Final Exam
Next week was approaching fast and Matthew didn't have a credible plan to fend off Madeline. Although she was attractive, the wealthy widow was coming on too strong and he didn’t want to be forced to do anything.
Final exams were also around the corner and Matthew didn't have much time to deal with the many competing priorities in his life. So when Professor Hubbard messaged him about an extra tutoring session outside of normal office hours, he didn’t hesitate to accept.
Since the midterm, Matthew tried to catch his professor’s attention. In the classroom, he made sure to wear the right clothes and to sit in the right seat to best showcase what he had to offer. Outside of class, he would drop by office hours to flirt with his teacher.
“Which gym do you go to?”
“How often do you work out?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“You look good today.”
Matthew was both subtle and not so subtle. He showed his interest in math, and didn’t forget to show his interest in his teacher.
* * * * *
When Matthew showed up at his teacher’s office, he was handed a copy of a practice exam.
"You can start now while I go for a coffee break."
Although the original invitation was to provide additional tutoring, Professor Hubbard asked Matthew take the exam as if it was real. Depending on how the kid scored, Professor Hubbard would tutor him on his problem areas.
Matthew felt guilty about how he had passed the midterm. Since then, he had worked hard and even started completing his homework assignments. This time, he was determined to do his best.
An hour later … Matthew nervously handed in his work. However, based on his previous performance, his confidence level was low.
At first, Professor Hubbard was planning on being lenient with his student. However, as he graded the test, he was pleasantly surprised to find that some of the answers were actually correct!
When his teacher finally finished tallying the score and wrote a “C” at the top of the first page, Matthew was dumbfounded. He had actually passed the exam!
Professor Hubbard explained that the sample test that Matthew just completed was the actual final exam for the class, which meant that the college student was on track to pass his class.
"Congratulations! I guess you don't owe me anything."
"What are you talking about? I couldn't have done it without you. If you didn't tutor me … I would have already failed your class."
"Nevertheless, you passed on your own. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, Teach. That means a lot to me. But I didn't get a chance to return the favor from before. Part of the reason why I came today was to pay you back for your help during the midterm."
"Matthew, that is not necessary."
“Perhaps not to you, but to me it’s necessary ….”
Matthew felt indebted to his teacher, so he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, revealing his athletic upper body. Then he removed the rest of his clothes, except for his boxer briefs.
Startled, Professor Hubbard stared at his student’s impressive physique and swallowed. The kid was hot.
Matthew got on his knees and placed his hand on top of his teacher’s pants, where he felt the hard, throbbing organ underneath. It was not only large, but hefty. Then Matthew unbuttoned his teacher’s shirt and opened it. Slipping his hand inside, he felt the older man’s muscular chest.
"I'm gonna do something I've never done before ….”
Professor Hubbard: “...”
“You don't have to do anything. Just close your eyes, or watch if you want to …."
After the kid reached inside, Professor Hubbard felt a warm mouth engulf him. He watched as a set of red lips surrounded his shaft and began to slide up and down. It was his first time with another guy and it happened to be his own student.
"Tell me if I'm going too slow."
"You're ... doing ... good."
As it was his first time blowing another guy, Matthew wondered if he was doing it right. Fortunately, the college student had enough experience on the receiving end to know what he liked.
Like Gordon had done to him, Matthew engulfed the large shaft with incredible speed and precision. It was no longer a forward motion, but the slow pull-back-while-his-lips-held-onto-the-shaft motion that caused his teacher to writhe in his seat.
There were moments when Professor Hubbard's eyes were closed and his head tilted back. There were moments when his mouth parted and he looked down at what his student was doing to him. The kid wanted to please him in the worst way, and he wanted the same.
"Tell me when you're close. You can cum on my chest."
When Professor Hubbard reached the point of no return, he pulled out quickly and sprayed the teenager’s chest with his seed, some of it coating his neck.
After catching his breath, Professor Hubbard looked down at his student, who was dripping wet with sperm. Did Matthew really deserve this? What would his parents think if they knew what he, the teacher, had done to their son?
“That was a lot of cum,” added Matthew.
Matthew grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped the sperm off his neck and chest. Then he retrieved a fresh shirt from his gym bag and pulled it over his head, leaving as quickly as he came.
Professor Hubbard had broken the most sacred tenet in his profession, having sex with his own student. Although he felt a twinge of guilt, he couldn’t stop thinking about how good it felt. The kid was hot and his cock belonged inside of that mouth.
* * * * *
The voice on the other end of the phone was both deep and seductive, instantly capturing Gordon’s attention.
“Are you … naked?”
“Matthew, I know it’s you. What can I do for you?”
“Do I remind you of my father?”
“Your father was unusually good-looking. Other than that, I don’t think you resemble him.”
“You once told me he wasn’t a nice person.”
“He wasn’t. He was cruel and arrogant to others, but got away with it because of his looks.”
“Because of my looks … I also get away with things. For example, one time, when I was short on rent, I was given a discount.”
“That’s right! I remember that!” laughed Gordon.
“I heard my father was a player too.”
“Matthew, you’re not a player.”
“How do you know that? I think you’re just biased.”
“Perhaps I am,” admitted Gordon.
“You didn’t have a good impression of my father, yet you still had a crush on him.”
“I guess, back then, my hormones were stronger than my self-worth.”
“Do you still hate him?”
“Not really. Not anymore.”
“Good. I’m glad you moved on.”
* * * * *
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