Gaby was in her City University office, trying to finish some work before meeting Ben for dinner at a nearby restaurant. She stood - her back to the door - at her filing cabinet, flipping through multi-colored folders, in search of an old research paper she wanted to take home with her.
The poorly lit room was barely larger than an office cubicle. In addition to the filing cabinet, it was crowded with a large, dented, steel desk - probably, she thought, built during the Reagan administration - two mismatched bookshelves filled with books, and two chairs - one a rolling faux leather armchair she used, and the other a low, worn, upholstered chair she guessed might be older than the desk.
It did, however, have one feature which made Gaby choose it over other offices she'd been offered; it had a small window - one that actually opened. Located on the fourth floor, it didn't offer much of a view, but she could leave it open without fear of anyone crawling in.
"Professor D," a male voice said, from the doorway. "Do you have a minute? I need some help."
She stifled a long sigh as she turned around. Her schedule had been the same all semester, yet students routinely waited until the last five minutes of "office hours" to walk in her door.
"What can I..." she began.
"I know it's late in the semester," he said, interrupting her, "but is there anything I can do to raise my grade? Like extra credit."
She almost laughed when she saw him, but stopped herself. His heavy frame filled the doorway, and he was more than a foot taller than Gaby.
"Why don't you have a seat," she said, pointing to the chair closest to the door.
As he sat down, she moved over to lean against the front corner of her desk.
"So, you've been struggling," she said, "and you're just now asking for help?"
"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been trying to muddle through, but it's hard."
Again, she fought to suppress a laugh.
"I know things can be...difficult," she said. "But, you should have come sooner."
She watched as his eyes traveled up her petite, 5'2" body, starting at her strappy, four-inch, black heels; over her dark stockings; her black pencil skirt which ended just above her knees, and up to her pink silk, sleeveless, button-up blouse. His gaze lingered on the outline of her perky 32B breasts, then rose to her face, appreciating her red lips, small cute nose, and deep brown eyes. She was topped off by pixie cut dark brown hair.
"At this point," she said, lifting her ass and sliding back to sit on the desk, "there isn't much that can be done."
"Please, I need to pass your class in order to graduate," he said, as he watched her cross her legs. "I'll do anything."
"You sound pretty desperate," she said.
"I am," he allowed.
"Well," she said, slipping off the desk, "I'm afraid there's only one thing you can do to raise your grade."
She walked over and closed her office door.
"Like I said, I'll do anything," he told her.
"You've been studying?" she asked.
"As much as I can," he said.
"Do you think you could handle an oral exam?" she asked, drifting back to the front edge of her desk.
"I think that's where I perform best," he said.
"Really?" she asked, rhetorically. "Many of my male students have difficulty with them."
"Many?" he questioned, his voice rising slightly, before falling back to a whisper. "Then I'm not the only one, uh, having a hard time?"
A short giggle escaped Gaby's throat. She stood in front of him, very close, between his knees. He could smell her perfume.
"It is a hard subject," she whispered.
"I'd appreciate any help you can give me, professor," he said.
"The secret to mastering any subject or activity is lots of practice," Gaby said, letting her hands fall to the sides of her skirt.
He watched as she pulled the fabric upward. As the hem rose, exposing the top of her thigh high stockings, she lifted her right leg, placing her foot on the chair, between his legs. He placed his hands to her ankle. He looked up into her eyes as his hands proceeded upward slowly, trailing over the nylon.
His fingers traced along the top of her stocking, tickling her skin. Her body quivered. Bunching the skirt around her waist, she reached out to steady herself, placing her right hand on his left shoulder. His hands continued upward. The fingers of his right hand found the crotch of her thong panties. He could feel her heat through the lace.
"Ohhhh," she sighed as his fingers pressed against her lips.
Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse, trying to open them as he rubbed her.
"Is this OK?" he asked, tentatively.
"It's a good start," she whispered. "But, you might want to work a little faster. This is a timed exam. I have to meet my fiancé soon."
"Your fiancé?" he asked. "If you're engaged, why are..."
"Do you want this extra credit, or not?" she asked, cutting off his question.
He shrugged his shoulders before nodding.
"Then get to work," she ordered.
His left hand squeezed her ass hard. Her body stiffened. He stood up quickly, knocking her off balance. Before she could fall, his strong hands grabbed her upper arms. He walked her backwards until her ass made contact with the edge of the desk. The metal was cool against her cheeks.
"Lie back," he growled.
As she complied, he pushed her legs apart, and knelt between them. Without waiting, he gave the inside of her left thigh a gentle bite. She yelped and her body jumped. He slipped the first two fingers of his left hand inside the front of her panties. He pulled the material aside as his tongue trailed across her skin.
He found her wetness with his mouth and her body involuntarily tried to fold up. He grabbed her right leg and held it against his shoulder; her left dangled over the side of the desk. As his tongue found her clit, he let his fingers slide over her lips. Carefully, he inserted the tip of his forefinger. Her hot, wet cunt clutched at him as he went deeper. He flicked her bud with his tongue, and added a second finger.
"That's it," she whispered. "Just like that."
He began moving his fingers in and out of her, trying to wiggle them as his lips and tongue danced over her most sensitive spots. Quickly, she began to writhe on top of her desk. Her breath came in short gasps, and she put her right hand over her mouth, as if trying to stay quiet. Seeing this, he increased the speed of his efforts, taking her clit between his lips and sucking gently even as he fucked her hard with his fingers.
Even his five o'clock shadow, rough against her inner thighs - and more intimate parts - helped push her toward bliss. Her ass lifted from the desk, but he stayed with her, relentlessly driving her toward the temporary oblivion of orgasm. A moment later, her body convulsed as she went over that edge. She shook violently, and her cunt squeezed his fingers, but he did not take his mouth or fingers from her.
"Yes! Yes, I'm cumming," she hissed, as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him into her.
She let out a long moan as he continued pushing his tongue against her. She tried to speak - to plead with him to keep going, but her climax prevented her brain and mouth from working together. He did not intend to stop. He began to hum against her cunt. The vibrations rumbled though her petite body like an earthquake. Her fingers raked through his short hair as she clawed at his head. Pulling his fingers from her wetness, he grabbed her hips, trying to steady her as she came.
