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Making The Grade

By: Goldeniangel



It was late after school when Wendy came into Mr. Peterson's office, smiling her usual seductive smile. The older man smiled. Pushing fifty, out of shape, balding... it was always a pleasure when a young and nubile student decided that she wanted to improve her grades without putting in a lot of brainpower. 

"Ahhh... midterms," he sighed happily as Wanda smiled at him. Sometimes he wondered if she must just have a thing for older men... or maybe even for her father. Although a senior in high school, already sexually active at age 18, Wendy's father still thought she was his little angel. At back to school night he'd praised her constantly to Mr. Peterson... and even then Mr. Peterson had noticed their physical similarities. Ever since then, he'd made her call him "Daddy" during their little trysts... which came quit often. He'd gotten in the habit of giving very tough pop quizzes, to the dismay of his other students. 

Wendy seemed to revel in it.

"Hello Mr. Peterson." she smiled demurely, slipping off the simple sweater and skirt that she had on. No underwear of course. Little slut.

"Come here," he demanded, breathing heavily. She knelt in front of him, offering her perky breasts up to his hands. He squeezed them tightly, kneading the bouncy flesh between his fingers as she moaned. Mr. Peterson know that she would already be wet, she always was... something about this entire situation turned her on immeasurably. But he liked to play with her body anyway, enjoying her firm flesh, her erect pink nipples.

Leaning forward, he caught one of those cherry buds between his teeth, listening to her breath hiss out as she thrust her chest forward. His dick pressed against the tight confines of his trousers.

"Alright little girl," he said, pulling away, "On the desk."

"Yes Daddy," she fluttered her eyes at him, leaning over so that he got a full view of her delicious ass and hanging tits. Looking over her shoulder, she wiggled her hips at him as he fumbled with his pants. 

Lining his turgid dick up with her pink pussy, already leaking pre-cum, he pushed forward. Both of them moaned as his dick slid deep into her tight wetness, the insides of her body clinging to him as he shoved the entire length of himself into her. Wendy's ass wriggled against his flabby stomach.

Grabbing hold of her hanging breasts, he pinched her nipples as he began to thrust in and out of her pussy, loving the fact that she was so much younger than him, innocent and pure with youth and yet seductive and slutty as well. Anyone looking in the window might have been shocked to see such a young beauty with a man more than old enough to be her father, his flabby body shaking as he plowed her from behind. His hands kneaded her breasts as he fucked her up against the desk, bouncing off of her rounded buttocks. Wendy supported herself on her forearms against his rough fucking, moaning as he used her body.

Then his dick pulled out of her and she whimpered, knowing what was coming next.

"Oh Daddy.... it huuuurts," she protested as he began to force himself into her tight ass.

"A is for ass," he caroled as her asshole clenched and released around him, giving his dick an erotic and dirty massage. He wasn't always in the mood for her ass, but sometimes it was just fun to make her even more of a slut. And even though she always protested at first, she always loved it too.

His balls slapped against her splayed pussy as he began fucking her tight ass, his hands never ceasing to squeeze her breasts. With his eyes half-closed, he grunted and thrust into her, enjoying the dryer, tighter feel of her back door. Wendy moaned with mingled pleasure and pain as her ass was invaded, her pussy on fire with need.

Resting her head on the desk, she reached down with one hand to being playing with her clit, her ass high in the air. Mr. Peterson ignored the young girl's movements, concentrating on taking his own pleasure from her body. 

Wendy shrieked as his body slammed into hers, opening up her tight hole completely and delving deep into her darkness. Thick frothy cum began to spill into her body, and her asshole tightened around him as she began to orgasm, her fingers rubbing against her engorged clit. He left his dick in her ass, slowly softening as she continued to cum, watching the young beauty twitch and writhe in front of him.

Finally she sighed and relaxed in front of him, and Mr. Peterson pulled his dick from her tight ass. 

"Well Wendy, I do believe that you're going to do very well this semester, especially if you're always coming in for extra help like this," Mr. Peterson smiled as he patted her ass. Wendy smiled back at him in a dreamy kind of way, still bent over as she caught her breath.

"Thank you for helping me out Mr. Peterson."

He watched contentedly as she put on her clothes and walked out the door, cum starting to slide out of her asshole and down her creamy thighs. It was always good to love your job.

Making the Grade



I would like to thank my editor CantSayNo. She did a fine job in helping me straighten out some issues I had with grammar. I feel the story is better because of her assistance.

*

"Class! Remember your final book review is due on Friday in the history department office by three o'clock. The same box you've used all semester will be there, so do not, I repeat, do not slide your papers under the door or send them through campus mail. If I don't get them on time you will get a zero and none of you can afford that. Also, the final is one week from today and will be in 200 Reston Hall, it will be like every other exam this semester. Before I forget ... if any of you have any questions, concerns or complaints I'll have normal office hours through Friday, plus I'll more than likely be here, so drop by my office. Finally, I enjoyed my time with all of you this semester and I hope you all have a safe summer and I'll see some you next semester." 

And so I ended my last class of my first full year as a newly appointed history professor. The only thing left to do was read the incoming book reviews, grade the finals and tabulate my students' grades. After that, I could get to the real task at hand – finishing revisions on my first book, a study of indentured servants in Pennsylvania and their support of the American Revolution, and sending it to the publisher.

Over the next two days, book reviews and anxious students slowly trickled in. The nervous and anxious students asked about the final, while the ones I hadn't seen all semester asked if there was something extra they could do to save their abysmal grades. Of course that was out of the question. Anything extra I let them do I'd have to let the others do. Any breaks or deals I cut them would have to include the rest. In their self-centered minds many of them couldn't even grasp that point.

By four o'clock Friday I was staring at a stack of nearly twenty-five essays that needed critiqued and graded by the end of next week. That didn't include the nearly hundred and twenty finals my students would take next Wednesday.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into, I thought. I always expected this amount of work but no matter how prepared I was, finishing it in enough time to turn the grades in was very daunting. A light knock at my office door interrupted my brief bout of self-pity and loathing.

"Dr. Harris?"

"Mr. Langford," I said as I swiveled in my chair. There in front of me was the hulking man known as Eric Langford. Eric Langford was what passed for a star on our university's football team. Many local sports writers considered him Libertyville State University's best linebacker in over a decade. Some even whispered that if his junior and senior seasons were good enough a NFL team could possibly draft him. None of that particularly interested me though. Eric made fair grades, mostly high Cs, but he wasn't setting any records.

"Dr. Harris, I know this was supposed to be in by three o'clock. I'm sorry it's late," Eric said. He handed me his book review; the pages still warm from printing.

"It's almost four right now," I said looking at the clock on the wall behind Eric. "You know, I really shouldn't take this."

"My printer in my room wouldn't work, so I had to go to the computer lab," Eric explained. The look of fear that crept into his dark blue eyes betrayed his nervousness. 

"You're lucky I was still here. I was just getting ready to leave," I said. I know it's not nice but I enjoyed seeing Eric squirm a bit.

"Thank you so much Dr. Harris, thank you so much." Eric stood looking at me as if he wanted to add something.

"You're welcome. Is there anything else you need?"

"Umm, yeah, could I talk to you about my grades?"

"Sure, but can you make it quick? I have plans for this evening," I said looking at my watch.

"Yeah, see the thing is I'm not sure my grades are where I need them." I grabbed my grade book and found his records. "Last semester I was on academic probation and if I don't get at least a three-o this semester I could lose my scholarship. Right now I think I have a C in your class."

"Looking at your scores," I did some quick calculating in my head. "I'd say it's a high C."

"Doc, is there anything I can do to get it up to at least an eighty? All I need is that B to keep my scholarship," Eric said, his eyes pleaded and voice both pleaded with me.

"I'm sorry Eric, I can't allow you to do extra work. I realize the stakes are particularly high here but it's unfair to the dozen students before you I said 'no' to. Don't forget though, the numbers we just looked at don't include attendance, participation, this book review or your final test. I can assure you you'll get the maximum points for both attendance and participation, which counts for about 10% of your final grade." I waited for Eric's response.

"I understand doc," Eric said. "I'm just not sure how good that book review is or how I'll do on my test."

"Eric I understand your dilemma, I really do. All I can say is study hard for the final, you've done okay on the other tests, and this one won't be any different."

Eric nodded his head and looked out the doorway down the hall. Turning back to me he leaned in and whispered, "If you could see yourself clear to adding a few percentage points to my grade I could get season tickets for you next year, no charge." Eric smiled at me and winked, "the team is shaping up real well so it'll be a good season."

"Eric, no," I said. "By all rights I should report this bribe attempt to the dean. If you leave now I'll forget this ever happened."

"All right, doc," Eric said. "You drive a hard bargain," he looked down the hall again, "season tickets plus 200, no, 500 bucks."

"Eric, that is enough. If you don't leave now I will report you and you'll lose more than your scholarship. They would probably expel you, and you don't want that on your academic transcript," I said, a hint of anger crept into my voice.

"Calm down Dr. Harris, I understand your point. You have my total assurances that nobody else would know about our little arrangement. What's a few percentage points among friends? You wouldn't be the first prof that helped me out like this. I could go as high as a thousand if you want?" Eric said. He arched his eyebrows awaiting a response, as if it would be different than my previous answers.

"Eric, I really think this conversation should've ended a long ..." I began to say before a noise in the hall interrupted me.

"Psst, Eric. Psst, Eric."

I looked past Eric into he hall to see a girl with the thickest, most wavy shock of black hair I'd even seen. She motioned to Eric to try and get him into the hallway.

"Go away," he whispered to her, "I'll be out in a minute."

"But my parents are here now. I don't want daddy to wait any longer than he has to," the girl pleaded.

"Dammit, Isabel, I'll be out in a minute."

"Miss, can I help you with anything," I piped in over their loudly whispered conversation.

"Sorry professor," she said. The girl dropped her head shyly and started to blush.

"I'm sorry. Dr. Harris, meet my girlfriend -- soon to be fiance -- Isabel." Isabel stepped into my office and stood behind Eric. Even sitting down he seemed to tower over this girl and for a brief second I tried to imagine what those two must look like while making love.

"Hello Professor Harris," Isabel said. She extended her hand to shake mine.

"Hello, Isabel. It's a pleasure to meet you," I replied. Isabel gave my hand a half-hearted squeeze and then put it on Eric's head where she started to stroke his thick blond hair.

If only one other thing could be said about Eric Langford it was his mythic ability to attract the most beautiful women on campus. Isabel was certainly no exception. Her coal black eyes burned with an intense radiance. Her lower lip jutted forward slightly giving her a permanent come-hither pout. Her olive-toned skin was blemish free and worthy of any Greek goddess. Only the upper slopes of her breasts were visible above her scoop-necked top. That, however, was enough to hint at the lush, ample bosom hidden beneath the fabric. Her waist narrowed dramatically before flaring into the shapely, full hips of a woman.

Eric watched me intently as I drank in the curves and lines of this gorgeous woman. His eyes followed my gaze. He didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out I was leering at his girlfriend. I snapped out of my trance when my eyes met Isabel's. She flashed me a smile of perfectly white teeth and batted her long, dark eye lashes at me. I shook my head to clear it and I looked back at Eric feeling self-conscious.

Eric stood up with a giant grin on his face. He extended his right hand to shake mine. "Dr. Harris, I'm real sorry about parts of our earlier conversation."

"That's fine, Eric," I said, "misunderstandings sometimes occur. All I can say is study hard and you'll be fine."

"Thank you," Eric said. "Let's go see your father," Eric said to Isabel.

I followed them into the hall. Eric reached out and grabbed a handful of Isabel's round bottom. He turned back at me and winked. Isabel smacked his hand away and I could hear her mumbling something about it having to wait for later. I went back into my office and gathered up all the book reviews so I could get to the street and catch a bus back to my apartment in the Shady Grove section of Libertyville. Saturday I planned on grading all my papers and figuring out the attendance and participation grades for my students. This would hopefully make the final tallying of grades easier once the finals were scored.

The work and routine of professors can be very lonely, especially for history professors. The nature of our very work requires us to spend long hours in poorly lit libraries reading dusty papers nobody has touched in two centuries. I actually like digging into those. The part of this job I despise is the grading. Hour after hour is spent reading papers hoping a couple of students got your point or understood something you said. Instead, you find papers that make you wonder if your students attended one of your classes or bothered to think about anything you said.

This is where I found myself late Saturday afternoon. By five o'clock I'd been at it for nearly seven hours and I was growing increasingly frustrated. Students I'd hoped would've done better didn't, and I was forced to give them lower grades than I had intended. It was around this time I came across Eric Langford's book review.

Surprisingly his review showed a tremendous amount of improvement over his previous two. It was thoughtful and showed that he grasped the main points of the book, his review also made many accurate criticisms. Mildly surprised at his work I gave him a high A. I added this latest grade in with his others, including attendance and class participation. I calculated his scores and saw that his average came out to an 82 percent. Provided he did reasonably well on his final, his grades were high enough for him to keep his football scholarship.

To think he nearly risked his scholarship and college career by offering me a bribe for a grade he'd earned on his own. It was unbelievable. I laughed out loud and shook my head at the near tragedy that was diverted. From inside my apartment office I could hear a faint knocking at the door.

"Coming," I shouted down the hall as I jogged to the door.

When I opened the door I was stunned to see the dark-haired beauty Isabel at the door. 

"Hello, Professor Harris," she said. Her lips parted in a wide smiled to reveal her pearly-white teeth.

"Uh, hello Isabel," I said. I'm sure I sounded perplexed and totally confused, generally because I was.

Before any other pleasantries could be exchanged her cell phone rang. She held up a solitary finger as she answered the call.

"Hello," she said. "Yes, I'm here." I could hear a mumbled voice on the other end. "Yes, he's standing in front of me now." More mumbled conversation. "Of course I will ... yes ... I love you, too," Isabel said. "Here, Eric wants to speak to you," she said handing the phone over to me.

"Eric?" I said, "what's Isabel doing here?"

"Hey, doc," Eric's voice rang in my ear. "I thought I'd try discussing my grades with you one more time."

I walked away from Isabel at the front door and back down the hallway. "Eric, you don't have....," I turned back down my hallway and saw Isabel still at the front door. She was wearing a short floral patterned red sundress. This dress exposed even more of her deep, full cleavage. The sight of that alone got thoughts of bedding this beautiful creature stirring in my head. The short dress showed off her toned calf and thigh muscles. Images of those tanned legs wrapped around my waist or my head as I buried my face between them co-mingled with those of her cleavage. With Eric's phone still to my ear I thought I should hear him out.

"What was that, doc?" Eric said.

"Nothing," I replied. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Well, doc. I noticed you admiring Isabel yesterday, or perhaps I should say leering at Isabel."

"What's your point?" I snapped into the phone.

"Easy doc, easy," Eric said coolly. "In return for the grade I need to keep my scholarship Isabel would be happy to spend some time with you."

"Believe me that isn't necessary, Langford," I said.

"Come on, doc," Eric said unfazed at my last snap, "look at Isabel. I know you'd love to get your hands on that tight little body, I saw the look in your eye. Give her a whirl, you know you'd love to. She can suck a dick like it's the only one left and she's got the sweetest snatch I've ever been in. Not to mention she shaves it bald. Go ahead and ask her to show it to you. Tell her you want to see her pretty cunt."

"That's okay, Eric. I believe you." I was starting to get turned on by Eric's filthy descriptions of his oblivious girlfriend standing in my doorway, a smile still on her face. "You've got a deal, but here are the terms, Eric." I was getting ready to accept a bribe from a student to give him a grade he actually earned. I could've ended this all by shutting Langford up for a minute and just explaining things to him. If he wouldn't listen to me I didn't see any reason to keep trying to talk to him.

"Lay it on me, doc. You're in charge, I'm just a student," he said. The huge smile on his face was even evident through the phone.

"Isabel for the whole night, no interruptions. Plus, I want those season tickets you talked about earlier and five hundred bucks." I figured if I was going to be bribed, I should do it right.

"Make it three hundred," Eric began to say.

"I think we're done talking then," I said moving to close the phone.

"No, no, five hundred is fine, but you only have Isabel until tomorrow morning."

"We'll call you when we're done," I said, "there's no magic hour when she disappears."

"Okay," he reluctantly said, "give me back to Isabel, please."

I handed the phone back to Isabel. I could tell she was listening intently to Eric. "Yes, if that's what you want," she said. Isabel looked at me and smiled, "No. Yes, I'll be fine." I could hear Eric talking some more. "You know I'd do anything for you," she said, "I love you too." Isabel closed her phone and went to put it away in her purse.

"Turn that phone off," I said, "I don't want Eric calling to check up on you and interrupting us. I don't think he will, he's not that stupid."

Isabel turned the cell phone off as instructed. She put the phone away and closed the door behind her. I stood there with my hands in my pants pockets and admired the lithe female standing in front of me.

"I'm only doing this for Eric," Isabel said. As quickly as it was there the shining smile disappeared and was replaced by a dark scowl. "I have no interest in you whatsoever."

"I didn't expect you to," I replied. "But where are my manners. Could I offer you a cigarette or perhaps some wine?"

"Wine would be fine, red if you have it," Isabel said.

I motioned for her to sit on the couch. A few seconds later I returned from the kitchen with two full glasses of wine. I handed one to Isabel and then I sat down in a chair directly across from her.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" I said. I was trying to quit smoking but if anytime called for a smoke this was one of them. I hoped this cigarette would calm my nerves, which were on edge now. I was close to crossing several ethical boundaries that could spell ruin to my career not only here but at hundreds of other colleges and universities. Nobody wants to hire a professor that accepts bribes and fucks students or girlfriends of students.

I lit my cigarette and inhaled deeply. The acrid smoke burned my lungs at first but was soon replaced by the calming sensation that made smoking so hard to quit. I exhaled the smoke from my lungs into a cloud above my head.

"Your boyfriend, Eric Langford, made me an offer. He and I found the terms acceptable. The hard part is actually yours," I said as matter-of-factly as possible.

"How is that?" Isabel said. She sipped at the glass of wine. "This is very good," she added.

"It's simple actually. The largest part of the success or failure of Mr. Langford's deal lies with you," I said.

Isabel eyed me suspiciously as if she didn't believe me.

"If you wanted to leave right now I certainly wouldn't stop you. If at any point during the course of the evening you say 'stop' or 'no' I will. However, if I'm not satisfied that his end of the bargain has been held up I have no choice but to give him the grade he deserves. Whether he keeps his scholarship or not would be up to the proper academic officials."

Isabel tapped at her half-empty wineglass with a polished fingernail. She looked up at the ceiling, her mind pondering what I'd just told her. She leveled her gaze back towards me. "So I'm really the one in charge then," she said with a triumphant smile on her face.

"Well, yes and no. You're in charge as far as whether your boyfriend's bargain is held up. My satisfaction, however, is dependent upon your amount of acquiescence," I said.

"I guess you've got me," Isabel said. "I'm your whore for the evening."

"That sounds so crass," I said. "Would you care for more wine?"

"I think I'm going to need it," Isabel said. She held out her glass.

I returned with Isabel's glass filled with more wine. She emptied nearly half the glass in one long gulp.

"Easy there," I said, "I don't want you to pass out on me." I sat back down in the chair across from Isabel. Even from there I could see the wine was already starting to affect her. A light blush crept across the apples of the cheeks and her upper chest. I didn't want to stop giving her alcohol so early in the evening but I thought the more she drank the more amenable she'd be as the evening wore on.

"I suppose this is the part where you ask me about myself," Isabel said. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at me.

"No," I said, "I'll tell you what I know and you correct me. I don't think you'll have to but it'll be fun."

"Okay," she snipped.

I took a sip of my wine and sat the glass down. "Where should I begin?" I said, I tapped my index fingers together in thought. "Ah, here. Your father is Greek. He ran a small cargo shipping company that he ran until he sold it to a larger firm in 1978. The money he made from that deal, he sunk into various resorts and casinos spread across the Mediterranean. Your father appears to have been quite the jet setting playboy in his day. It was during one of his many trips to Paris where he met a young aspiring model."

"Your mother is Spanish. Your mother was a fairly successful model in the early 80s across Western Europe, although she never received the exposure in the States that she deserved. As an aside, I definitely see where you get your looks. It was during a fashion show in Paris that your parents met for the first time. Over the objections of her parents they married less than a year later."




Making the Grade



"I believe they were married in July 1981. The Spanish, French and Greek papers carried stories on the wedding, a few even had photos. Imagine the press from a rich playboy marrying a young model, not to mention their age difference, which is ... what Isabel ... twelve years? That difference would hardly raise any eyebrows now but then it was a near scandal."

"After settling briefly in Italy your parents moved to New York in the spring of 1982. In late fall of that year you were born. And here we are today."

The blood and color drained away from Isabel's face. I could see her fingers tremble a bit. "How did you learn all of that?" she stammered.

"It was simple, but how is irrelevant right now," I responded.

"I don't like this," Isabel said. She stood up and headed towards the door. "Eric can keep his grades."

I got up and blocked her at the door. I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards me. "We aren't finished yet," I whispered into her ear, "now go and set your ass down."

"Professor Harris," she said. Tears started to stream down her cheeks, "I can't do this, please let me leave."

"Don't kid yourself Isabel, you and I both know why Eric sent you over," I said. "It's because you're a whore and he knew you'd do whatever it takes to make him happy."

"I'm not a whore," Isabel protested, "I've never done anything like this." Tears were now pouring down her reddened face. I could barely make out her words through her sobs.

The feeling of power I had over her was intoxicating. I knew her type: she was used to getting what she wanted and having others hanging on her every word just because she is hot. I also knew she was the type who'd never give me the time of day in my younger years. Now she had to listen to me and I didn't give a fuck what she said.

"When Eric first came to you with this idea you begged and pleaded with him that you couldn't do what he asked. I'm sure you cried and yelled and screamed and threatened to break up with him. But you didn't though, did you Isabel? Eric can see you for what you are – he knows you're a whore. Just like I do," I said.

"No, no," Isabel moaned through the tears, "Eric doesn't think I'm a whore. He loves me."

I sat down on the couch next to Isabel and pressed my body against hers. She shrank into the corner of the sofa trying to pull away from me. I could feel the heat pouring off of her body in her agitated state. It was incredibly arousing to feel her firm young body beneath mine and to smell her shampoo and conditioner in her hair. My cock noticeably tented the front of my pants – I was really enjoying this.

"Deep down in that pretty little stomach of yours you know it's true. The idea of spreading your legs for other guys turns you on so much that when Eric asked you to do this it was all you could do to stop yourself from screaming 'yes, yes.' Instead you had to act coy, like you're doing now. You had to protest. You had to pretend you were a lady. You didn't want Eric see your face flush from excitement, your nipples poking through your top or how wet your pussy got," I said. 

I put my left hand on her knee and started to slide it up her leg. Her leg twitched from my touch but soon relaxed. I could feel her defenses weaken a bit as my hand climbed further towards the hem of her dress. Isabel's posture relaxed the slightest bit. Her legs relaxed open further as my hand slid back her dress and caressed her inner thigh.

I grinned at Isabel. She didn't smile back but the look of disgust and fear in her eyes was replaced by something else. That same look of smoldering sexuality I saw in her eyes the first time was back along with a glimmer of raw lust.

I slid my hand between her legs until my fingers touched the silky fabric of her panties. Her panties were soaked, even in the failing afternoon light I could see a dark patch on the material. I glanced at Isabel, her eyes darted away from mine but she knew she was caught.

I put my hand on her thigh and tried to ease her legs open a little further. Isabel clamped her legs shut. "No, Professor Harris," she said. Isabel squirmed under my weight. "I want to leave. Please don't do this," Isabel said. She began to cry again but not as much as before.

"Your cunt is soaking wet," I said. I slid Isabel further down on the couch seat; her sundress bunched up around her waist baring her from the hips down, and yanked her legs apart. I pinned one of her legs beneath mine. "You and I both know you don't want to leave. If you left you'd have to go back to your role as the girlfriend and you don't want that. You want to be the whore you truly are."

I pushed her skimpy panties aside. Her cunt was completely out in the open now. Her pussy lips were completely swollen from excitement and her skin glistened from her secretions. Not a hair was to be found on her pubic mound at all. It was all I could do to keep myself from going down on her to taste and smell her arousal.

I put two of my fingers at the opening of her pussy and began to gently rub it. Within seconds my fingers were wet with the juices from her snatch. Isabel tried to push my hand away from her opening with her right hand. "We don't have to do this," Isabel said. "If you stop now, I'll leave and I won't tell anybody what you did. Please, Professor Harris, I didn't think it was going to happen like this," more tears than before steamed out of her glassy eyes and made their way over her cheeks and towards her chin.

"Don't you stop fucking crying?" I hissed into her ear. I pulled my hand from between her legs and grabbed her right wrist. I adjusted my body so I could slide my right arm behind her. With a simple twist I pushed her right arm behind her back and grabbed it. Isabel was now subdued. Her left arm and leg were now pinned by my body weight and her right arm was secured behind her back now held by me. The top of her sundress was pulled down far enough to expose much of her cleavage, her breasts pulled the fabric of her dress tight from her struggles.

"You're so fucking wet right now," I said as I placed my fingers back on her pussy. "You like being treated like a dirty little slut." My index and middle finger met little resistance when I slid them into her opening.

"Noo," Isabel moaned. My fingers went into her wet snatch, first up to the middle of my fingers and then up to my knuckles. Isabel started to squirm under the pressure of my fingers. She was still trying to pull away when I took my thumb and began to strum the hood of her clit.

Her struggling ceased right then. Isabel's eyes rolled back and her eyelids fluttered. Her mouth formed an "O" as the first reluctant moans escaped under her breath. I continued to work my fingers in her pussy as the juices sucked them back in. My thumb continued to lightly tease her clit. At first I thought she was still trying to get away – a combination of pleasure and revulsion at what was happening – but her hips took on a rhythmic motion.

"You're fucking my hand, aren't you, you little slut," I whispered in her ear.

She shook her head 'no' but her moans were getting louder and her breathing more shallow. Once I said that to her she stopped her hips from gyrating, if only for a few seconds. Soon she was back moving her hips only faster and more confident in the movements.

My hand glistened from her juices. Her cheeks red from crying was replaced by the flushed skin of arousal. Her face, neck and chest burned hot from her desire. Little beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and her nipples her clearly visible poking through the disheveled fabric of her sundress.

"Yes," Isabel moaned, or more like screamed, "I'm fucking your hand." Her body tensed up as an orgasm wracked her body. After several seconds of cries and moans Isabel relaxed completely in my arms.

I pulled my fingers from her pussy with a tiny slurp and brought them up to my lips. I licked her cunt juices off, savoring the tangy taste of her nectar and its aroma. "Mmm, your juices taste good," I said. My tongue continued to work its way around my fingers, but only more for effect now.

I let Isabel out of my grip and she stood up. She adjusted her panties and straightened her dress up, her face still glowed from her orgasm and that look in her eye hadn't subsided one bit. I got off the couch and stood in front of her.

"I knew you'd like that. You are a little whore, just like I thought," I said.

A flash of anger crossed her face. "You're such a fucking pig," she said. Before I could react Isabel slapped me hard on the left cheek and then she spit on me. "I'm leaving now and don't try to stop me," she said, "where's my phone so I can call Eric?"

I stood there unfazed after the shock of the slap wore off. At that moment I started to laugh, a deep hearty laugh like someone just told you a joke you shouldn't laugh at but can't help yourself. "You're a feisty little wench," I said. "You aren't going anywhere. I'm not finished with my whore and Eric hasn't earned his grade yet."

I grabbed her wrists and pulled her to me so she could feel my cock as it dug into her stomach. She tried to pull away but I just held on still laughing. "I'm tired of this silly game," I said. "I'm taking you to the bedroom where we can finish this properly." I grabbed Isabel by the waist and hoisted her over my shoulder. She felt feather-light on my shoulders as I secured her legs with my arm.

Isabel began to kick the air and slap her hands at my back. "Let me go," she screamed, "I want out, right now."

"Still can't admit you're a little whore," I said. With my free hand I reached up and slapped her tender buttock. Her cries quieted down immediately. "I like this little thong you have on. It makes your ass look better than I could've imagined," I said with a little chuckle. This raised her protests again and she started kicking and screaming anew. "Shut up already," I said. I smacked her ass harder this time. I noticed a red welt in the shape of my hand started to rise up.

I carried Isabel over my shoulder back the hallway to my bedroom. A queen-sized bed dominates the center of my room with nightstands on either side of the headboard. The bed is perfect for whatever else I had planned for this little slut. Once in the room I kicked the door closed behind me and with my free hand I turned on a floor lamp on its lowest setting casting a warm, comfortable glow around the room.

I tossed Isabel off my shoulder onto the bed. She landed with slight bounce, which much to my delight caused her breasts to jiggle ever so slightly. I smiled and nodded my head appreciatively.

"Take off that fucking dress," I said. I began to unbutton the cuffs on my shirt.

Isabel sat up without protest and slowly slid the straps off her shoulders. She kept her gaze focussed on me while she did it. The look of animal lust had returned to her eyes. This time I didn't think it would leave again. Isabel raised her hips off the bed as she slid the dress down over her hips and legs before she finally tossed it onto the floor next to my shirt.

I stood there admiring the soft curves of her body and the tight unblemished skin that formed her perfectly shaped face, breasts, buttocks and legs. My pants and underwear joined the rest of my clothes on the floor. Isabel bit her bottom lip when she looked over me.

"Now, take off your slutty little panties," I said.

"Don't you want me to suck your cock first? I'm really good at it," Isabel said.

"Blowjobs are for virgins in the backseat of daddy's car and for girls afraid of taking a dick in their twat," I snapped. I kneeled on the edge of the bed, my cock jutted from between my legs at an obscene angle. It was fully engorged and shiny with my precome.

"You just haven't had one of mine yet," Isabel said. She gave me a lecherous wink that looked out of place on her face.

"Can't you just listen for one fucking time? I said take off your panties," I growled. I grabbed a handful of Isabel's dark hair and half dragged, half pushed her towards me.

She squealed in protest. Her hands grabbed at her hair and my hands trying to free herself. She twisted and struggled on the bed bunching the covers up underneath her body. Her body wracked with fits of coughing and crying as she tried to catch her breath between heavy sobs.

"I see I'm going to have to teach you a lesson," I said. I released my hold on Isabel's hair as I pushed her face first down on the bed. I grabbed her around the waist and lifted, pushing her delectable bottom in the air. The sound of skin slapping against skin reverberated through the bedroom as my right hand landed across her buttocks. After several firm whacks I noticed Isabel's behind had turned a bright shade of red and she'd stopped crying.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" I asked, "are you going to be a good girl?"

"No," she said. Her voice hoarse from sobbing and coughing, "I need spanked more." Isabel even pushed back on her forearms raising her bottom a little higher in the air for me.

"Will you take off your panties now for me?" I said. My hand was poised above her behind waiting for her answer.

"No, I don't want to yet," she said.

I smacked her several more times. Her ass cheeks got darker with each whack and my hand started to sting, making it even painful to administer this spanking to the little whore in my bedroom.

"You found my weakness, Professor Harris," Isabel moaned. "I love having my ass spanked."

"Does Mr. Langford know?" I asked. My hand rained down on her bottom several more times.

"He says it's too dirty," Isabel said. She moaned and with each whack she wagged her ass back and forth.

"It's time for the panties, now Isabel. I'm glad you enjoyed this but I'm done playing," I said.

I grabbed the narrow waistband on her hips and peeled the panties from her body. Isabel's pussy lips were swollen and protruded betraying the depths of her arousal. The fabric at the crotch of her panties was heavy with excess wetness. Her earlier cries of protest hid what her body could not: her complete arousal.

I grabbed Isabel by the hips and roughly pulled her towards the edge of the bed so her knees were on the edge and her feet dangled off. I adjusted my stance so my cock was perfectly level with her pussy. In one quick movement I impaled Isabel on my dick. I slid easily in her lubricated hole, my shaft stretching her pussy lips as the tip of my cock pushed into her.

"Oww," Isabel moaned in a cross between slight pain and pleasure.

I barely heard her. I held onto her hips and pulled her even further onto my cock. I started thrusting into her fuck hole like a wild animal rutting. The only sounds in the room were coming from us. Our bodies slammed against each other in quick succession – hot flesh slapping against hot flesh. Isabel buried her head in the rumpled covers, her hair a wild mass of strands. I could hear her moans and screams as if a soundtrack to a porno was being played. I breathed in short steady bursts. Beads of sweat ran over my forehead stinging my eyes. My hands clamped tightly on Isabel's narrow waist, her every writhing movement telegraphed to me. Isabel the reluctant tearful girlfriend was gone, in her place was Isabel the wanton whore getting the fucking of her life and enjoying it.

I thrust my pole in and out of Isabel's sopping hole; the walls of her vagina gripped me steadily. Each stroke brought me closer to the edge. I could feel my own orgasm welling up in my loins.

No sooner had that thought passed through my head I went over the edge. I let a low guttural moan escape from me as my cock made its first characteristic twitch. I could feel my hot spunk stream from me into Isabel's awaiting cunt. She moaned as the first wad entered her. I could feel Isabel push herself back as my cock spasmed one spurt after another of thick white come into her. Isabel wailed as her orgasm cascaded through her body, sapping her of her energy also.

Drained from my exertions I collapsed onto the bed next to Isabel's own orgasm-wracked body. The sheets were damp and sticky from her sweat. Her hair, once a gorgeous mass of dark waves, was now full of tangles and completely lacking its previous refinement. She still looked gorgeous and her skin shown with that just-fucked afterglow and the blush hadn't completely faded from her either.

Both of us fell asleep briefly where we lay. I awoke first, Isabel slept peacefully next to me with her back facing me. It wasn't very late, just a little after midnight, but it felt like forever since Isabel had first arrived at my apartment with Eric Langford's offer. The ramifications of what I'd just done hit me like a ton of bricks. At that moment I was sure I'd never teach again, any hopes of future employment were out the window. Who wants to hire a lecherous professor that fucks students or their girlfriends in exchange for grades? That breaks every moral and ethical code a college professor is supposed to live by. Then depending how this breaks, there was always the possibility of some kind of criminal charges. The fine points of what I could be charged with were unknown to me but the outcomes were not pleasant to say the least.

I looked over at Isabel's smooth flawless back down over her rounded hips and beautiful heart-shaped ass and laughed to myself. Who the fuck was I kidding? I'd do this all over again and then some. My cock agreed. It had started to stir even before I'd completely awaken. It now stood at attention, well rested from its previous activity and ready to go.

I reached over and patted Isabel's bottom. She stirred and turned over to face me.

"Let me guess. I haven't earned Eric's grade yet?" Isabel said to me. She smiled the same smile I'd seen in my office the other day.

"I don't think you care about Eric's grades anymore do you?" I reached over her hip and began to squeeze and caress her ass.

"Not really," she answered.

Isabel moved closer to me. I slid my middle finger along the cleft of her ass until it ran across her puckered asshole. Isabel squealed as my finger brushed against the nerve-laden opening. She moaned into my ear as I tentatively pushed past the opening.

"What's on your mind," she asked.

"I want to fuck your pretty little ass," I whispered into her ear as I sunk my middle finger completely into her.

Her eyes jolted open. "I've never been fucked in the ass," she said, "I don't know if I want to do that." Isabel tried to wriggle away from me but I held her tightly against me. I continued to slide my finger in and out her. 

"It's never been a question of what you want," I said. "Tonight is all about what I want. Right now I want your tight little ass." I'd thought by now Isabel was a willing participant but I see she still needed coaxing to cooperate.

Isabel pushed her hands against my bare chest. Again she wriggled her hips to try and move away from my finger impaling her tight asshole. "No, dammit. I don't want to do this," she said. Once again tears welled up in the corner of her eyes.

"Then why is your cunt so hot now? Your thighs are slick with your pussy juices. That hardly seems like a reaction from a girl who doesn't want fucked."

Isabel closed her eyes and moaned into her pillow. "Yes," she said, "I want fucked."

Slowly I worked a second finger into her, stretching her rectum. She moaned louder as she felt my finger work its way into her. Seeing my fingers plunging into her asshole was exhilarating and I thought I'd lose my load right then.

"Are you ready, whore?" I whispered lecherously into her ear.

Isabel nodded. She rolled onto her stomach as I withdrew my fingers from her. I straddled her hips with one foot on the bed and the other on the floor, my cock pointed at her delicious rump. I reached into my nightstand and pulled out a tube of lubricant.





Making the Grade



I squirted a huge dollop across Isabel's asshole. She twitched as I spread the cool jellied lube around her tight opening. As I probed her opening with my thumb Isabel began to raise her bottom towards me, offering me her ass like I wanted. She was even beginning to moan a bit.

"Not so bad? Is it Isabel?" I asked. I began to apply lube to my swollen member. I stroked my cock until it glistened in the bedroom light from my mushroom-shaped tip down to the base of my thick shaft. My cock and I were now ready for Isabel's shapely rump.

Isabel didn't respond to my question. When I slid my lubed up cock along her ass she cooed and shook her ass. Isabel was inviting me to penetrate her and take her anal virginity.

I groaned as I pushed my swollen tip against her sphincter. Even with the lubrication I had to push against her opening. With a slight slurping noise I slowly slid my tip into her rectum. Isabel cried out in pain as I entered her.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes," Isabel said, "it just hurts a little."

"Relax your muscles a little," I said, "you're resisting too much."

I had my hands around Isabel's tiny waist. Right away I could feel her tightened muscles relax and her position loosen. She let out a sigh of relief when muscles tensed from holding their position could rest. She turned her head to the side like she was ready to rest.

I continued to push into her tightness easing my cock into her. Her ass took nearly my full length, her asshole stretched to accommodate my girth. I withdrew my cock until only my tip remained in her. There was still plenty of lube left on her asshole and my cock.

Isabel moaned as I started to fuck her. I held her hips as I fed my cock in and out of her asshole. I could hear the rhythmic tapping of my balls against her pussy. Isabel seemed to be enjoying this as much as I was.

Coming earlier helped me to hold out longer than I thought I could. The tightness enveloping my cock drew me to my orgasm quicker than I could've imagined. I continued to fuck this gorgeous creature as hard as I dared. The feeling of each stroke and Isabel's insistent moans fueled me on and on.

I groaned as I felt my load surge through my balls. Before I lost all focus I plunged my cock one final time into Isabel's slippery tightness, my balls resting against her pussy. With another groan I felt my spunk escape from my cock. I pumped my hot load into her ass, filling her up with my seed.

I withdrew my deflated cock from her ass and collapsed on the bed next to Isabel in a sweaty heap. For a moment Isabel remained on her elbows and knees with her ass posed alluringly above her. I let my eyes roam over her own sweat-covered body admiring her curves and the gentle sway her breasts had as the nipples rubbed against the bed sheets.

Isabel looked at me and smiled. "Mmm ... that felt so good. I'm glad you didn't listen to my objections." She leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

"Eric told me you had the sweetest snatch he'd ever been in, but he has no idea how sweet that ass of yours is," I said. I didn't know what sort of reaction I'd get when I repeated what Eric had said to me.

Isabel looked at me. Disgust flashed across her face but was soon replaced by that smile I was attracted to that first day. "Eric can be such a fucking pig," Isabel said, "you should hear how he talks to his football buddies. I bet you don't talk like that. Do you?"

"No. No, I don't," I said.

Isabel smiled back at me. "Can I get a shower? I'm such a mess," she said.

"Sure, but leave the door open I'd like to watch you if you don't mind," I said. I tossed the lube back into my dresser door for use another time and lit a cigarette as Isabel crawled off of the bed. She was right, she was mess. Her ass glistened from the smeared lube, a frothy mixture of lube and semen coated her asshole and I could see several trails of my come dripping from her and gliding over her perky ass cheeks.

"Okay," she said as she stepped into the shower and steam filled the bathroom. I finished my cigarette and laid back to enjoying watching my nubile new fuck partner shower her lithe body. It really was a fantasy from a porn movie come true.

By the time I'd finished my shower Isabel was dried off and had found one of my white dress shirts. She looked so sexy in the over-sized shirt hanging off her body and barely covering her past her waist. I smiled and nodded my head in appreciation.

I continued to towel off in front of Isabel and got dressed. I had decided upon my next course of action while I showered.

"Isabel, can I ask you something?" I said.

Isabel looked at me suspiciously, "sure, if you want to," she said.

"How long have you known Eric?" I asked her.

"Oh, we met during freshman orientation last year," she said. "We've pretty much been together since then."

"Besides making sexist comments to his friends about you and stuff like that. Is Eric a good boyfriend?"

"He's great. He treats me so well. He loves me and I love him," Isabel said. "No offense, but if it wasn't for Eric I probably never would've been here right now. I'm glad I came anyhow, though." Isabel managed a friendly smile, but she seemed aware that I might take offense to what she'd just said.

"No offense taken. I certainly understand that," I said, "let me ask you something else. How well does Eric listen?"

That question hit a nerve. Isabel twitched. "He sometimes only hears what he wants to."

"That's what I thought," I said. "Here come with me," I said. I stood up and took Isabel's hand. She followed me down the hall into my paper strewn and book-cluttered office. She took the seat at my desk as I flipped my grade book open to Eric Langford's section. "Here are Eric's grades," I said. I laid a ruler under his line for her to better see his scores. "Add up those first five scores."

Isabel quickly did the math on a calculator I had laying nearby. "That comes out to 78 percent," Isabel said.

"Exactly," I said. Isabel looked at me as if she didn't see the point to all of this. 

"But," she said, "Eric needs a B average to keep his scholarship. The Athletic Department was quite clear that they weren't going to cut him any breaks."

"I know, Eric explained that to me. Now factor in his participation and attendance score along with his book review," I said. 

A few seconds later Isabel looked back at me. "That's an 82," she said.

"Mr. Langford, your boyfriend, wouldn't listen to me. He earned the grades he needed on his own," I explained. I closed the grade book and tossed it on a pile of papers.

Comprehension passed quickly into anger through Isabel's eyes. "That bastard," she said through gritted teeth. "You mean if he'd kept his mouth shut for a minute none of this would've been necessary?" she said.

I nodded my head. "I tried to explain to him but each time I said something he said something over me. When you showed up at my door and he made his final offer I didn't give a damn what grade he earned. I wanted to have you ever since I first laid eyes on you in my office."

"Do you know how much begging and pleading he did with me? He pushed all the right buttons with me, he knew exactly what to say so I'd agree to come out here and sleep with you. I feel so stupid now," Isabel said. She buried her head in her hands, her long dark hair obscured her face but her sobbing was clear.

"Don't cry, Isabel," I said, "it's not like it wasn't an entirely enjoyable experience."

"Can I leave or do you still have things you want to do to me?" Isabel said.

"If you want, you can leave. Eric's grade has been more than earned as far as I'm concerned," I said.

Isabel quickly left my office and grabbed her dress and panties from my bedroom. In a matter of seconds she was dressed and dialing Eric's number on her cell phone.

"I can't believe you took advantage of me like that," she said. "You're even worse than Eric, you should've known better. I don't know who to be angrier with?"

"Cut the drama," I snapped, "you know you enjoyed getting fucked and I know you enjoyed being here, too. Oh, and don't be surprised if Eric wants to know where your new found enjoyment for getting fucked up the ass came from. Make sure you tell him all about tonight."

A few minutes later I saw Eric drive up to the curb and Isabel got in. She brushed Eric off when he leaned over to kiss her. Eric looked up at my window before he pulled away, even in the pale moonlight I could see the smug grin on his face. Little did he know, I was the one who should be wearing the smug grin – after all I just fucked his girlfriend for a grade he earned all on his own.

The days between the weekend and the final passed without any contact between Isabel, Eric Langford or me. Friday morning I headed into 200 Reston Hall for Eric Langford's class final. A few students were already in the room by the time I arrived. Over the next several minutes students steadily streamed in, many bleary-eyed and some half-drunk. I even took a minute to admire the firm young bodies of several of my female students. I knew this would be the last chance I may have to give many of them the once over before they disappeared from my intro history course.

About two minutes before the final began Eric sauntered in with the same grin on his face he wore a few evenings ago. Eric took the first seat in the far right hand row and winked at me. I turned away from him and started to hand out the exams to the class. They had three hours for the final but I planned the test to take no more than an hour and a half.

During the final I saw Eric looking around the room. I would've thought he'd been cheating if it wasn't for the grin on his face. At about the two-hour mark only Eric and two other students remained in the room. The other students finished up and handed their exams in, glad to be finally done for the semester and for the year.

Eric finished writing something and closed his test booklet. He walked up to the desk and tossed the test down. He leaned over the desk towards me.

"We're good? Right doc?" Eric said.

"We're great," I said.

"You must've put Isabel through the ringer that night. She hasn't felt like fucking since Saturday. What the hell did you do to her? I told you she had a hell of body on her," Eric said. His tone was hardly confrontational; hell it was more self-congratulatory. It was as if he was saying to me 'I hope you enjoyed your time with her because from now on I'm the only one who's going to touch her.'

"Eric, I promised her I wouldn't say anything to you about Saturday night," I said. Of course that was a lie, I'd promised no such thing. "From experience I know that if your relationship with her is going to survive you won't want to know what she did that night. Anytime you're tempted to demand an honest telling of that night just remember she fucked me all for you. That should be enough, okay Eric?"

"Yeah, you're right," he said. He looked a little pissed but he smiled and walked towards the classroom door.

"Don't worry, Eric," I said, "you'll be able to keep your scholarship."

"I knew I could count on you," Eric said. He gave me a thumbs-up before leaving.

I gathered up all the tests and headed back to my office to begin the final task of the semester by grading the monstrous stack of exams. By three o'clock the building was vacant except for a few professors still completing their grades. The only noises I could hear were the steady hum of the clock in the hallway and occasionally the water fountain running.

A little after four o'clock I heard the click of heels in the hallway. I didn't pay any attention to it since I assumed it was a secretary closing up for the day or another professor. The sound grew louder until it stopped outside my door. I heard a knocking on my door. I swiveled in my chair to find Isabel standing at the door wearing a short yellow skirt and a light green t-shirt. Both pieces of clothing showed off her spectacular shape very well. I still found it just as attractive as I did the first day I saw her and even more so since Saturday evening.

"Professor Harris?" she said.

"Isabel," I said stunned, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here." I turned back in my chair and tried to start grading again.

"I'm sorry Professor Harris. I know I shouldn't be here," she said. "I wanted to apologize for leaving the way I did on Saturday. I was more mad at Eric for him not listening than at you."

"Isabel, there is no need to apologize. I think you should leave now," I said. I got out of my chair and tried to shoo her into the hall. "I don't think you should be seen here."

"Don't worry Professor Harris," she said, "I didn't see anybody else in the building." She had that same smile on her face I'd been drawn to from the start. Isabel pushed by me and perched herself on the table edge opposite my chair.

"What is it you want, Isabel?" I said. My tone came across as very testy and agitated – I smelled a shakedown or blackmail coming on.

"I couldn't stop thinking about all those nasty things you did to me Saturday night. You know fucking my ass and calling me your whore and ..." Isabel said.

I leaped up from my chair and shut my office door in case somebody was still around. "What the fuck are you trying to do?" I said. "Are you and Langford going to try and blackmail me? What are you going to tell the dean I threatened to fail Eric if he didn't let me bang his girlfriend?" 

I opened my office door and looked up and down the hallway. "Where's Eric? I'm sure he's just around the corner," I said glaring back at Isabel.

"Professor Harris, it's not like that at all," Isabel said. "Eric doesn't even know I'm here. Hell, he's probably drunk by now," Isabel said, "however, I am here for something."

"I knew it! What's it going to be?" I asked.

"Is the door locked," Isabel said. I nodded. "Like I was saying earlier, when you wouldn't listen to me, I liked everything – and I mean everything – we did on Saturday night. I need fucked like that and quite frankly Eric isn't up to it. Sure he talks a good game but when it comes time to getting it done he can't. Professor Harris, you did things to me Eric couldn't dream of and I want more of it."

By the time she finished, Isabel had pushed her dress up to her waist with her legs spread revealing her white cotton panties. Isabel rubbed her pussy through her panties while she talked to me; a damp spot appeared and continued to grow larger. She was getting turned on and so was I.

I got up and stood in front of Isabel. Her breathing was deep and I could feel the heat rising from her body and her eyes smoldered with burning hot passion. "Are you sure that's what you want?" I asked.

Isabel chewed her lower lip and nodded her head.

I yanked Isabel off of the table and spun her round and pushed her over the table. She thrust her hips back into me and rubbed her ass against the crotch of my pants and my hard on. I slid my hand up her skirt and over her smooth skin and rubbed the cheeks of her pert bottom. She squealed and giggled with delight as my thumb ran near her anus. I slid my middle finger under the elastic of her panties and started to rub her swollen pussy lips. Before I knew it my fingers dripped with her juices. She whimpered as I slid first one finger than another into her. I slowly finger-fucked her while I could feel the heat from her body rise. In my air conditioned office condensation began to form on the tiny windows that looked onto a courtyard. She cried and whimpered in pleasure, laying her head on the table as she held in her moans as she orgasmed.

"Professor Harris, I want you to fuck me right now," Isabel whispered in a lust-filled voice.

"Is that so?" I said. I pulled Isabel's head back and kissed her hard on the lips. I shoved my tongue in her mouth before she could catch her breath. She melted into my arms completely and I had to support her or she would've fallen over.

"Yes, yes," she said. "I even brought this ..." she said. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a tube of lubricant, the same kind I used on Saturday night.

"It's too risky for that here," I said. "If you're serious you know where to come to tonight. If you don't, don't ever come by here again. Do you understand?"

Isabel nodded her head and smiled. She fixed her hair and straightened her rumpled clothing before leaving my office. I could hear her footsteps down to the end of the hall. I was anxious to find out if she was serious about her offer or not. 

That evening Isabel came over as she promised. This time there was no resistance or hesitation on either of our parts. Don't doubt me, Isabel was still my whore. She begged to be fucked, but it was all in my good time. The evening flew by in one protracted bout of sexual excess punctuated by occasional breaks to catch our breath.

Shortly after that evening Isabel ended it with Eric Langford, the star football player. That began a year long affair with Isabel of what seemed like non-stop intercourse. In that time I managed to finish my book and publish three articles, but the consuming passion in my life was Isabel and her sweet body that willingly did my bidding. It only ended after Isabel left Libertyville to study overseas the next summer.

Before we feel too bad for Eric, he lost no time in finding somebody to replace Isabel. He could be seen around campus with half a dozen different girls following him and hanging on his every word. His junior year football season cemented his stature in Libertyville history. Throughout the season he made the key plays and touchdowns that led the team to a 14-2 record. Eric decided to skip his senior year and entered the NFL draft. Picked somewhere in the middle rounds he eventually made a team and after surviving training camp and its numerous cuts, he went on to perform admirably well during his rookie year. He didn't set any records but he was definitely a good pick. I believe now he's dating a centerfold.

As for me, I moved to a more prestigious and larger university. I have another four well-received articles under my belt and my second book is being edited. I haven't come across another Isabel, but I'm keeping my eyes open. I think this time I'll stay away from the student pool, that was way too risky last time and I've got a good thing going here. I've got to run – I hear the department secretary coming down the hall. She's got a set of legs that won't quit and an ass to die for. I think I'll see if she wants to come over this evening for some wine. 



Making the Grade



It was difficult to know how to categorize this one—there are elements of interracial relations, non-consensual sex, and it turns out (at least, I think) pretty erotic—ergo, the reason it ended up in 'erotic couplings.' So just be warned, if those aforementioned elements aren't your pleasure, you may want to stop reading now. If, however, you are even the slightest bit intrigued...then please continue reading, and I hope it's as enjoyable to you as it was to me and mine.

*

It'd been a helluva day, the kind that makes every nerve scream for release. Final exams were coming up all around the college campus, and everyone was under immense pressure, most noticeably the seniors in my literature course and the freshmen in my basic composition courses. Exhausted from the daily grind of classes, help sessions and the added burden of panicked students, I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with a good book, but with the stack of papers still awaiting grades, it just wasn't to be.

With a sigh and a glass of wine, I settled into the corner of my couch, feet propped up, bowl of m&m's within easy reach, and started working through freshman compositions. An hour later, six papers had been reviewed, graded, and filled with compliments or suggestions. The stack seemed to have barely moved at all.

Rubbing the dull stabbing pain which had settled into the center of my forehead, I laid my head back, mentally bargaining with myself. I finally decided that in return for a hot, soapy candlelit shower, I would persevere through at least half of the stack of papers. Once again I'd miss out on some much-needed sleep, but a steamy-hot shower would be worth it.

Uncurling from the couch, I stood up, stretching onto tiptoe with a muffled groan. Muscles I didn't even know I had were achy and tight. The wall mirror reflected a tall, curvy redhead in a baggy t-shirt and loose sweatpants, but as usual, I never even glanced at the reflective glass. I still saw myself as overweight and frumpy, and avoided mirrors out of habit. Although my workout habits had improved greatly since grad school, I was too busy and too tired to look for dates, causing my newly toned body to go unnoticed – by either me or anyone else, so I assumed. 

Stopping to pour some cat food into Gator's empty dish, I loaded the Rippingtons into the stereo, then snagged a clean towel out of the laundry basket, mentally adding "fold clothes" to an ever-growing list of summer chores. Humming softly to the upbeat instrumentals drifting through my small house, I lit a few select candles and placed them around the sink ledge and various shelves in my bathroom. Finally I adjusted the water spray pouring from the chrome showerhead, and dropped my comfy, stay-at-home clothes to the floor, using the small pile of fabric to prop the bathroom door open. A soothing interplay of guitar and piano filled the dimly-lit room as I stepped under the warm, cascading spray.

As the strains of "Tourist in Paradise" trickled into the bath, I could feel the stresses of the day slither down the drain. The muscles in my neck relaxed, unknotted by the thrumming pulse of water. Lathering coconut scented shampoo through my hair, I unconsciously began to shimmy my hips in time to the music. As the toasted vanilla scent of body wash mingled with the tropical scent of shampoo, I ran soapy hands along my body, feeling the curvy profile I'd reacquired from relentless trips to the gym—but the mental image was the same old frumpy form I'd become accustomed to. 

As the music segued from one lively tune to the next, my hands began to explore more and more of my wet, relaxed body, using the soap as a lubricant to slide from one slippery slope to the next. Head back, I held my hair directly under the water, its natural curl straightened by the water's weight. Twisting my head slightly, I could feel the slick wet caress of my own hair against my waist, and the sheer sensuousness of that act made me bite back a moan of pleasure. Between my divorce and the demands of grad school, I'd become an expert at pleasuring myself, and sometimes the most seemingly innocent sensations could arouse me to incredible heights. And yes, my favorite place to find relief was under the hot, soapy spray of a leisurely shower. Some weeks I gave new meaning to "squeaky clean"!!

With a last fanning rinse, I turned back under the spray and readjusted the setting, my knees almost buckling as pinpoints of water slammed against my sensitive nipples. Already aroused, this new sensation made them harden to eager, cherry-colored points on those ample white breasts. Arching my back to offer more of my breasts to this self-inflicted torment, I braced one hand on the slick tiled wall, while the other slipped down to the clean-shaven furrow between my long, toned legs.

Stepping one foot up onto the side of the tub, I cupped her fingers and aimed this gentled plume of water onto my aching, throbbing clitoris, the heat and waterfall-like sensation sending me through a shuddering climax which only left me hungry for more. Mentally commanding myself to finally invest in that hand-held showerhead I'd begun eyeballing, I focused on the streams of water cascading along my length, shivering in pleasure as those heated streams of water caressed me from head to toe, their trickling path teasing and arousing everything from swollen nipples to the slippery, engorged lips of my quivering pussy, and only adding to my deep and aching need to be filled by cock.

Leaning carefully out of the shower, I reached around the corner to the shelf where my toy was hidden away, concealed by towels and toiletries but easily located by the knowledgeable groping hand. Long, thick, and black, it was everything my pussy craved, even as my mind and heart begged for the warm, creamy feel of a man's cum. Holding it tenderly as I would a lover, I caressed my body with this pleasure-toy, sliding it along neck, shoulders, and especially between my breasts. I rubbed it against my nipples, hissing as the engorged points swelled even more in anticipation of the fucking to come.

Positioning the fat rubber cock against the showerhead, I licked and stroked and sucked it, closing my eyes and imagining that I was servicing my lover in a torrential downpour, music tumbling out of a nearby café, both he and I exposed to the elements as I struggled to fit 'his' 8" black dick down my throat. With a moan of pleasure I felt the rubber base against my lips, and trembled as my pussy dripped juice down my thighs. 

A blush of shame crept up my cheeks as I involuntarily put a face to my imaginary lover's body, whimpering his name around the impressive dick filling my mouth. I knew I shouldn't think of my students in such a way, but from the first day of class when I'd looked up and met his sexy, smiling gaze, I had felt an attraction the likes of which I had never experienced before. His dark skin and melted-chocolate eyes made me agonizingly aware of myself as a woman, each nerve ending jumping to attention whenever he was near. Going to class each period was both heaven and hell, for as much as I looked forward even to seeing him, I knew I could do nothing to act on this attraction, not only because the college forbid faculty/student relations, but I disliked the idea of professors having sex with students. Even if the student in question was sexy, funny, and very, very smart. 

I sighed. I'd compromised my principles much too far just in looking up his age, which I had no business knowing. Discovering that he was less than a year older than me only added to his allure. This gorgeous man was no simple fraternity wanna-be, stumbling over his own tongue in order to please the teacher. Thomas Beaumont was self-assured, entertaining, and as sophisticated as any Fortune 500 CEO could ever hope to be. He was, in essence, everything that would never, ever dream of taking a second look at the woman reflected back to me in my living room mirror. But despite my best intentions I trembled whenever he walked into the classroom, and moaned his name while pleasuring myself, imagining my toy to be his thick, dark cock. 

Pulling myself back to the present, I slid the rubber cock from my mouth, lovingly kissing and caressing it, losing myself to the imaginary scene playing out my mind, where the two of us were outside that café, caught in that drenching downpour...and caught up in each other. As I slipped my sexy black toy down to my quivering, cream-coated pussy, I pretended that his fist was tangled in my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my face to the pounding rain, while his lips moved in whispers I could see but not hear, tormenting me with elusive promises. As water poured over my upturned face, I slipped the toy inside my aching pussy, seating it deeply in one smooth thrust, his name sputtering off my lips as my flushed body convulsed in pleasure. I begged Tommy to ravage me, pleaded with him to make love to me, and gushed juice all over my toy and down my thighs as I quivered and creamed and trembled through a firestorm of desire.

Still rocking on waves of pure sensation, I was unaware that I had gained a visitor. At the first touch of skin on skin, my eyes flew open in total shock. As I coughed and sputtered the water I'd accidentally tried to inhale, I was spun around to once again face the showerhead, the pounding spray tormenting my sensitized nipples. Finally regaining my breath I opened my mouth to scream, but a large hand clamped over it, its large, strong mate firmly pressing against my stomach to hold me still, while a soft, deep voice warned me to not make a sound.

Still trembling with aftershocks from my nearly-interrupted orgasm, I couldn't help but quiver at the feel of the obviously masculine body wrapped around me, combined with the feel of my toy still filling up my quivering, aching pussy. Unable to control myself, I pressed back against the stranger's body, feeling a firm chest against my shoulder blades, muscular legs slightly longer than my own, and an increasingly interested cock that was nudging its way into the cleft of my soap-slicked butt. The feel of an aroused male body standing so close, actually touching me after such a long abstinence set my blood on fire. My moan was of pure pleasure, but my captor mistook it as one of fear.

Sliding his mouth to the curve of my ear, he murmured that if I was a good girl, I wouldn't get hurt. He just wanted a taste of that sweet, creamy pussy, then he'd be on his way. Sliding his hand up so that his thumb rested between my full breasts and his long fingers cupped a soft, heavy globe, he leaned forward, growling in pleasure at my peaked nipple, already flushed in response. 

I gasped as a length of cloth was tied around my face, covering my eyes. The smell of my own perfume gave away that it was my discarded t-shirt being used as a blindfold, the sodden fabric making it impossible to see anything. My breath trembled with stirrings of fear, even as my hungry pussy flushed in eager anticipation. When my captor reached down and dragged my toy from my pussy, I groaned in dismay...and trembled with every inch, until at last the very tip passed through my lips making me struggle to avoid exploding in a mind-bending orgasm. My captor chuckled, knowing my response.

Completely blinded and totally dependent on this unknown man invading my shower, I mewled in confusion. My mind screamed at me to fight, but my body remembered the feel of being pressed up against that firm male flesh, and it begged me to stay and see what happened. I acknowledged that the man's hands were gentle, his voice deep but not menacing, and that he could have done far worse than blindfold me had he wanted to do so, but I had lived alone and been self-sufficient for far too long to become submissive too easily.

Being blindfolded in my own shower was really no trial, since I closed my eyes every time I washed my hair, and was therefore very familiar with the layout of my shower space. Taking a quick moment to orient myself, I reached forward and picked up both my scrubbie and my shower soap, thinking to squirt the soap into my attacker's eyes, blinding him at least long enough for me to remove the blindfold and have a fighting chance. Leaning forward to reach them pressed my wet, slippery butt up hard against his arousal, so I merely hoped that he would be too focused on that sensation to worry too much what I was up to. I knew that for myself, I was fighting an attack of the pleasurable quivers at the feel of his thickness nudging against my still throbbing pussy. 

My hopes of keeping my attacker distracted were destroyed when he chuckled, reached around me, and cupped his hands over mine, his long fingers manipulating mine into opening the soap, squeezing it out onto the scrubbie, then rubbing that soft, netted cloth over my trembling skin. Oh, how erotic! The feel of his hands guiding mine, controlling mine, his fingers entangling with mine to brush against my soft skin...all of it made me moan, and as was habit, the name that rolled off my lips was Tommy's. 

The sexy male body behind me tensed in disapproval. A growl hissed in my ear as those long, strong fingers crushed mine, the soft scrubbie now scraping over my skin. I mewled in fright, not understanding what I had done to merit this reaction. Whimpering in both fear and pain, I began babbling apologies, pleading with my captor to let me go, to stop hurting me, promising I'd do anything he asked.

This only seemed to incite him further. Spinning me around, he roughly shoved me up against the shower wall, making me gasp as my breasts were flattened against cold blue tiles. Grasping both of my wrists in one hand, he positioned me so that I was slightly bent in front of him, back arched to give him full access to my rounded, soapy butt. The soap and water did nothing to cushion his blows, but rather made them sting more. The sharp slap of his palm against my creamy flesh echoed throughout the room, and after the forth or fifth spanking, my cries echoed off the walls as well.

When he leaned over me to force my legs apart, I naively hoped he was making sure I wouldn't slip, although I could feel his chest rising and falling with excitement. It wasn't until his next slap landed directly on my pussy that I realized the extent of my own arousal, as my knees buckled and I came, gushing all over his hand, undisputable proof of my own pleasure in this whole situation.

With a low laugh of dark pleasure, my captor slowly slid his hand along the quivering length of my cunt, up over my rounded butt and onto my back, in what would have resembled a lover's caress in any other situation. Straightening me up, he guided me back under the water, lifting my arms up and over the showerhead brace, once again capturing both wrists in his large, capable hands. Reaching up, he redirected the spray to a mist and aimed it at my breasts, watching as the sparkling droplets of water beaded over my pale skin and ran together in streams off my dusky pink nipples. I didn't have to see to know he was watching – I could feel his eyes on my breasts as surely as if I had been watching his face. Aroused beyond belief, and humiliated by my own sensuous reaction to what should have been construed as rape had I not been so responsive to it, I moaned and arched my back, silently begging him to look at more of me, find pleasure in me, respond to me.

I quivered when I felt his hand behind my thigh, sliding down to my knee, which he lifted until my leg was draped around his waist, my creamy wet cunt fully open and caressing the bottom side of his hard dick where it rose between us. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself – I started rubbing against him. My hungry pussy had been without a real man in so long it scared me to think about it, and my anxious body overrode the warnings of my usually-cautious mind, until all that mattered was getting this thick, hard slab of meat inside me, where it belonged. My juices coated his balls as they spilled from my aching pussy, and he moaned. 

Lost in my own fantasy world and controlled by the desires of my traitorous flesh, I leaned my head back, balanced precariously on my toes, and somehow managed to angle myself so that his big, hard dick was sliding right up into my wet, willing pussy. Tommy's name trembled off my lips in a quiver of longing as I imagined him to be my attacker, and visualized not a rape, but a kinky sex game. Wrapping my fingers around his and holding tight to the showerhead bracket, I lifted my other leg to wrap around his waist as well, fully impaled on his throbbing dick. I locked my ankles around his back and rode him for dear life, chanting Tommy's name over and over, too far gone to care what punishment this would result in.

I stiffened as I heard my name slide off my attacker's lips, a strangled moan as his hips rocked against mine. Struggling, I tried to free my hands, but only resulted in almost sending both of us crashing to the bottom of the slippery tub. With a chuckle, my captor reached up and untied my blindfold, the wet fabric falling with a squish to the side of the tub as I stared in shock into the melted chocolate eyes of my fantasy man, here in the flesh, inside my shower...inside me! 

Taking advantage of my bewildered state, Tommy merely grinned, lifted his fingers from between mine, and gripped my hips instead. Cautioning me to hold on tight, he proceeded to pound me mercilessly, driving his dark dick deeper into my pussy than anything had ever been before. While the mist poured over us both, my own juices cascaded over him as I milked him deep into me, my quivering muscles begging him to fill me.

Taking small, careful steps, Tommy pressed against me until I was pinned tightly between his hot, sexy body at my front, and that cold tile wall at my back. This new angle allowed him to reach other unexplored spots inside of me, as well as giving him better leverage to get even deeper into me. I was in heaven. Still gripping the bracket for safety, I leaned forward and kissed him hard and deep, like I'd imagined so many times in that crowded classroom. As our tongues swirled together, the room began to swim around me, fireworks exploding deep inside me, my pussy on fire as I felt him explode as well. My world went grey, and then black.

The next thing I remember, I was curled up in my bed, covered by my soft blue blanket, naked as the day I was born... and being watched by the sexiest eyes imaginable. Dragging my hair out of my eyes, I cringed at the tangled mess I was sure my wet curls had dried into. A flush colored my cheeks as I remembered how wantonly I had acted with this man – this student – in my own shower. As remembered images of my unbridled response to his touch careened through my head, I buried my face in his shoulder, mortified, my voice muffled as I explained that I really don't do this kind of thing, especially not with my students. And never this wholeheartedly. I was sure he must think me a whore for my reactions both when he was my captor, and again when he was face-to-face with me as my lover. I swore to never leave this bed again.

Laughing softly, Tommy slipped a finger under my chin and raised my eyes to meet his. The electric charge that rippled through me was breathtaking, and set every nerve ending on alert. He watched the shivers race over my skin, saw the fire heating my eyes, and groaned in pleasure. Whatever he had been about to say was forgotten as he leaned down to kiss me, his body partially covering mine, dark skin barely brushing against me—and I surged up to make that last contact, needing to feel him on me, against me, in me. 

Catching him by surprise, I was able to flip him onto his back. I kissed my way across his chest, caressing every part of him I possibly could with my legs, my hands, my breasts. I straddled his hips, trapping him between us, letting him feel again how very wet he gets me. Feeling sexy despite my appalling lack of self-confidence, I arched my back, lifting my elbows high and running my hands through my hair, giving him ample time to look at what he was getting, from the curve of my hip to the indent of my waist, the slope of my breast to the mass of tangled curls covering my forehead. While his eyes devoured me, his hands caressed my legs, my thighs, the sparse curls above my swollen pussy. 




Making the Grade



Holding my waist, he lifted me up—and held me suspended over his throbbing dick for what seemed like eternity, making my breath catch and my body burn, before finally settling me down onto his long, thick cock, pushing down on my hips until I swore he was going to tear me in two. When I felt his entire length completely inside me, I gasped in surprise. I had never felt so full, so stretched, even in the shower. I loved it. A heated glance into his eyes showed a similar tightening there, a reflection of my own indescribable passion. And I thought I saw a glimmer of emotion pass just below the surface...and emotion I wasn't sure I was ready to define yet.

Leaning forward, I grasped his wrists in my hands, and tucked them over his head. This made me stretch out some as I rocked back and forth on his cock, and left my breasts very conveniently at face level. With a grin, he proceeded to show me how I only thought I was in charge...and as I rode him hard, slamming my wet, gushing pussy down onto his dick again and again and screaming his name in pleasure, he noisily and enthusiastically worshipped my breasts, licking and sucking and nibbling them until I couldn't take that sweet torment any more. As soon as I released his hands, he shoved me upright, murmuring soft, sweet, sexy words that drove me higher and higher, his hard length completely encased by my tight, wet sheath. 

With a quick tug on my nipples that wrenched a cry of passion/pain from me, he pushed me back just a little bit further, until I was splayed open for him, riding him in a bouncy, grinding movement that was nearly my undoing. Taking advantage of my position, he slid his fingers between us, rubbing and pinching on my clit, sending sparks shooting off through my brain, and causing me to not just gush, but to spray and splash him with my juices, coating him from chin to groin in my pleasure. Hips jerking uncontrollably, body rocking back and forth on wave after wave of pure sensation, I moaned and whimpered and gasped his name, riding a high that I had never dreamed existed, much less ever expected to find myself on.

Opening my eyes, I looked down into that sexy face beneath me...and at the evidence of my pleasure, I felt Tommy tighten up. Grasping my shoulders, he pulled me down, kissing me so passionately that I felt my heart melt. With a hand on my hip, he rolled us over until he was on top, and lifting my legs over his shoulders, proceeded to drive deep into me. Our lips still locked, tongues entwined, he slowed the pace, tormenting me – and himself – with soft, gentle thrusts. At last he muffled a cry against my lips, and I felt him tense and flood me with a creamy load of cum, deep inside me, in a spot only he had ever reached. 

Sweating, panting, softly nibbling each other in absolute pleasure, we relaxed in the soft glow of incredible sex, still joined together. My papers and the fact of his being one of my students were both conveniently forgotten as we snuggled together, whispering soft words and enjoying each other as a man and woman do. I wasn't about to let him out of my bed, now that he was in it, and he didn't seem overly inclined to go, either, so we spent the rest of the night curled up in the soft comfort of my bedroom, laughing and loving the night away. I refused to deal with any questions I may have about this until morning, taking tonight for just me...for just us...knowing in my heart that I was already his, for as long as he wanted me.



Making the Grade



Jenny Saunders never failed a class before. She was panicing, convinced her grades were going to drop to far for her to make it to University.

"What am I going to do?" She thought to herself. "I need to get my score up. Maybe Mr. Anders will let me do some extra work to get it up."

She walked to Mr. Anders office and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" called Mr. Anders from the inside.

"It's Jenny Saunders, can I talk to you please?" The door opened.

"Ms. Saunders, what can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you about my grade." Jenny said sheepishly.

"Come on in." Mr. Anders shut the door as Jenny walked in the room. He motioned her to sit down. And also took his seat. "What's the matter, Ms. Saunders?"

"I um... failed... I need to get this mark up."

"I can't just change your final score for you."

"Please, I'll do anything."

Mr. Anders paused.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Mr. Anders grinned. 

"Well Ms. Saunders, since you seem to be so willing to get your grade changed. I guess there is one thing you can do for me." Mr. Anders grin grew.

Jenny grew nervous. "What?"

"I want you to take that cute little top of yours off for starters."

Jenny gasped.

"Oh come on Jenny. What's it going to matter if your grade falls?"

"This... this is wrong."

"Maybe, that doesn't really matter to me right now."

"I'm going to fucking report you to the principle!" Jenny stood up and began walking to the door.

"You can do that. And you'll still fail." Jenny paused. "And you won't make it into university. What will you do then?"

"You bastard."

"Yep. Why don't you come back over here."

Jenny turned. She thought about what she was being asked to do. She thought about what she could do. She wanted to go to university. She would have to do this."

"I don't have all day Ms. Saunders."

Jenny bit her lower lip and began to unbutton her blouse. A tear ran down her cheek.

"Yes, that's it Ms. Saunders. Show your body to me. Let me see it." Mr. Anders began to rub his cock through his pants.

Jenny finished unbuttoning her blouse and slid it off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor.

"Yes Ms. Saunders, look at you... standing her in your office with your shirt on the floor. But I need more. Your skirt... or your bra. It's your choice.

Jenny was terrified. Her teacher was blackmailing her into sex. Forcing her to strip in front of him while he watched. Rubbing his cock. More tears ran down her face.

"What's wrong Ms. Saunders. Why are you crying? There's no reason to. All I'm going to do is enjoy your body. I'll make it fun for you too." Mr. Anders face darkened. "Now, take off the skirt, or your bra, or else I'm going to remove one for you."

Jenny began to panic. She reached to the back of her skirt and unzipped it. Her skirt fell to the floor and she stepped out of it.

Mr. Anders smiled.

"That's good Ms. Saunders, now come over here." Jenny bit her lip harder. "Mr. Saunders, don't make me come over there."

Jenny stepped over to Mr. Anders. He reached behind her and pulled her towards him. One of his hands fondling her ass, the other playing with her breasts. His hard cock dug into her soft belly. She began to cry more now.

"Mr. Saunders, if you don't stop crying right now. I'll give you a reason to cry." 

Jenny began to cry a little more.

"You asked for it you little bitch."

Mr. Anders grabbed Jenny and bent her over his desk. He grabbed her panties and pulled them halfway down her legs. Tears were streaming down Jenny's face now.

"You wanna know what's a nice thing about my office Ms. Saunders?" She turned and looked at him. "It's completely soundproof. So you can scream as loud as you want.

And with that his hand hit her ass hard.

"OW!" Jenny cried, she looked at Mr. Anders.

"Please stop."

"Stop? I haven't even began."

His hand hit her other check.

"DAMNIT!"

"Heh. I like the way you scream."

His hand hits her ass again.

"Do you like being spanked you filthy bitch?"

"Please stop. I don't want this to happen."

"Let me think about it." His hand impacts with her ass again. "No."

"Oh god..." Jenny began to cry even more. She knew she was going to be raped. She knew she was humiliated. She just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry for hours.

Mr. Anders hand hit her again. This time his hand stayed on her ass, caressing it.

"Oh Ms. Saunders. Your ass hand my handprint all over it. It's all red and tender now."

Mr. Anders hand began slide down her ass, moving in between her legs.

"Please, not there."

Mr Anders smiled, his fingers rubbing Jenny's pussy.

"I like your pussy Ms. Saunders, you're nice and hairless."

Mr. Anders hand kept moving up and down her pussy in smooth motions. His fingers brushed her clit, Jenny shuddered.

"It seems I hit a nerve Ms. Saunders." She smiled wide at her response.

"Please stop. It's making me feel funny."

Mr. Anders leaned in close to Jenny's face.

"No."

Mr. Anders began to push his middle finger into her pussy. Slowly.

Jenny put her face in her hands, her hands becoming damp because she'd been crying so much.

Mr. Anders slowly began to slide his finger in and out of her, slowly at first then began to pick up speed. Jenny began to get wet.

"Well, well Ms. Saunders. You seem to be enjoying yourself a bit more."

"No more."

"No Ms. Saunders, there's going to be more." Mr Anders slid his index finger into her as well. Slowly he added his ring finger, his fingers moving in and out of her.

Jenny began to feel a warmth between her legs. She knew this warmth from when she played with herself at home.

"Oh god," she thought, "I'm going to cum." Jenny began to moan more now. Her pussy getting wetter and wetter.

Then Mr. Anders stopped.

"You seem to be getting a little too close to orgasm Ms. Saunders. I'm not going to let you do that."

Jenny didn't know what to do, she needed his fingers inside him. She needed him to get her off.

Jenny mumbled under her breath; "Please stick your fingers in me again."

"What was that Ms. Saunders? You want my fingers in you again?"

"Yes. Please, make me cum."

Mr. Anders coldly laughed.

"Ms. Saunders, I am not going to finger you any more. But I'll tell you what you can do, get on your knees." Jenny turned to him.

"Please finger me."

Mr. Anders grabbed her arm and twisted her so he could spank her again. He pulled her face close to his.

"Listen you dirty bitch. You're going down onto your knees, and you are going to suck my cock. Do you understand?" Jenny's eyes widened. She'd never had a cock in her mouth before.

Mr. Anders forced her to her knees. He undid his pants and pulled his dick out.

"Suck it."

Jenny just stared at it.

"I said, suck it."

"... Please, I don't want to."

"Too fucking bad."

Mr. Anders hand grabbed a handful of Jenny's hair. She began to scream at the sudden movement but she was cut short when Mr. Anders cock entered her mouth.

Mr. Anders slowly forced Jenny's head up and down on his cock. Bringing the tip to her lips and and sliding it all the way down to hit her in the back of her throat. She gagged.

"Oh come on now you slutty whore, you can do better then that."

He held her head down on his cock, pushing against her throat, causing her to gag more. Then he pulled her head up. She gasped for breath, only to be forced back down, and then being gagged again.

Mr. Anders began to increase his pace. Forcing his cock into Jenny's throat, causing her to gag constantly.

He hands moved between her legs and she began to masturbate while she had her face fucked. She didn't understand why she had to continue, but she needed to cum, and Mr. Anders wasn't fingering her anymore.

Jenny began to moan, causing her throat to vibrate around Mr. Anders cock. He began to moan.

"Oh yes Ms. Saunders, that's nice.

Jenny's fingers moved faster and faster, bringing her quickly to orgasm. The vibration was too much for him.

Mr. Anders came in Jenny's mouth. Spurt after spurt. Most of it drooled our of her mouth around his cock and drippled down her chin, then fell onto her breasts.

Mr. Anders slid his cock out of Jenny's mouth. Jenny started to gasp greedily for air.

"That was real nice Ms. Saunders. You've earned your grade. Now you've got a C-."

"All that, for a C-?" panted Jenny.

"You aren't satisfied with that, I suppose we could work something out.

Mr. Anders grinned wide.



Making The Grade



Young Cassandra looked with some satisfaction at the paper handed back to her. An "A" was inscribed there in red marker, followed somewhat enigmatically she thought, by "Please see me after class." Idly she flipped through the essay, revelling in the little compliments written in the margin. "Great use of metaphor," was one, "Excellent ironic overtone," another. Never mind that she had never intended a metaphor, let alone an ironic overtone, she pondered. If Mr. Jamieson had seen them, all the better for her. 

No, It was the hastily scribbled footnote, that had her curious. Maybe he wanted to save her paper as an example for next year's class? Shrugging, she packed up the rest of her belongings with everyone else, letting the happy if not eclectic Friday chatter swirl around her. 

Finally the bell rang and there was a frantic rush for the door. Cassandra longed to join her friends but she could hardly overlook the directive from her teacher. So instead she sat at her desk and watched him sort through some notes. His eyebrows arched in concentration, furrowing his broad forehead; he blew a lock of unruly brown hair out of his eyes from time to time. He wasn't she decided, an unattractive man!

Just as Cassandra was starting to believe he'd forgotten his note, he looked up and focused his attention on her. 

"Miss Peters, please come here." Surprised by the sternness in his voice, Cassandra walked up to his desk. His looked at her solemnly. 

"Honestly Miss Peters, I don't know what to do with you. You haven't attended seven classes this semester, and the absences aren't excused. I have to say that yes, you have turned in every assignment and to be honest, blown me away with your writing skills. However, with the end of the semester approaching I must warn you that you have only a C-minus in this class. Attendance I'm afraid, is unavoidably twenty percent of the grade." 

Cassandra gaped at him. "A C-MINUS? But Mr. Peters, my parents expect me to get into Princeton...I MUST have an A." 

Mr. Peters sighed, "I don't know what you want me to say Cassandra. Did you really expect to pass this class with flying colors based on your essays alone?" 

Cassandra bit her lip and stared at the floor. Yes, she had hoped that might be the case, she realised. The reality was just too much for her and she began to cry. 

"It wasn't my fault Mr Jamieson," she sobbed, "Mom had to spend a lot of time in hospital after the auto accident and I just needed to stay at home to help out. Dad doesn't get back till real late and I had to do the cooking....everything." Backing up to the nearest desk she slumped forlornly in the wooden chair. "You CAN'T give me a C-Minus....please!!"

He looked at her compassionately.

"They're not my rules Cassandra," he responded slowly. "They are set down by the educational bodies and however much I wish I could change them for you, I can't! I know about the accident, I know you've had it really tough at home for quite a while, but you simply never brought in those signed absentee notes I asked you for. You really have left me no choice here."

Silent tears running freely now down her pretty face she looked across at him. Even with full attendance and three more straight "A"s, the best she could hope for come end of semester was a B plus. It wasn't enough. Crying wasn't going to address the situation she realised. When 'you're desperate' she reasoned, you use whatever tools are available. 

"Won't you please reconsider Mr Jamieson," she asked softly "I'll do anything - absolutely anything you want."

The balance of power was definitely shifting. This was a situation completely outside the thirty-five year old teacher's experience. Even as he responded, the uncertainty in his voice was evident.

"Are you meaning what I think you're meaning Cassandra?" he all but stuttered.

She just stared hard at the desktop. "I have to get an "A" in English Mr Jamieson, don't you understand that? I have to"

He looked at her with a kaleidoscope of emotions running unchecked through his grey matter. Despite the fact he was a decent man with a strong moral fiber, the truth was he now realised, that Cassandra appealed to him over and above that which might be considered appropriate in any teacher-student relationship. Whilst he had never actually gotten to the stage of contemplating any sort of marital infidelity in the past, he had to admit that on more than one occasion, the sight of this particular student's curvy little bottom exiting the classroom, had imprinted itself on his subconcscious.

"I don't think that is really what you want Miss Peters," he announced with little assurance, realising even as he spoke, that the statement made no reference to any reticence from his own standpoint. If any retreat had been planned - no one had mentioned it to the cavalry!

The girl stood up and was staring at her teacher with a mixture of embarrassment and trepidation.

"We could both be dismissed, you know?" he muttered. She nodded but took no backward step. The prominent blush in her cheeks he found most attractive.

"Think maybe I had better take some precautions," he added nervously, intentionally avoiding all eye contact as he walked past her, to the far end of the room, whereupon he turned the key in the lock.

Having regained the relative security of his own desk, he sat in the chair and motioned to Cassandra to step forward. Hands at her sides, she approached him. 

Observing the girl more with studious appraisal than any lustful intent, he took in her slim figure, pretty rather than overt breasts, beautiful facial features that at just eighteen now, had blossomed to technical adulthood. She looked considerably younger he mused. Patting his knee, he extended an arm towards her.

Sensing his own extreme lack of confidence under the circumstances, she allowed herself to be drawn down on to his lap, where the playing field was anything but level, she couldn't help but notice. As her flush deepened and he in turn became aware of the reason for such, he decided that time was of the essence. Galvanised into action by a combination of her youthful femininity and the sensation of so sexy a little bottom atop his crotch, he allowed himself the luxury of slipping an arm around her waist. 

He felt her tense-up but figuring this was no time to be indecisive, slipped his hand upwards and enclosing the girl's entire right breast, squeezed the softness within. Letting out a shocked gasp she instinctively pulled his hand away.

"I think the words you used were 'I'll do absolutely ANYTHING you want' were they not Cassandra?" 

"I'm sorry.....nerves I guess Mr Jamieson," she muttered "I've never done anything like this before." She allowed him to restore contact with her breast and even as he began to grope her gently she felt the adrenaline kick-in. The feeling wasn't wholly unpleasant she had to admit.

"Are you still a virgin then m'dear?" he asked tremulously, the sensation of squeezing this particular teenage student's hot little breasts rendering him positively light-headed

"Uh huh!" she replied, her eyes watching as both his hands now felt her up with a growing confidence. Whatever that physiological reaction was manifesting itself between her legs, it was nothing she could classify as a hardship.

"You are such a pretty girl Cassandra," he whispered, "I'm not hurting you doing this am I?" 

"No Mr Jamieson, its OK," she replied.

"Oh and you needn't refer to me as 'Mr Jamieson' any more either," he smiled at her. "Hardly appropriate under the circumstances is it?" he added. "Just call me Craig."

For a moment or two silence reigned as he continued fondling the girl's breasts increasingly aware of her unforced arousal, courtesy of those delightfully hardening nipples that her thin blouse was doing less than nothing to shield from his finger exploratory.

"May I kiss you?" he asked her suddenly.

Simply the bizarre attending circumstances - a young female student being sexually assaulted on the knee of a way older teacher and he asks her for a kiss? - made her involuntarily giggle. The humor of the moment was cut short however as their lips met. 

Kissing though not unfamiliar to the girl, had been limited to a few close friends of her own age - girls and boys if the truth be known. Never though had she experienced such familiarity with a man in his thirties and thus despite both the age-difference and the inappropriate scholastic connections, she had to admit this was a step-up in class.

From Craig's viewpoint, this surely was the epitome of every male fantasy. Groping unrestrictedly a sexy teenage girl while kissing her hard on the lips, even as her bottom continued playing havoc with his procreative equipment-in-waiting....they don't write better screenplays! 

Beginning now to undo the top few buttons of her blouse, she gasped softly as he exposed her low-cut bra and dynamically arousing cleavage, A frilly little number, more concerned with fashion than support one assumes, it was the work of but a moment to slip his fingers inside her left cup. She gave a little gasp as they brushed across her engorged nipple and was fully unable to prevent a blush from coloring her cheeks. 

He wasn't looking at her cheeks though and using either hand now, began manipulating both nipples which achieved two things. Her bra was of course worked low enough that both breasts were almost fully exposed to his vitally interested gaze and her fine dark nipples became even more distended as his fingers worked their dexterous magic.

As for Cassandra she could hardly believe she was sitting willingly on a man's lap, pretty much topless, allowing herself to be molested at will. Of greater concern, her body seemed in no hurry to be sending out May Day calls. If she didn't know better it was relishing this newly come-by learning curve.

"May as well take these off," he murmured to no-one in particular, as he undid the rest of the buttons before peeling off her blouse and tossing it on his desk. Even as he unhooked her bra and began pulling the straps down her arms Cassandra just sat there, justifiably proud of her firm young breasts that freed now of their social constraints drew an appreciative if not limited audience. 

Inclining his head, he had barely even closed the gap between lip and nipple when she pushed him back firmly. "Noo, you can't do that.....Craig," she admonished.

"Oh I think I CAN Cass," he smiled, "You're not even close to a C plus yet!"

Reluctantly she withdrew her arm and sat there rather prettily he observed - an obedient fourth grader, waiting for permission to read aloud her essay.

As he first kissed her breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue, she let out a small whimper, beginning to wriggle on his lap in embarrassment. Craig however was far from embarrassed and as the texture of her nipple combined with the vaguely milky smell of the breast itself, wholly absorbed his concentration, he began to draw down on her teat completely transported by the combination of recalled childhood comfort and the sexual arousal such an act unavoidably generated.

For her part, Cassandra found herself in a whole new ball-park - one where adults played quite obviously. Unaware she was letting out small gasps of pleasure, she held his head against her breasts as he suckled her first one side then the other. The harder he drew down, the stronger the communications being exchanged with vaginal HQ. As the messages grew more urgent she could not avoid slipping a hand onto her lap and depressing an area of her skirt that in other circumstances might be described as 'interesting,'

Fondling that which he wasn't already sucking, Craig was a man on a mission. No girl should be this sexy he decided. Wondering just how he could ever face up to her again in class he was suddenly distracted by the proximity of the girl's hand in her own lap. On little more than auto-pilot, he slipped his hand up beneath her skirt - she was after all sitting almost side-saddle. 

This most assuredly brought a reaction.

"Nooo, not up THERE...please!" Her sharp intake of breath, shocked expression and rapid closure of her legs might in other circumstances have acted as some deterrent, but when a man has just about blown his wad sucking a girl's bare breasts while she wriggles sexily on his knee, you really can't expect a total withdrawal of all active troops. Besides there was unfortunately for Cassandra, an unfulfilled contract to see out, and of which she was quickly reminded.

"If a B Minus is enough for you m'dear, we'll call it a day then," he smirked at her. "Your choice sweetheart!"

Even as her legs parted, at least to the extent that her tight little skirt would permit, a delicate frown flitted across her face. "You really shouldn't be doing this Craig," she muttered. "I only meant for you to have a feel."

"Well that's all I'm doing Cassandra," he grinned, insinuating his hand well up between her thighs where the heat was - if not volcanic....a tad on the warm side. The blush returned and with now the twin pleasures of seeing the young girl's breasts jiggling each time she wriggled her hips, as well as the hem of her skirt riding high up her legs, he was made even more aware of his pained erection that was struggling for survival in that land-locked cavity beneath her bottom. That she must have been aware of the caged serpent on hand could not be in doubt.

In fact Cassandra was cognizant of Craig's little problem and despite herself, the imminent presence of so sexual a threat was only adding to her own escalating arousal.

His hands reached the front of her panties.....sexy little white cotton briefs that already were peeking out beneath her indecently rumpled skirt. Adding to the visual delights one couldn't help but notice, the contrast between the soft white skin of her thighs and the roll tops of those fishnet leggings she had selected to wear that morning. At the point he began rubbing her intimately, both were locked in to their respective countdowns even if they didn't yet know it.

"God Cassandra, that feels so sexy," he whispered to the young girl as she struggled emotionally to deal with what was being perpetrated upon her hitherto unchallenged innocence. Trying to balance the reality of having to allow her teacher unrestricted sexual access with the knowledge that such was inherently wrong was inhibiting her thought processes. Added to this was the realization that her body was taking extreme pleasure from his caresses and tactile indulgencies.

As he began to kiss her she felt all resistance crumbling and was even unaware she had spread her legs wider to accommodate his aggravated up-skirt therapy. 

He could feel the dampness through the thin material and rubbing her now the full depth of her vaginal ingress she was freely moaning and encouraging further interplay. Slipping a finger up beneath the leg of her panties he located the clitoral hood with little difficulty and set up a vibratory assault there which ultimately would be taking no prisoners he knew.

Completely adrift from any world she had ever known, the girl was emitting small cries of pleasure now as the pressure built to intolerable levels. "Don't stop, don't stop," she pleaded even as he fingered her to the edge of reason. 

Using two fingers, he could feel how engorged she was and how taut her young pussy had become under his relentless digital massage. The moisture on site was simply the icing on the cake - proof indeed that you really can't beat the hands-on approach.


Limited in dialog to "Ohhhh" Cassandra was suddenly lost in the perfect storm. As the shock waves eddied out in concentric circles, causing her hips and bottom to wriggle, her nipples to tingle and her pussy to bear the brunt of the ensuing seismic rift, she didn't even hear herself cry out with pleasured release.

Craig did....he was even privy to the onset of some pre-cum now overflowing rather pointlessly beneath the young girl's sexy little posterior. 

Unable to bear further stimulation temporarily, she pulled his hand out of her panties.

"That was soo incredible," she volunteered. She made as if to disengage herself from his lap.

"And where do you think you're off to young lady?" he asked her.

"Just going to put my bra and top back on," she replied.

"I think not Cass," he said, taking a hold of her arm. "What you can do though is take that hot little skirt off now...always had a hankering to see a girl your age running around my classroom in just her panties."

"That's disgusting Mr Jamieson," she gasped.

"Oh, Its back to 'Mr Jamieson' now is it?' he chided her. "Well no matter I suppose....makes it sound even sexier. Naughty student misbehaving and all."

"I'm not gonna parade around here in just my panties?" she announced defiantly. "That's totally off!"

He smiled at her, "Well, speaking of things being "off" sweetheart, although you definitely made B Plus with that last little performance, you are still adrift from any Princeton ranking I'm afraid, so I guess you're just gonna have to do what your teacher tells you. Its that or you take the B Plus. 

Aware she was trapped and without any aces left to play, she sighed and then simply unhooking the small clasp, she ran the zipper down and let the skirt fall to the floor. The now fully awesome aspect of probably the grade's prettiest student, stranded mid classroom solely in her leggings and a pair of white panties close to three sizes too small for her, almost robbed Craig Jamieson of his remaining sanity.

Trying to cover up both nipples and her rather pronounced camel toe was a task and a half. It merely drew attention however to her rampant femininity. That isn't to say Craig wasn't taking the greatest pleasure in eying off the girls unwanted predicament. Had he stood up himself though, Cassandra might have been equally fascinated by proceedings, especially those some six inches or so beneath his belt-buckle.

Indicating that she should 'approach the bench' as it were, he co-erced her verbally to return to the seat of power, taking her hand as she neared him and at the last moment having her turn around so he could admire the sculptor's work from the rear. There was much to admire. She flinched as he smoothed both hands down her cheeks taking the greatest delight in observing the line of that beautiful cleft as it sank from view beneath the waistband of her panties.- the ultimate event-horizon one might deduce. 

"Don't take them down please," she yelped as he tugged at the soft material suddenly, revealing more than half her naked bottom to his gaze. Patting her right cheek suggestively, he allowed her to pull them back up to hip level.

"Tell you what Cassandra," he said, still toying with her rear-end somewhat indecently, "I'll give you a choice. Either you take your panties off now in front of me or I let you put that skirt back on first and then I take them off for you?"

"If I let you do that Mr Jamieson, can I please go home then?" she replied none too confidently.

"We'll have to see about that sweetheart," he answered. "I guess you HAVE been a good and compliant little girl this afternoon."

Retrieving her skirt, she had no sooner zipped it up when he put his arms around her waist and pulled her too him. Fully off balance, she fell back on his lap just as his hands found their way up beneath her hem once again and began re-familiarising themselves with the architectural delights between her legs.

Her eyes closed, she allowed him to molest her unhindered.

"Stand up for me Cass," he instructed. No sooner had she done so, than he took a hold of the waistband and with his face but inches now from her curvy little rear, peeled her undies past her leggings and down to her ankles. Obligingly she stepped out of them. 




Making The Grade



"Does that feel sexy sweetheart?" he asked, "standing there in just a short skirt with no panties on?" The truth was - it did, but she was not about to share such intimate home-truths.

A full scale discussion on the subject was never even to reach gestation stage however, since his grip around her waist tightened at that moment and with the least exertion, he pulled her back on to his knee. She gave a small cry of surprise that was replaced by one of genuine shock. Straddling his knee as she now was, her parted legs revealed a hitherto unchartered actuality. Not only unzipped, her teacher's erection announced its clear intent, standing to attention there between her thighs, in honored tribute to the Star Spangled Banner quite obviously.

"No way," she cried out, You're not going to fuck me too are you?" She tried unsuccessfully to exit the playing field.

"Well Cass, I wouldn't have put it quite that indelicately," his arm around her waist tightened. "But you have latched on to the general direction of things here. Think of it as your "final exam" sweetheart. I'll be gentle." 

"Nooo...please.."she sobbed. "I'm a virgin...I could get pregnant."

Suddenly lost in some excruciatingly hot images that her words generated, he was silent for a few seconds.

"Cassandra," he responded eventually, "This isn't a multiple choice question I'm afraid. You want an "A" - you let me fuck you here and now. What's it to be? You needn't worry about pregnancy either, there are pills you know!"

Naively she hadn't even considered it might have come to this. Her tears were real and she regretted now ever embarking on such a drastic course of action. As she looked at her teacher's erection however, its very proximity was arousing to her she had to admit. Perhaps the concept was worse than the reality? Idly, she took a hold of it.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," he whispered, following up with a kiss just below her right ear. She really smelt so young and inviting.

Not too many girls lose their virginity straddling their English teacher's lap butt naked, save for a skirt of such brief proportions. In actuality, the window of opportunity as it were at that angle, favors the uninitiated as the girl is fully able to control the degree of penetration simply by spreading her legs marginally or using her feet pretty much while standing, to absorb the pressure on her hymen at any given moment. This isn't to say it didn't hurt her. Although he was true to his promise, very gentle and respectful of her virginal state, making headway was slow and Cassandra was wincing in pain up to the moment she herself relaxed sufficiently to allow him to push up finally into the promised land.

The sensations afforded her nervous system as she felt him suddenly penetrate her vagina deeply, quite outstripped his own pleasures. She eased herself lower, fascinated to see his quite large erection sinking into her most intimate of orifices with such apparent ease. She could see a few spots of blood but the pain of the past few minutes was obliterated by what he was now doing to her. 

Something less than cool calm and collected himself, after all the illicit pleasures to be had, penetrating a sexy young virgin on your lap, her bottom jiggling inches from your face while you grope her breasts stupid, - never mind her being one of your students - does have its appeal!

Establishing eventually a rhythmic upthrust, he could hear Cassandra's breathing following the same line as his own - tortured to the point of pleasurable agony. Holding her hips tightly he was entering that wonderfully tight little chasm - one that she evidently kept hairless and smooth - with increased purpose. 

"You are so sexy sweetheart," he offered up in full praise of younger women generally. "I could....."

He never got to finish the sentence as right at that moment, someone called out "Fire in the hold." 

Her eyes closed in orgasmic bliss, she felt something hot and sticky spraying deep inside her. For a full ten seconds she was unable to find the "off" switch as her vaginal muscles refused to unclamp their prey whilst her hips continued their automated downward thrusting.

The post coital experience for both protagonists was one of pleasured respiratory re-affirmation. Their systems were re-set!

Slumped in his chair up alongside the blackboard, Craig Jamieson felt all of his thirty-five years. The last thing he was expecting was the young girl to turn around, hands provocatively sliding across her glistening pussy - the ultimate Cheshire Cat....on heat!

"I'd really like to make SURE I get a straight "A" Sir!"

(c) 2006



Making the Grade



I could hardly believe it. Here I was, about to start teaching in one of the same lecture halls where I'd found myself as a wide-eyed undergrad about 10 years before. See, I had just finished my Ph.D. in European History the year before, and after a whirlwind job hunt and several interviews, had landed a lectureship at my alma mater. I knew I was at the bottom of the totem pole, and would therefore be stuck teaching all freshman classes - a sea of sleepy, gum-chewing, hair-twirling students each day - but I didn't care. It was my dream job, or at least a foot in the door towards my dream job, of being a college professor.

What I wasn't quite prepared for was the face I saw in the front row of my first class - a survey of Western Civ - that is, after he arrived 10 minutes late. Brock was the star senior quarterback of our school's football team. Even as little as I followed sports, I knew he was a campus hero, carrying the team to one of their best years in recent history. 

And here he was, sitting in the front row, obviously paying no attention to my lecture, but instead putting all of his energy into distracting me. Whenever I made eye contact with him, he'd make some lewd gesture, like spreading his legs and grabbing his crotch, or licking his lips in an unmistakably sexual way as he looked at my chest rather than my face. The nerve! I did my best to stay focused, to give a good first lecture to my new students, but I had to admit that he got under my skin. I was irritated that he thought he could get away with treating me this way, but couldn't deny that I was also, secretly, flattered. 

When I was his age, I had always been the shy, bookish type, left to fantasize about the relationship with a hot member of the football team, while some of my friends actually indulged. I guess you'd have to say that I was a bit of a late bloomer, just in the past few years gaining the confidence to wear clothes that actually flattered my shape, and occasionally ask a guy out for a drink. But even with my new-found confidence, I had to admit it was still nice to have the hot young quarterback see me as a sex object.

As the students were making their way out of the lecture hall at the end of class, he paused just long enough to whisper in my ear, "Looking forward to your next lecture, where you tell us about those tits of yours, that launched a thousand ships."

Dang, this guy was brazen. Blushing and shaking with a combination of lust and anger, I gathered up my papers and headed back to my office. Brazen, and obviously not stupid. He might not put much effort into his classes, but he had more than a few marbles rolling around upstairs. He had picked up on the fact that my name was Helen, that my next lecture would cover ancient Greece, and knew enough to come up with that witty single-entendre.

Before lecture the next day, I stopped in to see my former mentor and current boss, Dr. Anderson. He had been my favorite professor when I was an undergrad, and now, 10 years later, he was the one who had hired me. Knocking on his open door, I said, "Dr. Anderson, do you have a second?"

"Sure, Helen, please come in. And please call me John - remember, we're colleagues now!"

"Thanks, John, I appreciate it."

"So, Helen, what can I do for you - I assume your first lecture went well yesterday?"

"Well, yes, but I have a problem I'm hoping you can help me with. Brock..."

"Yes, I should have given you some advance warning that he'd be in your class. See, you must understand the pressure we're all under to make sure he keeps his eligibility."

"Well," I said, already disappointed at the direction this conversation was taking, "but he's a serious distraction in class, waltzing in late, not paying attention, am I supposed to just let him skate by with that kind of behavior?"

"Let me put it this way, Helen. You can handle it any way you'd like, whether it's to tell him not to come to class, or to put in the extra hours to figure out how to make it work, but the bottom line is, he needs to pass your class. He's a bright young man, which unfortunately just makes it worse - he has a fine understanding of the position we're in."

I couldn't claim total naivete in these matters - after all, I'd been around colleges for all of my adult life, and had even experienced pressure as a grad student to round up grades for athletes enrolled in my classes, but nothing quite so blatant as the instructions I'd just received from my department chair.

I decided to make the most of it. After all, I hadn't been able to get Brock out of my head since he'd whispered sexy nothings in my ear the day before. Last night, I found myself fantasizing about him as I fingered my clit and plunged my vibrator deep into my pussy. If this was how he wanted to play it, I was willing to play along, as long as it didn't get in the way of teaching the rest of my class.

After enduring another lecture in which every glance at Brock brought another lewd gesture my way, I asked him to come to my office hours that afternoon to discuss his performance in my class. He agreed, leaving me with a brush of his hand against my tit when nobody was looking. My lunch in the cafeteria and the next few hours working in my office were a bit of a blur as I thought about what to do. By the time Brock knocked on my door, I thought I had a plan. 

He was dressed differently than he had been this morning, obviously now on his way to practice in sweats. As I welcomed him into my office and he closed the door behind him, I quickly realized how impressive his physique really was - 6'3", and probably about 200 pounds of solid muscle.

"So, Helen, you wanted to see me?"

I pondered suggesting to him that he shouldn't call me by my first name until I gave him that permission, but figured I'd let it go - bigger battles to fight with this stubborn young man.

"Yes, and I'll get right to the point. You know I have no choice but to pass you, so you can get away with anything in my class. But your behavior in class is making me extremely uncomfortable, and making it difficult for me to teach the rest of my students. Plus, I know you're intelligent enough to do well if you just put in some effort. Believe it or not, I'd actually like you to learn something."

"Uh huh," he said with a smile, obviously pleased at his ability to cause trouble in the classroom.

"So I have a proposal for you." I slowly unbuttoned my blouse as I spoke. "How about, instead of coming to class, you come to my office for an hour each day for a private tutoring session. I can do my best to teach you a few things, and you can actually follow through on seducing me."

I had obviously caught him off guard, but he wasn't shocked enough to miss the opportunity. Stepping closer to me and cupping my breasts in his hands, he replied, "Sounds like a plan to me. Where should we start?"

"Well, I was thinking we could jump ahead to the French Revolution. There's the interesting controversy over what Marie Antionette really meant when she said, 'Let them eat cake.'

"I know what I'd like to eat," Brock replied, thankfully taking the rather obvious bait just as I'd hoped he would. 

He grabbed my ass and hoisted me up onto my desk, pushing my skirt up as he did so, and got down on his knees, positioning himself directly in front of my already-wet panties. With a tenderness that surprised me, coming from this young jock, he stroked my inner thighs with his fingertips, gradually working towards, and then pushing aside, my panties. I groaned as his fingers first reached my pussy lips. He quickly spread them apart and attacked my pussy with his tongue.

I arched my back in pleasure as he moved his tongue to my clit, and began pressing two fingers into my pussy. Letting my weight fall back onto the desk, I grabbed his head with both hands and encouraged his motions on my clit. His fingers, meanwhile, were doing just fine without my guidance, jutting quickly in and out of my dripping pussy. As my orgasm approached, I struggled to keep from crying out, and hissed at him, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming. Don't stop until I cummmmmmmmmmmmmmm!"

He rode each wave of pleasure, keeping his tongue on my clit as I bucked my hips and fucked his fingers. When I finally recovered, I knew it was time to return the favor, and stood up from the desk just long enough to get down on my knees in front of him. He had stood up and stripped, and his half-hard cock was already large enough to cause me to gasp.

Referring both to the orgasm he had just given me and the impressive size of his cock, I mouthed the word 'wow' to him just before sucking the tip into my mouth. After circling it a few times with my tongue, I took a few inches of his length into my mouth, cupping his balls with both hands as I began to move back and forth as much as I could without gagging. He really was huge, and I began to seriously question whether my pussy could handle his cock.

As this thought made me grow wet, he gently grabbed my head and began guiding my motions on his cock, and I let him take control, finding that I could handle more of his length than I realized. I let go of his balls and instead wrapped my hands around his shaft, jacking off that portion of his length that wasn't enjoying the touch of my lips and tongue. He responded to my touch by beginning to buck his hips, and this time I couldn't help but gag for a moment as his cock reached down into my throat. He stopped, holding it there for a moment and groaning in pleasure. He then mercifully pulled out of my mouth entirely, and when I looked up at him with slightly teary eyes, motioned for me to stand up.

Now face to face, he leaned down and traced his tongue along my ear lobe, then down to my neck, and as I arched my back in pleasure, he unfastened my bra, and his strong hands cupped and kneaded my tits. Just as I was beginning to enjoy this, he spun me around, and I found myself facing my desk.

"Lean over," he whispered in my ear. "I am so fucking turned on and I want to fuck you from behind."

Still not sure that I could handle his cock, I was nonetheless eager to give it a try, and I followed his direction, leaning over and placing my hands on my desk. He undressed me, pulling off the skirt and panties which were already completely disheveled. As he placed one hand on my inner thigh, no instruction was necessary - I instinctively spread my legs apart, giving him better access.

"Oh, my god, Helen, you are so tight!" he said with genuine surprise as the slowly pressed his cock against the entrance to my pussy. His large size was obvious even now, even before he had entered me. He reached down, brought his strong hands around my torso, and fondled my breasts as he slowly pressed into me.

With just a few inches inside of me, he began stroking in and out, knowing that I needed to adjust to his girth before he could go any further. I now pulled myself back up onto my hands, changing the angle of his penetration slightly, and pressed back against him, encouraging him to go further. He responded with enthusiasm, pushing into me still gradually, but with more force, until I finally felt him bottom out.

I had never felt such fullness, and after a few moments of letting this sensation wash over me, I began to move again, encouraging him to begin fucking me. This eager, athletic young man needed no other encouragement, and before long was thrusting in and out of me with his entire length, giving me the most intense fucking of my life. I came at least twice - maybe more, but I lost count - as he fucked me from behind, the sensations of his huge cock inside of me were so intense. 

Just enough of my practical brain was still left to keep me from screaming out - the walls were thin in this building - and I instead turned my head back just enough to find his lips and engage him in a passionate kiss. It was all I could do to keep our lips together, and finally I had to abandon even that, and again let my weight fall against the desk as he fucked my brains out. I bit my lip to keep from crying out as he finally thrust for the last time and shot his load deep inside my pussy.

While I was still in a daze, still bent over my desk, cum still dripping from my pussy, I realized that he had pulled himself together and was ready to leave. "Helen, I have to go to practice now. But don't worry, if you can suck and fuck that well, I think our little arrangement will work out quite well."

It would be an interesting semester, I thought to myself with a smile as I went back to work.



Making the Grade



My daughter and I—I suppose I should clarify that she is my stepdaughter, but I have always looked at her as if she were my own blood—have maintained a great relationship since the death of her mother two years ago. I was afraid I might lose her, but my wife and I had taken legal action to ensure that Ashley would be able to stay with me, the only father she's ever known, if anything were to happen to my wife. Simply put, I love Ashley and want nothing but the best from her.

Ashley was away at college and came home every other weekend. I had often told her I wished she would stay on campus and live a college girl's life. She felt an obligation to keep an eye on me, especially since I had never moved on after her mother's death. I tried to go out every now and then, but after her mother died, I put all my energy into taking care of Ashley. After she went away to college, it was just easier to stay by myself. I had plenty of internet porn to keep me company, plus I did not want Ashley to feel weird about some strange woman trying to take her mother's place.

One Friday evening I am sitting in the bedroom at my computer—viewing a "Barely Legal" site no less—when I heard keys jingling in the door. Quickly, I shut the monitor off and went out to greet my baby girl. She had a huge smile on her face, so I asked, "What's up, Sweetheart?" 

"My grades came out today." Judging from the smile, I knew she must have made some improvements because during her first semester at college, her grades were a little low. I didn't say much because I knew she was dealing with being in a new place and the recent death of her mother. I had made her promise me this semester, though, that she would try harder in her studies.

Ashley handed me the paper. I was ecstatic. "All As and one B!" I screamed as I dropped the paper and reached to hug her. She must have been unusually proud of herself because this was no ordinary hug. Ashley threw her arms around my neck and jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist. Once the excitement of the moment began to wear off, I began to notice a few things: 1) There was a very beautiful now-adult woman with a smoking hot body wrapped around me in a interesting position 2) As she pulled away from me, our eyes met and I saw a familiar look in her eyes, the one her mother would always give me before we would kiss 3) this felt damn good!

I didn't know if it was from the porn I was watching before Ashley arrived or from being turned on by the current situation, but I had a raging hard-on. I could tell from the look in her eyes that Ashley felt it, and she didn't seem to mind. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say she began to instinctively grind herself against my stiff member. Did I know better? Was she as turned on as I was at what was meant to be an innocent hug? For better or worse, we broke the embrace. I congratulated Ashley once more on her accomplishment, saying, "We have to celebrate before you head back on Sunday." She nodded agreeingly, and had a slight look of disappointment in her face. I knew why because I felt it too, but I didn't dare speak about it. I simply entered my room and closed the door behind me.

"Phew!" I thought. Thoughts of Ashley growing up over the years came rushing into my head at once. "This is my little girl! I shouldn't be thinking about how sexy she is," I scolded myself. In my next wave of thoughts, I realized just how much Ashley had matured over the years, particularly in her physical assets, I mean aspects. She had matured into a young woman. Along they way, she developed supple B-cup breasts and a nice round ass. I suppose the father in me hadn't allowed me to see it previously, but she had become quite a spectacle. She also looked a lot like her mother. Now my dick was hard as ever. I knew I had to relieve myself before I lost it mentally, so I turned my computer monitor back on just in time to see a barely legal, extremely tight pussy getting massacred by a man old enough to be her father. I entertained images of me doing just that to my daughter, and before I could even get in two good strokes, I spurted a massive load all over my computer screen as the waves of my orgasm felt as though they were about to turn my body inside out. As the last of my load oozed out and the intensity of my orgasm wore off, I passed out right there in my chair. 

I woke up the next morning with a mixed bag of emotions. I felt guilt and shame because of the feelings that had been awakened in me toward my daughter. On the other hand, that was the most powerful orgasm I had had in years. For the first time ever, I was a little nervous about facing Ashley. I stepped out of my bedroom to find her busy in the kitchen. "Good morning, Sleepy Head!" she cheerfully greeted me. "You must have had a rough day before I got home. I knocked on your door to say good night, but you must have been fast asleep." 

"I was rather worn out," I mumbled as a new rush of guilt hit me because I what I was doing—and who I was thinking about—right before I passed out. 

"Well, I hope you rested well. Breakfast is almost ready," she said, smiling.

I went to wash my hands and it occurred to me that either Ashley didn't notice what I noticed last night or she did and was being extremely mature about it. Either way, I was happy that moment would not make things weird between us—for her at least. We sat down to breakfast, and Ashley had prepared all my favorites, just like her mother used to. It was just one of many things Ashley did for me that reminded me of her mother and the love we shared. Over breakfast, we had normal conversations about school, work, and even boys. She told me of her plans for the day. She was going shopping with a friend and would later take in a movie with an on-again off-again old flame of hers from high school. "What about us celebrating?" I thought, somewhat jealously. 

"My night is reserved for you, Daddy," she replied. 

"H-Huh?" I stammered nervously, comptemplating the possibilities of what she meant. 

"Yeah, I want to watch movies on the couch with you like you, me, and Mom all used to," Ashley proclaimed. 

"You remember that?" I asked rhetorically and then continued, "I'll pick up a few titles while you're out with your friends." 

"Great! I'm going to go and get dressed," she said as she walked into her room. I couldn't help but notice how round her ass looked in those boyshorts she often wore around the house.

Pretty soon, Ashley was out the door and I was left to my own thoughts. I was further aroused beyond the glimpse I caught of that pretty little round ass I saw this morning and by how grown-up she was acting about last night. She must have felt my stiff cock through the flimsy gym shorts I had on. Mustn't she have? I don't have a monster cock by any means, but I do have a thick 7 and ½ inches. In my experience, even if I accidentally brush up against a woman while I'm aroused, she knows it. I started getting horny all over again. I realized a simple jack-off was not going to suffice this time around, so I decided to go to the gym and blow off steam.

The workout was great, but it did little good because I could not get the thought of ravishing my little girl out of my head. Becoming increasingly frustrated, I decided to go get the movies for later and head home to take a nap. When I got home, I placed the two selections on the couch. I had picked up "Steel Magnolias" and "Friday the 13th." One was the perfect family movie, as I was careful not to pick up anything with any sex scenes, and the other was a scary movie that would give Ashley reason to hold on to me and give me the excuse I was seeking to squeeze her back.

I got into bed for my nap, and surprisingly, I slipped right off to sleep. It wasn't long before I was dreaming about how I wished last night had gone differently. Instead of breaking the embrace and running into my room to jack-off, I placed a firm grip on Ashley's ass with both my hands. This time, I knew she felt my raging hard-on because I could see it in her eyes. Placing her hands on either side of my face, she began to passionately kiss me. I had no thoughts of resisting her as she twirled her tongue around mine like only one other woman had ever done before. She then broke the kiss and jumped down out of my arms. Before I could wonder what would happen next, she had my shorts down and my dick out. Wasting no time, she took me in her mouth and tongue-kissed my cock just as she had done my tongue previously. Instinctively, I grabbed her head and began fucking her face, grinding my hips and hitting the back of her throat every time. Just I was about to release my seed, Ashley pulled my cock out of her mouth, slid down to my balls and began sucking on them while she used the saliva from her ferocious blowjob as lubrication to stroke my dick relentlessly. Just as I was about to unload all over her face, I awakened by my daughter shaking me and yelling, "Daddy! Wake up." Still a little confused, a snapped out of it and realized she had returned from her date a little early.

"What are you doing home so early?" I asked. 

"Things didn't go well with Roger. He wanted me to do things I wasn't ready to do with him," she sadly replied. 

"I'll kill him!" I snapped back. "It's okay, Dad. He got the message." 

"Are you sure?" 

"I'm sure," she reassured me. "Anyway, why were you calling my name in your sleep?" 

"I'm not sure, Honey," I said, trying to avoid the real answer. 

"It sounded serious," she said with a smile. If she only knew! "Dad, let's watch the movies you picked out. They look like some good selections." When I came out of the room, she already had Steel Magnolias in and was waiting for me on the couch. I popped some popcorn and joined her. We watched the first move without incident, other than some laughing and even a little crying. By the time Friday the 13th came around the popcorn was gone, and Ashley clung to me from the opening sequence and would not let go. I placed my arm around her and enjoyed the feeling of her body pressed up against my own. Ashley had on her usual night clothes, a tank top and a pair of boyshorts. This time, however, I could almost swear she had on no bra! Her soft bosom felt great up against my side. 

The movie finally ended and I still cannot tell you what happened in that film. I was too focused on the feelings I was having toward my little girl. We just sat there in silence for a few minutes. What happened next I don't think either of us was fully prepared for. I know I wasn't anyway. "Good night, Pumpkin." I said as a leaned over to give Ashley an innocent kiss on the head. Somehow I misjudged the distance and ended planting one right on her cheek, accidentally (I think) grazing her lip! It had been a while since I had felt the warmth of a woman's lips, and hers were so soft and inviting that the brief contact caused a tent to erect right there in my shorts. Without seeming the least bit embarrassed, Ashley looked into my eyes the same way she did last night. Reaching for the back of my neck, she pulled my face back to hers and began a passionate kiss just like the one in my dream!

I pulled away and shouted, "Ashley, we can't do this!" 

"Why not, Dad? I felt the way I turned you on last night, and I'm sure you went and relieved yourself just like I did in the shower." 

"You felt that?" I asked. 

"Dad, who wouldn't? You've got a baseball bat over there." 

"Ashley, I'm your father!" I yelled, trying to convince even myself. 

"You are in every way that matters, but I'm a woman now, and I know you miss Mom. Everyone says I look just like her." 

"You do look just like her, and I don't think she'd be happy about us even thinking about doing this." 

"Daddy, I think she would love the idea, knowing that she left you behind and that you had someone just like her to comfort you." 

"Ashley, comfort is one thing, but..." my protest ended in mid-sentence as Ashley slid her hand down my shorts and touched, with her soft hands, a dick that was so hard it hurt. 

"Daddy, I want you to give me my first cock." I was in utter shock. Every man fantasizes about hearing a woman tell him that.

"You mean to tell me you've never..." 

"No, Dad, I haven't. Ever since you and Mom got together when I was younger, I've thought you were hot stuff. I knew it would be inappropriate with me being under age, so I never said anything. I tried to find boys my own age, but none of them made me feel the way you do." 

"Ashley, I don't know what to say, I..." 

"Dad, just say you'll fuck me." With that, she was all over me. Her tongue was back down my throat and she was massaging my member. I gripped her soft, round ass and brought her onto my lap, facing me. I helped her out of her tank top, and just as I suspected, no bra. Upon their release, her perky tits were at eye level. I kissed one and fondled the other. I began tonguing the left nipple and pinching the right. Her moans told me I was doing just what she wanted—and needed. I quickly switched positions with her. While sliding out of her shorts, she pleaded with me to take her right then and there.

"Be patient," I instructed her. I got down on my knees. I was not about to pass up the opportunity to lick her virgin pussy. As I got close to her well-groomed kitten, I could hear it purring. I kissed the lips and she began squirming and panting. I licked out my tongue and massaged her clit. She began moving even more frantically and moaning even louder. I told her to cum for Daddy and, almost on command, the couch was drenched with the juices of her first orgasm. Wanting more, I stuck in a finger. I knew I would need to loosen her up some if we hoped to have successful intercourse. Knowing I would need even more space, I entered a second finger to a delightful moan. I brought my tongue back to her clit and began working it in circular motions. Ashley grabbed my head and pulled me toward her, increasing the pressure with which I was attacking her clit. As the waves of a second orgasm washed over her, she pushed my head away saying she could take no more.

"Daddy, give me that dick. Please give it to me. I love you." 

"Sweetie, I'm going to give it to you, but not here on the couch. You deserve better." I took her by the hand and led her to my bed. Neither of us felt strange about that being the very bed I had made love to her mother in numerous times before. I guess we had it fixed in our heads that Maggie would've wanted it this way. "I love you, too," I told Ashley as I kissed her passionately once more, allowing her to taste her own sweet juices. 

Ashley smiled and grabbed my still-aching cock and demanded, "Now fuck me like you used to fuck Mom." I climbed on top of her. She reminded me, "Be gentle. That thing is huge!" My fingers had loosened her up just enough and I slid the head of my cock into the lips of her pussy. Ashley let out a scream filled with both pain and pleasure. 

"Baby, are you okay?" I asked. 

"I'm okay. You're just so big." I was careful not to put my full length in her at first. She felt so good, so moist, so warm, so right. Soon I lost all control for taking it easy. Ashley was grinding against me in rhythm and I was giving her my full length at this point. She began yelling, "Yes! Fuck your daughter! Fuck me hard! Harder! I'm about to cum! Daaaaaddddyyyyyyyyy!" 

As she reached yet another orgasm, her pussy clenched my cock and sent me over the edge. "I'm cumming tooooo!!" I yelled as shot after shot after shot of my thick sperm rocketed inside and filled her void. Spent, I laid down beside her, and Ashley was already asleep. I picked her up and carried her to her own bed. Strangely, I no longer felt guilty about the love we shared. I tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead. The question is: What's next for us? Stay tuned to find out.



Making the Grade



It was a sunny morning in March and Brooke was late for college - again. She had already been in front of the principal once this month for sending text messages in class. Just normal texts might have been OK, but the tutor wasn't impressed to find her sending lewd MSNs of herself in the bathroom. 

Brooke thought "What the fuck" She was 19, she didn't care about the rules. She needed her grades though. Her step father kept saying how important it was to make good grades and get a decent job after college. Brooke was an intelligent girl. She was very bright, vivacious even, but she had a dark side. Frankly, she was a horny bitch and she knew it. She was always teasing the guys at college, but it was just teasing though. Her sights were set high. She preferred older men, and the guys at college were like kids in her opinion.

Just as she was leaving the house, the postman came with a parcel for her step father. It was a special delivery, which meant it needed a signature. More wasted seconds. She was really pushing it now and ran down her road, just in time to see the school bus disappear round the corner.

"Fucking shit! Aaaaargh!"

She was going to be really late now. There was little choice other than for her to begin to walk and she eventually picked up the next bus 25 minutes later. She turned up at her tutor group, just as all the other students were filing out.

'Brooke Myrtle! This is the second time this week!' 

'I know, the post man came - I missed the bus!'

'Always someone else's fault, isn't it! I'm putting you on a visit again!'

A visit was the tutor's term for a visit to see the principal, Mr Harman. First the MSNs and now this. It was becoming a habit. Three times and there would be a letter sent home. 

'OK, thank you!' Said Brooke, sarcastically.

'OK young lady, well get along to your lecture and make sure you're here at nine tomorrow!'

Brooke had a physiology lecture as her first subject on this particular morning. She hated it, but needed the subject for her degree. She sat through it, listening to Mr Cramp waffling on. He freaked her out anyway with his nose like an eagle's beak and his bushy eyebrows. He reminded her of a cartoon character. As she listened to gluteus maximus this and metatarsal the other she twiddled with the hem of her short grey skirt and stretched her legs out. She looked across at Tray. Tray was a bit of a dude. Maybe, out of any of the guys in her class, she would have let him fuck her, but he was too full of himself most of the time, which didn't appeal to her. If he had been a bit more cool, more brooding, then maybe she would have made a move on him even. But she just smiled and licked the end of her pencil. Tray gazed at her. He started to feel turned on, seeing her tongue like that and looked away, half in embarrassment, but mainly because he didn't want to have a hard on that he couldn't get rid of, when it was time to leave. 

"Little boy." She thought and chuckled to herself. Physiology came and went and Brooke was happy when it was lunch.

Later the same day, she was talking to her friend Stacey during a break.

'You gotta go in front of Harman again then Brooke baby?'

'Yeah! It's not even my fault. How can I help if the fucking postman comes just as I'm leaving?'

'Don't you think he's kinda hot?'

'Who the postman?'

'No, Harman dodo!'

Brooke laughed.

Oh yeah, well I don't know. He's OK, I guess.'

'Would you though?'

'He's the principal Stace!'

'Yeah but would you?!'

'Yeah, well maybe!'

The girls giggled hysterically. Brooke put a finger in her mouth .

'Fuck the fucking principal!'

'Brooke! Ha ha, you're bad! When do you see him anyhow?'

'Tomorrow morning. He's just going to bang on about the usual bullshit.'

'You have to watch it though, what after the texts and everything. They've got their eye on you baby!'

'Hey come here Stace, what do you think to these?'

Brooke took her friend to a secluded corner of the quadrangle, where a large oak tree sheltered them from the sun and prying eyes. She lifted her skirt, to reveal a skimpier than skimpy thong!'

'Wow Brooke, they're fucking hot! Turn round!' 

Brooke raised her shirt to her waist, giving her best friend an unrivalled view of her ass.

'Wow!!!! Brooke, you have one amazing butt!'

'You like it don't you, you little slut!'

'Brooke, say that again!'

'Slut. Slut! Stacey the dirty fucking whore!'

Stacey slapped Brooke's bottom. Brooke returned a wry smile and looked down at her friend's hand.

'Go on!'

'Here?'

'Yes!'

Stacey ran her fingers along the edge of the thong, down and under her friend's gusset, until she found her meaty, pussy lips. She rubbed them in a circular motion, until her fingers slipped to one side of the fabric and into her pussy. Brooke was wet. 

'Oh Stacey. Shit! Quick!. Move them, Mrs Mars is coming!'

Stacey pulled her fingers away and the girls assumed a butter wouldn't melt look.

'Hi there Mrs Mars.' They said in unison.

'Good afternoon girls!'

'Mars. Stupid name!' Said Stacey.

'Yeah, bet her shit tastes of chocolate! Added Brooke. 

The girls laughed together and went back into class.

Brooke made the journey back home that afternoon at a more leisurely pace than in the morning. She took the bus that went the long way round, passed the sport stadium and was happy to ogle a group of guys fully kitted up for a soccer game, who were making their way from the car lot into the changing rooms at the side. She licked her lips and would just have given anything to be in their shower at the end of the game. If only! She would take her pick and let the best one fuck her senseless. She smiled to herself, enjoying her naughty teenage thoughts. Her hormones were just bouncing all over the place. It was not enough that she was horny most of the time, but the little candles on the magnolia showed that spring was bursting onto the scene, heightening her girly libido. 

She decided to stay in that evening. 

'You not out tonight Brooke?' Her step father commented, as she idled on the sofa, selecting a track from her iPod. 

'Naah, thought I'd just chill here today.'

'On a Thursday! You're normally gearing up for the weekend. You OK?'

'Yeah! No, I'm cool, I'm just having a quiet night in.'

'OK, well, I'll be in the garage if you need anything.'

'OK, yeah thanks.'

In reality, Brooke just wanted to take it easy, because she wanted to be fresh for the morning. She couldn't risk being late for her appearance in front of the principal.

Brooke wanted to get her grades and get a good job. She wanted to get a masters in sports science. She dreamed of working with real athletic, hot guys, who she could wrap round her finger. Real men. Was it wrong that she wanted to get her fill? She lay on the sofa, listening to her music - day dreaming. Although she was feeling sexy, she tried to take her mind off it. She got up and made a coffee and served herself a few scoops of chocolate ice cream. If she couldn't indulge herself in one way, then she would in another. Remembering her step father in the garage, she checked if he wanted anything, but he was good, so she sat alone with her treat. She enjoyed the sensations, the contrast of hot and cold in her mouth. Brooke was a sensual, sensitive young woman. 

She got off to bed that night, nice and early, so she could be bright eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning. She wanted to make an impression. There wouldn't be any messing up this time. 

Brooke was up and showered for seven thirty. Her college gear was ready to put on. A fresh kit, all nice and ironed. This included her shortest skirt; the one that turned heads. She could cause guys to crash their cars when she wore that skirt. A quick look in her sock drawer left her in no doubt that it had to be knee length with that skirt. Long white socks on her gorgeous butterscotch-brown legs. It was enough to give a man a cardiac arrest at a hundred yards!

As she got on the bus, she noticed the driver do a double take. She hadn't seen this guy before. He was a little younger than the usual one and he made a "Wow, you're smoking!" look with his eyes. Brooke looked hot today and she knew it. A couple of guys sitting near the front, turned to watch her walk down the bus, her ass wiggling all the way under her pelmet of a skirt. She checked in at her tutor group and sat with Stacey at the back. 

'Hey Brooke, get in my bed! You're too much today baby.'

'Thanks Stace! I want Harman to notice me.'

'Notice you! He'll be creaming in his pants when he sees you!'

'Ha ha Well as long as I don't get a discredit, I don't care!'

'Well good luck Baby - and Brooke, not so many late nights now eh!'

'I know! See you later.'

Brooke squeezed Stacey's left leg as she got up and made her way to the principal's office.

She knocked on Mr Harman's door and waited. There was a pause and then the handle turned and he let her in to his office. He looked down at her legs and bottom as he closed the door.

'Is that regulation length Brooke?'

Brook twisted her mouth before she spoke.

'Maybe a tad under.'

'Hmmm, well make sure you stick to the limit, I'll let it go today though, you're in enough trouble.'

Brooke looked at him seriously and then looked at her feet.

Harman returned to the chair behind his desk and looked Brooke up and down. He looked at her long black hair, which cascaded over her shoulders. He paused to take in her gorgeous, full breasts, braless, beneath her white cotton top. He gazed at her amazing, long, dark legs. Harman gulped perceptibly and then spoke.

'Now then Miss Myrtle, you know why you're here. Anything to say?'

'Hmm, I've had a few slip ups.'

'A few?' You were caught sending MSNs in class. Not just MSN, but... well there's no need to go over that again.'

'No.'

'You've been late twice this week!' 

Harman paused to look at the details on his PC. He clicked on her academic record and stared at her skirt again; at her toned thighs. He looked up at Brooke and smiled.

'Your grades need work!'

'Oh! I thought my Fall grades were OK. Two Bs and two Cs. I mean that's OK! Isn't it?'

Harman looked at her breasts, her nipples pushing against the fabric of her top. He tapped a few keys and looked at Brooke slyly. 

'I think you're mistaken.' 

'Mistaken? In what way mistaken?'

'I think you'll find you made four Ds.'

'Four Ds! Nooo!'

'Yes.'

'You... you just changed them on there!'

'You need to work harder Brook Myrtle.'

'Four Ds! That means I've got to sit them all again to get my Masters entry. You can't do that!'

'I just did. Like I said, you need to work harder.'

Brooke was very, very pissed at this sudden turn of events. 

"The bastard." She thought to herself. 

Harman stood up and walked behind her. He was a tall man. He had just turned 40. He worked out and was good for his age. Brooke had never actually disliked him, but was angry at him pulling this stunt. He stood right next to her and turned towards her, looking her in the eyes. She could smell his aftershave. It was good. 

'You can turn those Ds into four As, if you work a little harder.'

Brooke was puzzled. 

'How, I'm not a straight A student Sir. I study quite hard, but four As!'

'Who said anything about studying?'

She began to get his drift. 

'Are you saying what I think you're saying Mr Harman?'

'I think we understand each other.'

'What do I have to do?'

He resumed his seat.

'Unbutton your shirt.'

'Excuse me?'

'You heard Miss Myrtle.'

'I'm wearing no brassiere.'

'I know. Unbutton your shirt.'

'Here? Now?'

'Now, yes Brooke.'

Brooke looked him in the eye severely as she began to pop open the buttons. She lingered on each one, unfastening her top, slowly, teasingly. Harman sat, transfixed like a deer in the headlights. At last she reached the bottom most button and opened her shirt casually. Her bosom was perfect. Glorious, auburn breasts. 

'Come here Brooke.'

She walked towards him.

'Put your knee there.' He said, indicating the space on his chair between his legs. Brooke looked down and could tell he had become hard. His trousers were bulging. She guessed he was at least three quarters up. She knelt on his chair, and he sat up, so that his face was just an inch from her tits. He looked up at her and cupped her breasts in his hands and pushed his face between them.

'Mr Harman!'

'They're wonderful Brooke. You tits are absolutely amazing.'

'Well, yeah I know.'

Harman smiled pleasantly.

'Get up and turn round Brooke.'

'OK.'

'Now bend over.'

The young student stopped to think. She was almost beginning to enjoy his game, but still felt quite uneasy.

'What are you waiting for Brooke? I want you to bend over and touch your toes, do you hear.'

The student took a deep breath and bent over.

Her skirt, short as it was, revealed her ample, pert ass in an instant. Harman gasped as he saw her booty and the mound of her pussy lips, which pressed tantalisingly against her white thong. A few of her black pubic hairs poked out through the sides.

'Oh Brooke. Brooke Myrtle! You really are a fucking sight for sore eyes!'

She was surprised to hear her principal swear. She never imagined he ever swore.

Harman dropped to his knees.

'Just stay where you are. OK?'

The principal ran his right index finger along the crease of her pudenda, pushing the thong into her pussy lips. He put his nose to her panties and sniffed. He groaned as he inhaled her intensely sexual scent. Clean and fresh, but heady with her sex. He almost swooned, intoxicated by her aroma. Spurred on, he lifted the fabric to one side and rubbed his finger against her pussy. Her lips were moist. Pulling the thong of her panties away further he first put two fingers in her and then dipped his tongue in. Brooke let out a quiet moan of delight, as his tongue went in further, licking her cunt from top to bottom. He gripped her ass cheeks and buried his face against her butt, eating her ass and pussy ravenously. He murmured with satisfaction as he felt her moisture pool in his mouth. His tongue was shooting around her vagina as she started to cum. She was breathing heavily, the blood rushing to her head as she bent down and equally filling up her labia, gorged with her arousal. She stood up, feeling momentarily dizzy and gripped his chair as Harman began to unbuckle his belt. He unzipped his trousers and Brooke's eyes were almost on stalks as he produced eight inches of throbbing penis.

'Oh shit! Mr Harman!'

'I think you're up to four Bs Miss Myrtle.'

Brooke Smiled a big smile. Her smile became a huge grin. She knew she was about to be fucked and fucked good. 

'I'm ready to make four As Mr Harman Sir!'

As the words left her lips, Brooke gripped the back of his chair and bent over, with her pussy inviting him to enter her. 

'Oh Brooke! You gorgeous bitch!'

Harman gripped her hips and steadied himself. He aimed his dick at her juicy lips and slid it home.

Brooke let out a long, slow moan as she felt him fill her with his thick, rigid cock.

He began to fuck her slowly, with a long, steady rhythm, her butt cheeks quivering with each stroke. Harman could feel her young, tight pussy, wrapped deliciously around his erection as he began to pump her a little faster. As he moved faster, she got tighter. As she got tighter, she got wetter and after a few more seconds Harman couldn't prolong the tantalising pace any longer. He just gave her everything. She received his length and girth completely, as he began to pound her furiously. Remorselessly. Brooke began to squeal, as she felt the beginnings of another orgasm, her vulva tingling. Her pleasure was heightened by the circumstances, the taboo nature of the sex, being blackmailed. Fantastic, raw sex. To her surprise the principal pulled out, his cock moist from her juice.

'I want you on the desk now girl. Sit on the edge there.' 

She changed her position, opening her legs and he took her from the front, finding her reddened lips effortlessly, her young, tight sex box still so slippery from her complete arousal. He began to shag her again, fucking her deeply as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her ass was jerking against the red leather of the desk as he fucked her. He fondled her breasts, building his momentum up for the finale, a crescendo of passion as the two each began to pant and moan in pre-orgasmic ferment. Harman was vocal as he could feel his ejaculation imminent. Brooke was holding on, until her groin trembled with her orgasm - and it was a big one!

'Hmmmm, hmmmmm, ooh yeah, oh Mr Harm...oh yesss! Yes!!!! Oh fuck. Aiiyyyeeeee! Ow! Ooh wow!!! Yes! Yes! Yessssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

Brooke's body was convulsing as he gave in and let his emotions take over. 

'Ahh Brook, ah you fucking bitch, you fucking sexy bitch. Yes! I'm coming, I'm... aaagh yes! Yes!!!!

Harman pulled out as a jet of semen splashed up Brooke's belly, another huge spurt hitting the inside of her thigh. She looked up at him with a dirty smirk and massaged his spunk into her stomach and breasts.

'Hmmmmm, Mr Harman. Am I your best student?'

'Ugh yes. Oh fuck. Myrtle, you're the best and the hottest there is. And some.

Afterwards they dressed quietly. Brooke stood behind the head man as he re-entered her grades. Four A's. He looked at her and she nodded with assurance. 

'OK, well don't let me see you in here with a skirt as short as that again madam, OK?'

'Yes Sir. Thanks Sir.'

A while later Brooke met Stacey in the corridor by the gym.

'Hey Brooke! How'd it go?'

'Oh you know!'

'No, I don't know.'

'He gave me a bit of a lecture, you know the normal stuff, then he fucked the shit out of me!'

'Ha ha, yeah whatever!'

Brooke beamed and gave Stacey a wink.

Stacey stood there open-mouthed. 

'Come on stop catching flies, we've got a lecture in 20 minutes, let get a coffee.'



Making the Grade



Part 1 - Daniel

It had been a very long day. I always tried to pace myself as we approached the end of the school year, but invariably the schedule got the best of me. I looked over at the clock; it was 4:15. After grading the quiz I had given my juniors, I would be fifteen minutes from the bottle of Chardonnay I had chilling at home. I could almost taste the smoky, buttery goodness; but the wine would have to wait as there was a knock at the door. A head peaked around the corner; it was Melissa Shaw, the mother of one of my seniors, Emily Shaw.

"Mr. Allison? Are you free?"

I stood and met her halfway into my office. One of the nice perks with teaching at a private school (at least this one) was that I actually got my own office; not just a classroom. "Ms. Shaw. It's good to see you." It was Ms. because she had recently divorced her husband. Rumor was that he cheated on her with his secretary. That told me all I needed to know about him - a first class moron. Ms. Melissa Shaw was a striking woman - tall, about 5-10 (only a couple of inches shorter than me); curves that weakened the knees; toned legs that went on forever, and platinum blond hair that framed a beautiful face with big, expressive eyes. She was probably in her mid-forties, making her about 10 years older than me. How anyone could ever cheat on a woman that looked like her, I couldn't figure out.

"Please, have a seat," I said, motioning to the chair at the side of my desk. "What can I do for you?"

She looked down at her purse, which she held in her lap, then up at me. "Well, Mr. Allison, I'm concerned about Emily. She told me that she's been having a little bit of trouble in your class."

I flipped through my grade book to the senior year advanced chemistry class. Taking a ruler, I scrolled to about three-quarters of the way down the page. "Here we are," I said. "Right now, with only the final exam left, Emily has an 85 average, a solid B."

The look on Ms. Shaw's face changed from one of concern to pain. "That's not going to be good enough, I'm afraid," she said. 

I knew from speaking with her other teachers (and from having her in my physical science class freshman year) that Emily was normally a straight A student and that it would be critical for her to get straight A's this semester before applying for college and scholarships.

"Well," I replied, trying to be optimistic, "if Emily were to ace the final - let's say with a 95 - she could bring her average up to..." I did the calculations. "...a 90 - half a grade up."

Ms. Shaw pursed her full, perfectly painted lips. "She really needs a solid A to compete for scholarships at the schools she's applying. She has a 3.9 GPA; getting a B-plus or A-minus would really hurt that average."

I could certainly empathize with her. The students that go to a private school like this one are highly competitive and look to gain any advantage. On top of having a near perfect GPA, Emily was on the National Honor Society, the debate team, and the field hockey team, where she was one of the best players. But, for whatever reason, she was a little off her game in my advanced chemistry class.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Shaw, but even if Emily got a 100 on the final, she still wouldn't be able to get the 10-12 points needed to get her to a 95 or 96 final grade."

A look of defeat on her face, Ms. Shaw sighed as she looked wistfully out the window. It had begun to rain, the sound of raindrops hammering the pavement and roof soon filled the room.

"Is it possible," she said with a glimmer of hope in her voice, "for Emily to do something for extra credit, like a project or paper?"

I had a strict policy on "extra credit." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I don't allow extra credit projects because it tends to lead to students doing extra work to make up for past mistakes rather than learning the material in front of them. I'm sorry."

She nodded. "Of course. I understand."

Emily's mother stood and I followed suit. "Thank you for your time," she said, offering her hand.

"Anytime," I replied. Her hand was warm to the touch, and I was actually taken aback by its softness. My fingers lingered over her skin as she turned toward the door, and for a moment I thought I would take hold of her hand in an effort to keep her in the room; I felt a mixture of arousal and guilt.

As Ms. Shaw walked to the door, I couldn't help but stare at her long, toned legs and round butt. Her dress, although conservative in its cut, accentuated her figure. When she reached the door, she turned slightly and paused, as if weighing something in her mind. The light from the hallway framed her voluptuous silhouette in the doorway. "Thank you again for your time," she said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I replied, sighing to myself as she left.

Looking outside at the pouring rain and then at the clock, I decided it was time to head home. I stood outside the back entrance of the school, the awning momentarily protecting me from the rain. There were only a few cars in the parking lot. Opening my umbrella, I quickly made my way to my Explorer. Just as I was about to start the engine, there was a knock on the passenger side window. To my surprise, it was Ms. Shaw, huddled under a small umbrella. I unlocked the door and motioned for her to come inside.

"Ms. Shaw, are you alright? Is something wrong with your car?"

She was still catching her breath as she spoke, "No, no..."

"It's alright; take your time."

She smiled as she removed a handkerchief from her purse and wiped her brow. "Thank you," she replied, "It sure didn't take long to get wet out there."

As she composed herself, I couldn't help but stare. She wore a white, floral-patterned sundress with a bustier top that tied at the back of her neck. From my vantage point, I could see the top of her ample bosom, which was moist from the rain. The length of the dress fell to just above her knees. I forced myself to look away.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, Mr. Allison," she said, placing the handkerchief in her purse. 

"It's quite alright," I replied. Really, it was fine with me if she wanted to talk to me - anytime, anywhere.

"I was hoping," she began, setting her umbrella on the floor in front of her, "we could find a way to make up those extra points Emily would need if she were to ace the final."

"Ms. Shaw," I replied, not sure what I could say to convince her that the math just didn't work, "it's impossible for her to gain enough points. I'm truly sorry."

She bit her lower lip, then spoke, "If she goes into the final with an 85 average, you're correct; she can't make up the difference..." Still looking into my eyes, she slowly pulled the hem of her dress up, exposing her tan thighs as she spoke, "...but if she went into the final with a 90 or 92 average, she would most assuredly get an A, wouldn't she?" My heart leapt up into my throat.

My mind was racing, my eyes surveying the parking lot wondering if anyone could see us; wondering if she was implying what I thought she was implying; wondering if I could possibly do what she seemed to be hinting at.

My mouth felt like cotton as I choked out a response. "Yes; if she were to enter the final with a 90 average and aced it, she would definitely get an A. But Ms. Shaw..."

"Do you want me?" she interrupted.

"Jesus," I sighed, "I..." What could I possibly say in response? The answer was obvious. I used a diversionary tactic. "I'd be fired," I replied.

"I understand," she replied, "but you didn't answer my question, Mr. Allison. Do you want me?" Before I could answer, she looked down at my crotch. My eyes followed hers to the large tent in my khakis. 

She smiled, and in one fluid motion, straddled my waist, her large, beautiful breasts just inches from my face. Reaching down, she took my manhood into her hand, only the fabric of my pants and boxer briefs between me and her touch. I couldn't believe what was happening; I thought at any moment I would awaken from a dream and find myself alone in bed. Emily's mother unbuckled my belt and deftly unzipped by pants, eliciting a groan from my throat. Reflexively, and before my brain could catch up, I lifted my hips and pushed my pants down past my knees. 

As she grasped the shaft of my growing manhood in her hand, she whispered in my ear, the heat of her breath sending a chill down my spine, "You feel so good in my hand." She gyrated her hips and rubbed her pussy against me. I looked down; the thin fabric of her panties was already moist with her arousal. "God, that feels so good," she moaned, "Do you want to fuck me?" she asked, kissing my neck as she continued to rub herself on me. "Tell me you will help Emily and you can have me." She pulled down my boxer briefs, revealing my fully engorged cock.

I was speechless. I looked down between our bodies. My hard cock was poised at her entrance, which was slick with arousal. At that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl. I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of her pussy on me.

"Yes," I replied - simply, softly. 

Then, without another word, I wrapped my hand around her neck (feeling her quickening pulse under my fingers) and thrust my hips up in one, swift motion. Melissa groaned as I buried my cock inside her body. She was incredibly wet and stiflingly hot. For a moment we sat still, looking into each other's eyes and realizing there was no going back. She had a look of both determination and lust that nearly sent me over the edge right there. I pulled her to me and kissed her hungrily, tasting her. Her lips were full, her tongue sweet as she slipped into my mouth. 

Melissa began to grind her hips against me, soft moans escaping her lips with each thrust. I kissed my way down her long, flawless neck; as I did, she reached up and untied the strap holding the top of her dress in place. In an instant, her magnificent breasts were exposed. I took her left tit in my hand, cupping it as I licked around the fully erect nipple. She sighed in response as she picked up her pace, grinding herself into me. I took her other tit in my hand and flicked my tongue across her nipple. Her breasts her perfect - firm yet soft to the touch, the weight of them heavy in my hand. I suckled her as she moaned her approval. Her sounds of passion drove me crazy; I took hold of her round ass and proceeded to pound her pussy, our bodies making loud slapping noises with each thrust.

"UGH, UGH, UGH," she grunted, as I banged my student's mom just a few meters from the school's back entrance. 

Melissa leaned back and ground her cunt against my body. If it was possible for me to get any harder, I did. Her beautiful skin glistened with perspiration; her nipples were rock hard and invitingly erect; and her hips moved with an impossible rhythm that made me wish I could fuck her for hours. "Damn, you're incredible!" I said, as I seized the opportunity to rub her clit while she mashed her body against mine.

"YES!" she cried. "Just like that. Please, don't stop!" she begged as I circled her swollen button with my thumb.

I grabbed a hold of a butt cheek with my free hand, encouraging her to pick up the pace. "Oh, God yes!" she exclaimed. My cock felt like a telephone pole as I penetrated her as deep as I could. At that moment, I didn't know or care about the consequences; I wanted her more than I'd wanted anyone in my life. 

As her skin became flush with arousal and her squeals got higher and higher in pitch, I did my best to keep up the tempo, knowing that I wasn't very far away myself. Her body moved fluidly, her beautiful curves making it nearly impossible to hold out much longer.

"OhmyGod, ohmyGod, OH MY GOD!" Melissa's body shook uncontrollably, her mouth agape, her eyes clamped shut as I continued to rub her clit. It was beautiful to watch.

As she started to come down, I brought her close to me; her breathing was labored, her skin warm to the touch. Lost in the moment, I took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. I kissed her neck as I resumed fucking her as hard as I dared. With each impact, she grunted into my ear. 

"Come inside me," she whispered. 

I lost it at that point; within seconds I felt my cock swell and then I let out a deep, guttural growl that I had never heard before as I shot a massive load inside her. My cock continued to twitch inside her body as she leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. "God, that felt amazing," she purred. Melissa slowly moved her hips into me. "Feeling you come inside me made me so hot for you," she said. "I want you to fuck me again."

I had literally died and gone to heaven. She continued to move her hips, coaxing my softening cock back to life. "Just keep doing that," I said, "and I'll be ready to go again in no time."

Part 2 - Emily

My study group had gone long so by the time I had gone out the back entrance of the school, there were only a couple of cars left in the parking lot. I always went out the back when I walked home because it was the most direct route to our street. Luckily, it had just finished raining and was starting to clear.

I was about to step off when I caught movement inside a Ford Explorer; I realized after a moment that it was Mr. Allison's. His car was maybe twenty feet from where I stood, and as my eyes focused, it became apparent that he was with someone - a woman. I could see her bare back as her body rose up and down with a steady movement that made it all-to-clear what was going on. I couldn't believe it! Mr. Allison was having sex with someone in the school parking lot! 

Reflexively, I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the tryst. I was apparently alone. Suddenly realizing I was in plain view, I retreated behind the wall and peaked my head out, mesmerized by the hypnotic motion of the woman. Instantly, my mind wandered. Who was she? Another teacher? His girlfriend? Mr. Allison was good-looking, especially for a man twice my age. He was tall and lean, but not skinny; he was athletic with a square jaw. He was the subject of more than one fantasy of mine, and I knew I wasn't the only student that used him in their own mind to get themselves off. My best friend Ashley and I talked about our fantasies one night when she stayed over. As I continued to watch, I couldn't help but wonder how big he was. I'd been with two boys - was his cock like theirs? What would it be like to be with someone so much more experienced?

The woman's cries were loud enough that I could clearly hear her. Damn, she's enjoying herself, I thought. My hand drifted under my skirt and into my panties. I was wet. I continued to watch Mr. Allison fuck the mystery woman as I slipped a finger inside; I was so horny I contemplated texting Johnny (my ex) and telling him to meet me in the woods where we had fooled around for the first time. As I fingered myself, I pictured Mr. Allison taking me and realized Johnny's dick would not do.

Soon the woman was moaning loudly again, this time matched by Mr. Allison's voice. I picked up my pace, as if I was in the car with them, the three of us climaxing together. The woman's pace was breathtaking, as she bounced up and down on Mr. Allison's cock. I slipped two fingers inside and matched her pace as I leaned against the cool brick wall of the school for support. My legs quivered as I felt my orgasm building. The blood rushed from my head, making me dizzy, and I leaned my back against the wall as the first convulsions hit me like a tsunami. I stifled a scream with my free hand as I continued to finger-fuck my pussy. The woman in the car let out one final blissful scream as we climaxed together, leaving me spent and speechless.

I gathered myself and looked warily over to the Explorer, hoping to finally see with whom I had just shared Mr. Allison in my mind. I almost screamed when I saw my own mother stumble out of the vehicle. Before she walked away, Mr. Allison rolled down his window; my mother said something to him then leaned in and kissed him before going to her car.

Holy shit. What the fuck was going on? How long had they been seeing each other? If they are seeing each other, why hadn't he come around the house? "Because he's not supposed to have relationships with students' parents, even if they were single," I said aloud, answering my own question. What the fuck was I going to do? I couldn't sit across the dinner table from my mom tonight, knowing that she had sex with my science teacher, could I? How could I sit in class tomorrow knowing Mr. Allison had sex with my mom? I waited until both Mr. Allison and my mom were long gone before I walked home, the entire time contemplating what, if anything, I would or could do in light of what I now knew.

When I got home, I did my best to act normal. Heck, my mom was doing such a good job - if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I never would have known that earlier that day she had fucked my teacher in the school parking lot. Luckily, there were only a couple of days of classes left before finals. I kept my head down and studied my ass off. I did the math, so I knew that if I got A's on everything, I'd get straight A's except for chemistry. The best I could do there was an A-minus, which was why I told my mom ahead of time so there would be no surprises.

So, it was quite the surprise when the results of the finals were posted along with my final grade in chemistry - a 97. Impossible. When I told my mom the news, she was very happy of course, but there was something else - a look on her face that was there just for an instant that I couldn't quite place. It wasn't until I was in bed a few hours later that the truth dawned on me. I had an 85 average going into that chemistry final. I scored a 96 on the final. According to the syllabus and my calculations (which were accurate), I should have finished with a 91, not a 97. Just a few days before that final, I see my mother having sex with Mr. Allison and I come away with exactly what I need to keep my GPA intact just as I'm applying for college. I couldn't believe it. My mother fucked Mr. Allison to get me a better grade.

As I laid in bed, my mind drifted back to the sight of the "mystery woman" impaling herself on Mr. Allison's cock. The way she fucked him; the screams of ecstasy - she wasn't faking it. I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have sex with him. One hand went up my shirt and caressed my hardening nipples; the other drifted south. I closed my eyes and imagined it was Mr. Allison's hands on me, bringing me to orgasmic bliss.

When I was done, and as I drifted asleep, I made a decision. I was going to have sex with Mr. Allison.

* * * *

The last day of school before the holiday break, I went to Mr. Allison's office. It was late in the day, and I passed only a couple of teachers and one or two students on the way. His door was ajar and the light was on; I took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in," he said, and I stepped into his office, quickly but quietly closing the door behind me. "Miss Shaw," he said, looking up from some papers, a surprise in his voice. "What can I do for you?" 

I almost giggled. What can you do for me, I thought. You can fuck me like you fucked my mother, that's what you can do for me. "I just wanted to thank you," I replied, a little quiver in my voice. I was trying to play the seductress but truth be told, I was nervous.

"For what?"

I walked to the side of his desk and leaned my hip against it. "I think you know, Mr. Allison," I said, my voice more steady now, my heart pounding. He looked a little flustered so I continued while I had the momentum. "I know what my grade was going into that final, and I know that there is no way I could have finished with a 97 final grade unless I had a little help."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his face getting redder by the second.




Making the Grade



"Mr. Allison, it's okay. I'm very grateful...and who could blame you for doing it?" I hesitated, weighing the words in my head before I spoke. "My mom's a beautiful woman. I'm sure when she offered her body for a bump in my grade, you really had no choice." I said it. I tried desperately to read his face without looking desperate. 

"No, what? No, you're mistaken, Miss Shaw. That's not what happened."

I sat on the corner of his desk, my plaid skirt inching up a couple of inches in the process, revealing more of my milky white skin. "So, that wasn't you in your Explorer last week with my mom? I saw the whole thing, Mr. Allison."

"Miss Shaw, I..."

"It's okay," I interrupted, "why do you think I'm here at 4:30 the last day of the semester?"

"I don't know," he replied, honestly clueless as to my intentions.

"Ever since I watched you and my mom, I can't get it out of my head." I lifted my left leg and placed my foot on his chair in between his legs, exposing my inner thigh and giving him a peek at my white panties. "I was standing by the back entrance when you fucked her. My mom was bouncing up and down on your cock...and I was fucking myself with my fingers, wishing it was you inside me."

"Jesus, Miss Shaw, are you crazy? We could get in so much trouble. You could lose any chance of a scholarship. I could lose my job."

"Only if someone found out," I replied, "Are you going to tell anyone that you traded sex with a parent for a better grade for their kid, or had sex with that same student?" He didn't bother answering the obvious. "Me either." I hesitated, deciding my next move. "Do you want to see how I've been touching myself every night since that day I saw you with my mom? Do you want to see how I get myself off...thinking of you?" I opened my legs, fully exposing my white panties to him, then traced my slit lightly with my fingers. Fuck, I was already soaking wet. I was sure he could see how wet I was.

"Mr. Allison," I whispered as I leaned back on his desk, "I'm so wet for you." I slipped my hand under my panties and penetrated my slit with my middle finger. Mr. Allison was transfixed. "Oh, God," I sighed. I could see the resolve in his face start to wither away. He was going to break; it was only a matter of time. "Do you like watching me touch myself?"

"Yes," he whispered.

I was so hot for him, I was ready to offer him my whole body. I wanted him to take me like he took mom.

"I want to see your cock...please," I begged. At that moment, I was no longer in the driver's seat. I was a cock hungry slut - his cock hungry slut.

The look on Mr. Allison's face changed. He had made up his mind. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled them down to his knees revealing a massive bulge in his boxer briefs. I think I started to salivate at the sight of it, and I dropped down to my knees under his desk, like I had imagined a hundred times. I kissed him through the fabric of his boxer briefs, feeling the heat of his skin and the hardness of his lust pressing against the cotton, aching to be released.

I hooked my fingers under the waistband and looked up at him. His eyelids were heavy, his nostrils flared, his jaw clenched. He was barely keeping it together and I wanted to make him lose it. I pulled his underwear down to his ankles and my heart caught in my throat as I drank in the sight of his cock - the same cock that had fucked my mother just a week ago was about to disappear down my throat; my clit throbbed just thinking about it. He was big - not freak porn star big, but longer than the couple of guys I'd been with and certainly much thicker. His balls hung low and invitingly.

I started at the base and licked my way up the underside of the shaft. He moaned softly as his cock twitched. I did it again, this time flicking my tongue at his little pee hole. I knew I was doing something right when he took in a sharp breath and whispered something unintelligible. It was when I took him in my hand that I realized how big his cock was - I was barely able to wrap my fingers around him. "I love your cock, Mr. Allison. Do you want me to put it in my mouth?"

He answered my question by taking a handful of my hair in his fist and pushing me down on him. God, I was so turned on. His girth filled my mouth as I took in half his length. 

"Let me see your eyes," he said in a hoarse voice. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you suck me dick."

Instinctively, I reached between my legs to rub my clit as I looked up at his tortured face. Mr. Allison growled like an animal as he pushed his knees further apart, took my head in both of his hands and fucked my mouth. The feeling of being used by my teacher for his pleasure made me feel wicked and wet because it was me who made him act like this. I took away my other hand, which was grasping his cock, and brought it behind my back, giving him full reign to use me as his fuck toy. He was really getting into it, forcing me down on him so hard that I gagged on the head of his cock as it banged against the back of my throat. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. It made the sex I had previously with boys my own age seem lame in comparison. I was an inexperienced cocksucker but I was a quick study.

"That's so fucking hot," he whispered. He pulled me off him, leaned down and kissed me for the first time, his fists still holding a handful of my long, blond hair. I could taste the hunger and lust on his lips, and at that moment I would have done anything he wanted. He stood up and said, "Lick my balls." I leaned down and licked him tentatively at first, but then with more fervor as he urged me on. Getting into it, I took one of his big balls in my mouth, causing him to grunt his approval. I grasped his shaft and slowly stroked him as I sucked on his balls. "Yeah," he said, "that feels so good, Emily." It was the first time he said my name, and it made a chill go up my spine and a tingling sensation down between my legs.

"Take off your blouse," he ordered.

I quickly complied, fumbling with the buttons to my school uniform, and unhooking my bra. Mr. Allison stroked his cock as he watched me undress. I felt so naughty and vulnerable, I loved it.

"Wow," he said as he ran his fingers across my breasts, making my nipples hard from his touch. I was very proud of my tits. They weren't as big as my mom's, but they were a nice handful with big, sensitive nipples.

"You like them?" I asked, knowing the answer.

He nodded and smiled. "Beautiful. Now suck my dick."

Fuck, I loved the way he took control. I placed my hands on his hips for support and took him between my lips, swirling my tongue around the head.

"Fuck!" he hissed. "That's so good." He took my tits in his hands and played with the nipples, sending little shockwaves all over my body. 

I continued to stroke him with my mouth, taking him as deep as I could every once in a while, causing me to gag. He seemed to get off on watching me choke on his length so I picked up the pace, letting him fuck my mouth again. He was so thick, I had a hard time imagining taking him in my pussy; but I was determined to do just that. 

I pulled off him for a moment to catch my breath. "Did my mom suck your cock like this?" I honestly wanted to know.

"No," he replied. I don't know why exactly, but I smiled.

Mr. Allison leaned over me and placed his hands on his desk for support. "You're gonna make me come," he said in a hoarse voice. "Deeper," he ordered. I slowed down my pace just a little, but took him as deep as I could each time, finally getting to the point where my lips kissed the base of his thick shaft. My eyes were watering and my mouth was getting tired. He must have sensed this as he placed one hand on the back of my head and the other under my jaw and fucked my mouth like it was a pussy. It felt unbelievable to know that I could make the normally reserved and professional Mr. Allison lose control.

"God damn, your mouth is fucking perfect," he groaned. I could feel his manhood swell in my mouth; it got to be almost unbearable. "Fuuuuuck!" he groaned as he shot his load down my throat, holding me tight as he did. I'd never swallowed before; it was an amazing sensation. His cum was so hot and slippery, it just slid down my throat effortlessly. When he was done, I found myself wishing there was more. He let me go, and I fell back onto the floor like a used toy. My mouth ached but so did my pussy - I wanted him to fuck me so badly. Mr. Allison's cock was slackening and wet from being in my mouth. He wiped his brow, smiled, then without a word lifted me to my feet and kissed me so deeply I thought I would die right there.

"That was amazing, Emily," he said, letting out a huge breath. "I think it's your turn, what do you think?" he said with a wry smile.

Of course only having been with a couple of boys my age, I had no concept of the guy coming and there being anything further. I was elated to know that he wasn't done with me. "Yes, please," I said in a little girl's tone.

Mr. Allison smiled like he knew something I didn't, lifted me onto his desk, and pulled down my white panties in one quick motion. I let out a gasp, surprised by the violence of his action. He lifted my skirt out of the way revealing my completely bald pussy. (I had shaved that morning in the event I found myself in this position.)

He looked at me (my pussy, that is) with a look I'd never seen before - a mixture of lust and reverence. He wasted little time as he licked that spot where my legs meet my butt. God, it felt so wonderful, I got goosebumps all over my body. He pushed my knees apart and my legs wide - I was completely open to him. Mr. Allison paused, admiring me; I think I blushed. Then he licked me from that wonderful spot between my pussy and my asshole all the way up to my clit. I sighed my approval as he quickly did it again.

"Mmmmm," he cooed, "You taste yummy."

He spread my lips apart with his hot fingers; I felt so vulnerable and exposed. He lapped at my clit at an increasingly vigorous clip, and I wondered how long I'd last.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," I murmured. It wasn't long before I felt the familiar sensation brewing deep inside me. I tried not to think too much, but I realized that the only times I had ever come was by my hand. No one had ever brought me to orgasm. I felt like I was in a wave pool - floating as the waves crashed over me - each successive one hitting my body with greater and greater impact. I felt something slip between my wet lips and my back arched in response. The pressure against my contracting pussy sent me over the edge as the waves came crashing down on me more quickly and with great force. I think I yelled out because Mr. Allison's hand was over my mouth. I looked down, holding onto the edge of his desk, and watched as Mr. Allison continued to finger fuck me while licking my clit. I just kept coming as I lost control of my body momentarily, flailing my limbs like a rag doll.

Just as I started to come down from the incredible heights he had taken me, Mr. Allison grabbed me by the shoulders, stood me up and leaned me over his desk. I was momentarily confused, but when I realized what he was about to do, I almost got off again. Mr. Allison spread my legs to provide him better access. I felt his hardness at my entrance and I could hear him breathing. It seemed like an eternity, and I wondered if he was waiting for permission. I was about to grant it when he impaled me with his thick cock.

It's hard to explain in words how it felt to have Mr. Allison inside me. He was so much bigger than I had experienced before, I felt like I was full. I thought for sure there was no way I could take all of him, but as I felt his skin against mine, I knew I most certainly could. We stayed like that with his cock buried deep inside me.

"Fuck me, you're so tight," he grunted.

I felt so naughty, I said, "You like my pussy, Mr. Allison?"

"Fuck, yeah," he croaked.

"Fuck me, Mr. Allison. Bang that 18 year-old cunt." I was shocked by the vulgarity of the statement; shocked that it came from my mouth.

Mr. Allison did fuck me. He fucked me so good, I felt like his perfect little fuck doll. He spanked my little ass as he pounded my pussy, his cock hitting just the right spot. As he grabbed my hips and took me from behind like an animal, I came like I had never come - before or since. His rhythm wavered and before I knew what was happening, Mr. Allison had pulled out, spun me around, and let loose a massive load down my throat. I took him in my hands and coaxed every last ounce from him, completely draining him.

I was exhausted, sore, and disheveled - but I was happy, and already thinking of how I could see Mr. Allison again before I went away to college. 



Making the Grade



Grace Brazil & Keaster46

Christopher stepped out of the shower toweled off then peered into the semi darkness of the bedroom. The female figure was out lined by the street light as she lay sleeping. Chris wanted to go to her and gather her up in his arms and kiss her again and again. He may not have loved her but what ever it was that he was feeling at this moment it sure had him feeling good. Chris picked up his clothing and walked out into the night.

As he walked down the back alley to his home only a block away he wondered why these encounters were done mostly at night. He would be happy to have walked down to Linda's house in broad daylight if she had allowed it. This was the third such encounter and their time together kept getting better with each time they... they what. Chris wanted to say "Made love. Fucked their brains out. Went crazy in the nakedness of seeing one another." Just what was it they were doing and where if any where was this going to lead. He turned at his back gate paused to sat on the swing and think before going in the house. It was now after midnight the moon was full and it was nearly as bright as day. There was no one about in this small town. No one saw him coming from Linda's house or going for that matter. But he knew that sooner or later someone would know what he was doing with this older lady and it was not just her helping him with his math skills. 

He knew that some people can simply look at a man or woman and know they have been making love or getting fucked. Some people had a glow about them that is like a bill board sign telling the world what they have been doing. Chris was not sure if it was he or Linda that would glow first but he knew keeping a secret in this town was not possible. He stood and entered his house. 


He smiled to himself as he thought Linda was about the same age as his mother. He had let his mind run down that path after the first time he had come home from Linda's. He had gone to bed thinking Linda was a lot like his mother. They both were small women, both had full round breasts for their slight frames. Both were happy people with a smile on there pretty faces all the time. But the big difference was that when Chris stood close to Linda both felt this strange sensation between then. 

Some one at school had said Linda Blair was available to tutor students in math. Chris had approached Linda and from that first moment he knew and she knew it was going to be much more than a simple hour of math instruction. Their eyes met and they both were pulled into a spider web stronger than steel. It tied them together and quickly bound them into one strange bundle of flesh. The older lady had not only allowed Chris free roam of her body but Linda was the one that guided the sessions and instructed Chris how to do what she liked but also it was Linda that gave Chris the first taste of her many charms. 

Linda had been married before and she knew just about every thing two lovers could do to and for one another. Linda showed Chris how to excite a lady with his tongue, is fingers and of course his manly erection. Linda had told Chris that he was every bit a man in the male erection department. Linda had touched Chris that first time she had held his erection in both hands mouthing the words telling him how much she needed him and how lovely his cock was. 

After that first time Linda had cried and rolled away from him. He asked what was wrong all Linda could say was she was so ashamed. Yet when Chris rolled her back over to face him she once again grabbed his cock as he kissed her. Later as Linda sat upon him with his cock pushed way up inside her with Chris looking up at her face she told him to take her breasts in his hands and squeeze as she bounced up and down. 

Linda never seemed to be embarrassed again after that. Chris was so stunned that first time he never had time to be embarrassed. Linda had told him he had a very manly cock and so he relished in the glory of her words and let her touch him, take him into her mouth when ever she wanted and Chris let her mount him in any position she desired. Linda seemed to like it when Chris got behind her and did her from the back like a dog. In fact Linda had called it doggie style once. 

Chris did not say how excited he got doing it that way. Chris did not tell Linda how aroused he got watching his cock going into her while his eyes looked at the tiny tanned and puckered hole just above her pussy. Chris did not say he was fascinated by looking at her tiny ass hole. 

That first time when he came home he remembered looking at Linda's beautiful ass and thinking how much he wanted to put his cock in her little puckered hole. He had heard of such things and that was when he remembered seeing his mother bent over naked and how he had seen his mother's tiny butt hole. He remembered how hard his cock had gotten when that happened. 

It had been a year ago. Chris was going out to pay ball with his friends but had gone back home to get something. He had gone down the basement stairs and watched his mother with out her seeing him. He watched as she bent over removed her shorts to put them in the washing machine. He was sure she believed she was alone in the house. But he had seen her bare ass and that tiny spot between her ass cheeks. Now a year later he was seeing such a spot up close and he had even touched it. Every time he saw Linda's tiny ass hole Chris thought of his mother. He could not tell Linda what he was thinking but on the other hand he could not stop himself from thinking of his mother's sweet ass hole.

Chris climbed the stairs to his bedroom still thinking of his mother and how sexy she was. 


Chris was thinking of his mother much more than a young man should and of course he knew all too well how wrong it was for a boy to think of his mother in this way. But he liked to think of his mother naked lying on her bed with her legs spread waiting for him to mount her. Waiting for him to press down on her so she could feel his cock fill her pussy. Chris missed a step and nearly fell back down the stairs. He smiled and thought if I break my neck I'll never get to fuck my mother.

Chris passed his mother's bedroom door. It was ajar he paused and pushed it open far enough so he could get his head in. He wanted to just get a peak of his mother as she slept. He wanted to see her shape as he had left Linda. He thought of the out line and shadows cast by the street light. There were no street lights here but there was that night light his mother kept on near the bathroom door. 

Chris's eyes were well adjusted to the dim light as he focused on the bed. Shirley was naked sleeping on top of the sheets. She was on her side facing away from the bedroom door. Chris smiled as the dim light shinned like a beacon reflecting off the twin globes of her firm ass. He could not see that tiny spot he lusted for but he knew where it was and what it looked like. 

Even at this distance he could smell the scented soap his mother used in her nightly bath. Chris moved into the room kneeling at the side of the bed. His face just inches from his mother's round ass. He took a deep breath taking in the smell of her and thinking he would love to lick her little puckered hole. He was so excited his cock ached to be free on his confining jeans. 

He stood dropping his jeans to the floor. He wanted so very much to wake his mother show her his manly cock and tell her he wanted to fuck her. His mind was doing all kinds of crazy thing and he was shaking all over while he jerked on his hard cock.

Thoughtless of anything else he placed his face close to his mother's sweet smelling behind. He pushed his tongue between the plump ass cheeks and touched the tiny puckered hole. For God's sake he was licking his mother ass hole. Was he crazy? What if she woke how would he ever explain his crazy behavior. 

He was about to pull back when his mother let out a soft moan. He froze in position his tongue sill touching the sweet tightly squeezed hole. His mother moaned again and this time it was different it was more of a deeper more sexual sound more like when Linda was getting ready to climax. Mother was making the same deep guttural sound. 

Chris titillated her anus with his tongue. His face was now pressed into the sweetly scented crack of her ass his tongue licking the anus. He could not stop now. What if she woke, what would he do. Maybe she's having a dream; maybe tomorrow she'd think it was a dream. Maybe she'll not remember it at all. Maybe, maybe, maybe and maybe she'll wake up and kill him.

Christopher was not thinking now he was moving on instinct. He had never done this to Linda. He was going crazy and he knew it but he did not care he had gone too far to stop. 

Chris slipped his middle finger up under his chin and was applying pressure to that tiny space between his mother's pussy and her sweet ass hole. Chris felt the wetness of her dribbling out. His mother was very wet. He placed the wet tip of his finger to the wet tiny hole he had been licking. He applied an ever so light pressure. The tiny hole relaxed the tip of his finger passed easily into his mother rectum. 

Chris was so scared she thought "Now what?" if he stopped his mother would surely awaken. He was dead no matter what he did. He pushed his finger tip deeper into her ass. His ring finger touched her wet pussy.


He thought "Oh shit." Then pushed that finger into her pussy. Not all the way but just between the wet lips.

He was fucked, he was dead he'd be in jail before morning. He was molesting his sleeping mother. Surely there was a law against that. "Oh fuck." He was so screwed. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? Chris pulled his fingers out of both holes and move back slowly. Shirley moaned but did not move. Chris grabbed his jeans and ran from the room as quietly as he could. Once back in his room he felt so sick he placed his head in the toilet he did not toss his guts but he sure felt like it.

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt Chris approached the kitchen. He heard his mother on the phone. She was saying "I know we talked about transference of affections Doctor and I thought that was all past." Pause "No it was a dream and I'm still dreaming of my son. The sex was so real I was so very close to a climax I was all wet with a discharge this morning. We have to talk." Pause "Well alright I can wait until then. I can make that appointment. But this dream was so real. I still don't understand why I'm having sex dreams of my own son. I'm not seeing any one and no I don't want to have sex indiscriminately with just any one. I have no idea why my dreams are of sex with my son. I really don't know if he is sexually active or not. I don't see why that would make any difference anyway. Yes I will see you then. Thank you goodbye."

Chris turned back away from the kitchen door to let his mind take in what he had heard. His mother was having dreams of him and sex. Or was it sex with him. "God all mighty." this was too fucking weird.

He stepped into the kitchen and smiling said "Morning Mom great day."

He noticed his mother was visibly shaken and not her normal self. So he said "Are you alright Mom you don't look well?"

Shirley said "I'm fine I just did not sleep too well. What time did you get in?"

"I'm sorry but Ned and I got to playing that new game and I kind of ran a little late. I heard you moaning when I came in. Were you having a bad dream?"

Shirley sat down with a cup of coffee and hung her head. "It was not a bad dream just not one I want to repeat."

Chris smiled to himself and said "I've had a couple of those. But you know we can not control our dreams. I once dreamed of something I would have been so ashamed of if anyone could ever read my dreams. It was not a bad dream either it was just not something most people would consider immoral and against normal thinking. I've had it a few times and I never know when or why I have this dream. Silly I know but I kind of like the idea of it now. I guess dreams kind of change your way of thinking. Was your dream kind of like that?"

Shirley was looking at her son with a funny crazy mixed up graze over the eyes. She said "Would you tell me about your dream Chris? I'd really like to know about it."

Chris said "It was kind of outlandish but I'll tell you my dream if you promise to tell me yours."

Shirley looked at her son and thought "Chris is old enough now to under stand feelings about sex. Maybe it would do me good to get it out in the open and be honest about it."

Shirley said "If you're totally honest with me I will be with you. I think you're old enough to understand how a widow feels and that a woman my age has needs. So yes I'll tell you my crazy dreams if you tell me yours. Okay."

Chris said "I guess I have to start by telling you I'm not a virgin any more. I know you may think I'm too young for sex but it happened so let's not go there okay."

Shirley nodded in agreement and waited for Chris to proceed.

Chris poured himself a cup of coffee and looked his mother in the eye. "My first dream of this kind was shortly after Dad died. I had sex for the first time about that time. I was pretty well mixed up about sex and what to do during sex.

Jerry Becker had one of those sex movies and we watched it and I got very aroused and all that I saw started creeping into my dreams. I guess I really liked the part about oral sex. I did not do that when I lost my virginity. But the movie really gave me a lot to think about. But what was so weird was that I was now screwing every one I knew, in my dreams of course. Then one night I was really horny and I was in my bed with a hard-on and you came into my dream." 

Chris paused and let his mother get the picture in her mind then went on. "I know boys are not supposed to think about their mother's in that way but it was only a dream and of course I could not control it. You came into my room and stood by the bed looking at my cock. I was so scared and I wanted to hide it but you took my cock in your hand and jerked me off. 

I woke with cum all over me and the bed. I later looked this up in the library and found that most boys do fantasized about their mother and this was perfectly normal. So after that I kind of liked the idea of dreaming of us having sex. I know I was looking at you in a different way for a long time. Then I met a lady and started having sex with her and kind of forgot about dreaming about you. I leaned a lot from this lady and them after I stopped seeing her I started dreaming about you again. The only difference is now I know so much more and I've had sex in so many different ways. I was and am still dreaming of having sex with you Mom in every way I know. I've come to enjoy the thought of us having sex and I'm thrilled when ever I fuck you or you suck my cock. I've even dreamed of licking you pussy until you have a climax and I really do enjoy that. 


I'm sorry about the language but its the way we talk in my dreams. I like it when you talk sexy to me. I hope you understand these are only dreams."

Shirley was sobbing and holding back her tears the best she could but not doing a very good job of it.

Chris said "Wow, Mom I'm so sorry. But you wanted to know about my dreams I did not what to hurt you in any way. I'm so sorry."

"Oh Christopher; Christopher I'm not crying because of what you've said. Its just that your dreams are the mirror image of my own. I've been so up set because of my dreams and the consequences of them have been driving me crazy. I think now that we're talking open about it I'll understand this thing the doctor calls transference of affection. I don't think it will up set me so bad any more. I really do think I'll feel much better now. I also don't think I need to see the doctor many more."

Chris looked at his mother and asked "But you promised to tell me what your dreams were about. I want to know what you dreamed."

Shirley looked at her son and said "My dreams were the same as yours."

Chris said "So tell me. You promised."

Shirley understood then that Chris wanted her to tell him the intimate details of her dreams. She heard his words all over again how he wanted to make love to her and his reaction when he thought of her. These was what some doctors say is normal when boys start to think of sex they first think of having sex with their mothers. But her dreams had come about after the sudden death of her husband and the shock of loosing a loved one. 

Shirley knew all the words and had used them in the throws of passion. She knew what her son wanted to hear and she knew all too well that it would cause him to become aroused. 

Shirley had talked dirty many years ago to the first boy that had taken her virginity. She liked it them and talking dirty had aroused her too. Her husband had also enjoyed the sexy words during sex. So why should it be any different with her son. He was nearly a grown man. He was still in school even though he was eighteen because of the year of school he lost after the accident he was in when his father lost his life. He had just admitted he was having sex with an older lady and he knew a lot about sex. But Shirley felt that for Chris it was more than just words she got the feeling Chris was really serious about having sex with her. 

For one second she allowed herself to remember the dreams she had early on just after the death of her husband. They seemed so real and she remembered in detail how aroused she had become. All the crazy dreams flashed though her mind as she looked at the broad shoulders of her son and knew he was all man. He had been with more than one lady. She had a flash vision of her son deep between some woman's legs. 

Shirley said "Oh, all right I did promise. First would you tell me who the lady is that you've having sex with?'

Chris smiled and said "Later Mom later. Now get on with your dreams."

Shirley poured another cup of coffee and after she took a sip she smiled and said "The first dreams I started having were just a few months after Father died. You were still in that body cast and needed help getting to the bathroom. At first helping you was simply a job a loving mother was doing for her son. But then the dreams started and each time I took you penis in my hand I got aroused then later I would have a dream of having sex with you."

Chris said "Tell me about the sex. What kind of sex?"

Shirley said "At first it was just mildly arousing with me touching you. Then one night I dreamed of having oral sex with you and I climaxed in my dream. That was when I started seeing Doctor Bruck. He said it was all normal and I should not worry about it too much. But for awhile they got pretty intents. I got to wanting to dream and I let myself enjoy having the dreams." Shirley looked at her son and knew he wanted more details so she said "I dreamed of us making love all over the house. Sometimes it was with the cast on and sometimes with it off. Mostly when I dreamed of you in the cast we would have oral sex.' Shirley smiled and said "I enjoyed sucking you cock and I liked you coming in my mouth." 

This seemed to brighten Chris's eyes and a smiled formed across his wide mouth. 

Shirley felt a pang of sexual desire shoot through her like a bolt of lightening. But she pulled herself together and went on.

I'm only guessing here but about the same time as when you started becoming sexually active my dreams seemed to subside. I think somehow I knew you were having sex and I no longer had the dreams. I talked to the doctor and he said they were passing normally. 

Then here lately I started again with more vivid dreams and I've started masturbating during the day. I had a dream that was so vivid I woke up all wet and I think I had a climax in my sleep."

Chris said "Mom did you dreams I was licking you? I mean did you dream I was licking your anus. Was I licking your ass and fingering your cunt at the same time? I've wanted to do that for so long. Mom I have wanted to fuck and lick your pussy and ass. It drives me nut wanting you so much."




Making the Grade



Shirley said "My God; how did you know I dreamed that?"

She looked at her son and knew in an instant he had been in her room while she slept and that he may have touched her in her sleep. 

Chris stood and quickly unzipped his jeans he was naked under this jeans. Shirley watched as a man size cock sprang forth. He took his cock in his hand and slowly milked it bring a drop of creamy fluid to the tip. 

Chris said "Touch me like you did in your dreams. Feel how hard my cock is. Feel the heat of my cock. Squeeze it and jerk it. Play with my cock and when you get me really hard I want to fuck you and watch as you suck the life out of my cock."

Shirley was blinded by the thoughts she was having and the deep warmth of her needs. She felt herself getting so very wet. She wanted to touch her son. But somewhere deep inside she knew it was wrong and this was incest of the worst kind. Then she blurted out "Tell me who the woman is you've been with?"

Chris said "I'll tell you if you take my cock in your mouth."

Shirley some how rationalized this to be a trade off bargain so without thinking she moved to his side of the table and knelt down grabbing his cock as she went.

Chris cried out "Holy fuck." As he watched the head of his cock disappear. He said "I first fucked old lady Grimes when I mowed her lawn last year and here lately I've been fucking my math teacher. Oh God all might I'm going to cum. Oh fuck. Suck my cock Mom Suck my god damn cum. Suck it all and swallowed it too. Christ. Fuck. Ohooo shit."

Shirley tasted the pungent thick fluid spurt across her tongue. She savored and taste and the strong smell filled her nostrils. She loved this so much. If had been so long. She thought "Oh God no. I'm sucking my own sons' cock and he is coming in her mouth. God no this could not be happening."


Shirley jerked back her head ripping his cock free from her mouth. The next large spurt of semen hit her on her upper lip. Chris grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back to his cock. 

Shirley opened her mouth letting the pulsating cock throb unimpeded until it slowed then stopped.

Chris watched as his mother pulled back letting his cock slip from her mouth. He watched as she flicked her tongue over her upper lip wiping away the last drop of his cum.

Chris crashed to the floor taking his mother in his arms. They hugged clinging together for a long time before either moved. Each had their own thoughts and dreams of the future. They were different dreams but not that different. Mother and son had reached an impasse and were now forever locked together in love, passion and a lustful incestuous relationship.

They moved to the bedroom and were locked in each other arms. Both naked, both grabbing and feeling each other with the intensity of new lovers.

"Mom lay back I want to lick your pussy. I want to make you climax with my tongue. You did such a great job of sucking my cock I want to lick you to a climax. I want to fuck you with my tongue. Would you like that?"

Shirley grunted and pulled her son's head down between her legs. Mother and son locked in the throws of passion. Chris did in deed brig his mother to a full and earth shaking climax time and time again. Shirley cried out wanting her son to give her more. Finely exhausted the pair rested breathing deeply falling asleep side by side. 

It was dusk when Shirley woke. She sat up looked at her son resting peacefully on his back with his cock falling between his thighs. Shirley shook her head to clear the thoughts from it. What had she done? What would she do next? What would she do if Chris wanted sex again? 


So many questions she was feeling sick. She had to get away and have some time to think. But how?

Chris would graduate in just three more weeks. Shirley thought of Linda his math teacher having sex with her son. Linda was nearly her age. What was that woman thinking about? Shirley paused and thought what was she thinking about. Linda was no worse than she was maybe not as bad since Linda was not a close relative a very close relative. Shirley slipped out of bed and went down to the kitchen. 

There on the cork board was Linda's phone number. Should she call this person? What would she say? Maybe they had some thing in common. Yes; maybe they were both crazy, two sex crazed old women wanting the body of a younger man. 

Shirley grabbed the phone.



Making the Grade



Sometimes we do things that we don't enjoy to get ahead. Sometimes we enjoy them very much, this is one of those times.

History of the middle ages, not the most exciting class, you had picked it because it looked easy. A simple way to pad your average and get some credit hours. Things however aren't always as easy as they seem. For starters you couldn't stop fantasizing about you professor in class and your marks where showing it. Despite your best efforts you just couldn't pay attention.

You can't really blame yourself, Prof. Miller was just so damn sexy. He was young, tall, fit and disarmingly handsome. Something about his calm confidence and smooth voice just turned you on as he lectured. Not to mention he had the best body in the entire classroom, at least that was what some of the other girls in class said. They had seen him in the campus Gym. Although he was of a leaner build he was frame was still muscular, you had never seen an inch of softness on his hard body. 

Normally he was dressed rather casually when he lectured, dress shirt with black jeans. You particularly liked this outfit because when he would write anything on the board because he had a habit of rolling up his sleeves and giving you a view of his muscular arms. 

Once in a while however he would come straight from the gym. Wearing only a tight rash guard and fight shorts, so much of him showed you could not help noticing whenever you shifted in your seat how your panties would rub against your clit. The show before you building a feeling of raw desire, urging you to finger yourself right then and there as you stared at your sexy teacher. 

Halfway through the semester, you realized how much trouble this constant teasing is causing.

You're almost failing the least difficult of all your classes, because every time you go to study you keep thinking back to Prof. Miller. You kept ending up naked, soaking wet and fingering yourself till sweet release. 

Something has to change and soon, making up your mind you decide it's time to go to the professors after class evening help group. The group portion however, was exaggerated as you entered the classroom to see no one. Professor Miller was sitting back, legs propped up against his desk reading a book with his headphones in.

He looked nothing like he did in class, wearing a graphic T-shirt and tight black jeans he would have looked more in place at a bar than in a classroom. He looked up as you approached with mild surprise. "I thought no one cared about their grades in my class. How can I help you cutie?" He chuckled to himself.

Surprised and flattered, you couldn't help raise an eyebrow and question "Cutie, professor?" You had taken more than the average time making sure you looked sexy and perfect.

Laughing Prof. Miller replied. "It's long after hours, little lady. Right now it's just two adults learning some history." Leaning forward in his chair and offering you one.

"You can call me Greg too, people calling me professor makes me feel way older than I am." he explained still smiling that small smile he always seemed to have.

"Alright... Greg, can you show me what I will need to know for the next test." Falling into the seat beside him.

As you two settled in you couldn't help but feel like this was like a dream come true, one on one time with your hot teacher. He had just called you cute and you could tell he was checking you out as he explained the finer points of what you would need to know.

While he jotted down some notes for you, Prof. Miller paused for a second and catching his eyes on your breasts, you get suddenly bold and call him out. Pressing your chest out so your hard nipples are clearly visible through the fabric.

"Am I distracting your professor?" You say as innocently as possible.

Sensing he was busted, Prof. Miller blushed deeply and snapped his eyes up to meet yours. Winking he replied "Yeah sorry little lady, sometimes it would be nice to be blind. That way I can't be distracted by my students."

Pressing the opening, you shoot back "Well, I'm not your student right now, remember Greg? I get distracted by you sometimes too." 

History forgotten, Prof. Miller leaned back as if thinking and you caught a glimpse of a very noticeable bulge in his pants. 

The sight of which was getting you excited, raising a hand to your breasts and teasing the V of your shirt to show even more cleavage. "Think you could help me with something else professor?" you ask coyly.

"That depends, can you be discreet little lady?" Prof. Miller said looking very serious.

"Of course, professor" you reply looking into those amazing eyes.

"Then I'd be happy to help you, what is it you needed?" Your sexy teacher asked playfully.

"I was hoping you would fuck me professor." You answer blushing furiously at the audacity of what you were asking. 

"I'd love too" Prof. Miller said, pulling you up from the chair and moving close. Catching you into a kiss and running his strong arms over your body. His strong hands grabbed your ass and drew you against his hard body, you felt his hard on through his pants. Running your arms down his muscular arms and legs. As your hands grasp his hard on, just as his hands find your breasts. 

He pulled them out of your top, his teasing felt great. Pinching and rubbing your sensitive nipples as you rubbed his hard cock through his jeans. One of his hands then slid down and to rest over your pussy, rubbing you through the fabric. The indirect attention to your pussy and clit making you squirm in pleasure, trying to get his fingers in the right spot. 

Unzipping his jeans, and letting them fall releases Prof. Miller's sizable shaft from its confines. Taking as much as you could in both hands, feeling its size and hardness. Pleased in both respects your anticipation only grew as he removed your shirt and shorts. 

Leaving you in your panties he bent down, slid them to one side and placed a kiss to your lower lips. Feeling yourself shudder as he licked and sucked your pussy. Catching your clit between his teeth and teasing it with his tongue. The feeling is so amazing that you quickly feel yourself building to an orgasm.

At that the moment he slips a finger inside, you clamp down and roughly grind your hips against him desperate to fuck. Taking the hint, the professor lifts you onto his desk and plants his shaft against your pussy, slipping the head in and teasing, before slamming it home, pumping your pussy with his powerful legs. Driving his nice hard cock deep inside your tight pussy.

Horny, eager and overstimulated, you climaxed almost right away. The spasms causing your pussy to clamp down over his dick, despite this he just pushes harder, spreading your pussy lips apart regardless of the resistance of your tightening kegal's. 

Moaning in pleasure, only spurs him onward into you finding your G-spot. Crying out in pleasure as he fucked you deep and rough. The feeling was overwhelming, fucking you straight into a second orgasm. This time he joined you, cumming deeply inside you and finishing with long deep thrusts that bottom you out and cause you to scream pleasure as waves of sheer pleasure wash over your body. Leaving the pair of you spent and relaxing on the desk as you recover.

"So Greg about that test?" you ask smiling at him.

"Little lady, keep coming for private lessons and I'm certain your marks will improve." He said smiling ear to ear.

Getting an A has never been so much fun.



Making the Grade



"Okay, everyone!" English Professor Jon Dowd's voice boomed across the lecture hall. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and sighed as a hush fell over the hall. Jon took his place at the lectern and recited the speech he'd given to every English Literature Lecture Series class since he'd begun his lengthy career at West Pine Community College nearly 20 years before. He called it his "Come to Jesus" lecture. Only two weeks into the semester, Jon had already lost ten students to voluntary withdrawal, another six were in danger of being withdrawn for failure to perform academically. Out of the 65 students remaining, he knew another 10 would flunk the course, not because the material was too difficult, but because they thought his class would be an easy one. They were wrong. Jon's lecture series was his baby, refined and reformed over the years to hit all of the most important works of literature and their authors. Jon prided himself on being strict without being draconian. 

"I know some of you are having trouble with the course load." Jon began his summary, "If you are finding that you can't handle this particular course, then I would urge you to think over the next few days, whether you can manage or if you should withdraw. If you choose to continue, you will be expected to hand in the work on time and to show up."

A few students rolled their eyes, most simply stared at their desk.

"If you need help, don't be afraid to ask for it." Jon continues, "There is no excuse for failing this class."

Turning his back on them, Jon strode to the whiteboard and wrote out the next essay assignment.

"Next Friday, I want to see a real effort from all of you, to delve into the writings of Dylan Thomas." A collective groan erupted from about half of the class. Jon turned and waited for silence. 

"All next week, we'll compare different examples of Thomas' works and your essays should reflect some of that as well. Don't think you can hand in your honors English Thesis from Junior year, I want fresh new work from all of you." With that said, Jon made a shooing gesture at the door and dismissed his class. 

Despite all of the minor headaches, Jon loved his job. He loved the idea of bringing his students an understanding of some of the most influential written works known to man. He liked to think that he was doing his job well and he took pride in all of the assignments he handed out. 

After his last class, Jon spent an hour in the campus fitness room. Nearing fifty, he took great pride in his athletic build and had vowed early on not to let himself go. By 6:00 pm, he was back in his office to gather his brief case and the stack of essays he'd collected and drove home humming to himself. 

Jon sighed as he took the turn into his driveway, the front door lit by the porch light. He sat in his car momentarily and steeled himself for the trip into the house. While Jon was happy with his career and satisfied with himself as a teacher, one aspect of Jon's life was lacking. After 15 years of marriage, Jon's wife had grown cold and distant. She no longer initiated physical contact and often spent more time harping at him than anything else. With a deep resignation, Jon forced himself out of the car and through the front door. All through dinner, Jon worked to engage Jen in friendly conversation. Tonight she complained about his inability to put his coffee mug in the dishwasher in the morning. After 20 minutes of listening to her bitch at him, Jon retreated to his office saying he had papers to grade. 

Breathing a sigh of relief as he closed the door, he flopped heavily into his chair and rested for a moment. Jon thought about the first years of their marriage -- the passion Jen had shown towards him, and he wondered silently why she no longer wanted his company. Shaking off the disappointment, Jon picked up the stack of essays from the lecture class and began to read. Half-way through the stack Jon looked up at the clock. It was after midnight, he was certain Jen had gone to bed hours ago, so he crept quietly to the kitchen and helped himself to beer. Returning to the stack of papers, Jon was reading one student's insightful take on William Blake's "Tiger,Tiger". He was impressed by the girl's writing style and he flipped back to the first page to check the name -- Sasha Connor, he smiled. Jon wrote a few comments on the essay and added a note at the end "Very insightful. Nice job." When Jon set the essay aside, he tried to recall the young lady who had penned the essay, but was unable to put a face to the name. 

Jon spent most of the weekend grading papers in his office and avoiding his wife. He was grateful for Monday morning and drove to the college with a smile. Normally, on Monday morning Jon would hand out the graded essays without comment, today however he stood at the front of the room and smiled at the students. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," He began, "I just wanted to let you all know that it was my distinct pleasure to award the first A of the year. Sasha Connor, could you please come up and get your essay."

Jon watched as a young, slim brunette stood in the back row. Sasha was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a skin tight tee shirt. She walked to the front of the room with her head down, obviously uncomfortable with the attention. When she reached the lectern, she looked up with bright, intelligent brown eyes and he smiled warmly. 

"Very nice work, Sasha." Jon handed the essay back to her. "Everyone else, well done, I am please to say that most of the grades were Bs and no one received and F."

Jon handed out the rest of the papers and then gave the first of his lectures on the works of poet Dylan Thomas. The rest of the week went smoothly, the only difficulties coming from his home life. Jon considered himself lucky to at least have a job he loved. During the lectures, Jon noticed that Sasha was bright and attentive, seeming to soak up every word. Though she participated very little in the discussion portions, he knew that she understood the material. Friday arrived and another stack of essays went into his brief case for home. 

John was half-way to his car when he heard a panicked cry from behind him. He snapped his head around and saw Sasha barreling toward him. 

"Professor Dowd! Stop!" She yelled and barreled toward him. 

"Sasha, what's wrong?" Jon waited for her to catch up to him. 

"My -- essay," she panted, "I -- need -- it -- back." "Why?" A slight irritation crept into Jon's voice. 

"I...made a mistake." Sasha's voice was strained and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. 

"I'm sure it's fine." Jon reassured her. Over the years he'd experienced his share of female dramatics over perceived 'mistakes'. Most of the time, the 'mistake' was nothing more than a comma or period out of place. 

"No!" Tears began to fall from her eyes, "You don't understand! I handed in the wrong paper -- it's just a rough draft."

"Sasha," Jon sighed, "I'm sure it isn't nearly as bad as you think."

"Please," She pleaded with him, her hands shaking as she held out another essay, "I have the right one here, just -- give me the other one."

Jon was taken aback by her desperation. Her hysterics made him wonder if she may have plagiarized some aspect of the essay and was afraid she would be expelled.

"Listen to me, Sasha," Jon's voice took on a stern paternal tone, "I can't give you your paper back. That wouldn't be right."

Sasha's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Please," She whispered one last time, "I'll die if you read it."

Jon raised his eyebrows at her statement.

"Tell you what," He offered gently, "I'll accept this new essay, and as long as you 'rough draft' doesn't contain anything unethical, this whole incident will be our little secret, okay?"

Sasha nodded, still sniffling. She held out the paper, Jon took it from her and before he could say another word, she turned and fled. Left staring after her, Jon shook his head and sighed at the unnecessarily dramatic display. He stuffed the paper in his bag and drove home to face another round of miserable bitching from his wife. 

After dinner, Jon settled down in his office with the stack of essays. Rather than search for Sasha's, he simply started at the top and worked his way through the pile. An hour later, a good portion of the stack was gone. Jon stood and stretched, still dreading the thought that he might have to report Sasha for cheating. Jon snuck into the kitchen and helped himself to beer. He had just popped the top when Jen entered the room. 

"Oh," she looked disappointed, "I didn't know you were in here."

"Just taking a quick break." Jon apologized for being in his own kitchen. 

Jen tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave. "Watching a movie?" He attempted a benign conversation with his wife. 

"Yup." She answered and stared at the microwave. 

"Want me to join you?" He asked, ever hopeful. 

"Uh, no, it's fine." Jen brushed him off, "I'm sure you have lots of work to do."

The microwave beeped and before he could say anything else, Jen retreated to the living room. 

Jon sighed and returned to his office, beer in hand. Giving in to curiosity, Jon picked up the paper Sasha had handed him in the parking lot. A brief read through offered no obvious signs of plagiarism. Sasha's assessment of Thomas' poems was thorough and intelligent. He set the essay to one side and continued with the pile. There were only a few papers left, when Sasha's original turned up. Jon braced himself and began to read. The first two pages were identical to the other essay, and Jon wondered what the fuss was about. The shock came on page three. 

Jon blinked at the words on the page and, turning back to page two, he read the last line again:

It is evident in Thomas' poem 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night' that his depression...

...stroking him as she ran her tongue over his thick throbbing cock.

On page three something had gone terribly awry, instead of the conclusion of her essay, Sasha had accidentally stapled an erotic vignette that would have made a porn start blush. 

"Oh, my." Jon muttered to himself, realizing that Sasha's fears came not from expulsion, but from exposure. Jon read on and by the time he reached the bottom of the page, his cock throbbed insistently. 

Jon thought about what to do, he now knew that Sasha's essay was not plagiarized and he felt he should honor his word. However, the thought of discussing the erotic fantasy included in the first version frightened him. His cock wilted slightly at the imagined conversation and the consequences he could face if he were accused of sexual harassing a student. 

The sex scene that Sasha had written stopped mid-sentence at the end of the page and Jon spent a fleeting moment fantasizing about reading the whole thing. The throbbing ache in his groin returned and he absently brushed his hand over the front of his pants. Relieved that Sasha would not be expelled and feeling more than a little horny, Jon locked the 'first draft' in the top drawer of his desk and headed upstairs to bed. It was 1 AM when he crawled in beside Jen and he flirted briefly with the idea of rubbing his hardness against her to wake her up, but he felt that wouldn't go over well. Instead he lay in bed, and willed sleep to come. 

The next day, Jon found himself returning to his office to read Sasha's paper over and over again. By dinner time, the exercise had done nothing but leave him hot and hard with no sign of relief. Jen was loading the dishwasher when Jon made a decision and came up behind her in the kitchen. Jen jumped when he embraced her and he felt her muscles tense up. He pressed his erection against the small of her back in explanation. 

"Want to go upstairs?" Jon teased, ever hopeful that Jen would have a change of heart about him. Instead she snorted in derision, "No."

Jon pulled back, his affection rebuffed. With a deep frustrated sigh, he turned on his heel and locked himself in his office. Re-reading Sasha's erotic scene for the tenth time, Jon gave in to his own needs. Seated in his office chair he unbuttoned his jeans and freed his aching member. Cock in hand, Jon closed his eyes and pictured Sasha, her slim hips and the gentle swell of her firm tits. Jon pictured her naked, a curtain of dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she rode him. Jon stroked his cock, imagining the feel of Sasha's tight pussy. He let himself want her, he stroked faster needing the rush of release. What pushed him over the edge was the thought of Sasha's full pink lips closing around his shaft, he gasped and erupted hot, sticky liquid all over himself. 

Ashamed of himself and tired of his wife's abuse, Jon spent the next two nights sleeping on the couch in his office. Jon approached Monday morning with trepidation and excitement. On one hand he couldn't wait to get out of his house; Jen either didn't care that he was sleeping in his office or hadn't noticed, but either way the atmosphere of the house had passed chilly and entered the arctic zone. However, anxiety over having to face Sasha, made Jon linger in his car and he entered the lecture hall two minutes late. 

"Good morning, good morning!" He called out as he took his place at the lectern.

"Yet another Monday and I am pleased to announce another A essay from Sasha Connor and also an A effort from Devon Small, both of you please come and get your essays, excellent job as always and I am very happy with the efforts most of you are making. Those of you who are not seeing the grades you desire, again I urge you to consider whether or not you should be in this class. The final day for voluntary withdrawal is Friday, after that if you are removed it will be, with an F."

Sasha had approached the lectern, her face a deep crimson color. Jon gave her a knowing smile and continued on with his class. Over the next week Jon found it difficult to concentrate on his lectures, he often found himself seeking eye contact with Sasha and though her general discomfort faded slightly, she still hesitated at meeting his gaze for long periods of time. Periodically through the week, Jon found himself becoming aroused in the middle of class as his thoughts wandered back to Sasha's erotic prose. He'd initially intended to give the paper back, but at the last minute, he'd left it locked in his office drawer, unwilling to part with the fantasy connection. 

Thursday arrived and when Sasha passed him on the way in the door Jon whispered, "I was wondering if you could stay for few minutes after class?"

Sasha blushed and nodded, a look of fear on her young face. Jon blew through the lecture in record time, and dismissed the class ten minutes early. As the students filed out of the room, Sasha remained at her desk in the back row. Finally alone, Jon waved her to the front of the room and stepped down from the lectern. 

"How are you?" He asked gently.

"Fine." She replied staring down at her shoes. 

"I just wanted to assure you that, uh, nothing about your rough draft caused me any concern." He smiled and willed her to look him in the eye. 

"Oh, god!" Sasha covered her face with her hands, "I'm so embarrassed."

"It's okay." Jon chuckled, "I didn't tell anyone."

"I don't know how I did that, how I let that happen." Sasha looked on the verge of tears again. 

"Relax," Jon urged her, "I found the writing style very -- provocative."

Sasha's cheeks colored again and Jon chuckled. 

"Honestly," he confessed, "It was very good." Taking a deep breath Sasha finally met his eyes, a faint, self-conscious pride glowed from her lightly tanned skin. 

"Really?" She asked, biting her bottom lip.

"Really." It was Jon's turn to blush; the confession and her proximity making his cock stir in his shorts. 

"Um, thanks." She murmured gently, looking away from him. "Can I have it back now?"

"Oh, that." Jon cleared his throat, "Well, I don't have it with me. I left it at home."

Sasha looked confused, Jon blushed again, not wanting to admit that he'd kept the essay only so he could re-read it one last time. 

"I'll bring it tomorrow," He promised, "You can pick it up after class." 

"Okay." Sasha let out a breath of relief and Jon picked up his briefcase, signaling the end of their conversation. 

"See you tomorrow, Sasha." Jon winked at her and left the room. 

That night Jon didn't even attempt to speak to Jen and she seemed fine with ignoring him as well. 2 AM found Jon wide awake and staring at the ceiling of his office, thoughts of Sasha filling his mind and inflating his cock. He'd reread her story three times that night, each time fighting the urge to stroke himself. Finally at 2:30 he gave up, allowing his mind to pull up the images of her denim clad ass and the low cut top that accented her small, firm breasts. Jon worked his hand into his boxers, taking a firm grip of his manhood as he imagined her long tan legs wrapped around his waist. He pictured his hands cupping her ass as he buried himself to the hilt in her tight wetness. Jon pumped his fist furiously, wishing it was her hand that gripped him so fiercely. He let the fantasy carry him away and in the moment before he exploded in ecstasy, he wondered what her pussy would taste like. 

Jon muffled a moan as cum burst from the head of his cock. He lay panting, the relief of orgasm washing over him and fell into a restless sleep. The next morning Jon showered and stuffed Sasha's paper into his briefcase with a sigh of regret and drove to the campus. Once again after the lecture was over, he asked Sasha to stay for a moment.

Alone she gazed up at him, nervous apprehension apparent on her face. 

"I just wanted to return this to you." He held the paper out to her.

"Thank you!" She gushed gratitude. 

"You're welcome." Jon smiled, "But, I'm sorry to see it go."

Sasha blushed, grinning with pride.

"I was wondering..." Jon continued, "if, uh, I could, maybe, read the whole thing." Jon was nervous that she'd deny his request, but he had decided to risk rejection on the off chance she'd allow him access to the whole fantasy. 

"The whole thing?" Sasha looked confused, "You want to read the whole story?"

"Yes, please." Jon held his breath waiting for her reply. 

"Um, maybe." Sasha considered Jon for a moment, "Can I think about it?"

"Of course." He acquiesced, "I'll be in my office upstairs until 5 today, you can just let me know when you decide."

"Okay." She nodded and gave Jon a soft smile as she left the room.

Jon was seated at his desk in the liberal arts office building at 4:30. Typing grades into the database he'd nearly forgotten about Sasha. 

"Enter!" He ordered when someone knocked timidly at his door. Sasha slunk into the room, and Jon's pulse raced. 

"Hi," Sasha smiled self-consciously at him and he gestured her into a chair. 

"I didn't expect to see you." Jon confessed, his own cheeks coloring slightly as he switched off the computer monitor. 

"I know." She took a deep breath, "I wasn't sure I was coming, until I was half way here."

They stared at each other as the moments ticked by. Finally Sasha, cleared her throat and broke the silence.

"I've been thinking about what you asked me, and before I decide," She said softly, "I need to -- ask you something."

"Okay," Jon relaxed slightly. 

"Um, when you read my 'essay'," she smiled at the word, "Did it -- I mean, did you... like it? I mean did it, excite you?"

Her trepidation was obvious, the nervousness echoing as she attempted to discover whether or not her explicit vignette had turned him on. Jon leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his pen, carefully considering his answer. He took a deep breath and let it out, deciding on total honesty. 

"Yes," He looked her in the eye and set his inhibitions aside, "It excited me and I read it a thousand times."




Making the Grade



Sasha's eyes widened at his admission. Jon, on a roll, continued, "I can't stop thinking about it and I, thought maybe if I read the whole story, maybe -- I could finally stop thinking about it and stop walking around perpetually hard."

"Oh." Sasha giggled with surprise at his confession, covering her face with her hands for a moment, she looked up. "Okay."

She reached into her bag and produced a stack of paper, Jon guessed 10 pages, and placed them on the edge of the desk. 

"Here's the rest of it. The whole thing." She sighed and waited for a response. 

"Thank you, Sasha." The relief apparent in his voice.

"One condition," Sasha cautioned him, "Will you tell me what you think? Honestly, tell me if it's any good or not?"

Jon grinned wickedly, his cock already stirring. 

"I will." He promised. 

Without another word, Sasha rose and exited, the door clicking softly behind her. Jon rushed to gather his things, stuffing the new material in his briefcase and hurrying to his car for the short ride home. As he drove, his cock grew, driven by the anticipation of reading Sasha's work. His wife continued to ignore him, not even bothering to eat at the table with him, and retreating to the bedroom directly after. Jon was grateful for the silence and, beer in hand, retired to his office, locking the door behind him. 

Sasha's story did not disappoint him, he began reading and was instantly drawn into the story of a young nubile college student and her sexual escapades. The pages were filled with raw sexual desire. Jon's cock throbbed insistently and by page 5 his balls ached for release. Submitting to his base needs, Jon dropped his pants and pushed his shorts down to his ankles. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and stroked slowly, milky pre-cum leaking out of his head. Jon continued to read, the words rushing on as the main female character willingly took to her knees to lick and suck the male character's throbbing member. Reaching the end, Jon set the story down and closed his eyes, he imagined Sasha naked before him, her pale pink lips wet and inviting. Her tongue snaking out to caress the head of his cock, pumping faster now Jon moaned aloud and allowed his fantasy version of Sasha to take his throbbing shaft into her mouth. He imagined the feel of her warm wet mouth around his thickness, as she nibbled and sucked at him. He wanted her tiny hand to cup his balls while she sucked him. Jon lost himself to the fantasy, feeling her silky brown hair in his hands as he fucked her mouth. The orgasm burst from him, his muscles shaking as the waves of cum spilled onto the carpet. Totally spent, Jon waited for his heart rate to return to normal. The bright lights made him wince when he opened his eyes, the cum that hadn't hit the floor was dripping onto his thigh. Taking a deep shaky breath Jon stood and attempted to clean himself up slightly. Using tissues he wiped the cum from his leg and the rug and flushed the evidence of his self abuse. 

For the first time in two weeks, Jon slept deeply, the resolution of Sasha's story and the exhaustion of his self-pleasure leaving him sated for the night. The rest of the weekend dragged on. Jon feigned indifference, completing his usual routines trying to contain his thoughts about Sasha. He eyed his wife surreptitiously, wondering if she sensed the sexual charge surrounding him. Jen never even gave him a second look; they hadn't spoken to each other since the night she'd rejected him and he preferred it that way. Each night Jon locked himself in his office and reread Sasha's story. He lay on the couch and let his fantasies run wild. Jerking off to thoughts of Sasha, Jon's evenings were filled with thoughts of Sasha's naked form. With each word he read, his desire for her grew. He wanted her naked and pressed against him, he wanted to grind his cock between her tits, he wanted her to ride him while he suckled at her nipples, but most of all Jon dreamed of tasting her. He wanted to lodge his fingers firmly into her tight, wet pussy and run his tongue over her clit until he tasted her cum.

Jon hurried to class Monday morning, Sasha's story hidden in the pocket of his briefcase. He took his place at the lectern five minutes early and waited for the stragglers to be seated. Catching Sasha's eye Jon began:

"Good morning! I hope you all had a good weekend," He gave her a knowing smile, "I know I did."

Sasha returned his smile, and he began the day's lesson. At the conclusion of his lecture, Jon reminded his students of the nearing mid-term deadline. 

"By now you should have a subject in mind for your term paper. You will need to have that subject approved by me -- either send me an email proposal or make an appointment with my secretary upstairs and we'll go over the requirements." Jon gestured at the door, dismissing them. 

Sasha smiled at him as she passed, "Great lecture today, professor."

"Thanks Sasha," He smiled as she came to a stop in front of him. Jon's gaze drank her in, today she'd donned a white denim mini skirt, the frayed hem stopped mid-thigh, revealing slender, tanned legs. Silver high heeled sandals allowed him the view of her ice blue toenail polish. Her pink tee shirt was emblazoned with a giant pair of red cartoon lips, a purple tongue protruding lewdly between stark white teeth. 

"Should I stop by your office later to pick up my paper?" The grin spread across her face, "Get some of your thoughts on my work?"

"Sure," Jon's heart thumped against his rib cage, "Talk to Sarah upstairs and she'll fit you in."

"Okay." Sasha batted her lashes at him. "See you later."

Jon found that he had a hard time concentrating that day, the classes dragged on and he found it difficult to focus on the lessons. He headed to his office after his last class and asked his secretary for the appointment schedule. Sasha was to be his last appointment of the day and a shiver of anticipation rushed over him. Jon set the spreadsheet aside and took a deep, calming breath. The parade of students entered and left in ten minutes increments and Jon feigned interest in their chosen term paper subjects. All the while he watched as the minutes inched him closer to Sasha. 

Finally she knocked. 

"Hi," Jon greeted Sasha with a smile as she set her bag down and perched delicately on the edge of the chair across from him. 

"Hi," She echoed shyly, folding her hands in her lap and twisting the ring on her forefinger. 

Sasha held his gaze with steady curiosity, and John squirmed as the familiar stirring of need began in his loins. Sasha waited expectantly for Jon to say something. Instead he pulled the sheaf of papers out of his brief case and set them on her side of the desk. "Thank you." He said finally, his mouth going dry with anxiety as she continued to scrutinize him. 

"What did you think?" She tilted her head at him.

"It was incredible," He answered immediately, not giving himself a chance to change his mind, "I loved it."

"Really?" She was pleased by his compliment. 

"Really," Jon nodded, a bright smile filling his face, "Really."

"Can you -- uh, did it turn you on? Did it make you want to, you know -- um, jerk off?" Sasha's voice dropped to a husky whisper as she probed Jon for an honest assessment of her erotic fantasy. 

"Yes," Jon's cheeks flamed as he whispered. 

"And did you? Did you make yourself...cum?" Sasha squirmed in her chair, and it slowly dawned on Jon that hearing about his arousal was feeding hers. 

"Yes." Jon's cock was fully erect as he admitted to touching himself while reading Sasha's story. 

"Mm." Sasha gave a small moan, and shifted in the chair again. "Tell me?"

Jon's cock throbbed as his eyes darted around the room. 

"I don't-" he hesitated nervously, "think this is the best place for this conversation."

Sasha sucked in her bottom lip.

"Please?" She whispered, a desperate plea. 

Jon stared in shock, the naughty request making his cock stiffen even more, as he glanced at the closed door of the office. 

"Lock the door." Jon ordered, immediately questioning his inappropriate decision. 

Sasha complied, the metallic click of the deadbolt signaling the point of no return. Returning to her seat, Sasha stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to begin. 

"Tell me?" She whispered again, crossing her legs and tugging at the hem of her skirt. 

"Reading your story -- it made me hard." Jon cleared his throat, "The first part, um when she gets on her knees and takes Justin's limp cock in her mouth -- I could almost feel it."

"Do you like that?" Sasha purred, "When a woman goes down and you?"

"Yes." Jon closed his eyes. "The way you described him getting hard in her mouth, drove me crazy."

Sasha moaned and Jon opened his eyes. She had uncrossed her legs, her thighs parted slightly. 

"Did you touch yourself?" She asked, urging him for details. 

"Mm." Jon swallowed visibly, "Yes. I pictured my cock in your mouth and...I jerked off."

"Show me?" Sasha begged, her squirming caused her skirt to ride up on her thighs.

Jon's mind fogged over with desire, his hands shook as he unzipped his fly. Sasha gasped as most of his 8" rod came into view. Sasha sucked at her bottom lip and leaned back, parting her thighs even more, Jon caught sight of her naked lower lips. 

"Show me." Sasha moaned again, her delicate finger tips making their way to her clit. 

"Oh god," Jon moaned, his balls tightened at the sight of her. With a fierce and desperate need to please her, Jon wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and stroked, "When -- ah, in your story, when Kelsey climbs on top of Justin, I almost came in my hand -- god, you're so beautiful."

Sasha's fingers danced around her clit while she moaned, never taking her eyes off of his cock. 

"More," Sasha pleaded with him, "tell me all of it."

"I -- I," Jon stuttered, as he stroked faster, "I pictured you riding me, moaning."

"Do you like that?" Sasha whimpered as she fingered herself. "Having a girl ride you?"

"Mm." Jon fought to keep his voice down, "Your story -- it made me want to be inside you -- I want, oh god, I want you to suck on my cock and then ride me like that."

Jon pumped furiously, picturing Sasha on top of him. The orgasm shook him, cum erupted from the swollen purple head of his cock as Sasha's looked on with lusty appreciation. Jon closed his eyes and rested, waiting for the dizziness to subside. When he finally looked up she was smiling. He tucked his now limp dick back into his pants and used a tissue to clean up the sticky mess he'd made on the floor. Without saying a word, Sasha placed a stack of papers on his desk and left, the door closing softly behind her. 

Reality crashed down around Jon as the glow of his orgasm faded. Feeling an immediate need to flee his office, he stuffed Sasha's new story into his bag and locked the door behind him. Driving home, he fretted. While he felt a slight twinge of remorse for betraying his wife, the guilt of betraying his profession ethics gnawed at him. While he hadn't touched Sasha, he doubted any disciplinary Board would see it that way. The overwhelming panic at the thought of losing his job, made his stomach ache. He sat parked in his driveway and cursed himself for not having more self-control. In an attempt to redeem himself Jon vowed not to think of Sasha that way again. He left his briefcase containing her story, locked in the car.



Making The Grade



The school was empty as 18-year-old Sharon sat alone in her English Lit class, awaiting the return of her teacher, Mr. Smyth. It being a Friday, the school emptied even quicker than usual, and Sharon, a very pretty 5 foot 7 blonde senior, doubted anyone, from students to faculty, were still around.

Perhaps some administrators in the main office downstairs, but here on the third floor it was as empty and quiet as a tomb. She was also in danger of not graduating, since she was holding a solid F in this class. She'd been able to use her looks and charm to get decent grades in her other classes, but Mr. Smyth was a tough nut to crack. All she could do was sit at her desk, stare at the clock, and figure out a way to get her grade up. 

After almost 20 minutes Mr. Smyth returned. Sharon eyed him with disdain. Mr. Smyth was a stuffy old-school (some would say "old") sort of teacher, always complaining about how today's youth was spoiled from having too much and not getting enough discipline, or as he called it "proper discipline." Short and fat with weird hair, and some odd English accent, he gave off the air of an old time British professor with a condescending and narcissistic attitude. His deep breathing made him sound creepy, like some perverted old lech.

All in all there was absolutely nothing attractive about this guy. Sharon didn't even want to be in the same room with him, let alone the same room in an empty school. He closed the door behind him and sat at his desk. He said nothing as he shuffled through some paper. All Sharon could do was sit. And wait. And wait. And wait...

Finally Mr. Smyth spoke. "Now young lady, about your grade." She was about to say something but he quickly hushed her. "I can't understand how you are doing acceptable in your other classes, but pulling an F in mine. I should think you don't like me, or even respect me. I take very serious offense to this."

With a grunt he lifted his portly self off his chair and stood at the head of the class. She watched as he rolled a pen between his pudgy fingers. "And quite frankly the problem is all too obvious with your generation. What you all needed while growing up was proper discipline to teach you to respect we figures of authority. Instead you got iPhones and big screen TVs."

Sharon tried her damnedest to look interested.

Mr. Smyth continued. "In my day we were taught to respect our elders, especially our educators. And if we didn't (he emphasized the word "didn't") were could expect a proper discipline in the form of a good paddling." He turned and sat down at his desk.

Leaning forward, Mr. Smyth stared right at Sharon. "I've decided that enough is enough. It is high time I make an example of one of you delinquents, and that someone is you. You will fail this class, you will not graduate, and you will be left back. I will speak to the office first thing Monday morning."

Sharon was aghast. Not graduating was bad enough (she couldn't imagine her parents reaction), but the humiliation of being left back was too much. She was practically pleading when she asked if there was anything she could do to remedy the situation.

"I'm afraid there isn't" Mr. Smyth replied. "Like I said, your generation lacked the kind of proper discipline my generation received for our insolence. It's too late."

"Mr. Smyth," Sharon said "You mention proper discipline. What if I agreed to proper discipline?" Sharon added just a bit of seduction as she asked the last question. "What if I consented to a paddling, would that be good enough for a D?"

Sharon got up from her desk and walked over to Mr. Smyth. As much as it repulsed her, she had to play the hand she was dealt. It was time to play the looks and charm card and hoped it worked on Mr. Smyth. Her red heels clicked on the floor as she hooked one thumb into the waistband of her short skirt, thrusting out her perky breasts ever so slightly from behind her just-tight-enough blouse.

Mr. Smyth couldn't help but notice. "A D would be all I needed to pass and graduate." She noticed he shifted a bit in his seat as he obviously mulled it over. 

If he is a lech, Sharon thought to herself, it just might be enough. Suddenly he spoke. "Well if you do consent, I suppose a paddling would be sufficient for a D. I don't have a paddle, so perhaps a..." Sharon cut him off.

As much as what she was about to suggest creeped her out, it also aroused her. The thought of being alone in school with this creepy old man, seducing him into a passing grade with her sexy body, why not push things a little further? She could tell by his breathing that he'd consider anything from this blond vixen.

"How about this" she said as she leaned over his desk, allowing him a glimpse down her shirt. "How about I lift up my short little skirt -- she played with the hem -- and let you spank me on my pantied ass. Would that be good enough for a C?"

"Miss, that would be a bit unorthodox. I mean the school is largely empty and the cleaners won't be coming through until tomorrow, but I'm a teaching professional and you are a..."

Not wanting him to get the upper hand, Sharon quickly countered. " A consenting adult, Mr. Smyth. And since nobody is here, who'll know? I'd get my passing grade, graduate and you'll get to discipline me, as I deserve to be. What do you say?" Before he could answer, Sharon upped the ante.

As she spoke she had wandered to the side of Mr. Smyth's desk and sat down. Her sweet round ass cheek and smooth, sexy thigh rested within inches of the quickly breaking teacher.

As she undid her ponytail and allowed her long blond hair to fall freely, she asked. "How about," she paused as if deep in thought, "that since we're all alone and nobody will ever know, I let you spank me on my bare ass? Would that be good for a B?" Mr. Smyth's was breathing quicker, and he nervously fidgeted with his pen. Sharon got up and walked behind the poor teacher.

"I, I think that would, uh, be worthy of a buh, buh, B, Miss Minter" Mr. Smyth fumbled. But Sharon wasn't settling. As she leaned over and placed her hand gently on Mr. Smyth's shoulder, she picked up her right foot and slipped off her shoe. As she dropped it on his desk, she upped the ante even more. "How about," she purred seductively in his ear (which disgusted her, but given what was at stake she didn't care), "I let you spank me while I'm totally," she dropped her other shoe on his desk, "completely" she began to fidget with the collar of her blouse, "nude?" She made sure to draw out that last word for the desired effect.

She walked over to the door and locked it. She turned and faced Mr. Smyth, legs spread as she began to undo her skirt. "Would that be worth an A?" Mr. Smyth broke. "Y-yes it would" he said as he tried to hide his increasing erection. 

Sharon knew she was entering dangerous waters, but it was all so easy and she was getting more and more turned on. She saw nothing at all attractive about this guy, but it was just so dirty, her about to be totally nude and he fully clothed. It was like one of her fantasies come true.

Her skirt fell to the floor, and Sharon kicked it away. Mr. Smyth stared at this brazen trollop as she began to unbutton her blouse. She removed it, balled it up and tossed it across the classroom. Sharon worked her way around the front of the poor teacher's desk, clad only in a lacy white bra and tiny little panties, which were visibly wet. Reaching behind her back Sharon undid her bra. She leaned over his desk and allowed it to slide off, revealing her perfect tits and her rock hard nipples. She couldn't believe how turned on she was. She removed her watch and bracelets and placed them on a nearby desk.

Leaning up against the blackboard and assuming the spanking position, head down and sweet round ass thrust out. Sharon spread her legs and turned to Mr. Smyth, inviting him to remove her only remaining garment. He unsteadily got up from his chair, an obvious bulge in the front of his pants as he stepped behind her. She could feel his pudgy fingers slip into the waistband of her soaked panties.

"Actually, instead of simply removing them, why don't you tear them off" Sharon cooed. She bit her lip as she felt him pull and tear at her last remaining garment, the flimsy material finally giving way. As the remains fell around her ankle, she lifted her foot and they dropped off. Sharon, totally nude in school with a fully-clothed teacher, was so close to cumming she upped the ante once more. 

"Oh Mr. Smyth," she purred as she picked up her head and peering sexily over her shoulder, "What if I cum while you spank me? Would that be worth an A+?"

"Oh yes, my sweet little peach," he answered as he began to spank her naked ass. "It would most definitely be worth an A+." As Mr. Smyth spanked her, Sharon spread her legs more and more, thrusting out her perfect round ass to meet his blows and allowing some of those blows to touch her engorged and sensitive sex. She worked her hand between her legs, fingering her shaven pussy as Mr. Smyth spanked her. Every now and then he'd rub her reddening ass cheeks, letting his fingers brush against her mons. 

"Oh God, yes" she blurted over and over, gritting her teeth as the sound of Mr. Smyth's open palm smacking her bare naked ass cracked through the classroom. "oh God, oh God oh..."

Clutching the shelf that held the chalk and erasers in an orgasm-fueled death grip, Sharon moaned and shuddered as she came, her sweet honey practically spurting out of her pussy.

Mr. Smyth stepped back as the the stunning blond leaned against the chalk-covered blackboard, one hand massaging her red ass cheeks, the other stroking her still sensitive pussy.

"Now that you've been properly disciplined, and earned your A+, you should adjourn to the restroom and clean up" Mr. Smyth stated as he hurried back to his chair. Sharon thought she saw a bit of a wet spot on the front of his pants.

"Gross" she thought.

"I'll be right back" she cheerily said as she headed for the door, still totally nude.

Sharon made a disgusted face as she as soon as the door closed behind her. As the totally nude senior headed down the hall, she smiled to herself. Sure it had been disgusting, but it worked, and now she'd graduate. Sharon replayed what had happened over and over, and she was becoming so wet she could feel it dripping down her inner thighs. Instead of using the ladies room near her classroom, she walked to the men's room on the opposite side of the floor.

"Oh what a dirty, dirty girl" she said to herself. "You think being so far away from your clothes is very exciting. That the danger of being so vulnerable makes you even more aroused."

Sharon rounded the corner, and as she walked past the library she looked at her reflection in the glass. Her hand lazily reached between her thighs as she relished the feeling of being totally nude in school. 

She couldn't help it as she began to masturbate right there in the hall, while she kissed and licked her reflection in the glass. It just felt so dirty. Laying down on the filthy floor, Sharon spread her legs and placed her feet flat on the wooden door frame so she could watch herself in the glass. Her fingers sped up as she came closer and closer. "Oh God," she stammered as her orgasm hit, her cum squirting out all over the glass. She spread the rest on herself. 

After a bit she got up and hurried to the bathroom. After cleaning herself up, she headed back to Mr. Smyth's class. Sharon was thinking quite highly of herself as she blissfully strolled down the hall. She got to the room, grabbed the door knob, turned and pushed. Nothing. She pushed again. It was locked. Eyes wide, she looked through the window.

The room was dark. The lights were off. The door was locked. Mr. Smyth was gone.

"My clothes," she thought. "Where are my clothes? Did he take them?" A combination of arousal and panic, fear and excitement swept over Sharon as she realized the predicament she was in. Nude in school. And not just that, but she'd have to get home completely naked. 

Completely naked. Sharon couldn't help herself. Here she was alone in the school, totally bare-assed, all her clothes gone, and she now had to go outside. Totally nude. She came without even touching herself.



Making the Grade



I straddled my lover, my body slick with sweat. Our hands were clasped in front of me for balance. My knees were on either side of his hips, his cock buried deep inside me. I was rocking my hips back and forth, rubbing the head of him against that amazing spot that provided such delicious sensations. 

As the tension built through my body, a moan escaped my lips as my breathing became more and more ragged. The motion of my hips became a little faster and I leaned forward, causing his shaft to rub my clit with each movement. I thrust my chest out, instinctively keeping my pelvis locked to his as my vision began to dim. My head dropped forward as my orgasm started to build; I was so close, so very...

A shrill sound broke in and woke me up. I glared at, then turned off my alarm and rolled onto my back in my solitary bed. Then I pounded my fists and heels into my mattress as I quietly screamed my frustration to the ceiling. I considered attempting to pleasure myself, but a quick glance at my clock disabused me of the notion. Not that I ever really had any luck bringing myself to climax anyway. 

I slid out of bed and stepped on the panties I had been wearing when I went to bed. Normally, this would have bothered me, but this had been happening consistently for the past several months as I dreamed of some faceless lover. I just chalked it up to my mounting sexual frustration. 

If I thought about it, I had been having intense sexual fantasies since I hit puberty. I thought they were part of the puberty process, but when I spoke to a friend about them while in summer camp, she acted like I was super slutty for having the thoughts. Either way, I had been trying to lose my virginity since high school, but something always happened to mess things up. 

There was the guy in high school who was panting in my ear in the back seat of his car before becoming convinced he heard police sirens. Also, I had the Goth guy under the bleachers at a football game about to unzip my shorts before he broke down in tears, telling me he was actually gay. Then there was the college guy slumming at my friend's party the summer between my junior and senior year. He passed out seconds after getting my t-shirt off of me. 

I thought it would be easier in college, but I was now in the first term of my second year with the same weird results. I had a lot of first dates, a lot of guys who wanted to "respect" me. And that RA who jumped up, face stark white and snatched his pants up then ran out of the room just as I was about to put his cock in my mouth. That one was really odd. Mostly because it was HIS room!

I stalked to the bathroom and pouted at my reflection in the mirror. It's not like I was hideous. I was 5' 3" slim without sacrificing curves, had bright copper colored hair, clear grey eyes and milky skin. Add to that perky C cup breasts with deep peach colored nipples. I kept everything hairless, but if I didn't the drapes would totally match the carpet. "Well," I mused, "It's bound to happen sometime." With that less than reassuring thought, I jumped into the shower and got ready for classes. 

My last class of the day, World Literature, was at 1pm with Professor Damion Seere. Professor Seere appeared to be in his early to mid-30s and was well over 6 feet tall. He was muscular without looking like a body builder, was completely bald and had skin so black it had blue high-lights. His eyes were brown or black and sometimes when I looked at him; it seemed as if there were no whites to his eyes. T they were made even more striking by his dark, full eyebrows. 

Professor Seere was as strict as he was sexy, which made everyone who might have flirted with him reconsider. I always tried very hard to pay attention in his class, partly because he terrified me and partly because the subject was very interesting. This day, I was having a harder time than usual paying attention. 

I started the class taking notes as usual, but caught myself several times starting to daydream. Trying to keep myself on task, I decided to focus on Professor Seere's face. While concentrating on his face, I began to notice how sensual his lips looked. They were well shaped, firm and a lighter color than his skin, more like mocha instead of obsidian like the rest of him. His mouth was framed by a goatee, groomed short with a sprinkling of greys. His voice flowed over me and my brain slipped into another fantasy...

Soft lips were caressing my inner thigh, first one side, then the other. A tongue gently swiped over my labia, barely touching. My lover's strong hands were gripping my thighs, fingers digging in almost painfully. He blew on my pussy, his hot breath in such an intimate place sending shivers along my spine. His tongue pressed against my feverish sex, more pressure this time than before. He wiggled his tongue over my opening, about to burrow in. I opened my legs further, wanting him to enter me. 

"Please," I almost whimpered.

A loud bang sounded, pulling me from my daydream. Professor Seere was standing in front of me. "I expect to see you in my office at 7pm tonight to discuss your inability to pay attention." 

My cheeks flamed, I was mortified. "Ye-yes sir." I replied. A couple of my classmates shot me looks of sympathy as we filed out of the lecture hall.

I went back to my apartment, glad that I didn't have roommates. I just didn't feel like being pestered by anyone asking me what I planned to do about Professor Seere. This wasn't the first time I was grateful for my wealthy, if absent father. Not only was he paying for my tuition, my car and this really nice apartment, I also received a generous allowance. 

I changed clothes and went to the spare bedroom, where I had my personal gym set up. Jumping on the treadmill I tried to exercise my anxiety away. When that didn't work, I took a long, hot shower and started to get ready for my meeting. After agonizing over the "perfect look", I decided to go with a black pencil skirt, made of stretchy microfiber and a steel grey peasant style top. 

I twisted my hair into a simple bun secured with a barrette and slid my feet into a pair of flats. With light makeup and tinted lip balm, I hoped I had succeeded in blending the serious student look with the sweet and innocent. Butterflies in my stomach, I headed out to meet my fate. 

As I walked up to Professor Seere's office, his door slammed open and another student came out. Her face was splotchy and there were tears running down her face. Pausing when she saw me, and recognizing the fear in my face, she stated "he has zero compassion." Then she walked past me and down the hall. 

My nerves jangling, I tapped on his doorframe. He was seated behind his desk, but at my tentative knock, he stood up and walked past the door. "Come in and close the door," he said as he led the way to a couple of wing back style chairs that were facing each other. He motioned me to have a seat in one as he took the other. I nervously smoothed my skirt down toward my knees and waited for him to begin. 

After staring at me for what seemed like hours, he startled me with his deep voice. "For such an intelligent young lady, you seem to be making some poor choices. My class is required for your major and I don't understand why you can't seem to pay attention." 

"I'm sorry sir," I almost whispered in response, keeping my eyes lowered. "I have no excuse. All I can say is that I will do everything possible to do better." 

"Well," he said. "I have some extra assignments to help you bring your grade point up." 

I was so surprised I looked up, his lips were still moving and his voice flowed over me like syrup as he began to explain my assignments. My heart stuttered as I got sucked into my own mind, drawn by the appeal of his mouth and voice. I felt a tingle in my lips, the same feeling you get when you touch a battery with your tongue. I opened my eyes, wondering when I had closed them. 

Professor Seere's eyes were right in front of mine; my lips were pressed against his. I realized I was standing up, leaned into him and was kissing him. It was so obvious to me that I had instigated the contact. "Oh. My. God" I said as I stood up abruptly. My cheeks were on fire as I backed away from him. I whirled away and practically ran toward the door. 

A strong arm wrapped around my waist before I made it halfway to the door. Professor Seere pulled me back, against his chest, my feet off the floor. Walking backward, he returned to his seat, settling me in his lap and gently turning my legs to the side. He unclipped my barrette, releasing my hair before grabbing a fistful and gently turning me to face him. 

He leaned in and gently placed his lips against mine. Experiencing the same subtle shocking sensation when our lips made contact, it took me a second to realize that he was actually kissing me. The hand that wasn't in my hair stroked my face as he deepened our kiss. I got that weird shock every time we made skin to skin contact. The tip of his tongue tapped my closed lips, quietly requesting entrance. 

I opened my mouth and his tongue slid in, brushing past my teeth as he explored my mouth. The shocking feel was more intense in my mouth, but not unpleasantly so. He kept one hand in my hair, holding my head still as our lips were locked together, allowing our tongues to slide over each other, tasting and teasing. 

His free hand gently brushed my face, easing down my neck to just above my blouse, then back to my face before following the path down to my chest. My skin tingled everywhere his fingers touched. My fingers explored his face and chest, anywhere I could reach. He tightened his grip on my hair, almost painfully tight, and turned my head to an angle, his other hand grasping my jaw, his large hands easily spanning my entire jawline. 

His tongue began to thrust in and out of my mouth, a parody of more intimate acts. Each thrust delivered a small shock. It felt as if his tongue was swelling and lengthening in my mouth. I relaxed into his thrusts, a small moan escaping my throat. 

He pulled back and turned my knees back toward the front, resting my back against his chest. Pushing my hair to one side, he placed a small kiss behind my ear. I shivered at this strangely intimate act. "My pet," he whispered, "My sweet little pet." 

He began kissing, licking and nibbling his way up and down the side of my neck, occasionally stopping to suck my earlobe into his mouth. His goatee tickled, adding that much more to what I was feeling. His hands spanned my ribcage, just under my breasts. I placed my hands over his, just because I wanted the contact. His thumbs would occasionally brush my rigid nipples through my blouse and bra. 

I felt his hardening cock push against my ass cheek, so I squirmed around a bit until I had it resting between them. I began to slowly rock my pelvis, so it would feel as if he were thrusting there. Even with my skirt and panties on - feeling of him there, pushing against me - made my pussy wet. 

Eventually, his hands slid under my blouse, brushing my lace covered breasts as he eased my top over my head. He tossed it to the empty chair and reached for the bra clasp nestled between my breasts. Once the clasp was opened, he simply pushed my empty cups to the sides and grasped my breasts in his hands. The shocking sensation on my hardened nipples sent shock waves straight to my core. He plucked at my nipples, rolling them between his fingers and gently pulling them. 

"Professor Seere," I gasped. 

He laughed and said, "at this point I think you can call me Damion." 

I watched his hands as they traced my nipples, cupped my breasts and pulled my nipples away from my body. I was fascinated by the contrast of his dark skin against my flushed, pale skin. 

"Turn around so I can taste you," Damion said. 

I stood up, turned to face him and sat on his lap, my knees on the chair on either side of him. My skirt bunched up to just below my crotch. The thin cotton of my panties was damp as I rubbed myself over his pant covered dick. The strained zipper of his pants rubbed against me, teasing my clit.

He began suckling one breast while fondling the other, then would switch. Occasionally he would bite down on a nipple, sending the most amazing feelings straight to my now soaked pussy. At one point, I grabbed the tail of his shirt and pulled it off over his head so that I could touch more of him. 

His hands grabbed my ass, pulling my pelvis tight against his own, then dragging his tongue up my neck, he captured my mouth with his own. My breasts mashed against his chest, we dry humped each other as our tongues wrestled. As he began thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth, I simply sucked it, as I would if it were his cock in my mouth. This must have given me ideas, because the next thing I knew, I was on my knees in front of him, his pants open and below his hips. 

I blinked at his cock. It was 10 or 11 inches long, curved toward his stomach with a little kink to the side at the end. But what really got my attention was the fact he was uncircumcised. He laughed at my expression, but took my hand and wrapped it around his cock, showing me how to push the foreskin back to expose his glistening head. 

I eagerly began licking his cock, sliding my tongue along the underside of his length. Then I circled my tongue around the bunched up foreskin and finally across the tip of him. He tasted salty and peppery with a dash of smoke. 

Using both of my hands I grasped his cock and caressed his balls. I took as much of him as I could in my mouth, alternating between sucking hard and gently scraping my teeth along his shaft. His hands were in my hair, guiding my head as I bobbed up and down in his lap. He started to slowly thrust into my mouth as if he could sense my inexperience. His breath quickened. 

Suddenly he released my hair and stood up. Then he pulled me to a standing position by my arms. He grasped my butt, and picked me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips as he walked us to a wall. Placing my back against the wall, he then reached between us to push my panties aside. 

He placed the tip of his cock against my opening. He just barely entered me and stopped. "Do you want this?" he asked. 

"Oh my God, yes, please. Please!" I gasped. 

"Say my name," he said, "Say Damion Seere." 

"Please Damion, Damion Seere, please enter me!" 

Inch by inch he pushed himself inside. When he hit my hymen, he didn't seem at all surprised; he just pushed through it, and then stopped to allow me time to get over the pain. Once my breathing settled back down, he continued to push slowly into me. 

By the time I felt his balls hit my pussy, I felt so full, as if I couldn't fit another centimeter inside me. He leaned his chest back; leaving his cock buried in my pussy. He slid a finger along the top of his cock and inside me. 

Once his finger was inside me, he began to slide just his finger in and out of my dripping pussy. Just that little movement added to the static electricity feeling to my clit, brought me to climax almost immediately. I was moaning almost incoherently, trying to say his name as my head thrashed from side to side. 

I pushed my hips toward him, desperate to feel as much of his cock inside me as I could. My pussy walls clamped down on his cock and finger as my inner muscles contracted. My breasts heaved and bounced as I moaned and gasped for air. 

As soon as I settled down, he pulled out of me, surprising me when he didn't re-enter my now relaxed and drenched box. "Stand-up" he ordered, "take off your panties." 

I toed off my shoes and slid my panties down my legs, kicking them off. I started to unzip my skirt, but he told me to leave it on. He led me to his desk, and then turned me around to face his desk. Pulling my skirt up around my waist, he pushed me forward, then using his knees he pushed my feet further apart. I leaned on my arms, my nipples brushing his cold desktop. 

With my bra open and bunched up around my arms, my skirt lifted to my waist, I began to get nervous, thinking about how ridiculous I must look. My nervousness fled when I heard his pants hit the floor, seconds later I felt him guiding his cock into my open pussy. He eased the head of his cock inside me, and placed his hands on the desk on either side of my head. 

He brushed his lips against my ear and whispered, "You're mine now." as he slammed himself into me in one thrust. 

I screamed in shock and pain at the sudden invasion. I tried to pull my hips away from him, but they were already against the edge of Damion's desk. I felt some relief as he pulled his length out slowly but it was short lived as he slammed into me yet again. This time, when he pulled out, it wasn't slow at all as he began to thrust himself in and out rapidly, punctuating each maneuver with a feral grunt. 

My body quickly became accustomed to the almost violent execution, and my hunger and need had me rising up on my toes, trying to give Damion a better angle. In response to my ass being a little higher, he pushed down on my head, forcing my head and breasts to rest on his desk. 

This new position made his cock feel as if it were growing in length and girth. My mind flashed back to when he was kissing me and it felt as if his tongue were growing, but an extra vigorous stroke shoved that thought to the back of my brain. All I could think about was the carnal sensations bombarding my body. The feeling of my tits pressed against the wood of the desk and the distention of my pussy walls where they were trying to accommodate his diameter. I actually thought I could feel the knot of his foreskin where it was nudging my g-spot. 

He continued to slam into me; banging my hip bones into the edge of the desk hard enough I knew I would have bruises. My nipples were rubbed almost raw from the friction off the desk. My body enjoyed every second of it. 

His hips began to jack-hammer into my ass cheeks faster and faster. It felt as if something heavy was being drug against my g-spot over and over in rapid succession... My whole body almost felt as if it were on fire. Both of us were grunting out loud and I was breathing in gasps. 

When I realized my eyes were closed I opened them, my first thought was that the room had gotten dim. I tried to focus on what was going on around me, but I was so overwhelmed by everything my body was feeling. Heat coursed through my body as his cock pounded into my wet, over-stimulated pussy, which is why it took me so long to notice that the walls looked like rough stone, the shapes changing by the flickering light. 

"What the hell?" I thought to myself, "Are those TOURCHES?!?!" I struggled to raise my torso off the desk, but Damian chose that moment to lean into my back, placing his mouth next to my ear. 

"I've waited a very long time for you, my pet," he said. His words, breathed right into my ear, caused a delicious tingle from my ear, straight down my spine. I shivered, which in turn made his shaft, still embedded deep inside me, twitch. 

His next words had me shivering with something other than pleasure. "Your father sold his only child to me in return for material wealth. You now belong to me."

My eyes were drawn to the hand braced on the desk next to my head. My heart stuttered in fear. Instead of the graceful, well-manicured hand I expected, I saw a dusty grey hand with thick, extra-long fingers tipped with long curved black talon-like nails. 

That hand lifted from the desk and went to my hips, the body that was stretched along my back raised off of me and my hips were tightly gripped. My ass was pulled firmly against the still pumping hips behind me. My feet were now dangling off the floor, and I instinctively hooked them behind the legs holding me up. 




Making the Grade



With the arm no longer obstructing my view, I could see my reflection in an old fashioned mirror that hadn't been there earlier. My bright colored hair was disheveled and tossed around my head, accentuating my very wide eyes set in my flushed face. My lips looked swollen, almost bruised. My lacy open bra framed my breasts as they stood out from my body, nipples taut. My black skirt was scrunched up around my waist. 

My eyes traveled to the reflection of the man, the creature behind me; inside me. He towered over me, easily 7 feet tall with a very wide body covered in hairless dusty grey skin. On either side of his head huge ebony horns rose up and curled back into themselves, like oversized ram's horns. 

His eyes were red with elongated black pupils. His wide nose had ridges along the top. His jaw was square, his mouth looked almost deformed, the same lips that I had eagerly kissed earlier barely covering massive pointed teeth punctuated by tremendously long incisors. His eyes met mine in the mirror, as his lips stretched into a frightening smile.

As he smiled at my obvious fear and confusion, his clawed hands tightened their grip on my hips, digging painfully into my flesh. I could feel blood flowing from the wounds caused by his grasp as his hips continued to piston his cock into my willing pussy. 

He slammed into me with unusual force and threw his head back to roar at the ceiling as his shaft, buried deep inside me, began to spurt hot thick liquid. His roar continued to echo in the cavern-like room and my body reacted on a primal level. 

My pussy clenched, tightening around the obelisk erupting within me. My body felt as if it were on fire. I screamed, partly from pain, mostly from pleasure. Black dots danced across my field of vision. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through my body as the demon behind me continued to pump his seed into my waiting vessel. 

The muscles in my pussy seized the demons cock as my hips bounced back into his, effectively milking his manhood, his cum coated the walls of my box and oozed out, dripping down my legs. All of the sensations were too much, my vision dimmed from the outside, fading to black as I passed out...

To be continued.



Making the Grade



Clarissa waved her friends ahead of her. They gave her sympathetic looks as they left the classroom; they knew she was staying behind to discuss her grade with Professor Collins, a notoriously strict and difficult teacher. She approached the desk, nervously shifting her book bag over her shoulder.

"Professor Collins?" she asked, standing in front of his desk.

"Miss Jennings," he said, setting down his pencil. He cleared his throat. "You have a question about the assignment?"

"No, that is, not about today's assignment," she said, swallowing nervously. "About the last few, actually. I – My grades aren't where I'd hoped they would be." More specifically, her grades weren't where her parents hoped and expected they'd be. They were paying for her small, private apartment and the fuel-efficient car she used to get around, but only as long as she maintained a certain grade point average. They'd made it clear that if she couldn't keep up, she'd be relegated to the college dorms and public transportation. She was grateful that her family was able and willing to pay for her tuition in the first place, but having her own place was a luxury she wasn't willing to part with, not to mention all the grief she'd get from her mother if she didn't bring her scores up.

Professor Collins frowned and pulled out his ledger, consulting. Clarissa waited silently.

"Yes, well I see you've been turning in your homework, but it really seems as if you haven't been applying yourself," he said. "If you want better grades you need to study a bit more, try harder." He closed his book and made as if to stand up.

"Wait, please," said Clarissa. "I was hoping you could detail for me a little bit where I went wrong, so I can do better next time."

"Miss Jennings, I really don't have the time to hold your hand and walk you through college work. If you have any more questions about this, please speak to my TA." He stood and began to gather his things.

"Is- is there some kind of... extra credit I could do instead?" She smiled winningly, or at least she hoped it was. "I'd be only too happy to do an extra report, or do some research work for you, or... or clean your office..." she finished lamely.

"I'm not running some kind of charity here, Miss Jennings. You do the work when it's expected of you, or you face the consequences. Good day." He picked up his briefcase and turned away.

Desperate, Clarissa fell back on her last resort. Luckily she had plenty of experience in making herself to cry to get what she wanted. It worked with her father, and all of her past boyfriends. At the sound of her first sob, the professor looked back at her. Clarissa let her eyes fill with tears and tilted her head down so she could look up at him through the tears. That usually was the clincher, and once again it didn't let her down. Professor Collins sighed.

"Very well, Miss Jennings. Follow me to my office and we'll see what we can do." He strode out the door at a brisk clip, and Clarissa had to rush to keep up, brushing the ersatz tears from her eyes. She smirked ever so slightly at the success of her ploy, although she was mostly just relieved that it had worked. She'd been truthful, she was willing to put in the extra work, she just needed him to give her a chance to. 

They reached his office and he held the door open for her as she entered. She took the seat opposite his desk and waited for him to sit down. She set her bookbag down on the floor beside her chair.

"Miss Jennings. You seem to be recovering well from your little episode," said the professor dryly, indicating her now dry eyes. Clarissa had the grace to flush slightly at her ruse.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Now about your grades. You're not terribly far from a decent score if you put in the effort. Are you willing to put in the effort?" Professor Collins loosened his tie and sat back.

"Oh yes, Professor," she said earnestly. A few extra assignments were nothing compared to freedom from the dorms and her parents wrath.

"And were you quite serious about cleaning my office?"

"Well, yes, of course," said Clarissa, surprised. She hadn't actually expected him to go for that. She didn't have a whole lot of experience cleaning things; her little apartment now was the first time she hadn't had a maid to do the housekeeping. "I'm not above getting my hands dirty"

The professor smiled and pushed his chair back from the desk.

"And you are open to other methods of raising your grade as well?" he asked.

"Sure," she said slowly, wondering what he had in mind. 

"Lock the door please, Miss Jennings."

She froze, unable to move from her seat.

"The door, Miss Jennings," he said again. "If you're serious about bringing up your grades."

Heart pounding, she rose and walked to the door. Surely this didn't mean what she thought it meant. He was probably just very concerned for her privacy, or that no other student see him giving her somewhat preferential treatment by allowing her the chance to raise her grades. That was all, it had to be. Her shaking fingers turned the lock and she sat down again, afraid to look up at him.

"Please remove your top." instructed the professor, sitting calmly.

Well, thought Clarissa, there was no denying his intentions now. Was she really willing to do this, just for better grades? Maybe her parents wouldn't be as hard on her as she feared, and she didn't need to go through with this. Professor Collins cleared his throat pointedly, bringing her back to the present moment. Her fumbling fingers reached for the top button of her blouse, undoing it and then the next one. In a moment her shirt was off and she carefully folded it and placed it on the seat next to her, stalling for time. The cooler air enveloped her, and she felt her nipples harden beneath her silky bra. 

Professor Collins rose and crossed the small office, around his desk till he was behind her chair. Clarissa nervously waited for him to make the first move. Would he be happy just to see her breasts? Surely not. He must want a blowjob, at the very least. Well, she could handle that. She'd given plenty to boyfriends before when she hadn't really felt like it; at least this was for a worthy cause. His hand on her skin startled her, and she drew in a shaky breath. His fingers glided down the smooth skin of her chest, dipping beneath her bra and finding her nipple. He rolled it around between two fingers until it was hard and firm. Clarissa was surprised to find him so gentle, and at how the feeling was not at all unpleasant. He undid the clasp on her bra with his other hand, and it fell away to hang uselessly from her elbows. 

She moved her hands to cover herself, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them firmly to the arms of the chair. "None of that, please, Miss Jennings. If we're going to do this, I will see all that I want to see." Clarissa nodded her understanding. She hadn't really expected that he would allow her to cover up anyway, or he would have just left the bra on. His fingers were back on her nipples again, teasing and plucking at them. The sensation sent little shivers of pleasure through her. 

"I want you to stand, Miss Jennings, and bend over the desk."

"Over the desk? But..."

"Over the desk, Miss Jennings, and when you speak, you will call me Professor."

Clarissa hesitated. She hadn't signed on for this. She'd thought a blowjob would be the worst of it, and she wasn't mentally prepared to have sex with him!

"Now, Miss Jennings," said Professor Collins.

Slowly, reluctantly, she stood. Her grades just weren't worth this. 

"I think I'm going to go," she said, reaching for her shirt.

"We passed that option a while ago," said the professor, and he shoved her down hard against the desk. He kicked the chair out of his way and stood directly behind her, his erect cock pressed into her through his pants. "It's much too late for that," he said again. Clarissa was in shock, her heart hammering wildly. He couldn't do this! She'd said she wanted to leave.

Professor Collins had his hands on her panties now, her skirt flipped up onto her back. He was tugging them down, and the realization that she would soon be exposed and at his mercy jarred her into action.

"No! I'm not doing this!" She tried to stand up, but the professor just forced her back down again. 

"You WILL keep quiet, Miss Jennings," he instructed. 

"No!" she cried again, trying to struggle upright.

SMACK!

Out of nowhere, his hand came down hard on her ass, and the pain and shock stilled her.

"If you cry out again, I'll be forced to spank you again. Wouldn't you rather be a good little girl and cooperate?" Her ass burning, Clarissa just nodded. He was stronger than she would have expected, and appeared to have no difficulty holding her down. She was trapped. "One more for good measure," said the professor, and slapped her ass again. "You have a fine ass, Miss Jennings," he said. "It would look even better with some bright red handprints on it, so don't give me a reason." His hands began to caress her bottom, working towards her inner thighs. To her horror, when he found the folds of her pussy, they were already slick and wet. 

"Well, well," said Professor Collins. "What have we here? It seems like you are ready and prepared for this, Miss Jennings." She shook her head furiously, denying it. "Oh yes, I'm afraid so, see how easily I can slip my-" his fingers entered her and she gasped "-fingers inside you?" He pressed against her more firmly, his hard-on nudging her thighs. His fingers felt good inside, applying just the right amount of pressure, and her pussy squeezed around them involuntarily. "Mmm, so warm and tight."

Why did this feel so good, Clarissa asked herself. She should be miserable, in torment right now, and instead she was arching her back into his fingers, loving the feeling. There must be something very wrong with her indeed. He withdrew his fingers and she heard the sound of a zipper, and realized he was probably removing his pants. In a moment, he'd be free to fuck her, and she would be helpless to stop it. Sure enough, she felt his cock probing at the entrance of her pussy, and she could feel her inner muscles spasm in anticipation. 

"Wait," she said, still denying to herself how badly she wanted this. "Wait, don't."

"Oh Miss Jennings, it's much, much too late for that. But if you like, I can make you beg for it."

Clarissa froze, terrified. Her body was screaming for his cock even as her mind cried out against it. Beg for it? She wouldn't... She couldn't... Could she?

His cock was still probing around her entrance, but now he eased a hand around her side and under her, swiftly parting her pussy lips and finding the hot core of it all. Clarissa couldn't help a moan escaping as he caressed her clit. She arched again, leaning into it, his cock tormenting her with its nearness. He continued to rub her, in tiny circles and up and down, making her hotter and wetter. He slid his cock up and down her slit, making her painfully aware of it. 

"Think how good this cock will feel in you, Miss Jennings. So full and tight. Imagine how it will feel when it's filling every inch of you." He rubbed her opening with the head of his dick and she groaned in frustration that it wasn't inside her. His clever fingers drew her nearer and nearer to orgasm. "Think of how it's going to feel when I ram myself into you, and your pussy is stretched to take every last inch of my cock." He slid it a maddening quarter inch inside her, and she panted and tried to push back on it, desperate for more.

"Now, that's against the rules, Miss Jennings," he said, holding her firmly in place so she couldn't shove herself back on his cock. "If you want it, you need to beg for it." Ashamed, Clarissa couldn't speak. "That's a pity, because I know you want it. Your body is telling me that you're dying for me to fuck you hard, over this desk, pounding your little pussy while you feel my balls slap against your clit with every thrust. He withrew completely from her, and Clarissa whined. "Beg me for it," he said.

"Please," she whispered.

"Please what?" he asked.

"Please, Professor."

"Please what?" he persisted.

"Please, Professor, please fuck me."

"What should I fuck you with? Be detailed, Miss Jennings." He slipped a finger into her and she moaned.

"Please, Professor. I want your cock in me, please fuck me with your cock!" Her face burned with shame, but she was so desperate for it she couldn't help herself. 

"With this?" he rubbed against her opening again, teasing her further. 

"Oh god, yes. Please!"

"Since you asked so nicely." Professor Collins rammed his cock deep inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. His fingers kept working her clit as he began to fuck her,withdrawing almost completely before shoving back in again. It was too much for Clarissa, and within seconds she was screaming in orgasm. Heedless of her, the professor kept fucking her hard, thrusting in and out while she trembled in aftershocks. "I knew you'd have a lovely, tight little pussy," he murmured, as the force of his thrusting slammed her hips into the desk.

"Fuck, yes," he said, as his movements grew more jerky and then he was pulling out, his cum shooting in hot ribbons across her ass. He was still for a moment, then stepped back, pulling up his own pants. "Get yourself cleaned up," he instructed her, and with shaky hands, she pulled on her panties, the cum leaking through. Her skirt covered it for now. She buttoned her shirt again as the professor sat down behind his desk.

"You can go now, Miss Jennings. That'll be good enough for a 'B'. If you want an 'A', you're going to have to REALLY work for it..."