Mr. Ryles
I’ve always been interested in men who were older than me. From the age I began considering sex, I had been lusting after men in their twenties and thirties. So, naturally, when I met my college professor Mr. Ryles, I could barely contain myself. Being a fairly shy girl, I spent most of class keeping myself from staring, mortified that he would notice. He was in his late twenties, 6’2″, he had shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes that electrified every part of me through his gaze. I wanted him desperately, but I was sure it would never happen. Why would he notice me, a plain brunette with C-cups who’s still a virgin, over the slutty blonde double D’s that seemed to flood the school? I had a nice body, I thought, but nothing to …