She sat there, in the very front row, to my immediate left. When I walked into the classroom at the outset of the spring semester, and set my materials down, and met her glance, I knew that I was in big, big trouble.

She was a recent transfer student to the Midwestern private college at which I was an adjunct professor. I had noticed her in the hallways in the building in which I taught, and was transfixed by her beautiful eyes and shy smile.

And she returned my hallway interest with an interest of her own. However, I dismissed this as me being a guy, and because of the general rule that guys see cues about whether a woman is interested in them sexually – whether the cues are there or not.

I learned through the grapevine that her name was Lia. I began to call her "the goddess" in my mind, because she far outstripped all of the other students in beauty and grace. She also had an aura of mystery about her, being different from the other students by her ethnicity and her newness to the college community.

She was of Korean descent, and seemed to be proud of it. She wore clothing that spoke of the Orient, and whispered of enchantment and of a far-away, rich culture. She had the dark hair associated with her homeland, which she wore long and straight, and she was somewhat thin, with lovely breasts and enticing hips.

I had even begun to fantasize about what she might be like in bed – whether she would be passive, assertive, or something totally unknown, and unexperienced in my mundane, relatively conservative existence. I entertained the thoughts to several earth-shattering masturbation sessions, each seemingly more intense than the last.

And now, "the goddess" in my class. Great. It’s going to be a long semester, I told myself, but hopefully a fun one, as I get to know her as being one of the class participants, and not just as a beautiful but distant woman.

The semester began without much fanfare. I’m told I’m a very entertaining professor, and that my personal anecdotes and illustrations help the course material to come more alive. Several students in the class were extremely interested in the material, or at least gave that impression. And as I generally teach to the 4-5 students in the room that seem to care about what’s being taught, things generally go pretty well, if the instructor evaluations are any measure.

I also enjoy watching the spring semester unfold. As the weather gets warmer, the students generally shed their winter Eskimo attire in favor of lighter, more comfortable clothing. And generally, this makes them more appealing to my own natural impulses. However, this can result in certain responses, after which I generally find myself having to hide by standing behind the podium, for fear of exposing a raging erection pressing against my Levis.

The goddess remained in her chosen seat for the first half of the semester, growing increasingly more attractive as the layers of clothing were discarded. When at last I could see her entire figure, she became even more of an enticement than she had ever been.

But back to the course itself.

As is often the case, after the first examination, several students seemed to fare more poorly than they expected. I invited them to study in groups, and to devote more time to the course material. However, after the midterm examination, there were still several students who didn’t seem to be making the adjustments necessary to keep their grades up. The goddess Lia was among them.

Over the course of the several days after the midterms were graded and passed back, she sent me several emails that expressed her need to get a better grade in the class than the one she was currently receiving. She even played the "my scholarship and financial aid depend on me getting a 3.0" card. I invited her to visit during my office hours.

She arrived on a Tuesday, and set her backpack down. We began discussing her progress, and what she might further do to increase her grades. Almost as soon as we began, she began to weep silently.

I asked her what I could do to help.

She told me of her difficult upbringing, and of the early deaths of her parents. She reported having been raised by relatives, who let her know in no uncertain terms that she was a burden on their already taxed resources, and that she was less of a priority than their own biological children. She also related that she was an object of sexual advances by several of her family members, who often said that they were owed her favors due to her status as being dependent on them.

Despite having received little encouragement, she managed to fare well in school on the basis of her sheer intelligence and her beauty, which was not lost on her teachers, male or female. She reported that, in return for special accommodations and individual attention, she had been sexually involved with many of them.

She also reported that she was very good at sexual matters, and learned to please members of both sexes in a manner to which they had not been accustomed. When word got around, as it inevitably did, she became a much-in-demand student.

While she knew that she was being used, she also was aware that she was using the others to get what she believed she needed – an education, to be used to generate a way out of the hell that was her current life, and a ticket out of her homeland.

From a female lover ten years her elder, she learned of an exchange program in which she would travel to the west coast of America to experience life there. She took a place in the program, and never looked back.

And now she found herself in my office, in tears, struggling to earn an acceptable grade in my class. And telling me her life story.

As a professor with some experience, I generally take such accounts with a grain of salt – I find I have to do so to survive, for I believe my good heart is too trusting, and perhaps too lenient on those who do not practice adequate self-discipline. However, her story rang true to me.

At least, I surely wanted to believe it. As a professor of psychology, I know it is nearly impossible to overestimate physical attractiveness, and as I said earlier, Lia had it in abundance. I might have been more difficult on someone that I did not fantasize about fucking to extremely delicious orgasms, and balancing that person’s luscious pussy on the edge of my tongue...

Lia came to the end of her account of her life to date, including her recent transfer. She reported that she had transferred after finding her former institution less than engaging, with classes taught solely by teaching assistants, and the student body somehow distant. She related that she transferred to my college after learning of its reputation as a friendly place, in which students and faculty were engaged in the mutual pursuits of wisdom, rather than simply teaching and learning facts.

We agreed that she should visit me during office hours to learn more of the material in an in-depth manner. We also agreed that she should perhaps undergo testing to determine if any learning disability was present and hindering her efforts at attaining excellence.

When we got up to go, she smiled, and asked if she could give me a hug. When I asked why, she stated that she fully expected me to make a pass at her, or offer up some conversation laced with sexual double entendre. I said I was happy to help her in any academic way, and that a hug was quite welcome.

When we embraced, she held on for longer than I did. She kissed me on the cheek, which seemed a bit awkward.

Afterward, I was proud of myself for my restraint. But only for a second – I immediately went to the mens’ room, where I imagined myself getting fucked by Lia, with her glorious breasts bouncing freely, her dark hair spectacularly tousled, with her straddling me, riding my cock, driving me toward a huge orgasm with her words...

"Fuck me, baby... I love your cock in me... harder, harder, HARDER... I’m gonna cum, professor.... make me cum... I’m cumming, baby... cumming..."

And with my imagining her in the throes of her own orgasm, I shot my load as well, and began to breathe a little more regularly...

The next several times we met, we discussed the course material, and she shared more of her personal story. Each time was concluded with her kiss, and a sweet hug between us. More often than not, I concluded my meetings with her in private, with her in my mind, dreaming of her body laced together with mine, with my cock deep inside of her...

The good news was that her grades began to improve. The bad news was that the semester was beginning to draw to a close, and our sessions would of necessity be over.

The other bad news was that I began to fall for Lia. Her story continued to unfold, and her consistent reports lent a sense of credence to it. When I learned more of what she had overcome to make it this far, I experienced admiration for her; this admiration, when combined with her entrancing physical beauty, made her irresistible to me. I began to dream of living with her, sharing a bed every night, and becoming the best friends and lovers that we could become.

I began to make plans for getting her into my bed, and even more importantly, into my life. When I thought of what to say, I wondered if I should say what my heart wanted to say – that I loved her, and wanted only her. I wondered if this would scare her away, and even if other previous lovers had also fallen hard for her, and wanted to possess her as I did.

But I knew I did not want to possess her, or to hold her down in any way. I wanted to love her in the best way possible; in other words I wanted to do whatever I could to help her develop into the person she wanted to become. I knew from experience that possession simply is an untenable position – inevitably the one possessed seeks to change, and grow, and that this does not always meet with the approval of the one seemingly in possession.

And I certainly wanted her to become my partner in all things, so that we might learn from each other, and make our lives as meaningful as possible.

During the final exam, I simply could not take my eyes from her. She assumed her normal seat in the front, and was dressed in a yellow sundress, with a pink brassiere under it. She wore comfortable sandals as well. I found myself being tantalized with the thought of what she was wearing underneath, and wanting to dismiss the class, lift her dress, and bury my tongue in her warm, moist, tasty sex.

Unfortunately, she had become such a good student, and knew the material so well, that she completed her exam before many of the remaining members of the class. She handed the exam to me, patted my hand gently (which nearly sent me into orbit), leaned over to me, and whispered that she really enjoyed the class. She also surreptitiously passed me an light green envelope. I placed it under a stack of papers until I could read it with more privacy.

I watched her walk out of the classroom. She seemed to walk more erect than I had ever seen her. With this walk, she also drew attention to her absolutely amazing ass. Every male head in the class, as well as some of the females, turned their attention from their exams just for a brief period, to watch her walk, and experience the thrill of the goddess, perhaps for the last time.

I tried to focus my energy by grading some of the papers that were turned in, but I found I couldn’t concentrate at all. I looked out of the window, and saw her walking away from the building, alone. She met up with some other students, and while they greeted each other with smiles, I caught another glimpse of her in profile... simply magnificent. I imagined her turning her head back to the window from which I was watching, and it’s possible she did.

One thing for sure was that thoughts of her were making me hard again, as they always did.

When at last the final stragglers turned in their exams, after several minutes of prayer and incantations to the gods for final inspiration, I was alone. I opened the envelope slowly.

In her handwriting, it said:

"Professor Coffey – I can never thank you enough for all of your help this semester. Let’s not let it end..."

"Love, Lia"

She also included her phone number and email address, which I had never used but had already memorized, of course.

After a brief period of time, in which I believed I was somehow to be perceived as continuing to show restraint, I picked up my cell phone and called her. She did not pick up, perhaps out of not recognizing the number. To her voicemail, I said:

"Lia – this is Professor Coffey. As reward for all of your hard work this semester, I’d like to take you to dinner. I’ll even let you choose the restaurant, within reason, of course, taking into account I’m a lowly adjunct professor! Please call back when you get the chance."

She called back almost instantly. She said, "I was hoping you’d call! How does Friday night sound?" I said that was great, and that she should think of a good place to share the meal. We laughed a bit, I congratulated her again, and we concluded the conversation.

Friday could not come fast enough. When at last it did, I had to hold myself back for fear of having my heart leap out of my throat. We met at a local Mexican restaurant, one that she said she frequents with her friends. We ordered and waited for our food.

I again expressed my admiration for her hard work. I was also able to tell her that she had made an A-minus in the class. She was overjoyed to hear it, and quietly began again to weep.

When I asked why, she said that she was so happy, and that I had done so much for her. We joined hands over the table, and didn’t let go. This differed from what had become the standard hug at the conclusion of a tutoring session.

I recall that this was the time when I realized that she felt something special for me, too. I was overwhelmed with a sense of joy, that this lovely, talented, beautiful creature valued me as well.

We didn’t release each other’s hand until the entrees arrived. Then we locked eyes again, and didn’t look away... Small talk became less manageable, what with the lump in my throat and all.

At the end of the meal, we paid, and in my elation, left a sizeable tip for the foodserver who had kept our drinks filled, and otherwise left us alone. Feeling like the king of the universe, I asked her what she planned to do with the rest of her evening.

She hugged me, and whispered, "I want to make love with you all night long, Professor Coffey."

I drew back, if only to look into her entrancing eyes. She nodded to let me know that she had meant exactly what she had said to me.

I drew her close this time, and asked her if she was sure.

She whispered again – "I’m sure, sweetheart. I love you, and want you – badly."

I smiled, and said, "Then you better call me John!"

We tried to remain cool on the drive back to my apartment. However, this was extremely difficult after what we had shared, both over the course of the semester and during that day. It became even more difficult when she placed her hand on my knee, and my attention for driving became minimal at best.

We walked to the door, and entered the apartment. In a flash, we were all over each other. My dreams were becoming reality. I took her beautiful face in my hands, and bent to kiss her, finally. We kissed gently at first, and then with increasing passion. I opened my mouth ever so slightly, and felt her tongue enter, and make first contact with mine. She tasted as sweet as I had imagined, my sweet Lia, alone with me at last.

I led her to the bedroom, with my hand in hers, becoming more aware that this was indeed happening. I confessed to her of my attraction, and of the dreams I had of this very moment. She seemed to blush gently, and said that she had dreamed of me as well throughout the semester. I asked her what she would like me to do with her, and she responded that I was hers, body and soul.

I stripped off her blouse, and tasted that spot where her lovely neck and collarbone met... she squirmed sexily at this touch of my lips on her. I was so nervous, and wanted to please her so badly. I watched as she removed her belt, and began to lower her slacks... she wore only the briefest of clothing, rose-colored sheer panties. I could see her wetness already, and she seemed to be only slightly embarrassed.

"Now you know even more that I am a person of her word."

She also helped me out of my clothing, leaving only my boxer shorts.

I kissed her down the length of her sternum, and on to her abdomen, ending only at the hem of her panties. In my experience, women are very ticklish in this area, and I tried to achieve the right balance of pressure and sensitivity to help her to feel even more aroused. I licked her navel, and she squirmed in delight. I turned her on her stomach, and kissed and licked her sexy back, starting at one end and continuing to the other side. I bit her neck at the hairline, and she began to moan softly.

"John, I love you..."

Her words only served to inflame me more. I undid her bra, and helped her out of it. When she turned to me, I sat on the edge of the bed, and held her closely and tenderly, as she offered her beautiful breasts to me for the first time. We breathed sighs of satisfaction, and longed for more of the touch of each others’ skin.

I kissed her again, and trailed my tongue down until it reached the upper curve of her breast. Her breathing seemed to catch, and I knew that she was feeling intense excitement and anticipation. I kissed around the curve of her breast, saving her areola and nipple for as long as I could. Then, she grabbed my head, and pushed my mouth down onto her magnificently erect nipple.

She threw her head back and sighed, holding me there, as if I had any desire to move away. Her nipple was like honey, and her response of sheer pleasure drove me onward to suck more insistently, measuring my intensity by her responses. She held me there for several minutes, all the time moaning her delight, before offering me her other breast. I sucked hungrily, again measuring my pressure to her desire and letting her lead.

After she motioned that she was ready for more, I slipped her out of her panties, and experienced her total nudity for the first time. Out of my total respect and love for her, I looked her in the eyes, and thanked her... she again began to weep. I didn’t need to ask the source of the tears this time. She kissed me again, and our tongues met.

I lay her down on the bed, asking her if she is comfortable, and then proceeded to spread her legs. She responded timidly, and began to shake ever so slightly. I positioned myself at her mound, and tentatively began to lick at her labia. She again grabbed the back of my head, and gently moved me into position. I teased her at first, and then began my assault on her in earnest. She tried to motion me up to her clit, but I circled around it, teasing her even further. She finally dragged me onto her most sensitive area, and she responded with the beginnings of her first orgasm. She thrashed gently, and moved herself in time to my tongue’s ministrations. I moved as slowly as I could, knowing that this would only allow her to not be overcome with too much intensity before she was ready to cum fully, and as intensely as possible.

I gently stroked her nipples with my hands, and she signaled that this was indeed appreciated. My hands gently squeezed her breasts, and I was met with more moans and sounds of delight.

Finally, she could stand no more. She began to cum, and to cum hard and fast. She was delightful in the way in which she took her pleasure, with just the right combination of abandon and restraint, as if she didn’t care to frighten me off with her intensity.

I continued to lick, and to lick harder, as she pressed my head into her mound more deeply than she had before. She erupted into my willing and waiting face, and my joy was total. She continued to cum for several minutes, before finally motioning that her orgasm was complete.

I moved over her, and she took me in her hand, and guided me toward her vagina. She took my head down, and whispered in my ear:

"Make love to me, John..."

I entered her, slowly at first, and with only the head of my cock in her. I continued to tease her, making her want me even more. She tried valiantly to push on my ass, and make me enter her more fully. Finally, I gave in to her efforts, and entered her fully, to the length of my cock.

She moaned like I never heard anyone moan before. She dug her nails into my ass. She bucked against me, experiencing her pleasure fully. She began to cry out "fuck me, fuck me, John..."

I fucked her as hard as I thought I could, and began to feel the rush of my cum in my balls and shaft. I wanted to wait for as long as I could, because I wanted to show my love for her in placing her pleasure above my own.

I held out for as long as I could. But when she said that she wanted my cum so badly, I began to move faster and more insistently... and when she said that she wanted me to get her pregnant, I could stand it no longer. I continued to push into her, and found myself exploding in wave after wave, shooting my cum into the willing woman of my dreams, and hoping to myself that she would conceive our child...

When finally I could stay in her no longer, we kissed, and professed our deep love for each other. We slept for a brief period of time, regaining our strength.

Then we were at it again. She stood me up, and kneeled before me. She began to lick and kiss my abdomen, and began to take my prick in her hand. She licked gently at it, before becoming bolder as I responded to her touch. She stroked my shaft, and sucked hungrily at the head of my cock. I threw my head back in sheer pleasure as she dug her nails into my ass again.

She proceeded to bring me closer to another shattering orgasm, as she pleasured my cock with her tongue and mouth and hands.

"Oh, baby, I’m gonna cum again... where do you want my cum?" I said with all the effort I could muster. I fully expected her to take my cum into her mouth, or ask me to shoot on her face, her tits, or some other part of her perfect body. But then, she surprised me yet again.

"In my womb, baby..." she stopped long enough to say.

I quickly lay her on her back, and after a few motions of the head of my cock along her entire luscious length, I inserted myself into her velvet pussy... she moaned with sheer delight again, and several strokes later, I came into her again, powerfully, and with a profound sense of the sheer rightness of what we were doing. It was so satisfying to know that my seed was on its way, and that this act of joy and pleasure and unity might bring forth more life. Intoxicating, in fact...

She wept again, and kissed me over and over... She cried with the sheer happiness of being valued for herself, and not as an object of pleasure for others’ gratification. I held her throughout the night, and slipped away inn the early morning to buy eggs, coffee and a flower.

When she awoke, and saw the flower that was meant for her, she began to weep again... we spent that Saturday laughing, and holding each other, and kissing, and walking, and making love...

We were married several months later, at which time the real joy began.