Share
MidReal Story
Teach Me Series
Scenario:uno syidentr molto sexu seduce la sua professoressa
Create my version of this story
Julian
charismatic, and enigmatic. Julian captivates his professor, Dr. Jennifer Hart, with his unexpected presence in her office. His aura of calmness and commanding demeanor intrigue Jennifer, who is taken aback by his assertiveness. Despite his strong impact on those around him, Julian remains poised and controlled, hinting at a complex and possibly troubled background.
Annie
efficient, and professional. Annie handles administrative tasks with ease, ensuring that Jennifer remains informed about any important communications or developments. Her interaction with Julian is brief but demonstrates her ability to maintain composure in the presence of his charisma. Annie’s role supports the smooth functioning of Jennifer’s work environment and helps maintain the professional atmosphere despite the unexpected interruption caused by Julian’s arrival.
Dr. Jennifer Hart
composed, and curious. Initially unsettled by Julian's sudden arrival in her office, she becomes intrigued by his presence and charisma. Jennifer's controlled demeanor is evident as she attempts to maintain professionalism in the face of Julian's seductive charm. Her interest in him is evident, and she seeks to uncover more about this captivating student who has left a lasting impression on her.
I was a youthful seducer, confident in my own abilities.
I had already seduced a few women, and I knew how to make them fall for me.
I had also learned how to keep them under my control.
And now, I had set my sights on my professor, Dr. Jennifer Hart.
As I entered her office, I knew that I had to make an impression on her.
I took a deep breath and walked in, closing the door behind me.
Dr. Hart looked up from her work and was startled to see me.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
I didn't answer right away, and instead, walked over to the window.
It was a cold winter morning, and the snow was falling gently outside.
I stood there for a moment, looking out at it.
Then I turned around and faced her.
"I'm your new student," I said with a smile.
Dr. Hart looked taken aback.
"I wasn't aware of any new students," she said.
"I'm new here," I said again.
"I just transferred from another university."
Dr. Hart looked confused.
"I wasn't informed about any new students," she said again.
I didn't answer her right away, and instead walked over to her desk.
I reached out and took her hand in mine.
She looked shocked and tried to pull away.
I maintained eye contact with her as I released her hand, letting my fingers trail slowly across her palm.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly pulled her hand back to her chest.
We sat there in silence for a moment, the tension between us palpable.
She struggled to compose herself, while I simply stared at her, my eyes never leaving hers.
The sound of a knock on the door broke the silence, and Annie poked her head in with a stack of papers in her hand.
"Dr. Hart, I have those papers you asked for," she said.
Dr. Hart straightened up in her chair and smoothed out her blouse with trembling fingers.
"Thank you, Annie," she said, taking the papers from her.
Annie glanced at me briefly before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.
I stepped back from Dr. Hart's desk and leaned against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest.
The winter light streaming through the window cast long shadows across the room, and I could see the fear in Dr. Hart's eyes as she looked at me.
I smiled to myself, knowing that I had already gotten under her skin.
"I apologize, Doctor Hart," I said finally, turning towards the door.
I maintained my position against the wall, watching Dr. Hart fumble with the papers Annie had brought in.
Her hands trembled slightly as she attempted to organize them, stealing quick glances in my direction.
The room felt smaller now, charged with an unspoken tension.
When she dropped a sheet of paper, I moved swiftly to retrieve it, deliberately brushing against her leg as I rose.
She stepped back, bumping into her desk chair.
At that moment, Helen appeared at the doorway with a concerned expression on her face.
"Dr. Hart, are you alright?"
Dr. Hart took the opportunity to escape my proximity.
"Yes, Helen," she replied, her voice strained.
"Thank you for checking in."
Helen's gaze shifted towards me, and I could sense a mix of confusion and suspicion in her eyes.
I offered her a polite smile and a slight bow of my head before excusing myself from the room.
As I reached the threshold, I couldn't help but steal one last glance at Dr. Hart.
I linger at the doorway, my hand resting on the frame as I turn back to the office.
Dr. Hart sits rigid in her chair, her fingers gripping the scattered papers while Helen hovers protectively nearby.
Annie has retreated to her desk outside but keeps glancing through the doorway, her curiosity evident.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows across Dr. Hart's face, accentuating her unease.
I maintain eye contact with her, letting a gentle smile play across my lips.
Her breath catches when I slowly incline my head in acknowledgment.
The gesture seems to both comfort and unsettle her further.
I walk slowly down the empty hallway, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor.
At the building's entrance, I pause to pull out my phone.
I navigate to the university's website and open Dr. Hart's faculty profile.
Her office number and email are listed prominently, but it's the personal cell phone number I'm interested in.
I had caught a glimpse of it on a post-it note on her desk earlier.
I enter the number into my contacts, saving it under the name "Jennifer."
My thumb hovers over the keypad for a moment as I contemplate my next move.
Not yet, I decide.
The timing needs to be perfect.
I sit in my car in the university parking lot, watching as snowflakes gently fall onto the windshield.
My phone rests on my thigh, and I pull up the image I took of Dr. Hart's desk calendar earlier.
Her schedule is neatly filled with appointments and meetings.
I focus on the entry for today: a faculty meeting that ends at 4 PM.
I check the time on my phone—3:55.
Perfect.
I pull out my notebook and begin drafting several possible messages, each designed to unsettle her further.
Some are too forward, others too tame.
Finally, I settle on the right words.
My thumb hovers over the send button, waiting for the precise moment when she'll be gathering her belongings, vulnerable to distraction.
I press send, knowing the message will land just as she steps out of the meeting room, her guard down.
From my car, I watch as Dr. Hart pushes through the heavy glass doors of the faculty building.
She pauses at the top of the steps, pulling her coat tighter around her as the snow falls harder.
Her phone buzzes in her purse.
She reaches in to retrieve it, and I notice her hands tremble slightly as she holds it up to read the screen.
The glow illuminates her face, and her shoulders tense.
She looks around the empty courtyard, but my car is hidden in the shadows, and she doesn't see me.
She starts walking faster toward the parking lot, clutching her phone tightly in her hand.
"Jennifer, is everything alright?" Helen's voice crackles through the phone, concern evident in her tone.
Dr. Hart hesitates, glancing around the deserted lot before replying, "I just got another one of those messages, Helen."
Helen's voice drops to a whisper, urgency lacing her words, "We need to report this now—it's not safe to ignore it any longer."
I follow Dr. Hart's car at a safe distance as she drives home through the snowy streets.
She takes the usual route, winding along River Road, which hugs the steep embankment overlooking the frozen river below.
Through her rear window, I notice she keeps glancing at her phone at each red light, her brow furrowed in worry.
As she approaches the sharpest curve on the road, her tires hit a patch of black ice.
The car begins to slide toward the guardrail, threatening to break through and plummet down the embankment.
I accelerate, positioning my car to block her path.
The impact jolts my body forward against the seatbelt as I collide with her vehicle.
Her car comes to a stop mere inches from the guardrail, its bumper crumpled against mine.
Dr. Hart sits frozen behind the wheel, realizing how close she came to disaster.
I jump out of my car into the biting cold, snow crunching under my boots as I rush to her driver's side window.
Her hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and her chest heaves with panicked breaths.
Through the frosted glass, I see tears streaming down her face.
The crash has left a deep dent in my car's passenger side, but I don't care about that now.
All that matters is her.
I rap my knuckles against her window with increasing urgency.
She flinches at the sound but doesn't look at me.
I knock again, harder this time, watching as her shoulders tense.
"Jennifer, it's me, open the door," I call out, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
Her eyes finally meet mine through the glass, recognition dawning amidst her fear.
With a shaky hand, she unlocks the door, whispering, "Why are you doing this?"
I sit beside her in the cold car, our breaths visible in the chill air.
The engine ticks as it cools, and snow continues falling around us.
She's trembling, mascara running down her cheeks.
When I reach toward her face, she flinches but doesn't pull away.
My fingers brush against her skin, wiping away a tear.
Her breath catches as I move closer, my other hand resting on the headrest behind her.
The leather seat creaks under my weight.
She stares at me, waiting.
The question forms on my lips as I lean in, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Jennifer, what's wrong?"
I lean back slightly in the passenger seat, giving her space while still being close enough to feel her warmth.
Her breathing comes in short gasps as she struggles to compose herself.
When she tries to speak, her voice cracks.
She clears her throat and tries again, but it's still barely a whisper.
I notice her hands are still gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white.
The snow continues falling outside, casting a serene silence over the scene.
The only sounds are the tick of the hazard lights and our heavy breathing.
She glances at her phone on the dashboard, then back at me.
Finally, she speaks, her voice a fragile whisper.
"I've been getting these messages for weeks. Threatening messages."
I pull my phone from my pocket, keeping my other hand close to her shoulder.
The phone's screen lights up, and I pretend to dial a number.
She grabs my wrist, stopping me.
"No, you can't call the police," she says, her voice hitching.
"The messages... they know things. Things only someone who knows me well would know."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.
"What kind of things?"
She hesitates, then continues in a shaky voice.
"They know what I do in the morning, what I wear. They even know what I say in my office."
I frown, confused.
"How could they know all that?"
She shrugs, tears forming in her eyes again.
"I don't know. It's like they're watching me."
I stroke her hair gently with one hand while keeping my other hand on the phone.
"Jennifer, I'm here for you. We'll figure this out together."
She leans into my touch, seeking comfort from the very person she should fear most.
"Jennifer, you need to trust me," I say softly, trying to reassure her.
Her eyes search mine, filled with doubt and fear.
"But how can I, when you're the only one who knows all those things?" she whispers, her voice trembling.
I watch as realization spreads across her face.
Her eyes widen with fresh tears, but she doesn't pull away from my touch.
Instead, she straightens up and wipes her face, her breathing steadying.
"Come to my home," she says quietly, her voice trembling.
"I'll host you, and we can... discuss this."
I notice her hands still shake as she grips the wheel, but there's a new determination in her posture.
When I agree, she starts the car without looking at me.
I follow her car to her house, keeping a safe distance behind as she leads the way through quiet residential streets.
When we reach her driveway, she parks but stays in her car until I pull up beside her.
She doesn't look at me as she gets out and heads to the front door.
Inside, her modern townhouse is dimly lit, but she quickly turns on lights as we move from room to room.
She hangs up our wet coats and then leads me to the living room.
As she moves around the room, her hands still shake slightly.
"Can I get you a drink?"
Her voice wavers between fear and forced hospitality.
I decline, and she nods before gesturing toward the stairs.
"You should take a warm bath," she says, her voice trembling.
"The bathroom's upstairs. You can use whatever you need."
"Jennifer, are you sure you want me to stay?" I ask, sensing her unease.
She hesitates, then nods, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I need to know if it's really you," she admits, her eyes searching mine for answers.
I sit on the couch, watching her pour herself a glass of wine.
The room is dimly lit, with only a few lamps illuminating the space.
She grips the wine glass too tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"Jennifer," I say softly, my voice carrying in the quiet room.
Her eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of fear and uncertainty.
"Have you been sending me those messages?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hold her gaze, not looking away.
I nod slowly, my movements deliberate.
The glass in her hand trembles slightly, but she doesn't drop it.
Instead of screaming or running away, she takes a long sip of her wine and then sets the glass down carefully on the coffee table.
The clink of the glass against the surface echoes in the silence of the room.
She stands up, smoothing down her skirt with nervous hands.
Without saying a word, she walks towards the stairs.
At the bottom step, she pauses and turns to look at me.
"Why?" she asks, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and reply, "Because I needed you to see the truth."
Her eyes narrow slightly, a mix of anger and confusion clouding her expression.