It had been fun learning, Becky decided. So much fun that she had given herself over for a short while to a very healthy, very active promiscuity. So far had she come that the old Becky-frigid, frightened, still 'very virginal in spite of having been raped-the old Becky seemed to be a different person, one she could not imagine had dwelt in her own awakened, hyperactive body.
She didn't fuck everyone. Not Archie, for example. The boiling sperm cocktail he had spouted into her sucking mouth left him depleted and exhausted, unable to get up again. So she had left him with a kiss and gone back to her room, exuding the aroma of fresh-spilled come to everyone who got a whiff of her breath, and smiling as her fragrance sparked shocked recognition.
But on the other band, what about the boy she met in the dorm lobby Sunday evening, the day after she'd gotten herself talked into making it with Archie? He'd been nervous and shy too, asking her which room a girl named Caroline lived in, so he could get back the biology notes she had borrowed from him. Becky invited him to her quarters, and before he knew which end of him was up, she had it out and in her. And there were others. However, aimless, free sex palled of its own accord after a few days, and Becky realized that she was enjoying her comes but that there was nothing in it for her beyond the friction that brought her body to pulsating bliss. The guys she was screwing were, once their cocks had emptied, really rather dull. She couldn't talk to them. Where was the romantic spark, the sudden interaction of two people-where was the lightning flash of love? She still believed in love but now she saw no reason to divorce it from its most obvious physical manifestation. And now that she had explored the physical side, she wanted it coupled with the emotional aspect of human attachment.
And so Becky began her search for a partner who would be more than just a quick fuck or suck or 69-a partner who could touch her mind as well as her clitoris.
Tuesday afternoon in World Civilization class she realized that her quest was ended. Her instructor Mr. Shearing was almost a perfect match for the unknown man she had been hoping to find. He was handsome in a rugged masculine way, he was intelligent, young enough to share many of the new ideas that she had been drinking in since her arrival at State University, he was unmarried and therefore available. So she went after him.
Setting him up was easy, although she went about it at her leisure. It was two weeks before she made her initial play, but once the groundwork had been laid she wasted no time in following up her lead. And Gods! bedtime with him had been everything she had hoped it would be. His skilled lovemaking left her body wracked in what she was sure had to be the greatest orgasm she had ever known. As they lay on his bed afterwards, wreathed in haloes of post-coital satisfaction, she had let her mind drift into fantasies of the even greater pleasures that lay ahead of them.
And then, the bastard had done it to her! As cruelly as Ted had screwed his passion into her body that day, so long ago it seemed now, Dave Shearing had screwed his male piggishness into her heart and mind. Her ideal man had proven when the chips were down to be just another hungry cock that had no consideration for the real feelings of a young girl. Well, fuck him! she thought angrily, lying on her bed. He could have had it all, all for his very own, but he blew it. Oh, how he blew it!
Dave Shearing was looking forward to Thursday afternoon's World Civ class with trepidation and anticipation. Once more the strange but delightful blonde would be sitting among the students in front of him. Every time he thought about her lithe, responsive body, the expert quality of her cock-sucking; the educated strength of her cunt, the eroticism inherent in her every muscle, he got hard and anxious.
Was it indeed too late to clear it up with her, he wondered. Could ho redeem himself? He needed an excuse to talk to her alone, one that she couldn't refuse. Yes! he still hadn't returned the exam papers to that class. If he busted his ass grading them all tonight, he could give them back tomorrow. Still undressed after his encounter with the lovely student, he set himself down at his desk and began to rush through exam booklets with his red pencil, assigning scores here and there with little thought of consistency, eager only to get all the remaining papers marked and ready for return tomorrow at 1:30.
Becky sat in her usual chair, watching sardonically as Dave Shearing passed out test papers. She saw her classmates looking at the scores in their exam books, some groaning at low marks, some chortling at high marks. It took Dave a long time to return the papers, because, aside from Becky, he didn't know anyone in the class by face and name. He would call out a name, wait for a hand to rise, and then stride that way with a blue booklet extended. Becky yawned as she waited for her own name to be called. She wondered if the aftermath of their little encounter would have had any effect on the high grade he had told her she received. Probably the son of a bitch has lowered me from an A to a C, she thought.
"Anyone whose name I didn't call can pick up their exam in my office after class," Dave smiled from the front of the room, positioning himself behind his lectern with a sheaf of notes for today's lecture.
So that's it, Becky thought A little lure to get me alone with Mr. Wonderful. She smiled. Okay. If that's how he wanted it.
When class was dismissed, Dave headed for his office with heels of fire. He threw himself into his desk chair, opened a sheaf of papers, tried to look casual. If Becky wanted the return of her exam paper, she'd have to come in and get it. He waited for the telltale knock at his door.
"Come in," he said with a lilt in his voice he didn't want to show.
His eyes feasted on the young beauty of her as she came into his office then. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater that clung insistently to the curves of her breasts, fit tight enough to show, to his disappointment, that she'd donned a bra today, and, below that, a pair of matching slacks. Her longish blonde hair fell in studied tousles upon her shoulders. Right now she looked as much like Betty Coed as she had not in his apartment last night, clad only in that black wig and groovy waistband.
"May I have my exam, please?" she asked, her tone of voice carefully distant, reserved.
He smiled. "Of course," he said. "But I'd like to speak to you first, if you don't mind." He indicated a chair near him.
"I really can't stay," she replied. Leave it up to him, she thought maliciously. See what the sonofabitch is gonna try.
Dave stood up, came toward her. She leaned back against the door and regarded him casually us be approached. He came within a long reach of her, then neared, stopping when only inches separated the teacher and his student.
"Becky," he said in what he hoped was a frank, open, and manly voice. She looked at him quizzically. "Becky," he repeated. "I'd like to begin by apologizing to you for last night." Who moved? Did she slide her body toward him a little or did he drift in her direction? He didn't know, but it seemed a good sign all the same.
His hand slipped to her shoulder and she let it stay there. Dave smiled beatifically as he let his arm slide between the door and her soft back.
She said very faintly, "Please, Mr. Shearing," but not in a voice that made her sound very convincing.
Dave pressed his face toward hers, brushed his cheek with her blonde locks. His other hand touched her, traced along the line of her jaw, cupped her chin, lifted her face to his. Her skin was soft as velvet, and the blue of her eyes reminded him of the clear skies above the Rockies in summer. Dave knew then that he was in love with this gorgeous girl, and he wondered if he could bring himself to use the words that would tell her of his need for her. And be knew suddenly that words were totally inadequate. He wished he could wire her brain to his, flood her mind with the sensations that swept across him now as he stroked her face, as he thought of the sensational fuck they had shared, as he thought of the delights that could be theirs for all the years to come.
Her lips parted slightly and he saw the pink point of her tongue, flicking the edges of her even white teeth. Dave bent his head then and touched her mouth with his. He felt her tongue brushing his lips and opened them to suck it in. Her breasts pressed against his body, and the side of her thigh rubbed his crotch. Dave's cock sprang erect, much to his embarrassment, for there was no way he could prevent her from knowing how sexually aroused she had made him.
Becky didn't resist him, however, much to his joy and hope. Her thigh remained plumb against his growing meat and she seemed if anything to be increasing the friction of their tactile contact. And then her fingers slipped down his chest, to rub and fondle the stiffening pole of his erection through his pants. He moaned into her mouth as she felt him with her skillful hand, and he felt her humming giggle in reply.
It was time to tell her just how he felt about her. Dave pulled his mouth from hers, cupped her chin between thumb and finger, and looked down at her with love gleaming from his every fiber.
"Becky," he said, "I don't think you can ever know how badly I feel about last night. I had to talk to you, to try to explain, to make things better for both of us."
She placed a finger over his lips, her mouth making a shush sound. "Don't talk," she smiled, her hand still rubbing up and down the length of his still clothed peter. Ah, he thought, all the fear and trembling had been groundless. In the clear morning light she had realized that his only sin was ignorance. Soon, soon, he knew, she would extract his dick from his pants and then? Who knew what they could not do, even in the cramped quarters of a first-year instructor's office.
His cock was hard as a diamond now, jerking inside his trousers as Becky continued her casual fondling. He put down his fingers to stop her, for it was time to come to the understanding he knew they could reach. But she continued to squeeze his penile flesh, and the head quivered as her fingers kneaded it from outside its cloth prison.
"Becky," he said once more.
"So hard," she whispered, "so big and hard. The best cock ever. And it's all for me?"
"Ummm," he replied, his hips moving in time with her strokes.
"Oh, good," she breathed in a husky voice, as her hand moved faster and faster on his trousers, and his cock reacted to her stimulation. "Because-" she went on, smiling a smile that would have made a professional politician seem a sourpuss-"because-" and her hand began to move faster and faster and faster and faster, and Dave felt his dick begin to quiver impulsively and suddenly it was heaving and his balls were twitching violently and his prick was spilling its warm, heavy load inside his shorts.
He jumped like a shot as his underpants began to soak from the rapidly spurting semen, and his eyes fixed upon Becky's face. She stood looking at him, her mouth twitching mysteriously, and then her face convulsed into a grin and her mouth spouted raucous laughter.
"Was the hand job okay, Mr. Shearing?" she asked insouciantly. "Can I have my test back now?"
And without looking at him a second longer, she strode across the room, shoe heels clicking and clacking, to his desk, where her blue exam booklet lay. "Oh," she said as she opened the booklet to the first page. "An A. That's just what I was hoping for."
Dave looked at her uncomprehendingly, his hand trying to pull the soaked fabric away from his body. A stain was spreading on the crotch of his trousers. She walked past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when he spoke.
"Becky. Please don't go."
Her face turned to his, and the eyes that stared at him were blue and cold as cobalt. Her lips crinkled and then she laughed once more, bitter this time.
"I wouldn't get close to you again for anything," she snarled. "Not even if you took your cock out in the middle of the Campus Green and told me you'd die if you couldn't stick it in me just once." She opened the door and started out. "Oh," she said, sticking her head back inside for just a moment, "you'd better get your pants cleaned real soon. Come stains are hard to get out, if you let them dry." And she was gone.
Dave's heart sank. He had been so sure she could read what was in his mind, in his breast. And the worst of it, the very worst, was that he still wanted her. In fact, he was sure that he loved her all the more now that he had seen in her the fury of a woman who thinks she has been scorned.