Vixen’s art teacher was a young man with a beard, a neatly trimmed red beard. He was fresh out of grad school, and this was his first position. He was hoping for tenure and then for a better job at a bigger and more prestigious school. He was not married and lived very frugally. The first time he saw Vixen as she entered his classroom, his genitals quivered. He wanted her. But, of course, he knew the rules; she was off limits.
Vixen studied him now and then as she stood at her easel and drew a cubic box, a tall vase and a polished ball with her charcoal pencil. She rubbed on some shading with her thumb, and when he came and stood behind her, she could smell him. Vixen took a deep breath and tried to relax as the man put his left hand on her shoulder and quickly improved her shading with his forefinger thus giving her figures more depth. She felt her vagina tighten involuntarily as his bulging groin touched her hip.
“It’s really very good,” he said, standing back and cocking his head. “You have a good eye.” What an ass, he thought, admiring the girl’s denim-covered buttocks. I’d love to draw it. And knead it. And bounce on it. He smiled to himself.
Jim Morris had never been very successful with the girls. He had dated off and on in high school, but in college he had worked almost full time and his social life all but disappeared. He wasn’t a virgin, exactly, since he had enjoyed a couple of late night blowjobs and humped briefly with two twenty-dollar, home-town sluts, but he had never really copulated with a girl his age, and he was eager to begin. As he stood behind Vixen, he felt himself becoming aroused and moved quickly to look at another student’s work. That night, lying on his back, he saw her in his mind, imagined her buttocks bared, and stroked himself to a gushing climax, spurting a half-dozen times with his scrotum in his fist.
By early December Vixen had enjoyed a number of campus lovers and was still seeing Ralph, the well-hung lacrosse star, when she felt the need for a big cock. Her Texan roommate was astonished and sometimes worried by all of the slight girl’s eager males, but since she was getting plenty of sexual attention, she tried not to concern herself about Vixen and the many eager men who bounced on her bones.
Vixen had set her sights on her English teacher. He was young and handsome, with a thin nose and a boyish grin. She was having less trouble doing research and learning to document her work than she had anticipated and was in the process of narrowing a research topic to be developed in the second semester into a footnoted paper with a proper bibliography. Ralph had told her than Mr. Valpor was considered a good teacher and that the rumor was that the man was engaged to be married into a wealthy Philadelphia family over the mid-semester break, “Main Line” he called it. Vixen was determined to find out how he was in bed.
The redheaded girl stood before her mirror and watched her wide-necked black sweater slide off her shoulder and hang from the jutting left boob on her 40D chest. She wiggled, and it stayed there even when she flexed her pectoral muscles and made her shapely jug bounce up and down. She smiled at her image and decided that she ought be able to get Mr. Valpor’s attention with that gesture.
She tossed her head and the dark sweater crept down another inch over her ivory breast, barely hanging onto her agitated tit. Vixen stroked her firm breast until her nipple hardened and then tried the whole process a second time. Her areolas were small and pink, and this time half of the left one showed against the black of the fuzzy sweater that stretched between out between over-sized jugs and hung down over her finger tips when she let it. She smiled at herself, feeling aroused. Even with her over-sized and silicone-improved jugs, she seldom wore a bra, and usually enjoyed the stimulation her sweaters gave her nipples.
The English class was held in the library and did exercises with newspapers and other periodicals both on-line and in the stacks along with reference works such as the Reader’s Guide. Back in the tall shelves of magazines, Vixen made her move. She approached the teacher with her yellow pad in the hand and her pencil between her teeth, batting her long eyelashes with her sweater poised on her rounded shoulder.
“Mr. Valpor,” she said and then took out the pencil and shrugged. The sweater started to slide. “I can’t find the July copy of this one.” She felt her breast being bared and looked up at his face as she held out her notepad. He blinked and then he swallowed. Sweat popped out on his forehead. It was at least as big as a softball, and it was rising like the moon.
“Perhaps someone has checked it out,” he said after clearing his throat, his eyes flickering back and forth as her high, firm breast came almost fully into view, a perfectly shaped mound of upturned pale flesh tipped with a thumb-sized nipple. He felt himself suddenly and fully aroused.
Vixen used the hand with the pencil in it to pull her sweater back up and smiled at the man, her big nipple fully hardened and jutting out like a fingertip. “Thanks,” she said, “I’ll check.”
Valpor rested his butt on the windowsill and watched her walk down the narrow aisle, auburn ponytail swishing back and forth, holding his clipboard over his groin. His cock ached, and he dearly wished his fiancée did not insist on waiting for the wedding. He could feel his testicles pulsing.
Excited by her attempted seduction, Vixen picked up Ralph after practice and mounted him on the reclined passenger seat of her Mustang, testing her car’s shock absorbers out in the park. When Ralph recovered, he knelt in front of the seat and took her from behind as she bent over the seatback, panting with pleasure as the leather stitching rubbed at her mound. She grasped the headrest with both hands and met his thrusts with her own, biting her lower lip to keep from squealing with pleasure.
The next afternoon, the drawing teacher announced that they were going to start doing life studies, sketching pictures of real people and that they would start by doing each other. He paired them off, mostly girls with girls and boys with boys, but Vixen ended up with an acne-scarred young man with pale blonde hair and a big nose.
She smiled at him and introduced herself. He said his name and sniffed, looking down shyly. They got to work. After thirty minutes or so, the students sat in a circle and held up what they had done for comments and criticism. The boy who had been drawing Vixen had only sketched in her hairline and carefully delineated her left eye, eyebrow and one side of her nose. Vixen had drawn his whole head, ignoring his acne scars and diminishing his crooked nose a bit, barely suggesting his unkempt hair. It was a decent likeness and was generally praised. Her subject blushed.
By the time they had gone around the circle, the class ended. She offered the boy her drawing, and he bowed and thanked her. “I’ve forgotten your name,” she said.
“Victor, James Victor,” he said and Vixen lettered that under his likeness. “Sign it, please?” the boy asked.
The girl wrote “Vixen” cater-corner.
He handed her his sketch and carefully placed hers in his pad of paper. They briefly smiled at each other.
Jim Morris, the art instructor, made the first move, stopping Vixen as she was about to leave. “Got a minute?” he asked and led her back to his small office.
She sat where he waved, on a wooden stool, and he sat behind his desk and twiddled with a pencil. “I think you have real talent,” he said. “Have you ever painted?” She sat with her knees apart, very unladylike, and her tight jeans displayed her swollen pussy which had entertained a horny sophomore the previous evening and was still pulsing.
She shook her head, measuring him and liking what she saw. He had a really nice beard, good shoulders and a broad chest. She wondered how well he was hung. She had noticed he had big feet. She shook her head and stopped glancing at his groin.
“Well, I hope you’ll take my acrylic class next semester. It’s acrylics this time and oils next year.”
“OK,” she said. “I need an elective.”
“I’m going out doing some sketching this weekend. Would you like to come along, out on the shore, down toward Cape May probably.”
Vixen sucked her teeth. “Gee, I’m sorry. I’m all booked up and there’s a lacrosse game tomorrow that I promised to go to.” If things went as scheduled, she would be fucked at least seven different men between Friday night and Sunday afternoon.
“Maybe next week if the weather’s good?”
She smiled and nodded. “OK. I’ll look forward to it.”
So will I, thought the teacher. So will I, damn it, as he resigned himself to another week of beating off.
When she left the studio, Vixen went to the classroom building and up to Mr. Valpor’s office, ready to try again. She pulled her cowl-necked sweater down off one shoulder, knocked, entered and saw he was correcting their periodical exercise. “How’d I do?” she asked.
“Didn’t notice,” he lied. Hers had been one of the few perfect papers.
“Wanted to ask about my topic. How about if I narrow down to just one year of her life?”
“Who was this?” he asked, looking up at the girl and seeing her incredible breasts jutting out at him as she stood with her hands behind her and rotated a bit from side to side. They jiggled. He choked back a moan.
“Carrie Nation, you know, the bar-room smasher.” She leaned forward and put her hands on his desk, feeling her massive melons hanging.
He nodded, trying not to look into the deep cleavage her loose-fitting sweater revealed.
“So anyhow, could I just pick a year, say 1901?”
“Sure. Why not, if you think there is enough material, I mean primary as well as secondary.” He kept his eyes on her face and watched her lick her lips, thinking of how his cock would feel where her tongue rested.
“Yes, sure, I think so.” She smiled and stood up straight, thrusting out her impressive chest.
“Would you do me a favor?" the teacher asked, well aware that his cock was hardening.
Vixen nodded, hoping he was going to try to seduce her. She was ready to fall on her knees between his legs at the faintest suggestion. She licked her lips again.
He pointed. “Open the door back there.” He was painfully hard and felt himself full of desire for this lovely girl. “It’s getting stuffy in here.” The college had very strict rule about fraternizing with students.
Vixen opened the door and then sat where he pointed. Mr. Valpor relaxed a bit but still found half his mind disrobing the girl who talked about Carrie Nation.
When she left the building, disappointed, Vixen almost bumped into James Victor, the boy whose face she had drawn. She was not aware of it, of course, but he had been following her. “Hi,” he said. “You going to lunch?”
“Yep.” She was very unhappy since her English teacher, on whom she had wasted so much energy and a fairly obvious invitation, did not seem interested. “How about Stew’s?”
“Mind if I join you?”
They sat and ate cheeseburgers and drank Cokes and talked about school in the old restaurant that catered to the college crowd. The boy surprised himself since he had almost never been able to talk to a female without choking. When they finished, Vixen looked up at him and asked, “Do me a favor, Jim?” She reached over and put her hand on his leg.
“Sure,” he said. “Anything.”
“Fuck me,” she said quietly and with a smile.
“What!” he gasped, putting his hand over his mouth as a couple of people looked at him.
“Come on,” she said, swallowing back a laugh, and they headed for the freshman dorm. Vixen had fully intended to get her English teacher between her legs that day, and she had, in her years of being sexually active, seldom failed to achieve her fleshy goals. She needed a man and got a rather scrawny virgin named James Victor.
When they got to the girl’s room, they found her roommate entertaining a guest under her blankets, a big lump in the center moving up and down. Vixen put her finger to her lips and pulled the boy over to her bed. “They won’t bother us,” she whispered, her hard breast rubbing his arm as she pulled him close. “Just get undressed.”
“Vixen,” he began, “I’ve never...”
She had pulled her sweater over her head, and he stood gaping at her bare breasts with their high, pink nipples. Unimaginable, said his mind. She sat, peeled off her shoes and wiggled out of her old jeans and then reached up and undid the boy’s belt and button, smiling up at him and seeing him begin to get excited, tenting out his white underwear as she pulled down his pants.
Vixen peeled off her tiny underpants and slipped under the thin blanket, mouthing the word, Hurry, and raising her arms in invitation, already hot and wet. The astonished young man fumbled off his clothes and got under the blanket and into her arms, wondering what was going on and if he were dreaming. Vixen kissed him and tongued him, holding him to her soft belly and jutting breasts, hooking one leg behind him to pull him closer.
James Victor had a normal penis that became, with encouragement, six inches or so of hard male flesh, and he also had all the normal instincts of a young man of eighteen, but what he did not have was experience. By three o’clock that afternoon, that deficiency had been thoroughly remedied.
Vixen quickly realized that she had a fumbling virgin in her bed and having enjoyed more than one of those in her high school days, she took over and became the most patient and encouraging instructor possible. She knew exactly how to get what she wanted.
After enough inept foreplay to get her hot and ready, she stroked his rigid prick just to make sure and then, pleased that it filled her hand, spread her legs and got him situated so he could not miss her fluttering gates in good old missionary position. She smiled up at him as she pulled his cock into her, took her hand away and opened her mouth to sigh with pleasure as she felt his blunt head penetrate her vaginal inner lips and begin to sink up into her followed by a throbbing stalk and tightly tensed balls.
“Oh that’s so so, so wonderful,” she praised, wiggling. “Now please don’t hurry. Go deeper.” And she wound her legs about him and hugged him to her overheated body.
James Victor’s mind shut down completely and much older centers of nerve action took over. His body knew just what to do and was ready and willing to do it. He began thrusting into the hot sheath that gripped and caressed his unused tool. He held each thrust until something within him seemed to snap electrically, and his cock jerked and began to recoil.
Then, moving just his hips and pelvis, he pulled back though the girl’s amazing grip and thrust home once more, gasping with pleasure as her vagina lubricated his efforts and quivered on his ram. Friction demanded his body. Release urged his genitals. Vixen’s mound quivered with joy, and her birth canal rippled with pleasure. She smiled up and him and rocked from side to side.
Vixen moved gently under the slight young man, well aware that he was doing his very best as he heaved and humped, his eyes closed and mouth gaping. She watched a vein throb in his forehead and moved her legs down behind his buttocks to push him deeper each time he rammed his prick into her.
He was doing better than many of her first-time lovers. She had been afraid that he might come at once as some of her virgins did, but now he seemed to be establishing a good pace.
“Jimmy, Jimmy,” she said quietly, and he opened his eyes. “Pull the pillow down under me, under my butt.” She raised her head and shoulders to make it easier. Once the improved angle was established, she kissed him hard, tongued him deeply and said, “Faster, faster,” bucking up under him as he crushed her clit and rubbed across her G-spot. “Harder, harder,” she gasped, arching.
“Oh god, god, god,” the boy moaned as he ejaculated, surprising them both. He looked over at the other bed with embarrassment, and then wondered when the other couple had left. His arched body barely paused after his shattering climax, and he resumed diving into the lush girl beneath him, gasping and grunting.
He smacked their flesh together, grinding at Vixen in a pleasurable manner so that she enjoyed a series of minor climaxes. She moved her legs higher on his back and kept her pelvis in rutting motion.
Vixen was gritting her teeth and doing her best to resist the frenzy building within her as she met his thrusts with her eager body, crushing them loudly together, grinding their pelvic bones. When she came, she spasmed and stiffened, frightening her untutored lover who feared he had done something wrong as she rolled him over and arched up to present his mouth with one nipple and then the other while she recovered herself and soaked his scrotum. It had felt like a thunderstorm in her head, and where they were joined was becoming a swamp.
Vixen praised him and encouraged him as she rode him, and they stayed grappled together until they both were spent and more than satisfied. Vixen held him in her arms and petted him until she felt his breathing and heart rate near normal and then she rolled out, pulled on his t-shirt and trotted down the hall to the bathroom.
When she returned, refreshed and dried, she rolled in beside the young man and sought his cock. “You were wonderful,” she told him as she stretched his sagging manhood. “Just wonderful.”
His balls were shrunken, but Vixen was not willing to give up without giving him her best efforts. She slid down his lean body and lapped his slack prick into her mouth. Her well practiced tongue and raking teeth soon brought him back to life, and she licked slowly around his glans as she coddled his scrotum which was rapidly swelling to fill her palm. She smiled inwardly, proud of herself.
Once he was stiff, Vixen pulled her inept lover to her and swallowed him up with her greedy cunt. He moaned as he sank into pleasure.
Their final coupling of the day lasted a good thirty minutes and left them both surprised and happy as the boy managed to arch up on fully extended arms and fire several ropes of his thick cum into the thrashing girl begging for more and more. When he was spent, she licked him clean, helped him dress and said she looked forward to seeing him after the next art class. He just nodded, trying to remember how to breathe.
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