Prof Wants One Student, Must Avoid Another free porn video

It was the first day of the Fall semester, and I was watching students file down the stairs and take their seats in the pit lecture room I was assigned. As usual I was prepared for lecture and could afford the luxury of people watching. I was particularly amused this day because it was the first time in several years that I was teaching Chemistry for non-majors. The class was mostly filled with first year students, and it was this aspect which amused me.

It's fun to watch the new students, eager to try impress the rest of the college campus with antics that are purely high-school in their design. I watched the guys strut in with their chests out, their hair gelled, and their shirts too tight to reveal their muscles and tattoos. I watched the women walk in -- carefully made up with new hairdos and short shorts with writing across the rear. Regardless of what the letters spelled, it always meant the same thing, "Look at my ass." This annual parade is so much fun, because you know that by the end of the semester these same students will come rolling in wearing dirty sweats and unabashedly sporting bed hair.

Somehow I've always had a built in mechanism that prevents me from being attracted to the young women in my classes, no matter how sexy they dress. Ever since my first year of teaching in grad school, the appearance of a woman in my class has automatically kicked on some sort of paternal or brotherly instinct switch in me. Even when I was only a couple of years older than these students, I couldn't date them because I felt like their big brother. Now, that I was 50 and recently widowed, this built in paternal feeling kept me both from looking like the old lecherous prof and from doing something that might compromise my underpaying job.

Then, just before the bell rang, a woman walked in who commanded my attention like no student had in 20 years of teaching. She stood out for 3 reasons. First, she was dressed in a conservative dark blue women's business suit -- skirt just below the knee, well-tailored blazer, plain blouse underneath, dress heels. This type of outfit was unheard of for anyone on campus except upper administration. Second, even given the conservative nature of her suit, her figure stood out as remarkable. Full, curvaceous hips that narrowed to a fine waistline, large, rounded breasts that even the uptight suit couldn't keep from jiggling enticingly as she came down the stairs. But her most remarkable physical feature was her dark, sultry face -- dark eyes and olive complexion nestled under a perfect coif of dark brown hair. This woman was Sophia Loren at 40 -- only more so. Which leads me to the third way in which she stood out from your typical college student. She was probably twice the age of every student in there. She could have been as young as 30, but her presence suggested a mature woman in her 40's. It was probably this last feature that caused my anti-student-attraction switch to malfunction, or maybe it was because she looked like every dream girl I ever had. Regardless of the cause, I was definitely attracted to this beauty from the first moment I saw her.

All these thoughts went through my head in the brief few seconds that it took this woman to walk to the front of the room and take a seat. Luckily, almost everyone else was looking at her too, so my leer probably wasn't noticed. As she entered, she looked incredibly lost, which when combined with her odd style of dress caused all the 19 year old women in the room to stare and smirk. With her smoking looks, I guarantee that every guy in the room was having a MILF fantasy.

I began class, and for the first time in my career it was difficult to stay focused on my lecture. Wednesday and Friday of that week were the same. This Mediterranean goddess dressed in business suits and sat in the front of the room. While the exposed curve of her calves and her large, seductive eyes did their best to attract my eyes and my thoughts, I managed to hit my stride and carried on my lectures pretty much as normal. The one exception was at the end of lecture that Friday. By the end of the first week, students start to realize that college isn't high school and they might need a little more help. So, I always end my lecture on that first Friday with a compassionate reminder that I'm happy to help them during my office hours, and that they can make additional appointments with them. On this instance, I realized I was staring right at my Mediterranean goddess when I said, "I'd really enjoy helping you outside of class if you need it." This realization brought a flush to my face, but the students were already eagerly departing for their weekend parties; so, no one noticed. Or at least I hoped so.

Sitting home alone that Friday night I found myself hoping that my Mediterranean goddess had noticed my staring at her and that she had enjoyed it. I found myself fantasizing about removing her blazer. In my fantasy, she was smiling seductively at me and cooed when I began to undo the buttons of her blouse. I've always been a breast man, and hers were deliciously large. The thought of removing her conservative blazer and blouse to reveal her massive mounds enclosed by sexy black bra was too much for me. I was rock hard, and I'd only gotten this far into the fantasy. Suddenly, in my fantasy world I was undressing her in the class room. The forbidden nature of this turn put me over the edge. It didn't take my hand much work, and I exploded into the best orgasm since my late wife had taken ill.

I tried my best not to become obsessed with this woman, but I had to at least know her name. In a class of 125 it's not easy to know anyone's name. She was "My Mediterranean Goddess", but I had to really know who she was. It was unlikely that she would respond to my request to come into office hours, so I devised a plan.

The following Monday I brought my camera to class. I ended class 10 minutes early and explained to the students that I was going to take all their pictures in groups of 4 to 5 students so that I could get to know them. I told them I would bring the pictures back to the Wednesday lecture when they would fill in their names below their picture so I could start to match faces to names. This went smoothly, and I got photos of all the students including the one who I was most interested in.

That night I downloaded the pix to my home computer and began placing lines under each student's image so they could fill in their names. When I got to the photo containing the likeness in my Mediterranean goddess, I stopped and took my time to observe. She had broken from the business suit mode and had on a more typical college outfit. She had on a peasant blouse which was designed to hang a little loosely on its wearer. However, her bosom was so full that it stretched the blouse out tight at chest level, leaving to hang loosely below. Mmmm. I took extra time to enjoy the expanded neckline the blouse revealed. It didn't show any cleavage, but I could see quite a bit of her upper chest and shoulders. She had just the right amount of roundedness, and her olive complexion glowed with warmth. She had on a pair of Capri pants. I recalled watching as she turned to put her backpack down next to her seat. The pants were perfectly form-fitted to her full, luscious ass. In this outfit, she truly was Sophia Loren come to life in my class. An image of me kneeling behind her naked ass popped into my head. In my fantasy, I reached down to guide my engorged cock into her velvet pussy. ...

Suddenly, I realized with a shock that I was rubbing my crotch. "Stop this, Dr. Wilson," I said aloud to myself. This was clearly not right. I had started with a plan merely to learn her name. Now I realized that I had actually obtained a picture of her and I was starting to use it as whacking material. While Mr. Chubby was yelling at me to continue, my conscience realized that I just couldn't do this. It was partly my sense of my moral obligation to all students in my class, and partly because I had already started to feel true affection for my Mediterranean goddess. I didn't really realize it then, but looking back I already respected her and I desperately wanted her to respect me. I couldn't use her picture for these nefarious purposes. So, I moved onto the next image until I finished adding lines to all and printed them.

On Wednesday, I saved 10 minutes at the end of lecture for students to write their names beneath their picture. This went smoothly. I noticed that the woman of my interest was again wearing casual clothes. Back in my office, I quickly shuffled through the stack of photos to find hers. There she was -- Maria del Carpio. Finally, a name with the face. West Side Story music started running through my head "Mariaaa. I just met a girl named Maria."

I was jolted from my reverie by the voice of one of my colleagues at my office door. Looking at my stack of photos he queried skeptically, "So, what are you doing there, Carl?"

"Oh, I've got one of the big Intro Chem lectures, and I thought I'd try this new technique to learn names." I explained that I would go over their pictures and names like flashcards to memorize who they were.

"Yeah, I've heard of that technique at a teaching workshop," he replied. "It seemed like too much work at the time. Let me know if it works for you." With that, he moved on down the hall.

I was relieved that my colleague didn't think I was a weirdo, but I was disappointed that my "new technique" wasn't new at all. I had always planned on following through with learning their names, but now I was determined to succeed as quickly as possible. I had Maria down -- I wasn't going to forget that one. I started by locating the photos of the five or six students who had already asked questions in class. I learned them first because the same students tend to be the ones who participate all the time. Later that night at home. I worked hard to get down about 25 of the names.

By Friday's lecture, I could name about 40 of the students in their photos, plus Maria. About 10 minutes into lecture I got a question from one of the students whom I had studied because he had previously asked a question. I smiled inwardly and responded, "Good question, Justin. ..." The answer doesn't matter, but Justin was pretty shocked that I knew his name. To my pleasure, other students also looked surprised. Well, my little self-serving scheme might actually improve my teaching. About 15 minutes later, I asked the class a question, and luckily another one of the students whose names I had memorized responded. I also addressed him by name. Two for two.

About five minutes before the end of class, Maria held up her hand. It took everything I had to swallow my excitement. "Yes, Maria," I said with apparent exterior calm. Inside, my heart was pounding. Her question indicated that she really wasn't following the concept of electron shells in atomic structure. I tried my best to answer her question, but knew from experience that it probably wouldn't be sufficient help for her level confusion. If I went back far enough to explain what she was missing it would mean boring most of the students and worst of all point out to the other students that my Mediterranean goddess was pretty lost. At the end of my explanation, it was the end of class time. Students started packing up and filing out. Just as I would do for any student, I wandered over to Maria in the front row and asked, "Did my explanation answer your question sufficiently?"

Maria looked straight into my eyes (schwingg!) with a somewhat tense look on her face. I could tell that she was trying to decide how to respond. Finally, she went with the truth, and replied, "Not quite. I still feel a little confused." When she spoke her tenseness left, and she looked vulnerable.

Before I could think it through, I blurted out the response I'd give any student, "Well, why don't you stop by my office later where we can take more time to talk." Over half of my brain was pre-occupied getting lost in her big, dark eyes that seemed so hopeful, innocent, and sultry all at the same time. I hoped my statement hadn't sounded like a come on, but I couldn't focus.

Maria half-shrugged and said noncommittally, "Oh, yes. I probably should." It was past time for both of us to clear out so I smiled as non-lecherously as I could and went back to the podium to gather up my materials.

During my office hours that day, I spent the whole time hoping that every little sound in the hall was Maria coming in for help. Even though after the first five minutes I was beating myself up for blowing my chance, I kept looking for her. I tried to focus on work, but it was no good. All I could do was go over in my head all the things I'd done and said wrong and how I should have done and said them. Well, that, and keep an eye out for Maria. I realized then that I had it bad. My wife and I had been happily married for 25 years before she passed on a little over a year ago. Therefore, it had been a very long time since I had been so concerned over what a woman thought of me -- if she thought of me. I even stayed in my office long after five pm on a Friday night. By that time there wasn't a student in the building, but my hopes that Maria might stop by had become completely irrational.

That weekend I worked hard to learn as many student names as possible. After I got to about 75 who I could name confidently, the process got much tougher. The educator in me told me that I had probably reached brain capacity for sheer memorization at this time. To keep my mind occupied, I tried to spend the rest of the weekend productively. I tried working on a research paper I was writing; I tried puttering around the garden; I tried a thorough Fall house cleaning. But not even watching football could successfully distract me from my daydreams of Maria. In my mind we spent the whole weekend like a happy dating couple. We held hands, shared wine, and stared into each other's eyes. I snuck glances of her gorgeous derriere, of the ample cleavage of her bosom, and an imagined camel-toe. Somehow, I didn't have to work to keep my fantasies PG rated. I told myself it was because I was maintaining a proper teacher/student distance. Now I know that it was because I so strongly hoped that someday I would live these fantasies with Maria that I wanted to leave the rest of the fantasies to real life. By Sunday night I had begun to exhaust the possibilities of these PG fantasies, which somehow made me start to realize that the chances that Maria and I would develop anything other than a student/professor relationship was pretty close to zero.

Back at work Monday, I was busy enough to temporarily forget about Maria. I was restructuring my upper level class that meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which required all the brainpower I could bring to the situation. I also had numerous emailed questions from students to answer, and a few faculty committee items to attend to. When the electronic calendar reminder went off 1.5 hours before my afternoon Intro Chem class to tell me to prepare, I thought briefly of my Mediterranean goddess, but I quickly focused on reviewing my lecture before class. So, by the time the class began, I had reached a level of comfort that I hadn't felt in days. I was in the faculty groove and had put the middle-aged puppy love phase behind me. At least until Maria walked into the classroom.

Before class I was chatting with some students about the weekend's football games, when I looked up to see Maria bouncing down the stairs. She was dressed in a tight scooped neck t-shirt and jeans. Simple when you say it, but not if you saw her in it. Although giving ample views of her lustrous olive skin, her t-shirt still stopped just short of revealing any of her ample cleavage. But the tight fit showed off her heart-stopping figure better than anything she had worn before. I couldn't help but stare momentarily as her luscious boobs jiggled with each step. They have to be at least double E's I thought to myself. Their effect was accentuated by the fact that her shirt tapered with her narrow waist. Her hips succulently swelled below her waist in her tight fitting jeans. I'm sure that for many of the 20somethings in the class, Maria's waist was probably not narrow enough. But I prefer a well-rounded woman, and in comparison to her exceptionally endowed top and wide hips Maria's waist made a perfect hourglass shape.

I realized that one of the students was asking for the second time whether I had seen the fantastic fourth quarter catch that had lifted the Vikings over the much-hated Bears. I returned from my reverie and answered, "Yes, that was an awesome play."

One of the guys in this group noticed where my attention had been and chided, "I think that Dr. Wilson maybe occupied with more interesting things than football, Mandy." I felt quite embarrassed and tried to pass off the situation as being occupied by a problem in my research program. I don't think the students bought it, and Mandy the blonde young lady who had been asking me the question seemed put out by the fact that I could ignore her. Although not quite my type (too young and too blonde), Mandy was a quite attractive young woman who was likely used to commanding the complete attention of every man in the room. As I awkwardly excused myself to start lecture, I could swear that Mandy had a little pouty look on her face.

I put aside the fact that at least four students in the class knew that I was attracted to Maria and concentrated on giving a great lecture. I stopped 20 minutes before the end of lecture to give a quiz. As I handed out the quiz I reminded the students, "This quiz is mainly for you to judge how well you will be prepared for next Monday's exam. There only two questions, both of which are rather long. One question is one that I expect everyone should get if they have been keeping up with the class and represents the difficultly of about 75% next week's exam. The other question is much more challenging. It's meant to separate the As from the Bs. About 25% of the upcoming exam will be at this level of difficulty."

As the students took the quiz, I quietly organized my lecture material. If it hadn't been for the earlier incident, I would probably take this time to steal some significant glances at Maria. However, I was concerned that the four students in front would be watching me for just this behavior. So, I looked over at these students instead. I was met with an extraordinary view of Mandy's cleavage. She had on a low-cut revealing t-shirt anyway, but I could swear that she was leaning farther forward than necessary. Her perky tits were squeezed between her arms, in a way that seemed purposeful. Mandy was no where nearly as well endowed as Maria, but she had a full C cup which she was currently exposing to almost nipple level. I didn't let my eyes rest there too long, because I didn't want to start the rumor of the horny chem professor today.

I started reading a journal article. In a few minutes, I looked out over the class to see if there were questions. My perusal of the room started slowly in Maria's direction, letting me glimpse her without raising attention. At this point, all students were hard at work, with their attention full on their task at hand. In comparison, Maria seemed uncomfortable with a somewhat pained look on her face. My scan ended on Mandy's side of the room. Again, Mandy was displaying a magnificent view that no straight man could avoid looking at. At just that moment Mandy looked up and caught me eyeing her. I tried to nonchalantly return my attention to my paper so it wouldn't seem like I was "caught." In that brief time, a self-satisfied smile grew on Mandy's face.

I was now caught between trying not to think about a woman with whom I was obsessed and trying not think about a hot young blond who seemed to be showing off for me. I went from the guy who never noticed this stuff in class to a guy who was tormented on both sides of the room. As the time for the quiz winded down, I again scanned the room for questions. I allowed myself to take full notice of Maria, but I didn't let my gaze take in Mandy. It was only a minute before my curiosity made me take furtive peek in Mandy's direction. It might have been my imagination, but it now seemed that her arms were squeezing her breasts tighter, making them swell even more. What clearly wasn't my imagination was the fact that Mandy's nipples were now hard and straining against her top.

"Okay, time's up. Please hand in your quizzes." I worked hard not to look at either source of my torture, but instead thanked students and wished them well as they handed in their quizzes. When Mandy turned in her quiz she smiled impishly at me and said, "I didn't think it was too hard. But I could see how some people could feel it was hard." She put an odd emphasis on "could feel it was hard" and paused a moment too long. She was probably waiting to see if her double entendre had an effect.

I looked at her straight in the eye and coolly replied, "I hope that everyone did equally well." Although my eyes had never strayed below her eyelevel, I could still tell that her high beams were shining brightly through her top. As Mandy walked away, I proudly thought to myself, one potential problem averted.

Maria was one of the last students to turn in her quiz. She dropped it off quickly, hurrying out of the lecture hall without making eye contact with me. This behavior usually is a sign that a student performed well below their expectations on an exam. At first I felt sorry for her, but then on the walk to my office I started to worry that perhaps she had seen me looking at Mandy. Maybe I had offended her or let her down. Maybe she was now repulsed by her lecherous old professor ogling the younglings in the class.

I set to grading the quiz and quickly learned that Maria likely scurried out because she was embarrassed by her performance. When I recalled her confused question in lecture, I wasn't surprised at her low D grade. I always feel bad when students perform poorly, but this hit me personally as I was clearly pulling for my lovely Mediterranean goddess. I found myself wishing desperately that Maria's poor performance was the only reason that she avoided me.

On the other hand, Mandy did quite well, only missing a couple of points on the difficult question. When I started my teaching career I might have been chauvinistic enough to be surprised by such a strong effort by a giggly, bubbly, apparently air-headed cheerleader type. However, I had learned long ago that looks often really were deceiving.

When I handed back quizzes on Wednesday, I gave my usual spiel that I was extra available to provide help this week. I reminded the students that the quiz itself wouldn't have much effect on their grade, but that the upcoming exam would. So, they should get help and/or get to work as soon as possible. Of course I snuck glances Maria's way throughout the day but did my best to ignore a suggestively dressed Mandy. I hoped that my encouragement to seek help would persuade Maria to visit my office, but I didn't consider how it would affect Mandy.

About 10 minutes after I returned to my office, I heard a vivacious, "Do you have time for me now, Carl?" I looked up to see Mandy standing seductively in the door. She had all her weight on one leg which caused her hips to stick out provocatively on the other side. This effect was accentuated by the fact that she was wearing extremely short cut-off jeans. She had a V-necked t-shirt on top, which unlike Maria's from the other day was designed to show plenty of her newly ripened cleavage. She held her books against her body in a way that lifted her bust line up even farther than its normal pertness.

I coolly replied, "Sure. What can I help you with?" I managed to maintain my composure and to sound like a friendly father figure -- or so I thought.

Mandy looked a little disappointed and added a little less vivaciously, "You did say we could call you by your first name, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes," I assured. "It's just that most first semester students don't feel comfortable with that. But I'm always glad when they do." Her spirited disposition quickly returned. As I pointed to the chair I keep on the right side of my desk for students, I added, "Why don't you have a seat." I didn't want her hanging out in my doorway dressed like a car shop calendar girl.

Mandy pulled the chair up to the side of my desk, leaning low as she did. I managed not to look down her shirt. "I just have some questions about the parts of the quiz I missed. I saw the correct answers on Brad's quiz, but I don't know how to get there." She affected a slightly pouty demeanor, conveying more of an "I'm lost" attitude that I'm sure she really felt. I'd seen students like this dozens of times. If Mandy went home and worked it through on her own, she would figure out her own answers, but students like this want extra help from the professor. Sometimes they just want some face time with someone who can eventually write them a letter of recommendation. Sometimes they have a slight lack of self-confidence and need a little hand-holding at the start of the semester.

"Well, as I recall you did pretty well on most of the quiz. So, I'm sure you could eventually work this out on your own, but let's work it out together as long as you're here."

"Yeah. I'm sure working together is just what I need." Mandy put that unusual emphasis on "together" that I heard her use before. I hoped she wasn't hinting at what I was afraid she was hinting at. No. You're too old and too unremarkable, I told myself.

I reviewed her quiz to familiarize myself with her mistakes and asked what she didn't understand. I reviewed the concept on which the question was based, and I explained the strategy for solving it. I looked her straight in the face as I did this. She was showing a lot of flesh, but I wasn't about to give in and look. When I finished, she had a puzzled look on her face.

"I'm still not quite getting it," she said slowly. She seemed entirely sincere in her confusion.

"Let's look at it this way," I replied. As I spoke, I got out a sheet of scratch paper and a pencil. I began drawing out a diagram to illustrate the concept. My drawing became more and more elaborate as I got completely caught up in the concepts at hand.

Before I could complete my mini-lecture, Mandy got that satisfying "I've got it" look, and actually said excitedly, "I think I have it now. Let me see if I can finish this." Instead of taking the paper from me, she moved her chair around the corner of my desk so that she was right next to me. Her bare leg rubbed against mine. Her right hand reached around mine and took the pencil from my grasp. She began adding to my drawing, filling in the details perfectly. Of course to reach around my arm, she had to lean forward which provided a perfect view down her blouse. It took a Herculean effort, but I didn't allow my eyes to leave the paper and wander to her cleavage. Instead, I removed my hand from the paper and sat back a little, giving her easy access to the paper. I hoped she would pull the paper to her so that we didn't have to be so close to each other. However, she kept working at an odd angle and leaned closer to me, bringing the side of her juicy left breast against the side of my arm.

I had started out completely focused on my explanation, but now with the pressure of her leg on mine and her boob on my arm, my head was starting cloud. I couldn't let that happen and scooted my chair a little to the left, providing separation between our flesh. This move gave her more room to work, so it didn't look too much like I was escaping. My eyes remained locked on the paper, because they might get me in trouble otherwise. Mandy finished the drawing, explaining as she went. She then quickly proceeded to solve the part of the problem that had stumped her on the quiz. She was absolutely correct and I felt proud as a teacher. That paternal feeling grew in me, providing some armor against her bountiful womanly charms.

"Yes, you've got it precisely!" I exclaimed clearly pleased. "I thought you'd pick it up if we looked at it from a different angle."

Mandy smiled at me happily, and proclaimed "We work really well together." As she spoke, she slipped her left hand across the top of my thigh to squeeze its inside edge. Her look went from cheerful to sultry. A note of arousal trumpeted through my body. At the same time an alarm of warning clanged in my head. Her hand started caressing my thigh. Before she could really get a good fondle in, I stood up quickly.

"Well, I think that you are ready to solve the other part you missed on your own. But I want to give you a reference to help." As I turned toward my bookshelf, I thought I caught a glimpse of someone going by my office door. I quickly found the book that experience told me would help Mandy. I leaned over my chair placing the book on the desk so that I didn't have to sit next to her again. I rapidly found and marked the appropriate place. "Here it is. This book covers this topic completely differently than our text. I think between the two, you'll have no problem mastering the rest of this material." I felt that I had executed my escape from Mandy relatively smoothly, but I didn't want it to seem like I was driving her out of my office. To this end, I added, "I really think that you'll make the material your own and be able to apply it better on the exam if you work the rest out on your own. Research on learning shows that people only really achieve lasting learning when they construct their own learning." The learning theory stuff was probably over the top, but oh well.

If Mandy was put off by my behavior, she didn't let it show. She hugged the book against her and said, "That sounds like a good idea." There was conviction in her voice, and she had a completely nonplussed attitude. It was as if she thought that fondling a professor's thigh was perfectly normal behavior. I found this attitude odd, but I was just happy that she was easily agreeing to end our learning session. Of course, a small part of me wished that I could be the book pressed against the swells of her chest.

Mandy gathered the rest of her things. As she stepped to the door, she said over her shoulder, "Thanks, Carl. That really helped a lot." Her voice was the sound of pure innocence. She turned and left. I allowed myself the briefest of views of her perfect ass in those short, short cut offs. The vision was brief, but burned into my brain.

As I rode my bike the 15 miles home, I had a headfull to contemplate. The long ride helped to keep me in excellent shape for a guy over 50, and I often solved many research problems riding along the back roads. This time I had to solve personal problems and maybe even face some personal demons instead. If Maria had come to my office and behaved the way Mandy had, I would be hearing fanfares and seeing fireworks. But apparently the woman of my interest had no interest in me. Instead, a 19 or 20 year old hottie had come into my office and came onto me. At least I thought she had. It seemed so incomprehensible to me that Mandy had purposefully flirted with me that I had to review the evidence over and over to convince myself it happened. As unlikely as it seemed, it definitely seemed that Mandy had a pattern of flirting with me. Worse yet, she had seemed to up the ante at every turn.

While Mandy's young age and position as a student in my class strongly activated the part of me which helps me avoid thinking of students in any way other than a professional relationship, her exceptional good looks and flirtatious manner strongly activated the basic male urges of my psyche. In over 20 years of teaching I had never had a woman come onto me like this. In fact, I realized that as I replayed our interactions this afternoon, that a bulge was growing in my shorts. This was a new experience for me while riding a bike.

To distract me from her actions and looks, I reviewed Mandy's potential motivations for her behavior. The most obvious reason for a pretty young thing to flirt with an old prof like me was to influence her grade. It didn't seem like Mandy needed this extra advantage, and her excitement at finally solving a difficult problem suggested that she didn't want to avoid the learning process. Still, this explanation made the most sense. If she was really cunning, maybe she thought she could set me up as a freshman so that she'd get As in all my classes and get the most outstanding letter of recommendation ever when she graduated. No. That plan would take significant cold-hearted calculation to instigate in your first month on campus. While I couldn't figure Mandy out, she didn't seem that cold-hearted.

This contemplation of rationale did squelch my a****l urges for Mandy. Finally, I considered the possibility that she saw me as a figure in power. Maybe she had issues with her father, or didn't know her father. She could be mixed up and ready to have a crush on any mature professor without a hump on his back. At last, I felt only that paternal, protective feeling for Mandy like I did for every student. Well, every student except Maria.

As I closed within a quarter mile of my home, I tried to enjoy the smells, sights, and sounds of the forest where my home was located. I had been riding on autopilot, lost in thought. But now I purposefully took notice of my surroundings. Homes were spread few and far between in here, and I liked it that way. So, when a car I didn't recognize appeared ahead of me I took notice. I tried not to stare at the driver, but I definitely tried to apprise the situation as the car drove toward me. As the car passed me, the evening sun shining through the trees caused a dappled glare off of its windows. However, the driver looked a lot like Maria.

At first I was shocked and almost turned to cycle after the car (as if I could catch it). I soon realized that I just had Maria on my mind. It was silly to think that she would be up here on this road. I found myself wishing it had been her, but I was sure it wasn't.

On Thursday, I kept hoping that Maria would stop by my office for help. After all, I had given her a personal invitation. At first it seemed likely that she would still come by. I could easily rationalize that, like many students, Maria might have had to rush off after my late afternoon class on Wednesday to a job. So, earlier on Thursday would be the time for her to come to me for help. I saw several other students from my gen chem class that day, which kept my rationalization alive. However, by the end of the day, I realized that Maria wasn't coming in for help. She either wasn't the type to seek help or she actually had caught me ogling Mandy that day and was disgusted with me. The bike ride home that day seemed longer than usual.

I was hard at work Friday morning prepping lectures when I heard a tentative knock at my open office door. I looked up to see Maria and nearly fell out of my chair. Well, actually what happened was I dropped the pen I was holding and tried to catch it several times only to knock it up again like a hacky sack. I finally subdued the recalcitrant writing device, but I felt like a complete bumbling fool. Smooth move, Rico Suave I thought to myself.

"Hi, Maria," I stated calmly, trying my best to regain my composure. She was dressed in a loose fitting sweater that was entirely too warm for the weather and baggy hip-hop style jeans. The effect produced by all this fabric was one of trying to cover up her natural physical gifts. It might have worked on Mandy, but Maria's bountiful attributes couldn't be covered up by any such fashion trick.

"Hi, Dr. Wilson," she said sheepishly as she eased her way slightly into my office. "You said we should come see you if we needed help." Although she still emitted an air of maturity far beyond any of her classmates, Maria seemed apprehensive -- unsure of her decision to talk to her professor.

"Yes. Of course. I'm always willing to help." I tried my best to sound reassuring, just like I would with any student who needed help in making the transition to one-on-one interactions with their instructor. "Although I think I do a decent job in the lecture hall, I often think that the best learning occurs here in my office." Again trying to make her feel safe to seek help.

Maria relaxed a little but still seemed tentative as she took the seat to the right of my desk. Her figure was mostly hidden, but man those eyes! As I looked at Maria's face, I was on the brink of getting lost in her sultry, dark eyes. Eyes framed in a perfectly constructed countenance. I thanked my lucky stars that Maria wasn't dressed the way Mandy had been. I knew that I would find it difficult to maintain my concentration even in her conservative manner of dress and didn't need additional distraction.

Maria sighed heavily and said flatly, "I think I'm pretty lost in your class." She sounded like all the joy in life had been sucked from her.

I put on a friendly smile and tried to reassure her. "Well, lots of people get lost in the first semester of chemistry. The good thing is that I've always been able to save them if they are willing to work a little extra."

"Oh I'm willing to do almost anything to learn this material, Dr. Wilson." There was absolutely no hint of any hidden meaning in the phrase "do almost anything." I know it was shameful of me, but I almost wished that she really had meant "anything."

"First, why don't you call me, Carl." I continued without letting her reply. "Let's try to find out where you first started getting off track. I find that's the only way to really make any real progress." We talked back and forth until I finally realized that she had started getting lost in the second lecture of the semester. Wow. That meant almost three weeks of material to catch up on before the exam in three days. We started at the beginning and we made good progress. Each time I re-explained a concept from class Maria caught on. We were all business. She asked questions. I explained. Unlike most students who are eager to explain or provide excuses as to why they aren't doing well, Maria stuck strictly to trying to the learn the topic. While it was nice not to have to hear some of the trumped up excuses I've heard, it made figuring out her real root problem difficult. I could tell that Maria was certainly bright enough, because she was clearly catching on here in my office. But I wanted to know why she had gotten lost so early.

Finally, after working together for over an hour, I gave Maria a couple of problems to solve based on the concepts we had covered. It was then that I figured out why a smart person like Maria had gotten so lost so quickly. Even though she could explain the chemistry concepts to me, she really struggled with the mathematical applications of the concepts. If you don't know much about chemistry, it requires a significant amount of math to solve problems based on the chemical theories. My lectures in class are usually peppered with math both to teach the concepts and to provide examples on problem solving. It was the math that had caused Maria to get lost. Here in my office, I had stayed away from the math in my explanations, which allowed her to at least follow the concepts.

As she sweated over the two problems that I gave her, I tried again to make her struggles feel normal. "Making the transition to apply the concepts is often the hardest part," I stated comfortingly.

Maria put down her pencil in frustration and sighed even deeper that before. "It's been like 30 years since I did this kind of math. I could do it in high school just fine, but that was so long ago." The heaving of her ample chest almost totally derailed my train of thought, but I barely managed to keep the engine on the tracks.

"What? You didn't just graduate high school last year?" I asked in mock surprise.

Maria laughed a "No." Her disposition seemed to lighten for the first time that day. Ha! My attempt at a joke had actually worked. I was really in dangerous territory joking about a woman's age. So, not only had I finally figured out how best to help Maria the student, but I had also may have scored my first point with Maria the Mediterranean goddess.

"Yeah. This is really mostly basic algebra, but so many people forget that you can use it in everyday life that it seems like only us scientists who remember how to use it past the age of 21." She seemed satisfied with my explanation.

I then went over a refresher of basic algebra as it applied to calculating molarities. As she started to catch on, Maria's outlook continued to lighten. Finally, she was able to answer the two problems we had started out with. "I really have it now." Her smile nearly melted my heart. Maria looked at her watch, and her expression suddenly returned to sour. We had now been at it almost 2 hours. "Aiiah! I've taken up almost all of your morning," she said with distress.

"Don't worry. It's my job to help students learn, and I think you learned a fair amount."

"Oh, yes. It was great." Maria had true pride and thankfulness in her voice. "But there's at least another week and a half of material to go through. I can get some of it on my own, but I don't think I'll be able to get most of it on my own." She sighed again. "And the exam is Monday. I don't have another day to come in for help. I waited too long." She seemed disappointed in herself over this last statement.

I've always prided myself on going as far as any student needs to help them learn. In addition, I would practically pay to spend more time with Maria. So I said the following:

"I hate to agree with you, but I do think you'll need some more help to get caught up." I stopped to contemplate my decision, then continued. "If you have time, we can meet tomorrow. I think with another session like this we can get you prepared for the exam." In the back of my mind guilt gnawed at me. Would I have given this opportunity to any student in the class so readily?

Maria looked cheered by my offer, but said, "Oh no. I can't ask you to come in on a Saturday to help me."

"Oh, I'll be working one way or the other tomorrow." True. I was planning on writing up some research results.

"Well ..." Maria looked at me intently -- seeming to size me up carefully. Finally she added, "I'd really like the help, but ... I have to work in the afternoon. So, we'd have to meet in the morning..."

"I was thinking the morning would be best anyway."

"Okay, but I live and work all the way over on the other side of town." Was Maria just being polite or politely trying to tell me "no"?

"Listen, it's eerily quiet around here on a Saturday morning anyway. Why don't we meet at the Java House near the mall on that side of town? I'm sure we can find a corner to work in." I hoped I wasn't pushing too hard.

"Alright," she stated firmly. "How about 9 o'clock?"

So we had plans. Plans for chemistry tutoring. Maybe plans to enjoy coffee and conversation? I gave Maria a couple of additional problems and an extra textbook to work on before our Saturday meeting. Because I needed to go talk to a colleague, I got up with Maria and walked toward my door. My earlier joke had relieved a little pressure; so, I decided to try to make our relationship a little less formal. At the door, I stopped and asked her a simple enough question. "Where do you work on Saturday afternoon?"

"Oh..." she hesitated. "I'm not sure." Her response was odd, but before I could respond, my colleague cut us off.

"Hey, Carl, about those issues I had with the HPLC." As usual, Rob Fountain's voice boomed like he was in a stadium. He then recognized that I was talking to a student. As an afterthought he queried, "Do you have time now?" However, it wasn't an actual question; it was a hint for the student to leave.

Maria picked up on the hint and responded for me. "Yes, I was just on my way." She smiled politely and made her way down the hall. I wanted to watch her walk away but had to turn my attention to Rob. After Rob and I finished our conversation, I contemplated the meaning of Maria's odd answer to my question. How could someone not know where they worked? Then the message hit me clearly. "We can talk about chemistry, but don't get involved in my personal life." I could have sworn that we were starting to feel more like friends, but obviously not as much I had thought. She might be married or involved with a protective significant other. Her lack of wedding band didn't mean anything. I spent all of that evening split between recalling the beauty of her face and trying to figure out a way to develop a less formal relationship with Maria. I finally decided to be nice and typically helpful. If obvious opportunities for small talk came up I wouldn't avoid them, but I would try to contrive them either.

When I arrived at the coffee shop the next morning, Maria was already sitting at a table in a secluded corner. She waved acknowledgement as I came in. I picked up a French roast, black and joined her. As I unloaded the giant bag of books I'd brought, Maria smiled sweetly and said, "I thought this seemed like a good table for us to work."

"Yeah. Plenty of room to spread out, and away from the bulk of traffic." I agreed. "Did you get to work any of those problems I gave you?"

"Yes. It took quite a bit of work at first, but I got better at them as I went." Although Maria seemed all business, she didn't have the deer-in-the-headlights look she had yesterday. "But I started to move on and study the next part, and I got really frustrated again."

"I'm not surprised. There's actually a pretty big jump between the two topics. I think we're going to have to learn a new skill set today." I sat down and started to work.

After about an hour of intensive work, we had gotten through to conceptual framework of the next topic and were about to start on related problems. I picked up and shook my empty coffee cup. "I'm out. I'll get us some more. What are you drinking?" I asked lifting her cup.

"Oh. I can get it myself," Maria insisted.

"No use both of us waiting in line. Relax for a couple of minutes -- you've earned it." Maria gave me her order, and I picked up our pick-me-ups.

When I returned, she reached for her purse and asked, "That's $2.95, right? How about $3?"

"Put your purse down. I think I can afford a cup of coffee" I gently jibed.

Maria immediately argued, "I can't let you spend your day off tutoring me and have you buy the coffee on top. If anybody should be buying coffee it's me." Good logic, but I responded equally logically.

"I'd much rather be here working with you than what I had planned anyway." After I said it, I was concerned that it might have revealed too much of my desire just to spend time doing anything with Maria. I felt compelled to clarify. "Otherwise I'd be sitting in my office, in a lonely building trying to write a description for data that don't make sense." I laughed and continued. "I'd do anything to avoid dealing with data like that. Plus, the part of my job I like most is helping students learn, and this kind of one on one teaching is usually the most rewarding." I took a sip of my coffee thinking that I had handled the situation pretty well.

Maria kept her eyes on me while she took a sip and finally said, "Yeah. I can tell that you like teaching a lot. That's part of the reason that I agreed to meet you on a Saturday. I figured I probably wouldn't be inconveniencing you too much. That and ..." Maria cut off midsentence, and nervously took another sip to fill the gap. I gave her a very expectant look.

"Well, that and ..." Maria fumbled for words again. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I would have been skeptical about your motivation for meeting with a female student alone in a coffee shop -- even though you seem like a dedicated teacher -- if I hadn't seen what I saw the other day."

I'm sure I looked entirely baffled. I didn't even need to prompt her to explain.

"I came to your office Wednesday, but that blonde girl who also sits in the first row was already there."

"Mandy?" I interrupted, trying to keep the worry from my voice.

"I guess. She was dressed in a low cut top and short shorts." Mandy alright, I thought. "I got to your door right when she moved her chair next to yours." Maria stopped for a thoughtful sip. "I probably shouldn't have watched, but I did. I saw her rub up against you and practically flash her boobs at you, but you just kept your eyes on the paper and scooted away. Finally, when it looked like she put her hand in your lap, you stood up."

I felt the blood drain from my face and admitted, "That's pretty much what happened, wasn't it?"

Maria smiled reassuringly. "I figured that if you could ignore that sort of come on from a hot 20 year old in that getup that you must either be gay or the most faithful husband on record. At any rate, I knew an old grandma like me would be safe with you." Part of me wanted to scream: No, you're not safe. I want to jump your bones! But I replied in a civilized fashion.

"I can assure you I'm not gay, and my wife passed away a year and a half ago. I just have this internal mechanism which prevents me from having that sort of an attraction to my students." Immediately I felt the need to qualify which students. "I mean my daughter is older than that student. Being attracted to any woman that age just seems creepy." Of course, I had been attracted to Mandy at some level, but I did feel creepy about it later. Maria picked up on a different point of mine.

"I'm sorry to hear about your wife. That must have been tough." Maria's voice sounded truly empathetic.

"Yeah. It was tough. We had over 25 quality years together." I paused and looked into my coffee cup. Even with a woman who drove me crazy with desire, thinking about my wife too deeply still took some of the brightness out of me. I looked up and continued. "You know. You just move on with life and try to make the best out of the new life you're suddenly handed." After another brief pause, I tried to lighten the mood. " 'Grandma'? You can't be serious. That's a joke, right? A woman as young and as attractive as you can't possibly be a grandmother."

Maria chuckled. "You're very kind, or a flatterer. Maybe I shouldn't trust you after all." She flashed a brief but mischievous smile. "But it's true. My daughter-in-law just had a baby in July. I don't feel old enough to be a grandma, but I love being one." Wow. Maria was really starting to open up to me here.

"I know exactly how you feel. My son just got married last year. I'm sure it won't be long before I get the 'you're going to be a grandpa' call. It sure doesn't seem like all those years could have possibly flashed by though."

We shared a laugh and took hearty gulps of our coffees. We have a lot in common. I thought to myself. How can I bring us closer together with this?

Maria pulled her work in front of her and abruptly changed the mood. "That was a nice break, but I've got two and half more lectures to get through." With that statement, our friendly chat was over. I wanted to find out if she was still married, but couldn't think of a way to continue the small talk.

We continued to work as the instructor and hard-working student for another hour and a half. We covered all the concepts that would be on the exam, but Maria was still really struggling with solving the problems for the last couple of lectures.

A little before noon Maria looked up at the clock and said with a start, "Jeez, I need to get to work." She promptly started organizing her papers and books into her backpack. "Thank you so much Dr. Wilson." She caught herself and corrected, "Carl. I feel like I've learned so much. I'm not in mortal fear of Monday's test now."

"Don't fear the test. I think you will do just fine." I was still concerned about her mastery of some of the material, but I'm sure she was too. She needed encouragement. "Do you think you'll be able to spend some time Sunday working some of the problems I showed you in the other books?"

"Oh, yes. And thanks for loaning me these extra books. If you spent as much time with every student and gave them as many extra materials as you have with me, you wouldn't have any time or any books in your office." Maria zipped up her bag and placed it on one shoulder and her purse over the other. The straps of the bags pulled the material of her blouse tight against her chest. I fought the urge to gawk.

I laughed at Maria's observation and replied. "Luckily, the vast majority of students don't have the motivation to spend this much extra time with their professor on chemistry. Don't let it out that I like doing this sort of thing." I joked.

Maria chuckled and assured me, "Oh you're secret's safe with me. Have a nice weekend." With that she turned and hurried away.

"Have a nice weekend." I called behind her. I unabashedly stared at her voluptuous rear as she walked away. Her form-fitting skirt was modest in length, but revealed her shape marvelously. I recalled the scene from "Some Like It Hot" when Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon are about to get on the train and see Marilyn Monroe walk by for the first time. Staring at Marilyn's swaying rear end, Jack Lemmon's character makes a comment about Jell-O on springs. I had always thought that no woman could look as good as Marilyn Monroe from behind. I now knew I had always been wrong. I felt that I had performed admirably that morning. I had managed to put aside Maria's beauty and focus on helping her learn. But now, watching her walk for 20 seconds caused a swelling in my pants. I started packing my bag as well, but my cock just kept hardening as I thought of Maria's jiggling ass, her boobs framed by her bag straps, and her enchanting eyes. I had to discretely rearrange a raging erection prior to exiting the coffee shop. It had been years since I had responded so lustily to so little encouragement.

At home, I tried to sort out the whole situation. At least I knew Maria now, and it seemed that she respected me. That was good. But it also seemed that she found the fact that she would be "safe" with me of critical importance. To me that meant that she didn't have any interest in me except for learning chemistry. Also, there was the matter of her "not knowing" where she was working. I had hoped that she might share her place of employment on her way there, but it wasn't to be. So, my guess was that Maria would continue to come in for help on a regular basis. That was good. I'd get to see her and be around her. But I further speculated that even if we developed a good friendship, romance was not going to develop with it. So, future experiences with Maria would just add to my romantic and sexual frustration.

Then there was Mandy. I had a suspicion that I hadn't seen the last of Mandy's flirtations. If Maria had interpreted Mandy's behavior as clearly coming on to me, I'm sure that's what Mandy had been doing. In sum, in my near future I would be constantly excited but frustrated by the most beautiful woman I had ever seen -- Maria, and I would have a very sexy 20 year old making passes at me while I was in a sexually frustrated state. This sounded like a recipe for disaster to me. I hadn't had sex in almost two years -- my wife's illness had prevented sexual activity for several months before she passed. With Maria causing my hormones to run like I was 17 again, I didn't know if I could fend off more of Mandy's advances. Ultimately, I made a decision that I wouldn't be proud to share with anyone. But it seemed like the best decision given the extremely strained circumstances.

I made the decision to go to a strip club. Not the enlightened thing to do for a liberal man like myself, but I knew that it would solve some of my pent up sexual tension. I took my time; made lunch; did some necessary chores; and finally did some searching on the computer. After finding the information I was looking for online, I packed an overnight bag, got in the car, entered the address in my GPS, and took off.

Why the bag and the GPS? I was headed to a hotel in a small town about 2.5 hours from my home. Why? Because it was near the strip club that I had selected online. I had never been there before, but it fit the characteristics I was looking for. First of all, I wasn't about to go to strip club anywhere near the university where I worked. The thought of being recognized by some of the male students while I was getting a lap dance didn't seem like a wise the thing to let happen. Second, the place sounded like a bit of a dive in a somewhat remote area. I knew that this kind of place would be more likely to have several dancers over 30 and maybe even 40. Most guys would probably prefer to go to an upscale gentleman's club to see young hard bodies, but I had told Maria the truth when I said being attracted to a 20 year old was a little strange. Third, unlike at a big, upscale club, at this remote small joint I could probably look like a pretty generous spender on the money I was willing to part with. Lastly, while Chris Rock may have been right about big-city gentleman's clubs when he said, "There is no sex in the champagne room," I knew that these small town clubs sometimes had more relaxed guidelines. If the sheriff and mayor go to the club, the ladies might be allowed to get away with quite a bit.

That probably sounds like a lot of planning just to drink some beer and have some titties jiggled in your face, but, hey, I'm as scientist. I tend to make every decision based on data. I wasn't sure if my assumptions were true anymore or not. Before getting married, I had spent more than my fair share of time in strip clubs. However, this was before the proliferation of fancy gentlemen's clubs. As a married man, I'd been to a few clubs for male bonding events like bachelor parties, so I hoped my ideas still held.

After eating at a country diner along the way, I checked into the small hotel and slowly prepped for my evening of debauchery. I didn't want to get there before nine, because that would probably look too eager. Just before leaving, I changed into some slacks made of light weight material and put on one of the condoms I had brought. You might think that's weird, but if the club was the kind I hoped it was, the women might just do enough to get me off with my pants on. Well, if I relaxed and let go it might happen. If the opportunity arose, I didn't want to pass it up or embarrass myself with wet pants.

I arrived at the club, and on the surface it looked like just what I was looking for. A little worn, a little grimy, not too many patrons, decent mix of dancers. I picked a bar-height table near the back, which in this small club meant that only one other table was between me and the mostly empty chairs surrounding the relatively small dance floor. A moderately attractive woman in her early thirties was dancing in a halter top and short shorts to AC/DC. Just my kind of place.

A haggard waitress with a sandpaper voice from too many years of smoking came to take my order. She was dressed in a Harley t-shirt and jeans, no pretense that she was a dancer too. "What can I get ya', Hon'?"

"Oh, let's start with a Bud." Normally I drink imports or microbrews, but you don't ask for a Belgium ale in a place like this, even if they carry it.

I nonchalantly checked out the place while I waited. Most of the customers were spread out around the room at tables or at the bar, not at the edge of the stage. All the dancers I could see were sitting next to customers engaged in relaxed conversation. Good. I didn't want to feel pressured for table or lap dances all night. From what I could see, most of the dancers were not knock-out beauties but were attractive enough - and most were out of their 20's.

When the waitress reappeared with my beer, I wanted some information. "Thanks, Ma'am. That's just what I needed." I handed her a $2 tip on a $2.50 beer.

"Thank you, Hon'. When you want another it's Flo." She said with a smile while tucking the tip away.

"Tell me, Flo. How do lap dances or table dances work around here?" Get the waitress on your good side and you're golden.

"Well, we don't really do table dances much here. Most guys enjoy the stage show instead. But lap dances are done back in the private booth." Flo pointed to the corner just to the right of the stage. The "private" booth seemed to consist of an L-shaped wall that came out about 7 feet from the far right wall, making a right turn to the back wall for another 4 feet or so. The wall was solid to about 5 feet in height and was a lattice work to the ceiling after that. The L-turn side faced the stage had about a 3 foot gap completely open to view to whoever was on stage. I figured there was room for only one customer at a time, and it was not that private.

"Is there a standard house rate for laps?" At some clubs, dancers will try to gouge new meat.

"Yeah. It's 20 bucks. You have to buy a ticket from me or at the bar. Then you give the ticket to the girl when you get the dance." A ticket? That was a new one on me, but I hadn't been to many places in this lap dance era.

I took an elaborately enthusiastic swig of my beer and winked, "That really was what I needed. Thanks, Flo." Flo smiled and moved onto a table of guys who just came in.

I settled in to get the lay of the land a little more. The dancer on stage now had her top off. She had pretty nice pair of C cups with dark nipples and aureole. A guy went up to the stage and put a dollar bill between his lips. The dancer sashayed over to him and grinded a while. Then she bent over and buried the guy's face between her tits. After slapping the sides of his head with her boobs, she used her hands to push her tits together and slowly pulled back, removing the dollar from his mouth with her breasts. I watched another guy get equally good mileage for just a buck. Yeah. This was the right kind of place to ease some of my sexual tension. However, the feminist in me brought an overwhelming feeling of guilt. I contemplated quickly downing my beer and departing.

As the song came to a close, the dancer took off her shorts, using her high-heeled shoe to flick them into the corner of the stage. Underneath she had on thong that might as well have not even been there. I think they sometimes call this style dental floss. She started what had to be at least her third song of the set. I knew she must be close to the end of the set. I took my time taking another sip or two of beer, contemplating my horniness versus my respect for women. I finally recalled discussions that I had with dancers in the past where they made it clear that they didn't feel exploited. I finally put all doubt out of my head and extricated three dollar bills out of the wad of ones I had brought. Not Charlie Sheen money, but more than I had seen spent.

I went up to the stage and sat in one of the empty chairs. I wasn't quite sure of the protocol yet, so I simply held the money casually in front of me in plain sight. Although in no rush, the dancer immediately started dancing her way toward me. I made sure the bills were fanned so that if she cared she would notice there was more than one. On her way to me, she sexily moved onto all fours and crawled toward me with a sinuous cat-like motion. She gave me a lascivious smile as she got near, and turned and sat on her rear right in front of me. She spread her legs wide and began gyrating her hips in slow unison to the blasting power ballad. Instead of looking at her exposed pussy where I knew most guys would, I looked her straight in the eye and smiled. I started to rock to the music, matching the timing of her movements. She smiled in response. After a few moments, she thrust her hips, violently fucking the air. I felt she was impelling me to look between her legs and I happily complied. Her shaved pussy was almost completely exposed. It had been so long since I had witnessed such a sight, I was completely int