How Love Letters From My Horny College Professor Changed My Idea Of Sex

I am waking up the neighbors thinking about you.

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The old joke is that if you ever go through the trouble of having an affair with your professor, you better get an A. The lines begin to blur when you take the class pass/fail and when, well, you don't actually go through with an affair.

I was sitting in the grad lounge of my college, where my writing professor had taken me and my classmates to celebrate the end of the semester. He walked up behind me and whispered the Beatles lyric, "Everybody had a hard year," low in my ear. He placed a new pitcher of beer down on the table in front of me wordlessly and my underage hands stealthily poured from it. Catching on to the game, I announced the next line to the entire table, "Everybody had a wet dream." A few classmates giggled at my non sequitur, but my professor just gave me a concentrated look. It was a familiar, urgent gaze I recognized from the faces of the men who had kissed me, pushed me up against walls without hesitation or consequence. I was 20 years-old and didn't know what to do with those looks when they cropped up in unlikely places, from the eyes of men 16 years my senior. Especially from men who had spent a semester working through my first drafts and schooling me on the merits of Borges. I had enjoyed the look just as much as it terrified me.

The first email from him came after our end of the semester fiction reading. It was filled with typical what-are-you-doing-this-summer formalities, only amplified. "I enjoyed you so much as my student. Your writing is already at the level greater than mine when I was your age. Would you mind taking a look at this piece I wrote?" As I read, my eyes had welled up with tears. I was taken aback, and since I'd spent all semester admiring the mind of this odd yet wise writing professor, I was intrigued.

He wasn't particularly handsome. He was a few inches taller than me, with short brown hair, a wide nose, and the rounded moon belly of a man who didn't sleep enough. But he had the charm and harmless nature of a thin James Gandolfini. It was an off-putting and rugged sexuality, like you could guess he enjoyed going down on women from the way he licked his lips mid-sentence.

Your hips remind me of my ex-girlfriend's hips.

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