To say I’d fallen out of love with teaching was an understatement.
Ten years ago, I’d been full of excitement to share my passion for literature and philosophy with the next generation of minds, enthused by my new job at one of the UK’s leading universities. I hadn’t realised then that the next generation of minds often surfed in on daddy’s money and were far more concerned with downing a bottle of vodka as fast as possible than making it to their 9am lecture, regardless of the effort I’d poured into the work.
But when passion had stopped motivating me, money did the job. It wasn’t ridiculous pay but it kept me going. What did it matter to me if students wasted my time when they were paying for it? In return, I spent tutorials with eyes glazed, imagining the punishment if only I could inflict on the girls who turned up in yesterday’s clothes with makeup smeared over their faces, or fantasising about the boys’ conquests described in derogatory terms between Shakespeare sonnets.
I’d been – well, not happy, but satisfied enough. I turned up, they paid me and I wreaked mental revenge on the students who pissed me off too much. Nothing like watching porn with a passing similarity to your students for stress relief in the evenings, too. But that had all changed a week back: an email had gone out talking of ‘annual reviews’, ‘performance analysis’ and ‘necessary cut-backs’. They didn’t want to let anyone go, the email reaffirmed, so pay cuts were required. It was a laughably transparent tactic – lower the pay until people quit, so the University was under no requirement to pay any redundancy or severance. But now I was facing teaching young adults for a pittance of the going rate or quitting without gaining any reward for my previous years of work.
It was that frustration that led me to be so late to my morning lecture. I’d arrived at the car park on time for my two-hour 9am lecture on Monday mornings, but from experience I knew there would be no point arriving early. I watched the numbers tick to 9:10 before I could summon the will to face another day and finally trudged into the building. What were they going to do - fire me?
Right on cue, a group of lads were wrestling and roughhousing outside the lecture hall as if summoned by my depressive Monday morning thoughts. Sweaty from morning training, they seemed to be trying to pull each other’s rucksacks off, with many obscenities thrown in for good measure as the rest of the class filed in. I watched the scene dispassionately, far more disappointed with their lack of originality than poor behaviour.
A group of girls peacocked after them, pushing out their chests and asses as they sashayed past the boys. Their lewd comments fell quiet, although not silent, as I approached, and they rushed into the hall in front of me, not bothering to hold the door in another display of failing manners.
I went to push the door open, mind full of the thousands of times I’d done that self-same action, when a flash of purple on the floor stopped me. The day had just started so the halls were clear of the usual debris of dropped pens, and something about the small rounded object lying on the floor had caught my eye.
I picked it up; it fit neatly into the palm of my hand and was covered in a silicone purple skin. There was a tiny brand mark at the bottom, and suddenly a jolt of adrenaline cleared the morning fatigue from my mind and pushed all weariness away. I swallowed as I carefully re-examined the object, not wanting to get prematurely excited. There were four buttons: one marked with a plus, one with a minus, one with a power icon and one with an 'R'.
I breathed out disbelievingly. Yep. It was definitely a Love Egg remote controller.
As I stared at the remote in my palm in shock, another thought pricked my mind and set my heart racing. Was there any chance the wearer was in my lecture?
There was a very limited range of these things, as I knew from my own experience with them. Had a hapless student dropped it on their way in - or perhaps it had fallen from one of the boys' bags who were roughhousing on their way in?
I suddenly realised I was standing in a deserted hallway staring at the purple remote, with all my students waiting inside. My mouth dry, I decisively pocketed it and strode in, suddenly far more awake than I had been for months.
Even with my mind ablaze with possibilities, I managed to get through the first part of the lecture without incident. I roared through the info and then paused to let the students catch up, eyes roving the audience trying to guess who it could be. Jessica, the short brunette who spent her life on the arm of different rugby players, and, so I’d overheard once, had a penchant for public sex? Charlotte, the chavvy platinum blonde whose every other word was ‘like’ and had apparently shagged almost every male in the room?
I forced myself out of the daze and clicked onto the next slide, thanking my long-slipping teaching standards for including a video. The lights dimmed and I sat behind my desk, sinking into the daydreams that had been plaguing me.
One of the sweet, young twenty-year-olds in front of me had a little egg vibrator nestled in her tight, wet pussy. She’d wanted a bit of fun – or maybe it had been her partner, pushing her into something she’d secretly confessed to be a fantasy. Maybe it was something she’d roleplayed before until the longing got too much and she let herself be convinced. She wanted to make herself vulnerable if she'd given the remote away. My cock strained at the thought, and I continued my desperate analysis of the students until the video came to an end.
I went to stand up and suddenly realised I had a noticeable tent in my trousers, quickly making my way behind the lectern to cover it. But as I was about to restart the lecture, I couldn't resist. My cock was throbbing at the thought of the horny little tease sitting somewhere in front of me. I casually flicked the remote on. There was no visible reaction from anyone, but I'd been more focused on keeping my own poker face than analysing anyone else’s. I could give it time. I still had an hour and forty-five of teaching to go. But to keep things interesting for my unknown victim, I flicked the intensity up a notch.
With a new focus, I managed to get through the next fifteen minutes or so. Every time I paused to let my students write down from the slide, I skimmed over the hall, pausing on each exposed breast and flushed cheek. There were a few possibilities, all whom I knew by name - perks of teaching a niche subject.
I wondered how many levels the remote had. Five? Ten? Would I know if I reset the thing to one again? I decided I could safely assume there were at least five settings and popped it by two more. Intensity level four now. Some little hot thing was dripping in her seat now, because of me. I wondered if they knew they’d lost any semblance of control.
Half-way through the lecture, my student teacher took over to talk on a subject he was specialising on. I took the opportunity to step back into the shadows of the room, surreptitiously adjusting my cock as I turned. My close examination of my female students for any sign of arousal had bolstered my own. And now that I had a few candidates in mind, I needed a closer examination to work it out.
I decided that things had been pretty safe so far, gently increasing over the past forty-five minutes. There was no way whoever it was could ignore the persistent buzzing between their legs, just enough to keep them aroused and frustrated, I hoped. There was, of course, the chance that no one in the lecture had the vibrator stuffed in them, and I was lewdly undressing my students like a dirty, perverted professor.
I was sure someone in the room was feeling my ministrations. But to ramp the game up, I needed to know who exactly was sitting there with a little secret between their legs. I could turn up the vibrations, but then I wouldn’t know if I had accidentally reset it, which would ruin my game. So, I turned it off myself, keeping my eyes roving the seats.
One girl immediately caught my eye. Sara, second to last row on the right. Tall, pretty brunette whose rack attracted attention the world over. It was rare for her to attend the morning lectures, but this time her whole posse of big-breasted bimbos was filling the row. As soon as I'd touched the remote, she'd relaxed so visibly onto her desk I was surprised I hadn't identified her sooner. Her face was pink and although she still squirmed a little, she was calming down.
That wasn't something I could allow. It had been her choice to wear this delightful device into my classroom, I reminded myself with satisfaction as I counted down her few moments of relief before tapping the device back on.
The reaction was beautiful, no matter how much she tried to restrain herself. A few minutes more and she started squirming delightfully in her seat again. I watched, amused, as she frantically pulled her phone out after that and started jabbing desperately. I wonder if her boyfriend had told her he didn't have the remote anymore?
It became apparent when he did, for her eyes grew to the size of saucers and she stared around the room in such horror I almost laughed out loud. Served her right, the little tease. She'd dressed up for the occasion too - I remembered she'd walked in with a short, tight skirt coated onto her pert behind, and even from the front of the lecture hall I could see the impressive amount of cleavage on show.
My student teacher ended his segment and I stood up, carefully keeping behind the lectern still to hide my erection. I called a quick break for my students as was customary for two-hour lectures, but advised my student teacher I'd been impressed with his performance. He could take the rest of the lecture; I would continue to observe. Who exactly I'd be observing, I didn't say.
The students rushed out as usual to get water or have a quick cig in the five-minute break. Sara had bolted upright but quickly realised her error in her position: against the wall, she’d trapped herself behind her unhurried friends. In my pocket, I returned the mode to low, gentle hum and watched as she slowly made her way down the aisle in the queue of students.
As she approached, I could see the pink flush to her exposed breasts. She was breathing heavily and had one hand unconsciously against her lower belly, mouth parted as she took deep, slow breaths. She was almost to the door - I could see the relief in her frame - when I called her name.
'Sara - a quick word if you don't mind? Just about the latest piece of work.'
She turned around, body rigid, and reluctantly made her way over to me at the desk where I’d quickly sat myself.
'...Sir?' she swallowed, shifting her weight nervously as the other students filed out.
'Sorry, Sara, one moment and I'll just pull it up...' I pretended to study my computer screen, knowing full well her essay was sitting in my briefcase. Most people had left the room now and in the unusual quiet, I could just make out the lowest of hums.
'Ah, what am I doing! You handed it in in paper, correct?'
Sara's eyes fluttered. 'Ye-yes, Professor,' she mumbled hesitantly.
I retrieved her essay from my briefcase and wasted a pleasant five minutes talking through a point in her essay that two sentences would have sufficed. At least all that was required from Sara was nodding and murmuring because she seemed capable of little else in her fugue state.
Putting the essay on my desk, I gestured to her to come closer and she stepped dutifully forward. In this proximity, I caught the scent of arousal and felt my cock twitch again at the thought of the cream seeping from her right now. I wondered if she'd soaked through her panties. I wondered if her seat was damp. I wondered if her boyfriend had ever made her this wet.
I checked my watch surreptitiously and smiled.
'And that's it! If you just want to take your seat now, Sara, I think class is about to resume!'
'Oh I- I was just going to-' she stuttered, but crowds of her classmates had started to swarm back in and the path was blocked. I heard a quaver in her breath before she started trudging up the stairs back to her seat.
For the rest of the class, I watched her face as I cycled through the settings. Most women can't come from just internal stimulation, but I made sure that she was never far off. Her hands never reappeared above the desk after that break but it didn't look as though she was pleasuring herself - on the contrary, she looked furious and frustrated.
I wondered why she just didn't remove the vibrator - her teasing mini skirt was short enough to easily slip her fingers below. Maybe fingering herself like that in class was a step too far. Maybe she didn't want the inevitable smell to reach her closer classmates - or maybe she was worried the vibration would be too loud. I didn't know the answer, but the questions kept me rock hard for the last half of the class. It was with great reluctance that I took over from my student teacher and announced the reading to be done and dismissed them.
As Sara passed, I indicated I'd like another word and she grudgingly waited by the desk as I spoke to my student teacher for far longer than necessary, waiting as all else drained from the room. Finally, I released him and turned to Sara.
'Sara, thanks for waiting behind. I just wanted to discuss with you your application to be a subject rep...' I started innocently, noting with silent satisfaction the panic that crossed her face at the prospect of a serious, extended conversation.
'Are you okay, Sara? You look a little flushed.'
'I'm fine, thanks... maybe a little under the weather.' She swallowed nervously.
'Ah good. Classic fresher's flu, I'm sure! Anyway, regarding the rep job, we do want our best students representing the department,' I paused, and in my pocket nudged the remote up several levels, 'which you certainly do satisfy in terms of academic ability.'
I could smell her sex clearly, and in the hush hear a low buzzing. Not only was she flushed and almost hyperventilating, I could see panic flash in her eyes as she realised the same thing.
‘However, I have a few concerns regarding your behavior.’
‘What- what do you mean, Professor?’ She swallowed.
I pushed my chair back out from under the desk to finally face her.
‘Your attire, for starters. Dressing like a brazen hussy every lecture like you get off on teasing men,’ I started calmly. ‘But maybe you don’t just like teasing. Maybe you like to be teased as well?’
Her breath hitched in shock.
'Sara, can you hear something?' I asked quietly.
'No, Sir?' she whispered, head bowed and eyes downcast. Sitting as I was, legs casually outstretched in front of me, there was little chance of missing my throbbing erection.