How to Get an Abymuffinmurray©
There's one in every class, he thought, writing the latest assignment on the board, his back turned to Danielle, who he knew was sitting there twirling her hair while her peers frantically scribbled down his complicated instructions.
He turned and said, "For a few of you, this is really your last chance. If I see a marked improvement then I'll cut you some slack when it comes to grading." He sighed. "I've got your exams from last week."
He walked up and down the aisles handing out the exams. He glared at Danielle when he handed her exam back with a big red F scrawled over the top. She shrugged.
The final bell of the day rang. He excused the class and walked down the hall to the department offices. He had his own office in the corner, so he shut himself inside and rubbed his temples. He wasn't sure what to do about Danielle. She seemed as though she wanted to fail, and at every turn she mocked him. She shirked responsibility, she never studied. And yet he couldn't quite bring himself to fail her. He thought she was beautiful, with a soft face, big green eyes, a young body. She dressed promiscuously sometimes, but her clothes were sometimes subtle, too. He could sometimes see the curve of her breasts above the top of her shirt, or her belly button peeking out above her jeans, or a skirt showing off her long legs. She dressed to be looked at, that he knew.
It bothered him that he couldn't stop thinking about her. He knew she wouldn't bother to do this latest assignment. He really should fail her. He flipped open his grade book to do just that when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," he shouted.
And there she was. Today she was wearing a big flannel shirt over a strappy tank top that danced across her breasts and a teeny black skirt.
"I, uh, wanted to talk about my grade."
"All right," he said. He gestured for her to come in. "Have a seat. Let's talk."
"Mind if a close the door?" she asked.
"That's fine," he replied.
She closed the door behind her but didn't sit down.
"Is there anything I can do to keep from failing?" She looked at him with a pout on her lips.
"You can do the new assignment. I'll count it as fifty percent of your grade. If you do it well, I can give you a C." He tried to sound stern, but his resolve was shaky. He thought even her shoes—high heeled sandals that showed off toes painted blue—were incredibly sexy. He smelled her perfume, the same one an ex-girlfriend wore, and he felt his cock stir against his will. He crossed his legs.
"See, I don't know if a C is good enough, you know? Yours is the only class I'm failing, and the grad school I got accepted to? They might take back their acceptance if I fail a class."
"All you have to do is finish the work," he said. "There's not much I can do for you if you don't bother to put the effort in."
She nodded, paced across the office. "A C would bring down my whole average," she said.
"Do you act this way for your other classes?"
"Well," she said. "None of my other teachers are like you. I kind of enjoy sitting in your class. The others I do what I have to, you know?"
"That doesn't make any sense. If you like my class, why don't you do the work? Why do you do the work for classes you don't like as much?"
"So we can have this extra time together," she said plainly. "Extra help and all that."
"I wish you'd sit down," he said, starting to get nervous. He didn't want her to see his erection, which would continue to grow if she didn't stop pacing. From his seat, he was at eye-level with her lovely belly.
"I think we can work something out," she said, and she leaned over him, putting a hand on either armrest of his chair.
"I... well..." He could see down her shirt, two perfectly formed breasts, round and firm, held in by a pink bra.
"I know how to raise my grade," she said. He felt her breath on his face.
She felt his tie with one hand, running her fingers down it. Her hand traveled from the tie directly to his pants. She ran her hand over the zipper, feeling the bulge. He sucked in his breath.
"If this is inappropriate," she said with a smirk, "then tell me to stop."
"You can't, can you? I see you watching me in class."
She knelt before him. He watched her manicured fingers go to work, undoing his belt buckle, slowly unzipping his pants, sliding inside. She felt his underwear—boring grey cotton boxers—and felt the growing erection underneath. His cock was eager with anticipation.
In one smooth gesture, she got the cock out from the pants and the underwear, looked at it for a moment, began to stroke it. He let a groan escape his lips.
"Is this all right, Mr. Peterson?" she asked.
He could only nod in response. He was filled with a mixture of deep pleasure and remorse. He knew this was inappropriate, but his dick was thinking for him, wanting only to be enveloped by this girl's mouth.
Which happened a moment later. She stroked his cock until it was fully hard and then lowered her pretty lips to it, first kissing the tip, then slowly covering it. She licked him and stroked him then swallowed him. He felt the back of her throat contract. He felt the wet warmness of her mouth, felt her tongue dance up the base of his cock, felt himself sweating.
She was good, skilled, knew how hard to stroke and alternately suck and kiss and lick. He put a hand on the back of her head to guide her, but soon grabbed a clump of her hair with some measure of violence because if he didn't grab onto something, he knew he'd have to cry out. She bobbed up and down on his penis, sucking on it. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed, felt the impending orgasm.
"I'm gonna come," he warned her.
"Please do," she said around his penis.
And he came, shooting spurts of hot cum into her waiting mouth. When he was done, she stood up and licked her lips. He sat back in the chair panting.
"So what can you do for me?" she asked.
"Definitely a C," he managed to say.
"A C? You can do better."
"Danielle, you've failed every exam, you've only handed in half of the papers..."
The flannel shirt fell to the floor. She kicked it out of the way then took a step back. She touched her breasts, gently at first, then she grabbed them. She squeezed the nipples through the cloth of her bra and the tank top. She sneered at him. She slid the tank top off over her head and tossed it at him. It landed on top of his limp penis, which was still exposed.
"An A, Mr. Peterson. I need an A."
"What are you willing to do?" he asked.
She unbuttoned her skirt and slid it down her legs. She was wearing yellow panties with pink stars, which struck him as juvenile.
"This violates every student-teacher rule in the book," he pointed out.
"I'm willing to do anything," she said. "And I won't tell a soul if you won't."
"I don't know if I can do this," he said. "It's just wrong. I'll see what I can do about this grade..." He started to turn back to his grade book, but she walked over and put a hand over it to stop him.
"I don't think you understand, Mr. Peterson. I like your class because I like you. You are smart and handsome. More than handsome. You're sexy, brooding, just the kind of man I like. I've wanted you from the first day of class. I fantasize about you. And I always get what I want."
"You think about me, too. I know you do. It's not about the grade anymore."
She grabbed his chin and lifted it so that he was looking at her. She reached around her back and unclipped the bra, letting her breasts go free. They bobbed a little. They were round and firm with erect nipples. It was everything he could do not to reach out and touch them.
"Oh, I want you," she said with clenched teeth, as she felt her naked breasts, letting her fingers drift over them, touching her nipples, touching the curves. He felt his dick come back to life under the tank top.
"Do you sit in here or at home, Mr. Peterson, and fantasize about me? Do you jack off wondering what this body would be like under the clothes?" She walked over to him and leaned over him again, conspicuously placing her breasts in front of his face.
"Sometimes I do, yes," he said. "I think about you."
"Stroke your cock for me now like you do when you think about me."
He complied, stroking it loosely, feeling it get hard again.
She got down in his face, her lips only an inch from his, and she said, "Do you want me right now, Mr. Peterson?"
"Oh, I want you," he said, thinking only with his desires, not with his logical head. He knew he'd be in for a world of trouble if someone were to walk in, but based on the silence, no one was around anyway.
"I want you too," she said, and she kissed him gently, sucking on his lips. He continued to stroke his penis with one hand and his other finally indulged in her body, touching one of her breasts, feeling the smooth, soft skin, touching the hard nipple. He groaned.
She straddled him, loosening his tie, throwing it on the ground. He went to work sucking on her nipples while she unbuttoned his shirt, and her fingers slipped underneath, feeling his toned chest and arms. She slid the shirt off and the tee-shirt underneath, too, and she touched his bare chest, amazed by its tautness.
He kissed her hungrily then, biting her lip. She sighed, then broke the kiss, sat up and called out. She felt his now hard cock pushing against her panties. She rode it briefly, letting it get harder, letting the tip poke at her vagina. She felt she couldn't wait much longer.
She stood and backed up. She slid her panties down her legs, stepped out of them. He stood, too, and let his unbuttoned pants fall to the ground. She made the brave move of pulling his boxers down, too, and making his feet move so that he stepped out of his pants and was naked before her, cock bouncing high. He grabbed her waist, kissed her, rubbed his penis against her smooth body. She gasped.
He pushed her body down so that her chest was laying parallel with the top of his desk. He parted her legs from behind, stuck in an exploratory finger. She was wet and waiting.
"Oh, God, take me already," she said.
And he did, thrusting his cock into her with one strong motion. He stayed there for a moment, indulging in the sensation, the warm softness within. It felt amazing.
"Please," she begged.
He began thrusting in and out, picking up speed as he went, encouraged by her yelps and groans to keep going. Having already come, he knew he could make this last a while. He pounded her as she begged for more, going in and out rapidly, getting lost in the sensations of her young pussy against his hard cock. He wanted to see more of her, though. He wanted to feel those breasts again.
He pulled out, and she stood up, turning her head to look at him questioningly.
"Oh, don't stop," she said.
"I've only just begun."
He motioned for her to lay on the desk, so she did, sitting up partially, separating her legs as wide as they'd go. He entered her again, and she looked down and watched as his cock slid in and out of her. He put his hands out and felt those perfect breasts.
"Oh!" she cried. Then she began to sigh and moan until finally she came spectacularly. He felt the walls of her vagina contract, squeezing his cock. He was inspired to push harder, and continued to pound her. She was whimpering for him to keep going, and almost immediately, she came again, her whole body convulsing. He slowed a little to let her catch her breath, but didn't disengage.
"Oh, Mr. Peterson," she said, putting her arms around him. He was still inside her, and his cock was eager for more, so he moved in and out of her slowly while holding her in his arms. She kissed his neck, moved her hips in rhythm with him. She pushed him gently, and he pulled out, fell back into his chair. Panting, she got on top of him, and started riding him in the chair, pumping up and down quickly. "I'm gonna come again," she said, and then did so.
She stood up, not knowing what to do next. He was still hard, his penis pointing to the sky. His hand traveled there, and he stroked it. He wanted more.
She got down on the floor, laying there, her knees pointed towards the sky. He joined her there, lowered himself over her, and slipped inside her again, kissing her passionately. He began to pump inside her again, then he felt the build up in his balls. He cried out.
"Come inside me," she said, grabbing his ass to keep him in place.
And he came strongly. The pulsing of his penis made her come again, too, and they cried out together on the floor of his office and collapsed in a sweaty heap.
"That definitely deserves an A?" she asked.
"Come back tomorrow and I'll let you know," he said.