Just a minute Mr.Johnson

"Just a minute Mr. Johnson." a rich throaty alto called out.

You immediately came to a complete stop. Your name was Patrick Johnson. In many ways, you were the average college freshman. At five foot ten, one hundred seventy pounds, you were a little on the small size, but still well within the range of what was considered average. Your brown eyes and jet black hair cut rather short were common features. Like most men your age, you had only three things on your mind-Wine, Women, and Song.

You turned around slowly. A bulge started to form in your pants. Professor Elizabeth Meredith had seen two and a half times the number of years you have. However, she was still one hot woman. A strong thin nose was surrounded by full, ruby red lips and a pair of vibrant green eyes. Her face was surrounded by a thick mane of full-bodied, shoulder-length auburn hair. She always dressed in conservative business suits. However, the buttons of the dark blazer strained to contain the double D's of her 36-24-36 hourglass figure. And between the hem of her knee length skirt and the six inch heels of her black pumps were a pair of shapely calves that seemed longer than the legs of most of the girls in your classes.

"Your test was two minutes late," the professor said. You swallowed hard. While Professor Meredith was known as quite the hottie, she was also known as quite the bitch. Rumor had it that she flunked a student because he tripped on the way to hand in a test and ended up handing it in 30 seconds late.

"This is unacceptable," she continued, "There will be a penalty." You looked at her nervously. As good as you did in high school, college was another matter. Considering that you guessed at every answer, you doubt you did that well. You couldn't afford to lose any more points for the class.

"Please Professor, I can't afford that." you started, "I'll do anything to avoid flunking." You were trembling as she approached.

"Anything?" she asked as she cozied up to you. There was an undeniable twinkle in her eye. A large wolfish grin adorned her lips. You saw neither. As you looked down, all you saw was cleavage as her well endowed chest pushed open the top of her blazer. You swear that if she takes a deep breath, she'll pop her top. As near as you can tell, she had neither blouse nor bra on underneath. Even the thought of seeing her tits was driven from your mind as you felt her hand cups your crotch. Numbly you nodded your agreement.