I'd like to talk to you about something that's been bothering me. Specifically, your breasts, and how much of them I see.
Now I have nothing against your breasts. I'm sure they're both lovely and functional. What I would prefer, however, is that they no longer be pushed in my face. Also, a top that properly covered them? That would be a good idea. If you're a bit short this month, I'll be happy to kick in to some sort of 'Buy A Top That Conceals The Twins' fund.
A few other things. You're a good student. I enjoy teaching you. But I am not going to meet you for a drink to discuss the course material. Instead, I have office hours. In a well-lit room. Without wine.
Also, the hugs? They can stop. Believe it or not, not every male academic speeding towards middle age wants to hump his students. I think of 19-year-old girls the way I think of Ferraris. They're nice to look at, and I can understand why someone might want one, but I'm not in the market myself. I'm happily married, and enjoy my comparatively uneventful life. A life which has no room for you or your pair in it. Also, when we run into each other at the supermarket, and you hug me for a little too long, the Mrs. gets a little cross. And fair enough. So, maybe less of that. In fact, how about none of that? Would that work for you?
So study, read, ask questions, and cover those things up. Nothing against you, but my life would be happier were there less of your cleavage in it. I am under no delusions that this is about my rugged good looks. I suspect that flashing the pair at a prof or two in the past has worked out well. But not with me. In fact, if you looked closely at the handbook for the course, you'd see that your grades are based on exams that are graded by others.
Now I have nothing against your breasts. I'm sure they're both lovely and functional. What I would prefer, however, is that they no longer be pushed in my face. Also, a top that properly covered them? That would be a good idea. If you're a bit short this month, I'll be happy to kick in to some sort of 'Buy A Top That Conceals The Twins' fund.A few other things. You're a good student. I enjoy teaching you. But I am not going to meet you for a drink to discuss the course material. Instead, I have office hours. In a well-lit room. Without wine.
Also, the hugs? They can stop. Believe it or not, not every male academic speeding towards middle age wants to hump his students. I think of 19-year-old girls the way I think of Ferraris. They're nice to look at, and I can understand why someone might want one, but I'm not in the market myself. I'm happily married, and enjoy my comparatively uneventful life. A life which has no room for you or your pair in it. Also, when we run into each other at the supermarket, and you hug me for a little too long, the Mrs. gets a little cross. And fair enough. So, maybe less of that. In fact, how about none of that? Would that work for you?
So study, read, ask questions, and cover those things up. Nothing against you, but my life would be happier were there less of your cleavage in it. I am under no delusions that this is about my rugged good looks. I suspect that flashing the pair at a prof or two in the past has worked out well. But not with me. In fact, if you looked closely at the handbook for the course, you'd see that your grades are based on exams that are graded by others.
So no matter how spectacular a rack you may have, there's nothing I could do even if I wanted to. Your breasts are being used in vain. Sorry.
