Melinda Matson - A seductive student

Joselyn had a very pragmatic philosophy of life. She had learned long before that her face and body have her a decided advantage in any situation where men were concerned. Her chosen field Theoretical Chemistry, was highly competitive and totally dominated by men and she was determined to use every edge she had to get ahead. It wasn't that she doubted her ability to perform mentally that made her resort to using her body to get what she wanted; she knew that she was just as intelligent as her peers. She wasn't compensating for any defiency, but rather, using all of her physical attributes to set herself apart from the uniformly brilliant competition. Perhaps more she simply enjoyed using her body as a lure, a tool; she enjoyed screwing men both physically and mentally, messing up their heads, making them hop and skip to suit her whims.

She'd put a lot of thought into her choice or a male room mate. A guy had to fulfill certain criteria in order to become a candidate. First, he had to be handsome and experienced with women, a suitable sex partner. Paul more than fulfilled the bill in this regard. His name and phone number, followed by various superlatives, had appeared on the wall of every ladies room in the Chem Building. Second, he had to be someone who could help her further her career. As Paul was one of the most senior of the graduate students, she figured he knew his way around, where all the departmental skeletons were buried.

Though he seemed to be the logical choice for the job, after about two weeks of living together, Joselyn began to wonder if she hadn't made one big mistake. True, Paul had been in the Chem Department at Mira Pavo for a long time, but it turned out that his position was anything but secure. He had been a grad student there for six years, working under Dr. Ruta Blensch, supposedly attempting to finish his doctoral thesis. During this time, the maximum allowed for the completion of the Ph.D., he had accomplished next to nothing, but had been drawing a hefty salary from Dr. Blensch and her government research grant. There were plenty of rumors floating about that he would soon be shown the door and everyone in the department was openly marveling at how he'd been able to stay on as long as he had without producing anything more than the neatest office on the floor.

Paul knew precisely what was coming. He also knew that once he'd failed to complete his program at Mira Pavo, the chances of his finding another professor to sponsor him further was next to nil. He was a condemned man and he wasn't taking the sentence well. Instead of keeping a stiff upper lip, he tended to alternately sulk and blubber, presenting a weak, defeated, mush-mouthed front to the world… and no challenge to Joselyn in or out of the bedroom.

She realized that Paul's predicament wasn't entirely his fault. He'd had the bad fortune to pick Dr. Blensch for an advisor. An internationally renowned chemist, she belonged to the laissez-faire school of thought when it came to theses. If a student needed help, she would grudgingly take timeout from her own projects to give it, but she did not ride herd on her charges, making sure they were progressing toward the desired result. Given his predilection to inertia, Paul would have done much better to have chosen one of the department's little dictators who supervised every detail of the research and publication process, even down to the subject of the thesis itself. Joselyn could understand his problem and sympathize with it, but only up to a point.

"Are you hot, Paul?" she asked, finger fucking herself so furiously that her wet little pussy made squishy, messy sounds about her darting digits.

He could not answer. His face was nearly as congested as the head of his cock, and from the slit in the latter, a thin, milky fluid seeped. Each time his penis snapped up against his chest, it sent tiny drops of semen spattering over his hairless pectorals.

She paused in her self abuse, panting, feeling the muscles of her sphincter clutching rhythmically at the second joint of her doubled fingers. She was more than hot enough, herself. Her pussy was wet and stretched enough to easily accommodate Paul's huge cock. She didn't give in to the demands of her body though. She would not until she exercised her power over him, until she made him grovel for it. Rolling onto her back again, she spread her thighs wide, lifting her knees, showing him the soft, damp fringe of her pubic hair, the moist pink lips sucking so eagerly at her digits.

"If you want it," she said, thickly, removing her fingers, "you're going to have to kiss it for me."

Paul's eyes were glued to the glistening little slit, his Adam's apple bobbing furiously, his cock smashing into his sternum over and over again. He started towards her, reaching out for her smooth thighs.

She could see that he'd entirely misunderstood what she'd demanded of him.

"No!" she said, emphatically.

He froze again, panting, whining softly, his eyes huge with hurt and disbelief. "But… but you said…" he reminded her.

"I said you were going to have to kiss it," she told him. "I didn't say what the 'it' was."

"Oh," he said, as if she'd kicked him.

She smirked at him. For a guy was with an astronomical I.Q., he was sure fucking slow about some things. He'd actually thought she'd meant for him to lick her pussy! That was a prize, not a penance!

"Kiss that!" she demanded, pointing at the head of his cock.

"Huh?!" he said.

She could hardly keep from giggling at the look of astonishment on his face.

"I want to see you kiss it," she repeated, reaching down between her legs and teasing a fingertip around the wet mouth of her vagina.

"But, that's impossible!" he moaned.

She glared at him. Instead of out and out refusing to participate in the bizarre and degrading act, Paul had given voice to a weak and simpering protest. It was typical of him and it infuriated her no end.

"If you don't find a way to do it in the next sixty seconds," she said, sharply, "I'm going to get dressed."

Paul flinched. The poor guy was so turned on that anything less than her tight little pussy would've driven him mad. Groaning miserably, he gripped the neck of his engorged penis and bent his head down as far as he could, jamming his chin up against his chest, arching his back and tipping his hips forward. Though he pulled mightily on his hard cock, causing the loose outer sheath of skin to bunch up about the flaring rim, causing the head, itself, to turn a dark, purple, he couldn't bring the tip closer than five inches to his face.

"I'm going, Paul," Joselyn said, reaching over for her skimpy hot orange tube top.

He whimpered and frantically jerked on the rigid rod, extending his tongue, trying to bridge the unbridgeable gap. He was still two and a half inches away! Growling, he threw himself down on the floor on his back at the foot of the bed.

Joselyn pulled on the tube top, gingerly reaching inside to adjust her saucy bosoms. She straightened up, peering over the edge of the bed at young man writhing before her on the rug.

"Uhhhhhhghh!!" Paul grunted, throwing his knees up, tipping his torso back until all his weight lay on his shoulders and the back of his neck, until his thighs bracketed his head, until he faced his own crotch.

"Ten seconds," she reminded him, gleefully. From the angle she had of the proceedings, which was looking directly down on his exposed cock and balls, she could see his scrotum was totally hairless, a nasty, wrinkly maroon bag snuggled tight about the huge gonads.

Paul grabbed his cock with his left hand and with his right he gripped his buttocks, using the strength of his arms to bend his pelvis, to draw his groin and the stiff length of his penis closer and closer to his face. The gleaming bulb brushed the tip of his nose, then he jammed it full against his mouth, planting a loud, moist smack upon it.