Lesbian sex between a teacher and her student

I’m a junior in college. I’m 20, blonde, and five feet six inches tall,
quite pretty, and I have an athletic and very attractive figure:
35-23-34. I have very shapely legs, a tight rear, and my breasts, while
not huge, are firm and ample for my body. Needless to say, I have no
trouble attracting men.

Most of these men expect that someone who looks and acts as I do must
be a “dumb blonde”, but they’re usually surprised to find out that I
have a straight “A” average and that I’m smarter than they are. I find
most of them silly and amusing.

I haven’t had much trouble getting my good grades, and all my
instructors have liked me, so I was distressed last semester with my
English professor, a woman of about 35 or so. For some reason, she
took an intense dislike to me, and although I could tell I was doing
better than anyone in the class, she wouldn’t give me anything higher
than a B on my first two papers.

I’m going for a 4.0 average, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let
this one woman spoil it for me. So after my second paper, I decided to
try to get through to her, and I asked her if I could meet her for a
conference. She stiffly and formally agreed, and she suggested that we
have our meeting at her home. Our school is small, and this sort of
thing is quite common, so I agreed to meet her after dinner that night.

I wasn’t sure why my professor seemed to have it out for me, and so I
had no idea what to expect from our conference. But I always try to be
prepared for any contingency, so decided to dress in a sexy manner,
just in case that might prove to be helpful to my cause. I wore a pair
of shorts, a cotton sweater (without a bra), and a pair of high-heeled
sandals, all of which looked, I thought, quite good on my body, set off
by my sun-lightened hair.

I showed up about 8:15 P.M., 15 minutes late, and we sat in her den.
She sat behind her desk, and I sat to the side of it, in a straight
chair, with my legs crossed. She was wearing clothes that were a bit
more casual than her usual classroom attire, but she behaved just as
stiffly and disapprovingly as ever.

I discussed the papers I had written, and she replied to me in an
annoyed, perfunctory manner that my papers were fine. I asked her why,
then, did she only give me B’s, and her answer was that a B is a
perfectly good grade, and I shouldn’t complain.

I then tried to engage her in a conversation about what she had
lectured about in class that day. It was a very interesting topic to
me, and I let her know that, but she wasn’t moved at all by my animated
and genuinely excited manner when I discussed it. She just responded
to me curtly, barely concealing her disdain for me.

I guess I’m spoiled, but my instructors tend to like me and to reward
my good schoolwork with good grades. I’m also spoiled by the
consistently positive responses I get from men and women. So I was
starting to get annoyed with this pain-in-the-ass professor, who was
disappointing me on both counts.

So finally, I just confronted her point blank. “I don’t understand,” I
said. “My papers are quite good by your own admission. I’m quite
interested in the topics you discuss in your course and I’m probably
more knowledgeable about them than anyone else in the class. So what
have I done to get you so down on me? What do you have against me?”

She was startled by my sudden frankness, but she quickly composed
herself and gave me a long, hard stare. After a painfully
uncomfortable pause, she sighed and began to speak in a tense,
disdainful manner. “Miss M—–,” she began, “I must say that I have a
very hard time believing that you don’t know what it is that I’m so
‘down on you’ about, as you put it.”

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