Robert Vickers: Sex slave coed

"Is anything wrong, Dr. Nathaniel?" she asked sweetly, bending forward slightly. The top button of her blouse was undone. This allowed an ample swelling of her creamy white tits to bulge up and out of her blouse. Her nipples were already hardening as she thought about this man's strong cock fucking her.

"Your ass rolls like a pair of ball bearings," he said in a monotone. There didn't seem to be any enthusiasm at all for what she was offering. The blonde teenager contrived to get another button on her blouse undone without seeming too obvious about it. "And your tits are going to flop all over my desk if you don't keep that flimsy blouse buttoned better," he finished.

Manna was stunned. Her physical charms had always had men stepping on their pricks in an attempt to get into her pants. They'd do almost anything to fuck her. But this philosophy professor seemed impervious to her charms.

He presented a challenge she couldn't walk away from now.

"Dr. Nathaniel," she started. She hesitated, considering his cold stare. She could see his crotch and there wasn't the least bit of activity there. Nothing she had done so far had made his prick so much as twitch. "Roger," she continued, her tongue making a slow circuit of her lips in an unmistakable gesture.

"You were right the first time. It's Dr. Nathaniel to you."

Manna felt outrage. This seduction wasn't going anything like, the thought it should.

"Dr. Nathaniel, are you a fag?" she blurted.

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not. I fail to see, however, what my sexual preferences have to do with our teacher-student relationship."

The man was as cold as a block of ice. His steel-gray eyes bored into her until she felt small, humiliated, beaten.

"I… I think you're very attractive." There was no comment or movement from the man. Manna rushed on. "I want to get to know you better, a lot better. Personal, you know?"

"You want to fuck me," he said. "You're not doing that badly in class. I've had better students, but you're getting a good, solid B. Why fuck an old man like me?" His expression might have been etched on solid granite. Not even a facial muscle twitched.

"Screw grades!" she cried. The young college student swallowed hard and moved round the desk to perch her ass on the edge. Her long, slender legs dangled free. She kicked off one shoe and began lightly drawing her instep over the man's upper thigh. When this didn't make him move an inch, she boldly pushed on and rubbed her toes against his crotch.

Manna almost cried when she felt nothing, not a stirring not a single response to her overtures.

"You're the first student I've had who ever said grades didn't matter. This is a grade factory. Do well, get a good job. Simple. But you might be looking for another type of degree. Not a BA or a BS but rather a MRS. You looking for a husband?"

"I didn't come to college for that!" the teenager protested. She saw she wasn't getting through to him at all. She had to be bolder.

"If you want to suck my cock, do it. But do stop playing footsie with my prick. Your sweaty foot is staining my freshly pressed pants."

Manna glanced at the philosophy professor, startled. But she wasn't going to argue with him. She'd have preferred him fucking her cunt, but if he wanted a blowjob, she was just the coed to give it to him!

She dived down and dropped to her knees, her hands fumbling at his crotch. She pulled down his zipper with a quick metallic hiss. His prick limply flopped out. All her signals had gone unnoticed. She hoped he wasn't lying to her about not being a queer. She couldn't even begin to understand a man who didn't get off on women – and her.

She lovingly caressed his cock. She felt a little twitch starting in the flaccid length. This was more like it. With, the woman's lips just inches away from his cock, he should have been jumping and moaning for joy. But he wasn't. A challenge to be met, Manna decided.

She was eager to take that tasty looking prick into her mouth. Her tongue moved lightly across the tip of his prick, then stroked down one fleshy side. She felt his cock stiffening slowly. But it wasn't responding the way she thought it should.

Tongue flashing down the side of his meaty cock, she sought and found the hairy sac containing his balls. Using, only feather-light touches, she put damp spots all over his balls. As the blonde teenager's hot breath evaporated these spots, his prick grew increasingly rigid.

That was the effect she was after. And she was succeeding. The man might not be saying anything, but there was no denying the arousal in his prick. She took this as a compliment. She wasn't doing anything to him that hadn't been done before, but she was probably doing it better. Quality counted as much as quantity in giving good head. It took quality to get him hard. This philosophy professor was used to the best, the young college student guessed.

Her tongue dragged sensuously across the underside of his balls. When she felt them boiling inside in the thick stew of his jism, she knew her mouth was working on him in a big way. He might not say a word, but she was reaching him. She moved closer so that the thick shaft of his cock pressed into her cheek. The blonde teenager wanted to suck his hairy bag of balls into her mouth.

Sucking softly, she pulled the edge of the man's balls into her mouth. Then she used her tongue and lips to get it in the rest of the way. Trapped in her hot, sucking mouth, the philosophy professor was her captive. She could control him fully simply by the pressure of her tongue or how hard she sucked on his imprisoned balls.

"Is that the best you can do?" came his cold, unwavering voice. He might have been discussing the philosophy of the Renaissance for all the emotion in his voice.

"Just wait and see!" Manna cried around the balls in her mouth.

She vowed to really show him what she could do. She'd gotten him hard. She'd get him off!

Her tongue carried the message through his body. She caressed his trapped balls with her rough, wet tongue in such a way that she was stimulating him more than he had been in a long, long time.

She loved the challenge and felt her pussy getting hot.

When his balls collapsed into a tight little sphere, she decided to move on. Her tongue pressed firmly into the side of his sac once more and she felt the agitated tumbling of his balls. They were adequately mixing around in his own juices. Soon, he'd be spewing all that trapped jism out and into her mouth!

"Either get on with it or let me go to my faculty meeting," he said. There was no hint in the man's voice that he even noticed her efforts. And yet Manna knew he was aroused. Wasn't his cock nice and hard?

"I will, Dr. Nathaniel, I will!" she assured him. She occupied her mouth with something more interesting than mere words. She clamped her lips firmly against the side of his prick. Licking up and down the quivering shaft of his cock, she gave him a tongue lashing such as he'd never received before.

His legs drifted apart and bracketed the coed's body. Her head was firmly between his thighs as he sat back in the chair. His hands stroked over the blonde nest of her hair, urging her on even if his words weren't encouraging. She knew what he wanted, and she was just the cocksucker to give it to him.

She licked his cock as if it were a fleshy popsicle. The smell and taste of an aroused man came to her tongue, her nostrils. The young college student was taking in gusty, deep breaths to fully savor all this. There was nothing in the world that turned her on more than the musk of an excited man.

And there was no way of mistaking now just how excited the philosophy professor was. His prick was doing a slow, pulsing dance in front of his crotch. His balls had tightened into a globe that was about to burst and spew forth his creamy white jizz. And the man's entire posture told the blonde teenager of her success at sucking his prick.