Chapter 19: Rutledge l

HENRY

-- THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2005, FINALS WEEK --

"Ohhhh ... fuuuuuucckk-ckk-ckk-ckk!" The beautiful blonde coed cried out, her entire body jerking forward with each impact of my pelvis against her bubble butt. Bent over my desk, she could feel the increased power of each thrust, feel the slight pain of my fingers digging into her hips as I tightened my grip, and feel me speeding up as I used her body for my own satisfaction. Her cunt was warm and wet, a pleasure tunnel of youthful flesh that surrounded my thick shaft snugly and yielded to each probing penetration. I'd wanted inside this pussy all semester, and now that I finally had it, I was determined to seriously enjoy myself.

I powerfucked the blonde's supple body for about a minute before I started to tire, and slowing down to a long-dicking motion I released her hips and slid my hands underneath the back of her blouse, the material allowing me free entry since it was completely unbuttoned. I recalled how firm and perky her tits had looked in a cherry red bra when she'd unbuttoned the blouse about ten minutes ago. And with that memory in mind, I slid my fingers higher along her naked spine so that I could unhook her bra and then circle my hand beneath her torso to lift her up enough so that I could hold both heavy breasts in my palms.

"Mmm..." she moaned as she pushed her chest up off the desk, surrendering to my desires and letting me fondle her nice melons while I continued to pump into her from behind.

"You like that?" I growled in a gravelly voice. "You like feeling my rough hands squeezing and groping your tits?"

"Yesss..." she hissed, arching her back and thrusting her ass back to meet me.

"Is this what you wanted? To feel my big dick splitting you open and filling you up?"

"Yesss ... So big ... I love it. Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Professor Henry..."

I groaned to hear the compliment, which reinforced what I'd already known all semester: that this hot slut had wanted me to fuck her brains out, period, even IF I didn't have control over her grades.

But I did have control over her grades, at least for this class. And what had started with an innocuous student-teacher meeting more than three months ago had finally come down to this: bending over, dropping her panties, and whoring herself out for an 'A'.

She certainly deserved it.

Now, to be fair, she certainly didn't deserve an 'A' for her coursework. Her homework was filled with errors and her exams exhibited a distinct lack of effort. Time and again, she'd proven that she couldn't keep straight the most important financial theories in her written answers. It wasn't that she was stupid – her math was excellent and she had mastered all the basics – but she failed at anything that required significant memory recall, and her work indicated that she was lazy more than anything else. Studying a little harder would have cured many of her ills, but she'd shown neither the inclination nor desire to put in the time and effort to do so.

Instead, she came to my office hours and begged me to give her the answers. Like any good teacher, I stressed the need for her to internalize her understanding and show self-mastery. Like any red-blooded male, I checked out her short skirt and low-cut blouse. She noticed both and flirted with me the way all pretty girls flirt with a man to curry favor. She agreed to call me "Henry" behind closed doors, and the next time she came to my office, I noticed that the extra slut-button on her blouse was undone.

A week later, she came by my office again. Her homework stunk and she was worried about the upcoming midterm. Two extra buttons on her blouse were undone, and I could easily see the little bow at the base of her emerald green bra. I rather obviously stared at her tits as we talked, but she made no verbal objection. I suggested private tutoring time outside of office hours, and she said she'd think about it.

Three days later, nearly in tears as she held her midterm with a big red 58 at the top of it, she unsubtly insisted she'd do anything to get her grades up. This time, she accepted my offer for private tutoring. And at 7pm on a Friday night, she came to my office in the nearly empty building.

I'd slouched in my chair, spreading my knees to the sides. I didn't say anything, not directly at least. But she took the hint, knelt between my feet, and pulled down my zipper.

Ten minutes later, as she scooped a glob of my jizz off her chin with a finger and popped it into her mouth, I let her watch as I went into the computer and changed her 58 to an 85. She understood that she wasn't going to get into the 90s unless she dropped her panties, but a passing grade on the midterm was good enough for now, and she walked out of my office.

Two weeks later she was back. 85 on the midterm or not, her homework was bad enough to drag down her overall grade. During private tutoring time, she crawled into my lap and made out with me for a few minutes before sliding a hand into my pants and stroking my shaft. That night was the first time I got to see her tits, as she knelt on the floor and fucked my dick between her big melons. I still didn't get pussy, but she got a pearl necklace. Her overall grade went up five points.

We didn't meet up very often. Both of our reputations were on the line, and she knew it. She frequently came to open office hours, sometimes alone and sometimes with a classmate. The "open" nature of office hours meant that anyone could walk in at any time, so she kept her blouse buttoned-up and her demeanor professional whenever a fellow student was in the room. But whenever we were alone, we flirted like crazy and she was only too happy to let me stare at her tits.

She sucked me off five times over the course of the semester, but she never put out or even took off her panties. She also wouldn't come over to my house, wary of putting herself in a potentially dangerous position. Each blowjob improved her grades, but she still only had a 'B' in the class. The way she'd resisted going any further than third base led me to believe that she was satisfied with her grade and wouldn't do anything further. That was okay; it wasn't like I was going entirely without pussy. One of her classmates, Maria Sandoval, had let me fuck her after the second midterm, and everyone knew I was boning Samantha Hitchcock, my T.A. Getting a new blonde coed to blow me a half-dozen times was good enough. I was willing to take what my students would give me, but I knew that pressuring them would only invite discovery and possibly even get me fired. I won't lie to myself: there's nothing moral about improving a girl's grades for sexual favors. But apart from that little detail, we were legal adults engaging in consensual sex. And I could live with that.

Besides, she went and flunked the final. And when she came to my office after that, she told me she wanted an 'A'.

Her eyes twinkled at the way I ravenously stared at her while she unbuttoned her blouse and showed me that cherry red bra. After keeping me at bay for three months, keeping her pants on the entire time, she showed no hesitation to drop her jeans before hopping onto my desk and shoving her hand into her panties. She masturbated herself for me, moaning and tilting her head left and right while caressing her own face and sucking on her pinky. She cupped her boobs and then curled a finger to me in invitation before telling me to take off her panties and give her pussy a lick.

Her cunt was a wet inferno before I got my tongue on it, and she was seriously juiced while grabbing the back of my head and shoving it into her crotch. Drumming her heels against my back, she moaned repeatedly, "Ohhh, eat me Professor! Eat me!"

I pulled up just once, reminding her to call me Henry. But something flashed in her eyes as she said coyly, "Right now, I'd rather call you my Professor."

I grinned and went back to work, realizing this had been a game for her as much as for me. Of course -I- got off on the idea of fucking my students, but every so often I found a coed who got just as excited by the idea of fucking her professor. There were always a one or two in each class; it was merely a matter of figuring out which ones.

More than once over the last two months, I'd wondered if this girl was too smart to be doing this poorly in my class. Perhaps she was flunking on purpose. Perhaps she realized she could get by using sexual favors and devoted her study time to other courses. Whatever the reason, we both were getting what we wanted. And after eating her to an orgasm, she was perfectly compliant as I tugged her off the desk, spun her away from me, and then bent her face down.

I swear she came again the moment I thrust into her. She loved having my dick inside her, and for a moment I cursed all the times she wouldn't let me into her panties over the duration of the semester. Maybe she'd never intended to let me get this far, only putting out when her final exam went so poorly. Maybe making me wait had simply been a part of her own seduction game, a slow build from a mechanical blowjob to making out to titfucks, fondling, and finally ending in sex right after the last test. Whatever the reason, I was only too happy to be fucking her now.

She seemed pretty happy as well. She kept squealing and screaming as I pistoned in and out of her, and I had to clap a hand over her mouth and whisper harshly in her ear to keep it down. Past experience had proven that these offices were actually pretty sound-resistant; but sound-resistant isn't sound-proof, and even though what we were doing was technically consensual, I'd still have a really hard time explaining it to the school board.

But the longer we fucked, the harder it was for EITHER of us to keep quiet. Her pussy simply felt too good, and the mental high of finally bagging the peroxide-blonde coed with the big tits in the front row had me ecstatic with pleasure. After fucking her to one orgasm, I pulled out and rolled her onto her back. She cooed at me and hooked her legs over my shoulders as I stepped forward and shoved myself back inside. And now with her blouse parted to the sides and her bra loose, I palmed her tits again and used them as handholds to really ram her and find my own pleasure.

"Fuck me, Professor Henry! Fuck me!" she urged, her dark eyes glowing with heat as she stared me down. "Harder! Please! Harder!"

"I'm gonna cum," I grunted, feeling my balls tighten. "I'm gonna cum all over your pretty tits."

"Yes! Cum on my tits! Bathe me in your sperm and shower me with your big load. Cum on me! Cum on me! Cum!!!"

"Arrrgh!" Jerking out of her sodden cunt, I took my meat in hand and began to jack it furiously. The blonde coed slipped off the desk, dropping to the floor while holding up her own tits and tilting her head back with a gaping mouth. Just the sight of her like that was enough to set me off, and with three final jerks on my shaft, I groaned and came, spraying forth a line of creamy jism that streaked across her lips and down her chin.

"Mmm..." she moaned, closing her mouth and tilting her head away from me while thrusting her chest forward. I bent and aimed my cockhead at her cleavage, knowing that subsequent shots wouldn't fly quite so far. And with repeated strokes I pumped out the rest of my load over her round breasts.

When I was done, I sagged forward and braced an arm against my desk. Keeping her eyes turned up to stare at me, my pretty blonde student scooped up globs of cum from her own tits, popping them into her mouth and moaning as if they were the most delicious treat she'd ever tasted. It was enough to almost get me hard again, but let's face it: I'm 44 and it would take a little more than mere visuals to get me erect again this fast.

That didn't happen, and instead she retrieved a napkin from her purse and cleaned herself up before fishing out a compact and checking to make sure her makeup hadn't been too messed up. As she re-applied her lipstick, she flashed a smile at me and started re-fastening her bra and blouse, asking, "Was it everything you hoped for, Professor Henry?"

I grinned, pulled up my pants, and slumped into my chair. Nodding gratefully, I replied, "Amazing."

Her eyebrows arched, and her smile broadened as she retrieved her own jeans and panties. "Is that an 'amazing' with an 'A'?"

I smirked and called up the grading program on my computer. She watched as I typed into the search box: Casey McCahill. And in the box underneath "Final Exam", I changed her 55 into a 95. It was enough to give her an A-minus in the class.

Giggling, Casey hugged my shoulders from behind, and then turned to peck my cheek. "Gee thanks, Henry!"

I patted her arm and replied, "It was my pleasure, Casey."

She pecked my cheek again before coming around the chair and sliding into my lap. Wrapping her arms around my head, she bent and shoved her tongue down my throat, making out with me for a minute or so before pulling back. And with a brilliant smile, she said, "You know, I'm taking one of your electives next semester, too! I'm looking forward to getting some more ... tutoring..."

I kissed her back and replied, "Me, too."

-- TUESDAY, JANUARY 17, 2006 --

Swinging opening one of the cabinets above my desk, I parked my face in front of the mirror affixed to the back side of the door and checked my appearance. Vanity was a vice I couldn't resist, and since today was the first day of the new semester, I HAD to be sure I looked my best. Now, I would never stoop to makeup or anything like that, but I made sure my long hair hung over my shoulder just right, and I smiled broadly to reassure myself of how that expression would look. Just the right amount of confidence and charm, although the crows feet wrinkles besides my eyes were becoming worrisome.

I checked to make sure the sleeves of my shirt were rolled up to my elbows just right, and adjusted my Argyle vest so that it hung straight. Running my right hand up my cheek to collect loose hairs, I tucked them over my ear and then stepped out into the hall, immediately noticing the gorgeous brunette walking in my direction.

"Good morning, Viktoriya," I said grandly, my perfected charming smile on my lips right away.

She rolled her eyes dismissively and brushed past rather rudely, not pausing to apologize even though her shoulder clipped mine. "Henry..." she drawled in passing, the absolute minimum of politeness.

I sighed and turned to follow her toward the stairs that would lead us both down to our classrooms. I stared at her perfectly formed ass encased in a long but tight black skirt. For a woman in her forties, Viktoriya Isakova truly was in excellent shape. Still, she had lived up to her ice queen reputation, rejecting all of my advances and never giving me an inch. "Bitch," I muttered beneath my breath.

Turning at the stairs, my fellow professor shot me a cold blue stare, and I wondered for a moment whether or not she'd heard me. I smiled genially, but she turned her eyes forward and descended rapidly.

I didn't believe in auspicious signs, but this hadn't been the best start to the new semester. Still, I knew I was about to walk into a room full of excited young minds, a decent percentage of them female. And I held out hope that the day would only get better.

It did.

This morning I was teaching this semester's Corporate Finance class, and I knew from reviewing the list of students enrolled that TWO of my previous conquests would be in attendance. Neither of them had promised me future sex the way Casey had, and past performance did not necessarily guarantee future results. But I had found that girls willing to trade favors for previous grades were far more likely to do so again.

But even more exciting was the fresh blood in the class. Even though this was a Senior-level course, there were two Juniors enrolled, one of them a very pretty girl. But overachieving Juniors rarely did poorly enough to need any grade enhancement, so I didn't really think I would get anywhere with her. On the other hand, three Econ majors had enrolled, and those students often had some difficulty transitioning from pure financial math to corporate business concepts. Of the three, two were male and one female, and oh what a female! Dirty-blonde, with electric green eyes. Pouty lips simply MADE for sucking dick. Curves to die for, with two big sweater-puppies denting out a form-fitting pastel purple top in a way that made me want to bite my knuckles to keep from saying something stupid in public. And she had a way of carrying herself, even seated at a desk, that screamed out raw sexuality. I took attendance, and when she raised her hand at the name Peyton Kent, I decided then and there that I would have her before the semester was out.

One way ... or another.

-- FRIDAY, JANUARY 20, 2006 --

"Miss McCahill. Please stay a moment?"

The peroxide-blonde in the front row looked up, and then shrugged as she said something to her friend in the desk beside her. Both of them packed away their belongings, but then the friend got up and departed while Casey remained in her seat.

One-by-one, I dealt with the three students who had come to ask questions of me after class. One-by-one, they each departed as well. And only then did the pretty coed stand up and saunter over to me, swaying her hips side-to-side while a smile played upon her lips.

"Hello there, Henry. What can I do for you?" she asked sweetly.

I frowned and folded my arms over my chest. Despite her suggestive posing, we were in a public classroom with the door wide open. "Casey, you didn't turn in your homework this week."

Her eyes popped open and she touched a finger to her lips, taking on an patently-false expression of complete innocence. "Really? I had no idea?"

I saw right through her play-acting. "You have to at least attempt your coursework," I scolded.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. I've been a naughty girl. Please, sir. I'm sure there must be something I can do to make it up to you." She reached out and took my hand.

Hurriedly, I jerked my hand out of her grasp. "You can't DO that here!" I hissed.

Feigning innocence with a pinky between her lips, she batted her eyelashes coquettishly and mused on that for a moment. "You're right. This is definitely not the place. Perhaps we should discuss this in your office?"

I sighed. "Casey. It's the middle of the school day."

Her eyes sharpened. "Are you saying you don't want a blowjob right now?"

I blinked twice. Even with students who had previously put out for me, none of them had ever come onto me this fast before. Not even Samantha when she was a student. "I ... uh ... I didn't say that. But perhaps this evening would be a better time for some private tutoring."

Casey shrugged and shook her head. "Sorry, but I've got a date tonight."

My eyebrows rose. "A date?"

She giggled. "I'm a single college girl. Dates happen."

I frowned, momentarily annoyed.

Casey slipped her hand into mine again. "Come on. Let's go up to your office. I really want an 'A' on that homework assignment."

I sighed and let her tug me up the aisle. But before we left the classroom, I pulled my hand away and said, "We can't be seen together. I'll go upstairs first. Come to my office in five minutes, okay?"

Casey shrugged like she didn't care. "Whatever. Okay."

-- FRIDAY, JANUARY 27, 2006 --

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

I glanced up and saw a mesmerizingly beautiful blonde leaning against the half-open door, almost absentmindedly knocking on the wood. I sat up straight and collected the stack of papers I was grading in my hands, bouncing them off the desk to straighten them out before setting the whole stack aside. "Peyton, yes. Please, come in."

As she gracefully walked into the room, I reached over and took hold of one of the chairs next to the conference table, turning it so that she and I would be facing each other without any obstructions between us. I wanted to have a full view of this gorgeous example of femininity. She set her bag down alongside a chair leg and then sat obediently, her posture erect and poised.

My eyes momentarily flicked up and down her body. She truly was one of the sexiest and most exciting students I'd ever seen. Feeling my gaze upon her, the pretty coed actually perked up and preened a little. So far my once over had not been lingering enough to be dirty, and a pretty girl likes to be reminded of her attractiveness. Still, I returned my attention to her face before she might start to feel uncomfortable.

I smiled and gave her a paternal smile. "Peyton, do you know why I've called you in here?"

Pursing her lips momentarily, she thought for a moment and then shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Professor."

"Please, call me Henry."

She arched an eyebrow at that, but said tentatively, "Henry..."

I beamed before schooling my features and stating seriously, "Peyton, I make it a point to be involved in my students' progress, to proactively step in to encourage or otherwise assist them and make sure they properly understand the material before it becomes a problem. I'm asking a number of students to see me here on the basis of their performance these first couple of weeks, and you are unfortunately one of them."

She frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm trying to avoid a problem. You see, Peyton. I'm already familiar with most of my students in this class. They've been part of the business program for a year now, but I've never had your pleasure before. So I don't know whether your poor showings on the two homework assignments thus far are an aberration or if it shows a fundamental lack of understanding."

Her frown deepened. "Lack of understanding?"

I gave her an apologetic shrug. "Most of the students coming from the Econ major excel during the initial phases of this course, while we're still rooted in basic finance. But as we get deeper into Corporate philosophy and structures, the material becomes harder for those not from the business program. An Econ major performing well during the first two weeks might very well have no problem as the semester winds on, but my dear, you've gotten low 70s on both homework assignments thus far. And I don't want to see your scores get any worse."

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "The material has been ... challenging ... thus far."

"And I'm afraid you're only going to find it even more challenging. Do you have any friends you can study with?"

"No. None of my friends are in the class."

"Really? I noticed on the class roster that there are two fellow Econ majors enrolled."

She shook her head. "We're acquaintances. Nothing more."

"Then perhaps it would do you some good to find one or two classmates you'd feel comfortable working with, and ask them to partner up for studying. If you want, I could even ask some of the students on your behalf."

She shook her head immediately, holding her head erect pridefully. "That won't be necessary. I'll manage just fine on my own."

I frowned and leaned forward, an encouraging expression on my face. "Really, it's something you should consider."

"I will. Thank you for the advice."

"Well, I also have open office hours," I said, sitting back in my chair and gesturing expansively to the room around us. "You're more than welcome to drop by with any concerns."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Henry, remember?"

She blushed and granted me a demure, "Henry."

I smiled warmly. "Think about it. The semester is young, and you still have time to figure things out. But the total semester is only sixteen weeks, and as each one passes, your challenge will only get harder."

"Thank you ... Henry ... I understand."

I smiled and waved at her dismissively. "See you in class."

"Ungh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!"

Braced on her forearms with her ass in the air, the beautiful blonde grunted in rhythm with each impact of my pelvis against her butt cheeks. Her entire body jerked forward, but just before she reached the apex of her forward progress, I reversed course and felt my cock slowly retract from her tight cunt, only my grip on her waist preventing me from becoming fully dislodged as I yanked her body back to meet my next thrust.

"Oh, Henry..." Samantha groaned, turning back to look at me as I skewered her from behind. "Oh, Henry..."

Growling, I reached up and pushed my hand down on the back of her head, shoving my teaching assistant's face down into the mattress. I didn't want to see her face, not right now. It would ruin the fantasy I was conjuring in my head, the visual that it was actually undergraduate coed Peyton Kent bent over before me on my bed and not the 23-year-old teaching assistant I'd been banging for nearly three years now.

It wasn't that I was tired of Samantha. She was beautiful and sexy and only too willing to let me violate her nubile body at a moment's notice. She was just ... known ... and Peyton was the unknown. It was the mystery of a girl I'd never had before that made seducing students each semester so much fun.

Closing my eyes and concentrating on the sensations of my cock imbedded in a warm cunt, I resumed fucking her. I worked my brain to recall everything about Peyton when she'd come to my office this afternoon, from the pout of her lips as she frowned to hear she wasn't doing well in my class to the swell of her breasts encased in yet another form-fitting sweater. I knew she would have glorious breasts, not too big, but certainly bigger than Samantha's which were currently in my palms.

Dammit, I was losing the fantasy again. Pulling my hands away from Samantha's tits, I stroked them instead along her spine and closed my eyes once more. I tried to remember the scent of Peyton's perfume, and the hourglass shape of her body as she sat in the chair in front of me. And the way she slipped off the chair, knelt at my feet, and unzipped me to pull out my already-growing cock.

Shit, I was losing the Peyton fantasy again. SHE hadn't given me a blowjob this morning; that had been Casey again. The impish girl simply wouldn't do her damn homework, and she insisted on earning her grades in another manner. It wasn't that I minded getting a blowjob. She certainly knew how to orally please a man. But if she kept doing this every week, and especially during the middle of the day, I was certain we would eventually get caught.

It would be safer if Casey would come by later in the evening, when the building was more or less empty. Fridays especially were quite dead. But she'd told me she had another date, and when I asked if it was the same guy, she'd teased me by asking if I was worried she'd cut me off.

Hell, I wouldn't mind a middle-of-the-day rendezvous if Casey would at least put out, but for one thing she insisted that no homework assignment was worth her pussy, and for another she couldn't possibly show up to a date with an already-fucked cunt. I'd probably have to wait for a midterm at least before she let me stick it in her again.

In the meantime, I still had Samantha to stick it to. She probably deserved more from me for her loyalty. In some ways, she was the perfect girlfriend: obedient, loyal, and lacking any jealousy for the way I continued to prowl on my students. More than once, my annoying conscience had suggested I publicly accept her as my girlfriend. It wouldn't be a big deal; she wasn't my student any longer. But for one thing, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? And for another, going public would require me to get a new teaching assistant. And it was terribly convenient for her to be my T.A. whenever I got horny while we were both in my office.

So that was settled. Peyton wasn't doing so well in my class, but not poorly enough for me to make a move on her just yet. Casey would probably give me another blowjob next week, and she was good enough that it was something to look forward to even if she didn't put out. And my two other conquests from previous semesters, Jennifer and Roselyn, were exhibiting early struggles with the material as well.

The semester was sixteen weeks. There was still time.

For now, I rammed forward, grabbing onto Samantha's hips and pounding the shit out of her. And right when her knees buckled and she collapsed facedown onto the mattress, I relaxed my PC muscles and felt my ejaculation flow.

-- TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2006 --

"Professor, please..." Roselyn Marquez was crying, hugging herself while her tears streaked her dark makeup. I rather liked the way fashion trends had turned some of these young girls into virtual raccoons, wearing so much black around their eyes. I especially like the way their eyeliner and mascara ran when they cried, even more so when they cried because they were choking while my big dick plunged deeper into their throats.

Not that my big dick was in Roselyn's throat, not today at least. I'd seen the sight before, last year when the Mexican beauty was in my pre-requisite Finance course. She'd never managed a deep throat before and only barely pulled it off with me. But I told her I would only give her a 'B' in the course if she pulled it off, otherwise it would be a 'C'. And so she'd swallowed her gag reflex, pressed her lips around the base of my cock, and then swallowed every drop of spunk I sprayed against her tonsils.

And I wanted to see it again.

"There has to be something else I can do to improve my grades," she pleaded.

"You did it before," I reasoned cheerfully. "No reason why you can't do it again."

"It HURT last time. I felt like my throat got scratched, and my voice went hoarse for a week."

"You might say a little discomfort might be worth a 'B'." I shrugged. "On the other hand, if you don't want to do it, you already know what will get you an 'A'."

Roselyn's eyes shot up, and if anything she started crying harder while shaking her head vigorously.

I reached forward and gently stroked her arm. She was sobbing so hard that she didn't recoil from my touch, and in fact allowed me to slip off my chair and kneel next to hers. I hugged her warmly, stroking my student's back while shushing her gently. And eventually, she managed to regain her composure.

"I can't have sex with you," she whimpered pitifully, turning her big brown eyes up to me.

I shook my head. "You don't have to. I was simply offering you the opportunity. I can't just hand out 'A's for nothing. And unfortunately, your performance on the midterm was not what either of us had hoped for."

"I can't have sex with you," she repeated.

"Then don't. Go home. Study harder. A 63 on one midterm will not single-handedly destroy your grade. An 'A' in the class is extremely unlikely; I'll be honest with you about that. But you can still pull yourself up to a 'B' completely on your own."

Roselyn nodded eagerly, and I stood up, returning to my chair while she wiped her eyes. I pulled a tissue from the box on my desk and handed it to her. She cleaned herself up and then asked for another tissue, which she used to blow her nose before throwing both into the trash can.

I gave her a warm, unthreatening smile and said, "Good luck. I mean it, Roselyn. All I want is to see you succeed in this class. I do hope you study hard and that your work shows remarkable improvement."

She nodded and then stood up, gathering her bag before turning and walking to the door. But before she opened it, the Mexican beauty turned and looked back at me, and since I thought our meeting was over, it took me a few seconds to look up at her.

"I can't have sex with you ... tonight," she stated quietly in a nervous voice. "Tonight is Valentine's, and I have a date with my boyfriend."

I shrugged and nodded. "Totally understandable."

"But what about ... tomorrow night? I'll go to your house."

Blinking in surprise, it took me a moment for her words to sink in. But then smiling genially as if I'd expected her response all along, I merely grabbed a post-it note and scribbled down my address. Extending it out to her, I suggested, "Nine o'clock?"

She hesitated before taking the note from me, but she did. Staring down at the numbers and letters on the yellow square of paper, she nodded before looking up and staring at me with renewed determination. "Okay. Nine o'clock."

I smiled back at her, and let my eyes rove rather wolfishly up and down her body. Roselyn had J.Lo's ass, and I was already imagining what it would look like up close and personal while I fucked her from behind. "Looking forward to it."

With Roselyn gone, I turned my attention to the rest of my Corporate Finance students. Jennifer Chiu, unfortunately, had improved markedly as a student and no longer needed my special brand of grade-enhancement. She had a solid B+ in the class, and while I'd dropped an innuendo or two that it wouldn't take much from her to push that up to an 'A', so far she seemed content to go through this class without any special favors.

Nandita Sircar, on the other hand, had sunk down into the mid-60s with a terrible midterm. Initial student-teacher meetings had shown her to be an exceptionally reserved young woman, and I wouldn't have been surprised to learn she was still a virgin. While not beautiful, she had a waifish cuteness that appealed to me, and I certainly fantasized a time or two about pinning her small body beneath me and forcibly penetrating that precious maidenhead. This fantasy alone was what kept her on my radar, and kept me flirting with her despite the girl's utter lack of response. In the end, she'd probably simply fail the class, and I'd have nothing to do with it. If nothing else, her reticence probably made her too much of a tattletale risk even IF she gave in. But if her mood changed sometime in the next several weeks, I was ready to seize the opportunity.

And that brought me to the premium object of my lust: Peyton Kent. On academic performance alone, she deserved a grade in the mid-70s. That would have put her in a position of at least passing the course, if not doing so comfortably. The problem was: a passing grade was no motivation. So ever since that first homework assignment, I'd been ... adjusting ... her marks.

Errors that would have cost another student four or five points cost Peyton six or seven. Essay answers from her were interpreted with extreme prejudice. And then of course there was the bookkeeping error that recorded the 72 written in red ink on her exceptionally valuable midterm as a 62 in my computer system. It was an accidental keystroke that could be explained away and verbally apologized for if discovered, but in the meantime it was the catalyst for pushing her overall grade quite firmly into the sixties.

It wasn't the first time I had fudged a student's grades in order to gain influence over her, and my past results had mostly been satisfactory indeed. If Peyton had been a better student, a B-student at least, I wouldn't have been able to fudge her grades enough to do this. But she was a middling 'C' at best, and the course was only going to get more difficult. I had already requested a student-teacher meeting with her tomorrow, and I had high hopes that I now had the leverage necessary to ... nudge ... her in the right direction.

I was still fantasizing about the things I was going to do to Peyton when there came a knock at my door. Frowning, I checked my calendar and noted that this wasn't office hours and that I hadn't scheduled any other meetings today. Nonetheless, someone had come to my office and I called out loud enough to get through the sound-resistant door, "Come in!"

The door cracked open about a foot and Casey McCahill stuck her pretty head in. She grinned at me and peeked around the office. "Did I come at a bad time? Anyone else in here?"

I rolled my eyes and gestured her inside. I wouldn't be so crazy as to attempt anything with anyone in the middle of the day like this ... at least, except for the last few weeks when she had cornered me for a blowjob. But at least those had been Fridays when traffic was a little less.

Casey came in and closed the door behind her, but didn't lock it. I felt both relieved and disappointed: relieved that with an unlocked door she wouldn't try to sneak in another blowjob, and disappointed that I wouldn't get another blowjob. But I took a deep breath and cleared my head, gesturing her into the usual chair while I swiveled mine to face her.

She didn't sit. Instead, she put both hands on the backrest and bent over the chair, low enough to give me a nice view of her cleavage. Two extra slut-buttons were undone, showing off a pink bra with black lace trim encasing her big titties. Watching my eyes zero in on her rounded boobs, she gave me a coy smile and a wink before asking, "I realize it's a little late for me to be asking, but do you have plans for tonight?"

My eyebrows arched. "Plans? It's Valentine's Day."

"Oh, I know. That's why I'm asking."

"Shouldn't a pretty young thing like you have guys banging down the door for a chance to be with you tonight?"

"To be honest, there's only one guy I wanted to be with tonight..." She sighed mournfully before glancing up and seeing my stricken look. Laughing, she stood up straight and added, "No, not you, silly. A young guy. A student. But he's neck deep in pussy right now and I can't get in with that crowd. So I'm here. Thought I'd kill two birds with one stone."

I frowned and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Casey giggled. "You haven't seen my midterm yet, have you?"

"How could I? You're not taking it until tomorrow."

"I know. Quite rude of a professor to schedule a midterm for the day after Valentine's, don't you think. Some girls – not me – actually have dates tonight and can't study."

I shrugged. If a girl performed a little more poorly on a midterm ... well ... that could only be good for me, right?

"Anyways," Casey continued, now tracing her fingertips along her open blouse, brushing against her upthrust tits. "I thought I should warn you ahead of time that I'm not showing up to class tomorrow to take the exam."

I groaned. "Casey, you have barely done a thing in class all semester. You can't expect me to keep letting you coast by like this."

"Can't I? We've got a deal, don't we? I keep blowing you, and you keep giving me passing grades."

"Blowjobs suffice for homework; this is a midterm we're talking about. It's one thing to ask me to revise a mid-50s score upwards to a 'B'. It's quite another thing to ask me to give you a passing grade when you won't even show up!"

"You can stick it in my ass," she said levelly, evaluating me coolly.

I blinked rapidly and suddenly found myself short of breath. Samantha never let me put it in her ass. "Excuse me?"

"Not just a blowjob. You can fuck me again. And you can even stick it up my ass. Tonight. I'll come to your house. You can have me for as long as you want me. All night. Fuck me and cum all over my tits and then I'll suck you hard and you can ram it up my poop chute. And then I'll even suck you hard again."

My mouth was dry. I'd bedded more than a few sluts ever since I became a professor. By nature, it's the wilder ones who are more willing to put out to improve their grades. I'd even sodomized a few along the way. But not even the most wanton bitches had ever been quite so ... blunt ... the way Casey was right now.

"You serious?"

She sighed mournfully once again. "You're catching me at an opportune moment. I'm horny, and I'm lonely, and the guy I want is banging someone else. More than a couple of someones from what I understand."

"I'm sorry."

She waved me off. "Not your fault. Point is: It's Valentine's and I'm in the mood to get ridden hard. I figured you'd be up for it. But a deal's a deal, and I want my 'A'."

My cock was rock hard in my pants from the ideas Casey was putting into my head, but I sighed regretfully. "Actually, I do have plans tonight," I confessed. "Like you said, it's Valentine's."

"With who? Samantha? That's fine. I do girls, too."

My eyes popped open. "Excuse me?"

Casey grinned, pinky at her lips as she posed herself and gave me a coy smile. "Like I said: You're catching me at an opportune moment."

-- FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2006 --

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

I glanced up and saw a mesmerizingly beautiful blonde leaning against the half-open door. I sat up straight and swept the papers on my desk over to the side, immediately giving her my full attention. "Yes, Peyton. Please, come in. Samantha, I'll see you next week."

It was late in the afternoon on a Friday. By design, I'd scheduled this meeting for the end of the day when the building would be emptying and there would be fewer eyes around. My lissome blonde teaching assistant stood up, collected her things, and smiled at me. Although our professional roles meant that she wouldn't be returning to this office until Monday, I already knew I'd be seeing her well before next week. If nothing happened with any of my students, I'd call Samantha and have her in my bed tonight. If something did, I'd have her come over on Saturday. She would only be too happy to do so, especially after the Valentine's night I'd given her. It had started with a romantic public dinner with flowers and chocolate and the whole nine yards. It had ended with blindfolding her on my bed while we made out, and then sneaking Casey into the room to begin eating her out to orgasm before I moved up the bed and fed Samantha my cock. To say Samantha was surprised was a big understatement, as she'd never been with another woman before. But she was tipsy from the wine and in love from the date and extremely aroused from the orgasm Casey had given her, and we had quite the night to remember. Casey even talked Samantha into giving me her anal virginity.

Go Me!

But now I was on to the next conquest. I'd known from the beginning of the semester that out of all the girls in all of my classes, Peyton Kent was the one I wanted the most. I'd been fortunate that she'd done poorly enough to give me some fudging room, and I had hopes that her grade pressure would lead to her giving in. But none of it would matter if she closed up as much as Nandita Sircar, deciding she would rather fail.

I didn't think she would.

For one thing, I'd done my homework on Peyton these past weeks. I knew she was President of the Delta Delta Delta Sorority, and one doesn't become President of a campus sorority by being a virgin. Casual inquiries informed me that she was a queen bee personality, a type that had honestly given me quite a bit of trouble over the years. Girls like that were usually too prideful to easily give it up. On the other hand, girls like that were usually too prideful to let themselves fail, or let themselves been seen in a bad light. When faced with a situation where the only way to save face was some dark deed done in complete privacy, pragmatism usually won out over prissy ideals.

I'd noticed a change in Peyton over the past few weeks. Her confident strut had become more of a gallows trudge as she approached the chair I set out for her. Instead of sitting erect and imperious as she faced me, she kept her knees together and hands in her lap as her shoulders hunched over ever so slightly. While not a girl defeated, she was a girl worried about potential defeat. And her eyes were wary as she looked over at me.

My eyes took their time roving up and down her body. Seriously, Peyton Kent was fucking gorgeous. For weeks now, it took everything I had to avert my eyes from her in class. She was sex personified, her facial beauty and body's curves promising the greatest ride of my life. She was also thus far unattainable, resisting all of my flirtations with only the most minimal responses to maintain social politeness. Usually by the time following the first midterm, most girls I was pursuing had picked up on my innuendoes and Peyton was no different. But while some of my targets around this time frame began responding in kind, putting out feelers to see if they could somehow influence me into improving their situation, Peyton fell squarely into the camp of girls who didn't want to do a thing with me.

Such were the odds. Of all the girls enrolled in my classes each semester, maybe ten of them would perform poorly enough to put them within my reach. Of those ten, at least two of them would be physically repulsive enough for me to not even consider, but even the plain ones could sometimes suck dick like a dream. Of the eight left, usually only one or two would reciprocate my advances, which usually left about six who would rather fail than get on their knees. If Peyton were a plainer-looking girl, I would have let her walk away.

But she wasn't plain.

I wanted her. The way I let my gaze linger on her nubile body told her I wanted her. And I didn't want to let her go.

Weeks ago, she'd felt my momentary glance and preened for my attention. But the way I ogled her today let her know I was sizing her up as a sexual object, and not just a student. She was only too aware of the heat in my gaze, and she averted her eyes while almost subconsciously covering her exposed cleavage with a hand.

I knew my point had been made, and that I should stop staring. But for some reason I couldn't help myself. She was just too gorgeous, and I wanted her too much. I told myself to rein it in, to keep a lid on my lust. After all, the last time I'd felt THIS enamored with a girl had been with Dawn Evans, and that situation had nearly turned into a disaster.

The mental reminder of Dawn quickly put a damper on my lust, and I straightened up. Focusing my attention on Peyton's pretty face, I smiled and asked, "Peyton, do you know why I've called you in here?"

Pursing her lips momentarily, she sighed and replied, "My midterm performance, Professor."

"Hey..." I ran my hand through my hair and grinned jovially. "I've told you to call me 'Henry' outside of class."

"Thank you, Professor. But I'd feel more comfortable not using familiar names."

I frowned and sat up straight, putting on my imperious Professor mode. Now wasn't the time to continue flirtations. I'd made it clear I was sexually attracted to her. She would know her escape route when the time came. In the meantime, it was best to hammer home the precariousness of her academic situation. There were still nearly two months left in the class, and while she still had time to salvage her grade, the pressure would only mount with each passing week.

Steepling my fingers, I stared down at her and stated evenly, "My dear, I'm sure that you're aware that your major requires you to get at least a C-minus to receive credit for this course."

"I got a 72 on the midterm."

"Yes, but with a homework average in the sixties, you currently fall below the 70% cutoff for a C-minus."

She pursed her lips. "I'm getting better. I'm studying harder."

"For your sake, I do hope so. All I want is to see you succeed in this class. Have you considered what I suggested about seeking help from homework partners?"

She sighed. "I've just been so busy. I have a lot of other commitments and adhering to someone else's study schedule just isn't practical."

Good. Then she would have no one to compare her homework grades to. I could probably fudge her scores even further downward. Taking a deep breath, I canted my head and intoned, "Well then you'll need to make a decision at some point about how you prioritize your days. I realize that you are a busy girl, and quite popular too. But at some point, we must all realize that we are here for school. Understood?"

Glumly, she bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll see you next Tuesday." I waved her off dismissively.

Peyton collected her bag and left quickly. I smiled and plotted out the rest of my seduction. This would be the last time I called her in for a student-teacher meeting, no matter how poorly her homework grades became. Even if her homework actually improved, my grading of her homework would not. Still, I would not call her in. Any further private meetings would be fruitless. She didn't respond to flirtation, and since she already knew I wanted to fuck her, to call her into my office would put her even more on the defensive. She would plod along, at least until the second midterm. And then perhaps when she saw a big fat 60 at the end of March with only six or seven weeks to go, SHE would come to ME.

The ball was in her court, and it would be up to HER to initiate contact with me again. And when she did so, she would be much more amenable to suggestion.

Perhaps I might even toy with her then. Maybe her grades would actually improve a little, just enough to get by. I could make that happen. The grades she saw on in red on her papers would continue to put her at the borderline, and with the lack of more student-teacher meetings she might even start to believe she had a comfortable 'C'. Only after the third and final exam in mid-April would I call her into my office and give her the dire pronouncement that she was solidly in the 60s, which would mean that she wouldn't get course credit. And this being the second semester of her Senior year, it would mean poor Peyton Kent would NOT graduate with her fellow classmates.

And then? Faced between bending over and dropping her panties versus not graduating? I was pretty sure an experienced young woman like a sorority President would be willing to take on a one-night stand she'd rather forget about. I wouldn't mind. It would be better for both of us if she forgot about me afterward ... as long as it was afterward.

Looks like I'd be calling Samantha tonight after all.