It happened to her many years ago, in her senior year at college, before the presentation of her graduation paper; yet her thoughts went back to it quite often. It was not something to forget; she meant to tell the whole thing to her granddaughters when she grew old.
Once she believed it to be a thrilling adventure; as time went by, she began to look at it with a smile; however, back then, in her student years, things were by no means funny, for she had to make her own way in life, getting all the bumps on the way.
This is how it went.
She was not a particularly hard-working student, and never concentrated on her work; as for her graduation paper, it was a joke. Other students with the same attitude had long since been sent packing. She was the only one of the lot still left, and her friends kept wondering as to what was her special trick. It was, actually, quite simple: her intimacy with the dean; it was, naturally, a clandestine love affair. He was not all that old, and quite attractive, and thus, when, back in her sophomore year, she had spotted his far-from-paternal gaze fixed on her legs, she had immediately made up her mind. She did not have to wait long for the right opportunity, and thus she had secured a powerful patron for her college years. And what would you expect a simple out-of-town girl (she had come from a small provincial place) to do in a big and hostile city? To spend your days slaving in the reading room and your nights waitressing, wasting your best years on that?
She did not find the “friendship” particularly troublesome, for the dean was mortally afraid of being caught. He was a married man, with far-reaching career plans at the college, so if the affair became public, he would be a goner. She, too, was well aware of the delicacy of the situation -- she was smart enough to realize that. She knew full well that she would be out of college the moment anyone learned about their relationship; back in those days, the morals were quite strict. And yet, everything worked fine for both of them. Their dates were not all that frequent, and a humble student could not ever hope for a better patron.
All went well, except that the day when she would have to submit her graduation paper was getting closer and closer. Needless to say, her tutor was her beloved dean, as he would not entrust his treasure to anyone else. As the result, she really loosened up, out of any proportions. She had absolutely no idea what her graduation paper was about – she was even vague about its title. Even the dean was a little worried, and begged her to at least read the thing before the presentation. And then it happened! Her precious patron had a traffic accident. Thank God, he had survived, but he was badly hurt and ended up in the hospital ward for a couple of months, while her presentation was only two weeks away. She almost fainted when she learned about it: I am now up to my neck in shit, she thought, with zero chance of getting out of it.
Together with her hopeless paper, she was sent to a professor; she had not even had a chance to get in touch with her patron, nor even call him: he could not speak, for he was really in bad shape, the poor chap. Oh, my God! What could she do, the luckless girl? There was absolutely no time left… She was desperate: it was either packing her stuff and going back home, to milk the cows, or taking some urgent steps.
Her new tutor had the reputation of being a very straight guy. No one had even seen him being frivolous with female students. He was a decent guy all around – a wife, kids, research work, teaching. Seemingly perfect and incorruptible! Yet she knew she would have no other chance, no other options. So she showed up for their first session wearing a short skirt and a transparent blouse with nothing underneath, as if on a hot summer day, even though it was freezing outside; there was nothing else she could do. She did not even need to get aroused – her nipples were stiff with cold, as if she had two huge goose bumps under her blouse, and it was impossible not to notice them. They looked very tempting, and that was exactly what she vested her hopes in, for she knew that she had swell boobs. And, who would believe it – it worked! The new tutor was, apparently, a normal healthy male, and his eyes were glued to her tits, and he had to make an effort to take them away. Yet, it was not as simple as that; she knew that she could not just offer herself straight away. He had an impeccable reputation, and the other girls had advised her against even trying: you can make things even worse and say goodbye to your college diploma, they said. The professor never attended night clubs, and no one had ever seen him at a party. She had zero chances of snagging him there. And yet, she had even fewer chances to properly present her graduation paper. There was only one option left: to go ahead and to ask for a private meeting, and then to risk it all.
He was tutoring quite a few students, and he had no time for extra sessions. He had already been working Saturdays for a whole month, the poor guy, and the only day he still had for himself was Sunday; shedding tears, she begged him to sacrifice it for her sake, and her tears were not at all fake
“Well, I guess I need to help you out,” said her tutor, surrendering. “I will have to get into my office somehow, even though there is an express Rector’s order not to access your workplace on Sundays. Just be ready, we will work hard; we’ll make it a full-scale preliminary presentation.” “I’m sure we’ll make it. I see that you love my boobs, so we will sure make it,” she chuckled inwardly, listening to him and nodding in agreement.
And then she had come up with a master plan, for she was a resourceful and highly experienced girl; all those years in college had not been wasted. As they say, good girls go to Heaven, and bad girls go everywhere.
Sunday came, and she began to prepare for the decisive meeting. There was no time to make her graduation paper more attractive, so she decided to make something else more attractive… her body. A waxing, and enema just in case (she had no idea about his preferences), silicone lubricant in both places, well in advance, and a proper outfit: stockings, high boots, a fur coat and absolutely NOTHING else. That was her personal know-how, and now she was ready for the session.
On Sunday morning, the college building was closed, and no one would let her in without her tutor. She spent a long time outside in her inappropriate outfit, until she was freezing, shaking all over, for, even though it was a long fur coat, the chill crept underneath it. To make matters worse, it was freezing cold outside.
Finally she saw her darling tutor approach; he was bundled up and, apparently, cold too. She was so happy to see him she rushed ahead – thank God, he did come, being as good as his word. “Why don’t we have a cup of coffee first?” she suggested. “I had no time for breakfast, for I went to bed late yesterday; I was still working on my paper. Just a quick cup of coffee, and then on to work; it is such a cold day, I would love a hot drink!”
He cast a strict glance at his watch and agreed reluctantly, for it was, indeed, a cold day. While, as a matter of fact, she had decided to take him to the cafeteria so that he would relax and get ready for the show.
They were drinking coffee together, and she was such a cozy pussy-cat, nice and cuddly. As if they were a couple, having breakfast together. A young pussy cat had just got up, and now she sipped her coffee next to him and purred sweetly. She could see that the tutor was gradually mellowing; he was no longer in a rush, and offered to help her out of her coat. “Why don’t I put it on the hanger, you must be awfully hot,” he said. “No, your timing is bad, sweetie,” she giggled inwardly. “I won’t be the worse for it, but you would faint, and so would the barman, if I took off my coat.”
“No, really,” she said, “thank you for the offer. I have not warmed up yet - just feel how cold my fingers are.” And she thrust her fingers into his hands, in a sweet girlish way. She could see that her tutor appreciated it and relaxed even further. Indeed, she was a lovely girl, so simple and naïve. With an open, carefree smile into the bargain; she looked him in the eye and fluttered her eyelashes. “You know what,” she went on, “why don’t we have some mulled wine, to get completely warm? Just a glass each, it would really help. In Austria, or in Germany, people always drink mulled wine in winter, and they never have colds. I’ve heard it from my friends. Do you drink mulled wine? My nose is sort of running, and I cannot afford to come down with a cold right before graduation. What do you think?” And again she looked him straight in the eye, as if he was her dad and she was a loving daughter.
She saw that the tutor’s thoughts finally began to turn in the right direction; he was becoming more comfortable with the part intended for him and getting relaxed. Isn’t it nice to sit in a warm cafeteria and chat with a lovely girl? Nature would always have its way. There’s no getting out of it, even though the tutor tried hard to resist. “I don’t think it is a good idea,” he said. “Or rather, it is bad timing. I won’t mind having some mulled wine, but we have work to do.” “We will ask the barman to make it really mild. Oh, it would be so wonderful to have some mulled wine! Just one little drop, eh?” she kept insisting, looking sweetly and imploringly into his eyes.
Would you expect a normal guy to stand up to this? Never! “All right,” nodded the tutor. “Let’s have some. It is very cold outside, really.”
So they drank on. It was warm and cozy inside, they both warmed up. It looked almost like a date, they were sipping their mulled wine, enjoying the moment. She had not expected it to go that smoothly. She was looking him in the eye, feeling that her new tutor was all but ready to start working on her diploma. Then she decided that it was time to move on, while he was still a little tipsy; besides, she was, indeed, getting quite hot in her fur coat. If you have ever drunk mulled wine in winter, you know that it goes to your head right away.
Here they are, walking together; she is leaning on his hand, for there’s ice in the street and she is wearing high heels – she put these boots on deliberately. The tutor supports her carefully, for he does not want the lovely girl to take a fall. And she is clutching his hand so trustingly, so tightly; she is clinging to him, in order not to slip.
“Oh, my God! Please, hold me,” she says. “I guess I’ve put on a wrong pair of shoes for this weather. A pair of Uggs would be more appropriate.”
They walk, they laugh at her high heels, and it seems that they are drifting closer and closer together. The tutor’s voice, as well as his behavior, is changing visibly, in the exact way that she needs. She can feel the guy melt, and knows it won’t be hard to handle him now. Were she not so pressed for time, she could do it gradually, seducing him step by step, prolonging her pleasure. But she only has one week before her presentation, and she cannot take any risks; besides, if she does not stick to her plan, he will find out that she is absolutely clueless about her own graduation paper. It is better to stick to the original strategy, especially since everything seems to be working perfectly.
They walk along the dark corridor towards the office. The tutor has been caught in the spirit and keeps supporting her, even though the icy walk is long gone. She is playing her part, clinging to him, as if she feels scared and distraught in the gloomy building. And there is not a soul inside the building, except for a sleepy security guard by the entrance. The place is quiet as an old castle; with dim lights instead of torches, it gives the whole thing a romantic touch. Slowly, the heavy office door clicks shut behind them, and they walk into the dean’s spacious study that is always used for tuition sessions: the place is warm and cozy, filled with old furniture, the smell of leather and books, and a huge desk with woodcarving and green upholstery – no less than a hundred years old. The heavy French curtains are drawn halfway, hiding them from inquisitive eyes that might look in through the window. It would have really been appropriate to light up candles, or a fire in the fireplace, and the hopeless graduation paper could be used to kindle it. The tutor seemed to have guessed her emotions, he turns to her and flashes an embarrassed smile: it is by no means a standard situation.
“Well, should we start working on your graduation paper?” His voice is a little hoarse; it tells her that she must act right away.
“You look flustered, even scared! Now is the time to go!” With this thought she walks up to him, trying to suppress her own agitation, for it is the crucial moment. “Please help me to take this off.” Looking her tutor in the eye, she slowly brings her hand to the upper button of her coat.
The flaps still conceal the body that quivers with excitement, the silk lining absorbs her perspiration. She exhales loudly, and the show begins. Parting slowly, the dark fur reveals to the stunned tutor the white strip of her bare body. Unable to believe his eyes, still oblivious to what is going on, he reaches out for her, as if offering his help in taking off the coat, and… freezes in mid-motion. Button after button, eyes looking into the eyes… The strip of bare skin is getting wider, and the tutor’s awe is growing, he finally begins to understand what is going on. He licks his lips and swallows audibly… She is silent; she begins to pull the flaps of her coat aside, and his jaw drops involuntarily… their breathing becomes audible. Her breasts, her belly, her hips, her pubis, the strip of her intimate hairstyle, her buttocks, her legs in lacy stockings… His eyes are sparkling brighter and brighter. She feels like a slutty whore, but, for some reason, it arouses her more than anything else.
The curtain drops, silence hangs in the air, and they both stop breathing. The coat, fully parted, exposes her bare body; she is offering it to her tutor. He is shocked. His eyes bulging, he stands there with an open mouth, in complete frustration, having no idea what to do next. As if he was hit hard on the head; all of a sudden, it occurs to her that the game she has initiated is very, very amusing. Her own doubts disappear in a flash, all that she wants now is to have a good fuck, and her graduation paper has nothing to do with it.
She squats and, taking her time, unzips the fly of the stunned tutor, then swallows his penis. The tutor gives a sob, as if he was burnt.
Gradually his member is hardening, for she knows her job. To suck, to lick, to swallow deeper; to run the spatula of her tongue up and down the shaft, to tease the tip with her tongue, to twiddle it around the head… Massaging his scrotum gently all the time… She has mastered this art to perfection. Her “friendship” with the dean was not in vain; he has taught her a lot of things.
The tutor’s moans are getting louder, his penis is now fully erect; she feels that she could get by with just a blowjob, but then, all of a sudden – a flash, a shock, an insanity… something primordial erupts in the tutor’s brain, and his instincts take full control of his mind.
He attacks her, as a starved male dog attacks a bitch in her heat. He throws her, back down, on the dean’s desk, jerks her spread legs up and begins to fuck her like crazy, driving his penis all the way in. She was not expecting such eagerness, she gasps with the intensity of her feelings, as if an electric current is running through her. The tutor keeps thrusting, getting more and more aroused, more and more vigorous.
Roars, moans, sobs, and then – delight, rupture, joy… Never giving him a chance to recoup, she goes on and on with the mad “session.” It is not a part of her plan to leave him any energy for the actual discussion of her paper, so she needs to get him completely exhausted. The moment he comes, she swallows his penis once again, to revive it and to go on fucking. The tutor, completely overwhelmed, gives her a long, avid fuck, relishing the young body and prolonging his pleasure; his lust has driven him crazy…
The phone rings, bringing them back to reality. It is the tutor’s wife, she is looking for him.
His voice hoarse, he tells her that he is almost finished and will soon be home; it is time to bring their session to an end.
Her presentation went without a hitch, no awkward questions asked; apparently, the tutor had greased the way for her. And who would ask questions anyway, if she was such a diligent student?
This story is a part of Looking Through the Curtains Collection of erotic short stories that you can find on Amazon.com. The series of these Collections includes 200 stories, none of them for the minors.