Extra Credit

In the morning, a sexually satiated Farrah shily posed a proposition. Could she return every Sunday afternoon for more 'tutor coaching'? Bob hesitated for dramatic effect and then appeared to reluctantly give in to her desire for more, although inside he was jumping for joy.

It was time to end the weekend and get ready for school. Bob showed Farrah a convenient small selection of cosmetics he kept handy for gal visitors in his bathroom. She preened, fixed her hair and makeup, and let watching Bob add a final touch. He brushed tincture on her nipples, reddening the brown disks with a maroon rouge. It tickled and she giggled. He left her to complete her minimal dressing; she found her clothes from Friday night's arrival: heels, the white translucent blouse, and the short skirt. The panties had been surrendered as his memento and the bra seemed to have gotten lost somehow.

He called from the kitchen for her to hurry; they hustled through a rushed bite of breakfast, watching the clock. As they headed for the front door, Bob was moved by Farrah's sexy schoolgirl image. His dick twitched and he couldn't stand to miss acting out his recurring fantasy generated by her seductive classroom entrances. But he must be quick; time was running out.

He grabbed her arm and spun her back against the wall, pressing her there with his body, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Farrah obliged his palpable passion, delighted by Mr. Kenworth's last-minute romantic adieu. He must have developed feelings for her over their sex-filled interlude.

He played his tongue between her lips and she responded in kind, hugging his neck to hold the connection. Bob fumbled with his belt and zipper, dropping his pants. Farrah stopped her tonguing to voice opposition to his obvious intention.

"There's no time..." she murmured. Bob thought otherwise.

In his mind, he was in the lecture hall, the class dismissed and just Farrah lingering behind. She was his captive as he pressed her back to the wall. Without panties, he simply hauled her knee up to rest on his hip, opening her thighs wide for this hustled pussy penetration. He drove in, hard and fast to her vocal protestations. He was not to be denied.

The subsequent rapid ramming of hard man meat in her hot cunt banged her ass against the wall. He was half aware that he was really in his own house; his wall hangings rattling with the force of rough fucking. Bob's weekend had been filled with enough sex to drain any man. But even so, he was enflamed to a terrific orgasm by his standing fuck fantasy, barely registering Farrah's reciprocal call of parallel fulfillment. They juddered to a rest, clinging to each other's bodies.

He settled her on her heels as he withdrew. His spunk oozed out and stained her inner thighs. She looked around for some cleanup tissues but none were handy.

Bob buckled his pants and grabbed her wrist, impatiently dragging her outside and into the car. He raced away and zipped past her dormitory against her frantic gripes about needing to clean up and change. He stopped the car outside the classroom building and ordered her out.

"You don't want to be late for class" he quipped and drove off to the teacher's parking lot.

Farrah stood on the sidewalk where he left her, suffering the stares of passing professors and classmates. She looked exactly like the truth: a fucked and dumped coed slut in heels, skirt, and thin blouse. It was too far to run back to her dorm to rectify her attire. And today was quiz day, which she couldn't afford to miss. She grudgingly trudged toward the lecture hall inside.

Farrah entered the classroom last, as usual. Her rosy fucked out glow, her careful steps on the stairs to avoid a bare pussy flash, and her rouged disks quivering under her translucent blouse, altogether gave her male classmates, and an already present Mr. Kenworth, an unprecedented sex-fueled spectacle this morning. She sulkily settled in next to Curt who whispered his indignant curiosity about her total weekend absence; especially when he could smell the scent of the last-minute sticky discharge, smeared on her barely hidden inner thighs.

Bob brought the class to order.

"Close your textbooks and notes. We will take a quiz this morning."

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It was a bright September day, a new year, a new class, and a new football team. Farrah had gotten her scholarship last spring, as had Curt. She had spent the remainder of that year's weekends placating Bob's macho libido, and her own sexual passions, every Sunday evening and night. Within a few months of the weekly routine, she had mastered deep throat and coveted the taste of his cum, just as Bob had known she could.

Curt's grades had steadily improved, not only because he was actually learning the material thanks to Farrah's special tutoring methods, but because Bob had eased his grading impairment of the football star's homework and thereby assured his continued football participation.

The football team had really perked up and seemed unstoppable, with numerous clutch plays and extraordinary efforts. They secured the state title and Curt was the season's MVP with State U quarterback prospects.

Following Bob's prompting, and unbeknownst to the parents and coaches, Farrah had persuaded a small group of like-minded cheerleaders from the squad to form a motivation coalition who, in their inimitable personal ways, sought out and rewarded any player, or players, whose spectacular play at a key juncture ensured a winning game. Locker room jibes about blowjob-worthy catches and cowgirl-guaranteed tackles were ignored by the conjecturing coaches, happy with a winning season and looming contract renewals.

Curt merited his continuing athletic scholarship to State U, adding much-needed talent to the team, and graduated with a useful degree even without the promise of a follow-on professional sports career. In his later years, Curt's barroom reminiscing about past football glory would be enabled by gainful employment from a real business career, thanks to his newly found lust for learning inspired by Farrah's special tutoring techniques.

From the lectern, Bob saw the latest community college's quarterback seated with his redheaded buxom girlfriend. Regrettably, or not, the boy's homework grades had begun to suffer regardless of their apparent correctness and the lad would soon seek out assistance from his math teacher.

Bob gazed lustfully at the curvaceous freckled redhead. She dressed modestly, in looser fashions, but her sex appeal was conspicuous despite her veiling attempt. He hadn't had a redhead weekend toy for a few years; it seemed about time for a year-long liaison with this one.

Bob could have been a tenured professor at the capital city's State University but found definite advantages to being a bigger fish in a smaller pond at this more remote setting.

He loved his job here at the small community college and its many opportunities for unrivaled professional perks.