What a Dirty Old Bird I Am

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My marks are usually obvious. The eager younger or older woman in class who display their deep interest in the curriculum as a euphemism for their attraction to the sexy eminence of their professor, that would be me.

There were three glorious fatty cakes in the class. I love giant women. These ladies were all about the same age, late twenties or early thirties, and too bright to be taking community college courses unless life had derailed their education earlier.

Madeline was the most attractive–and heaviest–weighing at least 250 pounds, but topped by a beautiful, sculpted face that was proportional to a smaller person. I was shocked walking behind her, spying her baby elephant legs. I am sure she fucks vigorously, but the opportunity for seduction never arose.

Carly was neither as big nor as cute. In fact, she had a pointy nose and otherwise bland white-bread features. She was assertive, always coming over to talk after class, nudging into my space as if she wanted to envelope me, while talking about some aspect of that day’s lecture. When she sat in her seat, her blubbery tits rested upon the desk as she took old-fashioned notes by pen.

Linda was far and away the most attractive, though not the prettiest. Her face was big and mannish unless she smiled. A glow of intellect lighted up her face. She had short hair, but was endowed with smooth lines of eyes, cheeks, and mouth, a button nose, and wore little diamond gems adorning her ears. She was, like Carly, in the 200 pound range and carried herself like a trim, muscled athlete.

All three could be had by telling them their beauty was exceeded only by their intelligence, but I hesitated to pull the trigger on any of them. I usually prefer beautiful brown Latinas, but this semester’s crop was dominated by two classic blondes, Morgan and Taylor.

Morgan was stately, tall, and delicate of face. She was one of those beauteous creatures that could wear torn jeans, a wrinkled tee shirt, and holey sneakers and still look elegant–and she did. Her long legs and tiny breasts beckoned as she sat at her desk first, before anyone else, greeted me with a radiant smile, and bid me an intimate goodbye at the end of the class.

Taylor could be described exactly like Morgan, blonde corn-silk hair and bright blue eyes refocusing attention from her tall, sinewy, elegance. Unlike Morgan, Taylor dressed fashionably, though frequently baring patches of flesh tone of her flat belly and smallish buttocks. Her tits were mere swollen nipples, usually barely wrapped in a tube or tank top. She always arrived at the last minute before class, either chronically late or calculated to get my attention with her penetrating smile hello.

Nevertheless, goddess Taylor had a defect. She was a nose picker. I didn’t notice her bad habit Ankara bayan escort at first, but, like others afflicted with that behavior, Taylor seemed to let herself get caught, staring into my eyes as her long-nailed fingers hovered at her nostril. I fantasized that she would offer me a taste of her sweet, gummy, booger after fucking.

Typically, I nail my chosen favorite on the day of the final exam. This term, however, I was undecided between Morgan and Taylor. Ironically, Taylor approached me before the exam, acting like she was ready to be taken.

“Did you grade my paper, Professor Hager?” A whiff or perspiration odor wafted from her bare underarm, delicious enough to stiffen my rod.

“Yes,” I told her enthusiastically. “I especially liked the way you wove the two stories together.”

“That wasn’t mine,” Taylor said in a flat voice.

“It was me,” Morgan said behind me. I had mixed them up.

I mumbled a lame explanation that failed to satisfy them that my confusion was any reflection on their status. Sexy white girls all look alike to me, I guess. They were two A students that I wouldn’t get to fuck this time around. I lost both ladies.

During the exam, a student named Melanie kept looking up from her laptop and smiling after averting her eyes. She was boyish looking with short reddish curls and freckles. Not only did she look more like a boy than a girl, she looked twelve.

“I can grade your exam right away,” I told her. “If you can wait in my office for five minutes.”

She nodded without speaking, yet smiled shyly. I suspected she was hot for me and as we walked to my office, she told me her story.

“You remind me of my grandpa,” she said. That was a new one, not conducive to stimulating my ego. “He died last year. I really miss him.”

I didn’t know whether her old gramps diddled her–I doubted it–but I saw a clear path into her immature vagina.

We chitchatted about nothing on the long walk to my first floor office. She thought nothing of my locking the door behind us as I ushered her to the couch with a proise to read and grade her exam first.

Melanie spoke again about her beloved grampa and seemed so immature that I pushed the envelope.

“I’m just going to get changed first,” I informed her. “I prefer to grade papers in casual clothes.”

Melanie nodded with her hands folded in her lap as if what I said was the most normal thing in the world. Her eyes widened, though she didn’t make a peep, as I began to undress in front of her.

I unbuttoned and took off my shirt first, carefully holding my belly taut, and left my plain white tee on. Her unpainted lips parted when I unhitched my belt. It apparently never occurred to her to avert her eyes. She watched me drop my trousers Escort bayan Ankara to my knees, where I laughed as if embarrassed as I pulled off one leg and then the other.

I knew she was eyeing the bulge in my navy blue jockeys and I nonchalantly touched myself, as if straightening my balls inside their pouch. I am pretty sure her youthful spigot opened. I wished I was close enough to sniff her.

I turned–letting her see that I had I a flat ass, not a fat old man’s can–and grabbed my blue jeans and a sweater. I stepped into the jeans before my erection popped out of my many panties, as I was aroused by my striptease–sort of. She watched everything.

I sat at the desk, spending no more than two minutes on her final, scrawling A in red pen on it. I called her to my side. She leaned over me, her chest rubbing against my right arm as I pointed out her strongest sentences. I smelled her sweet minty breath. She had anticipated closeness. Why else would she have chomped on mints before coming down to my office with me?

“Why don’t you stay awhile?” I invited her in a hushed, nonprofessorial voice. “Tell me about your grandfather.”

“I’d like that,” she eagerly replied and let me take her hand to lead her to the couch.

As she told me a story about bike riding with Gramps, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her ass onto my knee. She seemed to enjoy the hugging in a nonsexual way. I cradled one of her small muffin breasts in my left hand and rubbed the opposite side ass cheek with my right hand. She accepted my touch–either out of innocence or whorishness.

When she paused her storytelling, I touched her lips with mine.

She kissed me back, but said, “Can I go to the bathroom first?”

The “first” made me chuckle. “Sure, there’s a unisex lavatory down the hall. I’ll go with you.”

Melanie didn’t realize that I meant the literally until I went through the door with her.

“It’s okay,” I assured her. She hesitated before entering one of the stalls. I went into the one next door.

We listened to each other rain of urination. The sound of a woman pissing always turns me on. I listened to her spinning the toilet paper roll and wiping. She peeked into my stall with the door ajar and I made sure she saw me tapping and jiggling before tucking away Mister Man.

She was silent–nervous perhaps–on the way back to my office. When we went inside, she fell into my arms and I swept her up into my arms and carried her to the couch. We kissed for what seemed like hours. She barely breathed and spoke not a sound.

I rubbed her tiny titties–first outside her man’s plaid shirt, then inside the shirt, then inside her plain bra. I rubbed her belly and slid my other hand down the back of her jeans. She Bayan escort Ankara wore full cut undies–like an old lady’s–and ran my forefinger up and down her crack, which was moist with sweat. When I paused our endless kissing to smell and taste her on my fingers, she giggled in embarrassment.

“What’s it taste like?” she asked curiously.

“Like a lady,” I answered. Then I reached down the front of her slacks and found her briar patch. I knew she wasn’t a wax and shave kind of girl.

Her face held a quizzical look as I sloshed around her maiden mud puddle. The sight, sound, and smell was clearly new to her. Maybe she never even masturbates.

“Come,” I said, meaning she should sit up. As she did, I yanked sown her pants and saw a smooth, dimpled ass and dark hairy thicket, my fingers tickling her fancy. I nudged apart her thighs and felt her entire body shiver as I lowered my head to her pussy and tasted it.

A few minutes later I resumed kissing her, letting her lick the buttery smearing around my mouth, tasting herself. Then I told her to get topless while I took out my cock.

I put my tool in her hand and told her to touch it,stroke it, and squeeze it while I pinched her nipples.

“Kiss it,” I commanded and she complied, smooching the head of my penis.

“Now lick it,” I asked and she dabbed at it with her tongue.

“Now see if you can get it all in your mouth.”

She did and seemed to pickup on the rhythm of fellatio.

She paused sucking my cock to say, “Me and my girlfriend used to practice with a banana and a cucumber.” I was surprised.

“Are you ready?” I asked, holding my throbbing cock and hovering over her.

The little lynx responded by spreading her legs and lifting them toward the ceiling.

Melanie’s cunt was so tight it squeezed my pecker and I could get no more than two-thirds of my length up her cleft.

She yelped and I sensed blood from her ripping hymen. I grabbed her ass with both hands and stuck my shaft all the way inside her.

A wanton voice whispered in my ear, “Fuck me, please! Harder, yes!”

After we separated, I licked the blood from her pubic hair and she licked up the droplets left on my dick.

“I’m fixed,” I told her. “I had a vasectomy a few years ago, but don’t let boys your age fuck you without a condom. Okay, sweetie?”

“I won’t, Professor.” She smiled. “I wanted you to bust my cherry and fuck me bareback because you’re special to me.”

“I know,” I interrupted. “I remind you of your grandpa.”

A mature, sensual, erotically awakened woman gave out a thundering laugh.

“But old gramps never made me feel like you do.”

“I should hope not,” I laughed as she skulked toward me on all fours, lathered in sweat from head to foot. She took my cock in hand, cradled my balls, and welcomed my erection between her lips. A moment later she swallowed my seed.

As Melanie quietly got dressed, my wife, Judith, called on my cell. “Working late?”

“Yeah, grading papers,” I told her.

“Well, have fun,” my wife said as Melanie fluttered her fingers to wave goodbye.

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