Santa Ate My Homework

[A bit of a build up at the beginning, but detailed sex will follow. Thanks again to Carnevil9 for a proofread. Any errors remain mine.]

*

"Santa ate my homework."

I tried not to laugh, I really did, but I could not resist.

"In all my years as a prof, that is the most creative excuse that I have heard, I will admit. But you're going to have to explain a bit more than that. This was your major term paper, and you already got an extension. The semester is over, and I need to evaluate your work and put in a grade."

She sat in the older overstuffed chair across from me, leaning back, and drew her right leg up so her foot rested on the cracked leather. I tried really hard not to check out the view of her crotch in her pants, I really did. But I could not resist. Even her big floppy socks looked sexy. It registered on me just then that she had no real reason to have taken off her boots when she came into my tiny office.

She chewed her lower lip pensively, a move that was already well familiar after twelve weeks of my upper year seminar on "Myth and Literature- Fictional Archetypes in a Modern Context". Her chin length blonde hair swished along her jaw line, as it always did when she was nervous, which was lot of the time.

She had been anxious the day she had visited my office hours and proposed a paper comparing Santa Claus to Jesus Christ, from the origins through to how they were each relevant to current society.

"The beginning of winter is such a bleak time," she had reasoned, "everybody needs hope then -- whether through a virgin birth, or shiny new gifts delivered by a magic elf."

I pointed out to her then how ambitious this thesis was, and that grounding it in literature, not just Christmas traditions, would be a challenge. She had shaken the blonde mane furiously at that comment, but just before the due date at the end of November, she had arrived again during office hours, begging for more time.

"There is so much to do, and I have two other papers plus a couple of exams. If I could just have until the week after exams, I could do a better job. I need an A on this course to graduate with honours and get into my grad program."

On that visit, I had noticed that instead of the baggy sweatshirt that obscured what was obviously a generous chest, plus drooped down to conceal even a hint of her ass, she wore a blue sheer lacy shirt that buttoned up the front, and could have used one or two more buttons done up if she had wanted to conceal her red bra's fancy trim. I had tried really hard not to stare at her abundant cleavage, and focussed on her dazzling green eyes, also avoiding confirming whether the tightness of her jeans might show camel toe. She had given me little choice but to confirm that her backside truly was awe inspiring as she had hung her jacket up on my coat tree, unlike most students who kept them on or shrugged them off in my guest chair.

Of course I gave her two extra weeks, running up tight against the end of exams, just shy of the drop dead date to submit grades. Almost as tight as that ass, almost as drop dead as her looks.

And now here she was, with yet another excuse why her paper was not ready. This time, she had caught me halfway still dressed in the Santa suit I had worn for our office party, lacking just the stuffing, the jacket half buttoned - though I had the white hair and beard to play Santa without help, I lacked the round belly. I had just popped back to my office to straighten my desk and pack up a few papers that needed marking before heading home. But, it was technically office hours, so I had to hear her out.

"I have to submit your grade four days from now," I explained. "It looks like you might get an incomplete."

"I'm telling the truth, my computer fried."

"What does that have to do with Santa?"

"My room mate's boyfriend dressed up as Santa for our term end party. It was him who puked all over my laptop, damaging it beyond any fast repair."

"What about a back up?"

"That's the 'ate my homework' part. I had a printed copy, plus one on a memory stick. His puke got all over the paper. But the weird part, so strange that you gotta know it is true, is that for some reason, he decided to chew on the memory stick. Asshole. I could bring you the paper copy, but it really smells."

"Surely there are inner pages he didn't pollute that I could review, try to give you some sort of grade."

"But I need that A, not just some sort of grade."

"I need to see that you did the work."

"What if not enough survived for you to see I deserve an A?"

She squirmed in the seat. Her sweater puppies bounced under her Santa themed pullover. They truly were magnificent. The motion suggested that today she was braless.

There it was. The offer to violate every policy about interactions between students and faculty. As usual, I had told her not to close the office door, but this close to the holidays, most of my colleagues were at home marking. The few present in the office likely had their doors shut for privacy as they raced to meet the deadline and start their holiday.

Still, she had set the trap perfectly, dropping the hint without being explicit. It would be up to me to solicit her. If anybody over heard, my career would be over.

She must have sensed my hesitation meant that she had me hooked. Now she just had to set the hook and reel me in. Her next move accomplished the setting the hook part, as she shrugged her sweater off.

"Warm in here isn't it? You'd think a week before winter officially begins, the old boiler would be gasping to get the steam up to this floor, but for some reason, I'm really....hot."

'I bet you are...' I thought as I watched her pause along the way to tease me, holding the hem just below her tits. For that second or three I wondered whether she would be topless once the sweater was gone, but once she tossed it over onto a pile of old books stacked next to her chair, I saw that she still wore a T-shirt. Consistent with her sweater, it was Christmas themed, but instead of Santa, or even his reindeer, this shirt was adorned with a picture of mistletoe pointing down. If the implication was unclear, underneath was a down arrow and the words "kiss me here".

I chuckled at the tease. The arrow also had the benefit of drawing my eyes down so that I was not staring at her nipples, which poked out under the thin fabric, threatening to rip it and pop free. I quickly realized that staring at her crotch was just as bad, and quickly forced my gaze to meet hers.

"You seem to be anxious for the holidays to arrive." I tried to digress until my blood exited my tumescent cock enough to reactivate my brain so that I could extract myself from the situation.

Except the little brain in my pants was insisting that I did not really want to avoid the seemingly inevitable.

"Trying to cheer myself up. I love Santa Claus- the whole sexy older man image- and of course, I love to be kissed."

Her eyes flashed downward, as if to acknowledge just what she wanted to have kissed.

"Or maybe you've been partying to hard and didn't do a good job on your paper?"

"Look if you want me to go back to my apartment and retrieve the stinky pages, I can show you..."

Her green eyes flashed anger. Or lust, it was hard to tell. I found myself starting to drown in that unusual shade. My cock throbbed. A shudder raced up my spine, exploding my senses.

The thought of going with her to that apartment flooded my brain, but she had mentioned a room mate, and even if she was out, no doubt this young woman lived in some sort of student ghetto, where I just could not be seen. I sat there, searching for a response while my cock screamed a me to move things along.

I finally thought of a response.

"So you want me to be like Santa and give you a gift?"

I only sputtered a bit as I spoke, but at least the comment would not get me into trouble if it was overheard.

"Well, you are dressed like him... I mean, you aren't as fat, but the white hair and beard do make you look jolly..."

"Ho, ho, ho..."

The words came out of my mouth before I even knew I was going to say them. My little brain seemed to be doing all my thinking.

"Well, no, I'm not a 'ho'..." she responded. "Maybe I've been naughty though..."

Was it just wishful thinking, or were her nipples stiffer than a moment ago?

If she had been wearing a button front shirt like the prior meeting, I would have tried to will her to undo another button, or all off them, slowly, one at a time, or maybe just have the button burst from the swelling of her tits, but under the goofy T-shirt, I could only admire the way they moved with her breathing.

"I'd say I deserve a lump of coal in my stocking but I don't wear stockings..."

"I think that refers to what we now call socks," I digressed, doing my best not to think about how great her legs looked in the Fall. Before the weather had demanded that she dig out the baggy trousers, she had worn nothing but skirts that stared out just above the knee. Perfectly chaste and unremarkable like her usual slacks, except for the way that in our seminars, the hemline would sneak up, gradually revealing more thigh.

"You wear socks."

"Just since Socktober," she giggled. "Mostly knee socks, like when I was in high school and had to wear them with my uniform. I always thought those uniforms were likely a bigger turn on to the dirty old men than if we wore our normal clothes, don't you?"

"What's that got to do with Santa Claus?" I managed to sputter, worried abut the sound travelling out my open door, but unable to stop images of her shapely gams from flooding my mind.

"Oh, is this an ORAL exam, on the subject of my paper?" she asked. The emphasis on the word 'oral' robbed the remark of any pretense of innocence. If anybody was listening, her offer was undeniable. All that I could hope for was to keep my replies innocent, to change the subject, to keep my job. My throbbing meat had different desires.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered.

"Yes, that's the other part of my thesis all right. Though I have to admit, writing about Jesus without getting turned on is much easier than the parts about Santa. So perhaps the myths aren't that similar after all."

"Why does a myth about a jolly old elf arouse you?" It was a risky question, right on the borderline of appropriate. Probably on the wrong side of that line, to tell the truth. But too late, I had said it. If the morality police burst in, I would claim to be conducting a review to ensure that her thought process was sufficiently advance to prove she had done the work. Unless my hard cock ripped its way past my zipper first.

"Unlike the Christ story, with all its nattering on about virgin birth, Santa invades people's homes. Oh sure, we pretend he is invited, but that Santa sack is full of swag, just like a robber. I think maybe in return for the gifts, he takes things."

My balls pulled tight against my taint at the word 'virgin', though surely she was no innocent. But I was hungry to find out for sure.

"What sort of things?"

"Virginity. Fidelity."

There was that word again. My blood raced from my big brain to my small brain.

"But only children believe in Santa, they aren't sexual creatures."

"Children aren't the ones who keep the myth alive. It's the grown ups who do that. And just consider all the Santa porn out there. That is all about adult fantasies."

"Did you research much porn for your paper?"

"It went a bit beyond research. I discovered what I really liked, and went down that hole into a dark dark place."

"What sort of place?"

"Well, let's just say that in MY fantasies, Santa ate more than just my homework. More than milk and cookies even."

"That is hardly appropriate for an academic paper, but doesn't really deserve the description 'dark'. Milton wrote much bleaker images."

I grinned, pleased that I could carry out an academic debate while my hand itched to reach down and caress my erection. My lips screamed to suckle her nipple, which was undeniably bigger since we had started down this path.

"Remember I said that I'm a naughty girl? Well, what really got me off was videos of Santa eating out women's coal chutes, not their chimneys." She chuckled. "Pretty good symbolism, no? Worth an A?"

Her arm moved as she spoke, her palm rubbing her belly, working down to where the arrow pointed.

"I especially liked videos in which the girls looked like me- early twenties, short blonde hair, tight bodies with tits just a bit bigger than you might expect from their frame."

Her arm moved upward smoothly and swiftly. She cupped the underside of one breast and hefted it as she described the look that turned her on. Her hand fell to her thigh so quickly that I was almost not sure that I had seen what I knew I had. At least she had not flicked her nipple. If she had, my great gobs of goo might have exploded into my pants.

"I love the contrast of the older Santa with the young woman." She continued calmly, as if describing a thesis proposal. "I like it when he sprays his gift all over her face, her tits. But I also like the shots when the ooze is dripping out of her cunt."

She said all this while my door was still open. I was feeling panicked.

"That much detail is not necessary to demonstrate your research and knowledge," I spoke as sternly as I could manage, my eyes finally tracking away from her body, trying to remind her that the door was open.

"I can see why they must always be after you to play Santa in the faculty Christmas parties. Though your tummy would need a pillow or two."

"You can stop this nonsense. I will give you the extension."

"But what about the A?"

"I still need to read a finished paper. I suggest you go home, retrieve those odoriferous pages, and retype a masterpiece. You have obviously given this a lot of thought."

"Oh, yes I have."

Her voice had just dropped an octave, down to sexy and sultry. Totally inappropriate student-professor territory, though the words themselves could pass as proper.

"Then we have an understanding?" I tried once more to extract myself from the doom that awaited if anybody was listening.

'No you do NOT!' my balls screamed inside my mind.

She must have heard that inner protest, or perhaps she noticed how I could barely breathe, and how hard my cock had become. She chose to take my comment in a dangerous direction.

"I understand that with the holidays being so close, none of your fellow profs are in their offices today. Your receptionist even mentioned that I was lucky you were in, being the only one here. And I understand that I will do ANYTHING to get my A. What do you understand?"

Her tongue licked her lower lip in a way that made my manhood jerk in my pants again.

"I understand that I could lose my tenure for taking advantage of a student."

She rolled her eyes. I had thought this only happened in fiction, but she proved me wrong.

"I graduate next semester. I have better things to do than cause trouble."

Just then I heard footsteps in the hall. We both sat quietly. There was a knock on the half open door and then our shared staff person poked her head around the door. Her head was covered by an elf cap, and I could make out some sort of costume on her body.

"The Chair said I could leave early to go to my granddaughter's school pageant. Will you be okay, Doctor?"

"Just wrapping up here."

"Okay, well, you are the last one left. And I'm off tomorrow, so I will enter grades next week. If I don't see you then, have a happy holiday."

She grinned at me, with no hint of a wink or leer. Her footsteps retreated down the hall. I heard the sound of the door to the stairs open and close. That left me and my student alone on the floor, and perhaps in the building.

"Would you like to exchange gifts now?" she asked.

Without waiting for my reply, she lifted her shirt, giving me a quick glimpse of two perfect young tits, topped by nipples the shade of cranberries. Just as swiftly, she lowered it again, and giggled.

"You should see your eyes just then," she teased."Don't worry, you can see them again. I just didn't want to lose the mistletoe just yet."

She stood up and closed my door. Finally.

"Santa, I've been a very naughty girl this semester. Can you teach me to be nice?"

She undid the button at her waist. Her fingers lingered at the zipper. I stared back dumbfounded. In couple of decades of teaching, no student had offered me such a gift.

"Is that a lump of coal in your pants? I don't have a stocking, but then you haven't come down my chimney. I guess you'll just have to stuff it in my ass after you eat my cookie."

"Come sit on Professor Santa's lap," I heard myself say before I fully realized that I was about to play along.

She pirouetted, offering me a tantalizing glimpse at a well toned ass previously buried under her typical baggy pants. She then closed my office door. The 'click' echoed in the silent room, with no background clatter from outside.

"Just in case someone comes to retrieve a book or something," she explained.

I just nodded. My cock throbbed under her gaze as she took the three small steps to cover the distance of my modest office.

"Oh, Professor Santa, is that for me? Can I unwrap it before I sit down?"

Without waiting for a response, she fell to her knees.

"Do you mind if I taste your candy cane first, Professor Santa?"

I just groaned.

She opened my zipper.

I managed a "Ho, ho, ho."

"I'm no ho," she giggled. "Just a girl unwrapping her gift."

She fished my cock free. It popped up proudly, the slit winking at her.

"Dang, Professor Santa, this is impressive. If I tell my friends, they'll all want a piece of this."

"You can't tell anyone." I gasped as my already tumescent member grew in her fist.

"You're right. I should keep this for myself."

She licked my tip while teasing my scrotum. I ran my fingers through her silky hair. Her tongue wrapped around my shaft, licking all around it from root to the rim under my helmet, then took the head in her cheek. As she sucked, her tongue circled around the rim, and her teeth teased the flap of skin that connected from the bulb to the underside of the shaft. That made me groan some more, which I followed up by another "Ho, ho."

All that I wanted to do was hold her head there until I blew my load in her mouth, but I knew that this might be my only chance with her, and I wanted more. At my age, if I exploded, she might not get me hard enough to fuck her ass, even with an interlude while I ate her cunt.

Trying to use a couple of handfuls of her hair to gently nudge her back and give her the hint did no good. She just continued to apply her considerable talents, closing her lips around my shaft to create a near vacuum, which produced an audible "pop" when she drew her head up and released me from her mouth. When she followed up by tickling my frenulum with her tongue, a spurt of juice blasted the back of her throat.

"Um... don't you want to save some of that for later?" I asked.

She stopped sucking and looked up at me, her eyes dancing with excitement, just like a little kid at Christmas.

"Later? As in later after..."

"After I kiss what that mistletoe is aimed at, Ho ho, ho..."

That made her giggle and she hopped up on to the edge of my desk without looking in that smooth unthinking way that only the young enjoy. Just before that perfect ass hit the wood, she nudged the pants off her hips. They fell into a puddle on the floor. I discovered that she had come prepared- braless probably, as I surmised, but now revealed to definitely be without panties.

"Oh, Professor Santa, I'm sorry, I already unwrapped your present." she giggled, reading my mind.