The Grading Scheme

Copyright 2021. All characters are fictional. All characters are over 18. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental.

I have taught college, but when teaching, I never had my way with a student, even though one did make it clear that she was willing to do

anything

for an A.

Had I been less restrained, however, things might have gone differently. The characters are loosely based on the circumstances, but are not intended to represent real persons.

Thursday, Week 8 of the Spring Semester

There was a knock at my office door while I was grading mid-term exams from the past two days. The door was open out onto a covered walkway to catch the breeze, and so I could see the trees, hear the birds, and there was the smell of early blooming flowers in the air. Now, blocking my view was one of my students. Olena was a pretty but not breath-taking young woman, shoulder length curly dark hair and matching eyes, but fair skin, and today she was dressed in a translucent dark gauze blouse, yoga pants, and high heels. The blouse was black with a pattern, but with the light behind her, I could see right through it. She wore a sheer bra, and her areole were barely visible through the lace trimmed material. My first thought was she was on her way to a date. Her eyes were a little puffy though, as if she had been crying, but her make up was carefully applied and perfect. If she was on her way to a date, lucky fellow or lady. I went to great lengths to protect my reputation on campus, and part of that was staying out of students' personal lives, so I had no idea about her relationships outside class. She was a freshman taking a 300 level history class, and while I had discouraged her from signing up, she was determined to take it in the spring semester. She was doing abysmally. The course was writing intensive. I worked hard to develop the students as writers through the semester, but when she turned anything in, it seemed half-hearted at best. On the other hand, she had good attendance, always sat in the front row, and seemed to pay complete attention during class.

"Professor Ulenspiegel, I really need help with this class. I have to get an A to keep my scholarship!" she blurted out.

"Olena, have a seat, it is assistant professor, and you know it is Tyl." I said as she pulled the door closed behind her. "You are not getting an A. Even if you turn in a perfect score on the final and the term paper, we are in the C or C+ range. I can assign a little extra credit, and we might pull this up to a B. 3.0 is the requirement for most scholarships, isn't it?" I was a little uncomfortable alone with a female student and the door closed, but let it pass for the moment.

Olena turned a bright red. "Sir, uh.. Tyl, I am... I'm not... my other grades..." I could see tears forming.

"I can drop you, and write an exception so this isn't held against your-"

"Please don't! I mean, I need to keep a 15 credit load, and this was going to fill one of my writing intensive requirements. You know how complicated the university's graduation requirements are and I have to keep my scholarship."

I sighed heavily. "Okay, let's talk about your work so far. This is week eight of sixteen. Your mid-term paper was terrible. You didn't turn in an outline at all, and it showed in your paper. I hope you reviewed my comments carefully before you start on your term paper. Your mid-term exam, well, you sort of got the concepts, I think, but your writing needs a lot of work. This isn't high school creative writing; you are writing to take a position and show me that the reading made sense to you."

She was sniffing now, and a tear went down her cheek. "But Prof- Tyl, I tried!"

I placed a hand on her arm, "Olena, this is why I assign the outline, so we can work on the writing process as well as the history we cover."

Her face lit up, "But I love the history, I love listening to your lectures! And I just have to pass!" She looked me straight in the eye and said, "I'll do anything for an A."

I withdrew my hand from her arm, and sat back. I could smell her hair, and her nipples were now erect and showing through her blouse. I considered my options for a moment:

"but I won't"

,

"glad to hear you are going to be spending the weekends in the library until finals",

or

"great, let's give you some extra writing assignments"

. Then it struck me; this was my last semester teaching before I moved and took a think tank job on the far side of the country. She was of legal age.

"Okay, let's schedule some tutoring. Are you free Sunday evenings?"

Now it was her turn to hesitate. "Y-yes. I go to church on Sunday mornings, but anytime after 3 or so is good."

"Okay. I am available from 7 p.m. on Sunday through the rest of the semester. Meet me here then. Do not be late."

"Thanks, uh thank you, sir- uh Tyl." she stammered.

"Olena, You said you would do anything for an A, and you know I do not hand out grades for attendance. You will earn this A, but we can try to make it as enjoyable as possible." Her eyes lit up, and she blushed a little, and her nipples were still shamelessly erect. "Bring your books, notes, and whatever you write on. I will see you Sunday, but let me get back to grading these." Her face fell a little, and she looked a bit suspicious, but she nodded and left.

The Sunday before Week Nine of the Semester

I liked working at my office on Sundays. For the years I had been teaching, I was the only person in the department who came in on Sunday, and the building had a peaceful silence to it. An almost hollow sound as any creak or rattle echoed through the building. Our department wasn't popular, but was necessary for accreditation and for baroque reasons helped us get federal funding, and we went out of our way to fill a key writing intensive graduation requirement. Even with this, we were at the furthest corner of campus, and a third of our offices were empty. My office was at the end of the building, and the office next to mine hadn't been used since I got there, except for extra boxes of printer paper. That isotion had factored into my plan.

It was early March, and the sun was below the horizon. There was a tentative knock, even though my door was open, and the light cast shadows from the bushes past the walk way. I checked my watch, and looked up. Olena was a minute early, but that was fine. She was wearing a colorful but demure knee length skirt, a pale pink scoop neck top, and sneakers. Her breasts were beautiful, an honest B cup but unencumbered by a bra, and her nipples were perky, but not as erect as yesterday. She had only applied lip gloss and a touch of eye liner, as her thick black lashes and natural complexion didn't need help. Aside from having skipped wearing a bra, she looked like she had come straight from a church function.

"Prof- Tyl, don't you find campus a little spooky like this? Sort of deserted?"

"Good evening Olena. No, I rather like the quiet. Come on in, pull up a chair, or make yourself comfortable on the couch."

She waivered for a moment, then closed the door behind her, sat on the couch and laid out her books and notebook on the coffee table.

I came out from behind my desk, bringing a notepad and a mechanical pencil. As I sat next to her, there was the lightest pressure and warm from her thigh against mine through my khakis.

"Pull out your notes for your mid-term paper, and I want you to walk me through your process."

With starts and stops, and much backtracking, she talked through her process for gathering and organizing her thoughts. She placed her hand on my thigh as she talked, glancing at me shyly. I acted like I hadn't noticed her hand, but she kept glancing down and my crotch, and the bulge in my trousers. Her hand was completely still on my thigh, but it grew warm and damp through the fabric of my pants. I swelled as I helped her work out better ways to plan her writing. I was impressed though; she had listened to every single word I said in class, and even quoted me where I disagreed with the books.

After a while, she looked up at me.

"Um... Tyl? I thought... you know, that I would... do something different for my grade?"

"What were you thinking of?"

"Something, well, physical?"

"Could you be a bit clearer? I don't think I understand."

"I could, you know..." and her hand trembled as it moved up my thigh.

"Olena, do you want to do this?"

"Yes! I mean, I shouldn't. You're a professor and all. But I really need the grade. And you are..." she hesitated and looked down. "I signed up for the class so I could...." She was cupping my package as she spoke these last words.

Without another word, she pushed the coffee table away from the couch, and knelt in front of me. As she unzipped my trousers, it was my turn to shiver. She pulled my trousers and underwear down and put her mouth to my knob. With one hand, she began gently milking my shaft as she licked and sucked the head of my rod. Once she found her rhythm, she looked up and made eye contact with me as she pleasured me. Her other hand had pulled the hem of her skirt up over her thighs, and was under it, moving as she continued her ministrations on my manhood. I smiled as I looked in her eyes and she blushed, but didn't lose her tempo. The hand under her skirt was moving quicker, and she was shaking. I felt her moan as she closed her eyes. She gasped around my cock, and whimpered, but kept sucking and licking as she pulled on me. Olena turned away, rested her head on my thigh and moaned and shook as she climaxed.

She looked up at me again, "I want to, let me", she stuttered, still shaking from her orgasm. She started stroking me again, one hand on the shaft, and the other cupping my scrotum, as she used her mouth on me again.

"I'm sorry, my jaw is getting tired."

I gently pulled her up next to me, and kissed her. As my tongue slipped between her lips and touched the tip of her tongue, she continued to use her hand on me. I cupped one of her breasts through her shirt, and my thumb and forefinger lightly pinched her hard nipple. She shivered and moaned into my mouth, and I could feel my orgasm approaching. Her hand picked up speed, and then I came hard, spurting on her hand and skirt. She broke our kiss and leaned down and started licking up my spunk from my shaft and her hand as I sat back and tried to catch my breath.

"Well, Olena, I am confident you are going to pass. Let's see what else we can do to raise your grade."

She threw her leg over me and knelt above me, raising her skirt to accommodate me with a hungry look in her eyes.

"No, no. You sit down, young lady." And I knelt between her thighs. I slide her skirt up her thighs to reveal her pussy. Somewhere along the line, she had misplaced her panties, and there was a tiny wet spot on the inside of her skirt from her earlier pleasure. Her cunny was perfection; the pale pink mons and outer labia were smooth, and her inner labia peeped out just the slightest bit. Her thighs were deeply browned from the sun, and she had a distinct tan line. She was wet and glistening from her earlier climax as I began to kiss the insides of her thighs.

"Oh my God, Sweet Jesus," she whimpered. "No guy has... you know, kissed me there." I licked her pearl. "Don't stop!" Her hands were in my hair pulling me into her core. Her clit was already swollen, and she trembled and moaned when I caught it between my lips. As I nibbled on her clit, I made circles on her entrance with a fingertip. She was slippery, and I pushed my finger into her slowly. She was sobbing, but held my face against her mons, and I started massaging her clit from the inside while I kissed her tenderest place, my finger making circles on her g-spot. I was in no rush. I set up a slow, loving rhythm, holding her clit between my lips as I licked and sucked lightly on it. My fingertip stroked the rough cushion of her g-spot in and her tight little pussy flowed with honey. She began to gasp and stiffen up. Her orgasm surged through her, and her legs squeezed tight against my shoulders as her pussy squeezed my finger and her syrup covered my face and hand. She was gasping as I maintained my rhythm, and finally pleaded "No more, I can't take any more."

I withdrew my finger, and kissed her mons and thighs, avoiding her sensitive, swollen pussy. Sitting on the couch next to her, I held her tight while the aftershocks of her climaxes passed and stroked her hair. When she was breathing smoothly again, I kissed her forehead and whispered "Something to drink?" She could only nod.

I had a small refrigerator behind my desk, and got out some sparkling water, and from the bottom desk drawer, I got out glasses and a bottle of Irish whiskey. I filled one glass with the water and handed it to her, and poured a finger's depth of whiskey in mine, and added a splash before sitting next to her. "Well, Olena, you definitely pass, but I think a bit more tutoring will be needed."

Olena sipped her water, and smiled up at me. My cock was recovering, and she began playing with it again. "It's late. But we can plan on next Sunday for another session, and I will see you in class?" She nodded, sated but tired. I walked her to the door, and asked "Are you okay walking home alone?" She grabbed my collar, kissed me again, and said "Uh-huh. You're the best professor I have." before leaving for the night.

In Lecture, Week Nine

As I walked in, the class was almost full, and Olena was dead center of the room, wearing a short skirt, a loose opaque top, and sandals. I have to confess, I was relieved that she was being discreet. Some of the other students were chatting, or playing on their phones, but the moment I stepped through the door, I had her rapt attention. It was both flattering and a little unnerving. The map was already up on the projector, and I began. The first half of the class was lecture, and Olena couldn't take her eyes off me. It was heady, until at one point she caught my eye and discreetly tweaked her own nipple. I could feel myself blush, and lost my chain of thought for a moment. She smiled devilishly. A little later, her skirt had ridden up a bit, and I could see just a bit of pink lace covering her mound. Again, she gave me a wicked smile as I fought to maintain composure.

The second half of the class, I had discussion questions, and struggled to neither avoid nor single out Olena. When she did offer her thoughts, she clearly understood the context and consequences of the events, and did the reading. As the period drew to a close, I thanked the class for their attention and participation as I usually do, and they filed out in the usual friendly chaos. Olena winked at me as she turned towards the door.

That little- Well, not tease, as she had taken things to completion. That little minx was enjoying herself. Ruefully, I had to admit that despite the distraction, I was enjoying myself too.

Office hours, Week Nine

Office hours was the usual stream of students asking for clarification and for extensions to deadlines, until Olena popped her head in.

"We're still on for the tutoring session, sir?"

"Yes, of course. Same time and place if it works for you."

"I've been thinking about it since the last one", she said with a blush.

"So have I. Ready to work a little harder?" I said with a small smile.

She did a bit of a double take, as if she was unsure of what she thought I meant. The blush deepened and she nodded. "I can't wait, Tyl."

"Be sure to bring your notes, outline, and whatever drafts you have, and we can keep working on how to lay things out. For the final product, you know."

Again, she looked a little puzzled, trying to work out if I was talking about assignments or something else. Silently, she mouthed, "I want you." I smiled and winked. She nodded, "See you then," I said.

The Sunday before Week Ten of the Semester

Sunday afternoon, I enjoyed the solitude of my office. I left the door open, to listen to the wind in the trees and the birds. With the new job coming up after the end of the semester, I could enjoy teaching without the usual "publish or perish" pressures of academia. There were still lesson plans, papers and tests to grade, recommendations to write, and other routine minutiae to tend to. The sun was getting low over the horizon, so I made a phone call. As the sun went below the horizon, a young guy showed up with some bags that smelled heavenly.

A few minutes later, just before seven, I heard a shy knock on the door, and Olena was there. She looked lovely. She was wearing a flowing gauzy skirt and snug black tank top, and sandals. Tonight she had her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, and her earrings were strands of fine gold chain that dangled halfway down her neck.

"Come on in!"

"I saw the delivery guy leaving, that smells good, what is it?" she said as she closed the door.

"Well, Olena, I didn't know if you had eaten, and lord knows you can't study on an empty stomach, so..." gesturing to the bag. I set the bag on the coffee table, and started pulling containers out. I stepped over to the door and threw the deadbolt. "Do you like tsukune?"

She gave me a blank look. "I haven't heard of that before."

"They are a Japanese thing, the specialty of a little restaurant just off University Avenue. Chicken meatballs, with different sauces."

"Oh! I know the one! I've never been there though. The guys I've dated don't seem to want anything more interesting than burgers or Chinese food."

"Then you are in for a treat. Or two." We sat down with our hips touching, and started sharing a salad and the little chicken meatballs on skewers. While we ate, I looked over her outlines and drafts of her work.

"This is like night and day. I see a lot of improvement."

"Thank you! And my other professors noticed too!"

Her hand was on my thigh, and I was swelling under her fingers. She leaned in, closing her eyes with her lips parted. We kissed slowly, taking our time caressing each other. She started unbuttoning my shirt as I massaged her tit. She started kissing down the side of my neck, and my hand dropped to her thigh. As she kissed and licked my chest, I slipped my hand under her skirt and stroked the inside of her thigh. My cock was rock hard under her hand and she was rubbing it. I could feel the precum making a wet spot in my trousers. Olena was trembling as she tried to undo my belt, so I helped her with a smile. She was flushed and her eyes were bright as she moved between my knees and tried to work my pants and underwear off me. I pulled my shirt off before helping her, then kissed her before double checking that the door was locked. Now I helped her out of her top and skirt.

Naked, she is breathtaking. She keeps her mons completely smooth, and her breasts are beautifully formed. Her waist is narrow, and her hips full. I leaned forward and kissed one nipple then the other as I cupped her ass cheeks. I sat on the edge of the couch, and kept licking and kissing her lovely tits as I kneaded her ass. She knelt on the couch, her pussy just above my erection and ran her hands through my hair.

I leaned back, and looked up at her; "Are you sure you want this?" Olena nodded distantly, lost in the sensations.

"Olena, may I fuck you?"

"Yes," she whispered, "Fuck me, professor."

She lowered herself, and I reached between her thighs to guide the crown of my cock to her entrance. Her pussy was slick, but tight. She impaled herself on my cock until her clit was grinding against my pubic bone. I flexed my ass and thighs as I pulled her ass down on to my wood, and she gasped as I thrust into her. She snapped her hips back and forth on me, then started making circles with her hips.