled my knee toward him so that it was leaning against his leg, his hand traveled slowly up my thigh. 'it's real. ' he whispered.  

The bell on the door jingled as someone came in. We were no longer alone. He put both of his hands back on the table. We both knew to keep this a secret. Still, he winked and have me a quiet 'shh'. I nodded back with a smile. I wanted one last 'accidental' brush as he got up to leave. He knew it, but didn't give me the satisfaction. He's such a tease, I thought, smiling to myself. I reluctantly went back to my studying and daydreaming. Only this time I let my imagination really go wild. So many x rated thoughts.  

The weekend seemed to drag on forever as I looked forward to seeing him again. The only thing that saved me from really going crazy was the dream I had. It was me and Mr. Hardy, there in the classroom. He was writing about sex on the board and I was checking out his ass in some incredibly tight jeans. He turned around to ask me what position I liked the best, and his shirt was unbuttoned, and his pants were undone. He was hard and it was so big. I was embarrassed at first, but when I looked around, we were alone in the classroom. I said I wanted to show him my answer. When I got up from my desk, I realized that I was wearing a dress that was way too short, and had nothing on underneath. The next thing I knew I was behind his desk, leaning forward, papers sticking to my bare breasts my cheek pressed against a stapler, and Mr. Hardy taking me from behind as he told me it was my punishment for not giving him the answer he wanted. When he was through he told me that from now on all of my exams I were to give him would have to be oral.   

I knew it had to be that way. Him treating me like just any plain old student when others were around. It was hard at first, knowing we had a connection. At least I could stare at his happy package or his ass without being afraid he would catch me. And on top of that, I was no longer too shy to look into his beautiful eyes. That was our secret signal. Just that brief, deep gaze into one another's eyes as he looked my way. It was the longing, the wanting to be just near enough to feel that electricity that was thrilling. Of course there were the occasional 'accidental ' brush against my arm, or that our fingers would touch as I turned in my papers.  

We spent most of our time together at the coffee shop, sitting in the far corner, hands in one another's laps, stealing kisses when nobody was looking. At first I kept asking him if he was sure nobody could see us getting cozy. I found out later that he knew the guy who worked there and that our secret was safe with him. It was at the coffee shop where I finally got to reach out and grab where I was fantasizing about since the beginning.  

It was after I got up the courage to describe the dream I had about us. I was glad it was dimly lit, because even as close as we had gotten, I still blushed hard when I told him. 'you're making him wake up. ' Mr. hardy whispered.  

'oh!' was all I could think of to say. 

'do you want to feel? ' he asked. It wasn't much of a question because he already took my hand and placed it between his legs. 

As soon as my fingers touched his warm skin my hand twitched, his fingers closed over my hand and squeezed. 'what's wrong? ' he said.  

'I didn't think you had it out like that. ' I answered.  

He still had his hand over mine, now guiding it up and down his hard dick. After a few seconds, he let go of my hand while I continued to stroke it.  

Below the table things were heating up. He now had his hand between my legs, rubbing me. Above the table we were drinking coffee as if nothing kinky was going on.  

A few minutes went by and he grabs my wrist and takes my hand off of him. 'we better stop before I come.' Mr. Hardy whispers. Reluctantly, I let go and put both hands on the table. As he shifted in his seat, closing his pants, I realized that I was breathing heavily.

He turned towards me and looked deeply into my eyes, making me melt, like he does so easily. 'you've never had a secret lover before, have you? ' 

 'I've had boyfriends and fooled around a little before, but this is new to me. But you probably already knew that. It's your job to analyze people.'

He took a sip of his coffee, which was probably cold by now, and simply said, 'true.' 

This whole time we had been involved, I kept wondering what it was that had attracted him to me. There were plenty of others he could have chosen. He had plenty of ladies around. Yet it was me he was with. I told him what was on my mind, asked him why he didn't give any of the other girls in class a second look. 'they were all practically begging for your attention since the first day.'

 'You're shy. That's why I like you. You don't throw yourself at every guy you find attractive the way others do. ' 

'but I was checking out your ass since day one too.' I answered. I scooted closer to him so that our thighs were touching again.

'same here. ' he replied.  

We sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, holding hands under the table and drinking our coffees. Before we got up to leave Mr. Hardy leaned in close to my ear and whispered, 'I want to be your first.' kissed my neck, and left me there weak in the knees. After about five minutes of shock and new excitement growing inside me, I was able to make my way out the door.  

He was waiting for me by his car. He pulled me close and kissed me again. 'I can't wait. ' I Finally managed to say, as I grazed my hand across his hardening groin. He gave my ass a squeeze and climbed into his car. 

That night ended with another sexual dream.  

There we were, alone in the classroom, Mr. Hardy wearing his too tight jeans, undone, and a tank top that showed off his incredibly sexy abs, and me wearing practically the same thing. Except that my tight tank top hugged my breasts just right. I was sitting on the floor crying, papers scattered out all around my feet, crumpled and damp. Mr. Hardy was standing there towering over me, with more papers, all marked across the top with my grade. "You get a D." And he let one flutter to the floor. "You get a D." He repeated, and dropped another down. "You get a D." 

"Please, Mr Hardy" I kept begging. I couldn't make myself say anything else. I just kept begging. 

Finally he sighs. "You're not understanding me. I guess I'll have to show you another way."

Mr. Hardy bent down, took my hands and helped me up. "Here's your D. Now give me that oral report you owe me."

Suddenly, the way dreams change so quickly, Mr. Hardy's jeans were pulled down, and I was looking down at his big, hard dick. I was no longer crying, no longer begging for something other than what he wanted to give me all along. I wanted that D. 

Sometimes in real life you don't know how to do something, but somehow, in a dream you can do it perfectly, as if you knew it all along. In real life I had never given a blow job, but there in the dream, I knew exactly what I was doing, and I did it well. I knew because it was Mr. Hardy who was begging "please," this time, groaning with pleasure. I knew it because in dreams you just know stuff like that. This went on for what seemed like a long time. His hands tangled up in my hair, guiding my rhythm, my arms wrapped around his legs, my hands gripping his ass.

Mr. Hardy came just as the bell rang and the dream ended. 

I laid there in bed with my eyes closed, my heavy breathing from my dream followed me to the real world. I imagined every detail of that dream, hoping desperately for two things. One, that I won't forget how to give a blow job so good like I did in my dream, and two, that I the real life Mr. Hardy will make my dream come true. 

When my pounding heart steadied I climbed out of bed, and started my morning routine. It used to be just a quick shower, fix my hair, dress in jeans and whatever t shirt or hoodie was on top of the pile, and grab my books and go. It wasn't anymore. Every morning I wake up with my secret lover on my mind, butterflies in my stomach, and a smile on my face that's hard to hide and even harder to explain.

This morning, imagining that Mr. Hardy was there watching, talking to him inside my imagination, I slowly pushed the blankets off. First uncovering my chest. The straps of my tank top had fallen off of my shoulders making it look like I had been sleeping without a top. I gave my shoulders a little shake, *you like what you see?* I pushed the blankets farther down. *Ah, dam,* he says sadly. My shirt was still on, clinging low enough to revealing just enough of my breasts to be a tease. I sat up, letting the blankets pool around my waist. I put a hand on one of my tits, feeling my hard nipple. *It's cold in here* I raised my eyebrows and gave a seductive smile. Still imagining he was there, I continued teasing. I grabbed the edge of my blankets and lifted them. I peeked underneath them. *Nope you can't see* I said to him, and dropped the balnkets again. I slid sideways and poked my bare feet out, stretching my long, sexy legs inch by inch. *Come here babe and have a little sample.* The imaginary Mr. Hardy was there on his knees in front of me, stroking my legs, my own hands traveling up and up my thighs, sliding the covers off of me. *You like my panties? They're your favorite color*  

I stood up and walked towards the bathroom, shaking my ass as I went. The imaginary Mr. Hardy reached out to my panties, as I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down to reveal my sexy ass. They dropped to the floor. The imaginary Mr. Hardy was close behind me now as I put my hands on my stomach, under my shirt, traveling upwards, cupping my tits. *I love these* he said, and my top was lifted over my head and tossed away. I turned around, *come with me and you can touch my whole body* 

In the shower, wet and hot and naked, my hands explored every inch on my body, imagining that it was my secret lover there, stroking me, kissing me. I spent most of the time in the shower rubbing between my legs, pressing hard, grinding, fingering myself with one hand and fondling my breasts and pinching my nipples with the other. With my eyes closed, I could picture him, imagining slick suds on my hands washing his chest, his stomach, around to his tight little ass, the between his legs. My soft soapy hands making him hard.  

I took one deep breath, shaking away the fantasy, stopping myself before I came. I rinsed away the soap, the images, the imaginary Mr. Hardy. I wanted the real Mr. Hardy to be the next person to give me that pleasure. I was determined to make it happen, soon. I craved it like a drug. I remembered his smooth voice, standing there outside the coffee shop, telling me he wanted to go farther, that he wanted to be the one to take me all the way. Me telling him I couldn't wait. 

He had my stomach in knots, my head spinning. I was high with every touch, every moment of eye contact, all the kissing and groping in the dim corner of the coffee shop. He knew so well that it all left me craving so much more. "I need you, I want you," I would whisper. "Soon baby, I promise." and how he looked deeply into my eyes told me he meant it. But what he also meant to do was tease me so badly, just to make my stomach flutter and my cheeks blush. But then again I was doing the same thing to him. I began wearing tighter jeans, shirts that showed off my breasts, walking just a bit more seductive, giving him *come get me* looks. I was teasing him just as badly. We shared so many little moments, little sly looks, it was almost enough of a thrill just as it was. Almost. Soon the need for sexual release between Mr. Hardy and me would be too strong to resist. 

The coffee shop. Our secret hideout. That's where we finally took the next step closer. We had been there many times, Mr. Hardy with his hands up my shirt, down my pants, taking me so close to the edge. Me with my hand stroking him under the table until just before he comes, then teasing him again, kissing, many long talks of sexual fantasies. All so amazing, all so sensual. I wouldn't have changed a thing about us. Then it did change. 

Mr. Hardy stood up and took my hand in his. "Come with me." I laughed, thinking of what else that could mean besides just to follow him. He grinned, reading my mind. I followed. I would always follow him. "I love you so much." I said, with another small laugh, the way you do when your best friend does something so cute that you just want them to know how cute they are being. Then I blushed, stuttered, and looked down shyly. "I meant..." He stopped, turned to me, and looked deeply into my eyes, held my gaze for a few moments. Then he leaned even closer, his lips grazing my ear as he whispered, "You are in love with me, aren't you."

I shivered, from the warmth of his breath, the closeness, the intimate moment. I also shivered because I was scared. I had been afraid to admit that, afraid it would break the spell, afraid it would chase him away. Sure there was plenty of lust, plenty of passion, but love? It caught me by surprise. My heart was pounding, my breath was speeding up. I blushed again and nodded, looking at the floor again.

He put his hand under my chin and tilted my face so I was looking back into his eyes again. "Tell me. Say it."

It came out as a whisper, "I love you."

The kiss that he gave me, there in the shadows, me pinned against the wall in the far corner of the coffee shop, felt differently. There was more passion, more tongue, more need. Something did change when I admitted how I really felt. It was like one of the last thing layers between us fell away. 

When the kiss ended, he put his hand on my cheek, his thumb stroking it softly. "I love you too." He paused while I tried to catch my breath, to steady my weak, shaking knees. "Now come with me, and show me what happened in your dream." 

I still couldn't breathe, couldn't walk. I put my arm around his waist, and he held me close. I could only nod and let Mr. Hardy guide me to somewhere where we could be completely alone. My brain was officially more scrambled than it has ever been when he and I were intimate together. It was the best, most deepest feeling of lust, desire, and excitement he has ever given me. I was nervous, but it was some kind of amazing nervous that I've never felt before. 

Mr. Hardy let go of me, I pouted and poked out me bottom lip. "You're so adorable, baby. In here." He held open the door marked Employees Only, and put his hand on my ass and then squeezed as I stepped inside. He stepped in after me and brushed past me, touching my breast as he walked past. He sat on the edge of a desk and winked as he tilted his head. "Lock the door and come here." 

Of course, lock the door, I thought. Obviously. My hands were shaking. My fingers struggled with the doorknob lock as I tried to twist it the wrong way. The deadbolt rattled as I tried to slide it into place. It seemed like five minutes went by before we were safely locked in, completely alone. I closed my yes, turned around and leaned my back against the door. My body wanted to collapse to the floor. This was one of the biggest moments, everything was shaking, my mind was pulsing with that blankness that excited nervousness gives you. 

I took a deep breath. "It's real." I whispered and smiled a sly smile. 

"It's real" he repeated. That private joke put me back into focus. 

I opened my eyes. 

There he was, his pants open, his hard dick out. Ready and waiting for me. 

Another gasp escaped from me. Oh my god, I mouthed. He smiled as he read my lips. 

I moved toward him, slow enough so he wouldn't notice that I was still quivering. I put my hands on his knees and looked up at him. For a few moments my mind was racing and my thoughts were getting tangled. Until I took a deep breath and let myself fall deep into his eyes. 

Neither of us spoke. Mr. Hardy let go of my cheeks and took hold of my wrists, guided them slowly up his thighs. I began doing what I was for sure I knew how.

I took his dick in one hand and began stroking, barely squeezing, just enough to keep it hard. My other hand traveled lower, foundling, running my fingers over the skin there, exploring for the first time. To him it was as if I was teasing him, but inside I was afraid I wouldn't know what to do after all. 

He knew. He knew because we'd spent so much intimate time together, knew because he was a psych professor, and knew because I had told him. Mr. Hardy placed his hands on the back of my head and gently guided my head down. 

As soon as my lips touched the tip some kind of instinct kicked in. I opened my mouth, grazing the head with my lips. He arched his back with with pleasure as my tongue and lips made their way up and down, licking, giving him soft little kisses down one side and up the other. I could sense an urgency building, a need that he wanted fulfilled. He curled his fingers, tugging on my hair, his hips thrust forward, speaking to me without words, 'more'. I nibbled my way back up. As soon as my mouth was open, he thrust his hips forward, both hands shoving at the back of my head. I tightened my lips and curled my tongue around his dick. For a split second I panicked, I forgot everything I thought I knew about giving head. In that same moment he jerked his hips forward, harder this time, and shoved it as far in as he could get it. My throat closed up, my teeth nearly clamped shut. I jerked my head backwards, and glanced up to see this huge smirk on his face. If my mouth wasn't full I would have called him an asshole for choking me on purpose. After that, he let me suck it, lick it up and down. I let go of my grip on his thighs and gripped the shaft of his dick while my lips and tongue caressed the head. 

Mr. Hardy already had a voice that I found sexy, but his little moans of pleasure were even hotter. It made me enjoy this even more, gave me a hunger deep inside. I wanted all of him inside my mouth, I needed it. So I let my hands drop. This time I was ready for it. This time I didn't choke on it. My throat was already aching, but I didn't care. 

Mr. Hardy's breathing got heavier. His fingers pulled my hair even harder. ''Swallow it all like a good girl." He said. And when he came into my mouth, it was like nothing I had ever imagined. It was intense, powerful. Strange. But a good kind of strange. Amazingly strange. Not a lot of words could describe how it feels to give a blow job for the first time.  

Here's where this journal sort of skips a bit. Because after Mr. Hardy and I snuck into the office and fulfilled one of my dreams, everything else that happened since the. Was kind if a blur. I was either replaying that scene in my mind fantasizing about giving him more, or we were exchanging secret knowing looks, finding those excuses to touch when no one was looking.

 It was always so intense inside my head, my mouth craving his hard dick. Wondering what it would feel like when he and I finally have sex. I laid there in bed in the dark just about every night, my hands between my legs, my fingers rubbing and stroking myself, wanting, no, needing Mr. Hardy lying next to me, his fingers there touching my pussy instead of my own fingers, him on top of me, inside of me. I was so horny for him that I even almost cried once.