Professor Jenins

I couldn't believe I put myself in this situation. Of course it was my own arrogance and stupidity, but in my 19 years I never had a problem that didn't work itself out on its own. Now here I was on the verge of losing my scholarship grant and telling my parents that I would need $25,000/year to stay in school and finish my degree. Not only would they be angry and disappointed, but they'd likely force me to come home and transfer to a state school or cut me off financially if I decided to stay.

I'd always been a good student, albeit a bit lazy when it comes to assignments that didn't hold my interest. In high school I mostly floated by on my intellect and charm, having learned early on that I could typically get through classes by exerting the bare minimum. Thanks to grade inflation and excellent standardized test scores I was able to earn a scholarship to a private university on the condition that I maintained a 3.5 GPA.

I couldn't wait to leave home and experience life on my own at college. I was a pretty popular kid at my small high school, but never had much success in the romance department. I'm a handsome guy, but never felt comfortable with my body enough to ask any girls out. Once I got to college, I told myself I would lose 10 lbs. and get toned up. The girls would be more mature and appreciate my hairy body, and even though my cock wasn't the longest it was still reasonably thick and I could pleasure them with my fingers and mouth.

Of course it hadn't gone quite as I planned. I partied every weekend and took advantage of my unlimited meal plan at the campus food court. By second semester of freshman year I had gained 12 lbs. and had been rejected by the three hottest girls in my dorm. I responded the only way I knew how: false confidence. My classes had been relatively easy in the first semester and so I started acting like the smartest guy on campus. I thought my academic prowess would attract some of the more serious girl students since I hadn't had success with the bimbos.

I assumed my classes in the second semester would be just as easy as the first, and for the most part, they were. I was still taking general education courses, most of which require a high school-level effort to earn an easy A, particular calculus. In high school I was a math whiz, having coasted through AP Calculus with ease. I was too lazy, however, to take the AP exam for college credit so I would be forced to take Calc 101 with the rest of the freshmen. It's a Monday/Wednesday/Friday course at 8:30am, but I knew I'd be able to ace all of the exams without even trying, so going to class would be unnecessary.

I missed the first Monday calculus class due to partying too hard over the weekend and sleeping in. I wasn't too worried as most classes tend to have students transferring in and out during the first week anyway and I wouldn't miss anything crucial. I attended the next class on Wednesday so I could receive the course syllabus, and that's when I first met Professor Jenkins.

"He's a dinosaur," I thought when I first saw him. Easily in his mid-70s, Professor Jenkins stood at the front of the classroom fiddling with some papers on his desk. When the students walked in he straightened up, almost as if he was surprised to see us entering the room. He was short, about 5'6" and trim, though his sloppily tucked-in shirt hid a slightly saggy belly that most men his age would have. His wrinkled face was clean-shaven, though I suspected any facial hair would be the same color white as the thinning hair atop his head.

"Hello Professor," I said as I approached him. "I missed the first class and was wondering if you had an extra copy of the syllabus."

"Certainly," he said with a wry smile as he handed me the paper.

At my desk, I looked over the syllabus as Professor Jenkins rambled on at the front of classroom. "Perfect," I thought. "Three exams and a final, no quizzes and all other assignments are submitted online." This would be an easy A and I wouldn't even have to attend class.

Or so I thought.

Now here I was staring at the online grade portal trying to figure out where I went wrong. An F? "35% - Attendance: 0"

There was an attendance requirement? It wasn't on the syllabus and I hadn't even been to class except to take the exams, all of which I had scored a 90% or above. This is totally unfair!

I angrily started typing an e-mail to Professor Jenkins, half-wondering if the old fuck even knew how to use a computer.

"Dear Professor Jenkins," I wrote. "It has come to my attention that there was an attendance portion of the grade in Calc 101 of which I was previously unaware. As you can see from my assignments and test scores I was an exemplary student in your class. Would I be able to see you in your office today to discuss my grade before they are submitted as final? My scholarship depends on it. Thank you. - Alex Cook"

After hitting send I nervously paced around my dorm room thinking about what might happen. Will I have to leave school? What will my parents do? Will this guy even read my e-mail in time? I decided if I didn't hear from him before 1:00pm then I would call the Math department and ask to speak to him directly.

That would be unnecessary, as no more than 20 minutes after I initially sent the e-mail I received a pop-up from Outlook: "Re: Calc 101."

"Mr. Cook, Now that final exams have concluded they have begun the planned summer renovation of the Math department offices. Would you like to meet me at my home on campus this afternoon at 4:00pm? I'd be happy to discuss the concerns you've outlined in your e-mail. My address is 376 Maple Lane. Please confirm as soon as you can. - Professor Jenkins"

Immediately I replied that would be fine and I would see him at 4:00pm.

As I walked to the professor's home I thought about what my strategy should be to convince this old guy to give me the A that I deserve. "I should be aggressive," I thought. "Not take 'No' for an answer. My test scores speak for themselves."

Professor Jenkins' home was a modest Colonial in the style of the rest of the neighborhood. He had a well-manicured lawn with a white stone walkway leading to the steps at the front door. I checked my phone which said "3:58" and rang the doorbell.

I didn't have to wait long for the door to open, where Professor Jenkins stood smiling. He wore a light blue button-down shirt tucked into baggy tan slacks, held up to his belly button by a pair of bright red suspenders. "Hello Mr. Cook!" he exclaimed as he extended his hand to shake mine. "Come in, come in."

We walked through the foyer and he led me into a room that was clearly his office. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked as he motioned for me to sit on the brown leather couch propped against the back wall. I looked at the large oak desk flanked by crowded bookshelves and suddenly felt intimidated by the situation. This is a man with an impressive career and I'm about to confront him.

"No, thank you," I replied. "You have a lovely home. This office is terrific. I wish my dorm room looked like this."

"Well thank you Mr. Cook," he said, sitting behind the antique desk. "I find it quite comfortable here. Now what can I do for you?"

"Um, well, sir," I stammered, suddenly losing my fragile façade of confidence, "I wanted to talk to you about my final grade. You see, I need to maintain a 3.5 GPA to keep my scholarship and was really caught off guard by the attendance policy in your class. As you can see, my exam and assignment scores were more than high enough to earn an A, but because I lost 35% of my grade to attendance the grade portal shows me as failing. I know final grades haven't been submitted yet and I wanted to ask you to adjust my grade up to where it belongs. I think I've earned it."

He looked at me and frowned as I finished my speech. "The attendance policy was made very clear during the first week of classes, Mr. Cook. I remember you asking me for a syllabus at the beginning of our second class. The policy was discussed at the start of each lecture in the first three classes. You were there."

"Fuck," I thought. "When did he say anything about attendance? I was only in a lecture for that one day and I didn't really think I needed to pay attention."

I felt nauseous. Tears were starting to well in my eyes as I pleaded with the old man. "Professor, I beg you. I can't fail. It was a mistake, truly. There must be something that can be done."

On the verge of sobbing, I held my head in my hands as I thought about my future, my failure. He slowly rose from his desk and walked over to the couch where I was sitting. He reached out his left hand and grabbed my wrist gently.

"I'm going to give you one opportunity to make this right," Professor Jenkins said as he moved my hand carefully. I raised my head to see him use his other hand to lower his zipper as he directed my hand towards it. "I think you know what to do," he said as my fingertips reached the opening in his slacks.

It was as if time had stopped. This was so outside the realm of possibility that I went into a mild shock. What did this old man want? A hand job?

I regained my focus as I looked up at him in horror. Smiling down at me, he said "this is a one-time offer and it expires in 30 seconds. Take it or leave it."

I quickly ran through the scenarios in my head and none of them were good. Who were they going to believe? A freshman nobody who never attended class or a well-respected professor with a sterling reputation and 40 years of tenure. I had no choice.

I didn't know what to think as I slid my hand into his trousers. I felt a mixture of fear and excitement combined with the sadness that my first time getting to third base with anyone would be with this old man. I reassured myself that it wasn't a big deal. I'd just have to tug on his soft pecker for a little bit and I'd walk out with my A and the scholarship intact.

As I made my first contact with his unimpressive bulge, he undid his button and slid out of his suspenders, allowing his slacks to fall to the ground at his feet. Barely protruding from his navy blue briefs was a little nub, which I started to lightly rub with my fingers. "Mmmm," he sighed. "I'm going to enjoy this."

I used both hands to grab the elastic waistband of his briefs and slid them down his to ankles where his trousers sat and got a first look at what I'd be working on. A short, stubby cut cock poking out of a bush of wispy white hair stared me directly in the face. It couldn't have been more than an inch long. "This will be easier than I thought," I said to myself. "I'll just rub it back and forth with my fingertips until he's satisfied. It's not big enough to even use my whole hand. I bet this old fucker can't even shoot a load."

As I played with his little cock it showed signs of life. Every now and again it would twitch and grow slightly as I rubbed my fingers back and forth. The old man seemed satisfied, periodically sighing and lightly moaning. After roughly five minutes I noticed a dribble of precum emerge from the head of his cock.

Professor Jenkins cleared his throat. "Well done, Mr. Cook," he said. "You're no longer failing. You've sufficiently earned a C in my course."

"A C?!" I cried. "A C does me no good Professor! I planned for an A in this course. It's the only way I can maintain my GPA. You're telling me I just jerked you off for no good reason?"

His satisfied smile turned downward. "I'll tell you what boy. Let's make another deal. You didn't contribute to classroom discussion for an entire semester and now you come to my house and run your big mouth about what you deserve, what's fair. I liked you better when I didn't hear from you at all. So wrap your lips around my cock right now and keep it there, or you'll take your C and get out of here. If that drop of precum hits the floor I rescind my offer."

Oh no. My head was spinning. I couldn't do this. This was too much. I peered up at Professor Jenkins who flashed a toothy grin and said "Well?"

I could see the precum glistening on the tip of his cock. He grabbed the base of his little dick and wiggled it, as the slimy droplet began to change shape and separate itself from the slit of his cock. I panicked and plunged my head forward, extending my tongue to the underside of his cockhead to ensure that the liquid didn't fall.

"Oh yes!" he moaned as his cock laid on the flat of tongue and my lips closed around his organ. He leaned his whole body into me as a wave of sensations flooded over me. My nose was buried in his white forest of hair, smelling mostly of a mild soap. The salty and sweet flavor that hit my tongue initially was replaced by the taste of clean flesh as the old professor grabbed the back of my head and thrust his hips back and forth, sliding his cock around in my mouth as I tried to figure out how to breathe. I could feel his cock growing inside my mouth as it ran over my tongue repeatedly, getting harder than I thought was possible for such an old man. As Professor Jenkins feverishly fucked my mouth his cock reached its full potential. 4 inches of hard dick sticking straight from his wrinkled flesh and soft white pubes.

I don't know how long the oral assault lasted, but eventually he pulled his cock from my mouth and allowed me to catch my breath. Removing his shoes and pulling his pants completely off, he maneuvered around me and sat down on the couch next to me. "On your knees, Mr. Cook," he said. "Continue."

I swiveled around onto my knees in front of him. His still-hard cock was pointing straight up at me in an almost taunting manner. As I lowered my head to suck him once more he said "Well done on earning your B. You've got a great mouth."

"What the fuck?!" I screamed. "A B?! That was not the fucking deal! You said I'd get my A!"

"I said no such thing," he replied with a measured but annoyed tone. "You never asked to clarify the terms of our last deal. I made it clear that to not get a C you'd need to suck my cock, but I never said anything about an A."

I fell to the floor, exasperated. "Is that it, then?" I asked. "Is a B the best I can hope for?" I thought perhaps with a B I could negotiate with the administration to keep my scholarship. They were notoriously unforgiving and I was clearly not the best negotiator, but maybe I had a shot.

"Son," the old professor said quietly. "You came to my class one time during an entire semester. Sure, you aced the exams and assignments, but by neglecting the participation portion of our class you showed what little respect you have for your university, your fellow classmates, and me. I'm going to give you a chance to earn that A. But to do so, you're going to have to show me the ultimate respect."

I looked up, trembling and broken.

"You're going to stick your tongue in my ass," he said as leaned back into the sofa and raised his legs slowly.

There in front of me was Professor Jenkins' asshole. Mildly pink with small tufts of hair surrounding it, I felt like my life was over. The old man was glaring down at me with hungry eyes. I recoiled in disgust, but was quickly interrupted by the professor.

"This is the only way," he said, as he grabbed my hair from behind the ears.

With my head in his hands, he gently but forcefully guided my face into him. My mouth was on Professor Jenkins' asshole.

The professor was much more active when I was sucking his cock, so I really didn't have to think about what to do. Now, however, I was expected to work and I didn't know where to begin. I thought about all of the times I dreamed about going down on a girl, so with my face in his ass I decided to press my tongue widely around his hole and started licking.

"Oh yeah baby," he groaned. "Eat my ass."

His crack tasted fleshy and clean, not unlike his cock had minutes earlier. I continued to lick around his hole when I felt more pressure on the back of my head. "Stick...your...tongue...up...my...hole," he hissed as he pushed my face deeper into him.

I did what he asked. I narrowed my tongue and probed directly into the old man's asshole. I could hear muffled groaning from above as my ears were surrounded by his pale, wrinkled thighs. "Deeper!" he wailed. "Lick my ass like you mean it sonny!"

We stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity. I just wanted this ordeal to end. I knew that I'd forever be stuck with the memory of rimming a 75-year old man as my first sexual experience.

Eventually I felt Professor Jenkins' grasp on my hair ease as he slowly lowered his legs and allowed my face out of his groin. He shuffled his left leg around me and stood up, grabbing my shoulders in the process. "Turn around and sit on your butt," he said as he twisted me around, propping me up against the foot of the couch.

I looked up and saw his angry cock pointed straight at me. "Open your mouth, boy," he said. "And stick out that tongue."

This was it, I thought. The final humiliation.

I didn't have much time to think it over before I felt the first hot glob of cum land right on my tongue. The professor howled in ecstasy as he blasted four or five more spurts all over my lips, nose and cheeks. It was a fairly large load, bigger than I could have imagined coming from such a small-cocked old man. Most of it landed in my mouth, and before I had to chance to object he pushed my chin up and said "Swallow."

I obeyed his final command and rose to my feet. For the first time I noticed my own dick was hard, and by the dampness I felt in my shorts, I had cum at some point.

Professor Jenkins handed me a washcloth to wipe the remnants of his load off of my face while escorting me to the door. With one hand on the doorknob and one on my back he concluded our meeting.

"An A for you, Mr. Cook," he said. "It was a pleasure having you in my class this semester. Please consider registering for my Linear Algebra course in the fall. I think you'd quite enjoy it."