“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Emily whispered, her breath hot against my ear as I pushed the door to Professor Calloway’s office open. The dim light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, and the scent of old books and something faintly musky—like cologne—hung in the air. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.This is insane, I thought, but the thrill of it was intoxicating. We were supposed to be studying for midterms, not sneaking into his office after hours like some kind of cliché college fantasy. But then again, nothing about Professor Calloway felt cliché. He wasn’t just handsome; he was magnetic. Tall, with dark hair that always looked perfectly tousled, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you. Every lecture felt like a private conversation, like he was speaking only to you. And tonight, it felt like he was expecting us.“Come in,” his voice was low, smooth, and slightly amused, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all semester. His chair creaked as he leaned back, those impossibly blue eyes flickering between me and Emily. “I wondered how long it would take for you two to work up the courage.”Emily let out a nervous giggle, her hand tightening around mine. She’s just as flustered as I am, I realized. We’d talked about this for weeks, ever since that night at the bar when we’d both confessed to our little crushes on him. It had started as a joke—what if he noticed us? What if he wanted us?—but somewhere along the way, it stopped being funny. It became a fantasy we couldn’t shake.And now, here we were. Standing in his office, feeling like schoolgirls caught in some forbidden act. Except we were the ones who’d sought him out. Professor Calloway stood, his tailored shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, and took a step toward us. “You know, most students come to my office hours to talk about grades,” he said, his lips curving into a smirk. “But I have a feeling this isn’t about your essays.”I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “No,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not.”He chuckled, and the sound sent shivers down my spine. “Good. Because I’ve been watching you two all semester. Waiting. Wondering if you’d ever… act on what we all know is there.”My stomach flipped. He’s been watching us? The thought made me feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet… incredibly turned on. Emily squeezed my hand again, and I could feel her trembling beside me. She was just as affected by him as I was. Maybe more.Professor Calloway closed the distance between us, his presence overwhelming. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his fingertips lingering against my cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “Both of you.”I didn’t know who moved first—me, Emily, or him—but suddenly, everything shifted. His lips crashed against mine, warm and demanding, and I melted into him. Emily pressed herself against my side, her hands sliding over my hips, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The three of us became a tangled mess of hands and mouths, each touch sparking something wild and electric inside me.“Do you want this?” Professor Calloway asked, pulling back just enough to look at us. His voice was rough, edged with desire, and it sent a jolt of heat straight through me. “Because once we start, there’s no going back.”I glanced at Emily, and she nodded, her eyes wide and dark with need. “Yes,” I breathed, the word barely audible. “We want this.”---Let me rewind a little, because I know how this sounds. How it looks. A professor and two of his students? It’s the kind of scandal that makes headlines, the kind of thing people whisper about behind closed doors. But it didn’t start that way. At least, not for me.It began innocently enough. Freshman year, first semester, Introduction to Literature with Professor Calloway. He walked into the lecture hall on the first day, and the entire room fell silent. Not because he demanded it—he didn’t. But because there was something about him that commanded attention. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was captivating. His voice, his confidence, the way he talked about books like they were alive—it was impossible not to be drawn to him.For weeks, I told myself it was just a crush. Harmless. Normal. Everyone had one on him, didn’t they? But then came the study group. Emily and I had ended up sitting next to each other during one of his lectures, and we hit it off immediately. She was bubbly, outgoing, and had a wicked sense of humor that kept me laughing even when the material got dense. We started meeting outside of class to study, and somehow, inevitably, the topic of Professor Calloway came up.“Okay, don’t judge me,” she’d said one night, leaning across the table at the library, “but have you ever, you know, fantasized about him?”I’d nearly choked on my coffee. “What? No! I mean… maybe? God, okay, yes. Is that bad?”Emily grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Not at all. In fact, it’s kind of perfect.”That was the moment everything changed. From then on, every time we met, the conversation drifted back to him. What it would be like to kiss him. To touch him. To feel his hands on us. It started as a joke, but the more we talked about it, the more real it felt. And the more we wanted it.Then came the bar. It was a Friday night, and we’d both had a bit too much wine. We were tipsy, giggly, and completely uninhibited. Someone—I don’t even remember who—brought him up again, and before I knew it, we were making a plan. A ridiculous, impossible plan to invite him out with us. Just to see what would happen.To our surprise, he said yes. And that night, over drinks and laughter, something shifted. The way he looked at us, the way he touched our arms casually as he spoke—it wasn’t just friendly anymore. There was an undercurrent of something else. Something darker. Hotter. By the end of the night, I was drunk on more than just alcohol. On him. On the possibility of him. And when Emily and I stumbled back to her dorm, we couldn’t stop talking about it. About him. About what we wanted.Which brings us back to now. To his office. To the way his hands are roaming over my body, his lips tracing a line down my neck while Emily kisses me with a hunger that matches my own. It’s overwhelming, dizzying, and I can’t think straight. All I know is that I don’t want it to stop.“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice sending another wave of heat through me. “Say it.”“I want you,” I gasp, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “Both of you.”Emily moans softly, her hand sliding between my legs, and I arch into her touch. Professor Calloway chuckles, low and dark, and pulls back just enough to look at us. “Good answer,” he says, his eyes blazing with something that makes my stomach clench. “Now show me.”

Emily and the narrator sneak into Professor Calloway’s office after hours, where he reveals he has been watching them all semester. The three engage in a heated, intimate encounter, with both students expressing their desire for him. The chapter ends with the professor encouraging them to act on their feelings.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Emily whispered, her breath hot against my ear as I pushed the door to Professor Calloway’s office open. The dim light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, and the scent of old books and something faintly musky—like cologne—hung in the air. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

_This is insane_, I thought, but the thrill of it was intoxicating. We were supposed to be studying for midterms, not sneaking into his office after hours like some kind of cliché college fantasy. But then again, nothing about Professor Calloway felt cliché. He wasn’t just handsome; he was magnetic. Tall, with dark hair that always looked perfectly tousled, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you. Every lecture felt like a private conversation, like he was speaking only to you. And tonight, it felt like he was expecting us.

“Come in,” his voice was low, smooth, and slightly amused, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all semester. His chair creaked as he leaned back, those impossibly blue eyes flickering between me and Emily. “I wondered how long it would take for you two to work up the courage.”

Emily let out a nervous giggle, her hand tightening around mine. _She’s just as flustered as I am_, I realized. We’d talked about this for weeks, ever since that night at the bar when we’d both confessed to our little crushes on him. It had started as a joke—what if he noticed us? What if he *wanted* us?—but somewhere along the way, it stopped being funny. It became a fantasy we couldn’t shake.

And now, here we were. Standing in his office, feeling like schoolgirls caught in some forbidden act. Except _we_ were the ones who’d sought him out. 

Professor Calloway stood, his tailored shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, and took a step toward us. “You know, most students come to my office hours to talk about grades,” he said, his lips curving into a smirk. “But I have a feeling this isn’t about your essays.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “No,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not.”

He chuckled, and the sound sent shivers down my spine. “Good. Because I’ve been watching you two all semester. Waiting. Wondering if you’d ever… act on what we all know is there.”

My stomach flipped. _He’s been watching us?_ The thought made me feel exposed, vulnerable, and yet… incredibly turned on. Emily squeezed my hand again, and I could feel her trembling beside me. She was just as affected by him as I was. Maybe more.

Professor Calloway closed the distance between us, his presence overwhelming. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his fingertips lingering against my cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “Both of you.”

I didn’t know who moved first—me, Emily, or him—but suddenly, everything shifted. His lips crashed against mine, warm and demanding, and I melted into him. Emily pressed herself against my side, her hands sliding over my hips, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The three of us became a tangled mess of hands and mouths, each touch sparking something wild and electric inside me.

__“Do you want this?”__ Professor Calloway asked, pulling back just enough to look at us. His voice was rough, edged with desire, and it sent a jolt of heat straight through me. __“Because once we start, there’s no going back.”__

I glanced at Emily, and she nodded, her eyes wide and dark with need. “Yes,” I breathed, the word barely audible. “We want this.”

---

Let me rewind a little, because I know how this sounds. How it *looks*. A professor and two of his students? It’s the kind of scandal that makes headlines, the kind of thing people whisper about behind closed doors. But it didn’t start that way. At least, not for me.

It began innocently enough. Freshman year, first semester, Introduction to Literature with Professor Calloway. He walked into the lecture hall on the first day, and the entire room fell silent. Not because he demanded it—he didn’t. But because there was something about him that commanded attention. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was *captivating*. His voice, his confidence, the way he talked about books like they were alive—it was impossible not to be drawn to him.

For weeks, I told myself it was just a crush. Harmless. Normal. Everyone had one on him, didn’t they? But then came the study group. Emily and I had ended up sitting next to each other during one of his lectures, and we hit it off immediately. She was bubbly, outgoing, and had a wicked sense of humor that kept me laughing even when the material got dense. We started meeting outside of class to study, and somehow, inevitably, the topic of Professor Calloway came up.

“Okay, don’t judge me,” she’d said one night, leaning across the table at the library, “but have you ever, you know, fantasized about him?”

I’d nearly choked on my coffee. “What? No! I mean… maybe? God, okay, yes. Is that bad?”

Emily grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Not at all. In fact, it’s kind of perfect.”

That was the moment everything changed. From then on, every time we met, the conversation drifted back to him. What it would be like to kiss him. To touch him. To feel his hands on us. It started as a joke, but the more we talked about it, the more real it felt. And the more we wanted it.

Then came the bar. It was a Friday night, and we’d both had a bit too much wine. We were tipsy, giggly, and completely uninhibited. Someone—I don’t even remember who—brought him up again, and before I knew it, we were making a plan. A ridiculous, impossible plan to invite him out with us. Just to see what would happen.

To our surprise, he said yes. And that night, over drinks and laughter, something shifted. The way he looked at us, the way he touched our arms casually as he spoke—it wasn’t just friendly anymore. There was an undercurrent of something else. Something darker. Hotter. 

By the end of the night, I was drunk on more than just alcohol. On him. On the possibility of him. And when Emily and I stumbled back to her dorm, we couldn’t stop talking about it. About him. About what we wanted.

Which brings us back to now. To his office. To the way his hands are roaming over my body, his lips tracing a line down my neck while Emily kisses me with a hunger that matches my own. It’s overwhelming, dizzying, and I can’t think straight. All I know is that I don’t want it to stop.

__“Tell me what you want,”__ he murmurs against my skin, his voice sending another wave of heat through me. __“Say it.”__

“I want you,” I gasp, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “Both of you.”

Emily moans softly, her hand sliding between my legs, and I arch into her touch. Professor Calloway chuckles, low and dark, and pulls back just enough to look at us. __“Good answer,”__ he says, his eyes blazing with something that makes my stomach clench. __“Now show me.”__

A story about a college professor who is handsome and gets to fuck some of his students  around 20+ of age eventually leading into a foursome.

I fucked my professor along with 3 other girls.

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