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Office Hours

By: janevalenz



"Hi Professor Hall, mind if I come in for a minute?"

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?"

I can't believe that I'm rehearsing such a simple salutation. If this was some ordinary beer-swilling male college student, this would be a hell of a lot easier. Then again, the only reason I'm doing this is to just prove to myself once and for all that men really are the same no matter how old they are, that I was deluding myself into thinking that this professor with his fresh PhD in English Literature was any different from the horny bastards who'd paw at me at parties.

Never mind that I'm staking my own dignity, and perhaps even my own grade in the class on this. At worst, I would have a B+ in the class in Renaissance Literature. At best, an A-. I'm a decent enough student to do most of the reading and put in a couple of cents during class discussion, but I'm no fucking apple polisher. Then again, I'm certainly not the type of girl who exchanges sex for better grades. If that were the case, it would take more of a drastic jump, like a failing grade to an A for it to be worth it. Not some paltry half-grade difference.

No, this challenge was entirely personal, almost selfless. The only problem is that if everything went down the way I planned it, I could risk David losing his job. It was strange that I always thought of him in terms of his first name, perhaps because he was so much closer to me in age than my other instructors. As much as I wanted to do this, I didn't want to get him hurt in the process.

This is my quandary.

I turn around in the hallway to watch him exit from his 9:00 a.m. class to walk to his office for his office hours. As usual, he's carrying a stack of papers and books. Sometimes I wonder if he ever bothered considering getting a briefcase for everything. I've only glanced at the inside of his office in passing, but for a new professor, it's a nice enough office, not like the large static rooms filled with cubicles for the TAs. The ceiling is surprisingly high in such an old building. The wall behind him has shelves filled with books. Perhaps he just grabs what he needs at the last second, maybe without even thinking. Then again, knowing his meticulous nature, this probably wasn't the case. The wall of books behind him seems to loom so tall, overwhelming him and his desk and the pathetically cute, but somewhat dated iMac the school has equipped him with.

I notice that he has dropped a piece of paper and hastily walk down the hall to pick it up before the passing period stampede can trample it to shreds. It strikes me as odd that a specialist in 16th century English Literature would have a 17th Century poem such as "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell. Oddly enough, despite the flagrant display of chauvinism in it, the poem is one of my favorites. I definitely agree with the carpe diem philosophy. Humans don't have a particularly long lifespan, so we should enjoy ourselves while we still can. Then again, this poem is just a rather obvious ploy at getting beneath a lady's skirts. And yet again, if someone had written this poem for me, it would have worked, mostly because no one has ever or would ever write poetry for me.

"Excuse me, Professor Hall? You dropped this." I wave the paper at him in time for the door to nearly slam in my face.

He stops the door with his foot and kicks it back open, setting down a stack of books to prop it. "Thanks Jane."

"Marvell, huh? Sort of odd that you'd choose him for a lesson in Shakespeare."

David smiles and looks up at me as he finishes adjusting the stack of books. "That's right, but I wanted to give my class a taste of what direction literature would take after the Shakespearean sonnet."

"That sounds cool." I hate the Shakespeare class I'm in now since I thought that the old professor was so stodgy and set in his ways that a new idea would give him a coronary. "I wish I was in your Shakespeare class too."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'd get to take that class, then come to your office hours to hang out with you and then go to your Renaissance Literature class."

"That would be at least six hours we'd be spending together." David chuckles as I think about the myriad things I would do with him in six hours. "Are you sure you wouldn't get sick of my company? Or that we'd run out of things to say to each other?"

I step into his office, slightly nudging the books so that a couple of them fell. "I'm sure some other students would drop by and interrupt with more legitimate questions on assignments and such. Then I'd be forced to leave and come back later."

"You wouldn't believe this but—" He pauses when I look up after bending down to my knees to readjust the books, stretching my shirt a bit lower to reveal my collarbone. "Students don't really come to see me during office hours. I sometimes worry that I made my courses too easy for them."

"Well, do their grades reflect on this theory? Are all of your students getting As this semester?" I stand up and walk to the chair in front of his desk, a surprisingly comfortable leather chair despite being patched multiple times with duct tape. After a flashing fantasy of me sitting in that chair my legs spread over his shoulders as he grasped my hips and licked me with fervor, I ponder over his next to last statement, thinking about how lonely he must get if nobody visits him. I even recall how happy he seemed when he just saw me in the doorframe.

"No, not exactly." He looks away for a moment and clears his throat. "Then again, grades are a confidential matter that I can't discuss openly with a student."

I move forward in my chair. Something in the way he said the word "confidential" with the subtle bite of the "k" sound gliding into the soft "f" and flourishing off into whisper sound of "sh" turned me on even more. "Well, I could go over there and close the door so we can discuss the matter in confidence. Or at least I could ask you how I'm doing in your class. I mean, that is the point of office hours, right?"

"Yes." He stands up, gesturing with his hands and nearly knocking over his mug full of pens. I couldn't help but wonder if he had the slightest idea of the dreadful delights I wanted to visit upon him. "Closing the door won't be necessary. It gets stuffy in here."

"So, your window doesn't open? That's a shame since you get such a nice view of the quad from this side of the building." I crane my neck, turning to see some people playing Frisbee outside.

"It opens, but it does a weird thing to the pressure of the room, even if it isn't windy outside. My papers would blow around."

I look back at his desk, covered in folders and stacks of papers and imagine the poor guy chasing papers around the room, frantically trying to put everything back in their place. Then again, if there was any symbolism in my presence in his office, it would be like an open window, mussing him up a little since he was so put-together all the time with his tightly buttoned-up shirts and neatly-pressed pants. I notice that his desk is one of those rather tall wooden numbers with a panel in the front. I imagine hiding beneath the desk, surprising David with a lunchtime blowjob. I recall from prior experience with one particularly jaded lover that I could deliver an effective blowjob—to the point where the guy couldn't remember his own name for a good five minutes or so. Granted, it wouldn't be romantic, being cramped in that wooden box, knees cold against the hard tile floor, but blowjobs aren't exactly known for being particularly romantic in the first place. I wonder what his cock would look like, pulled out from the confines of his black slacks through the fly. Would it be long, perhaps a little narrow as it tapered to the head? Or, would it be shorter, but thick enough to strain my jaw as I blew him or stretch me out while fucking?

"So, did you have a question?" I look back up at him after staring at the bottom of his desk for so long.

"Uh, yes. I wanted to check up on how I'm doing in your class, along with a question I had on this paper assignment." Good, this would buy me time to plot things out a bit more. I hadn't expected to get into his office this early. I wanted to start things off slow, with questions via email followed by a scheduled meeting outside of office hours. Then again, as they say, the best laid plans...

"Well, you certainly have nothing to worry about. Your attendance has been nearly perfect. You participate when you are here, and you've never turned in an assignment late..."

I glance back at the desk. It looks like a solid piece of furniture. Perhaps it could take the weight of two human bodies. Mussing him up would be more effective if I just shoved all those papers off of his desk, lay on top of it and let him fuck me there. Either that, or I could grasp at things in the heat of the moment while he bent me over the desk. That would be interesting considering how high the desk was. I would have to be wearing high heels or stand on my toes or something. Or maybe I could lie back on the desk with my legs up on his shoulders as he fucked me. Either way, he'd still be almost fully clothed, with his tie undone, a few buttons undone on his shirt and his fly open or pants partially down exposing his ass. Maybe I'd spank him once or twice as he fucked me. That way he'd sweat through that carefully-constructed shell of his and be unable to hide it later. This would only work if my pants were off or if I was wearing a skirt. Damn. No skirt, no high heels. If anything is going to happen at all today, it's going to be awkward and cumbersome.

"So, what was your question about the paper?" Shit. I haven't even started writing it yet, or even thinking about a topic, definitely no shape to be in as far as asking relevant, intelligent questions are concerned.

"I haven't really started it yet, but I think I have a topic idea." I begin glancing around the room as if it would help me find a topic. "The representation of sex acts in Spenser's Faerie Queene."

"Interesting." His usually down-turned lips curve slightly upward as he stands up again. "So, what was your question?"

"Do you think that this is an ... appropriate topic for a paper?" I lick my lips during the pause before "appropriate."

He laughs as he walks behind my chair. "I'd hardly think that you would be so prim as to be squeamish about discussing sexuality in a paper."

My heart starts to race as I feel sweat beading between my breasts. Had my somewhat unsavory reputation followed me into the ivory tower after all? All else fails, feign innocence. "Why would you say that?"

I nearly jump out of my chair as he leans forward close enough to brush his arm against mine to pick up a book which had mysteriously made its way next to me. Even though I'm wearing a long-sleeved shirt, I feel exposed enough to hear the whisper of his wool blazer against the goosebumps of my arm. "You're not that squeamish in class discussion."

It was funny that I completely forgot about that. Perhaps my subconscious desire truly did spill over into my academic pursuits. Then again, from what I recalled, David usually turned his lecture in that direction before turning us loose in discussion.

"Then again," he rises enough to look me in the eye from a distance of a mere couple of inches, "Not that many people really participate in discussion. I'm not sure if I'm making them uncomfortable or just boring them." 

I can smell some sort of cologne on him, not expensive, but not heavy to the point of stinging the eyes. It is more of a warm, earthy smell, almost like suede with a few fresh notes like citrus and something a bit spicy like cloves. I felt completely enveloped by it as I breathe harder. "I-I'd hardly say that you're boring them. I mean to say, you don't bore me at least."

"Thank you for that." He withdraws from this unnervingly comfortable proximity. "Did you have any other questions?"

"No." I hear myself say as I stand up and slowly step backward to the curiously closed door. Funny, but I don't recall even hearing the door close, just the rattling of my foot nervously tapping against the chair leg. "Thank you."

As soon as I get around the corner of the hallway, I lean back and close my eyes. I can't help but hear the voice of one of my previous lovers in my head, whispering "You're in over your head, little girl." I wonder, is David playing into my hands, or am I playing into his?

Office Hours



The day was over; I was tired. Classes had gone well, although there were one or two students who simply didn't seem to grasp that college is another way to spell work. One of my more difficult students, Laura Buisson, the daughter of a trustee, was especially obstreperous. Her attitude of entitlement and assumption of authority—all unearned—grated on me. Her midterm performance was undistinguished at its best. On her present course she was bound to fail. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, the door to office left slightly ajar.

I must've drifted off for a moment. I was awakened by the clunk of a foot on my desk. Sitting up and opening my eyes, it was Laura, in all her arrogance, slouched in a chair, one leg up my desk. "Yes, Laura," I asked. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

"My grades," she responded churlishly. As it there could be any way for her to respond. 

"You're giving me bad grades," she said, throwing her midterm up to my desk.

"I see." I was angry. She had that special talent of instantly making me see red. Her behavior only compounded it. "I'll be happy to talk to you about your grades, but first, sit up, take your foot off my desk, and start acting like an adult. Please pick up your test and hand it to me in a slightly less-arrogant manner."

Sitting up, she glowered at me as she picked up her exam.

I looked the exam; it was her very best work, a 68, a D+. Good lord.

Going over the answers I explained to Laura why she had only earned a 68. She was unimpressed. 

"You need to treat me better. You don't like me because my mother's a trustee. You need to fix this or I'll talk to her" she stated.

I was doing my best not to slap her silly. "I don't respond well to demands or threats, Laura. Your performance is substandard, your attitude poor, and your manners atrocious. Maybe, if you took classes seriously, your scores would be better and you might even learn something."

She bolted upright, leaned across my desk, and tried to slap me. I blocked it. I was furious. She tried again, this time I caught her wrist. "You arrogant, presumptuous, little bitch! Who do you think you are?" I pushed her away, and walked around my desk. Laura closed the door.

"You're going to get it know," she sneered. "First, I'm going to kick your skinny, old ass, and then I'm going to have you fired."

She stood, arms akimbo, glaring at me, her face seething with hatred and anger. Laura wore low-slung, skin-tight, black pleather pants that only just made it to her hips. Her red bikini showed above what passed for a waistband. On top she wore a leopard patterned bustier. "Was she a student or a prostitute in training," I wondered.

"Missy, you'd best eat some crow right now, or you're going to be in for it," I warned her.

"The only eating around here is going to be you eating my pussy after I kick your ass."

"Have it your way," I said. I kicked of my sandals and removed my blouse. Sliding out my skirt, I placed everything on my chair. After adjusting my lavender bra and panties I walked forward.

Laura kicked off her shoes and lunged at me, arms outstretched. Her inexperience and arrogance would be her downfall, but not before I put her in her place.

Grabbing her wrists, I drove my right knee into her stomach, drawing an "oof" from her surprised face. I followed it up with another knee, leaving her doubled over, with knees bent. Holding onto Laura's left wrist, I walked around and twisted it behind her back in an arm lock. Cocking my arm, and gave her barely pleather-clad ass a smack that echoed. This was far too easy and too much fun. Laura was proving to be a superb tension release.

Wrapping my right arm around her neck while still driving her left arms upward, I whispered in Laura's ear, "Are you surprised? I'm only just starting. When I finish with you, you're going to beg me for mercy. If I like you, I'm going to make you my girl. But not before I have some fun." I released Laura, shoving her away from me. "Come on, show me what you've got, missy!" I demanded.

Much more cautious she approached me slowly. Maybe she wasn't nearly as dull as I'd thought. We came together in a bearhug. Her arms were strong, but she was inexperienced. That only catfighting Laura had done was with some sorority girls, and she'd probably cowed them pretty easily. My own experience went back to junior high, but more on that much, much later.

Squeezing, I felt the heat rising from her bustier, mixing with her perfume. The feel of it against my breasts and belly wasn't half bad. The brush of Laura's outer pleather skin against my satin panties tingled. As if by agreement, we released one another. We were both breathing hard. Laura was perspiring rather freely; she unbuttoned and slid out of pants. She did the same with her bustier and stood before me in a red thong, breasts free. The must've been B cups, maybe 34s or 36s.

We circled. I feinted with a left-handed slap that caused Laura to duck to her left. Driving in, I wrapped my arms around Laura's head and threw her to the ground. I grabbed her blonde hair and wrapped my legs around her middle. "Time for a scissor," I thought. Laura cried out in anguish as my legs tightened. Beating and slapping my thighs, she cried out "Let me go, let me go!"

"Not yet," I said as menacingly as I could. "There's so much more I want to do, so much more you need to learn, Laura." As much as this spoiled, arrogant child of privilege angered me, there was something about her I liked--besides beating her ass into the ground.

I gave her middle a couple of good hard squeezes, making her cry out again. Laura was weeping. Nobody had ever treated like this. "It's about time somebody did," I thought.

Releasing my hold I finished her off. Standing above Laura, my feet firmly planted beside her breasts, I lowered myself to her face. "Is this what you thought you'd be doing to me, Laura? Life doesn't always work out the way we want it to, does it dear?" Underneath the bluster and bravado was an annoyingly over-confident young woman. Beautful, attired slatternly, and in need of a lesson. "In loco parentis," I suppose.

Laura had given up completely. Putting my warm, moistening cunt on her face sent a charge up my spine. I ground my lavender-clad, clean-shaven pussy against Laura's face. I pulled the material to the side. "Lick me," I commanded. She obeyed without any fuss. Laura went to work on me. Whatever her shortcomings as a student, and they were legion, Laura knew how to pleasure a woman. Her tongue was warm, wet, and gentle on my clit. I changed position, putting my ass against her face, and ground away.

I next planted the full weight and spread of my ass on her face. Laura struggeled, and I remitted, but only enough to let her catch her breath before smothering her again. I shifted my position just enough to let her breath and continue servicing me.

Laura's lips and tongue were magic. I massaged my breasts as I writhed on Laura's face. Leaning forward I pulled Laura's red thong between the cleft of her pussy lips. Her pubis was clean, save for a landing strip of closely-trimmed hair. I started massaging her a bit, but only a bit.

I dismounted and walked toward my desk. I cold feel her eyes following me.

Sitting in a chair, I ordered Laura to "Come here and worship my cunt." Coming to me meekly, she buried her face between my legs. I moved her hands to my breasts. Exposing my orbs, I had her play with my nipples. I was ready to burst. Leaning forward I grabbed Laura's thing and pulled up as far and as hard as I could as I exploded, my cum drenching her face. Cocking my left leg, I placed it against Laura's chest and pushed her away.

"Don't forget I'm the professor, and you're the student. Next week, same time, and don't forget your books. You're going to learn. Now get dressed and get out."

"Laura," I whispered. "Yes, ma'am?," she responded. "Your grade still stands, but I have hope for you."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, professor" she replied as she left my office.



Office Hours



The knock on Professor Dana Miles' door came just a few minutes after noon, about an hour into her daily three hour block spent in the confines of her room. Professor Miles was a relatively new hire at the university, a woman just out of graduate school in her early thirties; she was, especially compared to the older professors on the staff, a beautiful woman with nice curves. She usually kept her full C cup breasts modestly hidden behind loose sweaters or other clothing that didn't really accentuate her figure. That was, in fact, how she was dressed today when the knock came to her office door; sitting behind her desk in a knee length black skirt and crimson sweater, one wouldn't be able to tell that the brunette professor had such a desirable body beneath those concealing clothes.

"Come in," She called, to whomever was on the other side of the door. The knob turned, and a young woman stepped in through the open portal. Nina Gordon, one of her students from her Introduction to Research Writing classes, was a fairly typical 19 year old; thin and pretty, with light blonde hair, Nina didn't seem to have much in the way of curves. Her breasts were small, but perky; she did, though, wear tops that would accentuate what little curves she did have.

"Professor Miles? Do you have a minute? I'd like to talk to you about the grade you gave me on my paper." Nina asked, tentatively and somewhat shyly, from the doorway. Trying to be as inviting as she could be, Professor Miles smiled and nodded her head, gesturing toward one of the seats across from her desk. 

"Of course. Please, come in and have a seat." Nina stepped away from the doorway, pulling the door closed as she did so. She let her backpack drop to the floor beside the chair she chose, leaning back in it and folding her hands somewhat nervously in her lap. "What can I do for you, Nina?"

"Well, Professor Miles... it's about the grade on my paper. You gave me an F on it, but I don't think I deserved it. I put a lot of work into that paper." There was almost a whiney quality to her voice when she made her protest, lending the Professor to think the girl had somewhat of an air of entitlement. Dana frowned lightly, putting both of her hands on the surface of her desk.

"I understand your frustration, Nina, but your paper really wasn't an acceptable submission. The assignment was to write a research paper, with sources, about a topic. You handed in a paper about psychic mind control, without a single source on it. As a matter of fact, you wrote the entire thing from a perspective of personal experience. That's not a research paper, Nina. That's a fictional story."

Nina huffed, sitting forward in her chair. The look of shock was so sudden that Dana was almost taken aback. The Professor almost felt sorry for the student, assuming that she simply didn't understand the assignment; she offered her best sympathetic smile in reaction to Nina's response.

"But it's not a story, Professor Miles!" Nina replied, incredulous. "It's true! There's no sources on it or whatever, but everything in the paper is real. It's all from personal experience and stuff."

Dana sighed slightly; she always hated it when students argued with her over things that they were clearly wrong about. "Nina," the Professor began, leaning forward in her chair, "you expect me to believe that your paper on mental control and reality shaping through psychic powers is not only real, but is a compilation of your prior experiences? Do you realize how improbable... no, impossible that is? There are no such things as mental powers, Nina. It's all fantasy."

"But it's not fantasy!" Nina protested. The young blonde student frowned, and seemed to stare rather intently at her professor. Dana felt a dull pressure build up in the back of her head, growing rather intense over the course of thirty seconds, before finally dissipating. It left her blinking, slightly confused. She shook her head to clear it.

"Nina... Miss Gordon," Dana corrected herself, slipping from referring to the young student in a more respectful, formal manner, "it is a fantasy. It is no more a research paper than one on a fanciful dream that you had would be, or what you thought about a television show. It makes the content for a good story, but not for an academic paper. I'll allow you to write another paper for partial credit, but I'm afraid that's as good as I can do for you."

"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider, Professor Miles?" Nina asked with a sudden trace of casualness in her tone.

"There's nothing for me to reconsider, I'm afraid. And please, call me Dana, ma'am."

It was Nina's turn to sigh, shaking her head a bit as she did so. "Okay, Dana. I was really hoping that you'd be more reasonable. I've really liked your class, and I think you're a pretty good professor. I didn't want to have to prove it to you or anything, I was just hoping that you'd have more of an open mind about everything."

"Prove it to me?" Dana asked of her student, sounding a bit incredulous herself. She reached down to the hem of her sweater and pulled it upward, over her head; the garment was dropped casually on the floor as her heavy breasts bounced from the motion. "How would you prove it to me if it doesn't exist?"

"By taking control of you, Dana. I mean, you wouldn't know that I'm doing it. Every time I use it, everything seems perfectly natural in the person's mind. It's sort of like... planting an idea in their mind. It just appears in there, and everything seems completely natural to them. They'd never know that they were behaving strangely."

"But, Miss Gordon," the Professor countered as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. With the tension suddenly gone, her generous tits spilled free. Nina admired them, firm and still perky for their size, with tiny upturned nipples that were already erect. "If the person doesn't know that they are behaving strangely, then how is it really proof?"

"Well, you wouldn't at first. But I can always come back later and make you realize what you've done. Or make you do things to embarrass you publicly until somebody else points it out to you. That wouldn't really make you notice it, but it's really fun to watch their reaction later when they realize all of the weird shit they've done." Nina leaned back in her seat, admiring the now topless Professor. Dana reached up and began to gently caress her breasts, running her fingers over the nipples, tweaking and gently pinching them. This elicited soft moans and mews from the woman. "But I can also change other things, as well."

"Like what?" Dana replied. She reached down to unzip her skirt and pull it off, followed by the basic white panties she was wearing; this last item she simply threw in the trashcan, as she knew she would never be wearing them again. After her hands left her breasts, the twin perky mounds began to slowly change. They began to lose their firmness as they slowly sagged downward; her nipples, no longer pointing upward, began to grow and thicken. They stood out from the tips of her tits, pointing straight down. By the time the transformation was complete her breasts were now exceptionally saggy, almost reaching her waist.

"Well, that." Nina replied, smiling with a smug satisfaction. "Like, it's not right for a servant to have perkier tits than her mistress is it?"

"Of course not, Mistress," Dana replied, as if this were an obvious conclusion. The now-nude Professor pushed her chair back and stood up so that she could jump in place; her breasts, only moments before firm, now flopped wildly with the motion. She kept this up while Mistress spoke.

"There are other things I did, but you won't notice them yet. Like not being able to cum unless a woman cums on your face. Or that you've completely forgotten how to masturbate, just in case you were tempted to try it." Nina hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her leggings and pulled them down; Dana stared greedily at the now exposed, shaved pussy of the 19 year old student. She stopped jumping and dropped to her hands and knees, crawling around to the other side of the desk. As she crawled, her pendulous breasts hung beneath her with the nipples dragging over the carpet. "And that you're no longer attracted to men, and can't resist the sight of pussy. You're just an eager cuntlicker now," Nina replied.

This all made perfect sense to Dana as she reached the chair of her student. With her hands planted firmly on the floor, she leaned in to put her mouth against the wet box of her student; the smell was intoxicating as she inhaled deeply. Her tongue darted out, running up the length of her slit, stopping to flick against the exposed clit. Though she'd never eaten pussy before, or ever even thought about it, she knew exactly what to do to please her owner. She lifted her right hand, sliding her index finger into the waiting tight hole as she continued to lap away. Nina began to pet her hair, which made Dana very happy. Locked in that place, it only took the student a few moments to reach the edge of her climax, moaning loudly as she gripped the hair of her submissive Professor. Her thighs clenched around the other woman's head as she came, her juices coating Dana's face; with Nina's release, Dana was tipped into orgasm. Her pussy, much looser now thanks to Nina's influence, clenched and squirted backward against her desk, making a mess against the wooden structure. 

Breathlessly, Nina looked down at the kneeling woman. "There..." She said, between pants. "Now, pet, have you reconsidered?"

"Of course, Mistress," Dana replied, dreamily, "I'd be glad to alter your grade. It was silly of me to doubt you." She spoke with a giggle, like a young woman would do. Nina beamed at that. 

"Oh good! Why don't you go ahead and lick up the mess you made. And when you're done with that, you can change my grade."

Dana eagerly agreed. She spent the next halfhour making sure to lick up every trace of her cum from the desk and floor before moving, nude, back to her desk to change the grade of her favorite student.



Office Hours



This one is especially for the college professors out there...I think it's my most explicit & descriptive audio so far...I love reading your public comments & receiving your private feedback.  I only have one more audio to post...unless I can be persuaded to record more...

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Click Here to listen. (6 min/mp3)

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Office Hours



I only fuck my A students. I tried fucking a D student that wanted to be an A student once but it was an entirely unsatisfying experience. She was just way too eager. 'A' students, on the other hand, fuck you because they want you. 

The first time I fucked one was during my first year as a professor. Being new in town I would spend most evenings frequenting bars and coffee shops in the evenings with the hope of gaining new friends. I would go to bars the nights I wanted to get laid and go to coffee shops the nights that I wanted to get work done. I was at a coffee shop when one of my students walked in. She noticed me. Asked if she could join me. We talked about class. She asked if I lived around there. Said it was weird to think about what my house might look like. I asked if she wanted to see it. One thing led to another and soon enough she was kneeling face down on my bed with my rock hard dick ramming into her sopping wet cunt. 

After fucking she told me very matter of factly that I could probably fuck most of the women in class and probably a few of the guys. I told her I wasn't that attractive. She said, "Maybe, but you hold our attention day in and day out, you have a commanding presence, forty minutes into your class my panties are sopping wet." 

Since then I say I average about three to four fucks per semester.

Successful student fucking requires careful consideration. Like I said, I only fuck 'A' students and I also avoid underclassmen. Freshmen and Sophomores just haven't figured out their emotional shit yet—although I have made exceptions. 

One of my dirtiest fucks was with a first year who was just weeks over 18. She had aced the first two tests and had come to my office hours so I could show her how to use some software that she needed for her final project. I wasn't even considering the possibility that anything would happen and invited her to come around my desk so she could see the screen. My office door was open so anyone walking by could have seen she was in there. As non-chalantly as can be, her hand landed in my crotch--the hallway view blocked by my desk and a stack of books--and started caressing my hardening shaft as I tried to explain the ins and outs of the software. 

She told me she was walking home and that she lived in the commons. I walked out to the faculty parking lot, got my car, drove the route she would be walking, pulled up next to her when I saw her, and without hesitation she climbed into my front seat. We drove to my house and she stayed down so that no one would see us as I pulled into my attached garage. By the time I had parked she had my pants undone and was pulling my dick out. 

We moved to the living room with our clothes being discarded along the way. Her small breasts seemingly defying gravity and her shaved twat and small ass were beyond belief. Her blow job was earnest in the way an 18 year old's blow jobs always are and when she told me that no one had made her cum from eating her out before, after I had done so of course, I believed her. She told me she was saving herself for marriage so she made me fuck her ass. The way her asshole took my dick led me to guess that she had used that line on others. After cumming in her ass we went to the bathroom and filled up the bathtub where we continued to fondle each other. When my dick was hard again she climbed up on top of me and seemlessly led my dick into her cunt. The stubble of her shaved pussy tickled my shaft as I penetrated her. 

"I thought you were saving yourself for marriage," I said. 

"Nah, I just wanted you to fuck me in the ass."

She was the only freshman I have fucked, though. Like I said, too much emotion in that set. Besides they stick around for a while. She didn't take any other classes with me, but I did fuck her one more time her senior year after a party to celebrate our top graduating students. 

I ran into her again a couple years after she graduated and she had a big wedding band on her finger. She looked at it and laughed. Later that night the doorbell rang. It was her and we had one more go for old times sake. That night I only did get to fuck her ass. She said the pussy was now strictly for her husband.

When fucking a student it is best to let them live out their fantasy. I get to fuck lots of students but I am probably the only professor they will ever get to fuck. One woman, artfully covered with tattoos and piercings through both nipples, had always wanted to dominate a professor. A reverse authority fantasy thing. While I typically try to keep the fucks to a one, maybe two, time occurrence, I let this particular one play out over the course of a week. It started out quite normally. She gave me the signals that she wanted me and I gave her the signals that she could have me and then we were at my home and on our way to a night of getting each other off. She said I was such a dominating figure in the classroom that it would be funny if I was a total sub in the bedroom. I asked her if that is what she fantasized about--dominating me--and she said, "Oh, yes." 

The first night started with what I had at the house, candle wax on my chest and ass and a fairly rigorous spanking. Each night that week she brought new things in. Handcuffs, cock rings, whips, a strapon. That was her favorite night. She just couldn't get enough of having her professor bent over the couch while she rammed his ass with a strapon. She kept whispering in my ear how she knew I secretly desired to have every boy in the class doing the same thing. I didn't, but I told her I did. After a week we called things off. They all quickly realize that the fantasy is hot, but continuing on would just make it mundane. 

It is always interesting to see what they have underneath their clothes because that gives a pretty good indication of whether they had intended to fuck you or if this is spontaneous lust. A ratty pair of cotton underwear with an untrimmed bush is just pure spontaneous lust. When they got up in the morning they weren't even thinking anyone would see their underwear, let alone their professor. The fuck is going to be aggressive and dirty. Its that kind of fucking that makes my dick feel four inches bigger when I am grinding into her cunt. They always cum the hardest, too. 

The one's with the matching panties and bras, deliberately chosen thongs, shaved and overly manicured bushes typically take longer. They have thought through what they wanted. I have been their object of late night masturbation for weeks and they have to decide which fantasy they want to make real. I let them be the seducer. Let them believe that I did not expect their advances, that they were the first to be so bold. The sex with them is always kinky. There is always some hidden dark fantasy that they want to live. They have tied me to beds, tried the most awkward positions, told me the most perverted fantasies. Those fucks generally last till dawn as multiple fantasies get played out in a single night. Nothing like facing a lecture hall with no sleep and the woman whose twat you can still taste on your tongue is sitting in the third row. 

One of my favorites was a woman who wore a corset, thong and stockings and then gave me a blow job and then hand job and then tit fuck before she let me fuck her. She also kept a finger in my asshole the whole night. She said she read that in Cosmo. She had me purring like a kitty.

I mostly fuck undergraduates but every now and then graduate students will make themselves available. Graduate students are a problem because they see the possibilities of a relationship. Undergraduates, well, they just want sex. 

One semester I was teaching a large Freshman seminar and had two graduate student TAs. They were both new to the program and it was their first assignment. I invited them over to my house for pizza to go over syllabi and reading assignments and how to conduct sections. Like I said they were graduate students so I had no intention of fucking either of them. One of them, Angela, started talking and I noticed her tongue was pierced. I'd never been sucked off by someone with a pierced tongue but she hadn't given me any indication that she wanted to do that with me. It was the other one, Julie, who made the first comment. "Oh, cool your tongue is pierced. Do you like it?" 

"My ex did but I dumped him when I came to grad school. I was thinking I should take it out now that I am going to be in front of a classroom."

Julie frowned and said, "You should take it for one more spin before you do." 

Angela laughed and said, "Yeah but I'd have to find someone first." 

"Well, you got a clit and a dick here so take your pick." Julie gave an innocent oh did I say too much smile and said, "Sorry Dr. Speck." 

I just said, "Don't apologize to me. Isn't it every student's fantasy to sleep with their professor?" 

"The hot ones," Angela said. 

Julie said to Angela, "Speck is hot." 

Angela agreed and they both lunged for me. I hadn't been in a threesome since college and that one sucked. This one did not suck. Julie was one of the kinkiest, dirtiest, fucks I had ever had and she led the entire proceedings. She was the first to try out Angela's tongue and when it was my turn she pinned me on my back and ground her wet cunt into my mouth while Angela licked and sucked me. The pierced tongue was a great added sensation but didn't match the Altoid sucking redhead from two semesters ago, the most naturally gifted cock sucker I have ever been with. 

I particularly enjoyed Julie and Angela's tits. I am not picky about tits. Small, medium and large each have their advantages. Julie and Angela both had large tits and they seemed to particularly like sandwiching me and rubbing them against me. There were so many large fucking breasts that it was hard to tell which was which. I didn't care I sucked all of them. Julie also had a wonderfully filthy mouth. Angela was a "cocksucking slut" and I was a "cunt sucker." When I fucked her she was praising my marvelous cock and kept saying how much she wanted to fuck it all night. When she wasn't praising the overall awesomeness of my dick she was buried deep into Angela's pussy. 

Angela was the one that insisted that I cum on their faces. "Just like in porn," she yelled. They both kneeled in front of me with their mouths open while I unloaded my jizz onto their faces and onto their tongues. When I was done they eagerly licked it off of each other exchanging deep wet kisses. After we all cleaned up they headed home and for the rest of the time in the graduate program they were inseparable. Last I heard they were still together. They, to date, were the best TAs I ever had.

The closest I ever came to being caught was when an instructor in the department noticed the look on the face of one of my most recent fucks as she left my office. I never fuck on campus but I had spent the last night screwing her and she must have had some sort of residual glow to her. 

Alice, my colleague, came into my office and asked me what was up with her and I said what do you mean and Alice said you know what I mean. There was a pause and then she laughed. 

"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell anyone. I indulge myself sometimes." 

I raised my eyebrow. "They are so eager and compliant," she said. "You want to go get coffee?" 

We decided it would be cheaper to just go brew coffee at her place so we went over there and started trading stories. Alice was filthy and completely dominated the men she seduced. She showed me her closet and her toy chest. She said the most she had ever had over in one night was four and by the end of the night she just sat back and watched them all fuck and suck each other off. She even had women over and after exchanging notes I learned where my dominatrix had learned her skills. 

"She fucked you in the ass?" 

"All night long." 

"That I would have liked to have seen. Better yet, that I would like to do." 

"Be my guest," I said. 

She fucked me like a pro and when she was done I returned the favor. Soon we started to see more of each other and started to combine our exploits. Her favorite thing to do was to invite students over and see what she could get them to do. The innocent Mormon virgin that sucked my dick while Alice rimmed her asshole and masturbated her clit. When I blew my load into her mouth she eagerly swallowed without hesitation. By the time she went home Alice had shaved her twat smooth and I had fucked her twice. 

She loved filming frat boys masturbating. Sometimes I would come home late from class and I would find her in the bedroom watching one of her home made DVDs while she vigorously rubbed on her swollen clit. Sometimes I would find her with a frat boy giving him detailed instructions on how to fuck. Sometimes I would strip down and let her suck my cock while he fucked her. Once he bent over and started sucking my cock, too. She laughed and asked me if I liked that. I said it wasn't bad. He exploded inside her and then I fucked my first male ass. She masturbated like hell while she enjoyed the show.

All good things come to an end and eventually I got a better job offer and moved on. Alice and I meet up each year at our discipline's annual meeting and put a little spice in the proceedings. One year she chaired a panel that I was a discussant on. The three papers were presented by three graduate students, one man and two women. Alice suggested we go get drinks. By the end of the night we were in her hotel room, all her willing slaves with each one receiving my cock according to Alice's instructions. 

The semesters roll on and as I grow older I grow a bit more selective. Every now and then one of my former students will look me up and rekindle our night or two of passion. Many have kids and have put on weight, but they all remain fabulous fucks. College taught them well.



Office Hours



"Professor Hart?"

She peered hesitantly around the doorframe. The professor sat at his desk, on the phone. Without interrupting his conversation, he nodded at her, pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk and gestured for her to close the door behind her. She sat, staring aimlessly around the room while he finished his conversation.

It was the end of only her first semester of college, and things had not gone very well. Or, rather, that is to say, they had not gone very well academically. Socially, it had been the best four months of her life, but between the weekday frat parties and weekend-long benders, somehow her previously-sterling work ethic had fallen behind. On top of this, since she depended on her athletic scholarship to even be able to attend the prestigious school, what free time she had was dedicated to volleyball games and practices. Unfortunately, this scholarship also required she maintain a minimum 3.0 GPA.

Which is what brought her to Professor Hart's office. It was the last day of the term, and he was the fourth professor she had visited that day. So far, she had begged, pleaded, and compromised her way into passing grades for all of her failing classes. Professor Hart's class, Intro to Poetry, was the last on the list.

While it was probably her least favorite class, she had saved it for last because she knew it would be the easiest to wrangle a better grade in. Professor Hart was the very definition of the bumbling, bookish type. He was nice, but an obvious pushover, and would stumble and prattle through his lectures even after half of the class had fallen asleep.

He finished his conversation with a series of polite pleasantries and hung up the phone. He turned to her and smiled.

"Miss Taylor. What can I do for you?"

She put her gameface on: a serious, sad pout. "Well, Professor, it's about my grade."

"Ah yes." He turned to his computer. "Let me pull up your scores, but if I recall, they are not good, are they?"

"No...." She looked down at her legs, pressed together at the knees and crossed demurely at the ankles. She drooped her shoulders slightly, adding to the appearance of a bedraggled, helpless student. Such an act had worked on every other teacher so far, and while she figured this would be an easy kill, there was no need to get cocky. "I mean, you see...I don't know, this semester hasn't gone well for me overall...."

"Mmm," Professor Hart murmured noncommittally, still looking at his screen.

"I mean, the stress of moving to school, across the country, I've never been away from home for so long and—"

"Really? You didn't go to boarding school?"

She stumbled, surprised to have her sob story interrupted. "Um...no...? Why?"

"Ah." He inclined his head in her direction. "Well, your preferred outfit would suggest otherwise. I mean I can't imagine why else anyone would own so many different short plaid skirts."

She looked at her outfit, self-consciously tugging her hemline slightly further down. "Oh, well I just like them, is all."

"You like them, or you like the reactions they get from men?"

She blinked at him, unsure how to respond. He didn't seem to expect an answer, though, and turned back to the computer screen. A few more clicks, then he reached up to turn the monitor around. "Here are my records for all of the scores on your papers for the term. These are the same ones you can access through the website. I haven't submitted the overall grade to the registrar's office for the final academic record, but at this point this is how it stands. Do you think that there is a discrepancy?"

Now that the conversation was back on the track she was expecting, she slid back into her vulnerable waif act. "Oh, no, I'm...I mean, I checked all the scores, and they're right, but I...I was wondering...."

"Yes?" She couldn't gauge his expression, but it had lost a lot of the warmth it had shown when she walked into the office, warmth that she was used to receiving from him. Unnerved, she still continued.

"I was wondering if I might discuss...adjusting the scores?" She blinked at him slowly through liquid-filled eyes.

He remained silent, just sitting there watching her. At this point, most of the previous professors had reacted to her obvious distress, asking her what was wrong, giving her the opportunity to launch into fabricated stories about troubles at home and deaths of grandparents.

But by watching her cooly, he was refusing to establish an emotional connection. She decided she would have to broach the topic herself. "My...dad, he's been sick, and we're really close, and being so far from home.... I tried to go back and visit as much as I could, on weekends when I didn't have games, and during the week I had practice, so with all of that I just haven't had a lot of time to do my homework this semester."

He continued to watch her, chin resting on folded hands. "Why didn't you mention this earlier in the semester?"

She already had an established answer for this. "I was worried about the team finding out. You know Coach Bufkin; he's a jackass. If he even thought that there was a chance of me taking the rest of the semester off to go home and be with my dad, he might bench me so that one of the other girls could get more practice in my place."

Professor Hart nodded, still showing no emotion. Wordlessly, he got up and walked over to one of the many bookshelves lining the entire wall. While most of the shelves held leaning piles of books, one of the shelves at eye-level showcased an assortment of plaques and odd-sized crystal objects, all apparently teaching awards and objects proclaiming his membership in various literary societies. He idly started to dust off the objects, his back to her.

"When was the last time you visited your father?" he asked suddenly, without turning around.

She jumped slightly at his clipped question. "Oh, uh...Thanksgiving."

"Ah. The entire break?"

"Well, yes, I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible."

"Mmm." He turned around, arms folded, and leaned nonchalantly back against the bookshelf. His body language was relaxed, which didn't match the harshness of his next statement. "Then how, exactly, Miss Taylor, were you able to come back to campus in time to stumble half-naked out of the Kappa Delta house at 7 am Friday morning, immediately after Thanksgiving?"

She gaped at him. "What...? No, that couldn't have been—wait, why would you know that?"

"You forget, Miss Taylor, that I am an on-campus faculty resident. I was out for a run, and saw you--with your trademark short skirt and barely-a-shirt—leaving the KD house, ostensibly headed in the direction of your dorm."

Scared that she was doomed, she still tried to protest. "Maybe there was a school-girl party at the KD house! It could have been anyone leaving at that hour!"

"Oh, believe me, it was you. You were too drunk to notice me, but I was close enough to you to see not only your face, but your obvious lack of undergarments as well."

Her face flushed, then anger set in. "Well you can stand there and make these disgusting accusations all you want, but it's your word against mine!"

"My word, and the word of whomever you were with at KD that night. Although," he chuckled lightly to himself, "that list might get rather long."

Her anger spiked, then faded as she realized he had her cornered. As she glared at him, she suddenly realized this meant more than just failing his class. If he went to the department with this information, word would reach her other professors. She would fail all her classes.

She would be expelled.

Suddenly the room seemed a whole lot smaller, the bookshelves looming up on either side of her. Her breathing became shallow and faster and she rubbed her neck nervously. Professor Hart still hadn't moved from where he leaned casually against the bookshelf.

As the panic increased, she looked at him with real distress in her eyes. "Professor...you can't...I can't fail, I need—"

She stopped as he moved away from the bookshelf. He approached her, sitting on the edge of his desk, facing her. "You need to pass this class?" he asked in his calm voice.

She looked at the list of terrible scores on the monitor. "Yes."

"You want me to keep this information to myself?"

She shuddered. "Yes."

He nodded, then leaned back on the desk, stroking his chin thoughtfully. She sat quietly, wrapped in misery, until his stern voice snapped her out of it.

"Stand up."

She looked at him curiously. He stared back patiently. "Miss Taylor, I said stand up."

She did, slowly.

"Face me."

She turned to face him where he sat on the desk, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Take off your shirt."

She stared at him, looking directly into his eyes. He didn't move, but the stare that met hers was cool and fierce. There was nothing of the bumbling, silly professor in it. She shuddered to herself, fear increasing, and her eyes flicked toward the door.

He had obviously noticed her shifting gaze. "You can walk out now, Miss Taylor, certainly, and accept the consequences of your actions this semester, or..." he exhaled slowly, his voice deepening, "or you can do what I am telling you to do.

She shifted uncertainly, chewing her lip. Professor Hart watched her calmly.

Finally, she made a decision and started to unbutton her shirt.

He didn't move as she undid the shirt button by button, gradually revealing her breasts. Most of the other athletic girls she knew lost their breasts first when they lost body fat, but she had been lucky. They loomed up and out of her bra, swelling with her breath as she dropped her shirt to the floor.

He looked at her quietly for a few moments, then inclined his head wordlessly. She sighed, then reached back to undo the clasp of the bra.

Her breasts flowed out, rich and full, as the bra joined the blouse on the floor. Assuming that he wanted a show, she reached up to cup them, play with them. She stroked along their silky sides, letting them fill her hands as she squeezed them gently. Gradually she moved to her nipples, flicking and pinching them slightly, getting them to swell up and harden.

Without warning, Professor Hart stood up. "Come up to the desk." She did, pivoting to face him. "No, face the desk." Confused, she did as he asked, examining the desk in front of her. While his bookshelves were filled with books and awards, his desk was studiously neat and uncluttered.

"Bend over the desk," he said, still standing off to the side.

Seeing where things were going, she tensed up. "Wait, I thought you just wanted a show?"

He moved quickly, coming up beside her and reaching his hand into her hair. He gripped it tightly and thrust her head down toward the polished wood surface of the desk. She gasped, hands slapping down to support her weight. Keeping hold of her hair, he leaned down and spoke sternly and heavily into her ear.

"Did I say that? Do you think you deserve to get off so lightly? With everything you've done this semester, fucking random boys instead of doing your schoolwork, lying to your professors, lying to me to try and get away with it?"

She shuddered, speechless. He gripped her hair harder and continued. "Now, I think you have a lot to make up for, don't you agree?" Gulping, she nodded. "So, are you ready to make it up to me?"

There was silence while she weighed her options. Finally, she nodded again.

"I want to hear you say it," he whispered heavily.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Professor, I am ready to make it up to you."

In response, he lay one hand on her naked lower back, keeping the other in her hair. He stroked her back slowly, the warm valley of muscular skin, then moved his hand down toward her skirt. He cupped her ass through the skirt. Even with his large hand, he was barely able to fully grip one cheek of its muscular swell. He growled slightly as he ran his hand around it over the skirt. Finally, with a fierce tug, he pulled the skit up, exposing her bare ass, clad only in a thong.

He rubbed his hand firmly around her ass once more, breathing heavily. Then he let go, and before she could look around to see what he was doing, he brought the hand back in a firm thwack!

She gasped and jerked, but he still had a hold on her hair, pinning her down. Before she could catch her breath he spanked her again, the sting sending painful tingles all the way up her spine. She stifled her cry against her arm.

Seeing this, he leaned down next to her ear once again. "There is a reason I chose a basement office, Miss Taylor, and Professor Wallace down the hall is on vacation. I want to hear more noise out of you."

She nodded, and cried out throatily as he brought the hand back heavily. Her shoulders heaved as the pain faded to a warm glow, only to fire up again with the next slap.

She started to lose track of time as he worked on her ass, varying the intensity and the interval of each spank. Soon she was moaning almost continually, twisting under his grip on her hair.

Without warning, he pulled her back up to standing. She stumbled, ass stinging and tender under her skirt. He kept one hand on her hair, but brought up his other hand to play with her breasts himself. He stroked them as he had seen her do, feeling their silky sides, and pinching the nipples. His pinches got harder and harder, and as he worked one, he brought his head down to suck and nibble at the other. She moaned as his tongue traced her hardened nipple, flicking against it as his finger was doing to the other nipple, and yelled as he bit down at the same time that he pinched the other.

He released her breasts and pulled her into a kiss, commanding and greedy. She opened to him, letting his tongue flick across hers, letting him suck and bite her lips. Gradually, she started to nibble his in return. He responded by dropping his free hand to her low back, pressing her firmly against him. She reached around him to grab his ass and stroke his back. She could already feel the bulge in his pants pressing eagerly against her thin skirt.

Keeping one hand in her hair, he stepped away from the embrace. He held her still with his gaze, while his other hand reached down to undo his pants. He pulled them down just enough to free his already swollen cock.

She reached down toward it, but he grabbed her wrists with one hand. He moved her hands up while his other hand pressed firmly against the top of her head. She got the picture and lowered herself to her knees, her arms above her head in his grip. Kneeling thrust her breasts forward and her full athletic ass back, and he stood there admiring her for a moment. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

Finally he moved her head toward his cock, bobbing right in front of her face. Still looking up at him, she gently licked the tip. He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, as she licked further up and down the shaft, lubricating and teasing him at the same time. He released her hands, and she brought them in to gently squeeze and wrap his shaft while she moved from licking to sucking the head.

She started to get into her usual routine when suddenly his free hand came down to cup her jaw. Curious, she looked back up at him, and saw his eyes harden with greedy lust. The pressure on the back of her head increased, slowly moving her to take him deeper into her mouth. She struggled, never having taken a cock so deep before, but with both of his hands bracing her head she couldn't escape. Her hands grabbed his hips as he thrust deep into her, his cock pressing against the roof of her mouth and swelling in the back of her throat. His balls brushed against her chin and her nose filled with the masculine scent of him. She gagged once, but he didn't remove himself. Panicked, she gagged again, harder, and this time he released her and slid out. She heaved and panted for breath. He watched her regain her composure, then moved her head toward him again. She opened her mouth to take the head, expecting to work up to the full penetration; instead, he trust all the way into her at once, hands gripping her head firmly against her struggles. Again, he released her after two heaving gags.

"That is very good, Miss Taylor," he said calmly, breaking the silence. She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and looked up at him. "Have you done that before?" She silently shook her head no. He chuckled. "Well, then I am glad you learned at least one thing from me this semester."

Before she could respond, he pulled her onto his cock again. This time he didn't plunge all the way, but he did slowly work his way in and out, fucking her face. She surrendered to his will completely, resting her hands lightly on his hips without struggle.

After a few minutes of this, he pulled himself out of her mouth and pulled her to her feet. "Leave the skirt on, take off your underwear and bend back over the desk again." She did as he asked, leaning on the glossy wood, the computer monitor with the damning scores still sitting at the peripheral of her vision. She heard rustling behind her as he took his clothes off completely.

She jumped slightly when his hand came back to touch her ass again, which was still tender from the earlier punishment. His grip turned hard, and he spread her cheeks wide to expose her pussy and anus. His fingers traced her folds, feeling the smooth curve of her shaved mound. She gasped when one dipped inside her pussy. It wiggled around briefly, then was removed.

He made a surprised sound. "Hmm. Is this...activity, exciting you, Miss Taylor?"

She looked back over her shoulder. "No...not really...." she said, refusing to admit it herself.

"No what?"

"No...Professor."

"Hmm. Then how do you explain this?" He thrust his finger into her mouth. She tasted her juices all over it, thick and dripping. When he removed the finger, all she could do was look back at the desk in shame.

He made an amused noise, then stepped back. She continued to stare down at the desk as she heard him rustling behind her. Finally, her nervousness got the better of her and she glanced back to see that he had stripped naked and was siding a condom onto his cock. "Face forward, Miss Taylor," he chided, and she quickly obeyed.

He stepped up behind her and grabbed her roughly, spreading her ass again. Before she could prepare herself, she felt his cock pushing greedily against her pussy. She gasped as he thrust into her fully, all the way to the base, and held there as she whimpered and quivered against him. He removed himself slowly, only to slam himself all the way in again. Ignoring her cries, he started to pound her hard, in and out, fully embedding and removing himself every time. She spread her legs wider, to get a better grip on the floor, and to allow him to go deeper. His hands rested on her hips, right above where her skirt was shoved up, and helped guide her onto his cock. She gasped and moaned as every thrust made the pleasure in her body build.

After awhile, he leaned forward, one hand gripping her hair again. She could feel his hot, sweaty weight tensed above her, working in and out of her. She could barely hear his heavy breaths over her cries.

"Do the other boys fuck you like this, Miss Taylor?" he whispered heavily into her ear. "Do you let them take you whenever they please?" All she could do in response was moan louder.

"Have you ever let two boys take you at once?" he asked, then gripped her hair harder when she didn't respond. "Answer me, Miss Taylor."

Gasping, she shook her head no.

"Well, perhaps we have to...double the stakes, then...."

He released her and slid out of her all at once. She collapsed onto the desk, panting and writhing. Twisting to the side to watch him, she saw him approach the shelf of awards he had been inspecting earlier. He regarded them carefully, ignoring his nakedness or his cock still solidly at attention. Finally, he selected a crystal sculpture from the back, a taller one. As he approached her, she could see it was some bizarrely abstract structure, a twisted cylinder on a wooden base with a plaque.




Office Hours



"I received this in graduate school," he said conversationally. "A paper of mine won a competition at a conference. It didn't take long, though, for me to discover a more...practical use for it."

With a twist, he removed the crystal cylinder from the wooden base. The bottom of the cylinder flared out sharply, and with a sudden sense of dread, she realized what he was going to do with it.

He saw her fearful look of understanding and smiled. He came to the desk and held the sculpture to her face. "Lick it," he commanded, and she proceeded to lick and slobber it as hungrily as she had worked on his cock. After a few seconds he removed it and went back behind her.

She tensed, knowing what was coming as he spread her cheeks. "Relax," he commanded, stroking her gently down the length of her back. She sighed, and tried as she felt the cool wetness of the sculpture press against her asshole. He stroked her gently along her back, along her ass, slowly working it deeper inside her. She moaned slightly as its cool weight filled her, stretching her anus, exposing her in a way she'd rarely felt before. He stopped when he reached the flared base, which nestled neatly between her butt cheeks. Leaving it there, he stepped back to admire his work. She leaned on the desk, breathing heavily and trying to stay relaxed, when he suddenly spanked her again. She gasped and tensed, only to immediately gasp again as her tension increased the feeling of fullness in her ass.

He moved back to her and slid his cock back into her pussy without warning. She tightened against him, feeling his hot cock contrast with the cold sculpture. He groaned greedily, leaning over her on the desk, grabbing her hair yet again. He started working into her, breathing heavily and moaning in her ear about how tight she felt with his toy in her ass. She gasped and cried, unaware of anything but the thick fullness, stretching her and pounding her at the same time. It wasn't long before she started thrusting back against him, aching for more, her quivering ass and pussy begging for him to complete her like she'd never even known she needed before.

His grip on her tightened, pulling her ear closer to his mouth. "I'm going to pound you until I'm ready to cum, but you're going to take my cum in your mouth like a good girl. And good girls swallow all the cum they're given." She moaned and nodded. "When I release you, you're going to kneel back on the floor and take my cock down your throat. Do you understand?"

"Yes Professor," she gasped.

"Good girl," he growled, then leaned back up and started pounding her even harder. His balls slapped against her, banging up against her clit, and his hands dug into her hips. He snarled like an animal, completely out of control, and she cried and heaved underneath him.

Finally, his groans became louder and faster, and he released her hips and stepped away. Remembering her orders, she scrambled to kneel on the floor facing him. He slid off the condom then grabbed her head, wrenching her jaw open with one hand, and pulled her head onto his cock with the other. He thrust all the way into her throat and quivered inside her, ignoring her heaves and gags. Finally he cried out, and she felt his hot cum start to fill her. She gagged more, struggling to swallow, but the muscular clenching of her throat just milked more out of him. It spilled up out of her mouth, dripping down her chin, and she struggled with the hot, salty masculinity of it. Finally, shuddering, he pulled out of her, and she fell to her hands and knees, coughing and sputtering. She struggled not to throw up.

When she had herself back under control, he reached down to help her to her feet. He bent her slowly back over the desk, and she tensed again, expecting more spanking. But he just removed the sculpture from her ass and placed it on the desk. He led her toward the seat she sat in earlier, and she sank into it gratefully.

Without a word, he moved back around the desk to his chair. He sat down, pivoted the monitor back toward him, and started typing.

She sat there, immobile, while he silently worked. Hesitantly, she reached down and started putting her clothes back on. When he didn't protest, she continued, then sat back down.

She jumped as a sudden mechanical clunking broke the silence, but it was just the printer going off. She looked at him expectantly, as he continued to type, still naked in his chair.

When the printer was done, he grabbed the paper and scrawled a signature at the bottom. "Take this note to the registrar. Let her know that you'll be getting a passing grade for this class, but I will be enrolling you in an independent study next semester. Tell her to email me if she has any questions."

She beamed, but then his full statement sunk in. "Independent study?"

He looked up at her sharply. "Yes Miss Taylor. Once a week, here in my office."

She looked crestfallen. "But, I thought—"

He cut her off with a patronizing chuckle. "You thought what, that today would make up for it? No, Miss Taylor, today was for lying to me. You still have an entire semester's worth of failing grades to make up for."

She met his gaze silently, once again surprisingly unable to read the emotion of this man who she had thought was a rather boring, predictable person. After a few breaths, she nodded slowly.

"Will that do, Miss Taylor?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?" he asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

To her surprise, she smiled in return. "Yes, Professor."



Office Hours



When I was at university, I was a fairly good student and ended up graduating on-time with ease. However, there was maybe one course each year that gave me some trouble.

In my sophomore year, that course happened to be microeconomics. I didn't want to take it, but it was required for my major, so I had no choice. It was so damn boring I nearly fell asleep in the middle of every class. Honestly, the main reason I even went in the first place was to ogle the professor.

Victoria Sloan was known among all the male students as one of the hottest teachers on campus. She was a 5'7" married blonde who, even at the age of 35, wasn't afraid to wear revealing clothes that showed off her tits or her legs or both. It almost made up for the fact that her grading scale was tougher than it had to be. She didn't curve at all. I, along with everyone else, struggled to pass the weekly quizzes. On the positive side, it was nice being able to fantasize about her constantly during class, but that wasn't going to do me any good when it came to actually learning the material.

Predictably enough, I didn't do well, and I entered the final exam needing a really good grade on it to manage a C overall. Otherwise, I would have to retake the class next semester. That couldn't happen. After giving it some thought, I decided to just bite the bullet and ask Victoria for help. She had office hours every night the week before the final. My schedule was busy, though, and the only time I could make it was 10 PM at the earliest. I was hoping that she'd still be there when I showed up.

So three days before the test, I finally went to her office. I expected a group of people to be there already, but when I got there, she was sitting alone at her desk, using the computer.

"Professor Sloan?" I said. "I was wondering if you had a few minutes to go over some concepts with me."

She sighed tiredly but nodded. "Sure."

I could tell she wasn't in a very good mood that night, probably because it was so late. Her explanations weren't very enlightening, no different from how they were in class. The truth is, she just wasn't a very good teacher. Still, I tried to stay calm. I kept asking her to repeat stuff, and after awhile, she got a little annoyed.

"Look, I've explained this as best as I can," she snapped. "If you don't understand it by now, then there's no hope for you."

By that time, I was frustrated, too, and without thinking, I replied, "Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult, then I'd get it."

"All right," she said. "I've already stayed here longer than I should have tonight, so please leave. I'm going home." She stood up and turned around.

After all of that, I still couldn't stop myself from staring at Victoria's backside as she bent over to grab her things. That day, she was wearing a white blouse and a gray skirt that stopped above her knees. I guess I enjoyed the view for a moment too long because she suddenly turned and looked at me.

"Were you staring at my ass?"

"Um..."

She glared. "You know what? Now I'm going to fail you for sure. Have fun taking this again next semester, pervert."

That was the last straw. I stood up, went to the door, and locked it. Then, I grabbed her roughly.

"Hey, what...?"

I slapped her. "You cock-teasing bitch. You know how much time I've spent stressing over this damn class? If I'm failing anyways, then I'm going to at least get something out of it." And I threw her down to the floor.

"No!" she cried out. "Somebody, help!"

I silenced her with another slap to the face. "Shut up, slut. No one can hear you because everyone's left the building by now. But if you make another sound, I'll hurt you for real."

Tears started to well up in her eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. I smiled with satisfaction and flipped her onto her stomach. Holding her neck down with one hand, I pulled her skirt up with the other, exposing her firm ass covered by a pair of white panties. With one yank, I ripped the panties off and tossed them aside. Then I took off my own pants. By this time, I was already rock hard and ready to go. I felt her pussy and was pleased to discover that she was actually getting wet.

"Wow, you are eager," I grinned. "Guess I shouldn't keep you waiting, then." And I quickly mounted her and pushed my dick inside her leaking cunt.

Victoria gasped when I bottomed out. Fuck, she felt so hot and wonderful around me. She didn't even put up a token protest; she just laid on the ground under me with her skirt bunched up around her waist and her legs spread wide in acceptance. I thrust slowly at first but soon started banging her harder and harder, the way I did in my fantasies.

"You like this, slut?" I asked.

She grunted noncommittally.

I yanked her head back by her hair. "What was that?"

"Y-yes," she whimpered. "I like it."

"Of course. And you really like it when your married cunt gets filled by a hard young cock, don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

Then, I thought of something. "Are you on the pill?"

"No. My husband always wears a condom."

"Good," I grinned. "Cause I'm going to cum in you."

Victoria moaned weakly and tried to buck me off of her, but in that position, with me lying on her back, there wasn't much she could do to get away. I grasped her hips firmly and moved faster as I built towards my release.

"Relax, sweetie. This is what you wanted. You love the thought of getting knocked up by one of your students and having his child."

"No," she said. "Please pull out. Please... Ugh! Ah!" She gasped loudly as her orgasm hit her by surprise.

Her love tunnel squeezed my cock nicely, and that sent me over the edge, as well. I came hard, pumping all of my potent seed into her helpless, unprotected pussy.

Afterwards, I collapsed on top of my used whore and lay there while I recovered. I knew that at that moment, my sperm were swimming towards her egg and on their way to making her a mother. That's always my favorite part of sex, really; I love getting women pregnant.

Anyways, I got dressed and gathered my stuff up. Victoria was still lying on the ground, exhausted. I imagined she was going to be quite sore for awhile after the pounding that I had given her.

"Thanks, Professor," I said. "You were a pretty good ride. But don't you tell anyone about this, or else I'll just say that you came onto me first, and your teaching career will be over." And I left and walked back to my dorm.

Three days later, I took the micro exam. I don't know how well I did, to be honest, but she gave me a C for the course, which I was happy about.

I was also happy about something else she did for me. During the following semester a few months later, Victoria and I passed each other as I walked to class. She didn't acknowledge me, but I noticed that there was now a prominent bump protruding from her previously flat belly.

For all of its downsides, being in school wasn't so bad after all.



Office Hours



Lisa had missed her history exam, getting caught up in a shoot at the studio with Sarah. She really needed to pass that class, though; it was her last semester and she didn't want to have to put off graduation for one course!

She had emailed Professor Richardson to ask if she could make it up, and gotten a short reply: "See me in my office hours tomorrow."

She was nervous about it; he was very stern in the classroom. But he hadn't rejected her request outright, so there was hope at least. She put on her nicest skirt and sweater, wanting to make a good impression.

Classes were over and the halls of the history building were mostly empty. She knocked on the professor's office door tentatively.

"Come in," he called out.

She opened the door and went in. Her professor was sitting behind his desk grading some papers. He looked up as she came in. His expression turned serious, but not unfriendly. He stood up and leaned on the desk, gesturing toward the small sofa in the office.

"Hello, Lisa," he said.

"Good afternoon, Professor," she said as she settled onto the couch.

"What are we going to do about this exam?" he wondered aloud.

"Well I thought maybe I could make it up," she began.

"It's not just one exam, Lisa," he said, stroking his goatee. "You have an attendance problem. How can we turn this around and make sure you take this course seriously?"

"Oh I'm very serious about it, Professor." She looked at him earnestly and clasped her hands together. "I need to pass this class; I'll make up time, do extra credit, anything!"

"I'm glad to hear that. I do want you to pass, and to learn. I think we need to start off with an appropriate punishment for your behavior first of all."

"Oh, well, okay," she said uncertainly, shifting on her seat. "What kind of punishment?"

"You don't worry about that," he said, now with a slightly satisfied smile. "You just do exactly as you are told, and I'll show you. Do a very good job, young lady, and don't ask any questions, and we just might be able to think of a way to save your grade. Think you can handle that?"

She swallowed nervously. "Yes, Professor."

"Good."

He unlatched his belt and slowly slid it out of its loops, watching her. She opened her mouth, but stopped herself from asking any of the questions that suddenly ran through her mind. Instead she lifted her chin and folded her hands in her lap and tried to wait like a good girl as he doubled it over in his hands and stroked the leather. Would he really? She couldn't believe it; maybe he was just testing her. But she was going to pass this class!

"Alright, stand up."

She was a little startled by the commanding tone of her professor's voice. He sounded like there was not the slightest doubt that he would be obeyed. And she realized that any doubt she had was quickly evaporating. She stood, smoothing her skirt against her legs.

"Come over here. That's right, up against my desk. Now bend over."

Lisa's heart was beating hard and fast. She felt his hand firmly on her back, pushing her down until the upper half of her body was laying flat on the desk. It was smooth and cool on her cheek where her head was resting, and a little rough where her fingers were gripping the edge, down by her hips.

"Legs straight," he said. She unbent her knees, raising her ass a few inches up off the desk, arching her lower back because he was still holding her body down against it's hard surface. "Good girl." She felt the leather belt brush against the backs of her thighs and suddenly, strangely, felt a rush of moisture in her panties. How could that be? She was so embarrassed, how could she be turned on?

The belt flipped her skirt up over her hips and then moved back down, over the thin fabric of her panties, then the bare skin of her thighs, and even slipped between her legs to lightly touch the sensitive skin there.

"Pull your panties down," said the professor. She hooked her fingers under the waistband and peeled them down over the cheeks of her ass, and the sticky wetness around her pussy. "All the way," he said.

She shimmied a little and they fell to the floor, pooling around her ankles. She felt excited and humiliated at the same time, waiting for her spanking. The first one came right across her ass with a loud crack, and made her yelp.

"You're doing well so far," he said, and Lisa felt his bare palm resting on her ass, gently rubbing where the belt had struck. She was so wet she could feel the slickness spreading under his hand, and knew he could feel it too. He pushed in a little, palm right against her pussy, as if to say, "Yes, I do feel how wet you are," and then took his hand away. "Just a few more. You may make some noise if you like."

The next one fell across the backs of her thighs, followed quickly by a stinging stripe across the upper half of her cheeks, and one right where cheeks met legs, which, in her current position, also treated her to a hot jolt of pain right across her swollen labia. It felt like it made a splash, spattering her moisture across her ass and legs with the impact, and she cried out in surprise, a warm sensation spreading over her. She realized her mouth was open and her breath was coming in quick pants.

"That's a very good girl," he said, again lightly rubbing where he struck, stroking the welts he had raised with the backs of his fingers.

"Thank you, Professor," she said breathlessly.

"Now you can help me with this part."

"What can I do?"

"Reach back and spread your ass cheeks apart for me."

She reached around and pulled, making a wet sound as the sticky skin separated, feeling her asshole stretch. The professor's knuckles lightly moved up and down her slit, sliding between her labia and against her clit and asshole. She could feel her juices starting to run down her inner thigh now. He slipped a finger inside her pussy, then another, moving them in and out, feeling her with his fingertips. She gasped and softly moaned, throbbing around his fingers, getting close.

But he pulled out and laid his fingertip lightly on her asshole and said, "No, I don't think you've earned that quite yet." 

He circled the tight ring with his slippery finger, and then pushed it slowly in, working her wetness into the hole, sliding out and back in. He scooped up more of her moisture with his other hand, rubbing it around, and worked a second finger into her ass, making her cry out again. She felt so stretched and full she could barely stand it; her pussy seemed to pulse and spasm, wanting attention he would not give. He was leaning on her a little and she could feel his erection pressing against her hip through his thin pants. She moved her hand to stroke it through the fabric, feeling it's shape and thickness.

"Please, Professor," she begged, "let me have your cock, please! I need it!"

He pulled his fingers out and smacked her, hard, on the pussy, causing an explosion of sharp sensation that shocked her. She gasped again, eyes rolling back in her head.

"You want cock, do you?" he asked.

She nodded against the hard desk, wetting her cheek in the little puddle of tears there. She hadn't even realized she was crying, the pain had been so strangely pleasurable. Her mascara must be all over her face.

"I'll give it to you, but you have to earn it. I need you to be my secretary now. You can stand up." The professor was walking around to a drawer. He handed her a slip of paper and gestured to the phone on his side table. "Phone my colleague for me. Just read from this."

She stood slowly, feeling smeared and disheveled, pussy dripping wet, and took the phone and dialed the number on the page.

"This is Dr. Smith," said a deep, unfamiliar voice.

"Hello Doctor," she said as professionally as she could manage. As she read down the script she felt her face getting hot and red. "I'm a student of Professor Richardson's. I've been very bad lately, and need to be disciplined."

"Oh, I see."

"The professor and I would appreciate your assistance with this matter."

"Well I can be there in a few minutes."

"Thank you very much," she whispered, looking at her professor with pleading eyes. He only smiled at her discomfort. "And round up a student or two if you can," she finished, hanging up the phone. She was absolutely dizzy with embarrassment, and arousal.

-----

Lisa opened the door for the professor's guests when the knock came. She had not been permitted to clean up or put on her panties, which still lay on the floor near the desk.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she said submissively. "May I take your coats?"

"Certainly," said Dr. Smith, a tall black man with a smooth shaved head and strong features. His smile was kind and genuine, but there was a hint of a devilish smirk there too. The young man with him stared at her with a look of intrigued bewilderment as he handed over a varsity jacket and watched her hang the garments in a small closet.

"This way," she said, leading them to the sofa. "Please have a seat."

"I'm sure my guests would like to see the progress we've made with your punishment so far, Lisa," said the professor, standing beside her as the newcomers got comfortable. He unbuttoned her skirt, which opened like a wrap, and lifted it off, leaving her completely naked below the navel. "Go ahead and turn around for them, young lady."

She turned slowly, knees trembling, not two feet from the men watching her. Her smooth pussy was glistening with wetness, swollen and throbbing, clit standing out prominently with arousal. On the other side she displayed an ass covered with raised red welts and hand prints. The younger one was staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

"Don't just stare, Jake," encouraged Dr. Smith. "Go ahead and touch her if you like."

"Yes, please," she said, bending over. "I am here for your enjoyment."

She felt hands, gingerly at first, then with increasing urgency, begin to explore her. The doctor's strong fingers felt along her inner thigh, lightly brushing up against her dripping labia. Jake cupped her ass cheek, and ran a hand up her hip. She let him turn her slightly and soon his fingertips were moving over her pussy, sliding between the lips and against her clit. She had to put her hands on her knees, and let out a soft moan as she rolled her hips to grind herself against their working hands.

"Let me get this a little more out of the way," said the professor, running his hands up her ribs, pushing her thin sweater up over the tops of her breasts. Her nipples were harder against his hands than she had ever felt them. She saw his cock straining under his pants and quickly reached out and unlatched them.

"Please, Professor," she begged.

"Okay, Lisa," he said, letting her pull the fabric down. "You've earned a little taste." He worked his fingers through her hair and seized a fistful of it, pulling her head back, and laid his cock on her face. It felt heavy and hot, and she could feel the slick pre-cum smearing over her closed eyelid and stinging the corner of her eye. He slapped her with it a few times, spattering her cheeks and forehead, and she opened her mouth with anticipation.

Behind her the other men were shuffling around and then she heard the click of a belt buckle, and felt a truly massive member slap wetly into the crack of her ass, and Dr. Smith's large hands gripping her hips as he slid up and down. She pushed back against him and let out a soft moan, which was quickly muffled as the professor filled her waiting mouth. He thrust deep into her throat, controlling her head with a firm grip on her hair. She could not believe how turned on she was at this treatment; she was shaking and on the verge of orgasm already. He pulled out and his cock was covered in sticky spit, with a thick strand still connecting it to someplace in the back of her throat until it stretched and broke, falling across her chin and breast.

She felt multiple pairs of hands lifting her up, holding her in the air, spreading her legs. Someone's mouth found it's way to her pussy, closing over her with a deep slurping sound, forming a seal and gently applying suction, large tongue pressing firmly into her opening and moving over her clit. After a second it was joined by another, kissing along the inside of her ass, moving in to lick her asshole. She started to orgasm, and it didn't stop; they kept their mouths on her, pushing farther inside, as she continued to quiver and spasm. If they hadn't been holding her up, she would have fallen to the floor; her muscles were useless. She was making sounds, getting louder by the second, and the professor held her chin with one hand and slid his cock back down her open throat, making her come even harder, crying out like a wild animal around the choking thrusts.

Her orgasm started to ease off as they released their mouth-holds on her, and she felt what had to be the other student's cock sliding into her pussy and fucking her eagerly. He made smacking sounds against her ass and shoved her face farther down the professor's throat-filling erection with the force of his movements.

"Take my spot, Frank," said the professor to Dr. Smith, pulling out, followed by a thick trail of saliva. She was handed off, and found herself face to face with the doctor's smooth, darkly glistening cock. His large hands held her effortlessly and she opened her mouth as wide as she could for him, nervous about his size. There was a great bead of pre-cum dripping down the head, hanging precariously, about to drop. He placed it gently on her tongue, moving it back and forth, smearing the liquid for her to taste.

"How's that, little girl?" he asked in his rumbling voice. "I can tell you like it."

She nodded, looking up at him, hungry for his cock. He pushed it in, down her throat but softer than the professor, and then back out to slap wetly against her face and forehead. She closed her lips on his balls, licking his sack, sucking hard enough to make an audible pop as he pulled out. "That's real good, darlin'," he said, putting the head of his penis back into her mouth, letting her move around it and lick the shaft. She tried to take him down her throat as far as she could, and struggled to reach his balls with her tongue while he was inside.

Behind her Jake slowed down for the professor, who was rubbing his spit-covered cock between her ass cheeks, pressing slowly against her asshole. Jake pulled part-way out, and she felt her hole begin to give in to the pressure, and then swallow the head of her professor's cock. He pulled out, and then pushed back in, farther this time, while Jake slowly fucked her pussy. They began to synchronize, Jake moving out as the professor pushed in, now with his entire length. She felt stretched and so full with both cocks in her, she was already about to orgasm again. She began to suck aggressively on the doctor's cock, moving her head up and down and stroking him with her hands as the other two picked up speed, fucking her hard and fast from behind.

Her body was humming, quivering with every muscle as she began to come again. Her holes tightened involuntarily and she began to buck and spasm against the cocks filling her, which was too much for Jake--she felt a warm burst of liquid fill her pussy, followed quickly by another warm spurt across her ass as he pulled out to finish. Hands rubbed it into her folds and crevices and she felt like she was riding an orgasmic wave that would not break, but just kept rising higher and higher, like a tsunami. She moaned around the doctor's cock and was rewarded with a thick, hot stream of semen flooding her mouth, then spilling down her face and neck, getting all over her sweater bunched up there. The cum continued, streaking across her cheek, followed by another heavy load that fell over one eye and onto her forehead.

She licked the pearly drips from his shaft, and smiled up at him as he used his cock to smear the cum on her face and push it into her mouth, while the professor continued to fuck her ass. She could finally feel the wave breaking, crashing down through her body, reaching climax and letting out a loud shriek just as he grunted and thrust all the way in, and she felt the wet explosion of his orgasm deep in her ass.

She felt herself being maneuvered onto the sofa and eased down as the men caught their breath. She lay on her back with one leg cocked half way up, and idly circled her fingers in a small pool of semen that had found its way onto her stomach, before bringing them up to softly smear her lips. The professor wiped his glasses for a moment, and then put a hand on her breast, rubbing slowly, spreading some of the cum around, before giving it a moist little smack and stepping back.

"You've done very well, young lady," he said with a smile. "I think we're well on our way to a solution for you. Why don't you come in to my office hours again next week and we'll hammer out all the details."

"I'd like that, Professor."