It wasn't all that difficult. I did my homework. Well, no. I did not read the text and take notes and all that crap. That is for squares. The homework I did was getting info about the prof who taught the course. Any fool can read and take notes and study. It takes real skill to find a man's weakness and to exploit it.
Professor Robert Littlejohn was middle aged and looked OK on the TV monitor in class. Yeah. A fucking TV monitor. That's what we watched, all 2500 of us slobs in Intro to Social Science. He had student assistants in each classroom that handed out tests and made sure we did not do our nails or read a newspaper in class.
I was bored, bored, bored and on the way to failing this idiot class when I decided to do something about it, like get off my ass and find out this guy's weaknesses and use them to my advantage.
I did some snooping and found out he was married, had three kids, all girls, lived in a house he probably paid too much for, and was on the short list to make tenure this year.
I got his phone number from the faculty directory and made my first call to his house a few weeks before finals, which I knew I was going to fail. My goal was to find out how he and his wife got along. If they were lovey dovey I was going to have to alter that and if they were not, well, so much for the better; less work for me and a faster path to my goal, an A in this stupid class.
"Hi. Is Professor Littlejohn there?" I asked sweetly when a woman answered the phone. I got my first clue about their relationship when the receiver was banged down so hard it hurt my ear.
"It's for you, lover. One of your sweet young things wants to talk with you."
My confidence went up 100 percent when I heard this. When Littlejohn came on the phone I asked him something stupid just to get him to talk. I kept asking him questions about the class, making sure we stayed on the line a good fifteen minutes.
I called again a couple of nights later and went through the same routine. I wish I had been a fly on the wall that night after we hung up.
I called again the next night and told him I was sorry if I was causing him any problems with his wife but that I was really concerned about my grade in his class. I made an appointment to see him the next afternoon.
I dressed carefully for my appointment; shortest skirt I owned, peasant blouse-you know the kind that are off the shoulder and scooped out in front. When I leaned forward to check myself in the morror my tits almost fell out. Of course I did not wear a bra.
My pussy was juicing when I knocked on his office door. I slid inside his office and closed the door behind me, pushing in the little knob that locked the door. I swiveled my way to the chair by his desk when he told me to sit down.
I crossed my legs slowly when I sat down, giving him a good look up my thighs to my panties; a pair of black bikinis that barely covered my puss. I felt I had him when his eyes followed my legs as if they were on a string. Tits and ass will get to a man every time had been my motto ever since I found out that men liked what I had.
I leaned forward, letting my blouse gap open, my tongue sliding along my red lips making them shine. "I'm worried about my grade," I told him, a soulful look on my face and a catch in my voice.
Littlejohn didn't know whether to stare at my tits, exposed almost to my nipples, or my thighs, open wide enough to keep my bikini panties in view or my mouth, all soft and round and moist.
He hrumpted a couple of times and looked up my grades after getting my student number. His hands were shaking as he ran a finger down the printout-yeah, a computer printout listing students by number not name. That's how much the university thought of us; numbers, tuition paying numbers.
He groaned when he saw the string of Ds and Fs by my student number. I thought he was going to cry when he told me it was going to be difficult to pass with these grades.
I leaned forward and put a hand on his knee. I swear there were tears in my eyes and I had the most earnest look I could create on my face when I told him I just had to pass to keep my scholarship and that my parents would just kill me if I failed.
His cock was tenting his pants and I knew I had him when he did not push my hand away. He just stared at my tits and crotch as I slid my hand up his thigh until I had it pressed to his hard cock.
He licked his lips as he stared at me and some vestige of ethical crap flickered over his face as he looked at my face, telling me I just needed to study.
