Chapter 20: Vendetta l

-- TUESDAY, APRIL 4, 2006, SENIOR YEAR --

I was waiting outside her office, leaning against the wall with a paperback of Sudoku puzzles in my hand. I was so engrossed in my current puzzle that I didn't notice her arrival. One minute, I was marking dots to represent the number 2 in a square in the upper-right hand corner; the next, she was clearing her throat right in front of me.

"Benjamin. You are in my way," Viktoriya Isakova stated calmly with a bemused smile on her face.

I dropped the book to my waist, stood up straight, and returned her smile. Checking my watch, I noticed the time and replied, "You're four minutes late this morning."

She shrugged and answered, "It happens." And then she gestured rather brusquely with two fingers for me to move.

Obediently, I stepped aside and allowed my professor to fit her key to her door and unlock it. I then followed her inside and set my messenger bag on the floor next to her conference table out of habit from the months I'd spent here as her summer intern.

Viktoriya went to the coat rack, removed her peacoat, and hung it up. And then she turned to evaluate the particular way I was staring at her. "You are not gazing at me with your usual expression of lustful admiration. Either I am losing my appeal or there is something else that brings you to my office so early on a Tuesday morning."

I nodded slowly before returning to the office door and pushing it closed. "Something else," I stated seriously.

"Such an ominous tone. What is wrong?"

Turning to face her, I held up a hand and prefaced myself by stating, "My apologies in advance, as I mean no offense. But first I have to know if you've ever traded a good grade for sexual favors."

The look of honest astonishment on Viktoriya's face satisfied my concerns on its own. Still, it was nice to hear her add, "Benjamin! Absolutely not!"

I stared at her with raised eyebrows, clearly expecting further explanation, and she gave it to me.

"I have sex with some of my students, true enough. But those are mature relationships between consenting adults, and I have never slept with a student while he or she was my student; not even you, if you will recall. Once we returned to class, I cut you off."

I waggled my head. "It's a fine line between student and intern, but I'll grant you that."

"Perhaps, but the point is that grades have never been part of the bargain. Why do you ask? I choose to believe you would not ask such a thing of me lightly."

My eyes hardened. "How much do you know about Professor Rutledge's dealings with his students?"

Viktoriya frowned, staring at me in a seriously evaluative manner. She'd been standing by the coat rack, but now moved over to her desk while gesturing for me to sit in a chair on the opposite side. "What are you implying?" she asked, her elbows on the desktop and her hands pressed together.

I sat down, slumping in the chair with my elbows supported by the armrests as I replied, "I'm implying that he's trading grades for sex. And I'm implying that he's done it before."

"What does it matter to you? I find it hard to believe that Henry Rutledge has propositioned you."

"Me? No, of course not."

"Then someone you care about? One of your female acquaintances perhaps?" Viktoriya leaned forward so that her hands, still pressed palms-together, ended up to the side of her face.

I averted my gaze but nodded. And with a heavy sigh, I decided to say what I'd come here to share in the first place. "What prompted me to come here is a friend of mine who is in one of his current classes. But what's been weighing on my mind for nearly a year ... well ... it's Dawn."

Viktoriya blinked in surprise, sitting up straight and pulling her arms off the desk.

I sighed again and shook my head. Staring a thousand yards at some point behind and vaguely to the right of Viktoriya's head, I started mumbling, "I never told you the circumstances behind Dawn leaving school. Did Kim tell you anything?"

"Well, yes. Kim told me that Dawn cheated on you and then left the campus. She could not face returning here, so she took a leave of absence to get her head straight."

"But that's it?"

"There is more?"

I glanced over to see Viktoriya's intrigued face. "I never told Kim this part, which is probably why you didn't know. Still, I can never be sure how much that girl has eavesdropped..."

Viktoriya gave me a bemused smirk.

I returned to my focal spot behind her and vaguely to the right. Taking a deep breath, I said, "I'm trusting that you won't use this information to somehow harm Dawn or her record. It's pure hearsay, and while I don't think Dawn lied to me, given her mental state when she left I can't be totally sure. The point is: Dawn said she blackmailed Professor Rutledge into giving her an 'A'. She claimed that she seduced him, knowing that he'd been eyeballing her all semester."

"Wait. The man Dawn cheated on you with was Henry Rutledge?!?"

"No! No ... At least, I'm fairly positive she didn't sleep with him." I took another deep breath. "The cheating was before that with a guy we both knew. The thing with Rutledge, well ... I understood that Dawn wasn't doing very well in the class. She said she was about to fail, but for all I know she only had a B-minus or something. That's not important. The point is that Dawn came onto him and talked him into confessing that he wanted to fuck her, even though she was still his student. She caught it on tape and threatened to release the tape if he didn't give her an 'A' in the class. Apparently he caved."

Viktoriya whistled.

"Now I thought that was all there was to the story. Like I said, I don't think Dawn lied to me. We were in a better place when she told me all that, and I'd like to think she didn't hide anything from me. But one thing that always bothered me was how she claimed that Rutledge wasn't a sexual predator. Sure, he wanted to bang hot coeds, and he has a history of doing so. We both know he's nailing Samantha Hitchcock. But Dawn claimed that he doesn't trade grades for sex."

"That part, unfortunately, is not true," Viktoriya stated solemnly.

"So he does do it?"

Viktoriya shrugged. "I am not in a particularly good moral position to judge, but I do not personally condone such practices. However, I am aware of it taking place on this campus. I don't know what you intend to do with such information, but yes, Henry Rutledge has been willing to ... enhance ... a female student's scores from time to time."

"In exchange for sex?"

Viktoriya sighed. "Yes."

"And you know for sure?"

"I have it from a very reliable source, yes."

"But you're not going to tell me who, are you?"

Viktoriya steepled her fingers again, with her elbows on the desktop. "Benjamin ... I am fond of you. But where are you going with this? Is this some misguided attempt to save your friend from a potentially bad decision? Has she sent you here to find out IF she would be successful were she to proposition Professor Rutledge in exchange for in improved grade?"

"What? No. Sleeping with him is the LAST thing she wants to do. But she's apparently on the brink of failing, and she claims that HE'S made it quite clear what he wants from her. And DAMMIT! I WON'T LET THIS BE A REPEAT OF DAWN!!!"

"Benjamin! Calm down!" Viktoriya had suddenly stood up from her chair, leaned over, and put her hands on top of mine where I'd slammed my fist down onto the desktop.

The bottom of my right hand hurt from the impact, and I was breathing heavily. Slowly, I tracked my gaze up from where her hands covered mine, and found myself staring at her tits hanging forward and clearly visible through a V-necked sweater. But I wasn't thinking about sex right now, and my eyes finished their path up to Viktoriya's face.

"Benjamin..." she began carefully. "Do you think for any reason that your friend is being coerced or otherwise forced into propositioning Professor Rutledge?"

"You mean besides nearly failing the course and having no other option to improve her grades?"

"Such is the fate of all students who cannot measure up to the material."

"But it's not right."

"Right or wrong, it is HER choice. Or do you think he is doing something underhanded to manipulate the situation?"

Turning my eyes to the wall, I gritted through my teeth, "I don't know."

"Because if he is NOT, if he is simply a horny man who likes sleeping with young girls ... then ... well ... that is an unfortunate reality of the world we live in. Pretty girls always have options. If YOU were about to fail his class, you would not have any choice but to fail and not get course credit. Your friend, on the other hand, has a choice. She might not like the choice, and she may very well choose to fail instead of take the alternative. But at least she HAS an alternative."

My eyes tracked back to Viktoriya's. "I don't like you very much right now."

She sighed and pursed her lips, standing up straight and folding her arms across her chest. "I am sorry to hear that."

"It's not right."

"It is what it is." She shrugged. "I did not put a gun to your head and tell you to sleep with me."

"My academic success didn't hinge on whether or not I accepted your seduction."

Viktoriya shrugged. "If she does not want to do it, then she does not want to do it. There are other girls who do not have such moral hesitations. I know for a fact that one of his other students currently makes frequent visits to his office – and to his home – and I am fairly certain she will get an 'A' for her efforts. She made her choice. It is not my place to interfere."

"But what if he IS coercing my friend? What then? If Rutledge is capable of adjusting her grades up without any traceability, of giving an 'A' where one isn't deserved, who's to say he's not adjusting her scores DOWN, precisely to put her in this position? Huh?"

Viktoriya pursed her lips and looked away. "It is ... possible ... But it would be quite difficult to prove."

But I was already thinking of a way. It would take help, and cooperation, but it was a possibility. "What if I could prove it? What then? Would you help me?"

"Benjamin ... Where are you going with this? Why? Do you care about this friend this much? Or is this really about Dawn?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe both. Maybe I just see something happening and it screams out wrong to me and I HAVE to fix it. If I have the ability, don't I have the responsibility to DO something?"

"The ability to effect change is NOT responsibility to do so. You have to live your OWN life as well."

"Then it comes back to self-interest," I retorted. "If I DON'T do something, I'm going to regret it. That regret will haunt me for the rest of my life. So I'm not doing this for her, I'm not doing it for Dawn. I'm doing it for ME. Something about Rutledge doesn't sit right with me. I FEEL it in my gut, and I've been feeling it all year. He isn't just another hunky professor hooking up with his students for casual affairs. There's something WRONG with the way this guy operates, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

"You are making this a personal vendetta."

"So what if I am? And why the hell do you keep defending the guy? Are you sweet on him or something?"

"Good heavens, no. The man is like slime. His eyes always follow me ... lingering ... I understand what you mean about feeling like something is wrong. But I am not one to point fingers where there is no evidence."

"I'll get you the evidence. Count on that. And when I do, I'm counting on your help. Fair enough?"

Viktoriya sighed. "Find evidence of his grade tampering. Then ... we shall see..."

Viktoriya gave me a surprising amount of information about the archaic Cal Berkeley grading software. It was simple math: each assignment was assigned a percentage value of the entire course, and both professors and T.A.'s could manually type in whatever score they wanted. I felt positive that the easiest way Rutledge could submarine Peyton's grade was through manipulating the computer: putting one score on Peyton's papers and a lower score into the program. But the only way of verifying whether or not the correct value was entered was to compare the computer score to the mark on the student's paper.

I found myself desperately hoping that Peyton kept all of her assignments and exams. But even if she did, we had no way of accessing the computer scores for a comparison. Short of a formal inquiry, only Professor Rutledge and Samantha Hitchcock could do that. We had no way of knowing the percentage weight of each homework assignment, or of each midterm. And so trying to estimate what overall score Peyton SHOULD have based on her written marks would be a very rough guess at best.

We ran out of time before I got my head wrapped around all the possibilities. Viktoriya had to get to class, and together we left her office. Moments later, Professor Rutledge stepped out of HIS office. He smiled warmly at us, but given everything we'd been discussing for the past half-hour, neither Viktoriya nor I was in the mood for polite greetings. Shaking my head, I simply turned my back to him and smiled to find that Viktoriya had followed my lead. We waited for about twenty seconds, and I then I turned around to find that he was gone.

"I'm going to track down some homework comparisons," I told her. "Can I have your cell number? I'll call you when I find something."

Viktoriya smirked. "All this time and you never got my 'digits'."

I smiled back, and she told me her number while I entered it into my contacts list. On impulse, I briefly stepped forward and gave her a hug. "Thanks. I don't think I've said that enough in the last couple of years. You've been such a big help to me, in more ways than one."

"It has been my pleasure, Benjamin." Viktoriya's eyebrows waggled suggestively at that.

I smiled and took off.

"Hey, I need a favor."

Bert and Sasha looked at me with raised eyebrows as they took their seats at our usual Thai joint, Sasha by my side and Bert across from us.

I looked at them both. "Please tell me you kept your assignments from Corporate Finance."

"Corporate Finance? Last semester?" Bert asked in surprise.

I nodded seriously.

"Uh, yeah ... I think so." Bert shrugged. "Probably in a box under my bed at home."

"Can you bring them to school tomorrow?"

"Uh sure ... What's going on?"

Sasha spoke up. "This is about Peyton, isn't it? You were helping her with Corporate Finance last night."

Bert frowned. "Peyton? I thought you weren't doing anything with her until Friday."

"I'm NOT. This isn't about sex. It's purely academic."

"So what, you need my homework to help her study? Really?"

I shook my head. "This isn't about studying. Come to think of it, okay maybe it IS about sex."

Sasha put her hand on mine. "Ben, you're not making any sense."

I sighed, wondering whether or not I should tell them about my suspicions regarding Rutledge's grading. Really, I had NO evidence, no reason to believe that he was falsifying her scores other than my gut feeling and the fact that Peyton was a gorgeous, desirable young female. It wasn't my nature to spread rumors about other people, no matter how much I disliked them. And really, what had Rutledge ever done to me personally? If it's a crime to think girls like Peyton and Dawn are hot and to be tempted should either of them get seductive, then I'm just as guilty as anyone.

But I couldn't shake this feeling. If I was wrong, I was wrong. But if I was right, then maybe I could save Peyton from the kind of decision she might regret for the rest of her life.

I hadn't saved Dawn. I didn't know Peyton very well, but maybe I could save her instead. As reasons go, it wasn't a very good one, but it was my motivation nonetheless.

Looking both Bert and Sasha in the eye, I said slowly, "I want to compare your homework, and mine, to Peyton's. I think – I don't know – that Rutledge is messing with her grades and putting her on the brink of failure, so that she'll have no choice but to sleep with him in order to pass."

Sasha jerked away, staring at me in horror. Bert's eyebrows went up in shock. "Are you sure?" he asked gruffly.

"No. Completely NOT sure. This is totally just a hunch. Peyton really is struggling, and she's had multiple meetings with him about her scores being low enough that she won't graduate. All three of us know he's a total letch, and I'm sure you've caught him checking you out, Sasha."

She blushed and nodded.

"But at the same time, she DOES actually know the material better than a student who should be failing. We went over almost everything for three hours last night, and she's not THAT far behind. I'm not the one in charge of grading, but I've seen her homework and the errors she's making aren't the kind that should be earning 50s and 60s. That's why I want to compare her scores to ours."

Sasha frowned. "But are the assignments even the same?"

I shrugged. "I haven't looked at my own yet. But it's the same textbook; some of the questions HAVE to be identical."

Sasha pursed her lips. "Okay then. All my papers from last semester are in my room. Let's go home and take a look."

-- WEDNESDAY, APRIL 5, 2006, SENIOR YEAR --

"I don't know. We're really splitting hairs here, and none of it's conclusive." Sasha shook her head and pointed to two papers, side-by-side. "Bert made the same mistake on this question last semester and got docked four points. Peyton got docked five. It's a difference, but how much of a difference?"

"It's a difference, period. This is the fifth discrepancy we've found on the last three assignments, and only half of the questions are even the same. There are probably twice as many places where Peyton's getting nicked a point or two more than we ever did. Never fewer point penalties, always more. That adds up."

"Fractionally," Sasha argued.

"It's the difference between a 71 and a 68 per assignment. That's the difference between a C-minus and a D-plus in the long run."

"For all we know, his grading has simply gotten a little harder since last semester," Bert pointed out. "We can't say anything for certain without being able to compare these scores to others currently in the class. Yeah, a lot of the questions are the same, but even though they're both fruit we're still comparing apples to oranges. And our midterms are completely useless. There's nothing identical to compare."

"So we need to get more apples."

Sasha gasped. "Get homework and midterms from Peyton's current class?"

Bert snorted. "Do we even know anyone else in Peyton's class?"

"They're almost all UGBA students. Yeah, we do."

"Casually. Like acquaintances. Do we know them well enough to ask them to turn over their homework just so we can compare them to Peyton's? Yeah, like Rutledge isn't going to find out about that. Be serious, dude." Bert gave me an apologetic shrug. "Even if we could find a few discrepancies, I don't think it's enough to file a formal complaint."

"Really guys..." Peyton spoke up from behind us. The four of us were in the sitting area of my bedroom for privacy, but even still the Tri-Delt President looked distinctly uncomfortable with what was going on. "Let's just drop the whole thing, okay?"

I glanced back at her. "What, you don't want to find out if Rutledge has been screwing you over?"

With a pained expression, she folded her arms and paced by the door. "It's just ... I agreed to let you see if there was anything fishy going on. But like Sasha said, there's nothing conclusive. And I'd rather this not blow up into a big mess."

"We've just barely started looking."

"But you're probably not going to find anything. I really AM struggling in the class." Peyton sighed and gestured to my friends. "It's bad enough you brought them into this."

I glanced over at Bert and Sasha. "They're my friends. You can trust them."

"They're not MY friends. Fuck, YOU'RE not even my friend. I don't know why I'm letting you all go through my papers like this. It's embarrassing that other people know how badly I'm doing in this class."

"So what? You just give in?" I glared at her. "Walk up and give him what he wants? Bend over for a grade?"

Peyton glared back at me. "At least that would have been private. Just between me and him. I don't want half the campus to know I'm failing."

"Better your private shame than public embarrassment? Huh?"

She pouted. "Something like that."

I stood up and stalked over to her. "What happened to the strong young woman who barged into my house weeks ago and ordered her froshlings to stay in my house? What happened to your pride, your self-esteem? What happened to the woman who would never let a MAN get the best of her, huh?"

A couple of tears rolled down Peyton's cheeks. "I can't not graduate."

"And I can't let you sleep with him."

"That's my decision to make."

"Well it's the WRONG decision."

Peyton shook her head. "I don't WANT to do it."

"Then don't! I'm not done yet. Something's wrong with that man, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

"Why? Why are you so adamant? Why are you working so hard ... for me? We barely know each other. You don't even LIKE me."

"I'm not doing it for you."

"Then what? This is some sort of charity job? Trying to protect the damsel in distress out of the goodness of your heart?"

I shrugged. "I don't like seeing a woman get taken advantage of."

"Says the guy keeping an entire harem of my sorority sisters in his house to be his fuck toys!"

I wheeled over to Peyton, moving up into her personal space and glaring down at her from only inches away. Jerking my arm, I pointed at the door and growled harshly, "You walk downstairs and ask any of those girls whether they want to be here or not. You ask THEM if I'm taking advantage of them. I'M not the one who ordered five 18-year-olds to stay here for all of Spring Break just in case a strange guy wanted to seize and inseminate them. Those girls downstairs stood by and let YOU give that order because they KNEW ... they KNEW ... that I would never hurt any of them. Nobody is being coerced into being here. NOBODY is being forced to do anything they're not comfortable with. Don't you ever ... EVER ... insinuate that I am ANYTHING like Henry Rutledge, do you understand?!?"

Her eyes wide with fright at my tone and demeanor, Peyton nodded hurriedly.

Only now did I recognize that despite my insistence of not being a monster, I was still scaring her. I backed up quickly and shook my head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten up in your face," I apologized with a wince.

Peyton pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest again, more or less hugging herself. She didn't look me in the eyes, but she nodded and replied, "It's okay."

"Really ... I'm sorry," I repeated in a much more apologetic tone.

Peyton picked her head up, now studying my face with a strange expression, as if she was seeing me for the first time. "You know, I had it all wrong about you. I thought you were this charming lothario, a Casanova who happened to be really, really good at sex and at making a girl's world turn upside-down. Well you are, but there's a lot more to you than that. I think only now do I get why all those girls downstairs stick around this house, even though none of them are your girlfriends. You're something else. You're something special."

I blushed in embarrassment, not expecting that kind of praise from Peyton.

Chuckling, the pretty dirty-blonde shook her head as if she couldn't believe she'd said it either. Moving over to the door, she grabbed the handle and looked back at me. "Do what you need to do. I really hope you find something. And... thank you for doing this for me. You really don't have to, but thank you for trying. Not many people in this world would do so much for me."

I blinked, surprised again at what she'd said. But then Peyton opened the door and left.

"So that's it. Midterms are a wash. Nothing comparable." Bert sighed as the three of us walked up the hill toward class. "And the homework grading, while harsh, isn't completely out of bounds. We're out of luck. There's nothing concrete."

"I finished calculating all three of our grades from last semester," Sasha added. "It doesn't necessarily mean Rutledge is assigning the same percentage values to all assignments this semester as he did last semester, but at least it's something to start with."

"And?" I asked. "Did you have time to run them against Peyton's scores?"

Sasha nodded. "I did. Combined with her two midterms, everything grades out to a 69. She's Econ major, and this counts as an elective major. She needs a 70 to get credit for the course, and without these credits, she doesn't graduate. 69 is borderline, and she could still pull herself out, but she's definitely in the danger zone. The third midterm is a killer, if you'll remember, not to mention the final.

I frowned. "So what? Maybe the best course of action is just to help her study and make sure she gets above 70?"

"She's not far off," Bert chimed in. "It's doable, and definitely without resorting to any Mission: Impossible-style hacking into the computer database. If she aces next week's midterm, she'll be in the clear. No need to ... ahem ... get extra credit."

I sighed. "Okay then. Rutledge still smells like a rat to me, but this sounds like a plan."

-- THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 2006, SENIOR YEAR --

I felt something tickle my balls; and with a start, I jerked awake.

"Mmph!" a girl moaned and I realized I'd just shoved my dick an inch into somebody's throat. She took it like a trouper, gagging only slightly and keeping her head down, breathing heavily through her nose until I pulled back. And then she resumed rhythmically pumping my shaft in her hands and sucking on the mushroom head as if I'd never interrupted her.

My eyes fluttered for a brief second, giving me just enough time to see the bottle-blonde head bobbing up and down in my lap before my heavy eyelids closed themselves. I was tired, like really-really tired. But for once my weariness was not the result of excessive sex.

Oh, I was still having sex. Despite all this Rutledge drama, college life went on. I still had classes, and my house was still occupied at all hours of the day by horny Tri-Delts. Sex was a great way of unwinding after a stressful day, for me and for the girls. It was why most of them stuck around, to get that itch scratched without dating hassles or relationship drama. If one of them wanted a good orgasm, no questions asked, I was around. And there were enough of them that somebody was always ready and willing whenever -I- got an itch.

Plus, it was really nice to have that ready and willing distraction after my latest futile attempt to contact Kim. She still wouldn't answer my calls or texts, and while Bert WAS in contact with her to reassure me that she was alive and well (and similarly tell HER that -I- wished her well), he never had anything really hopeful to tell me.

Thank goodness Andie was such an eager mood-changer.

But for this morning at least, my weariness wasn't about Kim or my schoolwork, and had everything to do with Rutledge-drama. Tutoring and helping Peyton with her homework was the equivalent of adding an entire class to my schedule, even more so because it took me much less time to complete my own assignments. But even besides mundane busywork, I found myself... thinking ... about the situation far more than was really healthy.

I wondered if Rutledge really was conducting some underhanded score manipulation to coerce coeds into putting out for him.

I wondered if he really was aboveboard, accepting opportunities as they presented themselves but not really doing anything nefarious.

And I wondered about what REALLY happened between him and Dawn. I wanted to believe she'd been 100% truthful, but even she could have been misled. If Rutledge had fucked around with Peyton's grades, he certainly could have done so with Dawn's. And if Dawn HADN'T had so much trouble with her Finance class ... well ... would she still be my girlfriend right now?

There were other factors in play, of course, and even if Dawn had gotten straight A's, the causes of our breakup ran far deeper; but it was still something to chew on. Those are two of the worst, most harrowing words in the English language: What. If?

But these were the thoughts of yesterday and of last night. For as much as these ruminations had dominated my attention then, I really wasn't thinking about them now. My schlong was nearly eight inches up a pretty girl's throat, you see, and it's hard to really feel bad about your life in a situation like that.

Working her throat muscles for a moment, Andie Holland massaged my prick before pulling off and turning those sweet brown eyes up to me. Realizing I was awake, she giggled and pecked my cockhead briefly before smiling and saying, "Good morning, sleepyhead. You must be pretty worn out. I've been doing this for like five minutes."

"It hasn't been FIVE minutes," Jamie Miano drawled from beside my head. She was propped up on one elbow, a finger tracing my face almost absentmindedly while she looked down at me. "But you were definitely doing a good job of relaxing him. His face was all stern and glowery right before you started blowing him. And then he got all smiley and content, even in his sleep."

I frowned. "'Glowery': Is that a word?"

"It is now," Jamie replied with a laugh. She then head-nodded back toward Andie and said, "Work him up and then climb on. You can go first this morning."

Andie stroked my cock with one hand and frowned. "I went first last night."

"Yeah, but I finished last night. You go ahead. I'm in the mood to have these puppies suckled." With that, Jamie pulled down the cups of her babydoll nightie and rolled forward to smother my face in her D-cup melons. I immediately began suckling, just like she wanted.

Meanwhile, Andie resumed deep-throating me, gagging herself once or twice before pronouncing me good and hard, and then she climbed aboard to go for a ride. The petite bottle-blonde was superwet and supertight around me, plus she really knew how to clench her inner muscles like a third hand, and she had my lower body in absolute heaven.

As for my upper half, I suckled away on Jamie's big titties to my heart's content, reaching up with my hands to squeeze them against my cheeks before sliding a hand down and inside Jamie's panties. I fingered her for a bit before slapping her thighs and telling her to climb onto my face. She did so, facing back toward Andie, and I spent the next five minutes bucking my hips and licking pussy while my two favorite Tri-Delts kissed and pawed at each other.

Eventually, both climaxed and they wanted to swap places, but I had a different idea and I had Jamie lay back and then parked Andie on top of her, face-to-face and tit-to-tit. I then pounded both girls, switching back and forth between pussies while they continued making out with each other. And when I finally reached my own orgasm, I rolled Andie out of the way and blasted my load all over Jamie's tits and face.

While Andie busied herself licking it all up, Jamie cocked an eyebrow at me and asked, "Time for one more?"

I looked at the clock and sighed. It was now too late for me to drop my morning Tuesday/Thursday class, and I had a relatively busy day ahead of me. Then again... "Yeah, as long as we can make it fast."

Quickly, Jamie and Andie pushed me so that I was sitting up against the headboard. They knelt to either side of me, brushing their bangs behind their ears while looming over my half-hard prick. Jamie took the first lick, and then backed away. Andie surrounded the head, suckling for a moment before SHE backed away. And then after exchanging a look, both girls moved in on opposite sides and each took a long lick along my shaft from base to tip, meeting at the top and then kissing each other with lots of tongue and my cockhead trapped between their mouths.

Andie grinned at me. "Yeah, we can make it fast."

Sasha and I made the final turn for the house and I whistled, idly wondering who would be home. More to the point: I wondered which random harem girl (or girls) would be pretending to study in the living room when she was really just waiting for me to come home so she could talk me into seizing and inseminating her. Ever since Andie, Jamie, and Sasha had become permanent fixtures in my bedroom each night, the three of them usually confined their activities with me to just before bed or after we woke up. Middle-afternoons were "harem" time. Yesterday it had been Leticia and Jeannie. The day before had been the Schenke twins. And today? Well, I'd soon find out.

But it wasn't a harem girl who attacked me today. Sasha and I walked in the door and down the hallway. By habit, we usually waved hello to whoever was in the living room before heading upstairs to drop off our bags and wash up. But I was still mid-wave to Jocelyn, Tonya, and Lupe at the dining table when a blur of motion to my left caught me by surprise. I barely had time to turn and open my arms before a girl launched herself into the air at me, and I staggered under the impact while reflexively grabbing onto her ass for support.

And then her tongue was in my mouth. Peyton Kent's tongue was in my mouth. By now my eyesight had adjusted enough to recognize the Tri-Delt President, although her green eyes were currently closed as she concentrated on giving me the liplock of a lifetime. I was kissing back, more out of reflex than anything, but I was also fighting not to drop her since I hadn't gotten the best grip on her body when she'd leaped at me.

No matter. When Peyton felt herself sliding, she hooked her feet around my calves and kept herself suspended. Her arms bear hugged my head so that I wouldn't have been able to break the kiss even if I tried, and the passion of her embrace soon won over my surprise as I surrendered to the pleasantness and began to seriously kiss her back.

"Mmmm..." Peyton moaned into our liplock, her eyes now fluttering open before she pulled back, gasped for air, and then kissed me once again. And this time I let myself openly fondle her dynamite ass while enjoying the fervor of an excited woman.

Eventually, though, she broke away. I started to release her, and she set her feet onto the floor before grinning at me sheepishly and pulling her hair back behind her ears. "Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize," I replied before looking around to find all of the other girls in the room, including Sasha, grinning at us. "What brought that on?"

Peyton beamed, the obvious exuberance on her face making her look years younger. She was the kind of woman who never would have been able to pull off the "innocent" look. She was just too obviously curvy and her face too angularly sexy to do it, but for a few brief moments right now she really looked as happy and as soft as a little girl. "I got my homework back. 98!"

I frowned and arched an eyebrow. "What the hell did he deduct two points for? I thought we had that assignment down perfectly!"

"I don't know! I don't even care! Ninety-EIGHT!" Peyton grabbed me and kissed me again, but this one was a short kiss.

"Hey, hey!" I chuckled when she pulled away again. "I'm happy for you."

"I owe it all to you. I don't know how I could ever thank you enough."

"Don't thank me yet. It was just one homework assignment. Really, homework scores don't count for all that much. Like ninety percent of your grade is all in the four big exams. You're not out of the woods yet."

"But I just KNOW I'm going to do so much better on this next midterm. I KNOW it!"

"I really hope so. But helping you finish a homework assignment is one thing. Getting you to the point where you can ace a midterm without me by your side is completely different."

"But I'm getting there. Thanks to you, I'm getting there." Peyton kissed me again, and this one was NOT a short kiss. In fact, it was a full minute before she pulled back, gasping for air. And still holding me close, she whispered from only inches away, "Think I can get an advance on tomorrow night's date? You have NO idea how horny I am for you right now."

I chuckled but held two fingers up against her lips, effectively stopping her. "All good things come to those who wait."

-- FRIDAY, APRIL 7, 2006, SENIOR YEAR --

"So tonight's the big night, huh? Peyton's gonna reward you for all the extra help you've given her?" We'd just finished Isakova's class, and Bert was packing up his bag.

I shook my head. "It's just a date. There isn't even any guarantee she's going to put out at the end of the night."

Sasha snorted. "Are you kidding me? (A) Peyton has been craving a Big Ben Experience ever since she broke up with her boyfriend and (B) She's made it quite clear to everyone in that house, even Andie and Jamie, that they'd better stay the fuck away from your bedroom tonight because she's had a full week's worth of pent-up frustration to take out on you."

I chuckled. "Maybe I should screw around with her a bit more, tell her she's going to have to wait another week, and take YOU out on a date tonight."

Sasha held her hands up immediately. "NO thank you. I'd like to keep my heart beating and in my chest, not torn out and put on a stake out in the backyard. Seriously, I think Peyton just might do it if I took you away from her tonight. I got my royal fucking last night and this morning. I'm good. You'll just have to tell me how it goes tomorrow."

"Actually, I was thinking about bringing Peyton by the club tonight. You can do us both in a back room."

Sasha shoved me and shook her head. "You'd better not."

"C'mon. I've got all the power over her right now. You know I could make her eat you out for hours."

"Heart. Stake. Backyard," Sasha deadpanned.

I laughed and all three of us got up. But before we could leave, our professor called to me from behind. "Benjamin? Could you please wait a moment?"

The three of us turned around to see Viktoriya engaged in conversation with a couple of students at the front of the class, but her hand was still gesturing for me to stick around. I shrugged and looked at my friends.

"We'll wait for you," Bert suggested.

I nodded, but Viktoriya looked over to us once more and found that my friends weren't leaving me. "Robert. Sasha. This will actually take some time. I'm sure Benjamin will see you later."

That got more shrugs, but Bert said, "Must be pretty important. Guess we'd better go. Walk you to the BART station, Sasha?"

She nodded and then leaned over to hug me and peck my cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

I nodded and bumped fists with Bert. He then crooked his elbow and Sasha looped her arm through his. And together the two of them left the class.

Moments later, so did the remaining two students. Only then did I approach my professor. "What's up?" I asked.

With typical Professor Ice curtness, she commanded, "Follow me." And then she strode directly up the aisle.

I wondered to myself, 'How the hell did -I- ever become that woman's "Master"?'

Simple. You never really were.

Chuckling to myself, I followed obediently, hurrying until I'd caught up with her. She didn't say anything, but it was obvious we were heading up to her office. A minute later, she opened her door, ushered me inside, and closed the door behind us.

My eyes flew open in shock. There, seated at the conference table, was Samantha Hitchcock.

Viktoriya stepped over and gestured between us by way of introduction. "Samantha, Ben. Ben, Samantha."

I leaned forward, extending a hand. Samantha shook it and sat back. We of course already knew who each other was, but I couldn't recall a single conversation between me and her that wasn't about one of Rutledge's classes or summer projects. Samantha was about 5'8" and slender, with long blonde hair. She was pretty, but not overly built or exceptionally sexy. I'd noticed her and found her attractive, but I'd always associated her in my head with Professor Rutledge and it wasn't the sort of association that made me think highly of her.

On the other hand, she more than anyone else on this campus would know about Rutledge's secrets, and she was right here, right now. I sensed an opportunity.

Viktoriya spoke up first. "You once asked me whether or not I knew for sure that Henry Rutledge traded grades for sex. I told you I was sure, but that I would not reveal my source."

With raised eyebrows, I gestured at Samantha.

Viktoriya merely nodded. "There's more," she added. And then she stepped back and looked expectantly at Rutledge's T.A.

Samantha took a deep breath and bit her lip. She was clearly uneasy, and she wouldn't look either of us in the eye. She fiddled with her fingers, nervously picking at her nails. But then she closed her eyes and said, "You're not going to like hearing this."

It was late when I got back to the house, and dinner had already started. The plan had been for me to collect Peyton from the Tri-Delt Chapter House on Warring Street at 6pm, take her out to dinner, and then see where the evening took us, but that plan wasn't happening anymore.

I'd texted her from Viktoriya's office, saying: Sorry. Have to cancel date. Can't talk now but I'll call you as soon as I can.

She'd texted me back right away, asking what was going on, but I was still in discussions with Viktoriya and Samantha and didn't have time to explain. My text message had already promised that I'd call her as soon as I could, and she'd just have to wait until I had everything organized in my head.

But she didn't wait for my call. Clearly waiting for me, and with Andie keeping her company, Peyton was on my front porch when I made the final turn for the house and came down the sidewalk. My heart would have fallen into the pit of my stomach to see her standing there looking so forlorn at the cancellation of our date, only the rock was already down there to begin with. I hopped up the porch steps while she stood back, eyes on me expectantly and her arms crossed over her chest, more or less hugging herself. She wore a pretty red cocktail dress, complete with pumps and tasteful jewelry. She was wearing a coat over the top of it to ward away the evening cold, but it was draped over her shoulders and her arms were not in the sleeves. Even with such a worried expression, she was quite pretty to look at.

"Hey," I began casually. "You look great."

"What's happened?" she asked rather bluntly. "Please tell me you're not cancelling because you don't want to go out with me, or that you're just screwing with me and making me wait another week before we can go out."

"What? Gawd no," I replied immediately, taking hold of her waist and bringing her closer to me. I leaned in, pecked her lips, and then gave her a serious expression. "Something's come up. Something ... private."

That last part was directed at Andie. My pretty bottle-blonde paramour looked hurt at being left out of the loop, but I gave her an apologetic expression. "It's got nothing to do with you, cutie. Okay? Why don't you go join the others. Thanks for keeping her company, but Peyton and I need to talk."

Andie pouted, but then stepped forward and hugged me while pressing her lips to mine. I returned her kiss, patted her ass, and then sent her on her way. Then, looking past Peyton's shoulder, I asked, "How many of them are in there?"

"Half-dozen or so. Andie, Jamie, Kirstie, the Schenkes. One or two more were in the kitchen, but I only popped my head in long enough to see if you were home or not."

I nodded. "Friday night dates or boyfriends for a lot of the others, or a girlfriend in Nora's case."

"Tonight was supposed to be OUR Friday night date. Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this? How antsy I've been all week waiting for this? I swear, if I wasn't so in love with you I'd be really, really mad right now."

I blinked in surprise as my head rocked back. "Whoa, hold up. In love with me?"

Peyton sighed and began to step away, but I caught her waist and tugged her back in front of me.

Once I had my arms around her waist, I gave her a serious look and asked again, "In love with me?"

"Well, falling for you at least." She shrugged. "At first it was just a physical craving. We were flirting and sparring and each trying to get the upper hand. I just wanted to nail you, and to do it on my own terms. But you won that little battle and as long as I got the Big Ben Experience I craved, I told myself I'd be okay with it. But now everything's starting to change. You're unlike any guy I've ever met. You've got the whole world at the tip of your fingers. You're smart and hot and--"

"Wait, wait. You think I'm 'hot'?" I interrupted. "Don't think I've ever thought of myself as 'hot' before."

Peyton snorted. "Then you must not look in the mirror much. You think all these girls hang out around here because you're plain-looking?"

"Well..."

She shook her head. "And that's the other thing. You've got all of these girls just throwing themselves at you all day every day. I know these girls. I know how competitive they can be, especially with each other. But somehow you manage the fragile egos and clingy neediness and keep them all satisfied. I don't know how you do it."

"Uh ... never really thought about it before."

She rolled her eyes. "Andie's in love with you. Sasha's in love with you. All of the rest of them could be in love with you, only they know you don't share the same depth of feelings for them. And yet they're happy with what they get from you and don't fight with each other about it, and that's amazing."

I blinked. "Hey, I'm as glad as anyone else that the girls get along."

"And despite ALL that, even though you've been managing ALL of them, not to mention your own classes and friends and everything else going on in your life, you dedicate this HUGE chunk of time to helping me. ME. You don't even KNOW me, but you do this all for me. And for what? To get into my panties? You could have done that last week. But no, you don't have me kneeling and fishing your cock out through your zipper at your slightest whim. You sit down at the coffee table and patiently explain Decision Tree Analysis and Monte Carlo methods for two hours every night. Lupe is hanging out behind the couch bending over and trying to get you to stare at her tits, practically begging for permission to wrap her knockers around your erection and stroke you until you explode in her face, but you're sitting there teaching ME. Ever stop to think how special that might make me feel? How I already want you to fuck me but now ... now I want you to DATE me?"

"Uh ... no ... No I hadn't stopped to think about that."

"Well, that's a relief. Guess you aren't perfect."

"Perfect? Ha. I'm furthest from."

"No ... a slimy pervert like Professor Rutledge is 'furthest from'. You?" Peyton pressed herself forward, so that our bodies touched from chest all the way down to our toes. "You are amazing."

And then she kissed me.

I lost track of time for a moment. I don't know how to compare a kiss like that to something volcanic or nuclear or explosive or whatever. All I'm saying is that for a little while, I forgot my own name, and I certainly forgot why I'd cancelled tonight's date. Peyton kissed me like she wanted to crawl inside my body and inhabit it solely for the ability to directly control how much pleasure she gave me, and when consciousness returned to me I found that I'd picked her up and shoved her against the wall while her legs wrapped around my waist.

"Fuck this," I growled, panting for breath and pressing my pelvis forward to keep her pinned against the wall. "Let's go on our date."

"Fuck the date," Peyton gasped even more out of breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared back at me with glittering emerald eyes. "Let's go upstairs and FUCK."

It was tempting, and I nearly took her up on the offer. But just then my stupid brain decided to wake back up and remind me of where I'd come from and who I'd just talked to. And squeezing my eyes shut and grimacing in momentary anguish, I barked out a loud, "Fuck!" and then stepped back, setting Peyton down on her feet and turning away from her.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Peyton asked.

Rubbing my jaw, I sighed and turned back to her. Shaking my head mournfully, I replied, "It's why I cancelled our date in the first place. You have to know I'd never do this just to screw around with you. But I literally just walked out of Professor Isakova's office right now, and we were talking to Samantha Hitchcock."

Peyton's eyebrows rose. "Samantha? My T.A.?"

I nodded and then told her what Samantha had just told us. "Rutledge IS screwing with your grades."

A lot more had been said in Viktoriya's office than just Rutledge falsifying Peyton's grades. Samantha was in full confession mode, and she told us a lot more than we probably needed to know. Not that Viktoriya or I told her to stop or anything. We soaked up everything like it was the most engrossing soap opera on TV.

Samantha told us about Casey McCahill, about how the girl wasn't even bothering to turn in her homework or write more than her name on her exams. She told us about the threesomes at Rutledge's house, and even her own forays into lesbian contact before pulling back. She told us about how in love she'd been with the man for nearly three years, never truly seeing what kind of monster he could be. And it was only when she found herself being pushed aside in favor of a younger, bigger-boobed coed slut that she finally opened her eyes and realized what was really going on.

Despite Viktoriya's animosity toward Rutledge, she had always been friendly to Samantha. As Kim and I had already seen, Viktoriya tended to let her hair down outside of the classroom and within the friendly confines of the Cheit Hall offices. She and Samantha ran into each other frequently each day, whether getting coffee or just chatting in passing down the halls. The "Professor Ice" persona she kept up in front of undergrads didn't apply. Also, both women were fully aware of each other's less than platonic activities that technically violated the school's policies, and this knowledge in a sense had made them co-conspirators with a certain level of understanding and trust.

Even though Viktoriya had charged me with finding evidence that "my friend's" grades had been tampered with, she had taken it upon herself to ask Samantha whether or not Rutledge was doing anything underhanded in order to manipulate a student into a bad situation. Viktoriya didn't specify Peyton's name; she didn't even know it was Peyton I was talking about. At first, Samantha had outright rejected the notion. While he wasn't above accepting the proposals of a pretty coed coming on to him, the man she was in love with wouldn't do such an unfathomably odious thing.

But her initial rejection turned to doubt later that evening. Doubt turned into curiosity. And curiosity turned into research. Rutledge, unlike many professors, preferred to do most of his own grading. He certainly graded all of the midterms by himself, so without having a student's papers in hand, Samantha couldn't compare anyone's recorded grade with the number at the top of their page. But while Rutledge did the grading, he had Samantha complete the data entry of putting each score into the computer system. Samantha did so, but she also recorded all grades on paper. It wasn't something she'd been told to do; she simply did it to have a backup. And when she went into the computer system to check the numbers she'd entered against the numbers the system currently showed, she found that the grades of a select few students had been "improved".

No big surprise, there. She'd always known Casey McCahill's grades were a complete fabrication. She also wasn't surprised to see a few other grade enhancements, although she didn't tell Viktoriya or me who those students were. She was, however, shocked to find a single student whose grades had been consistently downgraded, and the horror of this discovery had sent her straight to Viktoriya to ask specifically why she had asked about negative grade tampering and specifically whom.

Viktoriya didn't know; I'd never told her Peyton's name. But she asked Samantha whether she'd found multiple students being surreptitiously downgraded or if it was just one. When she found out it was just one, she arranged for Samantha to meet in her office after class, and then she brought in me.

So I'd volunteered Peyton's name. Samantha confirmed that she was the student being downgraded. And Viktoriya swore bloody murder.

"But can we move forward with this?" I'd asked. "Do you have enough evidence to go to the department and get Rutledge's ass handed to him?"

We turned to Samantha, and she blanched. "I don't know. All I have are my own notes as to what grades I entered into the system."

Viktoriya shook her head. "It is something, but since your notes are not an official document, Henry can argue against their validity. I think the consistency of it is certainly alarming, especially since it shows that only one student has been downgraded. But I would urge that we do not do anything rash. Samantha, if you are willing, I think you should dig deeper and see if you can perhaps find more evidence of his misbehavior. This whole thing has the potential to be a grave scandal, and our names will likely be dragged through it. The semester is far from over. Let us be patient."

I didn't really want to be patient. "And what? Give Rutledge the chance to cover his tracks and get off scot free? I don't think so."

Viktoriya shook her head. "Patience, Benjamin. I do not believe he has any idea that we know."

"If Samantha goes poking around his records, he may well figure it out."

"I'll be careful," Samantha promised. "But really, there's not much else I can do. The computer system is pretty basic. It doesn't track or record when alterations are made. Stupid, I know. All I could maybe do is print out screen shots so we have a dated record of what scores are in there right now, just in case he tries to tweak them later to cover himself up. But still, that only shows grade tampering. I don't know how you prove he's doing it to force a student into having sex with him."

Viktoriya nodded. "Really, what we need is some way to catch him in the act."

My head shot up. "What, you mean like getting it on tape?"

The girls both looked at me. Viktoriya sighed and said, "Pretty much."

I didn't tell Peyton everything. The details about Samantha's involvement with Rutledge, for example, weren't relevant. The stuff about Casey or any other students, also, she didn't need to know. For right now, the important thing for Peyton to understand was that Rutledge indeed had submarined her marks for the express purpose of putting her in a position to be subject to his sexual predations, and that Professor Isakova, Samantha, and I were trying to figure out a way to get him busted for it.

"If you know, then can't you just go to the ... uh... somebody and tell on him?!?" Peyton lashed out angrily. "Campus police? The authorities?"

"We can't go to the cops. He hasn't done anything criminal yet."

"What, falsifying my grades so he can have sex with me isn't a crime?!?"

"Well since you haven't actually had sex with him, no, it's not a legal crime ... I think ... The point is: it's a school matter so far, and one that's a little hard for us to prove." I explained about the lack of concrete evidence, or at least the lack of better evidence. I also stressed what Viktoriya had told me about it being a long semester and having patience. "Look, I know you're angry right now for what he's been doing to you--"

"I feel violated," Peyton barked harshly.

I nodded and stroked her arm to help calm her. "And you probably would like nothing better than for me to drive out to his house with a baseball bat and a pair of those Korean barbecue scissors they use to cut short ribs so I could bash his head in and then snip off his testicles."

That actually brought out a smile. Peyton beamed up at me for a moment and said, "You'd do that for me?"

I chuckled and nodded firmly. "But what we really want to do is nail him to the floor with solid evidence and make sure the rat bastard never teaches again. And for that, we need to be patient, alright? You have to know that we're on your side, know that we're working on a solution, and know that we're not going to let him screw you over like this. You're going to graduate on time. You DON'T have to sleep with him. We know the truth, the worst part is over, and you are NOT alone. You got that?"

She got it. She didn't like having to be patient, and she was rather fond of the Korean BBQ scissors idea, but she got it. Peyton wound up stepping forward into my arms, cuddling herself against my chest while I stroked her back. And once she managed to calm down, she pushed her nose into the crook of my neck and asked, "So what now? What happens next?"

I sighed and squeezed her a little tighter. "This part you're not going to like."

Peyton tensed up and pulled back far enough to look up at me. "What?"

I gave her an apologetic look and said, "You have to get him to confess on tape."

-- SATURDAY, APRIL 8, 2006, SENIOR YEAR --

I awoke with my usual morning hard-on. My eyes were still closed, but I felt a woman's presence against my chest, and a wave of pure bliss spread across my body. Hey, I LIKE waking up with someone.

Such had been my life for some time now. I really couldn't remember the last time I'd woken up in bed alone. For the past couple of weeks, Andie, Jamie, and Sasha had been my constant bedtime companions. Before that, the Tri-Delt harem rotated in and out. There was also Kim and Adrienne, not to mention the "dates" with Casey, Carolyn, and Chevelle. And of course before then had been my relationship and engagement to DJ. For a year that had started off with me learning how to "be alone" and not sleep with anyone overnight, I'd certainly been doing a lot of catching up.

The morning air was cold against my right cheek, the pillow reassuringly warm against my left. I snuggled deeper into the covers and their cocooning heat while pressing my chest against her back, covered only by a thin layer of cotton. As my senses came alive, the fingers of my left hand reflexively squeezed the large breast I was currently palming as my left arm snaked beneath her pillow to hold her from the opposite side. My right hand firmed up over her hip, gently holding her in place while I reflexively ground my erection into her panty-covered ass.

Just another morning, the way things should always be. Just me and my current paramour, although I hadn't woken up quite enough just yet to remember who she was. No matter. I was fond of all my girls, and with my eyes still closed, I expressed that fondness by squeezing her just a little tighter, a hug of affection.

Of course, the morning being morning, pleasant affection soon gave way to primal lust. My wood had found itself lodged in the cleft of her butt cheeks, and I found myself instinctively dry humping her ass to get that pleasant friction. Full memories had yet not entered my brain, but the sexual creature inside was awake enough to tell me that I had NOT had sex last night, a truly heartbreaking thing to realize. And now knowing it had been nearly 24 full hours since the last time I got off, I began the process of rectifying my unfortunate condition.

My hand firmed up around her left breast. I pressed my head forward to push my nose into her hair, smelling her sweet fragrance. I exhaled softly, tickling the back of her neck before touching my lips to it, causing a shiver to run up and down her body.

She moaned as she began to come awake. I slid my right hand up from her hip, gliding my fingers along her skin and underneath her night shirt so that I could palm her right breast as well. And gripping both round boobs, I put a little more effort into dry humping her ass, feeling the crease of her buttocks fold my own shorts around my rod.

"Ben," Peyton said quietly.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, still not fully awake just yet. But as her voice made its way into my brain, I froze completely. Both of my hands were still clamped around the bare globes of her breasts. My cock was still pressed into her ass crack. And my eyes remained tightly shut.

Oh, shit!

There had been a reason I didn't get off last night. Oh, Friday nights were Andie/Jamie nights, and both girls were ready and willing. Hell, we'd even started to have sex in the shower when the girls decided to be my personal loofahs. But while I'd fucked both my little "cutie" and my curvy "lovely" to orgasm, I'd been saving my spunk for the bedtime to follow.

See, Peyton had stayed at the house through dinner. The harem girls didn't know why our date had been cancelled, but they didn't press us. Peyton was visibly shaken and the girls readily invited us to join them. But after dinner, Peyton decided to go back to the Tri-Delt Chapter House and recalled Annette and Natalee from their own dates, giving them her version of a Code Red alert to drop everything and come talk to their best friend.

Only then did the harem girls start pressing me for answers, but I wouldn't give them any. The matter was private between me and Peyton, and that was that. I wasn't in the mood for playing around, and everyone but Andie and Jamie went home as well. And then my two remaining "favorites" dragged me into the shower to try and cheer me up.

We were going from the shower into my bedroom when the doorbell rang. At first, Jamie urged me to ignore it as she physically dragged me by the hand into my room, and I was inclined to agree since, like I said, I hadn't gotten off yet. But then my phone started ringing, Andie crossed to my desk to check it out, and she informed me of the name on the display.

Peyton was standing on my front porch and I quickly threw on some pajama pants and went downstairs to open the door. She was distraught and flung herself into my arms. Even though we'd come to some resolution about how to handle the situation, and even though she believed she was no longer under any pressure to capitulate to Rutledge's predations, the matter still wasn't yet resolved and she couldn't shake the feeling of being violated by what he'd done so far.

"Every time I close my eyes I think about the way he would always undress me with his eyes," she whimpered. "The thought makes my skin crawl, and I just started shaking."

I held Peyton tight in my arms, stroking and soothing and shushing her. Eventually, she stopped trembling, and only then did we realize we had an audience. Andie and Jamie were standing in the hallway just behind us, having heard just about everything. We noticed that Peyton was dressed for bed in a cute pink pajama set, having only thrown a jacket over the top before rushing over here. And it was Jamie who suggested that Peyton spend the night with me.

"You'll feel safe in his arms," Jamie reasoned. "I always do."

Andie pouted briefly, but nodded her agreement. And so the two of them bunked together in one of the downstairs bedrooms, leaving Peyton and me to go upstairs alone. We didn't go to bed right away. We started on the chairs in the sitting area, talking out the situation. She'd shared some of the details with Annette and Natalee, and the three of them had collectively come up with more questions that I now did my best to answer. We still didn't know exactly how to worm a confession out of Rutledge and get it on tape, but my best idea was for Peyton to ace her upcoming midterm, wait for him to unfairly mark it down, and then wait for him to arrange a private meeting. With her overall grade still in the sixties with only the final exam remaining to significantly improve her grade, she would theoretically be at her most vulnerable. He would press her with innuendoes and vague suggestions, and the hope was that if she pretended to go along with him, she might be able to elicit a damning comment or two and get it on tape.

We hoped.

Getting a confession was no guarantee. The burden was all on Peyton to talk him into one. And since the midterm wasn't until Tuesday, and her scores wouldn't come back until Thursday, it seemed likely she wouldn't get a private meeting until Friday at the earliest, a full seven days away.

She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep it together that long, and I didn't blame her. It was a lot to deal with.

But we were going to try, and I reassured her that I was on her side. She'd started crying again, and I'd pulled her into my arms. And in the end, she'd fallen asleep right there in my lap.

I held her for about ten minutes before carrying her into my bed. For a moment, I thought about going downstairs to join Andie and Jamie, or even going to sleep in Sasha's room and having her join me when she got back from work. But I decided that I didn't want Peyton to wake up alone and possibly freak out, not right after I'd spent the previous half-hour reassuring her that she wasn't alone. So I went to the far side of the bed and crawled in.

I hadn't meant to molest her in my sleep, and in fact had placed a pillow between us to try and keep myself separate from her body. But subconscious Ben is quite the horny fellow, and so we woke up the way we did. And only when she said my name in the morning while feeling my hands on her bare breasts and my cock pressed up against her ass did everything that happened last night finally come to me.

My eyes flew open and I jerked my hands out from beneath her shirt. I yanked my hips back and physically wormed myself about six inches away from her. And looking apologetic, I stammered, "Oh my gawd I am SO sorry!"

Peyton rotated in my grasp, a mirthful chuckle sounding deep in her throat although her mouth was closed. Her eyes twinkled as she took in my panicked expression and she reached up to touch my cheek. And I started to calm down as she stroked it gently, looking at me with only amusement and not a trace of anger. "Legendary Big Ben. Sexual creature to the end..."

"I'm sorry, Peyton," I said more calmly. "You came here last night looking for comfort and safety from a guy trying to take from you what isn't rightfully his. I know the last thing you need is to get groped in your sleep by--"

She cut me off by kissing me. My eyes flew open and my hands went up in surprise, but she kept her lips pressed to mine until I stopped resisting and she finally backed off before smiling at me while batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

"Umm ... okay..." I drawled, my eyes still wide in surprise. "So I guess you're not upset about the groping. But we should probably talk about--"

Something exploded inside my brain, and suddenly Peyton's tongue was in my mouth. Her hand on my cheek suddenly gripped my head, tugging me to meet her. And then she was pushing me onto my back as she moved into a dominant position above me.

Oh, fucking hell this feels nice...

At some point, we reached a natural break in the kiss. Holding herself above me, Peyton slowly pulled back, both of her lips briefly fastening onto my lower one, tugging on it until it snapped back to my face. Her pale green eyes sparkled as she stared down at me, but she offered a rather nervous expression, biting her lip as she evaluated my reaction to her sudden ardor.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked timidly.

I answered by pulling her down into another kiss. Peyton's passion went from zero back up to sixty immediately, and she practically devoured my face in her enthusiasm. She held my head with both of her hands, holding me in place while she kissed me as hard and as deeply as she wanted (which was pretty damn hard and deep). I let her take charge ... for a bit.

I let Peyton mount my body, straddling my hips and trapping my cock against my belly. Now it was her turn to dry hump ME. And she ground her crotch against my rod while hunching her body over enough to continue kissing me.

I let her plant her left hand on my chest and keep me pinned on my back while she sat up and tossed her hair. She smirked down at me, as if she'd won some kind of victory by being on top. And she rather sexily dragged her right hand down her face, neck, and chest before pushing it down her body and grabbing the hem of her nightshirt.

I let her watch me excitedly watching her as she pulled her hem upward, showing me that diamond pendant in her navel and briefly revealing the undersides of both bare breasts before dropping her shirt back down and teasing me by sticking out her tongue. She giggled and did it again, showing inch after inch of underboob and almost revealing her bare nipples before covering up again, and I wriggled beneath her for show, as if I really wanted to get up but only her physically superior position kept me at bay.

I let her believe she had me right where she wanted me when she finally removed her shirt and pulled both of my palms back up onto her breasts. I cupped her firm mounds, perfectly shaped and capped with fat areolas and thick nipples. I rejoiced in the weight of them in my hands, playing with her titties for a moment before sliding my hands around her sides so I could stroke her back.

And then I grabbed her.

One moment, Peyton was crowing above me as she celebrated my captivation with her radiant beauty and naked body. The next moment, I'd physically rolled us both over so that SHE was the one pinned beneath ME. And then she was moaning in surprised pleasure as I kissed her while simultaneously manipulating her sensitive nipples with my nimble fingers.

Just when she realized what had happened, I pulled back and smirked down at her. She looked up at me in surprise, her pale eyes now just a little fearful. For a moment, she'd believed herself to be in control of me. No doubt she had assumed the dominant role in a few of her previous relationships, if not all of them. But none of those boyfriends had been like me. None of them had made her feel the way I'd made her feel that fateful Friday night only two weeks ago. I was the first guy in the history of her life that had ever gotten the better of her, and I was doing so again.

Peyton didn't resist. Peyton buried her ego, buried the part of her that wanted to fight me off and regain control. Instead, she looked up at me with an expression of pure longing. And when she opened her mouth, it was to say only one word.

"Please..."

Digging my right thumb into the adjacent waistbands of her pajama pants and panties, I growled with a grin, "Absolutely."

"Fuck me, Ben ... fuck me ... Ohmigawd fuck MEEEEE!!!"

Peyton's last word extended into a scream of exquisite pleasure as she threw her head back and climaxed for the sixth time this morning (or was it seventh?). My senses were highly attuned to the signals of female orgasm, and I was usually pretty good at picking out the exact moment when one of my lovers came, but Peyton's fourth orgasm had gone on for so long and been filled with such clenching that I wasn't entirely sure whether or not it had been a single climax or two back-to-back. The fact that I'd been distracted by my own ejaculation, injecting my cream filling into her from behind, had been part of the problem.

But there was no ambiguity about this orgasm. Besides the obvious ear-splitting scream, Peyton's feet kicked aimlessly in the air, her fingers dug into my shoulder blades, and of course there was the particular way her pussy muscles clamped down around my invading cock. Pinned beneath me on her back with her legs thrown over my shoulders, she was helpless to resist as I continued drilling downwards into the gorgeous dirty-blonde, filling her full of me while feeding her my meat both raw AND well-done simultaneously.

And then I REALLY wanted to "feed" her my meat.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth," I growled moments after clarity returned to her pale green eyes and she managed to look at me again.

Her breath was coming in short pants in rhythm with my thrusts. She stared back at me with supreme intensity as if trying to memorize everything about my face. And at my words, she nodded quickly and breathed, "Cum in my mouth. Cum all over my face. Cum on my tits, in my cunt, in my ass, wherever you want it. I want you to take me, Ben. Take me any way you want to. Take me anywhere you want to. Take me every way that rat-fucking-bastard can only fantasize about having me, because he never will. He's never gonna get that chance because of you. Because you rescued me. Because you're protecting me. Because as long as I'm with you, I know I'm safe. Take me, Ben. I'm yours! Take me! Take me and-- MMPFGH!"

As much as I loved Tri-Delt President Peyton-Fucking-Kent singing my praises, I couldn't hold out any longer, so I had to pull out and plug her mouth full of cock. After climbing up her body, I abruptly parked my knees on either side of her ears and grabbed the back of her head, pulling it toward my homing missile that was targeted deep within her throat. Swiftly I entered her, forcing her to gag momentarily on my mushroom head. Her eyes watered, but she stared up at me resolutely and let me skull fuck her for a few strokes before she relaxed herself and I felt my cockhead penetrate. Her throat muscles briefly closed up around my shaft, and that sensation was all I needed. I leaned back while releasing her head, letting it fall against the pillow once again. And withdrawing my shaft from her mouth, I took myself in hand and began stroking.

She only had time to gasp for oxygen once before the first spray shot out and painted her from forehead to chin. It was a good thing she'd reflexively closed her eyes, because the line ran directly over her left eyelid. She gasped again, blinking her eyes open in time to see the second shot hit her right in the nose and go a little bit into her open mouth. And then I was groaning as I pumped out the rest of my load all over Peyton's pretty face beneath me, subsequent shots drizzling over her nose, lips, and chin.

Momentarily exhausted, I sagged forward and grabbed onto my headboard to keep from falling. I was still on my knees above her, my shins pinning her upper arms beneath me so that she couldn't even raise her hands to wipe her face. The gorgeous Tri-Delt President stared up at me with a face covered in cum, and I couldn't help but grin and start laughing at the sight.

"Gawd damn you're so pretty," I chuckled as I slid off her body. But instead of moving away, I swiftly bent down and kissed her, ignoring the taste of my own cum while I sealed my lips over hers and thanked her for letting me do that. Peyton seemed surprised, and it took a moment before she kissed me back. But she quickly got into it and hummed happily when I finally pulled away.

For a moment, she looked like she was about to say something, but a sudden idea popped into my head and I turned to the door. "Andie! Jamie! Are you two out there?"

There was a second's hesitation before the doorknob turned and slowly cracked open. Both girls were outside, along with Sasha, actually, all three of them wearing goofy expressions on their faces.

"One of you want to clean this off her with your tongue?" I said, gesturing with both hands to Peyton's face.

Andie volunteered "Me!" But Jamie had already beaten her to the punch. Instead of responding, the busty Italian babe had already darted into the room, grabbed her sorority president by the shoulders, and then proceeded to lick up every drop of cum she could find. I laughed, already knowing that Jamie was one of the biggest cumsluts I'd ever met.

A few seconds later, Jamie finished, and then briefly kissed Peyton while slipping her a glob of cum on her tongue. Peyton giggled and kissed back, but with the task complete I was spanking Jamie on the ass and saying, "Okay now OUT, all of you. Go downstairs and leave us alone for a minute, alright?"

Jamie groaned but threw me a pixie wink as she bounced off the bed. Shooing Andie and Sasha aside, she stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. And then Peyton and I were once again alone.

There were still a few traces of cum left on Peyton's face, along with a good bit of Jamie's drying saliva. I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed two tissues, and as she sat up, Peyton took them from me gratefully and began to wipe herself off.

"You know, nobody's ever done that before," she said with a shake of her head that seemed to indicate disbelief.

"What, licked cum off your face?"

Peyton laughed. "No, no. I've done that before."

"Been licked or done the licking?"

She smirked. "Both. If it weren't for your 'no boyfriends' rule, I'd have Annette or Natalee show you."

I grinned and sighed. It would be nice to see that sort of thing, but I got enough sex as it was without the complications of boyfriends of taken girls. "Then what haven't you done before?

Peyton sighed dreamily and looked at me in awe. "No guy has ever kissed me after cumming on my face."

I shrugged. "I wanted to kiss you, period."

"You make me want to kiss you again. And again and again and again. Fuck, Ben. I was serious when I said I was falling for you. And now I think my feelings are getting even worse."

I shrugged apologetically. "Given that you just said falling in love with me is getting 'worse', I feel like I should be apologizing."

"Don't. I've never felt this happy."

I furrowed my eyebrows, feeling my lust begin to wane. Yeah, I'd only had two ejaculations and had a lot more in me, but I was sated for right now and felt our initial craziness fading away. Taking a deep breath, I said, "The last thing I want to do is lead you on. I'm not in this for any serious relationships, and--"

"And I'm not asking for one," she replied, cutting me off. Sensing herself that the mood had shifted, Peyton sat up straight and tucked her legs together and to one side. After looking down at the rumpled bedsheets and idly picking at my comforter, she looked at me and said, "I'm not going to try and tie you down. I know what you've got going here with the harem and I won't try to take that away from you."

"But..."

"No 'buts'. I mean it. I owe you that much at least."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you everything. I would have done it, you know. I'd have hated myself for doing it, and you might even think less of me for knowing this, but I would have bent over for that disgusting slime ball. I can't NOT graduate this semester. I've got my whole world ahead of me: job lined up, family waiting back home, and the expectations of a lot of people for me to be their perfect princess. I can't stay through the summer to make up the credit, and I certainly can't stay through next semester. I HAVE to graduate, and ... well ... if a secret rendezvous with a pervert professor would have been required..." Her lower lip quivered, and she looked on the verge of crying, but she managed to bite out, " ... I would have done it."

I made a face, and Peyton reached out and stroked my arm.

"You've saved me from that. Yes, I know the situation isn't over. I know you guys still need a confession on tape to really nail him, but I have faith we'll get the job done. At the very least, the simple fact that OTHER people know what he's done to me gives me hope, and not just anybody: my own T.A. and a respected professor both know. I can't believe that either of them would let me get a grade I don't deserve, and I don't believe you would either."

"I won't," I growled menacingly, my eyes fixated in the distance.

She stroked my arm again before sliding higher and gliding her hand up to my cheek. Caressing it, she leaned forward and pecked me before looking me right in the eyes and saying, "I know you won't. And that's why I love you."

I winced at the L-word. "Again, I can appreciate your gratitude for me helping you out, but 'love' is just such--"

Peyton cut me off with a kiss again, and when she pulled away, she took hold of both my shoulders and turned me onto my back. I let her push me down and lean over me, stroking my chest and kissing me again before sliding her hand down and petting my now-dormant cock. "Forget that I said I love you."

"I can't."

"Then focus on this: I asked you to give me the full Big Ben Experience, and you haven't quite done that yet. I've talked quite explicitly with the girls about what goes on during a proper Big Ben Experience. You've cum on my face. You've cum in my cunt. But in simple fact, you haven't made me pass out from delirious pleasure with your cock all the way up my ass. You haven't given me the Assfuckxiation, not yet at least." Peyton turned to my nightstand, pulling open the drawer while muttering, "Now Andie said it would be ... here!"

I sat up and looked over, finding that Peyton now held aloft my well-used bottle of Astroglide. We were both still naked, and Peyton smiled at me as she pushed the bottle into my hands and then reclined back across my bed with her arms loosely stretched behind her head. She was fully exposed to me, head to toe, and I drank in the mouth-wateringly gorgeous sight of her, from glimmering green eyes, sexy lips, firm breasts, that delightful belly pendant, sweet pussy, and down her long legs.

"I told you to take me in every way. I'm all yours. No, I'm not your girlfriend and you're not my boyfriend. But from now until the time we both graduate and go our separate ways, I'm yours. Okay? As part of the harem, just as a girl on the side, whatever. Take me whenever you want me. Take me wherever you want me. I am yours."