Professor can’t keep his eyes off comely coed’s calves. Then she can’t keep ‘em off him.
Professor Dawson stared hard at Leanna’s legs, specifically her calves. The college junior was gorgeous, blonde hair spilling over her little shoulders, diminutive at 5 feet and 100 pounds, but stunning in her beauty and body. She was a dancer by trade, doing stripping on the side to work her way through college, and it showed mostly in those amazing, meaty and sexily muscular legs. Leanna’s thighs rippled in her tight pants she usually wore, clearly evident even through the fabric, but down below is what caught Dawson’s eyes every time, Leanna’s rocky, well-formed and wonderful muscled calves which this day were revealed in the knee-length tight slacks the little blonde wore.
He was purposeful, the professor, making Leanna sit in front for talking too much to her friends, and getting her to the board whenever possible when she wore calf-revealing clothing as she did today, deliberately writing the problems a little high so she’d have to stretch to write it out. He’d sit in her chair when she did, pretending to be interested in her work, calling out to her to do this or that, usually condescendingly, all the while staring at the meaty white calves on this little vixen’s succulent body.
“Professor, can I speak with you after class?” she whispered to him as she returned to her seat this day.
“Certainly, young lady, I’m accessible to all my students,” he said.
“Especially the calfy ones, right?” she said quietly, winking at him.
“The, uh, what?” he said , not sure of what she said.
“Nothing, Professor Dawson, we’ll talk later.”
He watched her smile at him as she snuggled into her seat, crossing her legs, a meaty flare of calf muscle along her shiny shinbones, the sexiest pose he’d seen her do yet, all in innocence, he assumed, though he was sure she said ‘calfy ones’ a moment ago. He couldn’t think the rest of the class and couldn’t wait until it was over, all the while lecturing and watching Leanna slowly bounce that thick calf off her other leg as it lay crossed so sexily before him.
The students filed out when the bell rang and Leanna sat, affixing the professor with a slight smile. When they were gone, she asked him to lock the door. Nervously, he obeyed and then leaned back on his desk, just a few feet from Leanna’s ridiculously muscular calves.
“You like them don’t you professor?” she cooed.
“Like….them?” he asked.
“My calves, you like my calves,” she said plainly, catching him by surprise but delighting him with her candor nonetheless. “You like looking at my muscular calves, I notice. That’s OK, they’re very muscular, very sexy, very strong…and very demanding.”
“Uh, demanding?” he asked nervously, his 55-year-old composure coming unglued as she now spread her legs and leaned forward, elbows on her knees, toes curled and flexing those insane calves into thick balls of meat above her slender ankles.
“Yes, Professor Dawson, demanding,” she said. “My calves…oh, and they’re 14 inches around, if you keep track of that sort of thing, not huge but on a girl my size, they do look massive, don’t they?”
He gulped loudly. He did keep track of that sort of thing and 14-inch calves on ANY woman was impressive, particularly someone so small. He was just thinking scissor thoughts when she completed them for him, taking him by total surprise.
“You’d like them scissored around you, wouldn’t you professor?” she smiled, now wiggling the calf flesh at him, vibrating it momentarily and then flexing it hard, snapping it into muscular shape. “You like scissors, I’ll bet, you like a woman to wrap her strong thighs and calves around you and squeeze, don’t you?”
His cock stiffened in his trousers, and that hadn’t happened in ages. He stared at her confident look and that, along with the sight of her twin 14-inch calves mounted meatily above her ankles, was the biggest turn on he’d experienced in too many years.
“Yesss,” he croaked, dry mouthed. “Oh, Leanna, yessssss, yesssss….”
“Is it worth an A, professor?” she said with an evil smile.
He balked. She was a B student at best, C for the most part, but to give her an A. She sensed his hesitation and stood up, walking to him slowly, spinning around and putting her hands on her little hips to stand on tippy toes, all 14-inches of her tremendous calves bulging as if 28 inches. He moaned out loud, not even knowing he was. His cock stirred again in his pants.
“Are they worth an A, professor,” she cooed over her shoulder, “if I do THIS to you with them??”
She leaned forward now on her hands and expertly sprang back, legs open, those amazing calves flying around his neck smoothly, the silky yet rock-hard flesh of them locking securely around the sides of his neck as he sat back on his desk, stunned by the suddenness and accuracy of her leggy assault first, then by the intense pain. Leanna’s calves hurt and hurt badly, the chiseled interiors like jagged flesh-covered rocks knifing painfully into the sides of his neck. And seconds later, mere seconds if that, he was groggy and light headed, recognizing the sleeper hold her calves had on him, the meaty muscle slicing to a crawl the flow of consciousness-giving blood to his brain.
“Leanna….plesssshhh,” he slurred, hands falling to his side as he watched her mammoth calves ripple and pinch around his jawbones as they crushed his neck flatter than flat.
“Oh, Professor, I won’t kill you, but I MIGHT knock you out in my calves!” she teased, easing up and then rolling forward in a somersault to come up to her feet, spinning to walk back to him as he slumped to his knees off the desk, head at calf level.
She giggled and stepped forward, those calves closing on the sides of his tender neck again, squeezing, slowing the blood, making him groggy. She was toying with him, causing him to fear death as her muscular calves knifed in on him again and again, dragging him by the calf full to the edge of sleep before letting him stay awake. His brain swam numbly, eyes watching stars explode before them, hands vainly clutching the madly pulsating meat pads that were Leanna’s crushing calves.
“This is my calf class, professor, just showing you what my calves can and will do to you if you play along!” she hissed down at him. “Now, do I get my A? If I don’t….”
She stopped and backed away, sitting at her seat and looking very proper now as she draped her jacket over her lap, hiding her pumped calves.
“No more calves for you!” she laughed. “So, what’ll it be?”
Dawson rubbed his eyes and swept away the stubborn cobwebs before them, blood finally coursing back to his scissor-addled brain. She pulled the jacket away for him, flashing her calves, bulging the muscles above her ankles, smiling at him and then slamming her legs out straight to scissor his imaginary head, lips pursed coyly and smiling.
“An A it is, young lady,” he sighed, struggling to return to his seat to tap up her name and stats on the computer and make the adjustment. “But you MUST stay every day for calf class!”
“Not a problem, professor, not a problem,” she smiled, standing up and walking dominantly toward him, those big calves flashing and flexing. “I’m ALWAYS up for a little extra-scissoracula activity!”
The End
