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Extra Credit

By: Morgana_Darkwing



~ Disclaimer: This story is purely fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author retains the copyright to this original work, and it may not be reproduced without the author's permission. Insert various and sundry legal jargon here. Please vote. Thanks! ;) ~

Walking up the stairs to your office, I am stifled by the heat. There are flies buzzing in the stairwell, and I marvel at the idea that university professors are forced to work under these conditions. After all your hard work, this is your reward. Breathing heavily, I finally make my way to the fourth floor. My cheeks are flushed, my body tingling from the long, hot climb. I feel the butterflies in my stomach as I turn the corner, preparing to walk down the hallway and into your office.

The old, musty building is dimly lit, and the doors I walk past on both sides are closed. It's 5:30 on a Friday afternoon, and there is no one else here; you are the only professor who stayed late today, to help me with my dissertation. I walk halfway down the hall, and stop just before reaching your door. It is open, and I want a moment to collect myself before stepping into your sight. 

I round the corner, and you are already looking up expectantly...you must have heard me out in the hall. You smile at me, and clear the paperwork off a chair to offer me a seat, ever the gentleman. I sit, and we begin to talk of trivial things. You tell me about the projects your other classes are doing, we discuss the current events that seem important in the small scope of the college campus...as you speak, I keep up with your conversation, return your witty comments one for another, but I am focused on your smile, and your hands. They are those of a pianist, soft and smooth, large, but graceful. I imagine what those hands could do to me, what they would feel like moving over my soft skin, but I continually tear away my gaze to meet your eyes, hoping that you can't see any evidence of the effect you have on me.

We eventually turn the conversation around to my project, the portrayal of prostitution in modern media. I talk about the subject matter in purely scholastic terms, never quite meeting your gaze because when I do I feel naked, utterly exposed. I cannot control my arousal, I feel so vulnerable near you, and I am always fearful that you can see my feelings, that you know what you do to me, and I don't want things to be awkward between us. Not only because you are my professor, but also because I consider you a friend, a wise and witty confidant, and I always want to impress you.

You make a comment about the nature of sexual tension between men and women, but I am hardly listening. I am busy looking at your chest, wondering what you look like under the olive green tee shirt you are wearing. I note the freckles on your strong arms, a very light brown, which complement your pale Irish complexion, and I wonder where they end, as I follow them up under your sleeves. Suddenly I realize that you have stopped talking, and you are looking at me with a mischievous smile on your face. 

I blush instantly, and look away, feeling once more naked and vulnerable, held in your gaze. I cannot meet your eyes, knowing that you will see too much there, but I feel as if I am revealing just as much by looking away. You move to get up, and I do not raise my eyes to your face, but feel transfixed to my seat, unsure of what to do next. You cross in front of me in the cramped office, no larger than a jail cell, and you close the door softly. My eyes are level with your belt, but I am too shy to lower them a few inches more to confirm my suspicions. You hold out one of those masculine, soft hands to me, and I look up, unsure of what you're asking for. You have the same smile on your face, but now there is a different look in your eyes, one that tells me that the moment I have waited so long for may have finally arrived. 

My head is spinning as I take your hand, my knees weak as I stand, and my thoughts are racing; I cannot believe I am this close to you, I did not realize how tall you were until now, standing inches away from you. I feel overpowered by you, your broad shoulders, your height, your manly scent, like leather and wool, and while my first instinct is to back away, I resist. You move slightly closer to me, and I do back away out of reflex, but after only one step I come up against the wall. You stop, and I finally have the courage to look into your eyes. Your crystal blue eyes which have held me captive on so many occasions. 

You take off your glasses, and it is the first time I have seen you without them. You look younger, but you are just as handsome without them as you were with them on. You toss them carelessly onto the desk with your free hand; the other is still holding mine, still holding me captive in this embrace of energy. We have yet to touch anywhere but with our hands, yet I feel as if I am caught in a swirling vortex of sensations. You put your free hand flat on the wall, and lean in slowly. I feel fire rushing up my spine as you breathe on my neck, blowing softly on my collarbone, not yet wanting to touch me, not wanting to waste this precious moment. 

I can smell your masculinity, and part of me yearns to reach up and grab your hair, push your head in closer, pull your body to me until our hips collide so that I can feel your lust for me, but I am spellbound in this moment, unable to move and barely able to breathe. I close my eyes to cherish this, and senses intensify. I can feel your hand in mine, my back against the wall, your hot breath on my neck, as you turn your face to mine. I keep my eyes closed as your lips brush mine, quickly and gently, and I am amazed at the softness of your mouth. My lips are parted, eyes still closed, waiting for the moment of release when you kiss me, waiting to taste you. You can sense my impatience, but you are not willing to give in to me so quickly. We have all the time in the world, and you are not about to rush this moment.

I feel your hand in my hair, pulling out the tie that binds it, and my long, auburn waves cascade down over my shoulders, down to the middle of my back. You brush it off of my shoulder and neck, and your touch sends shivers down my spine, as we are lost in a brief cloud of warm, feminine aroma from my shampoo. Your fingertips trace the outline of my shoulder and down my arm, and though you are touching me ever so lightly, I feel the electricity between us coursing through my skin. I turn my face just slightly, so that my lips are just under your jaw, and I kiss your skin. 

You inhale sharply, not expecting my sudden move, but you quickly regain control, and move aside the strap of my tank top and bra, to reveal a white shoulder. I feel your five o'clock stubble scratch my skin, as your soft lips press into it, and the contrast is delicious. I lift my hand and place it on the back of your neck, sliding my fingers under your collar, exploring just that little part of you that I never knew I'd get to touch. 

Your lips travel from my shoulder to my neck, up under my ear, as your hand travels simultaneously up my body. I feel your hand cupping my breast, playing with it, exploring its softness and weight. I gasp as you pinch my nipple, your lips still near my ear. Your hand presses into my breast, and I finally give into the urge...I put my hands on your hips, and pull you close to me. As our pelvises meet, I can feel you, bulging against me, and it drives me crazy...I want you then and there, but I know you'll keep making me wait. You bite my neck softly to stifle a moan as I push myself into you, because neither of us knows who might be on the other side of the door. 

Anxiously, I look to the open window – it has a view of a brick wall, no one can see in the small, dimly lit room, but it still feels deliciously risky to be so exposed. You move your mouth from my neck, across my cheek, and our lips meet for the first time. Your kiss is as smooth and luscious as I knew it would be...somehow, before all of this, I knew you would be a master of sensuality. Our mouths slightly open, the tips of our tongues dance around one another, tasting, exploring, as my hands begin fondling your belt buckle.

I undo your belt, and as I unzip your trousers, you slide a hand around to the small of my back, and pull me close. Our kiss becomes deeper as we embrace one another with all of our long-stifled emotion, your hand clutching my hair, mine reaching around to explore the ass that I have seen so many times from afar. Your trousers fall, revealing silken boxers that I think you must have worn knowing that I was coming today. Your skin feels so delicious under them, as I run my hands back and forth...I love the feeling of silk on skin, it's so smooth. 

I run my hands from your buttocks, across your hips and around to the front, and I feel your body stiffen in response...but I'm not going there, not yet. I run my hands up your stomach, and to your chest, and you raise your arms so that I can lift off your shirt. As it falls to the floor, I get a good look at what I've been missing all this time. Though you are not chiseled, your body has a subtle strength which has not eroded with age. I look at you, and I see your eyes, for the first time looking slightly vulnerable, as if asking for my approval. I realize that you must be insecure as well..you are almost twice my age, you must feel that you have to live up to my expectations for the hard, young bodies of the college men – or should I say boys – that I'm used to. I smile softly, and kiss you again, because what you don't know is that while your body is a wonder, it is your mind that I find so fascinating, and that is what makes you so irresistible.

You wrap me in your arms once again, and I feel secure – not as vulnerable now, in your embrace, as I was moments ago, in your eyes. You reach under my shirt, lifting it over my head, to expose my full breasts, nipples straining against my 36DD bra. Your lips trace my collarbone, and you move down to kiss my chest, your hands cupping my breasts. You slip a hand around to unhook my bra, and as it falls to the floor, your tongue traces the pink circle around one of my nipples, while your fingertips play with the other. I am on fire now, and I open my eyes to look down at you as you nibble and suckle. 

I undo your shoulder-length salt and pepper hair, as you did to mine, and it falls around to frame your face. God, I love men with long hair. I bury my hand in your hair, and pull your face into me. You moan softly, and bite my nipple, and I gasp with pleasure. One of your hands slides down between my legs, and up under the skirt I am wearing, and I know that you must be able to feel my heat and wetness already. You stand to kiss me again, and I reach down, taking your shaft in my hands for the first time. I can't grasp all of it, because the boxers are in the way, so I slide them off, to reveal a magnificent erection. 

I wrap one hand around it, and begin to stroke your cock, which is as hard as your lips are soft, as they meet my mouth once more. Your hips begin to move slowly, in opposition to my strokes, until it's as if you're fucking my hand. Our mouths open a little wider, and your tongue begins to explore my mouth. I place one hand on the back of your head, and pull you in close to me. We stand like this for a moment, your hands on my bare breasts, my hand on your cock, stroking, as our tongues play around each other. I can't believe where I am right now, for a moment I wonder if it is a dream, then I decide I don't care, as you slide one hand around to the small of my back and pull me close. 

I take my hand away, and our hips press together; I can feel the tip of your cock on my soft belly, as we embrace once more. I break our passionate kiss, to slide my lips down, over your cheek, to your neck. I linger there for a moment, suckling, nibbling, grasping your ass and pulling your hips into mine. I move down to your chest, giving your nipples the same treatment you gave mine, and occasionally a nip. You gasp when I bite you – not too loudly, we're still not sure if we're alone – and bury your hand in my hair again. I move down, my tongue tracing over your stomach, and you lean back slightly, against your desk, knowing what is next. I kneel down, taking your shaft in my hand, and stroke the backs of your legs with my free hand, as my mouth explores your hips and thighs. 

I know what you are waiting for, but I am in no hurry. The hand on your shaft moves down to cup those two sensitive organs, and I am once again amazed at the softness of your skin. My fingers roll them around inside their sac as my tongue traces the length of your penis. I look up, and see that your head is thrown back, your hands supporting your weight on the desk, and you are lost in the sensations that are coursing through your body. I wrap my hand around your erection, a little tighter this time, and take your balls into my mouth, first one, then the other. 

You moan with pleasure, no longer caring who might hear us, as the wet heat of my mouth engulfs you, while my hand massages your cock; my free hand is still tracing lines up and down your legs, tickling the sensitive spot at the back of your knees. I begin teasing your cock again with my lips and tongue; I take just the tip into my mouth, and taste the salty sweetness of the drop of pearl that has collected at the end. A shudder runs through your body as I take the length of it into my mouth; I wonder if you suspected that I enjoyed deep-throating. 

Had you fantasized about this moment? Did it play through in your mind, as it had in mine? Did your eyes undress me as I sat in your class, patently transfixed on my fantasies? As my tongue swirls around the tip of your penis, and I taste the droplets that are oozing out of the silken slit there, you bury a hand in my hair and make a fist, and the mild pain, mixed with my arousal, makes me moan. The vibrations of my voice make your penis jump in my mouth, and I feel it get even harder. You push on the back of my head, forcing me to take your full length in my mouth once again, as I dig my nails into your ass. I fondle your balls again as your cock stretches my throat, and I can feel myself almost dripping with lust. I need you, and it has to be soon. 

I stand up, and you grab me, pulling me against you roughly for a deep, hungry kiss. We switch places, me leaning up against the desk, as you reach down to dexterously unbutton my denim skirt. As you expose the lacy underwear I never expected you to see, I feel vulnerable once again in the face of your obvious experience. This is what scared me, what kept me from making advances to begin with; I was afraid that I wouldn't live up to your expectations, that I wouldn't be as good as the other women you've had. Those fears melt away as you kneel, peeling away my panties with a slowness that tells me you are savoring this moment. I lift one leg and place my foot on a nearby chair, putting most of my weight on the desk, as you kiss my stomach and the insides of my thighs. 

I feel your soft lips on my skin, as your stubble scratches me, and once again the contrast sends shivers through me. You move your lips closer to where you know I want them to be, and I try to move my hips to guide you, but you evade me still. You nip the insides of my thighs, and I gasp, for a moment too taken aback to move at all. As I am still recovering, I feel your mouth and tongue finally touching the smooth silk of my most vulnerable place. Your tongue spreads my labia to find my sensitive node, and your lips begin to caress and cajole me, sending sparks of white hot fire straight to my core. I feel the tingling and fluttering in my loins that tells me I'm almost there, but not yet, I won't allow myself to...and that's when you plunge three fingers inside of me. 

I come almost instantly, my already-tight opening contracting around your fingers, as your tongue does its work on my hardened clit. I grip the side of the desk and bite my lip as the orgasm washes over me, trying hard not to make any sound other than my ragged breathing. You begin moving your fingers inside of me, bending them in a come-hither motion, and another orgasm crashes into my core. I raise my legs and place my feet on your shoulders; I am now sitting on the desk, trembling, and thanking God yet again for the gift of multiple orgasms which has been given to me. You reach up with your free hand, the one not buried inside of my hot honeypot, and pinch my erect nipples, twisting and turning, looking over my mound, with your smiling, crystal blue eyes, to watch the waves of pleasure engulf me. 

You realize that my clit is becoming too sensitive, and you know what we both want anyway, so with a final flick of your tongue, you stand up. You lean forward to kiss me, and I can taste my ancient musk on your lips, and it makes me want you even more urgently. You take your throbbing member in one hand, and slide it up and down my wet slit, mixing your drops of pearl with my juices. The sensation is almost more than I can stand on my already-sensitive node, and I press toward you, begging you for what I need. You nudge the tip of your penis between my waiting lips, and slide it in, slowly but firmly. 

Once your full length is buried inside me, you pause, and I can tell you're trying hard not to come yet. You break our kiss, sliding your lips over my face and neck, and hugging me close. Slowly, you begin to move ever so slightly, swirling your hardness in small circles inside of me. God, you are so tight, are the first words you have spoken during our encounter, whispered in my ear. I smile with satisfaction, hearing the hoarseness of your voice, knowing that I am making it very difficult for you not to come. Having already come myself, several times, I am more in control of myself now, and don't feel such an urgent need. I enjoy taking charge of our encounter, and I begin flexing my vaginal muscles to milk your already-throbbing phallus. 

You groan in my ear, and your hot breath makes me clamp down even tighter; you can't take any more, and you begin sliding in and out faster and more forcefully. Despite the abundance of lubrication, I am so tight that we can both feel every move, as you slam yourself home again and again. I can feel the tip of your penis against the top wall of my womb, as you grind your hips into mine, and this sensation, of being completely fulfilled, is almost more than I can take. Just as I am about to come, I feel your shoulders tense, and know that you are almost there. I reach up and grab a fistful of your hair, biting your shoulder to keep from crying out as my most intense orgasm yet locks every muscle in my body. You grunt and throw your head back, and as your muscles clench, I can feel the hot streams in my pussy as you come inside of me. Your thrusting becomes less rhythmic, and with each push another spurt of come lands deep inside of me. 

Finally, your breathing, though heavy, returns to normal, and your body relaxes. I stop biting your shoulder as the strength of my orgasm subsides, but I keep one hand in your hair, and you bury your face in my neck; we stay like that for who knows how long, in each other's arms, with you still inside of me. Finally, perhaps realizing that I am not in the most comfortable position, you ease out of me, and a gush of our mixed juices flows out as you recede. We both get dressed, not saying a word, and you wipe the evidence off the desk with a spare napkin. 

Fully dressed, I turn to face you, feeling a little embarrassed; you see the question in my eyes, though, and pull me close once more, reassuring me that our relationship has not changed because of this long-anticipated encounter. I relax, knowing that our mutual respect and affection, not just as teacher and student, but as friends, has not been lost in our transformation into lovers, and I hug you back, and kiss your lips gently. 


Extra Credit



We pull apart, knowing that it is getting dark, and we both have places to be. I pick up my forgotten pages, and joke that we didn't get much work done. You look at me with a wry smile, and as you open the door, you tell me that it never needed any work to begin with...but perhaps I should come back next week, just to be sure.



Extra Credit



"Now the essay needs to be at least five pages long," Prof. Kidd said. "Not four pages and a sentence on the fifth page, I mean five whole pages. Understand?" The classroom filled with disgruntled "yeahs" and "whatevers" and "oh fucks." From my seat, second row from the right second seat from the front, I watched Prof. Kidd glance at his wristwatch then he scribbled something in his notebook before capping his pen and closing the notebook. "Due this Friday. Now get out of here."

Everyone hastily packed up their books and notepads and the main crowd shuffled out, leaving a few of the stragglers hanging back. My friend Amy shouldered the strap of her bag and waited for me by the door.

"Coming, Kas?" she asked.

"I have a conference with Kidd," I told her, tipping my head towards our teacher. "Meet up with you at the dining hall for dinner?"

"Five thirty, be there in the lounge," Amy said.

"Sure, see ya!"

She gave me a two fingered salute and left the room, and I sidled up to my professor.

"C'mon, we'll go talk in my office," he said, stacking up his books. Together, we walked to his office in the English department. There were a few other professors there, finishing up their work, a few of them seeing their teachers about work as well. When we were in his office, he shut the door behind him and went to sit at his desk. I plopped down in the seat next to his, taking out my notebook before putting my bag down. "You're my last thing to do for the day," he said, stretching out his long legs.

"Oh," I said, my cheeks turning a warm red. "I didn't know, we can talk another time if you want."

"Naw, we're both here already, aren't we?" he said. "Besides, I'd really like to talk about your story."

I opened my notebook to a blank page, uncapped my pen, and sat with the tip poised over the empty paper. "Okay, I'm ready."

Prof. Kidd grinned at me. He was a nice guy, one of the younger teachers on staff. A lot of the girls kind of had a crush on him, he was kind of cute; tall with that lean body look, dark brown hair that was longish and kept back in a little ponytail, warm brown eyes, and a perfect smile. I always felt a little shy and nervous when I was in his class or in a one-on-one conference with him. I'll also confess that I did think of him sometimes in a very bad student way. But I probably wasn't the only one.


"Now, with your story," Kidd started, "You have a really good plot going on, with really good characters, but-" There was always a but. "I don't think that this kind of story is suitable for this class."

I blinked. Say what? "What do you mean?"

"Well, the dynamics of the two main characters," Kidd continued. "I mean, look at this guy Jon. Here he is, bolder than life itself, out-going, his personality, if you developed it right, could jump right off the page and smack the reader in the face. And the girl, Lily." He presented me with the print out of my story. It was covered in red pen marks in a series of scribbles, circles, and cross outs. "Lily is obviously a submissive type of girl. I can just see the way that she hesitates before she answers questions anyone asks her. Or how she second guesses every decision she makes. I think that these two characters, if played just right on the page, you could make them a memorable couple."

I was speechless. How was this story not suitable for class? "Okay, I think I can do that," I said, scribbling down his advice and his comments onto my sheet of paper. "But why isn't it suitable?"

"Because it reads more like a piece of erotica."

"Erotica?" The word barely reached a whisper when it was involuntarily pushed out from between my lips.

"It's there, subtle as it is, it's still there," Kidd went on. He flipped through a couple of pages. "Like here." He pointed to particular scene where Jon walked Lily home and I had left it off with them at the door. "And here." He pointed out another scene and another and another, until I realized that if the story was read a certain way, could be seen as a piece of erotica.

"Oh," I said.

"Now," Kidd said, leaning back in his chair, ankle crossed at knee. "There's a big market out there for these kinds of stories, you just have to put in the right kind of stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" I asked nervously.

"Well, for one thing you need more passion in your story, more desire," Kidd said. "More of the physical attraction, and of course the sex."

"Sex?" I squeaked. Was this getting a bit awkward?

"Of courses," Kidd said. "I'm sure a girl like yourself has had sex already." My cheeks went up in flames. "You need that in here, but not that cheesy shit. I know you, I know how you write, and I know that you can write something very compelling, something powerful enough to draw your reader in and trap them into your story till the very end."

"I can? But I've only had sex once and it was really bad and-" I nearly choked on my tongue when I realized what popped out. Talk about Freudian slip! "Um ... I didn't mean to-um-to say that, Prof. Kidd."

"Only once?" Kidd asked.

I could only nod.

He leaned in closer and my face heated up even more.  "Well, sex is supposed to be good thing," Kidd said. "Sex is supposed to be about pleasure for both parties." The way his eyes looked at me, I felt my skin tingle with pleasure and a warm ache filled the place between my thighs. He reached out and to my surprise, shock, and pleasure, Kidd cupped my cheek. His hand was warm and his skin was callused. I sat still as his hand slid farther back, his fingers sinking into my hair. My eyes slid shut on their own accord and a soft moan slipped from my lips. "When a man and a woman have sex it should be about equal giving and receiving by both of them." I gave a small nod. "But in the case of your characters, Kas, I think that it shouldn't be gentle." His hand in my hair fisted and he jerked it hard. Too startled to make a sound, I toppled off my chair, falling to my knees. My notebook fell with a thunk and my pen rolled under my chair. I looked up at Kidd, my eyes hazy with pleasure and pain. "In the case of your characters, Kas, I think one party has to be in charge, don't you think?" When I didn't give a verbal answer, Kidd gave my head a little shake.

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

He smiled down at me, the light in his eyes both kind and hard all at the same time. With his other hand, Kidd undid the front of his jeans and fished out his cock from his boxers.

"Come here," he said.

I came to him, eagerly, on my knees with his hand still tangled in my hair. He was average size, seven long and six around, and I took him in my mouth and sucked hungrily. I felt Kidd's eyes on my as my mouth bobbed up and down on his cock. I used my tongue, fluttering it against the tip, over the slit in the head, then on the underside. Kidd gave a deep moan in the back of his throat and he began to control the movements of my head, forcing my up and down. At first I fought a little, but after a few slaps to the face, I gave myself up to him, relinquishing control. My professor fucked my mouth with slow precision, pulling my head back till the tip was just in my mouth, then pushing me down till the head of his cock bumped the back of my throat.

"Good girl," I heard him murmur. After a few more strokes, he pulled my head back and I looked up him through glassy eyes. "What else do you think your characters should do? Remember, you have to keep to their personalities."

I licked my lips. "Well ... Jon, he-he should tell Lily to take off her clothes," I said. "Because Lily's shy about her body."

"Then do it," Kidd said. He released my hair. I blinked at him. "Stand up and take your clothes off, Kas."

"Yes, sir." I got to my feet, swaying on my legs, and I pulled off my shirt, stepped out of my sandals, then undid my jeans and pulled them down. I draped my clothes over my chair and was left in my black bra and my pink pirate panties.

"All of it," Kidd ordered.

My cheeks flared and I unhooked my bra then pulled down my underwear. Now completely naked, I stood in front of my professor. I started to raise my arms to cover my breasts when Kidd surged to his feet and slapped my arms down.

"You don't move until I tell you to," he said.

"Yes, sir." I watched him clear off his desk and I wondered what he was going to do.

"Bend over the desk," Kidd ordered. "Hands flat on the surface, legs spread shoulder-width apart."

I obeyed him without question and my skin tingled. My heart was thudding almost painfully in my chest and I could hear my blood rushing in my ears. I wasn't even sure how I got into this but I wasn't sure how I was going to get out of this and I wasn't sure that I wanted to get out of this. I heard the rustle of clothing and I soon felt Kidd's warm hands smooth over my thighs.

"What else would your characters do?" he asked from behind me. "What would Jon do to Lily with her in this position?"

"He'd touch her until she begged for him to have sex with her," I answered, breathless.

"Would 'sex' be the word she'd use?"

"No, sir."

"What word would Lily use?"

"Fuck," I whispered.

"Then use that word, Kas."

"Yes, sir."

I felt one of his hands slide between my thighs and whimpered as his fingers dragged over my already soaking pussy. Two of his fingers slid into me, sinking in slowly. A small shuddering moan escaped my lips and I had to bite my lip to keep from shouting out loud when he began to finger fuck me. He twisted his fingers in me, pushing them as deep as he could. He curled them so he could touch the walls of my pussy and all the while his other hand reached under me and he played with my breasts, his fingers pulling and tweaking my nipples, forcing my back to arch in both pleasure and pain.

When Kidd added a third long finger in my pussy, my knees nearly buckled as I was stretched and forced to accommodate the new digit. My lips were parted as I sucked in air and I gave a small strangled cry when he twisted his fingers almost cruelly in me.


"Oh God," I moaned, my forehead lowering to the table top. He twisted his fingers more inside of me, wriggling them around. I could feel the juice just oozing from my pussy, hearing the wet sounds as Kidd fingered me roughly. "Please ... please," I begged.

"Please what?"

"Please ... please fuck me," I whispered hoarsely, not believing what I was asking my professor to do.

"Why?" he asked almost coolly.

"Because I need it, sir," I moaned, squirming my hips back against his hand. "I need your ... I need your cock in me." There, I said it. I looked over my shoulder at him. "Please, sir."

"Look forward," he ordered. I obeyed him, resting my forehead on the table. Slowly, Kidd removed his fingers from my pussy and wiped my juiced down over my spine. I held my breath and nearly melted when I felt the head of his cock push against my pussy. I ached to take a step back and take him all in but I managed to hold my ground.

Slowly, inch by inch, Kidd pushed his cock in me. My eyes closed as I felt him go deeper, all my attentions focused on that place between my thighs. I could feel him hit the hilt, he stayed there for a moment, still, before beginning to thrust. He didn't start off slow, he went straight to hard, his hips smacking into mine. His hands went to my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulled my body back against him. I could feel my whole body shaking with each thrust I absorbed, my breasts swaying and shivering.

Kidd shifted his hips and his cock slid along a new angle in me and I could feel myself body seem to grow, my skin suddenly too tight for the fullness of my body. Kidd fucked me harder, hard enough that I knew I might bruise in the morning, but I didn't care. I just wanted and wanted, needed and needed. My nails dug into the wood of the desk and just as I was going to cum, Kidd pulled out. His hand tangled in my hair and he wrenched me to the floor and onto my knees, presenting his pussy juice-slick cock to me. I opened my mouth and he shoved himself into my throat. I gagged and he pulled out just enough for me to cough a bit and gulp some hair before he fucked my throat, hard and fast with long strokes that allowed me short quick breaths.

"That's it," he murmured. I whimpered around his cock, my lips tight around his shaft. I could feel the difference in the stiffness of his cock and his strokes, the pumping of his hips, and with a final thrust, Kidd came, shooting his load right down my throat. I swallowed the best I could but a pearly dribble escaped the corner of my mouth. With a sigh, Kidd pulled his slowly deflating cock from my mouth.

I looked up at him, my eyes glassy, my head fuzzy, my lips swollen, and my pussy sore and aching for an orgasm.

"Do you understand why I don't think your story is appropriate for class?" he asked with a smile on his face.

Licking my lips, I nodded my head.

"Good," he said. "Now, how about we have another conference tomorrow, say, over dinner?"



Extra Credit



"Jon, can you please join us here?" I looked up at the professor standing in the front of class. On any other day it would be impossible for me to take my eyes off of him but today was different. He had just handed us our tests back; mine with a big F on the top of it.

"Sorry, professor," I mumbled. He turned and finished up the equation on the board. Professor Bucklord was my favorite professor for more than one reason. Bucklord was 5'11" with a dark tan. His dark hair was cut short and his blue-green eyes kept the attention of most of his students. He almost always wore tight polo shirts that showed off his large biceps and spectacular pectorals. He was not only the boss of the classroom, but also the leading male in most of my fantasies.

An elbow nudged my side. "Good going dumbass," Aaron said from beside me. Aaron was another one of my favorite fantasy characters. He was about 5'10" and probably around 160lbs. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and an almost continual scraggly beard. Sitting in the lecture hall, Aaron had more than once "accidentally" placed his hand on top of mine when it was resting on the arm of the chair. I realized that while I had been daydreaming about him we had maintained eye contact. Blushing, I looked back towards the front of the classroom.

Another 40 minutes of torture and class finally ended. I threw my notebook into my bag and was getting to my feet when Bucklord's voice rang out. "Jon, stay after, please." Of course I had mixed feelings. I would get to be alone with the hottest professor on campus but it was not for any good reason. I waited around until the hall had emptied before walking up to where Bucklord was waiting.

"I suppose you know why I asked you to stay," Bucklord said, crossing his arms. His biceps strained against the thin fabric of his shirt. I just wanted to rip his clothes off!

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I'm real sorry for not paying attention during class and getting such a bad grade on the test." I hung my head and bit my lip.

"I'm afraid there isn't much that you can do now about your grade, Jon. You're almost sure to fail." Bucklord then did something odd, he reached out and tilted my head up so that I was looking directly into his gorgeous blue-green eyes. "Are you willing to do what it takes to pass my class, Jon?"

Our faces were so close that I was finding it hard to breathe, let alone speak so I merely nodded. Bucklord smiled. "Good. Meet me here tonight, around 7 and I'll give you an extra credit assignment." With that, Bucklord picked up his briefcase and walked out.

I meandered down to the cafeteria to have lunch with Aaron and some other friends, the entire time pondering what Bucklord had in mind. I could only hope that he wanted some sort of sexual favor from me. I smiled at the idea.

"What are you grinning about?" Aaron asked. I jumped. I had forgotten that I was sitting in the library with my best friend. I laughed.

"Nothing; nothing at all," I said.

"Sure...," Aaron said, giving me a suspicious look. "We still on for tonight?"

Crap! I had forgotten that it was Thursday! Aaron and I always went down to the bar on Thursdays to meet up with some buddies. "I can't," I said. His smile fell off his face. "I have to help Professor Bucklord with something so that I don't fail his class."

Aaron laughed. "Ok, that's actually a good excuse. Classes come first. But, hey, I got to get going. See ya later." He stood up, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. I got a glimpse of his amazing 6-pack before his shirt fell back over his stomach. He walked out, leaving me with a partial hard-on. Does he know how he affects me? Doubtful.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 



A few hours later I was sitting in the lecture hall, waiting for Professor Bucklord to arrive. I allowed my mind to wander, considering what my reaction would be if he came in and tried to get me to have sex with him. A smile crept across my face as I imagined him walking in and kneeling right next to me, his muscles stretching against his shirt; his hand would rest on my knee and slowly inch up towards my crotch...

"Good to see you, Jon." I snapped back to reality to see Bucklord standing in the doorway. He had a small smirk on his face. He wore a tee-shirt and a pair of gym shorts which left very little to the imagination. A definite outline revealed where his cock was. I began to get aroused. 

"Uh, yeah hi...," I said, my eyes never leaving his crotch.

"Yeah, Jon...? I'm up here." Embarrassed I looked up, meeting his eyes. He was smiling at me...what did it mean!? It felt like something snapped inside of me. Bucklord had asked me here, after hours, and had shown up in skimpy clothing. He obviously wanted something from me; something that most male professors don't yearn for from their male students. So I stood up. My cock strained against my jeans as I walked over to him, placed my hands on his waist and tilted my head up. His warm mouth met mine, his arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me toward him. 

Not wasting any time, I hooked my fingers into his shorts and pushed them down. He released his hold on me long enough to tear his shirt off. My clothes melted off my body and we grabbed for each other again. I didn't have to look down to know that he had a nice, thick cock; it was trapped in-between us, along with mine. My hands explored his muscular back, moving down to his perfect ass. His hands were exploring my body as well. 

I had a fairly well-maintained body; nothing as amazing as Bucklord's but it served its purpose. I felt one of Bucklord's fingers slide in my crack, gently kneading at my pucker. A moan escaped my throat as his finger entered me. My back arched and Bucklord's mouth found my left nipple. 

"Yes!" I screamed. "Take me, Bucklord!" With that, Bucklord pushed me to my knees. In front of me was that which I had always dreamed of. Reveling in the moment, I slowly took Bucklord's cock in my mouth. I was able to take him almost all the way to the base. Hair tickle my nose as I choked on him. I pulled back and licked up the shaft of his cock. His moans from above me told me I was doing a great job. I looked up, over his flat stomach and his amazing chest to his face. His eyes were closed as he began to fuck my face. I opened my throat as best I could and let him pump in and out of my hot mouth. 

"Oh yeah, Jon! You're a great cock sucker. Take my cock, take it." He pumped a few more times before yelling out. "I'm cumming!" I clamped my mouth down around his cock. The first spurt of his cum hit the back of my throat. I swallowed time and time again as Bucklord emptied his juice into my mouth. As soon as he finished he pulled me to the floor and took my cock in his mouth. I moaned as his tongue began to flick around my cock. 

"I want to fuck you." I looked down at Bucklord. He stopped sucking me to look up at me, smile and nod. He then squatted over my cock and slowly lowered his ass until the head of my cock touched his hole. Gritting his teeth he lowered a little bit more and I was forced into his tight ass. 

"Oh shit!" I yelled. I pushed all the way in, enjoying the hot feeling of my professor's ass. I reached up and began to massage his chest. I loved his chest! Gasping, Bucklord began to really ride my cock. 

And that's when Aaron walked in.



Extra Credit



Jenny opened Mr. Ward's office door quietly, shutting it behind her and holding her books to her chest. She thought she'd been silent, and so she jumped when his high-backed leather chair swung around. 

"Ah, Jennifer. Sit down." He spoke quietly, but with such authority that she felt like she'd just been yelled at. He was annoyed with her. She timidly crossed the room to the chair, smoothed her skirt behind her and sat down.

"Do you know why I called you here?" His brows lowered on his chiseled face, he looked down his hawk-like nose at her, and she shivered.

"Mr. Ward," she started, "I'm sorry about my homework. I promise I'll try harder, I just had my eighteenth birthday party this last weekend and -" A decisive gesture of his hand cut her off.

"Not good enough, Jennifer." He stood and walked around to sit down on the edge of his large oak desk and look down at her, crossing his arms. "That promise is one you made me last quarter, and the quarter before. Against my better judgment I gave you a C instead of the D you so richly deserved. Your test scores show that you know the material inside and out. Why can't you just do the homework?" She opened her mouth to answer, but he leaned forward and placed his fingers over her mouth. "That was a rhetorical question. The real question for myself is, what do I do with you?" He pulled back his hand and stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "The only option I see is to give you an F."

Jenny blinked back tears, but one escaped as she slid to her knees at his feet. She sniffled and grabbed the fabric of his slacks. "Oh no, Mr. Ward, you can't do that? I can't graduate if I don't pass this class!"

He grasped her wrists and removed her hands from his pant legs. "I'm sorry, but you should have thought of that earlier."

Tears streamed down her cheek as she lifted her face up to him. "But isn't there something I can do? My parents will take away my car, and they won't let me go to a party ever again! I'll do anything, Mr. Ward, anything you want, if you'll just let me pass this class!"

He stopped still, slowly turning her wrists so that her palms turned up, and slid his hands down to rub circles in her palms lightly with his thumbs. His eyes bored into hers as he repeated her words. "Anything I want?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Ward, anything." She nodded enthusiastically, eyes brightening.

"What about this?" His right hand sought out a nipple, fingers pulled softly on the nub which instantly hardened under his touch.

She fell back, hands behind her to brace herself. "No! They'll kill me if they find out!"

He chuckled. "And how will they find out? Are you going to tell them? I certainly won't. This is just between you and me." She continued shaking her head in disbelief, and he stopped smiling. "Very well, I suppose I'll just have to inform them that-"

"No!" She grabbed his hand and put it to her breast while grimacing slightly, "I'll do it, just please don't fail me? Please?" Her lower lip quivered as he stroked the underside of her pert, rounded breast.

"Well, if you do everything right, not only will you pass my class, but you'll get an A as well." He watched as hopeful amazement washed over her youthful visage. "That is, only if you do a very good job and take the punishment" - she trembled at the word - "for your laziness like the good little girl you should have been all year long."

"I promise." She shuddered, considering the alternative, and shivered with excitement at the unknown.

"We'll see, shan't we?" He sat down on the chair, and patted his lap. "Come here, child, let's get this over with. Bend over my lap."

She stifled a sob and laid herself face down on his lap. He lifted her skirt and folded it back neatly at her waist. Wolfishly he licked his teeth at the revelation of her pale pink panties. Smartly he slapped her left asscheek as he reached under her with his left hand and pinched her nipple tightly. "Ow! Oh, that hurts! I'm sorry! I'll be good, I promise!" Tears plopped onto the smooth floor.

"You're right. You'll be good from now on, I'm going-" Smack! "To make." Smack! "Absolutely." Slap! "Sure." Slap! Smack! "Of that!" Slaps rained hard on her bum as she wiggled her hips back and forth in useless attempts at evading the painful actions.  

He softened the blows, tapping her bum just hard enough to heat it fresh with each strike. He focused his attention on her nipples, alternating pinches and pulls at the dangling small hard cones in syncopation. "Oh!" She stopped crying. "Oh!" she mewed softly in wonder. "Oh, oh, oh!" 

"Not just yet, child." He lifted her off his lap and stood her before him, lifting her skirt all the way to her waist. He grabbed the top of her knickers and yanked them down, then turned her around to better examine her bum. The pink handprints on her asscheeks brought another grin to his lips as he unzipped and opened his slacks, reaching inside. He stroked his cock and pinched her tortured globes.

His long finger reached between her thighs, feeling the soft fur of her pussy lips which were dripping with moisture. He let his cock snap back against his belly and used both hands to spread her thighs wide, then stuck his thumb inside her and reached a forefinger out to nudge her hard little clit. Her cunt was tight, and she grunted as he pushed his thumb in deeper, but soon began moaning and the double stimulation only escalated a feeling of ecstasy she'd not experienced before.

Having ensured that she was prepared, he grasped a hip and guided her down to meet the tip of his cock. The hard end of his club rested at her gate, he grabbed her tits and held her in place as she began struggling. In an instant, he had pulled her down and pushed his way into her, slamming his hard cock in to widen her tight hole. She screamed, and began weeping anew. "It's too big! It's tearing me!" 

He stopped, and tugged at her nipples, squeezing gently, wrapping an arm around her to lean back against his chest and scissor her clit between two slick fingers, while her sobs lessened slightly. He stroked her nipples and clit persistently, softly, until her pussy started swallowing at his cock and she started rocking her ass into his crotch. He pumped once gently, then more surely at a leisurely pace, kissing her neck as her moans followed closer and closer together, soon slamming her down on him as she orgasmed tight spasms and her cries echoed off the ceiling.

A few more sliding motions up and down, and he spurted, gobs of slippery stickiness sliding down around his cock from her cervix. He grunted in satisfaction, she slumped back against him in total exhaustion. 

Gently he stroked her long blonde hair. "Such a good, good girl." She smiled, and felt his prick slowly soften inside her, felt the fluids leak from her poor abused cunny.

After dressing, she picked up her books and turned to leave. He cleared his throat, and she faced him once more. "Jennifer, don't forget to come in for makeup work this time again tomorrow." She nodded solemnly, but her lips curved upward as she closed the door behind her.



Extra Credit



I am grading papers when I look up to see Jasmine standing at the doorway of the classroom. I don't know how long she had been standing there, but it is pretty obvious she wants to see me. I wave her in and she smiles as she nods, walking toward my desk.

"Mr. Thomas?" she says meekly.

"What can I help you with Jasmine?"

"Well, it's about my report," she says even more shyly. "I worked real hard on it and I was not expecting the grade I got."

I look her over and smile. Here is a very bright and beautiful woman of twenty-four standing in front on me and at the moment all I can think about is having my cock in her. Pulling my head out of the gutter I say, "I was surprised with the paper myself, but you left out several, very important details of some of your points."

"I tried really hard to relay that Mr. Thomas," she pleads.

I know she tried hard and I feel bad for having to cut her grade shorter than any of her other works, but I just couldn't play favorites. "This was different than your other papers and I could see you tried something a little different and harder. I graded you accordingly so that you could learn from it and improve yourself."

"Is there something I can do to make up for it Mr. Thomas?" she asks politely.

"I don't have anything for extra credit this late in the semester," I reply.

"Are you sure?" she asks pulling at the hem of her shirt.

I swallow hard. Is this woman toying with me?

"Unless you have some idea then we can work something out," I say testing the waters.

Jasmine smiles and pulls off her shirt, tossing it to the ground. She stands there with just her skirt and blue laced bra on. "What do you think Mr. Thomas?" she asks. "Will you take fucking my ass as extra credit?"

Once again I swallow hard. I can feel my cock harden and push against my pants. "Yes, I think we can do that," I say.

Forgive me, I am weak I know, but when you have a twenty-four year old standing half naked in front of you, taking off her clothes, you don't hesitate.

"Good," she says unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor at her feet. "Are you ready for me Mr. Thomas?"

She walks around my desk and pushes me back in my chair before turning around and bending over the desk. I get up instantly and pull off her skirt then I run my tongue in small circles around her lower back before moving down her ass. I plant gentle kisses along her skin before running tongue along the fabric of her matching blue panties.

Jasmine moans quietly as my tongue traces its way along the crack of her firm ass. I take her panties and begin pulling them off, sliding them down her long, sexy legs. Then I lower my head and kiss the top of her ass crack. She lets out a soft moan as I drag my tongue down her ass crack and then back up.

Jasmine moves up onto the desk further onto her hands and knees. Then she lets her legs slide out, still bent at the knees, until she is practically doing the splits right there on my desk. It just makes her ass look even more irresistible. I run my tongue down her ass crack and onto her tight little hole.

"Mr. Thomas—" she starts to say, but is cut off when my tongue slips into her asshole. "Oh my god," she moans instead.

I tease her a little, by licking around her tight little hole, driving her crazy.

"Don't tease me," she says.

I do as corrected and I thrust my tongue as far into her asshole as I can.

"That feels so good," she groans.

When her ass is nice and wet, I push my face into her, forcing my tongue even deeper inside her. I start sliding my tongue in and out until she is nice and loosened up. Then I pull away and stick my finger into her hole.

I slide my finger in slowly, watching as her tight ass swallows up my finger and grips it tightly in place. I can tell she wants more, as her ass is clenching and unclenching around my finger.

"How does it feel?" I ask.

"So fucking good Mr. Thomas. Give me more!"

"How about another finger?" I ask smiling to myself.

"Oh god yes!" she cries.

I push in another finger and start thrusting back and forth. Jasmine buries her face into her arms as I continue to finger fuck her asshole. I lower my face and start to lick around my fingers as they penetrate her depths.

"Put your cock in me now!" she cries. "I want to feel it!"

Now I am beginning to wonder if this is just for extra credit or does she just want a cock in her ass as well.

I gently slide my fingers out of her ass and pull down my pants and underwear. My cock is already as hard as it can be. I spit into my hand and rub my cock with saliva, then spit onto her already glistening asshole. My fingers go back to work, rubbing my saliva into her tight hole.

I pull her ass apart further than it is already being stretched and begin to slide my slippery cock up and down her ass crack before coming to a stop at her tight little hole. She holds her breath as I begin to push. Her ass is tight and doesn't give much, but I manage to squeeze my cockhead in with a slurping pop.

She groans as her tight hole clamps down around my cock. I stop and let her get used to the feeling. After a while she begins to relax a little more and I begin to move my hips around. I then push forward a little more. I keep her cheeks spread and I stare at my cock, half buried in her ass as she starts to play with her pussy.

"Keep going," she urges. "I want to feel all of your fucking cock inside me."

I reach around and grab the front of her thighs, pulling her back a little. She moaned louder as her ass slides down my cock. After a few more minutes I am completely buried in her tight ass. The feeling is amazing and I start grinding my hips into her ass. My balls are pressed firmly against her pussy lips and I can feel the vibrations from her playing with her clit.

"Mmm, I feel so full," she says. "I just love it."

As I withdraw I can feel her ass grabbing at my cock, trying to hold me in place. I pull back almost all the way out then push my way back up Jasmine's asshole, this time a little faster.

"Oh my fucking god," she whimpers as I bottom out again. She is squeezing her as tightly around my cock and I am having a hard time even moving it. "Faster," she pleads.

I start fucking her a little faster, trying to control myself. Jasmine begins pushing her hips back at me and I stop. She increases her pace, thrusting her firm ass backward. She drops her head into her arms once again and screams as she is taken by an anal induced climax. I can feel her ass clenching and unclenching around my cock as she tries to milk it with her asshole. The feeling is incredible.

"Come on Mr. Thomas, fuck me!" she cries.

I grab her hips and thrust forward, feeding my cock to her hungry ass. She groans loudly as I pull out again then thrust back even harder. I pound her tight hole, driving my hips down into the desk and stop just before my cock explodes in her.

She turns and looks at me with a look of near sadness. "Do you want to try a different position?"

I nod and pull my cock free from her slippery asshole. She smiles and rolls over onto her back and pulls her legs up to her head. Before me sits her cleanly shaved pussy and I wonder if I would ever get the chance to try it.

Pulling her legs up to her head, her hips raise up off the desk. I move forward and slip my cock into her waiting asshole. This position is even better. I stare down at my cock moving in and out of her body, then up to her face. Her eyes are closed in pleasure and a soft moan resonates from her lips. I know I am not going to last much longer.

"Jasmine," I say. "I'm going to cum soon."

She looks up at me and says, "Will you fill my ass up with your hot cum?"

I nod and keep fucking her. I start going faster and faster as I feel the cum rising inside of me. With a groan, my cock spasms and unloads a massive torrent of hot cum deep inside Jasmine's well fucked asshole.

"Ohhh," she squeals. "That feels good."

I keep my cock firmly embedded in her ass for a few moments before I pull out. As my cock slips from her ass, it is followed by a trickle of my cum. I collapse back into my chair.

Without a word, Jasmine slips her panties back on. "Thanks Mr. Thomas, she says kissing me on the cheek. "That was amazing. Do I get that extra credit?"

I smile and say, "You sure do and then some."

"I guess I will have to do some more extra credit work from now on," she says snatching up her skirt.

I stare at her ass as she gets dressed. There is a small wet spot forming in her panties and I know it is from my cum dripping out of her freshly fucked asshole.

When she is dressed she heads for the door and before walking out she turns and smiles at me. Maybe I would get to try out the smooth pussy of hers after all.



Extra Credit



Pork dumplings are Elizabeth's favorite food. Dr. Charles Waxman, her Algebra professor, knows this because Lizzy brought a warm dish of potstickers from Hunan Palace to class on Thursday. 

"They're my favorite," she whispered to the Russian exchange student in the adjacent row.

Dr. Waxman lectured for an hour and a half and turned toward the class to watch her sneak morsel after morsel between her young and pouty mouth. He pretended not to see, ignoring the memorandum sent to all faculty members, instructing that eating and drinking be prohibited from lecture halls and computer labs.

"Finally," Dr. Waxman announced to conclude his lecture on quadratic equations, "for those of you who wish to attend the release dinner and reception for Dr. Brownmiller's documentary on Chaos Theory, please see me after class."

Students slapped computers shut, tore paper, and zipped their bags in a flurry.

"Extra credit will be awarded for attendance."

A line began to form in front of Dr. Waxman's desk, and despite her next class, Elizabeth waited for ten minutes to sign up and ask how many points will be given for attending.

"A full letter grade."

"Really? For one event?"

"For attending the complete viewing during dinner and a two page essay on what you learned," he explained, "no coming late or leaving early, and I will be checking."

Elizabeth nodded and ran across the lawn to her next class. She stopped only momentarily to pop three breathmints and re-apply her lipstick.

Elizabeth wore a black kimono dress she bought at Saks Fifth Avenue when her roommate, Kristen, insisted they shop early this year for swimsuits. Lizzy tried on only one halter maillot that gave her a bad case of muffin top before settling for a new sarong and a trip to the dress department. Kristen said that it was too short to wear to a formal event, but everything else was too low cut.

Dr. Waxman arrived late with his wife in tow. They sat themselves quietly next to Elizabeth as Dr. Brownmiller introduced her film and thanked her production staff. A buffet of Indian cuisine was available, but barely touched by the majority of staff members. Elizabeth excused herself as the film began, and Dr. Waxman quickly followed. He found her standing next to a serving dish of fresh chipati.

"And where do you think you're sneaking off to?" Dr. Waxman interrogated Elizabeth with a melting tone of warning. "I'm just kidding. What are they serving?"

"Indian. I don't really like it, but I figured that I might stay awake longer if I eat something."

Dr. Waxman laughed and leaned in with a low voice.

"I agree. The only reason the department makes such a big deal about his movies is because Brownmiller's brother is on the board of trustees."

"Is that true?" Elizabeth smiled.

"Yes," he continued, "plus we have to use the funding to make sure they don't reduce our budget next year."

"Dr. Waxman—," Lizzy was interrupted with a shush from a near-by table. "I didn't know you were such a gossip," she whispered.

"Call me Charles," he said, and walked back his seat.

The film was two and a half hours long. As credits rolled, a number of attendees were seen stretching and yawning. Several had excused themselves to smoke or "stretch their legs." Elizabeth closed her notepad and slipped it back into her bag.

"Let's go get some coffee, Charlotte." Dr. Waxman got up but stopped mid-stride.

"I'm just going home, Chuck. I'm tired, and the baby probably needs to be put to bed."

"Let Clarice do it."

His wife shook her head and kissed him on the cheek. Someone turned on the overhead lighting and Dr. Brownmiller thanked the guests for coming. Everyone was invited to enjoy coffee and dessert or purchase signed copies of the DVD, complete with commentary, in the lobby.

"Fuck that," Dr. Waxman muttered softly with a grin.

"I know, right?" Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. "I hope you know that I only came for the grade. I don't have the least bit of interest in chaos mathematics. My major is Anthropology."

"I know, you said that on the first day of class." Dr. Waxman stuck his hand in his pockets. "Want any dessert?"

A selection of miniature cheesecakes and warm cookies were offered on the refreshments table.

"These are so fucking adorable, I can't stand it." Elizabeth sucked a lump of cream cheese from her index finger.

"They only serve the little ones because they think guests will consume more conservatively if the hors d'oeuvres are small."

"No way. I just want more. I've only had like three, and they are so small," Lizzy explained.

"Do you smoke?" Dr. Waxman asked.

"No, my mom keeps trying to quit, so..." Lizzy shrugged.

"No, I mean, like—"

"Oh." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and set down her coffee.

"Yes."

"Come back to my office," he said, walking towards the elevator.

Elizabeth rested on the sofa while Dr. Waxman rolled a ball of sticky, purple Kush into the bowl of his box pipe. He took the first hit, and lit the pipe when Lizzy leaned into take hers.

"Wow," she coughed, "that's really good."

Charles laughed, allowing a plume of smoke to exit between his lips between each stifled chortle.

"You never struck me as that kind of girl," he replied.

"What do you mean?" Lizzy turned and made an injured face.

"No, I mean, you don't look like the stoner girls in the back of the class. Not that anything is wrong with those girls. Those girls were my friends when I was your age. Not that I'm that much older than you, you know."

Charles paused and lit another bowl for Lizzy.

"I'm saying that you look so put together. You do your homework. You wear lipstick to class."

"A little goes a long way," Lizzy replied.

"I'm sorry, Lizzy, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Its fine, Dr. Waxman, you're right. I don't normally do this kind of thing. I came here for extra credit, but I'm not above it. I'll get high in your office. After all, it will probably legal soon anyways."

"Please, just call me Charles. Dr. Waxman is my father and Professor Waxman is the head of the English department."

"Are you related?" Lizzy wondered.

"Elizabeth, Professor Waxman is black."

Lizzy cracked up laughing and doubled over the arm of the sofa.

"I'm so sorry," she pleaded, "I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay," he comforted her shaking and convulsing body. Lizzy wheezed and spoke in broken apologies as she supported herself against a support cushion.

"I'm sorry," she sighed and wiped tears from beneath her eyelashes.

Lizzy stood up and pushed away the pipe as Charles offered another hit.

"Shotgun."

"What?"

"Do it, give me a shotgun."

Charles pulled the pipe to his mouth and sucked back a long hit. He approached her, holding the smoke just long enough to suspend judgment, and grasped the back of her neck as he blew hot smoke between the contact of their lips that threatened a kiss, wanted to become a kiss, and did transform into an impassioned and supple, French kiss.

Elizabeth exhaled smoke and stared at her professor directly in such a way that her face became almost unfamiliar. Many years ago, he read an article in Psychology Today that described the personas that we wear to live our lives in a functionally detached society. On Tuesday and Thursday, he was an associate professor of mathematics at Central Connecticut State University. On Wednesday nights, he was Chucky at Lou Kravinsky's poker parties. On Saturday and Sunday, he was Chuck, or Charles if he made Charlotte angry. Now, he was Daddy. Dr. Waxman took off his glasses.

"What was that?" He tested the sound barrier for reality.

Lizzy approached him again and tried to reach for his belt.

"I can't do this," his conscience intervened. "I'm married, and we just had a baby. This is my fault, but I need to ask you to leave."

"Dr. Waxman, I'm twenty-three years old, and my underwear are incredibly small. I know what I'm doing, and no one has to know. You want this. Hit me again."

Dr. Waxman did not correct her about his name as he lit the bowl for a final hit. He inhaled as much as he could and desperately grasped onto her mouth for air. Elizabeth's hands yanked and pulled on Dr. Waxman's belt and fly in as he stumbled to press her bottom against his desk. Her ass pushed over a cup of pens on to his day calendar and a series of staplers, tape dispensers, and business cards were forced onto the floor in a panic.

Lizzy's dress was already hiked up to her waist and one red pump lingered on her right foot, separated from its companion, left tipped under the sofa. Lizzy pulled the sash and opened her wrap dress to reveal her young, but large breasts. As Dr. Waxman pulled off his blue dress shirt, Lizzy snatched his tie and fixed it around her neck, letting the silk drape down her neck and chest, stopping just at her belly button.

Charles froze and stepped back from his desk. Lizzy followed, sinking onto the floor and perching in front of his pelvis. Elizabeth yanked down Dr. Waxman's boxer briefs and slid the end of his erect member into her mouth. Charles stepped back in hesitation, but Lizzy followed, steadying herself against his thighs as her fingers ran down his back, his buttocks, and down his hamstrings and calves. The mathematical symbol for an imaginary number was tattooed above the crest of his pelvic bone. Lizzy stifled through several gags before Dr. Waxman bent over to grab her pony tail. Lizzy moved in a rhythm guided by Charles' grip for several minutes before quickly standing up, fumbling to push down her tangled panties. Dr. Waxman held her hips against his own as Elizabeth slid back to rest her naked torso on his desk. 

"Wait, get my purse." Lizzy pointed towards the sofa. Charles stepped away and picked up her opened clutch.

"I know there is one in there. Next to the iPhone."

Dr. Waxman pulled a purple, blueberry flavored and scented condom from the same pouch that contained Elizabeth's lipstick and parking pass.

Elizabeth sat up and ripped the condom out of its wrapper. Using spit to lubricate the latex, Lizzy slid down the synthetic covering as Dr. Waxman held his erection against her exposed labia. Charles held her upright by the small of her back as he moved his pelvis against her clitoris. Elizabeth's breathing became shallow as she looked up into Dr. Waxman's gaze.

"Let's do this." Elizabeth pushed her ass forward and wrapped her legs around Charles' back. Her tender sheath was soft and warm. Dr. Waxman thrusted himself against Lizzy in a rhythmless frenzy, stopping only to catch his breath or hoist her legs against his arms. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and began grinding her body against his own.

"Wait," he paused. Her steady and calculated movements calmed his own and bred a new confidence in his posture and attitude. For too long, Charles thought, he had been having sex on a Queen sized bed.

"Lay back."

Lizzy did as she was told and gracefully lowered herself back onto the desk. Dr. Waxman slid his hands up and down her arms before pinning his palms against the dewy white skin under her wrists.

"There's a stack of sticky notes digging into my back," she protested.

"Good." Charles grinned and forced his weight on to her body.

Her ass dangled precariously over the edge of his desk and she struggled to balance her calves against the ridge of his biceps. A loud clapping noise reverberated through the walls and off the ceiling as his muscular thighs pounded against her bottom. Lizzy tightened her back and stomach as her pleasure heightened, and Charles moved a hand over her mouth to stifle a series of moans and grunts that escaped her lips.

Elizabeth turned to her left to find the picture frame containing the sweet, smiling face of Charlotte Waxman pressed against her cheek. Earlier that year, Kristen had divulged that her ultimate fantasy was to be someone's "mid-life crisis." That is to say, Kristen dreamed of becoming one sordid mistake, the folly of aging masculinity, the other woman, a comfort in the face of broken dreams, regret—any port in the storm as death sailed in to the bay. Lizzy told Kristen that she was gross and they both laughed, but in this moment, Charlotte Waxman was at home with Dr. Waxman's crying baby boy and Elizabeth Hiller was in his office, digging her nails into his arm, grinding her eager body against his, and shaking as coitus erupted from her stomach, down her thighs, and exited through her spine.

Charles finished soon after, collapsing next to her on a stack of ungraded papers. For several moments, she did not look at him, but stared blankly into the assortment of family photos that decorated his computer monitor and book shelf. As they got up to dress, Lizzy stopped and pulled a red Sharpie marker from the carpet. Elizabeth wrote her name across the glass of Charlotte's picture frame and paired it with her phone number.

Dr. Waxman continued to see Elizabeth in class, but refrained from using her number. He kept it locked up under a false bottom in his filing cabinet, along with a bottle of Maker's Mark and his pipe. He never received her extra credit essay, but found that her final exam grade was so high that she earned an A- without the assistance of a bonus. 



Extra Credit



I thought I'd try something completely different this time and I really hope you like it!  A few people suggested I add ambient noises to go with my more creative audios, so I went all out.  It's a little more theatrical than what you're used to with me, but if you stick with it I promise you won't be disappointed!

Anyway, do enjoy!  And please, keep listening, commenting and voting. And more importantly, send me your feedback! Especially if you have suggestions. I'll be waiting!

And remember -
YourCockIsMine

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Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (17 min/mp3)

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Extra Credit



All characters are age 18 or above.



"You know Stacy, you'd better buckle down and start studying or else Ms. Zander is going to fail you."

Stacy Grayson, however, paid her well-intentioned friend, Zoe, no mind. "Relax, I've got this under control. I know exactly what to do to get a passing grade in her class."

"If it's not studying, then what?" Zoe replied.

"Easy," said Stacy. "A few weeks ago, I snuck into her classroom during lunch to see if I could find the answer sheet to an upcoming test. I couldn't find it, but on her computer, I found a ton of pictures. Pictures of naked women! Ms. Zander is a total lesbo!"

"I don't like where this is going..." Zoe said waringly.

"I've noticed her out of the corner of my eye staring at me when she thinks I'm not looking," Stacy continued. "I'm gonna head to her room after school today and seduce her, and then blackmail her into passing me."

"I regret asking," Zoe replied. "Just leave me out of this."

Unbeknownst to the teens, Ms. Felicia Zander was right around the corner and had heard every word of their conversation.

"Oh, Miss Grayson, if only you knew what you were in for..." Ms. Zander purred under her breath.

=====================================

After school had ended for the day, Stacy steeled her nerves and knocked on the door to Ms. Zander's room. Let's blackmail this lesbo bitch, she thought.

"Oh, hello Stacy," Ms. Zander said upon opening the door, trying her best to sound surprised. "What brings you here?"

"I came to talk about my grades," Stacy replied, entering the room.

"Yes, your grades. You'd better buckle down and start studying, Miss Grayson, because the current outlook is not good," Ms. Zander said, leaning back against her desk. "Do you need tutoring?"

"No, but I do need...you," Stacy said seductively.

Ms. Zander was already getting excited at what was about to transpire, but played dumb. "What do you need me for, Miss Grayson?"

"I've been noticing the way you look at me sometimes in class, and, well, I feel the same way too," Stacy replied, playing with her platinum blond hair. This will surely get this lesbo all randy, she thought.

Moving to lock the door, Ms. Zander straightened her skirt. "And what did you have in mind?"

"Well, how about we start with this," Stacy said seductively, pulling her shirt off to reveal her breasts.

Shit! She's not even wearing a bra! Ms. Zander thought as she eased back to her desk. I can't take it anymore!

"Very impressive, Miss Grayson," Ms. Zander replied. "But I think you'll find I'm a little different from your average lesbian."

The puzzled look on Stacy's face was quickly replaced with fear as Ms. Zander pulled down her skirt to reveal a rock-hard, thick cock, larger than any of the boys Stacy had been with.

"I-I think I had better go," Stacy said shakingly, quickly turning around and heading for the door.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Where do you think you're going?" Ms. Zander purred, grabbing the fleeing Stacy by the waist, the teacher's thick, hard cock rubbing up against Stacy's lower back. "You've done this much, and you're not going to take responsibility? Your teacher's got a huge, throbbing erection, and you're going to run away? I suppose I have to teach you a lesson now."

"M-Ms. Zander..." Stacy sputtered, her mind screaming at her to break free but her body disagreeing, her panties becoming flushed at the sensation of a hot, hard girlcock rubbing against her lower back.

"Stacy, Stacy, Stacy," Ms. Zander cooed, her hands moving up her student's curvaceous body before finally resting on Stacy's sizeable, round breasts. "You teenagers have a lot to learn about the real world. When you get your teacher all hot and bothered, you don't just run away from her. You have to take responsibility and...service her."

Stacy couldn't stop a moan from escaping from her lips as Ms. Zander played with her tits, the teacher's cock leaving a slimy streak of precum as it rubbed up and down her lower back.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Ms. Zander asked as one hand moved down Stacy's stomach and into her pants, her cock oozing more precum as her fingers made contact with sticky wetness. "Getting turned on by your teacher's hot dick touching your back?" Ms, Zander asked as she pulled her hand out of Stacy's pants, putting her wet fingers under her mouth. "My, what a slut you are, Miss Grayson!" Pausing for a second to taste Stacy's juices, Ms. Zander moaned. "Mmm, and such tasty juices!"

"P-please, let me go," Stacy weakly protested, her legs trembling. "I-I won't tell anyone, I p-promise."

"No, Miss Grayson," Ms. Zander said, turning Stacy around while still maintaining her iron grip on the teenager. "You need to be taught a lesson. A hot teenage girl like yourself just can't go around, arousing her teachers, making their cocks hard, and not do anything about it! You have to take responsibility!"

"O-okay..." Stacy murmured, refusing to admit to herself how turned on she was at that moment. None of the boys she had been with had been as forceful and controlling as Ms. Zander, and it had made Stacy's panties soaking wet. Following Ms. Zander's downward gaze, Stacy got a good up-close look at her teacher's penis. It was at least a couple inches bigger than any boy she had been with, an estimated 8-9 inches, maybe even a little more. Stacy knew that as long as Ms. Zander's cock was in her memory, she could never call anything else a fat cock again. And those balls! Completely hairless, Ms. Zander's balls were proportionally large to go with her big cock. Was Ms. Zander even a missus? She had the voice of a woman, and nice big tits, and all the other womanly features, but an unquestionably manly, huge dick.

Maybe it's not weird for me to be so turned on if she's really a guy. I mean, I'm certainly no lesbo, Stacy thought.

"Well? I'm waiting..." Ms. Zander said impatiently.

Putting those thoughts to the side, Stacy slowly got on her knees, Ms. Zander's cock mere inches away from her face. Stacy could see the veins bulging and a drop of precum at the head. Stacy's mind flashed back to when Ms. Zander was rubbing her cock against the small of her back, and the sensation her warm, slick precum had left.

"It's not going to suck itself," Ms. Zander said, loud and impatient. Her cock throbbed angrily in front of Stacy, begging for release.

Stacy placed her mouth over the tip of Ms. Zander's cock and one hand on the shaft, massaging her teacher's dick as she slowly began to take it into her mouth. Stacy had sucked cocks before, but none as long or thick as Ms. Zander's. Surprisingly, Ms. Zander's penis tasted pretty good to Stacy, almost a womanly, dignified taste. As Stacy moved a hand to cradle Ms. Zander's balls, the tips of her middle and ring fingers rested in something hot and wet. A pussy! Stacy looked up at Ms. Zander, a look of confusion on her face, Ms. Zander's cock still in her mouth.

"Would you mind servicing my pussy too?" Ms. Zander simply asked.

Stacy couldn't believe it! Her teacher had all the girl parts, AND a cock! What did this make her? A guy? A girl? BOTH???

"Oh, for fuck's sake, stop stalling and suck my cock already!" Ms. Zander shouted.

Snapping out of her train of thought, Stacy continued the blowjob she had already started, working more of Ms. Zander's hot dick into her mouth, working two fingers into her teacher's pussy at the same time, juices flowing out and down Stacy's hand.

"Mmmh, you do have some experience, Miss Grayson," Ms. Zander moaned appreciatively, precum flowing out of her cock liberally, Stacy gulping it down as quickly as it could come out.

Stacy gradually took more and more of Ms. Zander's cock into her mouth until her lips met Ms. Zander's crotch. Stacy's eyes went wide at this realization. She had never been able to take more than 5 inches of cock in her mouth at one time before, and Ms. Zander's penis was at least 3 inches longer than that! Stacy's drenched panties told the story: no guy's penis had ever turned her on as much as that of Ms. Zander.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Ms. Zander moaned, her cock firmly entrenched in her student's mouth. "Keep sucking it...don't forget about my pussy!"

Stacy continued sucking Ms. Zander's cock, deepthroating the massive prick like a professional, while deftly sliding three fingers in and out of her teacher's pussy, eliciting deep, womanly moans from Ms. Zander.

"Look at you, sluttily sucking your teacher's huge cock while fingering her pussy," Ms. Zander said lustfully. "God, this is so fucking hot."

Stacy moaned appreciatively and continued sucking Ms. Zander's cock, her tongue wrapping around the thick, hot shaft. SHe could feel her teacher approaching orgasm, the older woman's pussy beginning to tighten around Stacy's invading fingers, the shaft beginning to swell up.

"Fuck yeah, here it comes..." Ms. Zander moaned, placing her hands on Stacy's head.

"Mmph!!!" Stacy sputtered into Ms. Zander's cock, mere milliseconds before Ms. Zander slammed her whole cock into Stacy's mouth and throat, holding the teenager's head firmly to her body.

"CUMMING!!!" Ms. Zander yelled as cum surged through her thick cock before erupting into poor Stacy's throat, almost choking the blonde.

SHE'S CUMMING DOWN MY THROAT!!! Stacy screamed in her mind as she too came, moaning hard into Ms. Zander's erupting cock, her pussy juices soaking through her panties, through her jeans, dripping onto the floor. Stacy's mind went blank as Ms. Zander fucked her cumload directly into Stacy's throat.

"Oh yeah," Ms. Zander sighed as her orgasm withered away, her cock finishing its torrent of hot spunk. "I needed that."

Ms, Zander extracted her cock from Stacy's mouth as the student sat on the floor in shock, her pants totally soaking wet from the intense orgasm she had just experienced.

"All right, Miss Grayson-"

"Stacy," Stacy interrupted, breaking from her trance.

"...Stacy. I think you've learned your lesson," Ms. Zander said, helping the teenager to her feet.

"I-I promise I won't tell anyone about...you." Stacy said, still dazed from the events that had just transpired.

"I know you won't, even if your original intention was to blackmail me," Ms. Zander replied.

Stacy stiffened upon hearing those words. "Y-you knew?!?" she asked in disbelief.

"I overheard you and your friend talking," Ms. Zander replied matter-of-factly, tucking her now soft cock back into her skirt. "You were going to seduce me and blackmail me into giving you a good grade."

"I-I can still blackmail you!" Stacy stammered. "When the principal catches wind of your little secret, and the fact that you forced a student to suck it off, you'll be fired for sure!"

Grinning, Ms. Zander took a seat. "Okay then, hotshot, tell the principal what happened here. 'Principal, principal! My female teacher has a penis and a vagina! I sucked her off and when she came I came everywhere! Fire her at once!' Nobody will believe you, Stacy. But, I don't think you would tell anyone anyway."

"W-why do you say that?" Stacy asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

"You want more," Ms. Zander said, her eyes narrowing. "You want more of my fat cock."

"Th-that's not true!" Stacy said, tears forming in her eyes as she lied to the teacher she had just finished sucking off. "Y-you're nothing but...but...a FREAK!"

"What did you call me?" Ms. Zander said, swiftly getting up from her chair, a full-on hateboner tenting her skirt.

"N-nothing," Stacy said, backing away, her panties flooding once more as she beheld her teacher tear off her skirt to reveal her thick girlcock, throbbing with lust.

Stacy backed into a desk, falling down on top of it. Ms. zander grabbed Stacy's legs and spread them wide, revealing her soaking-wet crotch.

"What's this? You call me a freak, yet you're sopping wet!" Ms. Zander cruelly teased.

Unzipping Stacy's pants, Ms. Zander muscled them off to reveal a soaking wet pair of lace panties. Tearing them off of Stacy's body, Ms. Zander gazed longingly at her teenage student's dripping wet pussy.

"N-no! Don't stick it in!" Stacy cried out, but to no avail. Ms. Zander was already lining her cock head up with Stacy's fat pussy lips.

"Your mouth says no, but your cunt says yes!" Ms. Zander declared, ramming her huge cock into Stacy's pussy, causing the teenager to briefly scream before Ms. Zander's hand cut her off.

"Now, now," Ms. Zander said as she hilted in Stacy's tight depths. "You wouldn't want anybody to come running and discover you getting fucked by a freak like me," Ms. Zander spat.

Stacy was awash with pleasure as Ms. Zander's huge cock penetrated her to depths she had never even known existed.

"You teenagers are all alike," Ms. Zander said lustfully. "No respect for authority. I'm going to teach you a good, hard lesson."

With that, Ms. Zander began thrusting. It wasn't long before Stacy began cumming, and cumming hard. Each thrust by Ms. Zander's monster cock brought a new wave of intense pleasure to Stacy's pussy, the rolling orgasms electrifying her entire body.

"Ohhh, fuck, your pussy's so tight," Ms. Zander groaned, slamming her fat cock in and out of her student's tight, dripping cunt.

"Mmph!!! MMMPPHHH!!!" Stacy screamed into Ms. Zander's hand as she continued cumming, her teacher's girlcock relentlessly pounding away at her cervix.

"Fuck, every time you-ooohhhh-cum, you tighten up," Ms. Zander moaned. "I'm gonna cum soon!"

"Mmmpphhh?" Stacy yelped, her eyes growing wide at the prospect of Ms. Zander cumming inside her. She had almost choked on that huge load her teacher had shot down her throat; how could she handle that same hot load inside her pussy?!?

"Fuck, here it comes! CUMMING!!!" Ms. Zander yelled, hilting her fat cock into Stacy's pussy as cum surged up her cock once more, exploding out of the tip directly into Stacy's womb. Shot after shot of hot cum pounded Stacy's womb, each fresh spurt causing her to cum hard. Stacy had never felt it when a cock came inside of her, and this new experience was mind-blowing, causing the teenager's eyes to roll back as she succumbed to pleasure, losing track of when one orgasm rolled into the next. After what felt like several minutes, Ms. Zander was done, and pulled her now-deflating cock out of Stacy's well-used pussy, cum swirling together with pussy juices, oozing out of Stacy and onto the desk.

"So much cum..." Stacy whispered, in shock at what had just happened to her pussy.

"That's why you don't mess with freaks," Ms. Zander said, marveling her handiwork. "Now, about that grade..."

=====================================

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but how did it go?" Zoe asked Stacy the next day between classes.

"Oh, uhh, I, uhh, chickened out. Blackmail's not really my thing, you know?" Stacy replied.

"So, study sesh with me tonight?" Zoe asked. "You've got to pass her class."

"No thanks," Stacy replied. "I have some...one-on-one tutoring with her arranged."