Grade B Spun for a Grade a Girl

Edited by NaughtyMike

The main disadvantage of me dating somebody who has never been to college was that Duane didn't always fully appreciate the pressures and responsibilities involved with higher education. It isn't that he deliberately stood in my way. It's just that he felt I tended to take my schoolwork too seriously, that it would do me a world of good to go out with him and get rip-roaring drunk and fuck like a pair of insane alley cats the night before I had an important exam at eight in the morning.

During my last semester at Hamner, I was deeply embroiled in the throes of “The Final Project.” All seniors were required to prepare lengthy research papers with audiovisual aids and present them formally before the professors in their departments. I was a communications major, so I'd decided to do my project on CNN, its history, impact and the variety and diversity of the stories it covered. My research was so groundbreaking, so enlightening, and so intriguing that I barely remember any of it today, which is probably just as well.

I spent a lot of time at Duane and Darby's trailer while I worked on the project, so I wouldn't have to deal with distractions from the other girls in my dorm. There'd always be somebody vacuuming at three in the morning or groups of smokers nattering away on the porch right outside my window. At the trailer, at least in the daytime, I was alone and could work for hours undisturbed.

At night of course was a bit different. It was damned difficult to concentrate with two healthy young men in residence, playing the TV and stereo, (often at the same time) and sometimes had equally noisy friends over.

I was staying up till the wee hours, then getting up early to go to classes and then coming back to work some more. I was not what you'd call a bundle of fun to be around. I'm sure Duane was feeling a bit neglected, which is probably the cause of what happened the night before my presentation was due.

It was a warm spring night and I was in Duane's room at his desk finishing up the big chart I'd done showing the diversity of stories covered by CNN as compared to the ones done by CBS. Only right then there was not that much of a difference. This was during the 1999 military action in Bosnia, so most of the datelines were in the Balkans.

I had a big posterboard and divided it into columns labeled CNN and CBS. I'll spare you the boring details, but basically what I was doing was listing the dateline of every story covered by either network within a given time slot, writing them on slips of paper and sticking them in the appropriate spot with Poster Putty. I could hear the TV out in the living room while I worked. Duane was watching Professional Wrestling or “wrassling” as it he would put it. At least I assumed it was wrestling from all the grunts and thumps and bellowed curses, though it might've been about furniture movers or high school janitors. Darby was already in bed, presumably asleep. I'd heard the moans and sighs of his nightly jack-off session an hour ago. I was sure he made all the noise so I'd know exactly what he was doing and know he was fantasizing about me.

After while the TV cut off, I heard Duane start the shower. He'd be coming to bed soon and I was getting near to finishing with the stupid poster. I was concentrating hard on spelling all those Balkan names right, things like Zagreb and Srbrenica (can I buy a vowel please?). I was so absorbed that I forgot where I was, and so when Duane came in the bedroom from his shower, I jumped .He strolled in, naked and dripping wet. He and Darby didn’t' bother with towels much; they were always walking from the bathroom to their bedrooms without drying off. They couldn't imagine why the hall carpet was rotting. Normally I didn’t mind the nightly “Parade of Penises,” but not tonight.

Duane shut the bedroom door, a little louder than necessary so I'd be sure to take notice, then he laid down spread-legged on the bed. This was usually my cue that I would now be allowed to suck him off, but tonight I pretended not to get it. Duane cleared his throat, whistled tunelessly and tapped his fingers on the mattress.

"What?" I finally asked, wearily, having a pretty good idea what.

"How about you come over here and tend to some business?" Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding, Duane reached down and stroked his dick nice and slow until it got hard and juicy looking. I understood all right, and my nipples understood too as they came to attention. I know he could see them right through my white tank top, so I turned away quickly and leaned over my work again. He'd already seen plenty though.

Duane got off the bed and stood behind the chair reaching around to cup my perky breasts and rub the hard nipples, sending shivers all through me, culminating at my pussy. I made several attempts to ignore it as he tweaked at will.

"Bay-bee, I got what you need" he coaxed, nuzzling into my hair and biting the edge of my earlobe. He was still playing with my titties and I was getting more and more hot and bothered.

When I could speak I said, trying to make a joke of it, "Sorry, darlin', but just right now I got Ted Turner to take care of."

"You sassy thing" Duane said and kissed my ear hard enough to make it ring, something he knew I hated. I jerked away and dropped my pen, which rolled into the corner. "Damn it now Duane!" I swore and stood up, leaning over to retrieve it. It was when I was thus off balance that Duane made his move. With a speed and smoothness I wouldn't have believed possible, he grabbed hold of me and got back on the bed, dumping me half on top of him. I was pinned before I could react. I guess watching all that “wrassling” paid off.

I started to try and get up again, but Duane put a stop to that by taking my breasts in his hands and resuming fondling them. Only this time he was quite rough, squeezing the flesh firmly and pinching the nipples. I gasped, feeling confused sensations of pain and pleasure shoot from my tits directly to my crotch. Duane kept mauling my poor little tits, and I couldn't keep from moaning and arching my back up, thrusting my breasts higher for more manhandling. The slut in me had taken over my intellect.

Duane snickered a little "I bet old Ted never does that to you."

"NO, he sure doesn't, and I really didn't mean what I said a minute ago" I apologized. "I really am sorry about that."

Duane gave me a little shove. "Prove it," he ordered and let me up, but not before giving my nipples a final pinch so hard it brought tears to my eyes and set my pussy on fire.

I quickly stood up, casting a brief guilty glance at the desk. But the paper itself was already written and in its folder, and the rest of the chart I could finish in a few minutes tomorrow before I presented it. So I resolved to put it out of my mind and stripped out of my cutoff shorts and tank top. Duane always watched me intently whenever I undressed and tonight was no exception. I slipped the top off over my head, exposing my breasts, letting Duane see what he was feeling. His intense stare kept my nipples hard. I unsnapped the front of Daisy Dukes and slipped them off my hips. I could see Duane’s eyes light up as I reveal my freshly shaved pussy. I gave myself a quick feel to show him a little pink. Not that he needed encouragement.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed and I got down between his legs to get to work. I licked around the swollen head of my man's cock, imagining it was a cherry Popsicle, which is my favorite flavor, next to orange Dreamsicles, but nobody's dick is that color. I sucked back a small mouthful of sweet pre-cum and swallowed it. I then dipped down to lick his balls before I went back to sucking his cock. I love the feel and taste of cock gliding across my lips.

I was just getting going with long slow licks around the shaft and little teasing sucks at the tip when Duane suddenly wrapped his fingers in my long blonde hair and started thrusting into my mouth. I tried to keep sucking but it wasn't easy. Duane kept fucking my face while he held my head still. I've never been that good at deep-throating, but I made some fast improvements that night. It was a matter of self-preservation. Duane was ramming his cock into my mouth, making grunting sounds with each trust. I let out a few gag sounds at first, which only seemed to encourage Duane to fuck my mouth harder. Once I got his rhythm down, I sucked like a pro.

I was prepared to take a hard blast of come any second now, but Duane had other ideas. He suddenly released his grip on my hair and lay back on top of the covers with his cock still standing straight up and bright red. He then issued the terse command "Fuck me."

You couldn't make it much clearer than that. I clambered up so I was straddling him, guided his dick to my open damp pussy and came down hard, the way he liked it. Even when I was at my wettest, it was a tight fit. I wasn't as wet as I'd thought I was now, and I felt my pussy walls straining around this nine-inch monster pushed into it to the hilt.

Duane took my mind off the initial discomfort by focusing his attentions on my breasts, squeezing them as before and rolling and pinching my now-tender nipples. Inside of a minute, the pleasure/pain effect had me on the edge of a mammoth orgasm. I got off of Duane's cock in a hurry and lay beside him, because he always said the pussy spasms when I came made him shoot too soon.

When I hit the mattress next to him, he reached over and rubbed my clit till I came, and as soon as it subsided he rolled onto me and we were back in the swing of things again. The full body contact of our new position had me well on the road to another orgasm. We were both moaning and panting almost constantly by this point. I hoped Darby heard it, was kept awake by it and was very jealous of the fun I was having and he wasn't in on. Ever so often Duane would stop his wild pounding to reach up for my face, kissing me on the lips, his tongue darting in almost as deep as his dick had been earlier. Duane is one guy who doesn't mind kissing the same mouth his cock's been in. He'd bite and suck on my bottom lip, making it all swollen so everybody that saw it the next day would wonder what I'd been up to. I was just loving it and gave back as good as I got.

As I began to come, Duane increased his hip thrusts and I just held on, milking his cock with my pussy muscles and kissing his neck to make him come with me. A few seconds of that and we both went off, with him filling me to overflowing with hot cream.

Duane eased off of me and we lay side by side while our breathing returned to normal. My pussy ached pleasantly and come oozed warmly out of me onto the bedspread. Presently Duane put his arm around me and snuggled up close, arranging my body against his with my head resting on his chest. He never forgot the post-coital cuddle. We were asleep in minutes.

I woke up some time later with the little nagging voice of my conscience whispering in my ear. I guessed I really had been kind of a bitch to live with lately, a little snappish maybe, certainly very preoccupied. I'd watched too much news, always with a notepad and pencil in hand, and when I finally fell into bed I was too tired for anything more than a good-night kiss.

Duane was flat on his back, his breathing slow and regular. In a kind of apology/thank you, my hand trailed slowly down his six-pack to his cock, which hardened swiftly at my light touch. I stroked it long and slow, being gentle because I wondered if he might be as tender as my pussy was after the rough sex we'd had. I licked the shaft with long strokes for lubrication and savored the aroma of his manly flesh. I took my time and finally he came, spurting out wherever. I expected the bedspread would need to be washed soon. Duane woke up briefly right after he came. He half-sat up and mumbled blankly "What happened?" but fell back asleep before I could fill him in. That was the first really restful night's sleep I'd had in a long time.

The next day, I finished the datelines chart and was ready when it was time for me to present my project before the entire communications department faculty. It went off without a hitch and I was relieved to be done with it.

Afterward, my faculty advisor, Dr. Rich, called me into his office to tell me my grade. He gave me a “B” for the written paper and for the poster, and an”A” for the speech. He started telling me all the things about the paper he'd taken off points for and I wasn't really listening because the damn paper was done, I was about to graduate and would never have to do anything for him again.

Suddenly what he was saying got through to me. "As to the paper, I had to take off a point for neatness. Not the paper itself," he droned on "But this folder..." He indicated the teal-colored folder my paper was in. "It looks like you may have spilled glue on it, here in the bottom right corner? Perhaps while you were sticking those tags on the poster?"

Glue? I didn't use glue, I used Poster Putty... Wait a second! I snatched up the folder and examined it. Sure enough, in the corner, there was a small but definite stain. It did look like glue. But of course it wasn't. "Gee, Dr. Rich, you're right. I guess I did get a little careless with my glue. I think it was fair enough to take off for that." We talked a few more minutes, then shook hands and wished each other a great summer. I walked out of the Academic building toward my car think that indeed I had been careless. Let this be a lesson to all of you, when you are giving hand jobs in the dark. Cocks are not smart bombs. There may be some collateral damage.