Melinda Matson - A seductive student

"Fuck!" Dr Blensch cried, pummeling his bare, lean ass with her heels.

Paul pulled back to obey. Delicious folds of her pussy clung to his cock on the back thrust, teasing over his shaft, his nerve bundle, his bulb. There was a sudden flicker, a spark behind his balls, a spark that blossomed, spreading like wildfire up the length of his penis.

"Christ!" he swore, his eyes widening, his hands clutching at her silky hips as he began to climax.

"Oh! OH!!!" the professor wailed, feeling his cock flex ominously within her, feeling her own rhythmic pulsing pushing at the walls of her vagina. Locking her legs about his back, she started to hump him, to force her cunt up and down his penis as fast as she could, sawing the tiny bud of her clitoris over the hard man meat. She wasn't moving her pussy more than a couple of inches over his cock; she didn't want to risk him slipping out, not now.

Paul threw himself against her, jamming his penis as far in as it would go. Joy exploded at the tip of his cock and he could feel the spasms racking his shaft, the gobs of semen being pushed up from his balls.

"Oh! Oh!!!" she howled as the first white hot bullets sprayed her womb. Her pussy reacted automatically to the boiling deluge. It began to flutter, to squeeze the orgasming rod, to tease more cum, more joy from it.

The young man hunched like a maniac, driving his cock through the convulsing orifice, chills rushing up his spine each time he sent another spurt of sperm into her, each time she responded with a squeal of delight.

Too soon, the pleasure ended for Paul, tapering off into an ache in his testicles that he could not believe. The professor reached in under her spermy buttocks and caught hold of his balls, which were no longer uptight, but swaying pendulously in their sticky sack. When she bounced them in her palm, he let out a mournful whimper. She stopped fondling him, holding his scrotum in her hand.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, greedily flipping her hips, causing her cunt gobble his still erect cock.

"Uhh! OH!! Christ, I think I hurt myself," he said faintly. "Please don't do that. It makes it worse."

Dr. Blensch gave him a skeptical look, as if she suspected his sudden attack of blue balls was a put up job. She let go of his balls and made no protest when he disengaged, unsheathing his cock from her cunt, then staggering back to an office chair. His penis was a ruddy red spear, gleaming from tip to root with semen and lubricant.

"All right," she said, impatiently, slipping from the desk top to her feet. "You can rest for awhile. I was hoping that we could do it again right away. You know that the fourth one is always the best one for me."

He nodded weakly.

"But, if you can't do it now, I guess we'll just have to wait, won't we?" she said, her anger barely suppressed. "I have some paperwork to clear up. It shouldn't take more than a half hour. You'll be ready by then, won't you?"

Paul said nothing. His face was white as a sheet.

Joselyn stared at Dr. Velasquez in astonishment. "You heard what I said," he told her, bristling with impatience. "You are going to be my spy in Dr. Bertrand's office. You are going to be the one who helps me put an end to his career at Mira Pavo."

She swallowed hard. "I… uhhh… I don't understand," she said weakly, pulling on her sticky cut off jeans.

He glowered at her. "I assumed that you had the mental qualifications for an assistantship job," he said, nastily. "Perhaps I have assumed wrong."

Joselyn was too shaken to respond.

"I suppose you are naive enough to think that the rivalry between that bastard and me is all friendly, all for the sake, for the greater glory of Science?!" he snarled, starting to pace the floor in front of his desk. He walked very briskly, with a curious, bouncing gait. "In a pig's ass!" he said, answering his own question. "If you knew half the underhanded tricks that character has pulled on me, tricks to try and get me in bad with the administration!" He paused and glared at her. Little flecks of foam surfaced at the corners of his mouth. "Why do you suppose there was such a big to do over what I did to that little cunt last year? The one who was trading passing grades for pussy?"

Joselyn made a helpless gesture.

"Bertrand!" Velasquez growled, the tendons in his jaws flexing, his hands clenching up into tight fists. "It was all his doing. He put the little slut up to it. I got the straight story out of her afterwards, believe me. She was originally one of his undergraduate playgirls. She'd been putting out to him since she was a freshman. It was his idea that she take my class, his idea that she come blubbering to me after she purposefully failed the first midterm, his idea that she let me do whatever I wanted to her, and it was his idea that afterwards, she go running straight to the damn college sponsor with her compliant about being misused."

"But, why would he do a thing like that?" she asked. "Why would he want to hurt your reputation?"

"Petty jealousy," Velasquez retorted. "Bertrand was the top dog here before I came, the top funded Ph.D. in the Theoretical Chem Department. Not only was he getting all the government research money, but he was getting all the stray nookie, too, using his position, of course, his authority to make the campus cuties put out to him. When I arrived and he saw what kind of work I was doing in Solution Points, when I started cutting in on his funding and his action with the girls, he started getting mean, playing dirty tricks, trying to eliminate the competition."

Joselyn nodded. In away, it all made sense to her. She'd realized early on in her scientific career that many of the respected leaders in pure research were more than a little emotionally retarded.

Because of their awesome intellectual abilities, they'd never been allowed normal childhoods, they'd been forced to skip adolescence entirely and go directly to the ivy covered think tanks. It was to be expected, perhaps, that they still act like children in some ways. The "macho" tradition they espoused was a perfect example of their immaturity. All the sports activity, the jogging, the weight lifting, the endless handball tournaments, was a childish attempt to show the whole world that despite their brains, their great accomplishments in pure Science, they were still "regular guys", still capable of having a "good time", that they were, indeed, a part of the vigorous, swinging college lifestyle.

"There's no way I'd stand aside and let a jerk like that push ahead of me," Velasquez said with conviction. "His surface scattering theories are just so much hot air. He hasn't published anything new in the field for eight or nine months. Everybody in the department knows that he's run into a dead end. And, my, oh, my, it's just about time to renew the old government grant." The professor could hardly restrain his glee at the thought. "If he doesn't come up with something important, a major breakthrough quick, he's going to get cut where it hurts the most… in the funding!"

"But, if you think he's at a standstill in his research, why do I have to work for him, why do I have to spy?" she asked, meekly.

Velasquez snorted at her. "There is a very small chance that he might stumble onto something in the next few days," he said.

The steely look in his eyes suddenly softened, telling her that the chance of Bertrand stumbling onto something major was better than Velasquez wanted to admit.

"I want you to keep me up to date on his progress… and when the times comes, I will tell you how I want you to sabotage his work."

Joselyn groaned. "Sabotage?! Surely you don't…"

"Of course, I do!" he snapped. "Hasn't he tried to sabotage me?! Doesn't he deserve what's coming to him!!?" She had no answer for that. There was only one protest that she could make, and though she already knew what he would say to it, she made it anyway.