0 comments/ 76692 views/ 6 favorites Passing Grade By: CyberKitten221 Veronica and Victoria were identical twins. They were both 5 feet 6 inches tall with great bodies. They both wore their long auburn hair the same way – pulled back in a ponytail. Their eyes were the loveliest blue and they got lot of compliments on their looks and their personalities. They were not just very good looking but they were both very nice girls. They did average in school and went to the same college and had the same classes. They did well for their freshman and sophomore years but they both were struggling with their junior math class. They were both in Algebra II and it was not their best subject. The only good thing about their class was their professor. He was "hot". Professor Lucas Smitherson was their youngest professor and gorgeous. All the female students spent much of the class just staring at him daydreaming about things that have nothing to do with Algebra. Ronnie and Vickie were no exception. Their fantasies of Professor Smitherson was anything but mathematical. One day after class they waited for all the students to leave and they walked up to their professor. They were both doing badly in class and had an idea of how they may get a passing grade. After all what red-blooded American male didn't dream of having two women at once, and twins at that! Veronica walked to the door and shut it tight locking the doorknob as she did so. They were both wearing very provocative outfits and if they did their "job" right Professor Smitherson would soon find out that they weren't wearing any underwear. He watched the girls approaching his desk and though he was a "new" teacher, meaning he has only been teaching for about 5 years, he was pretty sure he knew what was on their minds. He was flattered because the twins, as they were referred to, were very good looking girls. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was attracted to them but he was their teacher and couldn't allow anything to happen, even if he wanted to. "Professor Smitherson, Ronnie and I have a proposition to make to you," Victoria stated plainly as they each go on one side of him. "You do?" "Yes, we do. You see we need to get a passing grade in this class and well it's just not going to happen unless we make a deal with you," Veronica answered. "What type of deal? There's not much I can do if you don't pass the tests and quizzes." "Well that may be but what would you think about having two very willing mistresses? We are very good in pleasing a man," Veronica said, as they both got closer to him. Victoria reached down and placed her hand upon his soft cock feeling it through his slacks. Lucas blushed and was completely taken back by their boldness and forwardness. He was expecting them to hint about sexual favors and all but to be so blatant about it was a shock. Despite his resolve to say no to them he could feel his cock hardening under the gentle touch. He knew this was going to be difficult to get out of. "Girls, I am very flattered but you are my students and well it wouldn't be right to allow any..." he stuttered as he backed away from them. "Professor, don't you find us attractive?" Victoria asked as she began unbuttoning her lilac satin blouse. Veronica, not to be left out, quickly followed her sister and began unbuttoning her pink satin blouse. They were not extremely large breasted but they were not small either. They had more then a handful but not a lot more. They never got any complaints before and the professor wasn't about to make any now. They breasts were covered with very sheer bras. They didn't leave anything to the imagination. "Girls, really you must not do this," Lucas protested. However, even to his own ears he didn't sound very sincere about wanting them to stop. "Maybe we can just give you a sample of what you'd get if you agree to our deal," Veronica said seductively. "Do you have a secret fantasy about watching two women together? Most men do and we are willing to bet you aren't any different," Victoria said as she walked over to her sister. "Would you like to see us together?" "Umm – I don't...." Lucas couldn't finish his statement because right there before his eyes Veronica slipped Victoria's blouse off her shoulder and her bra soon followed. He knew he shouldn't be watching this that he should turn and leave but something has him stuck to the floor. He couldn't turn his eyes away from the scene that was unfolding right before him. This was definitely most men's fantasy and having them be gorgeous identical twins was an added plus. Slowly Veronica lifted Victoria's right breast to her mouth and ran her tongue slowly around the nipple teasing it as it began hardening for her. Slowly she took it into her mouth and began sucking on it. Victoria arched her back and placed her hands on Veronica's head. After a minute or so Veronica switched breasts repeating the same process on the left one. It was too much for Lucas to watch. He could feel his manhood responding to this sexual display and his slacks were beginning to feel too tight. He shifted his feet trying hard to find a more comfortable position. Meanwhile, Veronica had began trailing her tongue downward passing her sister's belly button and stopping right at the waistline of her black miniskirt. She reached down and lifted the skirt upward exposing her sister's nicely trimmed love nest to their professor. She smiled at him knowingly and knelt between Victoria's legs. Victoria took the skirt hem from Veronica and held it up for her. Veronica began to part Victoria's legs and teasingly ran her finger through the little amount of pubic hair that was there. Victoria moaned softly in anticipation of what was next to cum. She opened her legs wider for Veronica. Veronica gently separated Victoria's love lips, leaned forward and gently ran her tongue over Victoria's hidden bud. Veronica licked Victoria's lips and clit as she slowly teased her and caused her clit to swell with passion. It was obvious to Lucas that the twins were used to playing together and that thought turned him on even more. Victoria's lips parted as she sighed with pleasure. Veronica was paying great attention to licking her just right and with her other hand playing with her ass and the entrance to her love nest. The sensations were building up slowly and when Veronica took Victoria's sensitive clit into her mouth and began gently sucking it Victoria moaned much louder. Her hands flew to Veronica's head, pushing it deeper between her legs. Her tongue wetting her lips causing them to shine making Lucas want to just lean over and kiss them. It wasn't much longer when Victoria was wet and hot and Veronica took this time to insert one then two of her fingers into her. She pushed upward and finding Victoria's G-spot she began to massage it slowly at first. She continued to lick her clit as she fingered her g-spot. This caused Victoria to really lose control. She was moaning loudly and couldn't stand still causing Veronica to finally lift her up onto Lucas' desk. Then she really got down to business, playing with Victoria's clit and fingering her feeling Victoria's orgasm build up. Soon she felt Victoria's pussy grip her fingers and Victoria's body tensed as she erupted right there in front of Lucas. He was so hard and all he wanted was to release his cock and cum right there with Victoria but he was still took overwhelmed to do even that. Veronica licked Victoria clean and then turned to look at Lucas. Seeing his hard-on she walked over to him and without asking permission she unzipped his slacks and pushed them down to his ankles. His underwear, white briefs, soon followed and there he was with his hard cock flying free and oozing pre-cum. He couldn't take his eyes off Veronica as she leaned forward and licked the tip clean. He inhaled his breath sharply and clenched his fists at his sides. "You ok, Professor?" Veronica asked innocently. "Uh huh," was all he could mutter. He knew he should tell her to back away and not allow what was going to happen next to happen but he just couldn't. He was even more surprised to see Victoria get off his desk and join her sister on her knees in front of his hard cock. While Veronica concentrated on the tip of his cock Victoria was kissing and licking his balls. The sensation of having two women paying attention to his manhood was more then he could have imagined. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he would actually have two women. This was so amazing and yet the knowledge that it was wrong was even more of a turn-on. "Ronnie, I think he likes having both of us playing with him," Victoria said as she stopped licking his balls for a second. "Uh huh" was Veronica's response as she was sucking the tip into her mouth and running her tongue around the hole. Lucas usually had good control but these two were really working him and he couldn't help but moan loud and a few "Oh damn" came out without any hesitation. Veronica took that as her cue to suck more into her mouth and Victoria began to let her finger trace from his balls to his to ass and began rubbing his ass to loosen him up. Lucas' body was not his own to control at this point and without realizing hit he was rocking back and forth. They were bringing him to the point of orgasm and then slacking off a little. When he was sure he was going to go insane from desire Veronica took him completely in her mouth and Victoria began massaging his asshole. This drove him wild and he began bucking and really groaning begging for release. Lucas was fighting with every fiber in his body to hold back and not cum yet for he didn't want the great sensations to end at the same time it was getting so strong and beginning to overpower him. He had never experienced this power from oral sex before and it was blowing his mind. The twins must have sensed the urgency because they increased their efforts and within seconds he was gripping their hair and cumming hard and fast into Veronica's mouth. She swallowed it all and licked him clean. Then they sat back and he sunk down to the floor between them. "Well, how was that for starts?" Veronica asked. All Lucas could do was smile. Boy this was going to be one interesting semester. Passing Grade "My arithmetic still needs improvement," I said, sliding my report card across the table to her, "but I'd like to think my printing is still worthy of your 'Excellent.' " Julia picked up the card, and as I studied her smile in the candlelight, it occurred to me that I was still her student even 25 years later, still eager to please. And that she was still absolutely beautiful. "My goodness... you kept this?" she said. "After all these years?" "It was my last good report card, Julia," I joked. "Why wouldn't I keep it?" The name "Julia" sounded strange on my lips. She was, and in many ways would forever be, Miss Russell. She had been my teacher in the second grade, and she was the first woman upon whom I had a hopeless, heart aching crush. As I watched her study my report card, I thought about many things. I was still in her classroom, sitting at a tiny desk with an inkwell, and I could still see her precise schoolteacher's hand on the blackboard, above which was every letter of the alphabet in careful script. Each letter was a model of textbook penmanship. I could still hear the squeak of the chalk, and smell the paste we made from flour and water, the chunky slop that made even a small exercise book six inches thick. I could still see the mountains of paper on her desk, and I could still smell her perfume, the delicate scent I could swear she wore even today. I could remember first walking into Miss Russell's class that September morning, and then feeling dry in the throat for a full school year. Of course, this wasn't like the crush I would have on Mrs. Crawford in the eighth grade, when an adolescent boy was trying to sort out all kinds of confusing messages being cross wired by his body and his brain. But this was every bit as magical, and even more so. As a left-hander, I struggled with my printing, forever dragging my wrist through the ink of my cartridge pen, making an unholy mess of every sentence I tried. But Miss Russell was also left-handed, and she taught me a trick or two, taking my hand in hers, showing me how to angle the pen away from the wet ink. I did all the silly things a smitten schoolboy does, volunteering to clean the blackboard erasers, tidy up the classroom. More than one day, I was still in the recess yard when she left for the day, not by accident, and I would make it a point to wave goodbye. To her, I was, and I remain, Andrew. Never the abbreviated Andy, never Drew, which I heard from my friends. Strangely, I felt like a grownup around her. "Now that I think about it, Andrew, I remember you had trouble concentrating in arithmetic class." Julia's voice brought me back from my daydreams, and I smiled at her recollection. "Thank heaven for calculators, Julia," I replied. "I manage my taxes fine, but just don't ask me to decipher the Pythagorean theorem." We laughed together, and I poured another glass of Beaujolais for us both. I passed the second grade that year and moved on to the third, transferred to a new school closer to my home. I saw Julia seldom in the years that followed. With the attention span of a typical youngster, there were other things in my life. She was soon just a signature on a report card. But through the years, I've often thought about her, lately more than ever. I still drive past that grade school a couple of times a week, and I have a few black and white photographs of her at her desk. I've even been back in the school's corridors when the building has been used as a polling station for municipal elections. Twice, I have gone back into room 3D; twice, I could still see Julia at her desk, at her blackboard. The desks with inkwells are gone, replaced by computer stations. I went on to a good career in writing, living within the shadow of that school, and once in a blue moon I'd find that second-grade report card in my files. I'd laugh about my strong marks in penmanship (but only in the final term), and my weakness in arithmetic. Even then, Julia saw me headed for the creative arts, not the sciences. And now, here we were, in the elegant dining room of a downtown hotel, 25 years after I left her class. I am looking at her, and surely she sees it in my eyes: I still have a crush on this lovely woman. A damp-palmed, short-of-breath, butterflies-in-the-stomach crush. It's almost incredible how we have reconnected. Much of my published work is online in various forms, feature stories and profiles written for magazines, newspapers and books in a half-dozen countries. I received an e-mail a year ago from a kind woman in New Zealand, named Julia according to her return address, telling me she had been touched by one of my stories. She closed with, "It's funny to think that I taught a boy in school many years ago who had the same name as you." It took just one exchange of e-mails, and digging into my files to find my second-grade report card, to realize that this Julia was in fact MY Julia. Small world, indeed, and soon we were writing each other twice or three times a month, marking birthdays, sharing stories of the past and present. She had taken early retirement and moved to Auckland, where she had married and divorced. But with friends and family still in Canada and no children to keep in school, she told me she came home every few years for an extended visit. Since our mutual rediscovery, we had arranged to meet on her next visit, and I made dinner reservations at the Ritz, a marvellous dining room in the city's best hotel. No longer was I eight years old. I was 33. She was 54. I met Julia in the lobby, and my heart nearly stopped when I saw her drift toward me, the cotton dress of muted pastels billowing gently around her summer-bare legs. She was every bit as graceful as I remembered her from the second grade. I kissed her on both cheeks and hugged her tight. Gone were her horn-rimmed glasses in my pictures. She was fuller than the teacher I recalled and I loved how she looked and felt, pleasantly soft to my touch, womanly at the hips. Her hair was shoulder-length, a tousled, honey blonde. Once more, my mouth was dry. So many years, so much water under the bridge. We were tucked away in a cozy corner of the restaurant as I had requested, in flickering candlelight, and we sipped our wine and ate our meals almost in slow motion. It was over coffee and dessert that I showed Julia my report card. She was touched that it has meant so much to me over the years, and when she slid it back across to me, our fingers met, and she placed hers over mine, patting them. "How wonderful to find you again after all these years," she said, not removing her hand, and the fire I felt was my blushing or the wine or a returning crush that was was nearly overcoming me. All through dinner, I kept trying to push the impure thoughts out of my mind. This was a quiet, casual meeting, and it was a beautiful coincidence that we had found each other after three decades. She had been my teacher, and I had been just one of her hundreds of former students. I was 21 years her junior, even if she looked 10 years younger than she was. She had a full, rewarding life half a world away, so who was I to read more into this than what she must be feeling? Now we were in the hotel bar, sipping our second cognac, sitting on a small sofa, and none of that mattered. I had been trying to find the words to tell her what this evening meant to me. But when the words wouldn't come, I reached out and took her hand in both of mine. Julia looked at me and said nothing. But she smiled, and she returned my squeeze. "What time are you expected home?" I asked, feeling protective and foolish at the same time. She laughed. "I'm a big girl, Andrew. My father won't be waiting up." I cleared my throat, swirled my snifter in my hand, took another sip and shifted to face her, every ounce of courage in my body needed for what I'd say next. "Julia ... what if you don't go home?" She blinked wordlessly, and the few seconds of silence between us felt like a lifetime. Then: "Andrew," she said steadily, still holding my hand, "I would be delighted not to go home." I leaned in to her and kissed her gently on her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin on my lips. "Come," I said, getting to my feet. We were the last ones in the bar on this weeknight at 1 a.m., and I suppose the bartender was happy to see us take our leave. I paid the check, tipping him generously for his discretion, and took Julia by the hand out into the quiet lobby. There was one female clerk behind the check-in counter, the only noise being a janitor buffing the marble floor. I checked us in to a room on the 22nd floor. This was better than going back to my home, no matter that it was only a half-hour's drive away. This hotel was charming, old world, utterly romantic, and it added to the magic that here was where Julia and I would get to know each more intimately than a student knows his teacher. I took her in my arms in the elevator and hugged her, then reached up and held her face in my hands. Finally, in this light, I saw her as I so badly needed to, rubbing her cheeks with my thumbs as I absorbed her completely. Julia's wide, expressive eyes saw right through me, as they had 30 years ago when I wasn't paying attention in class. There was something quite wonderful and womanly about the fine lines at their corners, a softness and a kindness in the smile that she had worn all her life. We said little now; how to relate the swirl of emotions we both were feeling? I was still carressing Julia's face when the elevator stopped on the 22nd floor and the brass doors opened to a silent, carpeted hallway. Within a moment we were inside our room, a large, antique-furnished suite with a king-size bed, enormous bathroom with a huge tub, a thick sofa, two wingbacks and a magnificent view of the city below. Together we looked at the skyline through the sheer curtains, and then I turned to face Julia. "We're out late on a school night, Miss Russell," I said, and her face lit up. "Well," she replied, "if you don't tell my parents, I won't tell yours." I laughed, and then I kissed her, softly and tenderly, tasting her warm lips on mine for the first time. It was almost surreal, and yet it was the most real sensation I might have ever felt. We kissed for a long minute, and I didn't ever want to let her go. "Excuse me a minute?" Julia said, then slipped around me and disappeared into the bathroom. I'd been looking into the city lights for a few minutes, my head swimming. And now, having dimmed the room but for one small corner lamp, I heard the click of the bathroom door. I turned slowly and when I saw her, I thought my knees were going to buckle. Julia was wearing a burgundy silk, spaghetti-strap slip, scooped low enough to reveal her lovely cleavage and the hint of a bra, and a matching pair of silk shorts, almost like boxers. She was barefoot. In this light, the burgundy contrasted to her pale skin from the New Zealand winter and her honey-blonde hair that hung layered at her shoulders. I was thunderstruck. "Oh, my," I managed weakly, taking two steps toward her. She looked to the floor, her timid side showing for the first time on this evening, until I took her chin in my hand and lifted it up, again kissing her. "You're a vision, Julia. I can't put you into words." "That's quite a predicament for someone who writes for a living," she said lightly, breaking a tension we both felt. I had already shrugged out of my suit jacket and slipped out of my shoes and socks, and now we moved toward the bed which I had turned down while she was freshening up. Now I was certain: Julia's perfume, which I now had on my hands, was the same fragrance she wore 25 years ago. I settled her onto the edge of the bed and lifted her legs off the floor, sliding her up until her head was on a thick pillow and she was comfortably reclined. I was in no hurry, nor was Julia. I wanted to savor every moment with her, and I looked at her as I removed my French cuffs, silk tie and wool trousers, then slipped up onto the bed and moved atop her, easing myself down so she would feel just a little of my weight, supported by my arms. I was wearing only hunter green silk boxers. "Andrew, I don't know what to say to you," Julia began, almost in a whisper. "You know I'm old enough..." "Shhh," I said, pressing a finger to her lips. "Not one word." I lowered myself a little more and kissed her again, this time our mouths parting slightly, our tongues slipping through each other's lips. I'm sure she felt my passion in more than one way; part of it was making itself known in a swelling below my waist, now pressing into the heat of her loins. I reached to Julia's shoulders and carefully slid the spaghetti straps down and off her delicate arms, her slip now gathered in a wrap around the softness of her stomach. With that I looked down, and I inhaled sharply at the view she presented. She was wearing an exquisite demi-bra, a lacy silk that was cut low across her breasts and came within a fraction of an inch of revealing her nipples, clear to me as they pushed up into the fabric. I lowered my head slowly and burrowed my face in her warm cleavage, feeling her bosom rise and fall quickly, then turned my head to her left breast and cupped it in my hand. She was trembling. I had never felt a greater caring of a woman in my life. I wanted to treat her like a queen, make her blissfully happy. Her pleasure now was the absolute center of my universe. "Julia, you are beautiful, so very, very beautiful," I kept murmuring, still feebly looking for words. With that I dipped my fingers beneath the fringe of her bra and pulled it down with great care, baring her left breast almost fully. Her areola was a dusty rose, generous of size, swollen and contracted even in the heat of this room. I leaned down and traced my tongue around it in two long, slow, lazy circles, then moved across its puckered plain to lick the nipple and suck it tenderly into my mouth. Julia's soft moans encouraged me and aroused me further. With a twist of my thumb and forefinger, I opened her front-clasped bra and peeled it away, exposing her bosom completely, and I suckled her from left to right and back, feathering kisses to her collarbone and her neck, up to her lips and back down, brushing back the hair which fell around her. I reached behind Julia and lifted her slip over her head, dropping it with her bra on the far side of the bed. I could feel the astonishing heat radiating from her midriff as I kissed the soft skin on the bottom curve of her breasts, then down her ribs, across her stomach and to her navel, her internal organs each raging like small furnaces. We lay very still for a moment, and I listened to her pounding heart. Mine surely was keeping time with hers, and I swallowed hard before I spoke again. "I want these, Julia," I whispered to her, and she felt my hands at the waistband of her silky shorts. She lifted her hips very slightly off the bed and I gently eased them down, over her hips and down her thighs to her ankles, slipping them off altogether. I had been with women almost one-third of Julia's age, and not one could compare to the natural beauty that was laying before me now. I kissed her right knee and moved up her thigh, nibbling and licking as I moved inside to her softest skin, her legs parting slowly at my gentle insistence. By now I was laying directly between Julia's legs, and with each breath I was intoxicated by her faint womanly fragrance. Her pussy was moist and shimmering, even in this light, her sparse blonde hair neatly trimmed and shaved around the tender folds that were prominently exposed with a dewy wetness. I wanted to taste her more than anything I've ever wanted in my life, and I eased my tongue gingerly the length of a velvet-soft crease which curled at and hugged my touch. Julia was liquid honey, and I had the urge to devour her whole. She was giving herself to me completely, an ultimate trust, laying back, her eyes closed, her body mine to enjoy as I wished. My only wish was to please her, and I kissed and licked and nipped at her in a way that was selfish, too. She was responsive to my touch, and to her own; she was kneading her breasts as I tended to her elsewhere, pinching her nipples which were magnificently erect. Julia was nearing her most intimate pleasure, reaching down and taking my head in her hands, guiding me, coaching me, taking me where she needed me. Her clitoris was like a tiny, hard penis, exposing itself to me, begging to be suckled. It was between my lips, at the tip of my tongue, when she shuddered and cried out softly, her thighs closing tight on my head. I persisted, and she lifted a little off the bed and dropped back down, her body trembling. I held and stroked and soothed her as her orgasm crested and yielded to the aftershocks that were rolling through her, then crawled back up and lay atop her, kissing her eyelashes. She was stroking my lightly whiskered jaw, whimpering, then softly sobbing. I hugged her tight to me, wanting to comfort her, to hold her and fuss over her and pay loving attention to her. This was the most natural thing in the world, holding this woman close, kissing her forehead, her cheekbones. Again, her bosom was a magnet for me, and I nuzzled into her, licking at her nipples. She rolled onto her stomach, stretching like a cat, and showed me her lovely creamy-white behind. I lay atop her like this for an hour, my cock laying full in the valley between her cheeks. "Andrew," she finally said to me, stirring to life, her spirits brightening, tumbling me off as she turned onto a side. "You are overdressed." I laughed at the thought. I had been in no hurry to leave her side for an instant, even to slip out of my boxers. I slid off the bed and made a motion to remove my shorts, but Julia stopped me. "C'mere," she said playfully. She was feeling bolder, more confident about herself, and as I stepped to the side of the bed, she reached forward and undid the two buttons, reaching inside. "So this is what you've been hiding from your teacher," she scolded me playfully. "You'll be staying after class today, young man." Julia withdrew her hand from the open fly of my boxers, and in it she held my cock, which was engorged and full and harder than I think I'd been since I was a teenager. She pulled me nearer, slipped my shorts down my legs and coaxed me back onto the bed, rubbing her hand up my shaft and back down. In a short moment I was between her legs again, my hand joining hers to guide my hardness. Romantic, even old-fashioned lovemaking. So perfect. I felt the heat of Julia's sex even before my cock touched it, then nuzzled the head to her lips. Her legs were wrapped around my lower back, her heels drumming softly on the base of my spine, as I pushed gently, my shaft parting her lips and sliding into her moist body. The penetration was complete, and it was heavenly. We were still, and then we began to move together, slowly. This is the way two bodies are meant to couple, I thought: our rhythm and fit and sense of pace and need was exquisitely in tune. Julia lifted her hips to meet my thrusts, the quiet of the room punctuated by her moans, by mine, and by the fluid sounds of our bodies joining in the most delicious way. Her nails were lightly raking my back when I felt the familiar, undeniable pressure start to build deep inside me, and my more forceful thrusts signalled to her that my end was near. Julia's hands dug into my behind and pulled me in harder, closer. I looked down to her and saw her head back, eyes closed, a look of deep pleasure on her face, and that was what sent me over the edge. I came in an unfathomable fury, throbbing deep into the woman who had stolen my heart on this night, and many years earlier. Passing Grade She fell asleep in my arms, and when I awoke with the hint of morning peeking through the curtains, I lay absolutely still, relishing her heat and her scent. I wore a smile and nothing else, and when Julia finally stirred, snuggling close, I pulled her atop me and smothered her with an affection I couldn't contain. I suckled at her breasts; again, she was nurturing me. Julia was leaving town with a childhood friend that afternoon, touring far and wide as part of her visit, then flying back to New Zealand from another city. But first we made love again, slowly and passionately, then shared a leisurely room-service breakfast, wearing the thick terry hotel robes that hung in the closet. I bathed with her, brushed her hair, watched her reapply her makeup. I held her in my arms for a long time before she drove away that day. I wept for her that afternoon, and I have been holding her in my heart ever since. She's coming back for a visit this autumn, her first since that incredible trip, but her itinerary will not be nearly as full. Julia and I are going back to the Ritz for dinner, and I've reserved the same table. But this time she is staying with me, and I don't intend to let this truly special woman, my beautiful teacher of then and now, out of my sight or out of my arms. Passing Grade "Gentlemen," the commanding voice came from behind them just as they reached the door to the hallway. Turning, they looked at their professor. He motioned them back into the room. "Close the door." They did as they were told and then approached his desk. He sat behind it, his fingers steepled in front of his face as his blue eyes regarded them. No emotion crossed his face. "Sit down," he said. Once they were seated, he continued. "I won't beat around the bush. You're both failing this class miserably. What are we going to do about that?" "Um, extra study?" the first one answered, shifting in his seat. "It is possible," the professor mused. "But you would have to study twenty four hours a day to catch up with the rest of the class Michael. What about you Darren? Do you have any ideas on how to pass my class?" "No sir," came the low answer. "Is there anything we can do?" Michael asked almost desperately. He had to pass all his classes to remain quarterback. Darren had to do the same to remain center. "How much do you want to graduate college?" the professor asked, one eyebrow rising slowly. "Are you willing to do anything? Anything at all?" Michael shifted in his seat, not at all sure the hardening of his cock was appropriate at that point in time. There was just something about the professor that made him hard. It was disconcerting to say the least, especially when he had hot sweaty dreams of his professor fucking him. He turned to Darren and the other man nodded. They WOULD do anything to pass this class. "Darren go lock the door," the professor commanded. Then he waited silently as the young man complied with his wishes. Soon he had them before him again. He looked from one to the other. Football players, they were his weakness. It was the thought of those strong muscles shifting beneath their skin. It was seeing their firm asses encased in tight pants, bent over as if begging to be fucked hard. "I am going to offer you a deal," he said as he continued to watch them, his cock stiffening in his pants at the very idea of what he would make them do to earn their grades. "It is just between us and not to be discussed with anyone else. Is this agreed?" "Agreed," Michael said quickly for both of them. "You both have two free blocks after my class every day," the professor began. "Each day, starting today, you will remain behind. If anyone asks, I am providing additional instruction to help you obtain a higher grade." "Ok." "For those two hours, you will be mine." the professor purred. "You will do whatever I say and you will offer up your asses to my cock whenever I wish. If I tell you to suck each other off, you will do it. If I tell you to shove your cock up Darren's ass while he takes mine down his throat, you will do it. Is that clear?" Michael gulped as his cock jumped to attention. He turned to look at Darren and saw his roommate's eyes darken with lust. He saw Darren nod slightly and then he turned back to face the professor. "Agreed," he said huskily. "Good," the professor smiled. "Now remove all your clothing save your jackets. It pleases me to fuck you with them on." He practically purred as they complied. Smooth hot skin was revealed to his hungry gaze. He noted how hard their nipples were. He caught the blush that stained their skin as they pulled off their pants and underwear to reveal hard cocks. It pleased him. "Take your seat, Darren, and move it closer to my desk. Right up front," he commanded. Once the young man had complied, he continued. "You will sit in that chair and you will watch everything that happens. You will not touch your cock until I say so." Darren nodded as he took his seat. His cock bobbed in front of him, curving up toward his belly. His nipples were tight little peaks and the professor ached to pinch them, make some sound of pleasure slip from those silent lips. That could wait, however. Michael would be the first. "Come here Michael," he ordered. "Stand in front of me, facing the desk and your friend. Do not speak unless I tell you to." Michael swallowed hard as he walked toward the front of the desk. He felt exposed even though he still wore his jacket. His cock bobbed as he walked and when he looked down, he could see the very tip glistening with precum. He moved to stand in front of the professor and faced the desk. His ass was now right at eye level with his teacher. He felt both vulnerable and excited. "Bend over and spread your legs wider," the professor commanded, his hand dancing lightly down Michael's skin. Immediately the quarterback complied. He wanted it, the professor could tell. Such a tight ass he had. It begged to be plundered. It begged to have his cock ramming it hard and fast until he filled him with his cum. Slowly he stroked Michael's ass, caressing it. He used his thumbs to part his firm cheeks, revealing the tight rosebud of his anus. With a gentle finger, he circled that opening, pressing every so often. "Michael," The professor said. "I want you to tell Darren everything you feel me doing to you. I want you to describe it to him as I do it. I want you to tell him how good it feels." "He's... circling my anus with his finger. It... feels...um good," Michael began. He heard the sound of a drawer opening and then something cool touched his skin. "It's cool and slick, his finger. He's pressing it into my ass slowly. I can feel it sliding in. It feels... god, so good but tight. His other hand is stroking my balls, cupping them, rolling them back and forth. My cock is so hard and its dripping. It feels... ahhh." "That's it Michael," the professor purred as he prepared him. He pulled his finger out to apply more lube and then pressed two inside the tight hole. "Oh god, another... he's got," Michael panted as he was stretched. "Two... he's just pressed two fingers into my ass. I feel... stretched. I can't help it... I want it.... I want more. My cock is throbbing and hard." Darren moaned softly as he watched. His cock ached and his hand twitched as he tried to keep from wrapping his fingers around his throbbing shaft and jerking off. But the professor had said to wait until he was told he could. The sight was intensely arousing, Michael bent over the desk with the professor finger fucking his ass. He could see Mike's cock twitching and leaking precum onto the dark wood. Desire hummed through the professor's body as he wrapped his free hand around Michael's cock. Another dip into the lube and he pushed three fingers steadily into the tight opening. Michael was almost ready. Just a hook of the fingers and... "Oh my fucking god," Michael groaned, letting his head fall down to the desk as pleasure shot through his body. "I don't know what he did but it feels fucking incredible. I'm shaking with it." Slowly the professor rose to stand behind Michael. He parted his robes and unzipped his pants, letting his long cock slide free. He tapped it against his quivering anus, teasing the opening and making Michael groan louder. Looking up he watched Darren. The young man's hands were twitching. He wanted to jerk off badly. "You may play with your nipples Darren," the professor said. "Nothing more. Twist them. Pinch them. Feel how they tingle and send electric bolts straight to your cock. But keep your eyes on Michael. Watch him. Watch his face." Darren simply nodded. His hands quickly moved to his own chest. He tweaked his nipples, pinching them and rolling them between his fingertips. The professor was right. Shards of pleasure shot straight to his groin. His eyes never left Michael's face. It was flushed with desire. His mouth hung open and his tongue would snake out to lick his lips. An image of that mouth around his cock shot through Darren's brain and he groaned. "His cock," Michael moaned. "He's cock is teasing around my ass. He's tapping it against my anus and it makes me quiver. Every nerve seems like its burning. There it is. Oh god, he's pushing his cock inside me. It's hard, so very hard. He's filling me. He seems so huge, so thick. I've never, but it feels so good. I can't. His cock is up my ass, Darren. He shoved his cock up my ass and it feels so incredible." "Tell him more Michael," the professor encouraged through gritted teeth. His cock was enveloped in tight hot heat. Michael's internal muscles gripped him and it felt amazing. He knew fucking these two would be so good. Slowly he pulled out and then thrust forward again, rocking Michael against the desk. "He's.. Ah... he's moving now, thrusting into me. He's filling me with his cock again and again. His hand is stroking my dick. He's pushing me into it. I'm gonna cum on his desk with his cock up my ass. He's going to fill me with his load. He's fucking my ass Darren. Slow and steady, he's fucking me." The professor set a smooth pace, angling his cock to hit Michael's prostate. Each time it made the young man stutter and the professor smiled. He raised his eyes to Darren, sitting in the chair. His cock was leaking steadily and it dripped down, sliding over his shaft and making it glisten. Eager hands rapidly pinched and twisted his nipples as Darren sought more pleasure. "Stand up Darren," the professor commanded huskily. "Stand right in front of Michael. See how close his mouth is to your cock?" "Yes," Darren moaned as his dick bobbed only a centimeter away from Michael's lips. "Open your mouth Michael," the professor ordered. "Open it wide and relax your throat. That's a good boy. Darren, move closer. Slide your cock into his mouth. Just right. His mouth is hot, isn't it? It is wet and slick around you. Fuck his mouth Darren, fuck it slowly. Thrust at the same time I do. He's going to give great head." Darren moved in time to the professor's thrusts. Each time the head of his cock hit the back of Michael's throat. Then Michael would swallow and his muscles would grip Darren, making him moan louder and louder. Michael did give great head and he was close to cumming. "Not yet Darren," the professor commanded. "Do not cum. We're going to fill him at the same time. He's going to drink your cum, swallow it down that lovely throat and I'm going to fill his ass." Michael's whole body quivered. Pleasure raced through him as the professor's cock shoved deep into his ass, pushing him forward onto Darren's cock. His roommate tasted musky but it was a good flavor. He never knew he would like sucking someone off while he got his ass totally reamed. Moans worked their way out of his mouth around Darren's cock. Those hands that had snapped him the ball on ore than one occasion now buried in his hair. Darren, his best friend, fucked his face with abandon. The professor gritted his teeth. Watching Darren while he shoved into Michael's ass again and again was sending him into a bit of an overload. He could feel his balls tightening, knew he was about to shoot his seed deep into his sweet ass. "Just a few more moments Darren," the professor purred. He held the image of them in his mind as he let go. "Now Darren. Come for me." A low moan stole from between Darren's lips as he let go, filling Michael's mouth with his cum. He growled at the rapid swallowing that followed, his body quivering and thrusting erratically. The professor moaned. The timing wasn't perfect but there would be more opportunities. Once Darren finished, he wrapped his arm around Michael's waist and sat back in his chair, driving his cock deeper into the young man's ass. He hooked Michael's legs over the arms of the chair and lifted him, giving himself enough room to thrust. "On your knees before us Darren," he commanded as he moved steadily. "Suck him. I'm going to fuck your mouth with him." Darren hurried around the desk, dropping to his knees and taking Michael deep. His roommate groaned loudly at the dual sensations. Then there was nothing but the pumping of his cock in his mouth. The professor thrust faster and faster, hitting Michael's prostate repeatedly. He was so close, so close to filling that sweet ass with his come. But he had to see. Leaning slightly, he watched as each of his movements pushed Michael's cock into Darren's mouth. It was perfect, beautiful. "Yes, such a sweet ass you have Michael," he said. "I'm going to enjoy fucking you, making you take my cum. Take it now, hard and fast, I'm going to fill your ass with it." Michael moaned as the professor's hips jerked erratically. He felt the hot pulse of seed in his ass and it was too much. He let out a long low groan as his ass was pumped full of seed and his cock jerked inside Darren's mouth. Too much, it was too much. His body exploded and his cum hit the back of Darren's throat. Each pulse matched the thrust of the professor's cock up his ass. Then they collapsed. Their breathing was heavy, puffing out of their mouths in shallow pants. Sweat glistened over their skin. Slowly the professor lifted Michael, bending him once more over the desk. "Come here Darren," he purred as he stroked his fingers over the glistening opening. He waited for the younger man to rise and look. "See how his ass shines with my cum? How it quivers each time my finger even comes close to it? That is how it will be with both of you until the end of the third semester. You will let me fuck you at any time. You will take my cock in your mouths and drink my cum. You will feel my cock sliding in and out of your asses, making you moan and writhe with the pleasure of it. That is what you will do for a passing grade." Passing Grade Tor sat nervously in the back of the classroom as Mr. Wilks passed back the exams. Calculus—last class of the day and her least favorite. Anything lower than a C and she would not pass the class or be allowed to graduate with her friends. Last weekend she had celebrated her 18th birthday and neglected to study. Though she tried not to betray her anxiousness, her fingers were constantly twirling her long brown hair. Mr. Wilks finally got to her desk. He stopped. Tor titled her head back so their eyes met. His grey eyes were hard and unforgiving as he slid the exam onto the desk in front of her. Without saying a word he moved on. Taking a deep breath, Tor flipped over the exam. A D. Oh no, she thought. In despair she buried her head in her arms. The rest of class passed in a blur. Finally the bell rang. Tor waited for everyone else to leave before approaching Mr. Wilks' desk. For a long moment she stood in the empty classroom trying to think of the right words to beg for a passing grade. Eventually he raised his head from the paper he was reading and looked at her. His eyes bored into her. "Sir, I need... Please, I really need to pass!" Tor wailed in desperation. "And how do you plan to do that? You just failed another exam." His voice was soft and empty. "I don't know! I'll do anything, sir! Anything!" She clutched her hands and begged. The motion unconsciously pushed her young breasts together and out. Mr. Wilks let his eyes wander up and down Tor's body. She was too involved in her plea to notice. He had always wanted to feel how tight these young girls were. This was his chance. "Well..." He drawled in that soft voice. "I think we can come to an arrangement." Tor's brown eyes grew wide in excitement and hope. "Oh, anything, Mr. Wilks!" He swirled in his chair and stood. Walking casually to the door he managed to lock it quietly. Tor watched him silently, thinking he needed to walk to make a decision. Mr. Wilks stopped abruptly in front of her. She tilted her head back to look up into his cold grey eyes. In a flash, Mr. Wilks caught her chin, pulling her forward into a rough kiss. Tor tried to fight back. She dug her nails into his arm hoping to draw blood. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, twining insistently with hers. Mr. Wilk stepped back. A tiny grin was on his face. "Do you know what I want?" Tor shook her head still reeling from the unexpected kiss. None of the boys she had dated had ever kissed like that. Mr. Wilk moved closer and Tor backed away, until she ran into a sturdy desk. He stepped close and gently ran his finger down the front of her shirt lingering on her breasts. "You will be my toy for the last two weeks of school." His smile was cruel. Fear crept into Tor's gut making her shiver. She had let no boy do more than a light grope. Tor started to shake her head but Mr. Wilks did not let her finish. He grabbed her head with one hand and pulled her back into the rough kiss. The other began undoing the buttons the front of her shirt. Tor fought but could not escape his iron grip. Still using one hand he managed to unhook her bra, causing it fall of her shoulders. Her young breasts jiggled freely as she tried wiggle out of his grasp. Tor did not want this! She felt his hand grasping her breast and squeezing roughly. Despite her panic a little tingle went through her body. He released her from the kiss but managed to catch one arm behind her back and twisted. "Calm down." His voice was soft as usual but there was a strange tone in it. Tor froze. A hand lifted the edge of her skirt, pushing it up high, and tugged aside the thong she was wearing. Tears started running down her cheeks as Mr. Wilks slipped a finger inside her. "Hmm." He looked into her eyes. "Your not wet." Tor was not sure what he meant. "O well, I'm in a hurry today." Tor tried to plead for freedom one more time. "Sir, please stop! I'm a virgin!" This seemed to have the opposite effect. Excitement lit up his cold grey eyes. "Well, I am going to change that." He rubbed his crotch against her and Tor sobbed at the hard bulge stroking her leg. Keeping Tor pinned Mr. Wilks carefully unzipped his pants, let them fall, and pushed down his boxers. His 8 inch cock sprung free, hard and ready. "Look down little girl," he leered. Tor gasped at the sight and began to struggle again ignoring the pain in her arm. Mr. Wilks scooted her onto the desk and caught both her hands. "I thought you wanted to pass?" A sly grin on his face. Pinning her hands above her head, he lowered his and started sucking on one her jiggling breasts while forcing her legs apart. More tingles ran through her body as he sucked and tugged. A surprised moan escaped Tor. Mr. Wilks guided his cock towards her cunt and began to push. Pain started as soon as he began pushing. Tor tried to squirm out of the way. It was too big! "Please stop!" she whispered. Mr. Wilks kept pushing. He kept sucking on her breasts, his teeth pulling at her nipples. Shivers ran through her body that helped lessen the pain between her legs. Tor could feel his cock pulsing as he slowly kept pushing himself in. She couldn't decide if she still wanted him to stop. Mr. Wilks paused once he was halfway in giving her a few seconds to adjust, then he pulled out until only the tip was still in her cunt. He used his finger to tug at her hardening clit. Tor gave a low moan and lifted her hips a little. Mr. Wilks slammed into her, breaking through her virginity. Tor gasped at the pain, tears rolling down her cheeks. It took all his control to pause and let her adjust, while stroking her clit. As the discomfort subsided Tor realized she had never felt so full before. Her fingers were nothing compared to this. She could feel him begin to move within her. The back and forth rhythm seemed to touch a spot deep within her. A touch of horror made her sick when Tor realized her body was beginning to enjoy this. Warmth started to spread up her stomach and her hips began to lift to meet his thrusts. Sensing her change, Mr. Wilks released her hands and focused again on her breasts. He sucked and pulled with his teeth while keeping a steady rhythm between her legs. Soon Tor was panting for release. She wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer and deeper. Mr. Wilks felt his climax coming closer. He focused on pounding the young pussy with all his might. Tor placed her own hands on her breasts to continue pulling and kneading. Suddenly the warmth overtook her body and she arched her back in pleasure. When Mr. Wilks felt her walls ripple and suck at his cock, he could take it no longer. With a low growl, he released his seed deep within Tor's cunt. Tor loved the feel of his seed spurting against her insides. She felt full and satisfied. It didn't matter anymore that she hadn't been willing in the beginning. Mr. Wilks gave her a predatory grin. "I think this arrangement will work out nicely," he said. Unhooking Tor's legs, he stepped away letting his softening dick slip out. He pushed her to her knees on the floor. "Clean me up." Tor hesitantly flicked out her tongue. Mr. Wilks grabbed her head and forced his limp cock into her mouth. Tor had no idea what to do so acted like she was sucking a Popsicle. The taste of their mingled juices wasn't all that bad she decided. Watching the young beauty bob up and down on his cock, made him get hard all over again. Her eyes widened in shock at the swelling of the cock within her mouth. Mr. Wilks let himself revel in the feel of her inexperienced tongue licking up and down his tool. Since his cock was ready to go he was going to take that tight cunt again. He caught her hair and forced her to look up at him with his cock still pulsing her mouth. The wide-eyed gaze sent a tremor of pleasure through him. "Stand up," he ordered. Tor silently obeyed. He quickly pushed a couple desks together and laid himself over them. "You ride me this time." Despite her pleasure at the end, Tor remembered she did not ask to have her virginity taken. Now, he would make her a fully willing participant. "Do it!" he growled. Slowly, she climbed onto the table and straddled his hips feeling degraded and used. Grinning he watched the conflicting emotions flicker across her face. Tor grabbed the thick cock in her hand and began guiding it to her sore pussy. She had planned to slowly fit it in but Mr. Wilks had other ideas. As soon as the tip entered her, he grabbed her hips and slammed her down. The shock left her gasping with pain again. He let go and nodded for her to continue, leaning back to watch the show. Mr. Wilks wanted to see her climax again. Tor took a deep breath and began riding his cock with all her might trying to make him cum quickly. She could feel his throbbing cock slip in and out. Every time it was all the way in she could feel it brushing against a tender point. Against her will, warmth began to creep over her body again. Soon she was grinding against Mr. Wilks cock with all her might. Tor reached a hand down between her legs and began massaging her clit. Tingles ran over her skin as the climax came closer and closer. When it hit, her toes curled, her back arched, and she let out a long moan of satisfaction. Tor collapsed on his chest breathing hard and unable to lift herself off his hard cock. Mr. Wilks enjoyed the feel of the tight pussy sucking at his cock. He pushed her off and leaned her over the desk to pound her from behind. He knew he could not hold off much longer. Tor lay limp as Mr. Wilks pumped himself to satisfaction. Pulling out he, wiped his limp dick on her bare leg. "We are done for the day," he said calmly in that same soft, distant voice. "Stay after tomorrow, again." Tor, exhausted, straightened her clothing and walked towards the door. "Wait." Mr. Wilks stopped in front of her. He ran his hands down her front, groping her breasts. He gently lifted the edge of her skirt and pulled down her thong. A finger flicked against her clit, still sore from earlier attention. Tor let a gasp. Mr. Wilks leaned down and whispered, "This is my souvenir." With her thong in hand, he went back to his desk and returned to grading papers leaving her standing there by the door. Tor grabbed the handle and ran from the room. Passing Grade It had been a good year for Ivy Zhang. The graduate science teacher had been fortunate enough to land a position at a prestigious girls' school, and she was hugely popular with the staff and students. She was young, beautiful and exotic to the students, and didn't shy away from taking on extra responsibility in the school. Unlike her older, conservative colleagues, she was a big pusher for new computers and interactive whiteboards, and encouraged her students to make use of the internet for their projects. Ivy would learn, however, that the warnings of her old-fashioned peers weren't just ignorant fears of modern technology. She had her first lesson in the pitfalls of her progressive style of teaching. Her 9th grade science class had completed a unit covering geology and had just submitted PowerPoint presentations on a topic of their choice. She was especially looking forward to one of her best students, Sara. Sara was an interesting case. She was hard working, but she wasn't as academically inclined as her older sister, who was in her final year. Her parents were traditional and conservative and expected to either study to become a doctor, or marry a rich man. At times she showed signs of the overburdening pressure, and her high grades seemed to come with an undertone of "please, don't let me fail my parents". Ivy rewarded Sara for her effort, but there was no skirting around this project. Ivy waited in the classroom. Sara turned up slightly late, having come from an after-school assessment she had to catch up with. After sitting her down, Ivy opened Sara's file and took a breath. "I've read through you work," Ivy began, delivering the typical teacher lines she had rehearsed for years. "There's something I'm concerned about." Sara sat quietly. To her, anything less than an A was reason to be upset, but this was something much worse. "Sara, the project you submitted was quite...inappropriate. I'm afraid I've had to send a report to your coordinator." The young student gazed at her teacher, mouth slightly open, but with no words coming out, allowing Ivy to explain. "You chose to do your project on quicksand. Your research seems good and you explained the concept well, but this part..." Ivy moved through the slides, "is quite...disturbing. You've stated that quicksand is a fetish and that people get turned on by being in quicksand." "That's what I read!" Sara protested, breaking her silence. Ivy continued. "You then included several images of...women...posing in quicksand, and you even included a video clip. Sara, this is pornography." "No, Miss, you don't understand," Sara interjected, close to tears. "There were forums full of experts and I joined one and asked them about quicksand. I found links to these stories and pictures and videos and..." "Sara, the sites you referenced are adult sites. You lied about your age to sign up. These are strangers...disturbed people...who you were talking to. Did you tell them where you lived? Do you realise they could be pedophiles? This was meant to be a simple science project and you've decided to talk about people making sick home videos with models getting off by getting stuck in quicksand? What were you thinking?" Sara was speechless. She looked down. Even Ivy was burning with anger and embarrassment from her own outburst. Her hands were gripping her desk. She honestly felt terrible for Sara, who was only doing her best to get a high grade without realising what she had stumbled into. Ivy really didn't want to do this, but she was professionally bound to report these incidents. It was school policy. "The school has decided to suspend you for a week. You will also receive counselling. This assignment will be reported as an F on your report and will go on your record. I'm sorry Sara, but this is for your own safety and wellbeing." * * * "That's a shame," Chantelle said, lying on the bunk bed. "There are good kids that turn bad." "She didn't turn bad," Ivy replied. "It's the expectation her parents have on her. Her sister got into university, her younger brother is a jock, and she's being expected to live up to her parents' standards. It's unfair for her. Besides, that happened three years ago. She's gotten over it since." Chantelle grunted and sipped from her bottle. It felt relieving to hear Ivy open up like this. Though they had done well at the school for the past three years together, the environment wasn't exactly conducive for frank discussions about the students and staff. Chantelle and Ivy had been asked by the school to supervise the students on a week-long camp for the senior students. They were chosen not so much because they were keen, but because they were young and, according to the school leadership, young people have more time and energy. It was that kind of attitude that frustrated the young teachers, who had to bear the burden of running the extra-curricular activities and sports teams. It was also for that reason that the two teachers were lax on enforcing the school's disciplinary policy. The students were in their final year. They were stressed and wanted to relax before the final term, and their final exams. The teachers were stressed too. The camp nearly failed to happen because the school wanted to keep the students focused, and Chantelle only managed to compromise by only bringing a dozen students. Though they had specifically told the girls not to bring alcohol, they were all over eighteen. There was certainly bound to be a few drinks, and as far as the young teachers were concerned, they were going to turn a blind eye as long as the girls didn't carried away. With that in mind, the teachers switched off their cabin light and went to sleep. A few hours later, they were disturbed by a knock on the door. It was one of the girls. Chantelle and Ivy got up and did a spot inspection of the girls' cabin. They saw what they expected - a few bottles of spirits, clothes strewn about, and no one asleep. But it wasn't because of the spontaneous birthday celebration. Sara was missing. She had wandered off and the girls had forgotten about her. None of them could remember when she was last seen or where she went. It was only when they agreed to stop the celebration and head to sleep that they noticed the empty bunk. Ivy had the shaky, sick feeling in the back of her throat, but with only her and Chantelle in charge, she had to restore order. There was a large area to cover - the cabins, the road, and the path to the beach were the first places she could think of. The problem was that it was the middle of the night. The moon was obscured by the clouds, offering little ambient light, and as they hadn't planned any night activities, no one had thought about bringing a torch. The last thing they wanted was to lose someone else while looking for Sara. It was a tough call for the young teacher, but she figured they had to work together to find Sara. If anything, being involved in the search kept everyone calm. She divided the group into pairs or threes and sent them to different areas, and kept Chantelle and one other student at the cabins to act as the home base for the others to check in routinely. Even with this deployment, it was impossible to cover every possible area. This could be a long night, and Ivy was already dreading the worst. The cabins were located a kilometre away from the beach. The direct route was a heavily overgrown path that took them through thick vegetation. The path wasn't forgiving, having several steep sections and patches of waterlogged sand. It was already challenging to navigate during the day. At night, it was almost a death trap. Ivy was only able to follow the track based on memorising her steps from earlier in the morning, but with the night forming shadows everywhere, she was honestly afraid of the tall, spindly trees that surrounded her. A wrong turn would mean she be lost as well. The only thing keeping her head clear was Mary, one of Sara's friends who volunteered to come with Ivy down this treacherous path. The searched seemed to go on forever. Ivy was beginning to wonder whether Sara had made it all the way down to the beach, which would have taken half an hour and involved following the dangerous trail until it reached the vehicle track, eventually joining with the road that led to the beach. It sounded too far-fetched for a midnight stroll, but from what she remembered, it wasn't that hard to get a sense of direction once the vehicle track was reached. It was the swamp-like terrain between the camp and the beach that was tough. The sediment deposited in the shallow area was prone to forming sinkholes, and even the walking tracks turned into sticky morasses during wet weather. With the dark clouds and the sound of distant thunder, it looked like it was going to be a rainy night. Then, Ivy heard her voice. As Ivy had been chatting to Mary to keep her calm, Sara had overheard their voices and called out. Ivy felt her way through the vegetation until she found her lost student. Sara had fallen into what looked like a deep pit, formed by the dry sand collapsing, trapped Sara into a hole she couldn't climb out of. It was too deep for Ivy to pull her out, so Ivy sent Mary back to the camp to report to the others while Ivy stayed with Sara. Mary hurried off, but it would take nearly an hour to reach the camp and assemble everyone. Sara was awfully quiet. Ivy decided to reach Sara by herself. It was a treacherous drop - a missed step and she might even break her neck. Ivy contemplated her move. She realised how dark the place was, and that the others were likely to miss Sara's pit even with Mary's guidance. Ivy was wearing a white singlet that could be sighted even in the low light. She could hang it from one of the trees and use it to point the rescue team in the right direction. The problem was that Ivy wasn't wearing anything underneath, seeing how she had just gotten out of bed. Between being found topless and saving Sara's life, she decided that she could explain her tits when she got to it. Shredding her top and leaving patches on several branches in a line, she returned to the hole. The night was rather warm, but despite that her nipples were already hard from the exposure to the night sea air. Sara was still down there and responded meekly. From what Ivy could see, there was a small ledge that stuck out from the otherwise sheer drop. Holding onto an overhanging root, she began to shimmy her way down. It was a very nerve-wracking climb. The roots came loose several times, and the ledge she found crumbled as soon as she put weight on it. The sand wall began to dissolve, taking Ivy down with it. She clawed at it to slow her fall, but fortunately she touched the bottom of the hole a second later. Winded, she looked up to see Sara kneeling over her. Sara had a few scratches on her face and arms, and her pyjamas were torn up from walking through the vegetation and falling into the hole, showing off my skin than school policy would allow. "Sara," Ivy said in her teacher voice. "You look like you got into a fight with a tree." * * * It's said that just one line at the right time is enough to know that you're on the same side. Getting that connection was essential for both of them. With the storm clouds closing in and the rain drizzling, the teacher-student pair huddled together, unfazed by their half-nakedness. Rather than feeling awkward, their predicament brought them together. They talked, waiting out the time it would take for the others to find them, if they could even venture out in the downpour and find their way, signposted by Ivy's shreds of cloth. Sara, as she revealed, had been going through a rough patch. The suspension she received years ago from Ivy had turned her life around. Her parents were ashamed and suddenly the expectation went to impossible heights. No matter how hard she worked, how well she did, her one mistake was brought up time and time again. She couldn't live it down. Now, on the eve of her finals, she couldn't take it. She wanted time off, time by herself, away from everyone. Having fallen into the pit and realised that she might never get out, she went through that humiliating chapter in her life. It had been her mistake, and she realised that her teacher was only doing what was right. She apologised to Ivy, and they hugged to make up for years of contempt. As if to acknowledge their reconciliation, the rain stopped. The humidity made the rain sticky and uncomfortable rather than cold and wet, and it turned the sandy in the pit into a sloppy, slippery good that made it impossible to get a hold. "Damn it," Ivy muttered, "my feet keep getting stuck." Sara stopped. She looked down at her feet and noticed the sand creeping over her ankles. "Miss Zhang, wait..." She could hear the faint gurgle of water moving through the ground, bubbling as it seeped through the wet sediment. Her mind went back to the research she had done - that got her suspended. The movement of moisture through the sand caused liquefaction. Liquefaction meant one thing. "Quicksand!" Ivy looked at her student, then looked down to see that she was up to knees in the semi-solid sand. The entire floor of the pit glimmered and quaked. The sand felt like it was suddenly alive, sucking at her legs. "Don't move!" said Sara, also sinking past her knees. "It makes you sink faster. The water's coming from underneath us. If we keep still, we'll stop sinking." "You're the expert," Ivy replied, breathing deeply to calm down, and glad that Sara at least sounded like she knew what was happening. She was still worried though. Even if the pit wasn't bottomless, it would make getting out much more difficult if they sank too deep. The shifting sand forced Ivy to keep her arms outstretched for balance. Her bare breasts bounced freely with her twitchy movements. Her nipples were fully erect. Ivy only just realised that she had been grunting and groaning, and that Sara had stood silently, fixated on her. Then, as the quicksand reached Ivy's upper thighs, she felt something else surge through her body. A soft tingle; a familiar warmth. Ivy began to feel another moistness through her shorts as the quicksand touched her crotch. Her eyes fluttered. She began to feel light-headed. Sara, seeing her teacher in trouble, stepped forward into a soft spot. Her legs slid through the soft quicksand until she reached her crotch. She too felt the warm sand oozing into her shorts and between her legs. She let out a soft moan, carried forward and down by her movement. Her hips moved on their own will, twisting her lower body deeper and allowing more of the sand to press against her young body. Ivy was feeling hot. The quicksand was bubbling right on her sensitive spot. As inappropriate as it was, she could not stop herself from enjoying it. The danger only amplified the intensity. Restraining herself only made it worse. "Ugh!" she moaned. "Didn't you...ugh...say that people get turned on by this? Ugh...how...?" "I'm not...ugh...sure...," Sara gasped, "something...something about trapped, like bondage..." "Oh god," Ivy stifled another moan, caught off by her student dropping the image of bondage. She had settled down past her waist and the quicksand wasn't stopping. She watched helplessly as her torso slipped into the warm, quivering sand. It was only when it began to cup her breasts that Sara called out. "I've stopped sinking!" she said, up to her waist. Ivy reached out for her. Sara got hold of her hand and began pulling her towards her little island. The sand slurped around Ivy's body, sending shivers as it caressed her breasts. With some struggling, the both stood on the tiny solid piece of ground, holding each other by the waist, bodies pressed together. Though they were no longer sinking, the sand continued to flow around their submerged bodies. "Oh...oh god!" Sara screamed. "I...I'm sorry...I think I just came..." Ivy resisted her arousal, but only barely. "Just concentrate," she gasped. But now that they were practically rubbing against each other, lubricated by the sand, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back. Ivy's mind flashed back to the video Sara had attached to her project. It was something like this - the female model being trapped in a pit, moaning loudly, unable to get out. She didn't recognise it then, but she realised why the video had piqued her interest. It wasn't the nudity or the sexual moans that got her. It was the feeling of being trapped; unable to escape from the living sand that embraced them. She felt something against her chest. Sara's hands were placed on her ample bosom, massaging them. Ivy would have said something, but she realised that in her intense reflection, she had been caressing Sara's buttocks. This was the taboo situation, the very item in the news that heralded the teacher-student relationship that tainted her profession and got people fired. She could tell Sara to stop. But there they were, trapped in a pit of quicksand, hanging on for dear life. In that moment, it was all they could do to stop themselves from panicking. They didn't know how long they had been trapped in the pit, or how many times they had reached orgasm. The sand had settled enough that it formed a solid seal around their bodies, pinning their arms against each other. Amazingly, the sky was beginning to light up. It was dawn. And with dawn came the sound of voices calling their names. Finally, they had been found. * * * The pile of exam papers looked like a mountain to Ivy. She decided to call it a night. Yet, she couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the stress, or maybe it was the late coffee. Lying in bed, she opened her laptop and opened up a bookmark. She clicked through a few pages. Her hands slipped into her panties and she smiled softly to herself as she found a quick source of pleasure. Her eyes caught sight of something else. A new thread on the forum. The username was unfamiliar, but she recognised the style of writing, and the story itself - something about going on a school camp, being trapped in quicksand with a hot science teacher, and fingering each other until the sun came up. Ivy grinned with approval. She clicked on the username and sent a private message - to thank Sara for introducing her to this new interest.