Dave couldn't keep his eyes off the blonde in the tennis dress. She sat in the second row and she was lovely in a fresh, almost fragile way. Her face was delicately carved and framed by aristocratically waving golden hair. It was hard as hell to keep plugging at a lecture on the culture of ancient Egypt when his eyes kept focusing on that face-and even more difficult when he let his eyes drift casually across the body so charmingly revealed in her skimpy summery outfit.
The top buttoned modestly, all the way to the neck, but the fabric was white and thin and made no effort at all to conceal the beautiful curves of the girl's small, high-set tits, leaving it abundantly clear to the observer that the nipples crowning those tits were pink and perky, and that the support of a bra was something totally unnecessary to show her at her best. And the hem of the skirt fought a losing battle with a pair of pink bikini panties, scandalously skimpy and really deserving of the display they were getting. Every time she moved so languidly as she took her notes, crossing and uncrossing her legs, the bottom of her short skirt rose, and Dave was becoming very well acquainted with those tiny little panties.
He wished he knew their wearer as well, but alas-such was not the case. This was freshman history, World Civilization 110, and it numbered at least eighty students. To make matters worse, Dave had three more classes just like this one. He was in his first year of teaching at State University-indeed, this was his first semester-and all the faces before him tended to blur together into one heterogeneous mass. He could recall individuals who had done well or poorly in the first exam, just completed, but he couldn't tie one of those names to a specific face.
Not least among the problems Dave had to face was his total inexperience with the technique of delivering a professional, competent lecture while trying to look up the dress of a pretty student. Some day when he had nothing better to do he would ask one of the older professors for pointers on that. Some day. Not now.
The bell rang, punctuating his lecture In mid-sentence. He finished his point, shouting above the clamor of students gathering up their possessions and ready to desert him, then turned and, first one out the door, started down the hail at a brisk clip. He had office hours now, in case anyone wanted to talk to him.
Dave closed the door of his office behind him, sat down at his desk, shuffled aside the litter of books that covered it, and lit a cigarette. Into the space he had cleared he placed the new American Historical Review, opening it to skim over the book reviews. There was a knock at his door, and he said "Come in," without turning.
"Professor Shearing," said a voice behind him.
"It's Mister Shearing," Dave corrected, beginning to turn. "I'm not a professor yet." And his eyes lit upon a pair of slim shapely feet in open sandals, drifted up subtly tanned thighs and calves to the high-rising hem of a short white tennis dress, and sped upward to make contact with the eyes of the lovely blonde from the class just dismissed.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said with a fetching smile, "but my name is Becky Ryan, and I'm in your 1:30 class, and I wanted to ask you-"
"Of course," he interrupted, "Miss Ryan." He flashed an instant memory of a well-done exam paper signed "Ryan, Rebecca M." and life fell pleasantly into place. No longer was this girl the knockout piece in the second row. She was Miss Ryan, and consequently a person who could be categorized and recognized. "You had an excellent exam," he added, thinking, God, not only is she beautiful-she's also smart.
"Thank you," she said. "I wanted to ask you about your lecture today." She shifted from one foot to another, tennis racket under one arm, and Dave thought himself slowly being hypnotized as he studied the alternating positions of her breasts, pink-splotched and definite under the translucent top of her dress.
He weighed and dismissed the odds in favor of his making a successful grab for those fits right now. "Something you didn't understand?" he said, after what ho realized instantly was a very long pause.
"Oh, no," she replied. "Nothing like that. Your lectures are very clear and understandable. I just wondered where I might find out some more about ancient Egypt. You know, about how the people lived? Maybe you could tell me the names of some books and I could hunt them up in the library."
"I'll go you one better than that," Dave smiled. He turned round in his chair and began to shuffle through the piled up books and papers on his deck. Three or four books were selected and he laid them out before him. There was a tiny tapping behind his back and sudden intense body heat glowed near him. And he looked through the books, flipping pages, the heat increased, and his shoulder felt the presence of Miss Ryan, leaning over it to look at the books with him. Unfettered tit points touched his back and loose strands of her golden hair teased his cheek.
Dave cleared his throat uneasily. The fight-muscled lithe perfection of her slim body, so tantalizingly near him, was making his heart beat faster and his face turn just a little red, embarrassed at the ideas that suddenly coursed through his brain. "These are what you want, I think," he stammered, acutely aware of the gentle press of her nipples against him.
She reached across his shoulder to take the books, and her tits lay heavily on him for just a second. He felt their young vibrant warmth, wanted to take them in his hands, squeeze their pliant little mounds, taste the salty freshness of their pink tips. Then the contact broke and he knew she had put the books under her arm. The sound of her shoes advised him further that she was on her way out.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Shearing," she said softly. "I'll take very good care of your books and get them back to you as soon as I can." Her hand was on the door knob.
"Ah," he began, not wanting to part with her but unsure as to how he could keep her with him. "Is that the new style in classroom dress, by the way?"
"Oh!" she smiled. "I'm really sorry. See, I have this date to play tennis and I don't want to be late. So I wore it to class. Do you think I shouldn't have?"
Of course not, he wanted to tell her. If you hadn't, I might never have seen those little strands of cunt hair peeking out your panty legs, might never have known you were nearly as blonde on bottom as on top. That I wouldn't have missed for the world! "It's really very becoming," he smiled, and the reassured grin she gave him brightened the whole day for Dave. Then she was gone, leaving him with the memory of the passing touch of her fine tits. Somehow, Dave sighed, the American Historical Review couldn't begin to compete with Becky Ryan's A-OK body.
Dave was just cooking supper the next evening when the doorbell rang. He turned down the heat on his electric wok and scuttered through the kitchen, into the living room, to the door. "Yes," he said, flinging it open.
"HI," Becky said, sparking clean and pretty enough to eat, in a nearly transparent body shirt that revealed her pale blue bra in stunning outline. Her hips and crotch were covered by a pair of hot pants whose slick glossy stretch flattered, even more than nature had already done, the slim shapeliness of her. Long legs flashed bare and shining above her sneakered feet. "Oh," she went on, noting the preoccupied look on Dave's face as he drank her in. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No, not at all," he assured her. Remembering his manners he invited her inside. Vaguely, dreamily, he thought there had to be a school regulation against young luscious freshman girls' being Inside faculty members' living quarters without adequate chaperonage, but even if there were, he didn't give a damn!
"I didn't do anything wrong by coming over to your apartment, did I?" she asked very ingenuously, taking a chair and crossing one smooth shapely leg over another. "I only wanted to return your books, so I looked up your address in the school directory and came over."
"Give up on Egypt already?" he joked.
"Oh, no!" she said earnestly, leaning forward. "I read them both last night. They were just fascinating. I think ancient Egypt was such a lovely civilization."
He nodded with a smile. "It's one of my favorite periods, too." The aroma of beef and vegetables drifted out of the kitchen and sprang Dave back to reality. "Say," he went on, "I was just fixing some supper. Care to join me?"
She frowned slightly and he thought she was going to say no. "Well," she began, "I really-of course, I am kinda hungry," and a smile transformed her frown into purest natural beauty. "If you really want me to-"
"It's Chinese," he warned her. "One of my vices. Put me near a wok and some bean sprouts and a couple of water chestnuts, and I go wild. But nobody's ever gotten ptomaine from my Cantonese cooking yet."
And in a few minutes both of them were at his kitchen table, attacking beef and vegetables with chopsticks, sipping at cups of black tea. Afterwards Becky insisted on doing the dishes and Dave felt it was only fair for him to dry. When the cleaned utensils had been stacked away in the cupboard, the young instructor and his favorite student made their way back into the living room, where Dave prepared his second specialty of the house, what he claimed was the finest martini known to man. Becky sipped appreciatively at hers and they chatted awhile.
She accepted a second drink, then excused herself to go to the bathroom. Dave finished his drink while she was gone, and found himself wondering exactly what the hell had brought her over here tonight. After all, tomorrow was her class day with him, and she could have returned his books just as easily then. Did she have some ulterior motive?
He had just convinced himself that her visit was ordained by God himself as a reward to Dave for a life of selfless devotion to the needs of others when the bathroom door opened and Becky came to him.
His heart jumped a mile out of his body when he saw her. She stepped softly as a cat, feline indeed in her grace and slinky good looks, and she was lithe and naked to his eyes. Her only garment was a band of cloth about her hips-that, and a wig of long straight black hair that crowned her head, concealing her own natural golden locks. The jet of her newly donned tresses was in charming contrast to the now fully revealed golden redness of her pubic thatch, and Dave couldn't take his eyes from her as she strode across the room toward him.
"My God," he whispered, unable to look away from her breasts, totally captivated by the gentle rise and fall of the pink nips as she moved to him. There was not an ounce of flab on her perfectly constructed body, and her tall figure seen nude was something out of a wet dream. Five feet seven inches of classic beauty, with the figure of a ballerina or a haute couture model. He blinked again and again, unable to believe.
She knelt at his feet, her head touching his trembling knees. "I got the idea from your books on ancient Egypt," she smiled up at him. "At the court of the Pharaohs the serving maids dressed just like This." Her hand touched lightly the band around her waist. It rode along her lower belly, touched hesitantly the very top of her golden beaver, and covered only the very pinnacle of her anal cleavage. "I made this myself, just this morning. It isn't exactly like the ones the Egyptian girls wore, but it's pretty close."
"I love it," he said slowly. "I love the hell out of it."
Becky stood up, her firm young breasts wobbling not at all. "Would you like another drink?" she asked. "A servant girl is supposed to serve."
He couldn't speak. With a smile she walked to the bar and picked up the pitcher of martinis he had fixed. Holding it directly in front of her high young mounds she stepped slowly toward him. Dave held up his glass to her, but she spurned it.
"Don't you want to test the drink before you commit yourself to it?" she teased, and instantly she lowered the pitcher slightly and leaned forward to let one pink tit dip into the colorless liquid. Drops of wetness clung to the point of her breast.
Dave gulped once as she came nearer and nearer him, then her hand had placed itself on the undercurve of that tempting young tit and the point of it was being guided into his mouth. He opened his lips to take it in, and he could taste the stimulating flavor of his special martini recipe, but at the same time he was overwhelmingly aware of the unique woman tang that was Becky's own contribution. His mouth fastened like a leech upon the breast that was offered him, and he sucked it dry. Long after he had absorbed every droplet of martini, he was still nursing at her little breast, sucking the nipple to stiff rubbery extension, smacking and slurping her creamy girl flesh.
The breast began to slide from his wet lips and he let it go regretfully. She stood back a little, just beyond his immediate grasp but not so far that he couldn't have seized her at once if he so wished. "How was that, Master?" she asked.
"Delicious," he chortled.
"Do you wish a drink, then?"
"Drink?" he mugged. "Oh. The drink was just fine, too. But what I want-" and he rose, his arms reaching for her. She smiled and he knew that all systems were "go."
Becky melted in his arms as soon as he had touched her, and her body sank against his with the consistency of melted butter. She flowed round him as they stood embracing, kissing, feeling. His hands cupped the cheeks of her ass, reveled in the perky springy feel of her, and pulled her closer, ever closer against him as he drank honey from her lips. Bare fits ground against his chest, and he could sense the hot anticipation of them even through the thin cloth of his shirt. Her long legs were wrapped sinuously round his own, pressing her cunt against him even tighter, tighter. And then her hands dove between them, fingers undoing his buttons. Without removing his lips from hers he arched his back to allow her room, and she soon had him unfastened. The shirt flew back, came off, fell to the floor unheeded. And then with regret they un-clasped for the moment while both applied themselves to the task of completing his undress.
Becky dropped to the floor and hurried to remove his shoes and socks while Dave unbuckled his belt and let his trousers slip. Before he could remove his shorts, she had jerked herself upward and laid her own strong slim fingers in the waistband of his undergarment. Scratching him ever so gently with her sharp nails she slid the shorts down his hips, down his legs, and off his feet, one at a time. Her head lay cuddled against the stiffness of his now fully risen cock, her chin just touching the eager sack of balls hanging from his crotch.
Her hand encircled his prick lovingly. She slid her fist up and down its length, smooth fingers rubbing delicately the tender flesh of his circumcised head. "So nice," she breathed, her warm exhalation curling Dave's pubic hair as it brushed across. He felt as if two inches had been added to his eight merely from her touch.
She held his cock in hand for a long moment, looking at it as though she had never seen one before. Her hand slowly moved along its length once more, then she bent it toward her face and aimed the slotted head toward her mouth. A pale violet tongue flicked from between her lips, darting toward Dave's penis. Contact was made. A shudder of delicious excitement ran through Dave as another and yet another tongue sortie brushed him. Her head moved nearer his organ, and she ran her tongue round the purple rim of his sizable corolla.
A droplet of colorless liquid formed in the slot of his cockpoint, oozing its way from the deepest areas of his excitation. Becky drew back a second, looked longingly at the telltale harbinger of a sperm cocktail for her, then licked it off clean as a frog taking a careless fly. Dave groaned meaningfully as her tongue brushed the ultrasensitive outlet of his peter, and he found himself trembling in the knees.
Becky's arm rested against his knee and she too felt the sudden jerkiness there. She pushed him back, step by step, and he found himself near enough the sofa to sit down once more. Gratefully be sank onto the soft cushioned seat, his cock pointing to the sky. Becky had come with him, and as he sat, she raised herself in compensation, hands still fondling the shaft of his maleness.
Dave threw his head back and gurgled in joy as Becky's warm cavern of a mouth sank over his aching penis. Her lips immediately enclosed him like a glove and her head began to rise and fall in excruciatingly slow cocksucking. Slowly-slowly-slowly-her mouth went up and down on his prick, her lips tightening about him, teeth covered by drawn-back lips but tantalizingly tangible all the time.
He leaned forward to take her nipples between his fingers as she ate him, and he rolled her now thrustingly stiff little points between his fingers until he could feel her tits engorge and harden. He cupped her tits in his palms, thanking whatever creative forces there were that she had been designed with boobs just the right size to hold in his hands. Not a wasted bit of flesh about her.
Dave's hands left her tits, wandered round her back, played up and down, fingers stroking her backbone as her head bobbed in his lap. The slurpy wetness of her mouth was quiveringly erotic and he knew that when he shot his load this evening it would be a load well worth shooting. His balls were working overtime to brew up a come stew appropriately juicy for the lovely freshman girl.
His hands took hold of her head, stroked her hair, marveled at its silky fineness, teased her ears, snaked along her neck. Could a girl purr while sucking cock? She seemed to be purring now, just like the kind of cat she reminded him of, with her slinky tigress looks. And to carry the cat analogy one step further, he knew that before long he had to get his hooks on her lovely pussy!
Becky looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with her arousal, her lips wet, saliva dripping daintily from the corner of her mouth.
"Like that, Master?" she teased, her fingers tight around the base of his cock, one palm cupping his balls.
"Bet your sweet ass," he panted, "but it's your turn now."
She let go his genitals and stood up, her arms outspread, emphasizing the vulnerable nudity of her body. "Your wish is my command," she said, and she bowed her head slightly, the black strands of wig falling to cover her perky nipples. "I'm only your slave girl of the Nile."
Dave jumped from the chair, his hands reaching for her, his cock aching for her. He seized her in his arms, swept her up, threw her over a shoulder and, walking lopsided with his burden, bore her into his bedroom.
Becky fell gently to the surface of the bed, stirring herself as soon as she landed to lay it bare to the bottom sheet. As soon as the bedspread and quilt were out of the way Dave was with her, his hands renewing their acquaintance with her provocative body, his mouth greeting hers like old school friends, remet after many years. She lay back on the bed, her head resting atop his arm, her mouth on his, her tit in his other hand, her body writhing and alternately forcing itself against Dave, then pulling itself away.
Dave's hand slid down her, stroked her tummy, fingered her navel, then glided like a soaring jetliner into the auburn hair of her delta. He teased the hair between his fingertips, pulled it until be sensed her pained reaction, then cupped the whole of her crotch in his exploring hand. She moistened for him, pushing her cunt into his palm, opening her legs to spread the slice of her femininity that he might know it fully.
Her pussy winked open and his gingerly touching fingers slipped inside her labia majora. The whole pink slash of her was his for the taking now, and a solitary finger probed the trembling entrance of her female tunnel. His thumb rubbed round and round but did not yet touch Becky's clitoris as it extended itself like an incredibly tiny penis. Delicious wetness surrounded his probing members and he could smell so aromatically the odor of her arousal. It made him want to eat her up, right on the spot.
And so he decided to do. Breaking his kissing contact with her mouth, Dave slid down her adorable frontage, pausing to pay homage with his lips to the areas of her body he had so recently known in a tactile sense, drifting his way into her red-gold beaver, tugging at the hairs with his pulling teeth. Her pussy was his for the snacking now, and so he spread her legs wider, arched them over his shoulders, and pressed his face upon her gash as if he were a starving man approaching the biggest steak in Christendom.
Becky moaned aloud as Dave's mouth made its first contact with her pussy, as it caught between its lips the outer flanges of her trembling cunt, sucked them together. She squirmed and forced herself against his mouth, and then his fingers slid also into her slit, spreading open her gash and opening a path for Dave to approach her heart of femininity.
The oyster-slick of her vulva responded throbbingly as he sucked and licked his way along it, around it, coming at last to the nervous clitty button of her. Dave's tongue touched it tentatively. Raw fires exploded inside her as contact was made, and a fragrant warm wetness bathed his chin. He sucked the flesh round her love bump, feeling once more the lubrication of her cunt, feeling the hands of the sweet young girl seizing his hair, pulling at it, forcing his head to do its work, the work it would never abandon under any circumstances.
He slicked his way back down her slot, nuzzling and muzzling her, all the way to her anal opening. His tongue dabbed at her asshole, making her squirm with renewed enthusiasm. And then he insinuated his lingual probe between the inner lips that covered her deepest mysteries, and his daring was rewarded with bliss beyond his wildest dreams.
Becky's cunt was tight and moist and hot, and as he thrust his tongue in her shaft, as deep as he could force it without pulling it from himself by the roots, the sensitive walls of her pussy canal lightened and re-tightened upon him, squeezing his tongue as if in a vise. God, he thought, what an educated pussy! Fucking her would be like tucking a willing virgin, she was so tight and delicious! And he knew that she could crack his nuts but good with that wild squeezing action of hers. Christ, he could hardly wait to get his eight inches in her and coat her stomach with his come!
"Please," she was almost sobbing, "fuck me now! I can't stand it any longer!"
But Dave wasn't ready to fuck her yet. Before he stuck her with his cock, she would be coming so hard she wouldn't stop for a week. Then and only then would she get his peter!
His tongue laved in and out of her fiery tunnel, drinking her juices along its length, sharing them with his taste-conscious mouth. His taste buds analyzed her sweet pussy nectar and found it absolutely delicious. Nectar of the gods? Mead of the honeybees? No, this was the very manna from heaven that Moses and the Children of Israel had lived upon during their forty years in the desert. Dave knew it well enough, and he was torn between a desire to share this earthshaking discovery with the world at large and his wish to keep it all, all for himself.
Becky was so wet-cunted now that shoving it to her would be like sticking a peter inside a box of melted ice cream. But much more fun, he reminded himself. Regretfully he pulled himself from his sucking. Bigger things were at hand.
She lay on her back, eyes closed, hands fondling her pretty young tits, legs thrown far apart. Her boobs were heaving up and down like stormy seas and Dave knew he could hear her heart beating with excitement. Then be realized suddenly that it must be his own heart, pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, that he could hear. So he was excited too? So what? So he was gonna fuck the living hell out of this delightfully creamy young girl, that's what!
And he threw himself upon her then, his mouth dislodging one of her hands to seize a tit for its own use, and his hands took hold of his aching, come-filled penis, guided it to the mouth of her yawning hole, and shoved it home for auld lang syne. He slid into her to the hilt, his belly banging against hers, and she jerked at the contact. Even lubricated with the flow to which he had fingered and sucked her, she was still a tight piece of cunt, nearly tight as a young virgin, and he knew almost instinctively that she hadn't been fucking for a very long time. Not long enough to splay her hole out of shape, at least. And he was grateful for that, grateful to her, grateful to whoever had been there before him but had been thoughtful enough to leave plenty of nice snatch for the next guy.
Dave's cock was snaking in and out of Becky like an oil drilling rig, banging his belly against her pubic bush on downstrokes, taking him nearly all the way out on his backpulls. But not all the way out. He had plenty of cock and it was no trouble to leave plenty of that cock in her when he was setting his balls up for another hammer at the loveliest anvil he had ever beaten on.
Becky got her lithe and lissome legs round him, crossing ankles on the male padding of his ass, her heels playing a fandango on his flesh as he flicked in and out, ever in and out. She was gasping like a drowning woman, her head back, eyes clamped tight, mouth open and up, and the rasping sounds that creaked from her throat signified to Dave's experienced ear that she was already coming for dear life. The juices that drenched his jerking peter were only added confirmation, and he knew that soon her cunt fluids would be mingled with even hotter gushes of creamy liquor distilled in the refinery of his bouncing balls.
A long shrill cry broke out of Becky's open, trembling mouth, a cry that signified her surrender to the feelings that were coursing through her body, feelings that she could not have resisted even had she wanted to, and she thrust herself against Dave all the harder, seeking to imbed as much of his shafting cock as she could, while her nerve ends were all flowing directly to her come bump.
Dave took the hint, and he shoved himself back against her, putting everything in her but his balls, touching depths of this girl's body that he had never known in a woman before. He was positive he could feel his prick jabbing against her very womb, and all the more positive when she broke into a hot and cold sweat each time he stuck his penetrating cock up her hot canal.
And then it was too late to worry about whether or not he could give her even more length, for his balls sent word throughout his body that they could not dam up the flood of come that raged there, and the slot in his cock-head burst open, deep inside Becky's clutching cent, and from it there spilled a river of hot swirling cream that shot in, in, in, Becky's twat. Her cuntmouth tightened round the squirting length of his prick, squeezing it as it shot, forcing it to dislodge come that Dave hadn't even known he possessed.
He drowned her internally, till he was sure it must soon roll in torrents out her mouth, her nose, her ears, her sweat glands. He couldn't stop gushing and jerking, and shaking and twisting, and each movement of his prick sent a fresh splattering load of juice into Becky.
She took it like a lady, her pussy still grabbing at his dick, forcing it to expel every drop it could summon, and even when he was dry, when his cock was only shaking inside her, when he had no come left to give her, she kept on forcing more, more, more, fastening like a steel trap on the rigid length of his prick, teasing it, tormenting it, demanding that it give her what neither God nor man could provide at that moment.
Come was everywhere inside her. Dave's still jacking peter rode on a sea of come that backed its way down her love tunnel and swirled out through the tightness of her opening, wetted his pubic hair, wetted hers, rolled hot and sticky down her love slot into the crack of her ass. When he could at last pull his prick from her, when her muscle tightening had dwindled into spasmodic jerking of labia minora, the come he had left behind him, the come that had no where to go, spilled out of her, leaving her red-blonde cunt hair spotted in creamy gobs of love drops.
"Jesus," Dave whispered, drained emotionally as well as physically. He rolled off Becky and lay at her side, too weak even to put his fingers atop one of her still-tempting titties. His eyes closed and consciousness left him for a while as nature reasserted its ultimate control over his body and decreed that he must rest now, whether he really wanted to or not.
When he opened his eyes again, Becky was still lying beside him, a smile on her face that reminded him of the proverbial cat in the cream barrel. Her hand slid across his chest, tangled in his man-hair, pinched at one of his tiny nipples.
"That was okay," she said. "Did you like it?"
"Bet your ass," he smiled. "Bet your ass."
He scooted across the bed and fished a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the drawer in the nightstand. He put two weeds in his mouth, lit them both, then turned to her, handing her a smoke as he exhaled.
"Oh, no thank you," she said, smiling shyly at the glowing cigarette he extended. "I don't smoke."
So much for that old myth, he thought embarrassedly, stubbing out the superfluous Kool in the ashtray. He took a few more puffs of his, then it too died in the cigarettes' last resting place, and he rolled back onto the bed to lie beside her.
Becky cuddled close to him, her fingers once more in his chest hair. Dave wanted to fuck her again, right now-this time, he thought gaily, in the ass. He had a pretty good idea she was still cherry in her bottom hole, but he had another flash of inspiration that told him she would love it once she'd felt a cock there. And of course, they hadn't tried a 69 yet, spilling juices of love in one another's mouths instead of genitals. But there was something else that was on his mind, too.
"Tell me, Becky," he began, shifting onto his side that he might study her face. "What was the idea of this, anyway?"
She stared in open-eyed surprise. The black wig had slipped during their hot fucking and half her natural golden crown of hair lay exposed. "I don't understand you," she said.
"You," he said. "Coming over here tonight-letting me fuck you. What do you expect to get out of it, anyway?"
"I already got it," she replied happily. "I got a real nice screwing."
"Shit,,' he observed. "You were trying to brownie me up for a grade, weren't you?"
"No!" she shouted. "Nothing like that at all." She looked back into his searching eyes. Unconscious that she was doing it, she folded her arms across her bared breasts, brought her legs together, shutting off the come-drenched lips of her twat.
"Miss Ryan," he said wearily, "this is the oldest story in the history of college education. Beautiful girl wants grade. Beautiful girl balls teacher. Beautiful girl gets grade. Was that why you were interested in ancient Egypt so suddenly?" He looked down her outraged glare. "You can be honest," he added. "After all, you know, you were on the road to an A already. All you had to do was keep up the work you'd done on the first exam. So really, wasn't this a waste of time on your part?"
Becky's throat muscles tightened and she leaped off the bed. As she bent her head to stare at him in rage her neck veins stood out in ghastly prominence.
"You arrogant bastard," she hissed. "I knew I was doing all right in your fucking class. I knew I could get an A in it without much trouble. And I don't have to fuck for grades, either. I earn them. In class, not in bed! The only reason I came over here tonight was because I thought you were really a sexy guy and could lay a good time on me. But the only thing sexy about you is your cock! In your heart you're just a stupid fucking pig!" And she spun round, the wig falling off completely as she did, but Becky did not even bother to stoop and retrieve it. She stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Dave lay on the bed stunned, listening to her defiant footsteps as she tromped into the bathroom and closed the door hard.
He jumped off the bed to follow her. Perhaps he had misjudged her motives after all. Perhaps she had only come over because she wanted to fuck him. But what else should he have thought? Girl fucks teacher and girl gets grade. Wasn't it as simple as that.
And realization came to him. He was a stupid tucking pig, just like she had told him. A pig of the male chauvinist variety, he thought bitterly. This was the age of Aquarius, for God's sake! The times they are a-changin'. And part of the change was in the area of women's roles in society. No longer did women intend to let men do all the choosing, all the seducing. They were liberated today, and they insisted upon their right to use their bodies for their own purposes.
Good deal, Shearing, he told himself. You meet your first really liberated woman and what do you do? You fuck yourself in the ass. He raced out of the bedroom, into the living room, intending to plead for her forgiveness.
Becky was in the living room standing by the door. She had poured the remainder of his martini mix onto the couch where it lay wet and shining, and she was fully dressed once more.
"Please," he called to her, "I want to apologize."
"Go fuck yourself," she replied bitterly and she was gone.