Gaby's Grades free porn video

“And your answer would be, Miss Mackay?”

Professor Hawthorne’s voice brought Gaby to her senses with a jolt.

“Wh... what?”

“Young lady, there are only four of us in this tutorial. Is it really too much to expect you to remain awake and paying attention? Are the rest of us really so uninteresting?”

Shit! Had she really dozed off only four feet away from her Tutor; the man whose final assessment would determine the quality of degree with which she would soon leave University?

“I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t sleep well last night. Would you mind repeating the question?”

The older man sighed resignedly.

“I know Monday mornings are never popular among students but with only a few months of study before the final examinations I would have thought...”

Gaby listened to Professor Hawthorne’s lecture yet again. She knew it almost by heart and had actually recited it to her friends in the pub only two nights before. But she also knew if she had paid attention to its content months ago, she might not be in the difficult position she now faced.

She tried to look as if she was listening as the Professor droned on but concentrating was so hard after only three hours’ sleep.

Once again, the ‘glass of wine’ with her flatmate Debbie the previous night had attracted the attention of the boys from the flat above. Once again the evening had developed into a long night of drinking, watching movies and playing cards. Once again she had fallen into bed around three o’clock and into her own bed two hours later, flushed and sticky.

Gaby believed in a work-hard-play-hard attitude to student life and had pursued this throughout her time in Oxford. During the first two years this hadn’t mattered; the marks she had received had been excellent. They hadn’t counted much towards her final degree but, confident in her ability, she had taken maximum advantage of all the ancient city had to offer a pretty, well-off girl.

Now, in her final year, all that had changed and every mark was vital if Gaby was to follow her mother into the legal profession. At first she had found this change hard to deal with and had found it impossible to give up her socially and sexually rewarding but academically damaging lifestyle.

As a result, her marks had started to slip! That would never do; apart from her own competitive nature, what would her hard-nosed, career oriented mother Julie say if Gaby failed to get the degree her abilities warranted?

Julie Mackay was a high-flying Queen’s Counsel in London, despite having been a single mother for several years after graduation. This, as everyone pointed out, was a difficult example for her daughter to live up to.

Gaby took after her mother physically but that was where the resemblance appeared to end. Julie Mackay was blonde, large-breasted and strikingly attractive. Like her rather errant daughter, she too had studied at Oxford, indeed, if Professor Hawthorne - the tutor they shared over twenty years apart - was to be believed, Julie had been a model student. Certainly she had graduated with a First Class degree, had been snapped up by one of the top five firms and her career had taken wings.

Gaby often suspected this wasn’t the whole truth; after all she was only twenty two years younger than her mother; even the simplest of calculations showed that the Great Lady must have been pregnant when she left University and despite her mother’s three marriages, no name for Gaby’s genetic father had ever been forthcoming.

“I can’t understand how so many of you waste so much of the precious opportunity you have been given...”

The Professor’s voice droned on. Gaby tried to look as if she was listening but the throbbing in her head and the queasiness on her tummy were too great a distraction. She bit her lower lip to try and remain alert and looked at the Tutor they all referred to as ‘the Old Man’.

In his baggy, unfashionable corduroy trousers, un-ironed checked shirt, badly knotted tie and shapeless cardigan, Professor Hawthorne looked the epitome of the distracted, unworldly Oxford Don. He was grey, unfit, a little stooping and even wore an ancient tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows.

Unmarried and of indeterminate age, he had avoided the usual rumours about closet homosexuality. In fact, if anything, he had acquired a reputation for looking a little too intently at his female students’ breasts and legs during tutorials; the ‘Old Man’ had become the ‘Dirty Old Man’.

Gaby had felt the weight of his appreciative gaze on her body many times, especially when wearing the low cut tops and very short skirts she preferred whatever the weather. But there had never been any suggestion of inappropriate physical contact and his relationships with the female academic and domestic staff appeared relaxed and cordial as if they found him friendly and unthreatening.

Whatever his appearance and sexual preferences might be, Professor Hawthorne’s legal brain was still razor sharp as his many published opinions, articles and learned papers clearly testified. His acerbic, sarcastic wit was sharp too as Gaby herself had found out on several memorable occasions.

“Returning to my original question…”

To her relief, the Professor’s admonition had ended and the tutorial recommenced and miraculously, Gaby found she knew the answer to the question she had missed. She replied and was complimented. She answered the next two questions correctly too and the rest of the morning’s session passed much more productively.

As the college clock chimed twelve and the students rose to leave, the Professor asked her to remain for a few moments. Gaby’s heart sank. This could only mean one thing; a further, personal lecture to follow his earlier admonitions to the group.

“You are aware your mother was one of my students, Miss Mackay?” he began, his eyes disconcertingly on Gaby’s rather ample breasts.

Her heart sank; Gaby had already heard enough stories about her mother’s hard work, attention to detail and general super-human abilities. She mentally switched off as he droned on a little longer but was brought back with a jolt at his next words.

“… but my opinion, your abilities exceed hers by some considerable distance.”

“I’m sorry?” she stammered.

“You apologise too often, Miss Mackay. It’s polite but a good lawyer knows when politeness appears as weakness.”

“I’m sorr… I mean, is that so?” she asked. The Professor grinned.

“You are clearly a fast learner too. Take a seat.”

Gaby sat on one of the hard-backed chairs and crossed her legs. Her skirt rode high up her bare thigh; she could see the Old Man’s eyes follow every inch of its journey before he spoke.

“If you were to leave here with a First Class degree, your career path could be as impressive as your famous mother’s – probably even more so - but your recent performance makes that unlikely.”

His eyes were on her groin for the whole of this speech but it was too important a conversation to take offence; Gaby knew her recent marks had been below her best and had been reconciling herself to gaining only an Upper Second degree.

The Professor’s words of confidence were astounding, but he hadn’t finished; his eyes moved from her legs to her breasts and back as he continued:

“You still have six pieces of work still to complete. Two of them are already overdue so you will be marked down. I have no doubt that you will excel in the formal examinations so it is essential that you achieve the maximum possible in your remaining assignments.”

Gaby needed no help paying attention now; the Old Man’s words were the fastest hangover cure she had ever encountered. She crossed and re-crossed her legs awkwardly as his eyes apparently tried to see right through her top and knickers, but his words could make her forgive him anything.

“I suggest you apply your considerable talents as a matter of urgency. I would hate to see such ability wasted on a mediocre result followed by a mediocre career. I’m sure your Mother feels the same.”

“Of course Professor.”

“Professor Mullins will mark your overdue assignments. He is strict so you can expect no more than an Upper Second.”

Gaby frowned; Professor Mullins was notoriously mean. She was quite capable of producing First Class submissions in his subject but that would now be pointless. She cursed her laziness silently as Hawthorne’ eyes scanned her from the flat shoes on her feet, along the full length of her legs, across her tiny skirt then over her breasts to her eyes where they seemed to burn into her flesh.

“Your final four submissions are my responsibility. The first is due next week. I suspect you are behind with this already so, out of respect for your mother, I am prepared to grant you an extra week’s grace. One week, no longer!”

“Thank you Professor. I will do my best.”

“It will take your very best, young lady. This University does not award First Class degrees to any but the very best!”

*

Gaby worked hard over the next few days, spending hours in the library revising and working on her assignments, calculating and recalculating her marks to see how close she could get to the First Class degree she so badly wanted.

As predicted, the two overdue works were marked down by Professor Mullins; not as badly as they might have been but her total mark still looked uncertain.

The exams would improve this but in the end her final degree and with it her career as a lawyer - possibly her entire future happiness – rested on the last four pieces of work she had to produce for Professor Hawthorne.

This made her nervous. The man would mark her fairly but would be firm too. His topics had never been her strongest and she was by no means sure of gaining all the marks that she needed. Perhaps an Upper Second was the best she could get.

And then the letter arrived.

It was from Wickhams, one of the ‘Top Five’ law firms in London, offering her the coveted training place she and all her co-students had dreamed of.

Gaby had never been so excited in her life. There would be thousands of Law Graduates coming out of Universities that summer; only a small proportion of the would find jobs at all. Gaby had not only found a job but had been offered the best job she could have imagined. If she was successful and joined this prestigious firm, her future career was assured.

No doubt her mother’s reputation had helped put her in this position but all the same, Gaby was elated.

Then she saw it; those terrible words:

‘... conditional on your graduating with a First Class degree...”

Oh shit!

She called her mother immediately. The Great Lady was equally pleased and proud, but her response, though perceptive, had still been characteristically acidic.

“If you’d spent more time in the library and less time in bed with your dubious boyfriends you wouldn’t be having these worries!”

“Mother!”

Gaby had objected half-heartedly, knowing her mother was right; her sexual history at University had been chequered to say the least.

“Gabrielle, we live in a man’s world; we women have to deal with that. We have to use all the assets God gave us to best effect.”

There was a long pause before Julie carried on.

“You only get one chance in life Gabrielle and this is yours. It doesn’t get better than Wickhams; you can’t let this chance slip through your fingers.”

“I know but...”

“Now is the time to be brutally focussed. You must do whatever you need to do to get that ‘First’. Your whole future depends on it; do whatever you need to do!”

*

Her mother’s words ringing in her ears, Gaby had spent the whole of the following night working on her next assignment. When the morning finally came she was exhausted but had produced what she knew was a superb piece of work.

What was more, she had a plan! It wasn’t a plan her mother would approve of but, if it worked, she would indeed be ‘using her assets to best effect’.

*

During the following morning’s tutorial session, the Professor lectured them again on the need for hard work but the impact of his admonitions was reduced because he delivered the entire first half of the speech to Gaby’s left breast. In his defence, she had made sure it was displayed remarkably well by an excessively tight vest top and she had neglected to wear a bra.

The second half of the speech was delivered to a combination of her well-presented right breast and the tiny white knickers her microscopic skirt and crossed legs made hard to ignore.

When the rest of the group had departed, she approached Hawthorne slowly.

“Excuse me, Professor.”

“Miss Mackay?”

She placed an envelope on the table in front of him.

“My next assignment. I wondered whether you had had a chance to look at my last work yet.”

Her voice was soft and almost sultry.

“You know I’m not permitted to discuss work before its deadline.”

“I know, but I really want to know whether I’ve reached the right standard - so I can judge my next submissions properly.”

He turned to look at the blonde head raised pleadingly, its eyes open wide. She was standing so close he couldn’t avoid seeing straight down the front of her top or notice the hard nipples sticking proudly forward.

“Did you like what you saw, Professor?” she asked archly.

The Old Man was clearly wrong-footed.

“Um... your work is excellent but I’m afraid still borderline. If you really want that ‘First’, you need to gain even more marks on these last pieces.”

“Is there still time?” Gaby asked.

“Not normally, but I could return your last submission so you can work on it a little more.”

Gaby moved even closer and opened her eyes a little wider.

“I wondered if some extra tuition might improve my marks even more.”

Hawthorne looked at her blankly.

“I’m not sure I understand you, Miss Mackay.”

“My mother suggested that you might be able to give me some... private tuition.”

“Your mother suggested it?”

“Yes. She said you were very helpful.”

The Professor seemed very pleased at this compliment.

“Your mother was a remarkable student. I do remember some additional tuition in her final year. Not that it was needed; she had real talent.”

Gaby closed her ears to her mother being praised once again.

“And of course so do you but you seem to lack her commitment,” he continued.

She took a deep breath. This was the real gamble; this was taking her mother’s words very literally.

“I hoped there was some way I could be more certain of getting a First. I know I’m good enough but I thought a little extra… in private… might just guarantee those last few extra marks.”

“It comes down to you and your abilities. Private tuition is not part of a Professor’s tenure. Some might even think it unethical.”

“I appreciate this is a lot to ask so I thought... I mean I wondered whether... whether we could come to an arrangement.”

His eyes were still disconcertingly blank.

“An arrangement?”

“I wondered whether... if I helped you in some way... you might be able to… to mark my assignments more generously.”

The Professor looked stunned.

“I’m not sure I understand, Miss Mackay. You would like some extra-curricular tuition from me and in return?”

She took another deep breath, offered a silent prayer and said it!

“In return, I would provide some extra-curricular activities for you.”

The Old Man stood still as if frozen to the spot.

“Are you trying to corrupt me, young lady?” he asked, apparently amused. “I should report this conversation to the Master if you are.”

Gaby paused for a moment. Had she misread the signs? Perhaps he was just testing her to see how serious she actually was before putting himself in danger by agreeing.

“Goodness no, Professor! But I do know I’m asking a great deal of you. You’ve really inspired me these last few weeks; I really want to do my best; to repay the faith you have in me. I do have the commitment! I want to get a ‘First’, I really do! You told me I’m good enough; my work alone should show that but…”

“But?”

“But I want to be... certain!”

She looked him straight in the eye and spoke so clearly and precisely that only an imbecile could mistake her meaning.

“There’s nothing – nothing I wouldn’t do to get that ‘first’!”

Their eyes were locked together for what felt like an age before there was a loud knock on the door.

“Come!” called the Professor after a long pause.

The door opened and four young, pale teenagers filed in. Gaby rose nervously to her feet, unsure where the situation had reached. Had he understood? Was he interested? Or had she just destroyed her degree and career for nothing?

“I think - to avoid misunderstandings – it would be best if you put your proposal in writing, Miss Mackay,” he eventually said.

Gaby breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t expelled her straight away.

“Should I send an email?” she asked. He laughed and looked at the new arrivals.

“I think a letter would be better, don’t you? I find handwriting much more personal. And proposals in a person’s own hand are much easier to understand. And perhaps accept.”

Gaby felt a mixture of relief, fear and anxiety wash over her as she walked slowly from the room.

*

It was nearly midnight when she leaned back in her chair and pushed the pen away. The letter had taken over an hour to write but was finally finished.

Like most students, Gaby always typed her assignments so it had taken some time remember how to write in ink. She had chosen the fountain pen which her mother had given her for her eighteenth birthday in the belief that the Old Man would appreciate it more.

Was she crazy? Had she gone out of her mind? Surely with her talents just a little extra tuition would be enough to gain her the degree she deserved?

She looked again at the letter from Wickhams; at the paragraph offering her dream placement. It offered her the brightest future she could imagine - if and only if she graduated with the First Class honours degree she had told them she expected.

Gaby knew she couldn’t take the chance. However distasteful, she could and would go through with it.

The letter she had written was rather more direct than her conversation had been to make sure there could be no misunderstandings. Once she had handed it over there would be no turning back.

She looked at the Wickham’s letter again. She had to succeed; there was no other choice!

Besides, how bad could it be? It’s not as if she was a virgin; not as if she hadn’t slept with some highly unsuitable partners in the past. He was an old man for Christ’s sake!

Gaby carefully folded the letter, sealed it and addressed it neatly. She would slip it into the Professor’s pigeon hole tomorrow. Meanwhile there were those remaining assignments to get on with.

She made herself another mug of strong coffee and began to type.

*

“There are only a handful of tutorials left before your examinations so I expect you to take maximum advantage of what little time is left...”

Gaby tried desperately to concentrate as the Professor drew the session to a close. It was Friday, three days since she had posted her letter; so far there had been no response and she was anxious. Had she misinterpreted his interest? If he was outraged he showed no sign of it.

There was a knock on the door as the next tutorial group arrived and the Professor began to dismiss them, but as Gaby approached the door he stopped her.

“Miss Mackay?”

Her heart missed a beat.

“Yes Professor?” she turned slowly to find his eyes firmly fixed on her breasts.

“Thank you for your... proposal. I have decided... to accept it.”

She felt her tummy churn. Was it relief? Or fear?

“Thank you, Professor,” she replied, her voice weak with nerves.

“I could see you on Monday afternoons at four and Thursday mornings at eight-thirty for the next three weeks.”

Six sessions? Goodness; she hadn’t imagined more than one!

“You think all six will be needed?” she asked, aghast.

“Given what you what you want from me; I would say it’s the minimum, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course Professor,” she said as she left the room, stunned.

*

Gaby had a dreadful weekend. As if trying to catch up on her remaining assignments wasn’t enough, her first appointment with the Professor hung over her like a dark cloud.

What had she been thinking to get herself into this situation? How could she possibly go through with it?

At its worst, she had only imagined one session in bed with the Old Man, and that had been bad enough, but six!

But how could she not go through with it after it had gone so far? After all, it hadn’t been the Professor’s idea; that was clear and in her own handwriting!

She heard her mother’s voice again and tried to ‘keep her eyes on the prize’.

Time and again she re-read the letter from Wickham’s offering her the coveted training place.

Time and again her eyes fixed on the absolute, non-negotiable requirement for a First Class degree.

Time and again she pictured the bright future she would have if she succeeded.

Time and again she tried to focus on her assignments and her forthcoming exams.

Time and again she told herself that it wouldn’t be the first time she had slept with someone unsuitable; indeed her sexual history was littered with incidents of poor judgement. This couldn’t possibly be any worse than some of them had been.

A few drinks and a chat in the pub with her friends on Saturday and Sunday nights helped distract her for a few hours, but when she went to bed alone, the worries returned.

But even the slowest weekends must eventually pass and finally Monday morning arrived.

Gaby looked at herself in the bathroom mirror; dark-rimmed eyes, tired face, drooping hair. She looked as if she had spent a night on the tiles without having had the fun that would have brought. But whatever her appearance, now that the day had arrived she felt stronger; more determined. In a few hours the first of her sessions would be over.

It would be okay; it had to be okay!

If she played her cards right, she might even manage to avoid sleeping with him at all; there were many ways she could satisfy an old man like Hawthorne without having to let him actually penetrate her body.

And if she could manage to keep her ‘student’ self mentally separate from her ‘temptress’ self she might find the whole thing easier.

Gaby smiled as she showered. She would go shopping during her morning break and pack a bag to take with her when the terrible hour arrived.

*

‘Knock knock’

It was four o’clock and Gaby stood outside the Professor’s door, her knees shaking, her tummy rumbling but her mind under control. She felt ready; both physically and psychologically. A large satchel was stuffed under her arm as if she had just arrived for a normal tutorial.

‘Knock knock’

There was no answer and for a moment she felt relieved. He wasn’t there; he had forgotten, or changed his mind or...

“Miss Mackay!”

The Professor’s face appeared round the door. He was wearing a large white bath robe and his hair was damp.

“I’m sorry. I was just showering. Come in.”

Gaby took a deep breath, stepped through the narrow opening and into the study.

The room looked as it always looked; old fashioned but clean and tidy. The chairs were placed as they were always placed; the air in the room was fresh, the windows open and there was a faint smell of flowers. The blinds had been half closed but nothing looked unusual.

The sheer normality made her wonder once again whether she had made a mistake, but the Professor’s words removed any doubt.

“Would you like a shower... first?” he asked timidly.

Gaby looked at her soon-to-be lover; he looked disarmingly benign though she thought he looked different in his bathrobe; not quite as old, not quite as stooped, not quite as out-of-condition or overweight.

“A shower would be lovely,” she smiled. “Do you have a towel?”

“Um... yes of course.” Hawthorne opened a door and pulled out a large white fluffy bath sheet. “I… I bought this… um… specially for you.”

“Then why don’t you pour us a couple of drinks,” Gaby smiled again, feeling more and more in control, “I’ll be through in a few minutes.”

In the bathroom, she undressed quickly and stepped into the shower, feeling the hot water on her tingling skin.

It would be okay! He looked so excited and so inexperienced that she might even get away with just giving him a hand job. That would be perfect, but she was still prepared to go all the way if that was what it took.

Keep your eyes on the prize, Gaby!

She dried herself on the fluffy white towel, smiling at the preparation the Old Man had made for his unexpected treat then looked in the bathroom mirror.

Not bad; young and still innocent-looking. Her body should have the right effect even on a man his age but just in case, she opened her back-pack and pulled out its contents. There were a couple of books in case some form of excuse was needed en route or afterwards but the rest she considered her ‘insurance policy’.

Gaby perched on the toilet lid and pulled on the sheer black nylon stockings she had bought that morning. She fastened a black suspender belt around her waist and clipped the stocking tops to its straps before pulling a pair of tiny black panties over the combination.

Reaching back into the bag she drew out an equally skimpy black bra and wriggled her ample breasts into it. They were not in any way secure but that might give the old man a thrill too.

Finally she pulled her highest black heels out of the bag and, standing up, slipped her feet into them.

She looked again into the mirror, adjusted her make-up and smiled. Just right; pretty and sexy - no, very, very sexy.

The plan was working, at least for her! The girl in the mirror was so different from the girl that had entered the room that Gaby began to feel as if she had almost become a different person.

She could go through with it! She would go through with it!

She took out a brush and smoothed her blonde hair until it framed her face and neck then turned from left to right and around to see how her bottom looked.

Hot! She definitely looked hot!

When would drab, bumbling Professor Hawthorn ever have seen a girl as hot as this? Assuming he could get an erection in the first place, there was no way he would be able to control himself once this new, sexy Gaby got started on him. At the least it would be over quickly, but if she really played her cards right, she might even get him to cum in his pants and not have to touch his wrinkly old body at all.

She took a deep breath, took one last look at herself in the mirror then, with a satisfied smile, tottered over to the bathroom door and opened it.

She was a little surprised to see that the Professor had pulled out the old leather sofa and converted it into a rather large double divan with clean white sheets.

She was less surprised to see him standing nervously beside the mattress in his bathrobe. He had brushed his hair and somehow seemed to be taller, more poised and erect than she had expected; in fact his stoop had completely disappeared.

He turned towards her and his jaw dropped open in surprise. Gaby posed awkwardly in the doorway, feeling his eyes raking over her body from her hair to her heels, pausing for a long time on her breasts and panties.

“I... um... “

“Do you like my lingerie, Professor?” she asked softly, walking slowly towards him, making sure her hips swung just the right amount. “I chose it especially for you.”

“You... you look very attractive, Miss... “

“Call me Gaby,” she said.

He silently passed her a large white wine. Gaby raised her glass.

“Here’s to a mutually beneficial agreement,” she smiled.

For a few moments they sipped their drinks. Gaby had to fight to stop her hand from shaking but the Professor seemed a lot more composed than she had expected.

‘Concentrate!’ she told herself; ‘the sooner you start, the sooner it will all be over!’

“Would you like to touch me?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

“Yes... I think I would.”

The Old Man reached out a tentative hand and his fingers brushed against her arm. Gaby winced at the first physical contact. He pulled his hand away suddenly.

“Your hands are cold,” she grinned. “Don’t worry; I like it!”

Emboldened, he put down his glass and began to stroke Gaby’s soft skin with both hands, from her shoulders down her arms to her fingers and back to her neck. She breathed in deeply, thrusting her large breasts towards him. He stroked them clumsily through the black fabric of her bra.

“Shall I take it off?”

Gaby reached behind her back and a moment later the black lacy garment was on the floor. Her full, pale breasts broke free, standing proudly forward. The Old Man’s hand rose tentatively until the tips of his fingers brushed against her large, dark brown nipples; the teats hardened quickly. He tickled them more firmly, teasing their small dark tips with surprising dexterity.

“Mmmm! That’s nice,” she murmured, realising that it wasn’t actually a lie.

Encouraged, his hands cupped her full globes, massaging them, kneading them. It felt surprisingly pleasant though the angle was awkward. Gaby slowly turned around so her back was towards the Old Man’s chest and leaned against him. His long arms wrapped around her body, and she felt his hands exploring with growing confidence from her arms to her hard nipples then down over her womanly belly.

“Do you like this... Gaby?” the Professor whispered in her ear.

“Mmmm! Yes I do,” she replied truthfully.

“I can tell!”

She sighed as his fingers danced over her tummy, her hips and her soft thighs, toying with the suspender belt and the tops of her stockings before sliding dextrously down the front of her panties. His fingertips tangled with her neatly trimmed pubic hair, making her giggle.

“Too much?” he whispered in her ear.

“No. That’s nice too,” she sighed.

Then she felt a long, bold, confident finger starting to slide down into her slit. She gasped and involuntarily closed her thighs to keep the invader out before remembering what she was there to do. Gaby opened her legs just enough to give him a little extra access to her most private place and was rewarded by a slow, smooth stroke across the underside of her clitoris. Then another longer one, then another.

“Mmmm!”

The finger was certainly doing its job; from the base of her slit, across the entrance to her vagina to the rock hard nub of her clitoris, her entire vulva was being stimulated.

The Old Man must have accidentally stumbled on her most sensitive zones because the arousal within Gaby was mounting quickly. She felt the delving finger on her clitoris again, moving in tiny circles; her arousal climbed higher and higher, a warm glow was beginning to ripple out from her belly...

Surely this wasn’t happening! Surely this Old Man couldn’t be giving her an orgasm with his fingers so soon into their assignation! That wasn’t the plan at all and yet...

She had to get back in control!

“Would you like me to touch you now?” she asked, wriggling her nearly-spasming vulva away before the building orgasm could take hold.

“That would be nice,” the Professor replied as if completely unaware of the effect he had just had on his young partner. “If you don’t mind...”

“It would be my pleasure,” Gaby smiled, desperate to regain control of the situation; anxious to bring the whole event to a close before embarrassing herself in front of him.

Imagine the shame of letting this Old Man give her a full blown orgasm using only his fingers! She was the one who was supposed to be bringing him to an early climax.

Feeling grateful for her escape, Gaby gently pulled the end of the Professor’s towelling belt. The bow unfastened easily, and the robe fell open. She opened it wider and looked at the Old Man’s body then frowned in puzzlement. His cock was still limp and his pubic hair grey as expected, but she hadn’t expected the hair to be neatly trimmed or the rapidly-firming member to be so obviously... oversized.

In fact it was huge! His belly was considerably flatter and more toned than she had expected too, and his legs were far from the spindly pegs she had imagined. Something deep inside her felt unsettled, but at least the experience looked like being considerably less revolting than she had feared.

“You have a lovely big cock, Professor,” Gaby smiled, taking his member in her right hand and stroking it slowly.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“I wonder how big it gets when it’s really hard.”

She felt more in charge now the risk of her climaxing had passed. The lingerie had been a great idea, filling her with confidence and helping to distance the sweet, hard-working student from the half-whore she was pretending to be.

She dropped to her knees and her left hand slipped deep between his thighs to cup his tightening sack. Gaby gently squeezed, feeling its rounded contents while her right hand pulled back the skin on his shaft, exposing his smooth, pale-purple head.

Her hopes that he would be unable to get an erection at all were dashed; the already-thick shaft was growing larger and firmer. Barely a minute later, her hand was pumping a long, hard and monstrously thick pole of muscle while her other squeezed the tight, full sack at its base.

“Mmmm that’s nice!”

Gaby realised that this was the first expression of pleasure the Professor had spoken since she had emerged from the bathroom. It was encouraging; maybe if she worked harder she could make him cum in her hand and avoid any more seriously intimate contact altogether. She began to pump her fist up and down, blowing on the smooth, swollen tip of his erection.

“Is this nice?” she asked, smiling.

“It’s... very pleasant... Miss Mackay.”

“Gaby,” she corrected him, then slowly opened her mouth and took the end of his shaft deep between her lips.

“Oh my goodness!”

The Professor sighed as her soft, smooth tongue began to smother his sensitive end, working its way down the shaft, then back to tickle all around the ridge between shaft and cap. It felt huge and powerful, filling her mouth with its raw masculine presence and as she sucked and licked, Gaby felt herself lubricating copiously.

Surely she wasn’t getting turned on by this Old Man! And yet this was perhaps the biggest cock she had ever encountered, despite her rather promiscuous past.

Surely if she just kept on licking and sucking she could make him cum, if not on her boobs then, if nothing else would do, in her mouth.

Surely this Old Man couldn’t hold out much longer.

Gaby applied her talents as never before, licking, sucking and kissing the thick pole of muscle in her mouth. She was rewarded with many moans and sighs of pleasure but there was no sign of impending climax. Indeed the more attention she gave to the Professor’s cock, the harder, thicker and more stable it seemed to become and the more her own body seemed to desire it.

Something was definitely wrong; it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But there could be no backing out; if he wasn’t going to cum either in her hand or mouth, she would have to go all the way and let him fuck her.

She had been prepared for this; what she had not been prepared for was the ache in her lower belly and the tingling coming from her soaking wet vulva that seemed to intensify with every stroke of her tongue. She had not expected her own body to betray her and actually want to be fucked!

Then the Old Man’s fingers were under her chin, raising her pretty young face, his cock still between her lips. He was smiling. A moment later he had taken her by the hands, pulled his shaft gently from her mouth and raised her to her feet.

“Is it time...?” she asked in a hushed whisper. He nodded.

Gaby backed towards the divan until she felt the edge against the back of her calves. She lowered herself to the bed and lay back on the clean white sheet. The Professor was staring at her appreciatively as his bath robe fell to the floor leaving him fully naked.

A second later, he had taken the sides of her panties in both hands and was drawing them slowly and smoothly down over her bottom, her thighs, over her knees and then away leaving her in only her stockings and heels.

Her belly was a mass of butterflies as his strong hands parted her knees and the divan rocked as the Old Man climbed between her thighs.

The moment had come; Gaby steeled herself for the ordeal.

How bad could it be? Okay, he’s old enough to be your father if not your Grandfather but so what? He’s probably not done it for years! It was just bad luck you didn’t make him cum without penetrating you but he’s old; it’ll all be over quickly and you can get out of there!

He was slowly rising over her, his body surprisingly agile for such an old man. Something wasn’t right; his body didn’t look anything like as old as she had expected. The paunch suggested by his baggy clothes simply wasn’t there; his old, tired arms were actually quite well muscled; the spindly legs she had expected to see were slim and toned.

But it was far too late for second thoughts! Gaby closed her eyes and spread her legs as he knelt between her thighs. He leaned low over her, his face only a few inches above hers.

His body touched hers, smelling rather pleasantly of cologne instead of the old fashioned soap she had expected. His left hand was by her shoulder, taking his weight while his right hand was deep between her legs.

She felt something warm and smooth rubbing against her inner thigh and bit her lip.

Please just get it over with!

The smooth thing was being rubbed along the crease of her groin; thank God it wasn’t too revolting. Now it was being rubbed up and down her slit; that felt nicer than she had expected too – much nicer. Maybe the ordeal wouldn’t be too bad after all if she didn’t think who it was doing these things to her. She closed her eyes.

The smooth object was now working its way up and down her slit, rising to her clitoris and falling back to her inner lips. It felt pleasant – very pleasant indeed; not at all what she had expected. Now it was rubbing against her clitoris, lifting its hood and touching the hard nub underneath.

Gaby realised she was becoming seriously aroused; whatever this old man was doing, it was having a profound effect. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t what she had planned!

The smooth end was now against her inner lips, deftly parting them, pressing lightly against the minimal resistance her body was now offering. The Old Man’s body was on hers; she could feel the heat of his chest against her rock hard nipples, his face merely inches from hers as his cock was paused at her hot, moist entrance.

The anticipation was almost unbearable but blessedly did not last long.

“Jesus Christ!”

Gaby gasped in shock as Professor Hawthorne’s body flexed the smallest amount, his hips tilted and his cock was driven hard into her body.

“Oh fuck!”

Her voice choked in her throat as the huge shaft penetrated her for the first time, thick and strong, stretching her lips tightly around its girth. She tried instinctively to close her legs but his thighs were between hers and prevented it. A moment later his knees had opened, forcing her thighs wider and allowing the huge phallus to plunge deeper into her body.

“Nnnngh!”

What was happening? Gaby’s vagina had never been so filled as the Old Man’s shaft plunged deep into her young body; her head span as her tight passage tried desperately to adjust to the enormous presence within her.

She panted as his right arm moved to her other shoulder then, his weight balanced, the Professor began to pull back from her youthful body.

‘Oh God!’ Gaby thought, knowing what was sure to happen next, ‘What have I done?’

Before her spinning head could adjust, the Old Man thrust himself forward, forcibly penetrating her even deeper; stretching her even wider.

“Oh Christ!”

Two more powerful thrusts and she felt the weight of his body on her hips as he bottomed out inside her, his groin pressing hard onto hers, his pubic bone resting hard against her mound. He paused briefly.

Gaby’s mind struggled to understand what had just happened. Her tutor’s cock was now deep inside her body, his thick base stretching her entrance, his pubic hair grinding against her own, his unexpectedly huge cock filling her completely.

It was not supposed to be like this! But it felt... incredible!

“Ohhh…!”

With a slow but gradually increasing pace, Professor Hawthorne drew himself back until just his head was inside Gaby’s body, then thrust hard into her. She yelped in shock.

“Oh God!”

He thrust again, then once more, his long, thick erection driving hard into Gaby’s vagina, plunging deep into her fast-yielding flesh, rubbing hard against her increasingly-sensitive inner lips until she could feel every ridge and undulation on his shaft.

And then he began to fuck her. Hard. His thrusts growing faster and more forceful with no sign of tiring.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

Gaby could see her large breasts wobbling up and down on her chest with every powerful stroke of his cock.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

The strength of his thrusts and the energy of the Old Man’s pace took Gaby entirely by surprise. The control she had confidently expected to have over him was turned completely on its head. She was the one being fucked; she was the one being taken.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

“Oh my God no!” she gasped as his long, rhythmic strokes gathered pace and a warm glow began to radiate from her vulva into her belly.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

The powerful, rock steady rhythm of his thrusting filled the room with the wet, feral sounds of sex. Gaby felt herself lubricating faster and faster.

Slap-Slap. Slap-slap.

His pace increased again; a warm glow appeared in her lower belly and the room began to fill with the deep, heady aroma of female arousal. This really wasn’t supposed to be happening! This old, unattractive man wasn’t supposed to be making her feel like this so quickly and so easily.

Slap-slap-slap. Slap-slap-slap.

“Ohhhjeeessuuusss!”

The first minor orgasm took her entirely by surprise, robbing her of breath but he didn’t even pause. His thrusting hips forced her knees hard against her breasts as he hammered relentlessly into her helpless body with a long, deep, machine-like pace.

Slap-slap-slap-slap. Slap-slap-slap-slap.

“Ohhhhhhhooowwwwww!”

Moisture was pouring from her vulva as the Old Man’s shaft pistoned into her; a new wet sound echoed round the room.

Shlap-shlap-shlap-shlap. Shlap-shlap-shlap-shlap.

The second wave of climax followed so quickly that Gaby barely had time to gather her senses and when the third, much bigger orgasmic pulse wracked her body, she was helplessly out of control

“JeeeessussssssChrriiiissssstttt!”

Gaby’s eyes flew open, her pupils huge and black and fixed on the face only inches above hers. It should have been reassuring, it should have been comforting but instead its eyes were hard and determined as the Professor’s body slammed into hers.

“Ooooohhhhhhh!”

The pungent smell of an orgasming female body filled the room as Gaby surrendered completely to Hawthorne’s desires. Before she could even think of protesting, he had pulled himself from her body and his surprisingly strong arms had effortlessly flipped her onto her front.

A moment later her bottom had been raised and a pillow thrust under her hips, presenting her buttocks and vulva obscenely to him.

A moment after that, his cock entered her violently.

Gaby yelped in shock as he penetrated her again and began to thrust hard from behind, driving her pretty face into the clean white sheet.

“OhhhhhGooodddd!”

The new, expertly arranged position dragged the head of his mighty cock and the upper side of its shaft across her G-spot with every powerful thrust. No-one had ever fucked her like this before; no-one, man or boy had had the sheer experience and expertise to bring Gaby to a climax as powerful; as intense as the wave that immediately consumed her.

“Oh my God! Oh my fucking Godddd!”

Gaby’s squeal as the massive orgasm overwhelmed her, echoed round the room. For a second the Professor paused as if worried someone would hear and come running to help a damsel in distress.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

Gaby heard herself beg, beyond caring then screamed into the mattress again and again as he resumed his thrusting with a vengeance. Astonishment mixed with incredible pleasure overwhelmed her as wave after wave of climax simply swamped her mind and body.

The soft womanly flesh of her buttocks rippled every time his hips struck their round undersides. Resounding slaps filled the room, made louder and wetter as her juices flowed freely and his thrusting cock churned then to foam.

Gaby thought she was going to die; her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. At the very least she was sure she would pee herself. Her entire body from her belly to her knees was far beyond her control, totally at the mercy of this extraordinary Old Man.

Another surge of orgasm rippled outwards from her vulva and through her entire body, choking off even the coarse animal grunts that she had been growling into the mattress.

“Please! Enough! No more!”

As if sensing her complete surrender, the Professor increased his pace until his hips were slamming into Gaby’s buttocks like a jack-hammer, filling the room with grotesque wet slapping sounds.

“Oh my God no!” Gaby’s fuddled brain could think nothing more.

“Oh... my... God... yes... Miss... Mackay!” came the response from behind her in time with his thrusts.

And then he began to climax, the rock steady rhythm of his thrusts breaking into wild, half controlled spasms as he began to ejaculate inside her young body. Gaby could feel the throbbing of his cock within her as semen cascaded from his tiny lips and spurted against her youthful cervix.

“Nnnnnnggghhhhh!”

“OhhhhhhhhJesusssss!”

“Yesssssssss!”

The incredible insemination seemed to last forever as the Old Man’s hips slapped over and over into Gaby’s buttocks and his pulsating cock pumped rope after rope of semen into her. The force of his final thrusts knocked her forwards on the mattress, burying her sweating face into the rumpled sheet. His body followed hers, his cock still buried within her until he lay heavy against her back, crushing her breasts into the bed.

Mercifully, Gaby finally felt the throbbing within her slow and stop and the huge erection that had brought her so much pleasure began to soften within her wet, loose vagina.

“Oh my... my... Oh...”

As the once-mighty erection was slowly withdrawn from her spent body, Gaby’s voice was incoherent and her head was spinning.

She fell into an exhausted sleep, face down on the Old Man’s bed. It was finally over!

Professor Hawthorne rose to his feet, beads of sweat on his back, shoulders and forehead, his breathing deep and heavy. His cock, now sore and flaccid, hung large, angry and dark red between his thighs.

There was a broad, satisfied smile on his face as he watched the girl’s body finally relax and her breathing become slow and deep.

Silently he pulled the thin duvet over her motionless form and walked slowly into the bathroom.

*

Later that evening, Professor Hawthorn leaned back in his chair, took a long, satisfying sip of his favourite single malt and smiled at the two large computer screens in front of him. He clicked ‘play’ and watched the frozen image on the left hand screen burst into life.

The face of the young, naked, very pretty girl stared unknowingly into the camera, its features twisted and contorted as the man behind her moved inexorably forwards and his erect penis entered her body.

No matter how many times he watched, Hawthorn loved this moment best of all; the moment when realisation struck them.

Distaste; maybe even disgust at having this old man’s body entering theirs.

Surprise at the entirely unexpected size of the erection invading their young vaginas.

Shock when they realised that this invading monster was being wielded by an expert.

Amazement minutes later as their bodies rocked and pulsated out of control with the real, genuine pleasure the monster cock was delivering.

And then afterwards as they left his rooms, their faces and chests flushed, their legs stiff with the familiar post-orgasmic ache as they crossed the quad, the feeling of horror as they realised that they had in some irreversible way, become a whore.

Bless the young, he thought; they were so easy to fool. He smiled at the sweet, climaxing face on the screen.

Bless these students with their youth, their confidence; their arrogant and steadfast belief that everything challenging and modern was so much better than everything from their parents’ or, God help us, their Grandparents’ generation.

So simple, so naive, so gullible.

He had worked hard on his Professorial look. Appearing distracted and unworldly had long been an advantage professionally among the dreaming spires of Oxford but he had quickly found it helped put young students off their guard too.

It was amazing how these kids who were supposedly the intellectual future of the country were unable to see beyond the old fashioned cardigan and tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. It was saddening how easily they thought they could take advantage of their rather sweet, unworldly, bookish tutor.

Few knew that, despite his age, underneath that carefully constructed exterior lay a well-toned, still athletic body, a wholly unexpected sexual energy and an enviable endowment within his close fitting underwear.

Most of his students believed him to be a lifelong bachelor, possibly a closet homosexual but certainly sexually inexperienced.

They did not know that both his previous wives had divorced him for sustained infidelity with a series of lovers who had been more than satisfied with his bedroom technique. The resulting divorce settlements had been so severe that he was now obliged to live in University property with the prospect of a laughably small pension.

So he had created his archive; a collection of evidence that could be used, if necessary, to provide him with a more secure future. Professor Hawthorne privately referred to it as his ‘Pension Plan’.

Even today, graduating from Oxford was a ticket to a bright and highly profitable career. It was only natural that many of his former students – especially those to whom he had given ‘special tuition’ – should want to help their former tutor financially as they grew wealthier and he grew older.

It was a few years before retirement stared him in the face and even longer before he would need to ask some of his former ‘special’ students for a little financial assistance but the time would eventually come.

And with careers and families to protect, he was confident they would pay. Best of all, his parasitic ex-wives would get none of this unofficial income!

He watched the girl a few minutes longer, her mouth open wide, her eyes first closed then staring into nothing as another wave of orgasm rolled through her heaving body, her arms gave way beneath her and her face fell to the mattress. Above her exposed bottom, the torso of the man behind was clearly visible; the man who was thrusting inexorably into her vagina.

The torso of a familiar but of a much younger man.

The picture quality wasn’t great; in those days he had used video tape and, even with the state-of-the-art editing equipment that he now possessed, it couldn’t compare with the High Definition in which he now recorded his conquests.

Still, the resemblance to Gaby was quite remarkable, and so it should be.

The girl was now biting the edge of the pillow as she came over and over again, the man behind her thrusting hard into her like a jack-hammer, his hands gripping her hips tightly, pulling her bodily back onto his cock with every thrust. She still wore her bra, though her large breasts had escaped their constraints with the violence of their copulation.

As the girl raised her face to the hidden camera, he pressed ‘pause’ and the picture froze. The girl’s pretty face, mouth and eyes wide open, stared sightlessly into the concealed lens. He looked at the right hand screen where Gaby’s sweet face in a similar but inverted pose was also frozen.

The resemblance was astonishing; the eyes, the prominent cheekbones were the same. He smiled as he sat back in his chair; mother and daughter over twenty years apart, both caught in mid-climax, both beautiful, both determined, both unscrupulous.

Gaby was a lovely girl, just like her mother Julie had been; fresh, young and remarkably willing once his cock was inside her and it had all started. She would be better in the next visit, better still afterwards. His mind briefly ran over all the things he would like to do with her young body and which he was confident she would willingly agree to.

His eyes twinkled as he remembered the moment over twenty years ago when the girl’s mother had left the same staircase with the same distinctive freshly-fucked gait. He hadn’t reached the dizzy heights of Professor then; he had merely been a lecturer but had been responsible for marking the key paper the young Julie had needed to pass.

What was Julie now? A Queen’s Counsel working in Lincoln’s Inn. He had always known the girl had drive; no more than adequate talent but a ruthless determination to succeed that would get her wherever she wanted to be.

Strange how it was the driven, determined girls that were easiest to get into bed; those with most to gain. Like her daughter, Julie would have achieved a high Upper Second degree anyway; their handful of afternoons in his bed had been merely an insurance policy on her part to ensure she got the ‘First’ she so badly wanted.

He wondered whether she had used her body tactically throughout her rise to the powerful position she now held.

Once a whore…?

He pressed ‘play’ again. The couple on the screen burst into life at the exact moment their copulation reached its natural end. The man was ejaculating deep inside the girl’s vagina, and she was mumbling incoherently in a combination of relief and delight. He watched the thrusting slow, stop and the girl collapse forwards on the bed, leaving her lover’s cock dangling large, angry, red and bare.

How times had changed. He hadn’t even considered using a condom or ‘Johnny’ as they were called in those days. Twenty-something years ago AIDS was considered the ‘gay plague’, nothing to do with heterosexual sex and ‘the clap’ was something that happened to the poor and ignorant not University staff or students.

The only real worry was about getting pregnant but with a true old-school mentality, he had always left that precaution to the girls themselves. He was sure Gaby was sensible in that respect; the semen swimming around in her body as she walked home would have a fruitless journey to her young womb.

He clicked back to the Explorer screen and looked at the long list of files; at least one for every year he had been at Oxford. Some years had several for the same girl, some had several girls in the same year. There had been very few barren years during his lengthy tenure.

He looked briefly at the file he had just watched. What was the date? He remembered that sunny spring afternoon in late March when the young Julie had first given herself to him. Was it really twenty-three years ago?

His memory for dates wasn’t what it used to be but his memory for conquests was still perfect; Julie Mackay had been in her very early twenties, soft and smooth with delicate skin and one of the tightest vaginas he had ever fucked. She had been only a few months from her final examinations, hence her desperation to succeed and the extremes she had been willing to go to.

Her daughter’s skin had felt the same but her body had been more toned and fit. Sadly, Gaby’s vagina had been looser and had a rather more ‘used’ feel which he had found disappointing. Her mother couldn’t have been far from a virgin – might even have actually been one - when he had first taken her in the same room in which he had fucked Gaby more than twenty years later.

In contrast, her slut of a daughter had played the tart from the outset. He smiled again; the arrogance of the young, thinking she could outwit a man as clever as he was. She wasn’t so arrogant now, he was sure about that.

Professor Hawthorne had enjoyed taking Gaby; he always liked it when silly girls underestimated his stamina and determination. It made it even sweeter when he actually entered them and they suddenly realised they were going to be fucked half senseless by an old man they thought they could exploit.

Gaby hadn’t been the worst, but seeing the look of shock on her face on his video had been priceless. She would be back for more too and he would give her more, all on camera.

Professor Hawthorne casually opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and glanced at the collection of leather, stainless steel and latex inside.

Perhaps she might even be ready for his ‘special collection’.

Roll on Thursday morning!