A D in Calculus
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The Calculus Tutorial free porn video
This is a brief piece of fiction. It was started off as a writing assignmentby "n" who was unable to finish it. This piece also provided "j" with the firstopportunity to practice the art of editing. But if there are defects in thestory they are solely the fault of E.E. Norcod who is always to blame for thingsthat go wrong. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead exists only in themind of the reader.
Part One
The Walk
I am fuming as I walk toward the math building across thecool dark campus. I should be at the best party of the fall but instead I haveto meet for some sort of a bizarre tutorial session with my creepy Calculusinstructor. Ok, I have to admit that I didn't study as intensely for that firstexam as I should have. But I don't think it was fair to take all of those pointsoff for not showing the intermediate steps in the derivations. Shit! That fallwind blew right up my short skirt and without any undergarments – nopanties or pantyhose – it is shockingly cold. All I have on beneath thisblack sheath dress is a black tricot half-slip and that is not that much protection.Ordinarily I would not wear a slip with a dress this short but ordinarily Iwould have on panties and pantyhose. And this slip is not working all thatwell at keeping my skirt from riding up. When this damn dress rides up it showsa whole bunch of damn slip hem and I bet that the tops of my stockings areshowing. And probably not just stocking is showing but a flash of naked thighas well. Damn, damn, damn it's cold.
My heels click and clack furiously on the cobblestone pathwayas I finally approach my destination. The big old Live Oak trees cast reallyweird shadows in the sodium vapor lights and I glance over my shoulder to seeif anybody is following me. How did I get myself in this situation? I pulldown the hem of my dress once again, self conscious of my nakedness underneath.Still, if a little spanking is all it will take to get out of this academicmess, I can handle it. No big deal. Ok, I'm finally here and I don't thinkany of my friends have seen me. The door at the back of the building is oldand it looks like it is rarely used. On my first attempt to unlock it I dropthe key that I found in my mailbox yesterday. God Damn Son of a Bitch, Fuck!am I nervous. Ok, I hate to admit it, but I am scared, real scared. Withoutthinking I bend over to grope for the key. Only then do I realize that if anybodyis looking I am giving them the 'beaver shot' of the semester with this shortskirt and my unclad bottom. I squat down and eventually, OK, my fingers findthe key. I fumble as I work the key into the lock. Finally, with a good dealof pressure, the key turns. The door opens with a creak into a dimly lit stairwellwhich descends into darkness. My heels click and clack on the stone steps asI wobble down on feet unfamiliar with descending stair in really high heels.
It is pitch black at the base of the stairs. I runmy hands along the wall in search of a light switch in the usual place. Noluck. Suddenly, a very low wattage fluorescent light palely flickers to life.I let out a short yipping scream and clutch the hem of my all too short skirtas He appears right in front of me. He looks pretty creepy by day, six footfour inches with long arms. He is all massive shoulders, pot belly and saggingass in the oblique dim light. He never seems to be clean shaven and His reekingbreath can sicken you from half way across the classroom. And in the dimlylit basement He looks a lot worse. He looks extremely pleased with himself. "I'mglad you took me up on my little offer my dear." he gloats with a smugsmile on his pitted face. "Follow me." he commands and He beginsto walk with that particular squat waddle of His down the hallway. I walkdown the hall, clicking and clacking, holding the hem of my dress, thinkingof the nakedness of my down-under and dreading the ordeal to come.
I've disliked Him since the first day of class whenI laid my unfortunate eyes on him. No matter where I would sit in the lecturehall, it seemed like His eyes were finding me. His mouth would be lecturingabout Calculus but His eyes would be telling me something else. Those pigeyes would be stripping away clothing. Normally, being oriental and naturallysmall breasted, I don't wear a bra. But when ever He gets the chance He callsme up to the front of the room to work an integral at the blackboard. I canfeel those pig eyes stripping off my tee shirt and tweaking my nipples. Istarted wearing one of the only two bras I own to calculus class. I suspectthat He must mentally do that to all of us but somehow I seem to feel itmore acutely than the others. Each day, the first class slot after lunch,my stomach roils as I sit in that overheated classroom.
As I clicked and clacked my way down that seeming endlessterrazzo basement corridor I think of that first exam. That exam was a mentalagony the likes of which I have never experienced before in my life. As I sitthere in the blond wooden chair-desk, I can feel His eyes undressing me. Heis stripping off my jeans and lifting off my tee shirt. He is unhooking mybra and slowly pulling down my panties. I can even feel Him slipping off myshoes and pulling off my socks. I look at the exam paper and the numbers startedswirling around. I can even feel His eyes probing into my most private places,stroking my clitoris and my inner labia. He is poking into my vagina and anus.Five minutes into that exam I am sweating, salivating and I feel sick to mystomach. And strangely, my genitals are becoming hot, tumescent and wet. Ican feel the wetness seeping into my panties. I swallow hard but I can notkeep the equations from moving across the page as all my mind can focus onis my clitoris. My genitals seem to be on fire. That one hour exam seems tolast the entire afternoon and I swear it is getting dark when He says "TIME".I throw my one-third-complete paper at him, run into the lavatory, fling openthe door to the stall and, covered in sweat, heave my completely undigestedlunch into the commode. And when I can heave no more, I finally get aroundto latching the door of the stall. I pull my jeans and sodden panties all theway down to my ankles and sit on the commode, my sweat soaked tee shit clingingto my chest and back. And I masturbate with an urgency I had never felt before.I don't just stroke my clitoris with my right hand but in a frenzy I rub mylabia as well. Such is my abandon that finally I stick three fingers of myright hand into my vagina and crank away like hell. I am sure that anyone walkinginto the ladies washroom must hear my moans and thrashing but I am uncaringof my environment. Such is my need. And the worse part of it is, that now,as I hobble on my high heels down this dark basement hallway, my genitals arestarting to swell and burn again with the same intensity.
As I wobble down the hall on my shaky ankles, I am relivingthe next day after that exam. I approach the bulletin board across from thelecture hall with trepidation. Oh god, there it is, my student number and mygrade. 273-48-3321 and 51, highlighted in red. Three other student numbersare also highlighted, three other girls I later find out. And down at the bottomof the page is written in red ink, "The four students whose grades are postedin red are to see me immediately after the lecture today". I have the lowestgrade in the class but there are four of us down there in the fifties. Andthat god-damned exam wet pussy bothers me still. I hate Him with a passionthat goes beyond words. The four of us stand silently outside His office attwo o'clock that afternoon. A silent, sweating line. Since I had the lowestgrade, I have to wait until after the other three girls. I don't remember themwell except that two are blond and real cute and the third is, like me, anOriental. But my stomach is churning too much to really do much thinking. Thesethoughts and memories fill my mind as I click and clack after Him this evening.Him and His lumbering gait. Down that damn dim basement hall toward that inevitableroom where my 'tutorial' awaits. What I expect will be a tutorial in pain andhumiliation. He said I need tutoring in math. That afternoon He asked "WillI accept it?" Of course I will, what choice do I have? That afternoon as Isit there in His cluttered hole of an office, my genitals start to inflameagain. He says the tutorials were very strict. I say "no problem". What choicedo I have. He says He will e-mail me with the details, times, conditions, requirements,preparations. When I left the office I once again run to the ladies room. Atleast this time I don't vomit. But the crotch of my panties are soaking onceagain. And once again, in a frenzy, I masturbate. And now this evening I amwalking behind him down this hall and my pussy is starting to drip. Once againI pull down that god-damned fucking hem of this all-too-short skirt of thistight black son-of-a-bitchin black sleeveless cocktail dress. And the worstthing of all is that I can feel the juice from my privates on the naked innersurface of my thighs.
Maddy
- 14.08.2021
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