Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 01

I first noticed Tamar about two minutes into the semester. Late for class, she flounced into my lecture theatre, smiled an apology and took a seat, while I reminded myself that one of the true joys of academic life was the chance to have the full attention of girls like her.

She was eighteen - just - with long blonde hair, a bewitching smile on a face made to be wrapped around a cock, legs up to heaven, the tightest ass I'd ever seen, and cute, red-painted toenails on succulent feet. Yeah, I'm a foot man, so sue me.

Over the years I've learned two facts about incredibly gorgeous young things like Tamar. First , they inevitably know just how fucking hot they are and just how much most men will do to get into their panties. Second - and hallelujah - they see their university lecturers as a challenge. They can fuck pretty much any student they want, whenever they want, but to get a lecturer so hot that he'd put his career on the line to fuck them - now that is a worthy challenge.

I have never been immune to the game myself. I am under no illusions about my own attractiveness, of course. But if a hot little slut like Tamar is going to throw herself at me - well, I'm only human. I've enjoyed my share of student pussy over the years.

As the semester progressed, I watched and enjoyed Tamar's game of tease. Despite her youth, she was quite the expert, and seemed to instinctively recognise my foot fetish, so I was treated to a weekly parade of cute shoes, toenail polish and ankle bracelets, framed by ever-shortening skirts showing off those amazing legs, and brief tops putting her navel piercing and pert young tits on display. When my gaze settled on her and she caught my eye, she flashed me a delicious smile which said she knew exactly what I was looking at and why. The game was most definitely on.

For a while, though, I just enjoyed the view and did little more. She enjoyed putting on the show and I enjoyed watching, but she hadn't yet given any indication that she was doing anything more than just teasing. I'd seen her around campus a couple of times on the arm of a footballer, so it was most likely that he was the fuck and I was the tease. And hell, that was AOK by me.

All that changed though when the class assignments came in. Politics students had become notorious for cheating, and I had begun accepting assignments electronically and running them through Turnitin, a software program which scans the assignment and searches the web for identical wording. There were usually a couple of cheats each semester, and they earned a 'fail' and a solid talking-to. On this occasion, only student came up as a cheat. Wilson, Tamar.

At the end of the following lecture I left the graded papers along the front in alphabetical order and let the students grab their papers on the way out. Pretty soon, the only two left were Tamar and me.

She sauntered over, using her best sexy walk, perched on heels much too high for normal campus use, tits bouncing just so, liquid smile begging to be kissed. "Dr. Anderson, my paper doesn't seem to be in here."

I looked at her a little harshly. Not the infatuated lecturer she was expecting. "No, Tamar, there was a problem with your paper. I think you already know that. My office is room 315. Be there at three this afternoon." I watched with great satisfaction as a flicker of fear crossed her face, then I turned and left.

I enjoyed a leisurely lunch, savoring the anticipation more than the food. This little bitch was about to learn more from Dr. Anderson than she'd signed up for. By ten to three I was at my desk, pretending to be busy but actually rehearsing the afternoon in my mind. On a whim, I put my eye to the spyhole in my office door, and there she was, pacing the hallway outside, checking her watch every fifteen seconds or so.

She'd used the last few hours well. She'd changed into a ridiculously short sundress which put her ass and tits fully on display; she'd put on some sexy high heeled sandals which I happened to love, and she'd fixed her make-up perfectly. Clearly she expected to be able to fuck her way out of this one - and so she would, though not quite in the manner she was expecting.

At precisely three, she knocked on the door, a tremulous, half-afraid knock. Looking through the keyhole, I waited and did not answer. Thirty seconds passed, and she knocked once more. Again, I declined to answer. As she was turning to leave, having decided I was not in, I opened the door. "Come in, Miss Wilson," I said.

She turned, biting her lip, and followed me into the office. I locked the door and took a seat behind my desk. I had removed the other chairs, leaving her with no option but to stand. She looked, and no doubt felt, just like a schoolgirl appearing before the principal.

"On the desk, Tamar, are two pieces of paper. One is your assignment. The other is an opinion piece written for the Melbourne Argus late last year. Both papers have a section highlighted. Read them and see if you can see any similarities."

She was biting her lip now and trying not to cry, but even doing this she was a coquette in full control of her charms. She made a cursory display of looking at the papers but she knew what they'd show as well as I did.

"You realise, of course, that I have no option but to expel you."

Crunch time, or so she thought. She moved in close, put her hand on my shoulder, and half-whispered "I'm sorry, Doctor. Truly I am. I really don't want to get expelled ... Isn't there some other way we could work this out?" To leave me in no doubt as to her proposal, she slowly ran her fingertips from my shoulder up to my hairline, just behind my ear. Damn, I wanted to just turn and kiss her, but that would have spoiled everything.

"Did you really think you could get out of this just by offering to fuck me, Tamar? You're cute, but not that cute."

Now she looked shocked, and the tears were real. "Come on, Doctor. You don't understand. My parents will kill me. I can't get expelled. Please, there's got to be something ... anything ... please?"

That was perfect. Time to spring the trap. I pulled a digital camera from my desk drawer. "Perhaps we can find a way, Tamar. But we're talking about more than just one quick fuck here. Understand?" Her nod was so pathetically grateful I could have laughed. But it was time for some fun.

"To begin with, Tamar, I want you standing on the desk." She looked at me like I was mad, but I insisted, and she scrambled up onto my chair and from there onto the desk, her high heels a real hindrance now. I took the camera and started snapping high-res photos of her as she mounted the table, followed by a couple of hot upskirt ones.

She looked at me in horror. "Are you some kind of pervert or something?"

I laughed. "Yes, Tamar, I am. More to the point, I'm the pervert who can have you thrown out of this university. Now, lose the dress and smile."

She was crying again as she removed her dress, unbuttoning a couple of the buttons then lifting it over her head, leaving her hair slightly mussed. I made her smile through the tears though, as I snapped photos of the incredible young body slowly becoming revealed to me.

Her ivory-colored bra and thong panties were clearly purchased for show and, frankly, they did a damned good job. My cock was straining the inside of my pants but it would have to wait a little while yet. "Keep going," I told Tamar. "The bra next."

She twisted her arms behind herself to unclasp her bra, her face flushed bright red with a delicious combination of humiliation, fear and anger. The bra dropped to the floor by my feet and I took some amazing photos of the tits she'd been teasing me with all semester long. "The panties, Tamar."

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and eased them over her hips, letting them slip down to the desk where she stepped out of them, leaving her, naked but for her heels, perched on my desk, her head almost brushing the ceiling. She was perfect, her dark, trimmed pussy hair framing slick, slightly puffy pussy lips. I had her turn so I could set eyes on a flawless ass, heart-shaped and high, her asshole peeking down at me from her high position. I finally finished taking photos - I had maybe 40 - and set the camera down.

Walking to Tamar, I began by caressing the cheeks of that wonderful ass, feeling her shudder with fear, pleasure or both as I ran a finger down her asscrack and over her anus. Taking her by the hips I turned her towards me, and slipped two fingers very easily into one very tight yet very aroused young pussy. "I think you're enjoying this more than you'd like to admit, Tamar," I said. She whimpered slightly as my thumb found her clit and I began working her both inside and out.

I had her kneel, now, on all fours on the desk. More photos of the fantastic view from behind, then I leaned in and began to eat. Long, slow licks at first, outside her pussy, licking away stray moisture, licking up and down her lips as she reached back and began gently rubbing her clit. Her hips were working, now, moving in tight circles and pressing back gently against my face. At last, my tongue found its way inside her, parting her lips and tasting her from the source. So young, so fresh, so utterly delicious.

Her moans were more urgent now as her fingers and my tongue between them brought her closer to climax. Such pretty moans, somewhere between begging and whimpering and low, guttural moans of pure sex. Then, suddenly, she tipped over the edge into orgasm, the humiliation of her position forgotten in the intensity of the moment. She ground her pussy back into my face, riding the sensation as long as she could, before it became too much, and she fell forward onto my desk, a wet quivering mess (and another beautiful photo).

I gave her a couple of minutes to recover, but we weren't done yet. After all, turnabout is fair play. "Kneel down on the floor, Tamar," I said, "and pull my cock out."

She took a moment to respond, but slid from the desk and found herself kneeling on her dress and carefully undoing my trousers, easing them down and slipping off my boxer shorts. I had been hard for ages, and was dripping pre-cum like a fire hose. Not needing any instructions, Tamar began licking the length of my cock, closing that pretty little mouth over the head for just a moment at the top of each stroke.

After a minute or so she paused mid-lick. "Dr Anderson, I really, really don't like to swallow cum? Must I?"

I laughed. She'd been a good girl overall, and I had other plans anyway. "Just keep sucking," I told her. She attacked my cock now, taking it into her mouth and sucking hard up and down the shaft. Looking down I was treated to the amazing sight of her model-gorgeous face, pouty lips wrapped around my cock, eyes still looking up at me, begging not to have to swallow.

My moans grew more intense now as I entered those final moments when orgasm is inevitable, my whole body straining for release. At the last possible second, I pulled my cock from her mouth and sprayed jets of cum onto that pretty young face. She tried to pull away but I held her in place, adding a second, a third, a fourth string of cum.

When I was done, she looked around for a tissue, but I had her pose, smiling, for several great facial shots before allowing her to clean up and dress. She was crying again, such pretty tears. "So we're even now? You won't expel me?"

I laughed softly. "I won't expel you, Tamar, but we're far from even. You see, I have these photographs." I held up the camera and enjoyed her stricken look. "Unless you want these to begin appearing in some unusual places online, or, say, at your father's workplace, then I'd say it's in your interests to come when I call, fuck where, when and how I demand, and generally do as you're told. Wouldn't you agree?"

She was furious but beaten. "You fucking bastard," she whispered. I could only agree.