The Invigilator

Cheating, twin snuggle puppies, and a fetching hospitable Nordic hinnie

Ryan Dilger was sitting at the front of the room, waiting for money. Time equals money in the life of an invigilator. 

It crossed his mind that there had to be worse second jobs to reduce the debts accumulated by thirty-five years of age, including a mortgage, second car, private school fees, and music and dance practice for his two young daughters. 

Someone was making money in the world and shaping their future faster than himself. Could you catch up to the upward mobiles watching random individuals complete ESL tests defining their futures?

These second-job evenings were putting distance into his married life, as Joyce, his wife of eight years, had a second job, too. Then, every weekend, there was junior sports to 'taxi' the kids to. 

Plus, Joyce had gone revival religious on Sundays. So, he needed some alone time with his wife; it had been a while—too long, in fact.

Ryan refocused as the minutes ticked down. In the invigilator life, one lived in minutes till all the minutes passed.

He had the single test paper out. 

He checked again, unnecessarily — ESL multi-choice —then fill in some gaps from options. A comprehension passage and a two-hundred-word writing topic selected from several options. 

He smirked; some of his inner-city high school students probably wouldn't pass this, and they only had their mother tongue.

He only had one candidate to supervise this evening, probably because it was a Friday night. 

Still, it paid seventy dollars an hour, and it was easy money, whether there were twenty-five candidates in the room or only one. 

Yet who in their right mind does a test after twilight Friday or who, as a sensible option, invigilates Friday evenings?

Ryan looked at the Test Participation Roll: Name: ID number and the columns to shade: Present: Absent: Exempt: Withdrawn and Sanctioned Abandonment.

Mischa Belinsky and an ID number, one of those unisex names.

They were probably an Eastern European mechanic whose qualifications were not recognised here or a mature Baltic woman wanting to get an aged care job. His usual subjects to observe — continuously — were middle-aged hopefuls. 

They never cheated or looked like they thought it; they had an honest exam ethic, kept their heads down, and never met the invigilator's glaze.

Besides, Ryan had perfected his probing, roving hawk eyes over time, just in case.

It was 7.55 pm. Ryan was sitting at the desk at the front of the room, on the slightly raised invigilator platform with a clock on the wall to the side, ready for the 8.00 pm start.

A booklet, a pencil, a rubber and a sharpener were waiting to be allocated to Belinsky.

The examinee arrived; well, no, she was dominatingly present, and she was attractively hot. 

If she was twenty, she was only days into that phase of her life. 

Wow, her short black skirt was tiny, and her boots were high. She wore a short-sleeve white blouse with the top three buttons open, and her well-formed, stunningly eye-drawing shapely breasts quivered with a slight wobble and jiggle bounce in the absence of a bra. 

Voluptuousness was the only appropriate word that Ryan summoned; the word a mouthful, like both her breasts, which would be comprehensively face-filling.

She was a natural long-haired blonde with sassy blue eyes, knowing she could get what she wanted anytime. Surely Nordic!

Ryan had to focus on his professional role, so he placed the sign — Examination in Progress — in the slot outside the door and shut it.

He next asked for her ID to check her name. 

She flashed it silently with a dazzling pearly smile.

Yep, she was twenty.

Mischa rolled off his tongue while skipping through his mind and pulsating in his groin.

He passed her the test booklet and materials drawn to her soft and slender open hand. He dropped the rubber and eraser into her slightly cupped palm and noticed her slim wrist.

She took the pencil, closing her tiny fist around the items.

Her calculating eye took in his wedding ring but, more importantly, his flustered demeanour.

Mischa — selected the middle desk, three rows away, the absolute centre of the room. 

Ryan was thinking, the centre of attention. 

He had watched her pert arse slink up the rows; wow, classic heart-shaped booty.

Ryan's heart was pumping, but the examiner's desk luckily hid the blood engorging his pecker.

It was already ticking past eight pm. 

Damn, he was behind time — just.

Ryan started reading aloud the test administration script:

"Do not open your test booklet until instructed. Look at the front cover; record your name, your exam ID number and today's date." 

He paused until he was sure she had written in her personal details as required.

In that instance, he also checked where one of her legs was crossed high over the other, drawing the eye deep to her inner thigh flesh; the join formed a naturally inviting slit.

Then he continued, "Turn to page one; for all questions in Sections A and B of this test, you will either have to shade a bubble or write your answer on the lines or in the boxes provided. Write neatly so that your answers are easy to read. Shade the bubbles carefully. If you make a mistake, rub it out completely and try again."

Ryan paused, hoping for eye contact. It didn't come.

"If you find a question that is too hard for you, go on to the next one. If you have time, you can go back to any question you didn't do after you have finished the other questions. Now, please look at the sample ways to complete answers on page two of your booklet." 

He paused again.

While Mischa looked at the page, Ryan was seriously checking her cleavage. Still, her brow furrow showed she didn't fully comprehend.

Then, when her head was up, her eyes pierced straight into his.

What was she doing? he thought, but continued: "Section C requires you to respond to a comprehension passage and Section D; select one writing topic; only one topic and write up to 200 words."

He added: "Finally, if you have any questions, raise your hand, and I will come to speak with you. Because this is a test of how well you read, I cannot read or explain the questions or texts to you. I can only read the instructions in the blue shaded boxes."

He took a breath.

"If you finish early, check that you have answered all the questions; then, wait quietly until the test time is finished. I will mark off time on the board and will tell you when you have five minutes left. You have forty –five minutes, starting now."

Ryan went straight to checking her now slightly parted thighs; she was pencil tapping as she started the multi-choice section.

There is a fine line between invigilating and staring, watching and being intrusive—the step to mentally undressing a woman focusing on another task, not you.

Unknown to Ryan, Mischa quickly made decisions outside the test paper. 

Of course, she had no idea and was choosing random A, B, C or D's, but she would pass whatever it took. 

So she began her own examination of Ryan, starting with the classic but trusty pencil between her lips, teasing it with a light suckin' motion as her eyes flirted directly.

Mischa had Ryan's attention all right, double attention, both above and below the desk line. His eyes hooked, his pecker bulging. And it only got more intense.

She opened her legs beneath the desk and pulled her black knickers to one side revealing her shaved, shapely slit.

Ryan was lost. 

Stolen away

Kidnapped by pussy lust — the primary male cunt-stuck moment.

Mischa was up from her desk, walking forward.

Ryan's cock, too, was up; tightly up; but still stuck in his pants.

She walked around the examiner's desk and planted a warm, wet, wondrous kiss that lingered and tingled across his lips.

Her top was opened; her fulsome breasts were now in Ryan's finger fondle zone, shapely and full, naturalness defined, pure breast definition.

He had to sample her nipples and didn't hold back.

Mischa had a compelling need to pass, and Ryan had the equity of the moment not to pass on the offered boobs.

His pants and boxers were down, only just; only far enough to get his pecker into action.

The blonde was bent over the edge of the desk; she had an awesome fem-arse, and she spread.

It was as simple as ABC; his cock into her shaved hole and thrusting. 

The D was covered in Deep.

Mischa was moaning, her body moving backwards towards Ryan's, along his entire erect pecker.

That was her introduction.

Mischa knew time was of the essence. She was on her knees saying hello to his cock; front on. 

"Kuk," she said before slurping head.

Ryan's knob was enveloped in her sweet mouth, her hand gripping and massaging his shaft simultaneously. She only broke the pleasurable sequence with some delightful ball licking and sac skin stretching, repeatedly tugging the silky skin down with her lips.

Ryan lost all sense of time.

Then Mischa was back to his cock head with a hard, firm, vigorous sure action of building pleasure. 

Her eyes occasionally looked directly up at Ryan; engaging him with her in the act; her dominating fellatio; her exquisite cock tugging, and her superb meatpole jerking.

She knew guys liked to check out her gear like a motor under the hood of a fast car. Her private personal pussy arrangement was sleek, shiny and shimmering with wetness and more than capable of fulfilling any male dream specifications. 

Moreover, she was in personal possession of premium coochie merchandise.

His tongue teased around and in her lipettes, her juices mixing with his savouring saliva slurry. 

Ryan's tongue rimmed her anus, and she went 'mmm' instantly. 

"Rasshull," she murmured.

He had never done it to Joyce.

With two of his fingers in her coochie, he was plying pleasure, and then he removed his fingers. They were now covered in her beautiful, sticky femcum, and he offered them to her. 

She took his fingers and treated herself to herself; Ryan's libido went to a heightened awareness of need and plain male insistent drive and opened a vista; slut prowess exposed.

Mischa was on her back; on the desk; her legs spread up towards the ceiling; the beautiful straight receptive Delta of Venus; ready for cock.

Then it was two bodies pushing and moving into and away from each other, though centred by their privates mating and her bountiful breasts bouncing freely around her chest.

Sway and swivel, tremor and jiggle, bob and joggle. 

Ah, breasts on the move in sex; the warble and quaver; quickening cock in its charging sortie; he raided fjord deep into a compelling feminine ensnaring territory, cock wants to be captured; then released.

His cock drew two bodies together, then pulled out, nearly apart but always held: held by her gripping grasping grab; seconds first, then minutes of shared human delight.

Mischa directed him to the examiner's chair. 

Ryan was seated. 

She was riding him; facing into him; her legs spread outside; across his, and she was using her feet and body to lift off his cock. Then she was grinding right back down to his pubic bone, then up and away again, then down with a consistent fantastic, frictional flourish.

"Føkk, føkk, føkk," she cooed.

He got his hands on her cute arse and added his rhythm, controlling her body's rise and fall on his pecker.

She was again facing away from him at the desk, giving the rear invitation. It was available, and he took it.

Ryan had had anal sex once with Joyce, who was not enthusiastic, and it was not repeated.

This girl was willing, wild and wanton. 

There was only the mesmerising, seizing, clutching of her balloon knot like a delectable chokehold; restraining his meat; yet allowing somehow; in the throttled constriction; the expressive, expansive, spearing schlong movement.

"Ugh! Ugh, Hugh," she groaned.

Well, Ryan pounded her butthole to scoured glacial raking depths.

Off course, he creamed her puckered starfish in an unrestrained, sweeping slam of male jizz release.

Hell, the exam was scheduled to finish in about ten minutes; they tidied themselves.

Ryan used the answer sheet to give Mischa 92 % accuracy on the multi-choice, fill-in-the-word, and comprehension sections. 

Christ, there was some fast rubbing out of her everything attempted, which were all incorrectly guessed responses.

He deliberately left the three statistically more difficult answers with the usually chosen mistake. He wrote her two hundred words in under five minutes on the standard theme, Holidays, in straightforward ESL-style basic sentences with a few bland adjectives. 

It was all passable and not suspicious.

Mischa watched, invigilating her future; she then scrutinised as Ryan shaded the bubble on the Test Participation Roll: Present.

Present all right — and signed off that the test had been administered with all protocols and sealed the administrative papers and her test booklet in a large envelope for the front office.

She then gave Ryan a peck on the cheek and a blown kiss from the door.

The clock on the wall went past nine.

What an hour!

More importantly, what a score!

A 110% rating by the invigilator.