Shy, curvy college student Marissa has a naughty crush on the university’s sexiest instructor, Professor Martin. When he asks for a private word after class one day, Marissa believes she must be in trouble. What could this gorgeous man possibly want with a thicker woman? She’s shocked and turned on to find that Professor Martin has a weakness for curves, and he has a special treat for his new favorite student!

Excerpt:

I frowned, a little stung. “Of course I care about your class! How could you think I don’t?”

“You never answer my questions during lecture, and you never have any questions for me afterward. So -- you either know the material, or you have no intention of learning it. You’ve done well on your tests, but that could just be luck.”

I shook my head, finally meeting his eyes again. “No, sir! I love your class, and I work hard for it.”

What was he getting at? I was so confused!

He seemed content with my answer. “It pleases me to hear that, Marissa. But may I ask you something? If you care so much about my class, why do you never talk to me about it? I try to be welcoming to all my students -- have I not been welcoming to you?”

“No, sir. It’s not that. It’s just that…well, you’re always with those other girls, and I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“…that you would rather talk to them than me.”

A boyish smile played at the corner of his lips. “Why would you think that?”

“Because they’re so…” I looked at him helplessly. “They’re beautiful.”

“And you don’t think you’re also beautiful?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

He leaned forward again. The boyish smile remained. “Marissa, I would never touch any of those girls.”

A possibility dawned on me.

“Are you…gay?” I tried to say it politely, but there was no way to phrase it without sounding a little rude.

Professor Martin chuckled. “No. I’m not gay. I can assure you, Marissa, the young men who come to see me receive the same rebuff as the young women.”

I felt some relief, though I still didn’t understand. “Then why don’t you want them?”

“They’re not my type.” He looked at me with a slight smile. “I like a very specific kind of woman.”

Was I supposed to ask what kind? Did I dare? I knew it was probably silly of me to even think about it. Professor Martin had no reason to be flirting with me. But part of me was excited just to be near him, and that part hoped and prayed that he did, indeed, want to be asked.

I swallowed and asked nervously, “What kind is that?”

His smile broadened. “One more like you.”

My breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened. I stared at him in total shock. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

No. I had to have misheard him. Either that or it was all a cruel joke, the worst I’d endured since middle school.

“Are you listening, Marissa? This is why I wanted to speak to you today, after all.”

“I am listening, sir,” I said quietly. “I just… I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying, Marissa, that if I were going to fuck one of my students, it would be you.”

My heart stopped. My voice came out in a whimper. “Excuse me?”

Professor Martin laughed. “It seems we’re having an unfortunate miscommunication. Perhaps I should show you instead.”

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