Peeking at Professor's Clandestine Dorm Room Hookup

I never thought my freshman year at Eldridge University would turn me into a peeping tom, but there I was, crammed into the narrow closet of my suitemate Lisa's dorm room, heart pounding like a drum in my chest. It started innocently enough—or as innocent as sneaking around a strict professor can be. Professor Harlan was the terror of the lecture hall, all sharp suits, stern glares, and zero tolerance for tardiness. Mid-forties, tall and broad-shouldered with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing blue eyes that could make you squirm just from a glance. Everyone whispered about his iron-fisted grading, but no one knew his secret. Until I caught him.

It was late, past midnight, and I'd come back from a study group to grab my charger from Lisa's side of the suite. Our dorm was one of those co-ed setups with thin walls and shared bathrooms—perfect for accidental eavesdropping, but nothing prepared me for the sight of Professor Harlan slipping through the hall door like a shadow, glancing over his shoulder before vanishing into Lisa's room. Lisa, my busty 20-year-old suitemate, the one with the hourglass figure that turned heads in yoga pants and crop tops, all blonde waves and D-cup cleavage she wasn't shy about showing off. She'd always been flirty, but with a professor? My curiosity ignited like wildfire. Instead of knocking, I waited, then spotted the utility closet in her room—left ajar from maintenance earlier that day. It was a tight squeeze, barely enough space for my petite frame, but the door had a hairline crack straight onto her bed. Perfect view. Stupid risk. But the thrill hit me like a shot of adrenaline, my pussy already tingling with forbidden excitement as I wedged myself in, phone on silent, breath held.

Through the sliver, I watched him. Professor Harlan stood in the dim lamplight, his tailored jacket already shrugged off, revealing a crisp white shirt stretched over powerful arms. Lisa sauntered out from her bathroom in nothing but a skimpy pink babydoll nightie that hugged her massive tits like a second skin, the lace barely containing her stiff nipples. She was all curves—wide hips, thick thighs, and an ass that jiggled with every step. "Professor," she purred, her voice low and teasing, "you made it. I was starting to think you'd chicken out."

He smirked, that authoritative edge softening into something predatory. "Miss me, Lisa? You've been teasing me in class all week with those low-cut tops." His voice was gravelly, commanding, as he closed the distance, towering over her. She bit her lip, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe I wanted extra credit." He chuckled darkly, his large hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him. I could see the bulge in his slacks pressing against her belly. My heart raced—any second, someone could walk in, or Lisa could glance my way. But I couldn't tear myself away. My hand slipped under my shorts, fingers brushing my already damp panties, the risk making my clit throb.