Memoirs of a Non-Trad Pt. 01

There was broken glass everywhere. One mug, I thought. One fucking mug threw glass all over the goddamned room. I was trying to concentrate, I really was, but the problem wasn't just the glass (I mean, the glass was certainly an issue as I was having to do some ballerina-esque fucking tap-dance so I didn't get cut) it was the whole absurdity of the situation. There was nothing I could tell myself that would help me believe that this fucked up ordeal was in any way normal, or healthy, or sane. College had never been my thing, and this time around was my third endeavor; it still wasn't really my thing. At least the first time I had been young and single. That had provided me endless amounts of free time and the enjoyable perk of being able to fuck anyone who consented with little to no remorse.

Back then post-coital remorse had looked something like a modicum of shame borne of the realization that the bump in the sheets beside you was a hell of a lot larger than you'd thought it was the night before; that the pride in having bagged a beauty was actually going to be the shame of having fucked a pig, a point your roommate would be sure to dwell on for weeks or months to come. The second trip to college, although I was married, came without kids. For that reason I could somewhat commit myself to it even if the impact of fucking a freshman was far more serious than it had been in the past. This time though, there were the kids to consider. I had one toddler at home with an attitude bigger than herself and another on the way. There was no time, no freedom and overwhelming amounts of marital guilt keeping my genitals neatly pursed away in some distant land of my wife's choosing.

When had I gotten so fucking old? It was hard, no, impossible to tell. Things had started out well enough until family commitments had forced me to slide in each of my classes, little by little, the semester quietly sneaking away from me in no time at all. I had lost the ability to catch up leaving me with little or no options for another crack at academia next semester. So, there I was, in that tiny little office, a broken mug causing every hair on the back of my neck to tingle as I poised myself gingerly on the balls of my feet trying so desperately to focus on the task at hand without tearing a hole in my foot in the process. I knew it was useless, I'd have better odds of paying attention to a poetry recitation in a war zone than I would to this teacher in this room at this university, but I knew I had to try.

I firmly planted my feet, new determination rushing through me. I gritted my teeth against the pain as crystalline shards of souvenir shop wares dug deep within my soles. I thought not of the pain nor of the terribly arduous and mundane task at hand. I thought instead of my family and the shithole hovel we currently lived in. I thought of job prospects made rich by the presence of an arbitrary piece of paper signed by some fucking dean with a god complex seated high in his tower of poorly funded academic supremacy. I knew that if I could steel my nerves and finish this test I'd be well on my way to a better life. I focused on that and hammered away, committed to get the work done.

With renewed vigor, I found simplicity in these actions. They evolved from some dreaded task into routine motion, as normal as writing one's own name. I gave it all the effort, every ounce of strength I could muster, and through these actions an observation arose: she approved. My teacher, previously scowling at my lackluster efforts now wore a look of approval on her face. More than approval, she seemed ecstatic. She gripped the edges of her desk as I worked, her gaze boring into me, seemingly saying "get this right if you want to pass." I was sweating now. I made to wipe my brow and stopped. Better just focus on keeping a rhythm. The nerves inside of me made my stomach churn. My muscles were tight and an anxiety rode electric down my spine causing spasms from my neck to the the back of my balls. I was getting close. Harder and harder I worked, her look of ecstasy shifted into pure, savage, erotic bliss. She was moaning out loud and though the sound of her revolted me intensely I found that I too was grunting with the efforts of my labor. My dick thrust in and out of her, wet from sweat and pussy combined. Each pull elicited a gasp, an anticipatory breath before Id drive the whole thing home again. She was almost crying now on every thrust, the force of my body sending visible shockwaves through her extra flesh. The slapping sound of sweaty skin against a large naked ass was loud in here, the cheaply plastered walls fully annunciating each and every syllable of our fuck.

"Gra... Grab..." She let out a deep, uncontrollable and rattled breath. "Grab my fucking tits."

I did as I was told. In all fairness, her tits were the best part of her. I enjoyed their feel beneath my grip. They were large but her nipples were small. The areolas barely visible beneath my fingers as I pinched and tickled each beautiful nip. I leaned over her without being told and took one in my mouth. I breathed in as much of that boob as would fit and licked furiously at the flesh that filled my mouth. I dropped my right hand, now relieved of its duties, and moved it to her hip. Slowly I teased as my hand moved closer, just barely grazing that tender flesh that exists at the union of tummy and hip, closer still to her pubic hair and down to her clit. She was close, I could tell, and if I was honest so was I. I rammed her harder and harder still. Each push and pull was a statement in an act. Each violent entry said, I hate you, and every withdrawal threatened to say it again.

"Oh Go... God... Jimmy! Fuck me Jimmy, Fuc... OHHHHH Fuuuu... Oh fuck... ohhh. Ohh."

She was obviously cumming and this was my cue, I knew I had just seconds to cum. If I didn't it would be the same fucking hell all over again. She'd been so irate after cumming the first time, only to see that I still hadn't done as much, that shed snatched that mug off her desk and smashed it to the floor. "You will come when I cum or we will just have to do it again." It was not a suggestion, nor was it a question. It was a mandate; one she was fully capable of making because, as she knew, my grades were in her hands.

"Oh... yes..."

She was getting quieter, it had to be now. I penetrated her deeply and thought of every beautiful ass I had seen that day, imagined fucking those young sexy college girls with supple tits and shaven pussies. I imagined the way they smelled, the way they tasted and the tightness in their hips. Each stroke got me closer to that edge.

I let out a low and primal grunt as I felt my dick begin to twitch and my balls begin to tighten. This was it. I knew it was coming and so did she. Just as I prepared to let loose the teacher threw another curveball; a trick question on an already difficult test. I felt it before I heard it, a warm breath of air against the skin of my sack followed by a low pitched squeak and the most ungodly smell I'd ever smelled. The bitch farted on my sack. I lay against her, going soft inside her, unable to come and in utter disbelief. Sill I tried, waiting for her to stop me, weakly having my way with her, praying it would end. Her hands grasped the side of my head, gently, and raised my eyes to meet her own. I was still feebly pounding away, my hands off her body, now braced against the desk.

"Ohhh, wow Jimmy... wow..." It was almost a whisper.

I looked at her and after one or two more uncertain thrusts I stopped completely.

"Oh wow," She was still catching her breath. "Did you cum?"

"No Ma'am."

"Oh God! Jimmy," She giggled a bit as she said my name. Her giggles were heinous and hurt my ears. "Well then, give me a minute. I'm fairly certain I can go again. And quit worrying, nobody's here. The building is always empty this time of night. If you keep this up I just might sleep here tonight."

She giggled again.

"Ma'am," I replied. "I really should get going. My wife will..."

"One rule Jimmy. I have one rule. Do not mention HER while you're with ME."

Actually, I thought, you have a lot of rules. The least of which isn't to hold me hostage so I can get a passing grade.

"I am so kindly offering you extra credit when you rightfully deserve to fail. Do not test my kindness."

Her eyes were locked on mine and the sternness in that look made me think of an old schoolmarm even though she was only a few years older than I.

"Yes ma'am"

"Yes ma'am is right. Now, we are going to try this again and if you'd really like to go home this time you will cum. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Now, I am not ready to fuck again, after all that was the third time. You can eat my pussy until I'm ready to go."

Oh God, when the fuck will that be.

As though she'd read my mind, or possibly only sensed the revulsion that I had at the prospect of being wedged between her big fat thighs, she giggled once more. "I'll tell you when I am ready."

Shuddering to think of how long that might be I lowered myself to be between her thighs and began to do as instructed. After one or two licks, I felt her hands on my head, pushing as they always did, pushing me down. My tongue fell soft against her clit, and then her labia, and then her taint as she kept on pushing, until finally I was licking her ass. It was how she liked it. Knowingly, I raised my hands, left thumb making circles on her clit while my right hand fingered her deeply, because that too was how she liked it. She let out a sigh, obviously content to have me where I was, licking her shit hole and massaging her cunt. I silently cursed the woman as I did my work. She never ASKS to have her ass eaten, no. That would be too much for her to admit. Just say, 'EAT MY ASS' and do away with the ladylike pretext. Words like that and much more poured through my brain as I continued to work, waiting for her permission to give her dick once more; cursing her and the broken glass as it dug into my knees.