tagErotic CouplingsOral Exam Ch. 06

Oral Exam Ch. 06


Once again, thank you for the comments and the feedback. You guys have really motivated me to jot my thoughts down. A special thank you goes out to Rockcrawler Company for the wonderful words of encouragement. If you haven't read the first five stories you might want to start there. Feel free to send me your thoughts. I will respond. Don't forget to vote. Enjoy.

Another night, another fuck. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but why? How had this become my life? When had I become some sort of super-ultra-mega-stud that secreted Spanish fly? In high school and college I had dated my fair share of girls. There had been a couple of long term – and very monogamous – relationships that resulted in some sexual play. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. My time as a Master's student, out on the East Coast, had been erotic wasteland; it was a good thing my hand still liked me, because I wasn't getting any action from anywhere else. When I started my Ph.D., things began to look up. I had two brief flings with my fellow grad students (Sarah and Gwen respectively), but both affairs ran their course and petered out. I had been celibate for about a year, a fate to which I had grown eerily accustomed. Life had grown easy, without worrying about the sexual chase. Without those gnawing relationship worries, I could focus on studying, writing, and teaching. But that was the rub: when I wasn't looking the teaching reached up and bit me in the ass. Or maybe it was really a spanking. I don't know. Whatever it was, I liked it – and I had Jessica to blame.

Jessica: my 18-year old college cutie, my wayward nymph, and my very own special super-slut. She was the kind of sexual diva that I could not have suspected that I would ever carnally know. She was a fantasy made real by a simple grade negotiation; she would suck my cock and I would give her a good grade. Done and done. But the real conundrum was that she didn't leave. Instead, she brought me over to her dorm room and demanded that I fuck her again. And then fuck her roommate. And a couple of days later fuck some mystery friend too. Somehow, along the way, I also got a random hand job and screwed my Ph.D. advisor in her office. Life was certainly strange, but pretty darn wonderful too.

So there I lay in bed, thinking about Jessica and my new found access to pussy. Tomorrow I had several classes, one of which was with Dr. Jen Endicott, my Ph.D. advisor. That encounter would probably be a little awkward, considering how she demanded Saturday evening that I skull-fuck her with my cock. I am not sure if her thoughts on feminist criticism in class tomorrow would ring as true as usual. The question that was really eating at me, though, was the identity of the woman I had fucked earlier in the evening.

After Jessica took the ridiculous hat / blindfold off my head, she told me that she needed to go. We came together for a single, lingering kiss that melted me inside. I asked her to spend the night with me, but she begged off citing that she had important rush activities that needed her attention. So we parted ways. I went home, did some mindless preparations for my classes the next day, and went to bed. And there I lay with my thoughts.

Slowly my eyelids grew heavier and I drifted off to an uneasy world of dreams. It was one of those nights where my sleep time was a series of flashes, each jarring and vivid in their own way. Images of naked female flesh circulated through my dream vision, causing me to wake up in sweats. When finally I fell asleep for good, the alarm rang. I was not ready to face a new day. I was exhausted from the fleeting ephemera of luxurious sex that had romped seductively through my mind.

After my morning routine, I went up to my office. The crisp morning air was revitalizing. I opened the window, and slowly the lingering after-shocks of the night began to recede. I examined my planner and got ready for the three classes I had to attend that day.

With ten minutes to spare, I heard a light rap on the door. I turned around and saw my fellow grad student – and friend – Sarah. She had been nice enough to cover my classes the day before. Sarah was wearing a ribbed, magenta shirt and tight black dress pants. She looked a little taller than usual, at about 5'8," because of the high-heeled, black leather boots she was sporting (I remember Sarah bragging that she got them for a steal on Ebay a few weeks ago). A new-agey, crystal, astrology necklace dangled from her neck, weighing down and defining a cleft between her spectacular breasts. Her black, horn-rimmed glasses gave her an ultra-cute, Lisa Loeb kind of look. Her feathered, chestnut hair capped off an amazing look. It was not hard to tell that Sarah was smart, sexy, and very well put together.

"Hey dude, you ready for class?" I have never figured out Sarah's idiom. For some reason she calls everyone dude, and when she does her voice takes on a comical deep, pseudo-surfer tone. Strangely enough, she grew up in Ohio.

"Yeah, Sarah. Let me just pack everything up. I don't know how I can mess up my desk so quickly. How are you doing?

"Pretty good. Life's busy, but when isn't it? We have those papers that are coming due. I'm pretty far along, but it would be great to have some more time to procrastinate. How 'bout you, dude? Did you get the work done you needed to yesterday? You sounded like you were on quite a roll."

I smiled and answered, "Yeah I did. Thanks for the help. It was nice to have the entire day yesterday to focus on Stephano's paper. Did my classes give you any trouble, yesterday?"

When I spoke them, my words were completely innocent. I wasn't thinking about the phone conversation that had taken place between Jessica and I last night. As soon as I said them, though, Sarah's face broke into a deep scarlet blush – and then I remembered. "What?" I said, my voice dripping with false sincerity.

Sarah looked around and poked her head outside in the hallway. She looked left then right, and didn't spy anyone. Not taking any chances, though, she entered the room and closed my office door. She then sat down and scrutinized my face. It was clear that she wasn't sure if she could trust me. I just stared blankly and signaled that she should start talking.

Her mouth opened twice before any sound came out. But then she whispered conspiratorially, "Dude, one of your students flashed me yesterday!"

I decided to play dumb. "What?! Who was he? We need to report him immediately."

"Ummmmn, no," Sarah said looking a little green. "It was a girl."


"Yeah. She sat in the back row. Blonde, all-American type. She and her friend were wearing matching skirts and tank tops. She was practically spilling out of her shirt. Anyway, she had been looking at me strangely all class. I was up there, behind the podium, describing the visualization step when looked right at me and spread her legs. It was like that Sharon Stone scene from Basic Instinct. And she wasn't wearing any underwear at all!"

"Really?" I gasped.

"No shit, dude!" Sarah exclaimed, getting caught up in the moment. "She was right there looking at me dead-on with her puss all spread open. It was like she was daring me to stare right back at her."

"So did you?"

Sarah got all red again before she answered, "For a moment, and then I forgot where I was. It's like everything just broke down. So, I let class go a little early. Sorry about that."

I smiled and then responded, "Damn! That sounds like you just described Jessica something. I forget her last name. Wow! Why did I choose to skip teaching my class yesterday? It figures, you get all the luck. You get to ogle a girl's crotch and I get to write a paper. Where's the justice?"

Sarah reached over and lightly punched me on the arm. "Jerk. You aren't supposed to want to see them naked. They're your students. They're your responsibility. Besides, they're just eighteen."

"I suppose," I said, with what must have been a big, sheepish grin on my face. I could picture the moment perfectly. It played out in my head: Sarah would be teaching, Jessica opened her legs, and Sarah got a first-class view of Jessica's shaven, little coochie. "So, did you like her shave job?"

"Shave job? I didn't say anything...." Sarah's voice trailed off as I realized that I had given myself away. Instead, she looked at me, staring into my eyes rather intensely. I could feel the heat of her look boring into me, searching for what I knew. Sarah spoke again, "You've seen her before, haven't you? This wasn't the first time that wench showed herself off, was it?"

Now I was on the defensive. I had to think fast. How much did I want Sarah to know? Could I trust her with my secret? Should I try to make this a voyeur / exhibitionist thing, or should I give her the full scoop? There were no easy answers here. I wanted to gain Sarah's trust. I didn't want her to think I was some sketchy perv that molested his students. On the other hand, I didn't want her to read me and know I was lying – a truly dangerous possibility if Sarah were to get self-righteous with me. She could then get even angrier. But was that possible?

"No Sarah, it wasn't," I confessed. "I've seen her too. She's done the same thing to me in class as well. I guess she likes showing off"

Sarah was really looking at me, holding my eye contact. Every word she spoke, she chose with careful consideration, "Is that all? Is there anymore? Did anything else happen? You can get in major trouble for this stuff."

I responded with more intensity than I had intended to, "Jesus, Sarah don't you think I know that? This is huge, absolutely huge! This is my life here, and it could all go South in an instant. Whether I did or didn't do anything is irrelevant – the mere allegation of impropriety is enough to get me tossed out of here." The words were coming like a torrent. I had been thinking them for so long, that I couldn't stop them once they started. "My grades don't matter, my evals don't matter, nothing matters if this gets out. Please don't say anything."

"But did you do anything?"

"Do you really want to know the answer?" I looked at Sarah, searching her face for understanding. "Will it make any difference?"

"To me it will. Can you talk to me? Look, I am your friend. I understand and I won't judge. You need to say it, and you can trust me. Did anything happen between you and Jessica?"

Everything was very still. I could hear the hum of the florescent lights as I searched my brain for the proper words.

"Yes. Jessica and I have had," I gulped as I completed the sentence, "sex. It started a few weeks ago and has happened a few times since then. It wasn't something I sought out, and it was not something I looked for from other students." It was probably best to keep all of my other extra-curriculars on the down-low.

Sarah's mouth hung open in shock. Clearly, she had not expected me to answer as I did. Sarah shifted in her chair, stood up, and went to the door. She spoke as she opened it. "Ummm, gee. Thanks for being so candid. I got to go get my books. We are late for class." With that she turned on her heels, and practically ran down the corridor.

Shit! That was dumb. Why did I open my mouth?

My first two classes were pretty typical. Professor Ferguson spent the time sidetracked by useless minutia, while Professor Stephano worked his way through a dizzying array of pre-made overhead transparencies. Sarah, who normally sat next to me in Ferguson's class, instead took a seat at the opposite end of the room. Every time I tried to make eye contact she looked away and buried her head in her notes. Damn! At the end of class Sarah bolted out the door, before I had even gathered my things together. Clearly, Sarah did not take the news well. I had no idea how to handle this time bomb situation

After my two classes, I needed a little air. I headed outside to the quad, and parked myself at a bench under a tree. The chill air had shaken off most of the leaves, but somehow it felt more comforting – sheltering – to sit under the tree's sprawling branches. I opened a book and pulled out a highlighter, but I knew reading was going to be impossible. My mind was still reeling from the conversation with Sarah and of all of its future implications.

But another thought was creeping into my mind, playing itself out. From my vantage I could look out over the quad. A constant stream of students – coeds! – passed in front of me. They walked, bundled against the brisk air, from building to building unaware of my lingering eye. I covertly started, gazing at each one, trying to discern the mystery of their identity. Which one was it? Had I seen her yet today? Where was she? Which one had I known intimately – carnally? Who had held me in her mouth, sucking my bulbous head with delight? Which of these delectable teens had pulled aside her panties and squatted on my cock? Whose pussy had been wrapped around my cock? Who had moaned as I shot cum up inside of her twitching cunt? Everywhere I looked I saw question marks, possibilities of what may have been. While Jessica was right (the mystery was a definite turn-on), the lack of knowledge was also a devious form of torture. But what exquisite torture!

How pathetic I am! I might be busted beyond all repair, and yet all I could think about was my sexual conquests. Damn, I had to get out of this pussy haze. I needed to get going, though. I had frittered my time away staring at the undulating mass of college women crossing the quad. Now I needed to go to class. This time, though, Professor Jen Endicott was the course instructor.

I walked into the classroom and coolly plopped down in my usual seat. While I tried not to notice, Jen looked absolutely amazing today. She was wearing a gray skirt, cut just above the knee, and a turtleneck, black sweater. A thin, gold necklace accented the dark colors perfectly. When she saw me sitting down, she smiled. It was warm, open, and inviting – but absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. I smiled back, broke eye contact, and shuffled through my notes. This would be easy, she had let our congress go.

Jen launched into her lecture on post-modern feminism. As usual, she was completely captivating. I thought, not for the first time, this is why I am in grad school – to learn from teachers like this. I picked up my pen and started writing. My notes quickly filled the page, and all too soon she dismissed the class.

I picked up my stuff, and piled everything into my attaché case. I was nearly out the door when I heard Jen say, "Could you hold up just a minute? I was going over some things for your dissertation and I would like to talk to you about them? Do you have a few minutes?"

"Sure, I can talk."

"Good, let's head up to my office."

Together we walked out of the classroom, down the hall, and up a flight of stairs. She walked ahead of me, giving me a great view of her ass. It was toned, rounded, and firm beneath her silky gray skirt. I wanted to reach out, grab it, and perhaps bury my face in it. I would love to spend hours sucking at her beautiful little starfish, her luscious, puckered asshole. It was surely musky and delicious. Those thoughts needed to be banished, however, because this sounded purely like a business meeting. Besides, who knows who might be watching.

We got to Jen's door, which she unlocked with her key. Swinging it open, she ushered me inside. From there, she quickly closed the door again and said to me in a low whisper, "God, I want to fuck you." What a change! She had transformed from business-like professor to seductively, horny vixen in a matter of seconds.

She raised up her skirt and hooked her fingers in the waistband of a pair of black, t-backed panties. Wiggling her fingers around, she gave me a smoky look and said, "Do you like these? Would you like to taste them?" I nodded, dumbly. Jen cupped her pussy, rubbing her snatch against the silky material. A dark spot of moisture formed at her crotch. Satisfied with the results, Jen slowly pulled the sheer panties down her smooth, slender legs and then stepped out of them. Jen turned around and bent over at the waist. The lovely, swollen folds of her pussy were there for my inspection and gaze. A glint of moisture beckoned me to take in her delectable pink hole. I couldn't wait to bury my cock into that gorgeous cunt. Jen picked her panties up off the floor and crumpled them into ball. She lewdly grinned as she caught my eyes lingering at her sex. She rubbed her undergarments over her pussy one more, saturating them with her cunt-juice. I could smell them - her musk was potent – as she held them up to my face. "Open wide," she said before stuffing her underwear into my mouth.

Jen pushed me against a wall, and began to peck at my neck with rabid kisses. We were both feverish with lust. She was pressed against me, grinding my body to hers. I could taste her delicious arousal on the makeshift gag she had made with her panties. It was potent and sweet; I knew that I would soon have to go back and drink her juice directly from the source. But later. One of her hands reached around and groped my ass. Her other hand hungrily dug into my crotch. She grabbed the length of my dick through my jeans and slid her fingers downward. "Mmmmmm, I love cock," Jen moaned as she traced the shaft and authoritatively cupped my balls. My own hands were not idle. I pulled her to me, and smacked her lightly on the butt. She squealed girlishly, got down on her knees, and then unzipped my fly.

Jen reached inside my pants and pulled out my cock, as she said, "I want to suck you. I want to feel your throbbing man meat at the back of my throat. Your cock is so yummy, so good." It was not yet hard, but with words like that I knew things would soon change. My professor would see to that. I was completely exposed. My dick was protruding from my pants, dangling slightly from the hole of my zipper. Jen's gripped my dick firmly by the hilt and brought it toward her waiting mouth. She was clearly not in the mood for play; instead, she threw herself on my pole, gobbling down my throbbing meat with zeal. She took me as deeply as she could. My raging dong pummeled the back of her throat. I could hear her gag and then gasp for air. My dick was now shiny with her spit. Her tongue swirled round the head of the tip, twirling the long strands of spittle draining onto my cock. She slurped, nibbled, and licked, inhaling my length in slutty fervor.

I marveled at what seemed to be Jen's deep-seated love for rough blowjobs. I couldn't believe that fifteen minutes ago she had been on a furious rant about the male patriarchy and its dominance over women. Now she was on her knees worshipping my male organ, like a fucking whore. Her head bobbed back and forth sending trails of saliva flying. Her mouth formed a surrogate cunt for my cock to fuck, but she was doing the fucking. I simply stood there, hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair, as she kept throwing herself onto my dick.

I was now rock hard, my erection throbbing. She pulled me from her mouth and gave me a final lick. Jen stood up, grabbed me by the collar, and threw me onto her swiveling, office chair. I am sure that I looked ridiculous with my dork sticking rigidly up from my jeans, a dopey smile on my face, and a pair of black panties dangling from my mouth. No matter. My professor hiked up her skirt and let it bunch at the waist. From there she squatted down and straddled me. Her hand reached into my lap and lined my cock with her cunt. She was wet - soaking; I could feel the moisture on her soft outer lips coating the tip of my cock.

Jen looked at me, piercing me with her brilliant eyes, and moaned softly, "I am going to fuck you. I am going to fuck you hard and fast and you are going to cum inside me. You are going to fill my hot, wet pussy with your sticky cum." Jen thrust herself down onto my length. I was encased in her warm, pink, hole. Once again, I was inside my professor. I had not intended for this to happen again, but somehow it did. My professor was sitting on my lap, with my cock buried deep in her snatch.

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