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.

Confessions of an Office Slut

My name is... well, let's keep names out of this, to protect the innocent. Or at least those who hope to keep up the illusion of innocence. Let me just share this much: I'm an office slut.

I hold an important job, and am well respected by my coworkers for the good work I do. I arrive at the office at the same time each morning, and leave at the same time each night. I'm famous for my clean desk, and my filing system is impeccable. I volunteer to serve on committees whenever I have the chance, and have a ridiculous amount of vacation leave built up because I rarely miss work. But I also love to suck cock, and recently have developed a naughty little habit of indulging this desire while I'm on the clock.

See, a particular coworker of mine seems to enjoy having his cock sucked. Imagine that. And I love to pleasure him, expecting nothing in return.

He likes to challenge the control I usually have over my organized world, ordering me to drop on my hands and knees when the whim strikes him, and forcing me down onto his hard cock.

Sometimes we'll find ourselves alone unexpectedly, in an elevator, a stairwell, or supply closet. He'll ask me to get him hard in my mouth, then send me back to my desk, where I struggle to focus on my work. I feel the wetness grow between my legs as I try to make my eyes focus on my computer screen, the smell of his sweat still with me, knowing that he has also gone back to work, hiding his erection as he greets coworkers in the hall.

Sometimes we manage to plan a rendezvous in some quiet corner or empty office, and I hope that we're uninterrupted long enough that I'm able to bring him to orgasm. He fondles my breasts as I suck him off, sometimes grabbing my hair and ordering my hands away from his cock so that he can thrust his entire length deep into my throat. I struggle to remain quiet as I fight my gag reflex, his thick cock almost more than I can take. But I want more, I want his cum to fill my mouth, I want to taste him now, and continue to taste him as I return to work.

In hushed voices, we develop our dirty dialogue. I tell him what a slut I am, how much I love to suck cock, and how I want him to bend me over the desk and spank me if I do anything that doesn't please him. He asks me whether he can cum anywhere he likes - in my mouth, on my tits, in my hair, on my glasses, or deep inside my pussy. I respond that he can cum wherever he likes, because that's exactly what a cum-sucking slut like me desires.

As he gets closer, I pull my glasses down to the edge of my nose and look up at him with my big blue eyes. I cup and fondle his balls with my left hand, jack off the base of his cock with my right, and suck on as much of the end of his cock as I can comfortably handle in my mouth. He reaches down and pinches one of my nipples, hard, and the pain which quickly becomes pleasure inspires me to move even faster on his hard cock.

I can feel his orgasm coming, building up inside of him as he thrusts harder and faster into my mouth. He again grabs my long hair, pulling it firmly into a ponytail in his hands, and I'm helpless to do anything but continue sucking, struggling to stay with him as he thrusts deeper into my throat. His smooth motions soon lose their rhythm as he finally cums, shooting his load into my mouth. I struggle to swallow every drop, keeping him in my mouth as his motions slow and he comes down from his climax. We quickly pull ourselves together, and go our separate ways back to work. As I find my way back to my desk, I wonder if those in the offices I pass notice my disheveled hair, the flush in my cheeks.

Very occasionally, we have managed to leave the office together for a few hours. Our latest rendezvous was a few weeks back. My phone rang, and it was him. He had a few hours free, and wondered if I did as well. I knew that I had no more meetings that afternoon, but my boss was still in the office, and I had a few projects I was supposed to be finishing up. But the desire, the naughtiness of it all, overtook my better judgement, and I agreed to meet him outside, where he could pick me up in his car.

Struggling to keep my composure as I left my desk, I quickly grabbed my jacket and made my way for the exit, hoping nobody would stop me with work, or worse, just to chat. Luckily, I escaped without the slightest notice from the busy bees bustling around the office. Before I knew it, I was in his car, speeding towards the highway entrance. I had never been to his place before, but I knew that's where we were headed as he asked me to spread my legs so that he could stroke my inner thigh.

He asked me to talk dirty to him as we drove, and I complied, telling him what a dirty little slut I was to abandon my work in the middle of the day for the pleasure of sneaking off to suck his cock. I could see him getting hard, the bulge growing in his pants as he listened to my naughty voice and occasionally gave my thigh a gentle slap.

After a trip that seemed far too long, we were in his apartment, in his bedroom, and he tossed me onto the bed. As he undressed and climbed onto the bed, kneeling above me, I looked up at him with pure lust and tried to reach up to take his growing cock into my mouth. But with a gentle shove, pushing me back down, he quickly reminded me who was in charge. He wanted me to suck him off, but he wanted to be in control. I was happy to comply, giving up control being such a departure, such a turn-on for me. And thus began our naughty game.

Over the next hour, I found myself in innumerable positions as I focused my attention on his cock. First he was on his back, and I kneeled above him, still fully dressed, fondling his balls and taking as much of his length as I could into my mouth. Soon he wanted access to my perfectly-shaped 36C tits, so I released his cock just long enough to pull my sweater over my head and toss it aside. I also released my hair from its proper work-day do, and it cascaded down to my shoulders in long blonde waves. This gave him the opportunity to pull it into a ponytail and control my motions as I bobbed up and down on his shaft.

Before long, he shifted our position so that I was on my back and he could kneel above me, sometimes forcing his long, thick member deep into my throat, sometimes shifting a bit to fuck my tits as I pressed them together for him, licking the tip of his cock each time it reached my mouth.

He loved to push the limit of how much I could take - how much of his length, how long I could keep him in my mouth before needing a break - and just when I thought it would be too much, he would shift positions. Sometimes, if he felt I gave up too quickly, he would order me onto my hands and knees and give me a little discipline. I can hardly describe the excitement I felt at these moments, as his touch was never predictable. Sometimes he would spank me hard, but other times he would barely graze my skin, and I never knew which it would be.

On this day, the discipline included the almost unbearable pleasure of his fingers on my clit. He gently forced me to remain on all fours in front of him, and much as I might try to grind into his hand or turn to see or touch him, I could do nothing but allow the waves of pleasure build up as he increased his stroking to a feverish pace. I longed for him to enter me with his big, strong fingers, but knew he wouldn't. After all, this pleasure was still part of my discipline. I also longed to cum, and nearly did, but knew that he would bring me very, very close, but not all the way.

At exactly that moment, when if he didn't stop, I wouldn't be able to hold back, he did indeed stop. With a whimper, but remembering the task I was here to complete, I rolled on to my back and awaited his next instruction. It was time, he was ready to cum. He climbed off the bed and stood just next to it, and invited me to join him, on my hands and knees on the floor in front of him.

As he had so many times before, he asked me to confirm what a cum-hungry slut I was, and how he could cum anywhere he liked, whether in my mouth, on my tits, in my hair, wherever he wished. He asked me to make him cum, and I eagerly engulfed his cock. He took hold of my hair again, and after a few long, slow, deep strokes into my throat, began to fuck my mouth with quick, shallow strokes. I took his balls in one hand and wrapped my other hand around his shaft, and he continued his furious fucking, thrusting into me ever faster as he approached his orgasm.

Just when I thought I couldn't keep him in my mouth any longer, my saliva spilling from the corners of my mouth and dripping down my hands, he pulled out, and I knew what he wanted. As he gave his cock a few last strokes, I presented my tits to him, cupping one in each hand as he shot his load onto them. By the time he was done, his sticky white cum covered my chest, my face, and even my hair.

After we cleaned up his cum, found the clothes we had strewn about the room, and got dressed, he drove me back to the office, where I arrived just in time to gather my things and wish my coworkers a good evening. I left at my usual time and proceeded with my usual evening routines. But I was also still completely turned on, taking home with me the lingering memory of his touch and the smell of his sweat and cum. That was all I needed to take matters into my own hands a bit later that evening. But that's another story...