Diving In

As I mentioned previously, I will be writing a fictional piece on the 15th of each month. The following is the first one.

All semester I'd been watching him. Sure, I watched him because I needed to learn the subject matter, but I looked at him in a different way too, a way that distracted me from really paying attention to history class.
I daydreamed. I thought about my fingers in his curly brown hair, about his eyes really looking at me (perhaps naked), about his hard chest under the fitted black t-shirt, having him smile at me like when I answered questions correctly. And those hands, god how I wanted them to touch me, caress me and grab my hips. I watched his hands fiddle with the chalk while he spoke.
Sometimes I would take a few extra minutes organizing and putting away notes and books on the off chance that he would talk to me - after everyone left. Other times I would have read an interesting little tidbit that was slightly relevant just so that I could have something history related to talk to him about after class for a minute or two. In these moments my heart beat faster and I felt warm and tingly. After leaving the classroom I would think about how silly and cliche it was for me to imagine doing anything with him - a professor who barely seemed to notice me other than my academic prowess, despite the low-cut blouses and short skirts I often wore to class.
Then something happened that made me crush crazy. I was at the swimming pool getting ready to leave after diving team practice. There he was at the edge of the pool, in a speedo! Oh my lord, what a body - not only was his chest built, he also had the chiseled indentations from his hipbones down to the clearly outlined, large package. I fumbled around in my bag for a minute, avoiding eye contact. I ducked back into the dressing room, acting as if I'd forgotten something. I stood against the cold metal locker, catching my breath and trying to think of what I could say to him. I was wet and looked like a drowned rat with my frumpy workout clothing on. Okay, I thought to myself, I'll just smile and wave, maybe say hi and walk out cooly.
I pulled the heavy door open quickly and confidently, ready to give a casual smile and walk back to my dorm. He was on the 3 meter diving board, facing away from me and my voyeuristic and hunk gazing instincts took over. While I had a clear chance to escape, I just stood there watching as he preparing for an inward or back dive.

He bounced on the board for what seemed like an eternity and then dove, a beautiful inward two-and-a-half. He emerged, brushing his hair back and I

instinctively applauded his splashless dive. He turned, and saw me halfway down the length of the pool. A smile spread on his lips. He ducked his head back into the water and swam away toward the ladder. I turned to walk out. "See you tomorrow morning" he called as he stood at the base of the diving board. "Okay" I replied as I waved over my shoulder. My heart pounded hard in my chest as I tried to walk slowly and nonchalantly.

That night I took a long shower, playing with myself and thinking of my hot speedo wearing professor. Naughty images of things that shouldn't happen between a nineteen year old girl and older man (I didn't know how old he was, maybe thirty five) danced in my head. I thought about him rummaging through the pile of papers on his desk after class, trying to find something related to what we were talking about and me bending over, pantiless, to pick up some papers that fell on the floor and him catching a glance as he walked behind me help pick up papers. I imagined asking if he'd like to touch after noticing a bulge forming in his pants. I closed my eyes and rubbed my hands over my body, tingling as I imagined my hands being his, on my neck, breasts, thighs and wet pussy. My breaths became short soft moans as this fantasy came to life in my mind. As I imagined him locking the door of the classroom and turning back toward me, I exploded. My head went from cold, to hot and fuzzy as warm, pulsating waves rippled through my vagina. I continued to replay that moment and the few seconds that might follow as he removed his shirt, until my legs and stomach felt heavy and ached with satisfaction and exhaustion.

To be continued...