We recently asked our readers to share their tales of hooking up with their college professors—a project inspired by Harvard’s recent ban on student-professor relationships. And, well, our readers delivered. Without further comment, here are their 10 best submissions. You can read the rest in the comments here. Missed the original post? Share your own story below.
I’ve hooked up with two, both married, but the first one told me he and his wife had an open marriage. He was a visiting prof from California and was the kind of guy who played guitar in class, while his wife had remained in Cali. (This was a school on the east coast.)
He called me into his office to discuss a poor grade I’d gotten on the midterm. His office was entirely furnished with bean bag chairs. Instead of discussing my grade, he told me about his “difficult childhood” and then changed my grade to an A because he could just tell that clearly I “get” poetry. (It was a poetry class.)
I could tell he was a creep, but was sort of into the taboo-ness of it. We flirted openly for the rest of the semester, he gave me an A I didn’t deserve (though I would have slept with him regardless), then he invited me out to bubble tea so he could officially state his desire to sex me.
He invited me over to dinner at his house, which was macrobiotic, he claimed to be a master of karmic sex magic, and revealed that he had a special room in his house just for sex, which was covered in purple velvet. When I laughed at him, he said, “You’ll learn to like the sex room.” The sex was just ok.
The next morning, he had a major guilt attack, revealed the open marriage thing to be a lie, and repeatedly questioned whether I had HIV. (The sex was unprotected, though I was on the pill.) He was leaving back to California the next day, and I didn’t hear from him again until he drunkenly called me a year later wanting phone sex. I declined.
The second one was less creepy, but also weird. We were deeply attracted to each other, but he didn’t want to cheat on his wife, so we would do things like spend the night in hotel rooms cuddling naked, but not even kissing. It was extremely frustrating.
2. The Law Professor (By Grovercle)
I hooked up with my law school professor. I was 29; he was 45, bald, and out of shape, but there was just something about him. I worked in the field he taught prior to law school, so I was more knowledgeable on the subject matter than the average student in the class and we always exchanged witty banter back and forth.
After the class ended, we ran into each other at a networking event. It was an open bar and we both drank too much. We exchanged phone numbers under the guise of networking. The next day, he texted that he was embarrassed he may have said some things he shouldn’t have. I replied that I didn’t think he did, and I certainly don’t recall being offended by anything. “Are you sure? I vaguely remember saying that I would sleep with you.” I replied, “No, that must have been in your head.”
Him: “Is it in your head too?” I was basically dying at this point, but thought, what the hell. I replied, “Yes.” Thus began a several months long affair that consisted of lots of sexting, sex in my place (including a threesome with another man) and quickies in his car, and never being in public together or going on dates.
I broke it off because I eventually figured out he was happily married and still living with his wife. At the start of things, he indicated that he was separated from his wife and in the process of a divorce. Lies.
So threesome details. Hope this satisfies you perverts.
We were exchanging fantasies, and I mentioned that MFM porn was my favorite and I would love to experience it. Professor Sleazeball was very turned on by this and encouraged me to find someone as a third. I set up an account on Adult Friend Finder and found the perfect guy. He was totally my physical type: tall, defined muscles, light hair, blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw. We met at a bar first to see if we all got along, and we did, so we left for my place.
You would think the situation would have been slightly awkward, but it wasn’t at all and completely lived up to my fantasies. Professor encouraged me to kiss Third while he watched, and then I would kiss Professor. Things escalated from there, at first each taking turns, and then eventually it turned into more of a group activity. We even DP’ed, which was INTENSE. I was always the center of attention and there was never any deliberate physical contact between the guys.
Afterwards, Professor Sleazeball and I would exchange our favorite details of the encounter. Then he started to say things like, “Would you have liked it if I sucked his cock?” Um, no, I would not have. I think the threesome was basically his way of having a sexual experience with another man and still feel “straight,” if that makes sense. Basically just dipping his toes in. I definitely don’t think that’s always or even usually the case for guys in MFMs, but I’m pretty sure it was for him.
After I figured out about the wife, Third texted me hoping for round two. We met and hooked up sans Prof, and then ended up dating for 6 months or so. We told our friends we met online.
Early 80’s, Midwestern state school, I had a flaming affair with one of my literature professors. His wife was in a long term coma, so 19 year old me had zero compunction about a never present wife in a faraway nursing home. All kinds of nonsense, including on the desk of his office, while students played frisbee on the quad below.
At the end of a particularly torrid summer, he sat me down for The Talk (which I had been expecting, as I assumed we couldn’t carry on with the same aplomb as we had been, even in those freewheeling days). But no, it was to tell me we had to knock it off BECAUSE HE WAS IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER STUDENT, who was coming back that fall.
I pretty much stopped going to class, as all of my courses were held in his building, with him as professor, or with the student who supplanted me. Dropped out of school, moved away, got married, moved to another state, established residency, and finally graduated college.
The worst part was that I LOVED him. Loved loved loved him. He drove an unusual car and when I saw one of them I would flinch and my heart would race, ten years and thousands of miles away. I dreamed about him for twenty years, no lie.
Tl;dr: He lent me books, he broke my schoolgirl heart.
I’m a guy, and my first time with another guy was with a professor of mine.
I was a Senior at college, and not quite out yet at the time. Because I had to work, I usually didn’t go home during school breaks, and would hang out with a bunch of friends who also stuck around when the college was otherwise closed. One night during spring break I was supposed to catch up with these friends to go bar-hopping, but I got out of work late and missed them at the first stop on our rounds, a bar not far from campus.
While my friends weren’t there, I did spot one of my professors; while I didn’t have him for a class that particular semester, he was in my major’s field and we saw other often (it was a somewhat small college). He was also gay, and while he thought he was closeted, it was a pretty open secret on campus.
I also thought he was very attractive.
So with a plan in mind, I went up to him to say hello. Which turned into a lengthy conservation. Which turned into me becoming increasingly flirty/aggressive with him. He deflected it at first, but gradually he became clearly interested...and nervous. After all, messing around with a student could seriously backfire on him. But eventually I won him over with promises of discretion, and we went back to his place for the night.
I had a great time, and hope he did too. We only hooked up that one time, and kept things casual when we crossed paths for the remainder of the semester. I didn’t told this story to any one until more than a decade later, and have never divulged his name to anyone.
On the flip side, I taught at a large southern hemisphere university (as somewhere between a TA and a professor, basically an industry professional who taught some classes.) Yeah, I hooked up with some students. Always* outside of marking periods, though.
About five years after I graduated college, I got an invitation to return to my alma mater to do some teaching. I would lead a weekly tutorial group of anywhere between 15 and 25 students in their second and third years, so they’re 19-21 or so. I was 25, newly single and had a good job in the industry I was teaching.
I taught on the side of my regular job for three years. Fucking sensational hourly rate, and I really enjoyed teaching. I got hit on for extensions/grade reviews a lot my first semester, and couldn’t fathom that that’s what was happening until later.
The first time I hooked up with a student, it was via (of all things) the IM feature on the Words With Friends app. I was teaching an English-related course, so I challenged a lot of students to play. This one sent me a drunk IM on the app one Saturday night right after semester finished, I replied (equally drunk), and we ended up trading numbers. We texted back and forth for a couple days before she made it very clear that she wanted a no-strings sexual relationship. I was equally clear that I wasn’t interested in dating. It culminated in me driving to her (parents’) place late one Friday night and getting a blowjob while parked across the street. Despite the clear “no relationship” boundaries we’d set, she quickly “fell in love” and I had to cut it off before it got any worse. She showed up at my doorstep crying, banging on the door, asking the neighbors to let her into the apartment building. Bullet dodged. She was engaged less than a year later. Great blowjob though, and I’ve always wondered whether I shouldn’t have just slept with her once.
* The second and most rewarding time was the following semester, when a ton of email banter with a student closer to my age (she was 22, I was 26) turned real flirtatious and real frequent. We’re talking 75 emails a day back and forth. I decided a few weeks out from the end of semester that once I was done marking her work, I was going to throw caution to the wind and ask her on a date. My plan was forced into action early when she told me she was going overseas for the entirety of summer break, so I thought “fuck it” and asked her. She responded, “of course! All this flirting had to go somewhere, right?” She came over on the spur of the moment for dinner and a movie the following night, and we were barely apart after that until she went overseas for a month. We dated for around six months. She was also one of my best students classwork-wise, so marking her assignments never felt like I was giving her a grade she didn’t deserve.
Once I picked up the pieces of my shattered heart after we broke up, there were a couple more student hookups in my final year of teaching. Both of them started off as email banter and ended up getting more personal. One of them had heard through the grapevine that I’d been through a bad break-up and (platonically, while still being my student) taught me a few things about moving on and loving myself. We ended up having Thai food, cheap wine and a bunch of sex one night after semester was over, and we’re still friends now.
It’s probably lucky I stopped teaching when I did though. There’s a big difference between “being four years older than the girls you’re teaching, and sleeping with them after semester” and “being 10 years older than them.”
I first met him in a summer school class, an elective for my major, and during the next 6 weeks, I grew completely infatuated, although respectfully studently. I had a boyfriend and was NOT the type to think I would EVER hook up with a professor, much less one who was divorced and 15 years older than me. But there was SOMETHING THERE. Since he wasn’t in my particular discipline, I had no other classes with him. But over the next year I saw him around the building where he and I had classes, and I went out of my way to be places and events where he would be, just because it was so wonderful just talking to him and being with him. There was SOMETHING THERE. The boyfriend just could not compare, so he was gone. Long story short, there WAS SOMETHING THERE. One day I was going to give a snack to a friend who didn’t show, and I ran into him and shared it with him instead. He sweetly asked if I wanted to share lunch with him on campus the next day. I did. It was September, a year after our class together, and by the end of December we were married. 37 years and 2 wonderful children later, we both look upon the whole thing as a dream come true.
I ran into a former PoliSci professor of mine on campus one day and sat down to chat because A) he was that hot professor that everyone drooled over and B) he had recently written me a recommendation letter. He was about to leave my university for a different teaching position, so I suggested we get coffee to catch up. He goes “How ‘bout happy hour instead? We’ll go somewhere that’s easy on fakes.” I was 19 at the time.
The happy hour night started at a normal bar, and progressed to a karaoke bar where we started making out due to the combination of alcohol and moving renditions of 80s anthems. A nice lady next to us said we were cute couple. Be reminded—this is a 40 year old and a 19 year old at a dive bar. Anyways, when he asked me to come home with him, I demanded he rap Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” in order to prove he was still hip with the times. He failed miserably, but it was kind of cute.
We went back to his place which, surprise, was a dorm on campus because he was an in resident faculty member. We proceeded to have wild sex all night, after which he asked me to go to a wedding with him later that weekend. I kindly declined and responded to any subsequent texts with a polite “thanks, but no thanks.”
Fun fact— he wrote another letter of rec for me a few months later.
The setting: a small liberal arts college in the Hudson Valley. Throughout my sophomore and junior years, rumors fluttered that I was romancing my advisor, a very well-liked English professor. You know the one. We’ll call him Dr. Dude.
Also during this time, I started gaining a lot of notoriety for winning writing contests, garnering low-level grants, and the like. People harrumphed, often believing my faculty paramour was behind this success. It heightened my already-wild reputation, especially among the male members in my Creative Writing major. I relished the attention; I neither confirmed or denied the whispers. Bad move.
Towards the spring of my junior year, I took up with a senior who had the same advisor, Dr. Dude. There I was, at the top of my academic game, about to have my pick of MFA programs, with a brooding, bearded boyfriend to boot. Until one day I found myself in bed with that boyfriend for the first time and he grunted, “Call me Dr. Dude.” Ignore. “Pretend I’m Dr. Dude.” Do not subscribe. “Scream Dr. Dude!” Defriend.
The worst part? I went along with it, more than once—for a few months even—until the mess ended shortly before the summer. As for Dr. Dude, we never hooked up after all. I felt bad about entertaining the rumors until I met a girl who had in fact done the deed. She said Dr. Dude had a horrible case of psoriasis...everywhere. :(
Long time lurker, first time poster here. Couldn’t pass this one up, so here goes..
In college I was very fit and highly sexual, simply because I could back then. I worked out often at the college gym/rec center and often would see a very built, very attractive man in his mid-to-late thirties with lightly graying hair, working out. Man, did I enjoy watching him lift weights. (Mind you, this guy was not a meat head, just a bookish, quiet but fit guy). So fast forward about 6 months and at this point I’d seen him around campus and the gym and had figured out he was faculty, just not in my major. This one day, he finally walks over and initiates conversation. Inside, I am STOKED! (I am 22, wth). We continue talking and go for a run on the inside track, and afterwards, he invites me to come over to his place and have dinner. So of course I say yes because at this point I had been SERIOUSLY fantasizing about him nearly every day and getting off to the thought of him for a while.
That night, I head over, dressed in jeans and casual clothing, and get to his house. Looks nice from the outside, I think, then I knock on the door. Door opens, he looks nicely dressed, music is playing but something stinks faintly like dog pee. I go in, we converse (I’m thinking sexy pounce-on-you thoughts this whole time), have wine, have dinner and the question eventually comes up as to why he’s single. I should have NEVER asked. Mood goes from happy and mellow to he’s a sad sack and starts sniffling. At this point I am no longer distracted by sexy times thoughts and I start looking around. The carpet hasn’t been vacuumed in what looks like months, clothes are all over the chair backs and there were dog pee spots on the living room floor. “OK,” I think, “move past this and bone him because this is your only chance.”
And that’s what I did folks; about 6x that night and it was the most intensely sexual and primal sex I have had up until I met my now-husband. We ended up hooking up a few more times but as I got to know him more I realized he was really still hung up on his ex-wife and 22 year old me had no concept of grief, so it weirded me out and eventually I stopped returning his calls.
I still feel bad about that, all these 14 years later, but I definitely do not feel bad about the toe curling sex with the hot, buff, sad-sack psychology professor. :)
This is more about my girlfriend, although I was a willing accessory.
This happened at a state school that will remain nameless, 6 years ago. I was dating a great girl, not too serious, but we were monogamous and things were good. We were taking an English class together with a not bad looking 30-something guy teaching the class.
After a few weeks, my girlfriend and I both noticed that the professor was flirting with her. It was merely amusing at first. She was flattered I guess. After a few weeks she got an e-mail from him. A little chatty. That night in bed I brought it up, teased her about it, told her how much he clearly wanted to have sex with her. To both our surprises, it suddenly got heated, we found not just her, but myself as well, got turned on by the subject. Resulted in some good sex to say the least.
His e-mails continued, we enjoyed our little game. To say it started dominating our sex life is an understatement. Role playing, the works.
Fast forward towards the end of the semester, my girlfriend had to miss a class for some reason the next day. A paper was due that class. She e-mailed him about it. He replied saying no problem, maybe she could just drop it off at his place later. It was his move. We were on the couch as she read it. I still remember that conversation like it was yesterday. “He’s going to try to fuck you.” Within seconds we were going at it. “You’re going to let him aren’t you?” Then I said, “I want you to.”
Next day she is heading over to his place. We are both horny as hell. She texted me, “You still want me to?” I replied, “yes.” Seconds later all she replied was, “Good.”
Three hours go by. I’m going crazy with anticipation. Finally she gets back to my place. One look at her face and I knew it had happened. We spent the next 4 hours in bed as she told me every detail while we had the hottest sex I’ll ever have.
Needless to say, she got an A for the class and I discovered that I’m a dirty pervert. That was a great class.