Stalking My Professor - Part 2: The Scarf

It smelled like him, and I almost came in my pants imagining what it would feel like to wrap it around his neck.

By the second week of classes, I'd learned a lot from Dr. Beltran. Sure, I learned the curriculum, but that wasn't really what I was interested in at that point.

No, I'd learned about the hot professor himself. I'd learned that he had a strict routine. Arriving for the first class of the day (usually, traffic allowing) right in time, he had a designated parking spot in the faculty parking lot. He always carried with him a coffe from the same local coffe shop. He left campus for lunch, either for German fusion café on the corner, or the Tai place downtown. The period after lunch was his planning hour, so he was alone in the lecture hall.

After the school day was over, he'd linger in the library until is closed before heading home.

I knew all of this because I studied him more than his psychology curriculum. Watching him, following him, planning for the perfect moment to make my move.

One day, I ditched my calculus class to stop by his room during his planning hour. The door was cracked, so I peaked in and was disappointed to find that he wasn't there.

There was a desk off to the side of the front of the small lecture hall where I'd expected to find him. His bag was there, as well as his scarf. He'd bragged this morning about finally finishing that scarf he'd been crocheting. It was a gradient of shades of gray and purple, and it brought out the gold flecks in his brown eyes beautifully.

A fact that almost made me regret what I was about to do. Almost.

I checked my surroundings making sure no one would see me before going inside, grabbing the scarf off of the desk, stuffing it into my backpack, and rushing out again.

I made a b-line for the nearest bathroom. It wasn't empty as I'd hoped, but what I found there was better than an empty bathroom.

None other than Dr. Beltran himself was at just finishing up at the urinal. I tried not to let him catch me staring at his crotch hoping to catch a glimpse of his cock. He zipped up before I could, though.

He passed by me and flashed a smile and a polite nod. I smiled back, far from polite. I wanted nothing more to take my opportunity then. The press myself against him from behind while he leaned over the sink and take what was mine right there in the bathroom.

Instead, I went inside a stall and listened for him to leave after washing his hands. The bathroom was too risky. Any student or faculty member could interrupt us. No, when it was time to finally fuck him, I knew I would need privacy and time.

But for now, I had something to tide me over: his scarf. I pulled it out of my backpack and sniffed it. It smelled like him and I almost came in my pants imagining what it would be like to wrap it around his neck.

I must have jerked off two dozen times thinking about forcing myself onto Dr. Beltran in the past few weeks, but now it felt more real. I had something of his, something the made and touched and wore pressed against my face while I got myself off. I took my time, stroking slowly, savoring it the way I knew that, some day, I would savor the feeling of his throat hot around my cock.

I came so hard I thought I would pass out.

By the time I pulled myself back together, calculus was over, and it was time for statistics. I hated that class, so I decided to ditch that one, too. Instead, I just went home and enjoyed my new scarf some more.

The next morning, Dr. Beltran lamented the loss of his scarf to the class. Little did he know it was in the room, tucked safely in my backpack until I was ready strike.