I first noticed Tamar about two minutes into the semester. Late for class, she flounced into my lecture theatre, smiled an apology and took a seat, while I reminded myself that one of the true joys of academic life was the chance to have the full attention of girls like her.
She was eighteen - just - with long blonde hair, a bewitching smile on a face made to be wrapped around a cock, legs up to heaven, the tightest ass I'd ever seen, and cute, red-painted toenails on succulent feet. Yeah, I'm a foot man, so sue me.
Over the years I've learned two facts about incredibly gorgeous young things like Tamar. First , they inevitably know just how fucking hot they are and just how much most men will do to get into their panties. Second - and hallelujah - they see their university lecturers as a challenge. They can fuck pretty much any student they want, whenever they want, but to get a lecturer so hot that he'd put his career on the line to fuck them - now that is a worthy challenge.
I have never been immune to the game myself. I am under no illusions about my own attractiveness, of course. But if a hot little slut like Tamar is going to throw herself at me - well, I'm only human. I've enjoyed my share of student pussy over the years.
As the semester progressed, I watched and enjoyed Tamar's game of tease. Despite her youth, she was quite the expert, and seemed to instinctively recognise my foot fetish, so I was treated to a weekly parade of cute shoes, toenail polish and ankle bracelets, framed by ever-shortening skirts showing off those amazing legs, and brief tops putting her navel piercing and pert young tits on display. When my gaze settled on her and she caught my eye, she flashed me a delicious smile which said she knew exactly what I was looking at and why. The game was most definitely on.
For a while, though, I just enjoyed the view and did little more. She enjoyed putting on the show and I enjoyed watching, but she hadn't yet given any indication that she was doing anything more than just teasing. I'd seen her around campus a couple of times on the arm of a footballer, so it was most likely that he was the fuck and I was the tease. And hell, that was AOK by me.
All that changed though when the class assignments came in. Politics students had become notorious for cheating, and I had begun accepting assignments electronically and running them through Turnitin, a software program which scans the assignment and searches the web for identical wording. There were usually a couple of cheats each semester, and they earned a 'fail' and a solid talking-to. On this occasion, only student came up as a cheat. Wilson, Tamar.
At the end of the following lecture I left the graded papers along the front in alphabetical order and let the students grab their papers on the way out. Pretty soon, the only two left were Tamar and me.
She sauntered over, using her best sexy walk, perched on heels much too high for normal campus use, tits bouncing just so, liquid smile begging to be kissed. "Dr. Anderson, my paper doesn't seem to be in here."
I looked at her a little harshly. Not the infatuated lecturer she was expecting. "No, Tamar, there was a problem with your paper. I think you already know that. My office is room 315. Be there at three this afternoon." I watched with great satisfaction as a flicker of fear crossed her face, then I turned and left.
I enjoyed a leisurely lunch, savoring the anticipation more than the food. This little bitch was about to learn more from Dr. Anderson than she'd signed up for. By ten to three I was at my desk, pretending to be busy but actually rehearsing the afternoon in my mind. On a whim, I put my eye to the spyhole in my office door, and there she was, pacing the hallway outside, checking her watch every fifteen seconds or so.
She'd used the last few hours well. She'd changed into a ridiculously short sundress which put her ass and tits fully on display; she'd put on some sexy high heeled sandals which I happened to love, and she'd fixed her make-up perfectly. Clearly she expected to be able to fuck her way out of this one - and so she would, though not quite in the manner she was expecting.
At precisely three, she knocked on the door, a tremulous, half-afraid knock. Looking through the keyhole, I waited and did not answer. Thirty seconds passed, and she knocked once more. Again, I declined to answer. As she was turning to leave, having decided I was not in, I opened the door. "Come in, Miss Wilson," I said.
She turned, biting her lip, and followed me into the office. I locked the door and took a seat behind my desk. I had removed the other chairs, leaving her with no option but to stand. She looked, and no doubt felt, just like a schoolgirl appearing before the principal.
"On the desk, Tamar, are two pieces of paper. One is your assignment. The other is an opinion piece written for the Melbourne Argus late last year. Both papers have a section highlighted. Read them and see if you can see any similarities."
She was biting her lip now and trying not to cry, but even doing this she was a coquette in full control of her charms. She made a cursory display of looking at the papers but she knew what they'd show as well as I did.
"You realise, of course, that I have no option but to expel you."
Crunch time, or so she thought. She moved in close, put her hand on my shoulder, and half-whispered "I'm sorry, Doctor. Truly I am. I really don't want to get expelled ... Isn't there some other way we could work this out?" To leave me in no doubt as to her proposal, she slowly ran her fingertips from my shoulder up to my hairline, just behind my ear. Damn, I wanted to just turn and kiss her, but that would have spoiled everything.
"Did you really think you could get out of this just by offering to fuck me, Tamar? You're cute, but not that cute."
