Work for an A
It was a hot June day outside, which meant summer break was approaching—but only for those who had managed to pass their exams on time. Dasha stood hesitantly in front of the door to the head of the mathematics department's office, nervously biting her lips. Right now, behind that door, the professor was filling out grade sheets for the first-year students, which included her, and she knew he was going to give her a C. At yesterday's exam, the professor had blatantly failed her, giving her no chance. Dasha, a gold medalist since school, accustomed to being a straight-A student, couldn't allow that. She was aiming for a red diploma, and she couldn't even imagine how her parents would react to the news that their smart daughter had slipped to C's, even if it wasn't her fault. She knew she had to do something, but now it was too late. The professor teaching calculus was a tough man, and Dasha had absolutely no idea what she had done to upset him. All that was left was to beg on her knees, and even that probably wouldn't work…
Dasha timidly knocked on the door and quietly entered the office.
"Hello, Valery Viktorovich," she greeted cautiously, "May I come in?"
"You're already in, Antonova," the professor took off his glasses and looked at the student with displeasure. The professor was about fifty years old, a large and heavy-set man. His perpetually stern and dissatisfied face seemed carved from stone, and from under heavy gray eyebrows peered small, attentive eyes. This elderly man evoked nothing but disgust and timidity in the girl, but despite that, she had already tried batting her eyelashes at him a couple of times. Usually, this method always worked for her, and all the A's from other male professors at the university she had gotten exactly that way. But the mathematician was too stern and unyielding, so the young brunette's ample chest and long legs had no effect on him.
"You still didn't improve your C," he said, "Though I warned you. You have all A's in your other subjects for the semester, right?"
Dasha nodded.
"I… I didn't have time, Valery Viktorovich," the student babbled. "You understand, I'm graduating with honors, aiming for a red diploma, and here…"
"And what's here?" the professor grimaced. "I'm already entering the grades, right now."
He pointed to the grade sheet for her group lying in front of him.
"Have you already entered mine?" the girl asked anxiously.
"Not yet," the professor replied, "And what good will it do you? You won't pass the exam in five minutes, no matter how hard you try. So go home, your classes are over, right? So go."
"Well, Valery Viktorovich, please," the girl pleaded, "Maybe there's some other way? I'll fix everything, just tell me what to do. I'll do anything for you, just don't give me a C!"
"Anything, you say?" the professor raised his eyebrows. "Well, maybe, maybe…"
A spark of hope flared in Dasha's eyes. The girl nodded joyfully.
"What should I do?" she asked eagerly.
Valery Viktorovich leaned back in his chair and looked over his student. Dasha was a normal eighteen-year-old student, tanned, slender, and fit. Her lush black hair was tied back in a ponytail. Dasha was dressed for the weather—in short white shorts, a tight blue T-shirt, and summer sneakers on her feet.
"Let's see what you can do," the man said thoughtfully, rising from the desk. He walked to the office door and locked it from the inside with a key, then slowly approached Dasha from behind.
The girl watched his actions without moving. She didn't know what he had in mind, but she was ready to gladly seize any chance to get the desired grade.
The professor hugged the girl from behind by the shoulders. Dasha shuddered at the touch of his rough, short fingers. She turned to look at him in fright.
"Well, come on, show me how much you want that A," the man said, breathing heavily into the student's ear.
"Viktor Valeryevich," Dasha stammered.
"What?" said the professor. "You said it yourself: anything. So I'm offering you… an option. If you don't want it, then get out of here… And I'll fill out and sign your grade sheet."
"I… Okay…" the girl exhaled.
"Good girl," the professor praised her. "Going for an A. Well, come on, sit down."
He seated Dasha on a chair and stood in front of her so that her face was right at his crotch. He unzipped his pants and took out his wrinkled, gray-haired penis. Watching it swell and stiffen near her face, Dasha felt nauseous. She looked at the professor with tear-filled eyes. He silently placed his palm on the back of her head and pressed, pushing the head of his penis against her lips.
"Start working," he said.
Dasha opened her mouth and enveloped the stiff head with her lips. She tried not to touch his penis with her tongue, but when the professor began moving his hips, driving his penis deeper into her mouth, she gave up on that idea. The head slid smoothly between her wet lips, repeatedly meeting the girl's tongue. With her nose, she bumped into the thick gray pubic hair protruding from the professor's pants, making it hard for her to breathe.
"That's it, Antonova, come on, be more active," the man urged, thrusting into the student's mouth faster and faster. "Thought you'd bat your eyelashes at me, and that's it? Just give you an A? Nooo, you're going to work it off in full now…"
Finally, Viktor Valeryevich released the student's head, pulled out his penis, and stepped back from her.
"Get up, come on," he rasped heavily.
Dasha, wiping her lips with her palm and quietly sniffling, rose on wobbly legs. She was no longer sure that all of this was a good idea. She wasn't sure she wanted to continue. At the very least, she hoped it wouldn't go further than this. She stood before her professor almost half-naked, and he examined her young, slender body. Finally, he stood up and, reaching out his hand, touched the girl's breasts through her bra. Dasha flushed and almost recoiled from him, but with some titanic effort of will, she remained standing in place. Valery Viktorovich moved close to her and began carefully, as if testing her reaction, massaging her breasts. Not feeling any resistance from the girl, he moved lower, stroking her stomach with his palms, sliding to her hips. Kneading her firm buttocks in his hands, the teacher looked intently into her face. Tears glistened in Dasha's eyes, but she held back from crying. The mixture of shame and disgust she felt barely showed on her face. Clenching her lips and looking somewhere at the wall over the professor's shoulder, she endured his sweaty, hot hands roaming her body and prayed that Valery Viktorovich would limit himself to just this. That he, after groping the girl to his heart's content, would let her go, and they could both forget this wild story. But the professor clearly had no intention of stopping. He wanted to use her to the fullest.
His fingers slid up the inside of her thigh and began feeling her crotch through the fabric. Then he pressed his palm against her lower abdomen and slipped his hand into the girl's panties, stroking her smoothly shaved pubic mound with rough fingers. Snorting with excitement, the man slid the straps of the student's bra off her shoulders and pulled it down. Dasha had full, firm breasts, lighter than her tanned body from wearing a swimsuit. The man lustfully pressed his lips to them, greedily licking and covering them with slobbery, sucking kisses. Tears rolled down the girl's cheeks. A lump of nausea rose in her throat. Finished with the fondling, the man grabbed her by the shoulders and bent her over the nearby desk, pressing her bare chest against the cold, lacquered surface. Without unbuttoning, he forcefully pulled Dasha's shorts down and slid off her thin panties. The girl's juicy, firm buttocks glistened appetizingly under the rays of the May sun. She felt the fresh wind blowing into the open office window on her bare bottom. Valery Viktorovich, without preamble, positioned himself behind his student and began to have his way with her. Firmly gripping the girl's delicate, tanned hips, he rhythmically drove his hardened penis into her. (Specially for .org — ) Lying with her cheek on the desk and squeezing her eyes shut, Dasha choked back tears. She felt everything the man was doing to her with every cell of her body. She felt the thick, red head moving back and forth inside her, felt the pain from the iron grip of the man's fingers as he fucked her, felt the unbearable heat of the tense male penis inside her, and how her professor's prickly, hairy crotch touched her buttocks. He, growling like an animal, savored fucking her from behind, enjoying every movement. Placing his hands on the girl's shoulders, he pulled Dasha toward him, making her arch her back. The movements of his penis became faster, sharper. The man leaned on her from behind with all his weight, and the desk on which the girl lay creaked plaintively. Valery Viktorovich pressed against Dasha and breathed heavily into her ear. After a few more quick thrusts, he came.
Snorting with satisfaction, the man pulled away from her and tucked his limp penis back into his pants.
"Well done, Antonova," he exhaled, "you'll get your A. You earned it. Give me your grade book."
Dasha carefully pulled her shorts up over her sore hips. Then she picked up her slipped bra and somehow put on her crumpled T-shirt.
Silently, she handed her grade book to the professor. Grinning, he quickly signed it and returned it.
"Here, take it," he said, looking at the tearful student. "We have a whole semester next year with your course… And you and I already have experience communicating. So, if there are any questions… You know how to solve them."