Oral Exam

Another day was done. I was a simple graduate student, a first year seeking a Master's degree straight out of under-grad. I was teaching my first grouping of classes. These classes were a joke for all, the students, the teachers – everyone. No one wanted to take them, and certainly no one wanted to teach them, except that they paid the bills. Life as a graduate student is not easy. Money needs to come from somewhere, and that somewhere, for me, was three basic public speaking classes.

So today, like every other day, I managed to muddle through. I droned on, not really sure if I was an awesome, abysmal, or merely an adequate instructor. My students always looked at me with blank faces. It could have been that they were taking in everything, or perhaps it was all fluttering by. Maybe it was just that the classes were first thing in the morning.

I had just given out the grades for the persuasive speech assignment. It was worth 20% of the final grade, so in the scheme of things, it was a pretty big deal. Following class the usual mob clustered around with questions. It wasn't until the group had thinned, that I noticed her.

She stood waiting, blonde-bombshell to the core. Her head was held with a confidence that I might later think of as steely resolve. For now, though, it made me bite my lip and swallow. I was locked in. Her tongue was at play, tentatively licking moist, pink lips. Follow the thought downward and I came to the gentle slope of her neck that spilled into two swelling bounties encased in a powder blue sweater. Time stopped, as I took the moment to imagine several "what ifs?" But then the moment was gone.

I tried to avert my eyes and I felt desperately wrong. This was a student, an 18-year old college freshman, blissfully innocent of the thoughts at work in my head. I had certainly entertained them before. It is easy to do in the moments before sleep, while grappling with oneself for a few jolts of unbridled pleasure. It was also easy to do from afar, while listening to speeches or administering a quiz. She couldn't possibly feel my eyes then, probing delicately under clothes. Right? But this was different. She stood before me, brazen and unafraid, commanding me to look while not allowing me to gaze how or where I wanted. That was the difficulty. How do I interact with her, my student, when my unspoken desires had carried me so much further?

One by one, I answered the class's questions until I was alone with her. I turned to face her, and was hit by the gentle scent of raspberry. I could hear the florescent lights humming above, and feel their cold radiance reflecting off the white tile floor. The door closed and we were alone.

"Jessica, what can I do for you?"

"Professor." No matter how hard I tried, I could not break my students of the habit of calling me professor. I was a graduate student – nothing more. To them, though, it was all the same. We were all professors. "I wanted to talk to you about my grade on the last speech. I didn't do very well."

"I know. Did you understand my comments?"

"Yeah. I just didn't put the time into it I needed to. I was really busy last week, and I guess my speech took last priority. Can I do something to improve my grade?"

"Well, the final is still out there. I'd suggest putting some effort into it. We have the study session coming up next Monday. Are you planning to go?"

"I guess. It just feels like I am working against the gun here. I am already doomed to a low grade in the class due to what I got on my persuasive speech. It doesn't feel like my work will pay off. Is there anything else we could work out? Please?"

"If you need help studying for the final, you can always swing by during my office hours. I can quiz you on your definitions. I am not really sure what more I can do. I don't feel comfortable taking back the grade on the persuasive speech. It isn't fair to the other students."

I looked at her. She was silent. I began to pick up the papers, books, and other sundries I seemed to acquire over a class session. Jessica obviously didn't get the answer she was looking for. Oh well. There go my evaluations, I thought.

I was about to leave as she spoke again. "Professor." Her voice was softer, the tone completely different. It was subtle, smoky. "This is a speech class, right? Maybe I could come up to your office and take a special, private oral exam?"

What? Did she just ask what I think she did? My God. Cotton filled my mouth. I wasn't sure what to say. Somehow, however, I felt my head nodding, just ever so slightly.

A smile illuminated her face. I could hear her exhale a deep, nervous breath, followed by some words that would forever be emblazoned in my memory, "I am glad to hear you say that, Professor. I will stop by your office tomorrow for my tutorial. I'll see you then."

I could do nothing but stare out the window. I had long ago given up on productive tasks like grading papers and reading texts. Focusing was beyond impossible. Instead, I was locked into place – frozen in this off-white, sanitized, humorless office. Waiting. Hoping. Dreading. Thinking for the thousandth time that I was part of some departmental sting, or cruel freshman joke.

Time had passed and the afternoon was beginning to fade into the early evening. I needed to move and to think. More importantly, I needed to pee. I headed to the restrooms leaving the door slightly cracked.

After finishing my business, I gazed at myself in the mirror. What was I? A monster? A thief? My eyes stared back, not holding any answers. How I got here was uncertain. Would I push forward? Would I take advantage of all that I could? Yes. The uncertainty was who I would be afterwards – if there was destined to be an afterwards.

I opened my office door. The slight scent of raspberry soap filled the room. She sat in my chair, feet propped up on the desk, sandals discarded on the floor. Her toes, small and pink, were painted carefully with a deep red polish and were completed with a small, gold ring. Her legs were muscular and tan, obviously honed by some sort of exercise. She wore a stone-washed, denim skirt frayed around the bottom hem. It had deliciously rode up her bronzed thighs, just barely masking her deepest treasures. I could see her mid-driff capped by a gold belly ring. A pink polo shirt, perhaps a few sizes too small, completed the outfit. Her breasts swelled lusciously, with every breath. She was so gorgeous. A fantasy. A sexpot. She was a moment that I thought would exist only in my sweaty dreams.

Hearing the creak of the door, she cocked her head, looking over her right shoulder. Her blonde ponytail dangled behind her, swaying gently. A half smile crept onto her face, all mystery and seduction. I entered the room fully, closing the door behind me and noting the soft click of the lock. Her eyes flickered. The moment was magical.

"Professor. I'm glad you closed the door."

"You know, Jessica, you don't have to call me that. You can call me by first name."

"Oh but I do, Professor. That word makes all the difference, don't you think? It makes everything so much... naughtier. And isn't that the idea? I am a naughty girl."

I gulped. She continued. "I didn't do what I what I was supposed to do. I didn't do a good job on my speech, and now I need special oral training. What do you think professor? Do you think you can help me? Do you think you can help me improve my oral skills?"

The world condensed to a pinpoint.

"Jessica, you are my student and I am not sure that what you are proposing would be proper...."

Her smile got bigger, as she swiveled around. Her feet fell to floor and her hands clapped onto her thighs. They spread open, forcing her skirt upwards. I could see white cotton panties with a stenciled red heart. I sighed, murmured, and my legs began to feel shaky. She tapped the white cotton twice with her left, center-most finger and then walked the rolling chair forward. I stumbled backwards, but was braced up by the door. She giggled girlishly, stopping the chair when her legs could wrap easily around mine.

"So what do you think professor? Can you help me? I have some very special needs." I could feel her hands touching mine, placing them on her shoulders. "It's ok. They can roam." Her left hand, gripped my right firmly, pulling it downwards. So sweet, so delectable. The soft flesh draped in polo material felt exquisite – a dream that had become reality. Every inch was available to my touch. She wasn't wearing a bra. Instead, her nipples stood up prominently begging to be tweaked. So I did.

I felt her clutching my hand, squeezing it. "How does that feel? Do you like that? Maybe we can make it feel a little better."

With those words, she quickly swept my hands from her body. Then, in a single fluid movement, she tugged on her collar pulling her pink polo over her head. She threw it into the corner, beginning a discarded and forgotten pile that would only be used again after our business was finished. A moment later, she placed her hands under her skirt, hooking her fingers in the elastic band. With a slight bounce and lean, she slid her panties down her thighs and off her legs. Her right foot kicked the cotton treasure into the air. Her panties landed on top of her shirt. Jessica winked and smiled lewdly. "Let's see if we can do the same for you."

The door was cold. I leaned on it bracing myself up, not entirely clear on how I should be acting. But that was my last moment of indecision. God, she wanted me! She was a vision – a naked one – tits standing free, defying gravity, age, and all other improbabilities. My hand ran through her blonde ponytail, down to her supple back, and slowly moving around front to grasp that soft, sweet flesh. No guilt. Oh, how I wanted her.

"Ooooh. That's right Professor. Grab my boob. I like it. Yeah that is right. Rougher. Grip it. Squeeze it. Yeah. Pull my nipple. Fuck, yeah"

The word fuck, it sounded so beautiful coming from her lips. "Say it again, Jessica. Say fuck again."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Do you like that? Do you like hearing me say fuck, Professor? Look at my lips, my sweet lips that will do such naughty things to you. Fuck. Oooooh. You like that? I can see you do. Let's give you a little more breathing room. Let's set this fucker free."

My hands were playing with her tits. Her hands were groping my ass. They tightened, pulling me forward just a hair's length from her face. I could feel her hot breath, through my dockers, tracing my burgeoning length with her mouth. Air, warmth, moisture – that's all I could feel. Everything was coming together over my cock.

Her voice was low and breathy, "Do you feel me? You are so close. Can you think of that? Oooh. You are so close to my mouth. Imagine that. My lips trailing up and down, licking you clean. How do you think that will feel. Fuck. You love that word. What other words turn you on? Make you hard? Tits? Do you want to pump my tits? Pussy? She's soooo wet for you right now? Balls? Think of me licking them, slurping on your nuts. Cock? I want to taste it, right now. Give me you cock. Fuck my mouth with your cock."

She pushed me back. I fell with a thud against the door, still standing. My pants began to loosen, as I felt the mechanics of my zipper coming undone. She reached inside, took firm hold, and pulled me out through the opening. That instant lasted forever. The waiting was eternal as her pink tongue extended to touch the head of my cock. And then... fireworks. A soft flick, and a tongue caress, followed by two more of the same. A noisy slurp, and a complete up and down lick. This was a blow job, a glorious blow job. A blow job for the ages performed by the great blow job master – and she was only 18. Such innocent, corn-fed beauty, slurping away, getting skull-fucked. A blonde ponytail bobbing up and then down on my root. How did she get here? How did she get so good?

Who the fuck cares! She was sucking my cock, full throttle. Spit was dribbling everywhere. I quickly worked my belt, and my pants button. I had to give the blonde more room. Yeah, that's right. Plenty of spit, make it all nice and slobbery. Wet is a definite good thing. Slurp it. Smack it against her 18 year-old face. Put it back in her mouth and have her slurp on it some more. I could hear her gag, and there it went – all the way down. Her face was buried in my pubes, and I felt her sweet warmth. What a slut, but wow she was good!

She came up for air, gasping, only to plunge back down. One hand was on my shaft, stroking, while the other gently kneaded my balls. Oh the tingling feels so good. Hold them, and love them. Let them build.

"You are so good. You are such a good little cocksucker. Suck my cock. Suck your teacher's cock. Suck it for a better grade. Do you like that? Do you like being a slut? Do you like being a slut for a grade? Now lick my nuts." She gave me one more lick and her mouth popped off my cock. "Anything you say. I am your fuckin' slut." Wow! There went my nuts, devoured whole, shifting, rolling in and out of her mouth. Her tongue tickled and prodded, caressing my balls. She was amazing.

Her mouth slipped away, leaving my sack slightly cold and damp. 'Professor. I hadn't planned this, but I gotta' get fucked. I am so wet. Please. Take you cock, and fuck my little pussy. Pound the shit out of it, my poor, hungry, little pussy. It wants you. It wants your cock. It will feel sooooo good. Fuck me. Cum inside of me. Make me your slut. I wanna be your slut. "

How could I resist? I tapped her cheeks twice with my cock and she licked its length once more from base to tip. She got up, out of the chair, and I pushed her facedown on my desk. My left hand went to her slender waist, while my right ran up and down the lips of her blonde pussy. She was wet, positively dripping. I dipped my finger inside and swirled it around. This was going to be exquisite. I pulled my finger out and held it to my nose. She smelled so sweet, like a young piece of snatch should smell. I then placed my finger, pussy juice and all, on her lips. She licked it hungrily and said, "Mmmmn. That tastes so good. I love the taste of pussy. I can never get enough." What? I'd have to tuck that thought away for later. Right now, I needed to fuck.

I wrapped my hand around my dick and placed it against her opening. I moved it up and down, trying to find the hole. After a moment's rubbing, I slid in. One thrust, two thrust, three – and I was balls deep.

I think there is no feeling in the world quite like pushing your cock into young, tight, wet, and willing pussy. I just staid there for a moment languishing in the feeling, the pleasure of this unique moment. Everything was warm and soft.

But that wasn't enough. I needed to move. I needed to push. The animal in me crept forward, commanding me to spear this sweet young thing splayed open before me on my cock. Fuck, yes there it was. I needed to push and pull and push again, all the while feeling the heat off those soft velvet walls. Her pussy felt so good, sliding back and forth on my cock.

I grabbed her ass, massaging the taut flesh. Her cheeks gave me something to hold onto, something to move against that would give me enough leverage to really give her a good fucking. My cock slid in and out of her wet cunt, making dull slapping sounds. Yes, that is right. Time to up the speed. Time to really fuck her. Time to pound the shit out of this innocent, little grade-whore.

"Do you like that? Do you like my cock inside of you. Do you like me slamming your sweet little pussy?" I grabbed her ponytail and pulled. Her head was drug upward, and she released a dull moan. "You do, don't you? Fuckin' slut. Oh yeah. You are such a sweet little slut, sliding up and down on my cock. Oh fuck."

"Do it professor. Bang me. BANG ME! Ohhhhhhhh. Bang the fuck outta me, you bastard. Your cock is amazing. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. FUCK ME!!! I am your cum-dumpster, your sweet 18 year-old cum-dumpster. Ahhhhhhh. Fuck. Yeah, fuck your student. She needs a good fuckin' graaaaaaaade!!!"

And so I did. Over and over again, pounding my cock into her pussy. Fucking her until neither of us could speak. Instead there were just low, guttural moans. Time flew, and I have no idea how long we were there. It remains an animal blur of pure passion. Thrust and stroke, we were fucking so raw. My cock and her pussy came together, one wet slap after another. Her juice ran down my leg, filling the room with the scent of our sex. I plunged into her again and again. Oh, sweet pussy. Oh, delectable cunt. Fuck my cock. Take my cum.

I exploded, shooting white ropes of cum deep into her hungry hole. A spasm, a shake, and I fell on top of her sweaty back. Her tits were pressing into my desk, and our breathing slowly dropped to a normal rate. It was too perfect. She was a world-class fuck, she was my fantasy come true. No other woman could ever match this reality.

"That was great professor, but I would like to get up now. Your cum is running down my leg." She grinned.

I moved off of her, she pushed her self up. She moved to the corner and picked up her panties. She rolled them into a ball and stuffed them up her ravaged pussy. I arched an eye brow, and she spoke, "I am a little mushy down there. I don't wanna be walking around campus and feel your spunk drooling out of me. Besides it will give me a treat to lick up later."

She saw the surprise on my face. "Oh you think we are done?" she giggled. "No way, professor. I have no intention of doing well on the final exam. I think you will need to help me there. And I know a few other girls in your classes that might need some tutoring too. And all you have to do is fuck them, each and every single one."