Holly s Breeding Ch 03
- 4 years ago
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Holly Woode free porn video
I am sure that Holly Woode did not mean to get me fired from Holier Than Thou College when she decided that she had to fuck my brains out. Holly never once complained to the Dean about having to bob her head up and down on my cock for hours on end, or about having to drain every ounce of cum from my body. Holly rather enjoyed sucking cock, swallowing cum, tonguing my asshole with her impossibly long tongue, or bending over my office desk and making me fuck her asshole raw. Unfortunately when you are young, and I was a young faculty member when I had Holly, you get impetuous, incautious and make careless mistakes. Rule Number One when you are a single young male heterosexual faculty member in these times of political correctness: remember, your butt ugly thirty-something feminist just realized no straight man ever will marry or touch me female Ph.D. colleagues will have your ass in a sling when they learn that you are diddling the hot undergraduate chickies.
Holly Woode made me her project during the second semester of her first year at Holier Than Thou College. Holly was the star student in my first year honor’s aesthetics seminar. I can be obtuse when it comes to women, and it took over a month of Holly’s best efforts that spring semester for me to realize that Holly was shamelessly flirting with me every chance she got. Young white single male faculty members cultivate a studied indifference to flirting as a defense against the radical feminist inquisition. As I made no move on Holly-I feared castration at the hands of the inquisition if I broke the ‘don’t touch the students’ rule-Holly eventually invited herself to my house one Friday night at the tail end of her freshman year. She took matters into her own hands and gave me no choice but to notice her charms and to have wild sex.
***
I think it was T.S. Elliot who wrote, ‘April is the cruelest month’ . . . well it’s actually March that is the cruelest for single male faculty members, because that’s when it warms up enough for the co-eds to shed their bras and sweatshirts in order to compete to see who can poke the most aggressive nipple through a thin cotton t-shirt. For the male faculty, spring is the ‘don’t look, don’t touch, keep your mouth shut’ season as the odd leer or overlong glance is sufficient to bring the wrath of the feminist inquisition down on one’s head. My first spring at Holier Than Thou, the inquisition flayed poor old Professor Giles Perry for a flippant remark he had made about wanting to be sure he used the college’s new ‘eyeglass’ benefit to update his prescription before the spring quad sun-bathing season began. The quad, come March, always filled on sunny days with young lovelies pushing the limits of decency in seemingly ever smaller thongs.
I finally took notice of Holly’s flirtations with me when during a session of the aesthetics seminar, the then still seventeen-year-old freshman interrupted an argument she was having about heroin chic with Brown Brickfyd, an annoying pimply freshman boy, to ask my opinion about the essence of female beauty.
‘Isn’t Lara Flynn Boyle too thin to be truly beautiful?’ her question.
‘No, she’s quite pretty,’ I answered without thinking too much before opening my mouth. I mean she is pretty. ‘Maybe not my first choice in actress, but nothing to complain about either. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed or anything. Not like I’d stand a chance of getting her there she being a star fucker and all.’
‘Geez that means I’ll have to squeeze these into an a-cup,’ Holly’s reply as she squeezed a breast through her thick baggy grey sweatshirt before turning back to Brickfyd to make some deeper point about heroin chic.
I think that moment is when I first got Holly’s message.
A week later Holly dropped by my office during my regular office hours. She wore a dark blue Elise Elise dress. My jaw dropped. I didn’t recall her wearing anything but very baggy oversized grey sweats all semester. In the baggy sweats, you would be hard pressed to know Holly was a girl. High fashion agreed with Holly. The dress highlighted her generous breasts, tiny waist, slender hips, tight butt and lots of bare leg. No hose. No panty lines. Legs were shaved and looked quite strong. Shaved legs were not in fashion at Holier Than Thou that season. Holly’s hair was down, usually she had it up under a ball cap. She had painted her nails. She sat in the chair next to my desk and crossed her legs giving me a great shot of taught slender thigh.
‘I’m finished with the class’s academic requirements other than attendance when I turn in my seminar paper? No other work due this term?’
‘Yup,’ I replied. ‘That’s it. You could’a emailed that question.’ I flashed one of those why are you taking my time looks that professors use to chase students from their offices.
‘True, but then you wouldn’t get to see the dress.’ She didn’t miss a beat.
She stood and did a dainty runway walk around my office.
‘I think I clean up nice. Essence of female beauty?’ Another Holly question couched in rising tone of her voice. And how could I answer without bringing doom on myself from the ever-prying eyes of the inquisition?
‘And why is that essence so important?’ A studied scholarly reply-answer a question with a question-commit to nothing, equivocate about what you meant when pressed later.
‘To catch your eye of course.’ She winked, checked her watch, ‘Ciao. Gotta run babe. Have a class with the lovely Doctor Rhubarb. Oh, and here’s the seminar paper. So I’m technically not your student anymore.’ She dropped the paper on my desk and she was off.
Holly became an office hours regular over the next few weeks. She would drop by ‘just to chat’ as she put it. She drank some coffee. I always offered a cup to office guests when I wanted them to stick around. Did I just say I wanted her to stick around? I have to remember to be more careful.
Holly would bring the newspaper and talk about articles, or she’d make me help her with the Times’ crossword. Occasionally she would drop by with her lunch and eat a sandwich or some yogurt while making me translate whatever it was I was working on from ‘impenetrable academese’ to undergraduate English.
Near the very end of the semester, on a Friday, I was working in my office around six to finish up a book chapter when an instant message flashed across my computer screen.
‘What are you doing?’ It was from Holly. She was in a computer lab in the chemistry building safe from the prying eyes of the inquisition. She continued typing, ‘Saw you on the network. It’s Friday and late, why are you still in? Hot smart single boys like you should have dates? Want a cute visitor? I have a little black cocktail dress that’s perfect for a Friday night.’
I hope that some giant computer brain somewhere working for the inquisition did not record all faculty instant message chatter. I always assume the worst about big sister and her prying eyes.
‘Always like a cute visitor in a black cocktail dress!’ Had I said that? Geez, I was getting sloppy careless. ‘But just now I’m working pretty hard on a book chapter. Won’t be heading home ’til later.’
‘Oh I’ll leave you alone then . . . I know your book is important…Just wanted to dazzle your eye with some more high fashion. I’ll have to do that later I guess,’ she typed a smiley face and signed off.
I finished writing around nine, and emailed a text of the final book chapter to my editor at a prestigious academic press. I lived about 4 blocks from campus in a great old house. High ceilings, hardwood floors, huge screened in porch at the back of the house. I walked home. It was a warm spring night. I enjoyed the quiet walk home. I found Holly letting herself into my screened porch when I got home. I wasn’t sure if I should smile.
‘Thought you might like company when you got home lonely boy. Saw you sign off the network. Figured you might be heading home and decided to drop in,’ she said.
‘You did?’ I suppressed my smile.
‘I did, and I brought some wine. Chateaux Margeaux….your favorite, right?’ She held up two bottles. I realized that I maybe tell my seminars a bit too much about myself and my good taste.
‘And how did you buy that?’
‘With money.’ Her voice had a sarcastic tone. ‘Ok, I have good friends with great ID,’ she said with a huge just don’t dare ask me any more questions smile, ‘and there is something to be said for a good whine.’ She purred then laughed.
I opened the door and we walked into my kitchen. I took two wine glasses from a cabinet and handed them to Holly. I found a corkscrew, opened one of the bottles, and pointed back towards the porch
.
Holly had other ideas of course.
‘Bathroom?’
‘Just down the hall on the left?’
She was wearing her little black cocktail dress. Perhaps tiny would be a better word to describe it-shamelessly tiny. She returned from the bathroom and I got the idea that she had just lost all of the scant underwear that had given her tiny shred of a dress its bare bit of decency. In my early twenties, I was good at winning bar bets guessing bra sizes . . . and Holly is a 34 C almost D with ‘quite aggressive’ nipples.
We sat on the porch. Savored some wine.
‘You know you could get my ass fired for doing this?’ I opened the negotiation laying out the stakes in her little game.
‘Only if I told…and why would I do that?’ A wicked smile crossed her face. She sipped wine. Admired the glass. Baccarat.
‘Cause I do something to piss you off? Revenge? Jealously? Act too male. Ignore you too much. Complain about your cooking. Leave my shorts on the floor. Watch football on TV. Look too long at the supermodels in your fashion magazines.’
‘Well what if I piss you off? Gonna fail me? What if I talk with other boys? What if I listen to Rap or Hip Hop music on your stereo? What if I max your credit card at Bloomies? What if I give bad head?’
‘You still have my ass ’cause you’re the child drinking wine on my porch. You got to be twenty-one to drink in this state last I checked.’
‘But not to fuck.’ She paused, sipped her wine. Recrossed her legs in a way that practically hiked her dress up to her navel. ‘So how exactly do I get your attention? Do I say fuck me now? Do I strip naked and prove that I’m all girl?’
The way the cocktail dress clung to her body she wouldn’t have to do much stripping to prove the girl part.
‘You’re seventeen-not old enough to show me what’s under that dress unless you think I would enjoy spending my nights for the next twenty years in bed with a cellmate named Bubba.’ I was holding my ground, barely.
‘You’re wrong.’ She giggled ‘I’ve been waiting to say that all term. Damn. And you gave me my moment. Eighteen dear,’ she smiled. ‘I had a birthday about two months ago-which you seemed to ignore by the way-I’m legal and horny.’ She bent over to scratch her ankle and with the view I got down the front of the dress she may as well have been stripped naked at that point.
I wouldn’t call our conversation exactly the stuff of classical romance or seduction, clearly more frenzied negotiation.
‘You’re a student.’ I was fighting against the ache in my testicles. ‘Touching a student means a death sentence for a single white male heterosexual here at Holier Than Thou. How do I know you’re not with the inquisition and that this isn’t some kind of trap?’ I was being extra careful because you never know what you’re getting with undergraduate whack jobs these days ‘You’re taking Rhubarb’s Womyn’s Herstory class afterall?’
‘I shave my legs.’
‘Disguise.’
She lifted her arms.
‘And my pits.’
‘Deep cover disguise. You sacrificed for the cause.’
‘We could check the bushes for snoops if that would make you feel better-or you could just check my bush. Frisk me to see if I am wearing a wire. Check out what’s under my dress.’
I held my hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. ‘Don’t hurt me.’ I said in a mocking tone.
Holly stood, walked over, grabbed my wrists, pinned them to the chair and gave me a kiss. It was a good kiss, a very good kiss. Holly has very full rich lips and the longest tongue. This is a child who will never need to get a collagen shot to feel beautiful. She took a step back.
‘Now you can say that I held you down and forced myself on you when we haul you before the inquisition.’
Holly giggled.
I stood and embraced her. Our tongues met and danced. My hands moved down her back and felt her tight butt. Damn firm, not a candidate for early cellulite. I squeezed. My lips moved to her neck, her earlobe, her ear, back to her neck. She cooed. I ran my hands up her back, then I felt her breasts.
‘I think I feel something dangerous under there. Let’s go inside and make sure.’ I invited. I grabbed her hand and she followed.
‘I was hoping for the strip search.’ She giggled.
We barely made it to the bedroom. We pawed each other the whole way down the hall.
I undid the little buttons at the top back of Holly’s dress and it fell away. Ummm. A sight. How to describe a perfect breast? I love a breast long on the top, fat and curved on the bottom, huge aureole, and big nipples. Holly may be the model. Large dark aureole, better than a silver dollar, with thick bulbous nipples. My mouth was on a breast instantly.
She is a girl with sensitive breasts. She later told me that she came while I milked her nipples. First little kisses around the bottom of her breast. Then I flicked my tongue around the aureole tasting it all. Then the nipple. First I sucked delicately. Then I bit lightly. Then my tongue teased. Sucked harder. Sucked lighter. Pulled ever so delicately. I paused.
‘No hidden mikes so far.’ I said.
‘But you haven’t checked the bush yet,’ her reply. ‘It’s a forest down there. Who knows what I may have hidden.’
I worked down her flat tight stomach to what I found to be a very full bush for a girl just turned eighteen. She had thick lips and a gorgeous clit. I licked down her left thigh and back up her right. I then teased her lips. My tongue lapped what seemed gallons of delicious juice coming from her gorgeous slit. Then I went to work on the clit. I licked fast, then slow, then fast, she came. I knew I could tax more from her. I licked gently, very slowly, then faster then very slowly my tongue teasing the edges of her bulging clit. Her hips bucked, her legs clenched, I held my ground and licked harder driving my tongue on her tight bud. She shuddered. She shuddered again. She said, ‘stop stop….’ in a breathy voice. I paused and looked up. I grinned. And I dove back in…. I licked her little butthole and poked in a finger. Then my tongue moved back to her clit and licked hard and fast. She came two more times. I slid up, kissed her, and rolled off to the side.
‘You passed the cavity search. I guess you’re safe.’
She caught her breath and said, ‘Now it’s your turn babe. Paybacks. And don’t think I won’t get even for making me cum shamelessly so many damn times.’
***
We fucked like bunnies for the entire weekend-then kept running our own sexual marathon the last week of Holly’s first year at Holier Than Thou. I spent those first days in awe of Holly’s beauty. Her usual wear-to-class uniform of grey or blue sweats hid a truly gorgeous body. Years of ballet training had sculpted Holly’s figure to near perfection. Were there a flaw in her gamine like body, it would be that while ballet is an a-cup activity, Holly easily was a c or more likely d-cup girl. Holly clearly was aware of her beauty, and she wore sweats to class to keep her charms masked from everyone except from those with whom she wished to share them. Holly was not shy about herself, quite open actually, but she was wary about people whom she did not know or trust. Holly and I spoke about the inquisition that first week, and Holly a
greed to be careful for my sake. She did not want me hurt.
***
My first semester teaching at Holier Than Thou, Professor of Cultural Studies, John Calvin Taylor, was caught ‘in flagrante delicto’ by Professor Rhubarb, humping a chunky sophomore girl in his office. The campus paper only referred to the hump victim as ‘Julie X.’ Neutral observers thought that Professor Taylor was exonerated when Julie X testified before ‘the committee’ that she had seduced Professor Taylor by exposing her incredibly delicious oversized breasts. Notwithstanding this testimony, the inquisition dismissed Professor Taylor. ‘The committee’ noted in its findings that Julie X lived off campus with a bull dyke named ‘Swatter.’ The committee found that a committed lesbian living with a woman as desirable as Swatter obviously would not consent to have sex with a man, therefore Julie X must have been coerced to lie about consent with the professor. While Julie X did have very attractive huge breasts, the committee noted in the record, a lesbian obviously would not share such desirable charms with a man, and, in the alternative, the self-evident beauty of such rare monstrously large breasts, even if shamelessly shared with a professor in a moment of intimacy, did not give a professor license to fuck Julie X. Just to make this point clear, the high priestess of radical lesbian feminist studies at Holier Than Thou College decreed, as a matter of campus policy, henceforth no undergraduate woman possibly could consent meaningfully to heterosexual contact with a member of the faculty-the power imbalance made free will or volition impossible (as an aside, if the undergrad slept with a woman faculty member, that was different, as that was something Sapphic and constituted a strike against patriarchal tyranny). In Holly’s case, I have to say, the high priestess might be right about the power imbalance, but for the wrong reason. There really was a severe power imbalance. No man with functioning testicles could possibly say no to a determined persistent Holly Woode. I think my balls would have exploded if I had not fucked her after that first kiss.
***
‘Hey babe,’ Holly knocked on my office door around five-thirty on the Thursday of finals week and let herself in. ‘I have my chem. final exam tomorrow morning at nine so can we make this fast tonight? How ’bout you just quickly take my asshole?’
What could I say to that invitation but yes?
‘Sure love,’ I replied. ‘Be sure to lock the door just to be safe.’
Holly was all about business. She locked the door and then casually bent over the desk as she pulled off baggy grey sweat pants. She wasn’t wearing any panties. ‘Just put it in babe,’ she said. ‘Oh no wait,’ she giggled, smiled, pulled off her baseball cap and let her hair flow over her shoulders. ‘You are not one of those undergrad boys. Maybe you’d enjoy some foreplay first.’
She stood back up and gave me a huge kiss. She wanted to make sure I was very hard and ready to take her ass. She groped my crotch and stuck her painfully long tongue deep down my throat. She unzipped my khakis, undid my belt and had pants and boxers down to my feet in seconds. She massaged my ball sac and reached under to tease my asshole. She squeezed and pumped my cock as it grew hard. Most times, that would have been the moment when she would squat and poke her tongue into my ass. Tonight she was in a hurry because she had to study chemistry. She took a tube of flavored lubricant from her backpack and she swathed my hard dick in lots of goo. She stroked me a few times and then she bent back over the desk and presented her ass.
I stepped behind her, growing ever more familiar with what was becoming our ritual buttfucking drill. We had been practicing for nearly a week to get it right. She pushed as if she was pooping and opened her hole. I shoved myself in and as I entered I felt her strong sphincter muscles grab my penis. She had such incredible muscle control. I pushed in and out and she squeezed, let up, squeezed again. Her ass was tight and smooth. As I pushed in she pushed back to meet my thrusts. In just a week she had learned how to move to touch me the right way. I am most sensitive on the underside of my penis, and she slid and squirmed so that each stroke was met with a long slide down the bottom of my shaft. I pumped a few dozen more times and couldn’t take any more. I tried to make it last but her ass squeezed and sucked me over the line. I squirted sperm deep in her butt.
Pansy
- 27.11.2021
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