				Student Stud VI
				 by Marmaduke

My husband enjoys letting me fuck my horny college students.
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and my steadiest
fuck, Alex, a great looking stud with a huge, perfect cock,
graduated and moved out of state. He has only been able to come back
once about every two weeks to take care of me. The last time we
spent a whole weekend in a hotel together, but that is the subject
of another tale. I still have a little "lap dog" named Jim, who I
allow to lap my pussy when I get in the mood, but his cock doesn't
get me off any better than my husbands, although they are both of
decent size. I have been spoiled by Alex's big tool, and its absence
made me crazy for about the first two months. I'll let Jim lap me
about twice a week, even though he begs me every day, and my husband
eats me the other days of the week that Alex isn't around. Both Jim
and my husband enjoy hearing about my adventures with Alex while
they go down on me. In fact, they usually masturbate and get off on
the floor while getting me off, but lately I have gotten so tired of
repeating every detail of my trysts with Alex that I have taken to
writing these archives and simply letting each of them read about
what I did over a weekend with my lover. As the reader of this you
may enj oy this kind adventure, so I am making these available to
you, too.

      It was once my policy to only recruit the most interesting and
sexy of my college students to satisfy my cravings, but the absence
of Alex has put this form of semi-abstinence in a new light for me.
I find my eyes wandering across the most unlikely pairs of blue
jeans in the hallways and classrooms of my fine institution of
higher learning. The other professors and administrators who ask me
out for lunches and informal dates think I am happily married and
have no interest in them. They are right on both counts, but they
have no idea of the happy hunting grounds my classrooms have become
for my constantly wet and burning desire to be fulfilled. The third
month following Alex's departure led me on an odyssey of sexual
discovery that has nearly been the ruination of my career, but one
which I wouldn't trade for the world.

      I knew I needed a cock like Alex's, attached to an athletic
body. I knew I loved lots of cum and lots of attention, and the
donor of both would be a young male who was crazy in lust with me,
and who I could count on to never say a word to anyone about my
"desires." I therefore embarked upon a kind of policy of "tryouts"
before I committed myself to another disappointment like Jim, whose
greatest attribute was that he stumbled in on Alex and me one day,
and whose silence has been procured by my continual allowance of his
kneeling fetishism. For the sake of clarity I ought to mention now
that there are a few things about Alex which bother me. Physically
he is perfect, and how this can be a drawback is a kind of irony,
because it is exactly that physical perfection which permits him to
get any girl he looks at. It is also the reason he can refuse to
entertain my desire to sleep with two men at once, and it is why he
does things like pinch my nipples and take control of my mouth.
These are all things I enjoy, and when he "takes control" of me it
is almost enough to bring me to orgasm right then and there. But I
am looking for a different kind of relationship in this new
adventure. I am looking for a guy that I don't have to worry about
leaving me, as Alex has, and one whose primary avocation should be
the pleasuring of my lower hole only, and only through incredible
and talented penetration.

      In short, my goal was to find a younger, less attractive,
fuck-addicted, discreet guy, who I still find cute, who still has
Alex's prowess in bed, and who will follow me to the end of the
earth if and when I choose to ask him.

      Usually these "tryouts", as I call them, occurred in a
secluded setting, say, a quiet after-class conference in either a
long-since-emptied classroom, or even behind the closed door of my
office. I preferred the former, but the latter proved an aphrodisiac
unmatched by anything heretofore, i.e., the quiet desperation of a
young man's orgasm in near silence was blissful, as detection from
passers-by was such a distinct possibility. You see, what I had
learned from young Jim, and later my own husband, was that I enjoyed
watching males masturbate. Not just any males, but the ones fitting
my well-considered profile. I had decided that I was tired of seeing
the less-than-adequate ones jerk off at my feet. If they were going
to do it they were going to do it right; where I could plainly see
it, and judge both equipment and enthusiasm for myself close up.
Usually,  the topic would change from sociology, the class I teach,
to academics in general, then to talk of a personal nature. Usually
a little repartee about a student's love-life from an attractive
female professor brought on a mixture of confused and hopeful
responses. The boys never knew if I was willing to help as a
therapist or provide the sexual relief they sought every time they
masturbated thinking about me back in the dormitory bathroom.
Gradually, I could get my interviewee to admit to some lack of
sexual satisfaction. If they didn't I simply went on to the next
candidate. The ideal candidate was one who not only was frustrated
with how fast things were going in the dating world, but one who was
masturbating frequently. When I could get one to do that I knew
chances were that if they weren't masturbating thinking about me
they soon would be. I had as many six boys talking with me about
masturbating during a single week, and that is how the game would
start to take on a life of its own. Soon, the more desperate among
them would start hanging around after class, often until everyone
was finally gone, as long as an hour and a half in some cases.
Others would schedule office hours with me so they could get me
alone that way. Eventually the conversations would come back to the
same things: sexual dissatisfaction and the desire to masturbate
incessantly.

That is when I would suggest there was something they could do to
"help" the situation if they promised to keep my suggestion
absolutely confidential. I told them "in so many words" that it was
a psychological fact that if they "shared" the experience with
someone close to them that it would relieve the tension and guilt
that tends to build up from the practice of masturbating too much.
After a little more talking about what "sharing" meant and who the
potential candidates in their lives might be, it was universally
true that they absolutely "knew" in their hearts that there was only
one person with enough understanding and interest in them to be a
good candidate without thinking that they were strange or perverted.

      It would usually start by me complimenting how I thought their
body was "probably very sexy with all the clothes off of it" and how
I would enjoy "participating" in their private pleasures. Usually I
could get them to entirely disrobe as I sat comfortably in my office
chair.

      I would say to them "now pretend I'm not even here, I want to
enjoy the complete act as you do it every day." I had a great time
watching all manners of masturbating techniques known to man, and
since to woman. These "tryouts" rendered some amazing performances.

      I had young men with little penises, large penises, boys who
could only masturbate standing up, sitting down, with a tube of
lubricant, with fingers up their posteriors, with tons of foreskin,
with none, with grunts, groans, long shots, shots only into Kleenex,
some who used only two fingers, some who used their off-dominant
hand, one who would spit on to his cock every twenty seconds with
astounding accuracy, ones who would apologize for coming, others who
would come on the desk right in front of me. And then there was
Justin.

      Justin had the right combination of everything for me. I knew
the first time I saw that cock. Justin was nineteen and had had just
one girlfriend who teased him for years and who he was in the
process of breaking up with. He didn't look like a film star but he
had a cute, shy way about him. He was about five feet eleven inches
tall and was tanned and slightly muscled without being really bulky.
He had light brown hair and blue eyes. When he first pulled out his
penis it was rock hard and as large as the largest I had seen. He
even had length over Alex. When he masturbated he would flex up his
whole body and vigorously flog his penis with his eyes shut tight.
His other hand would cup and stroke his balls. When he got close to
shooting he would all but stop his wrist from moving and thrust his
pelvis forward holding his hand in a vagina-like grip. Muscles
bulged out of his thighs and his stomach became completely lined as
he would shoot jets on my desk in front of me, and the very first
time, on my dress. That first day he apologized for hitting my dress
I knew he would be all mine. As a few of the boys managed, Justin
also kept his hard-on even after shooting so much cum that it took
eight Kleenexes to sop it up. I told him right then that if he could
keep a secret I would like to "help" him a little further. As he
nodded, I couldn't resist the temptation and lifted my dress to
reveal my pantiless state. As I slipped up on to the desk I asked if
he thought he could repeat his act with a "live target". I spread
wide and got my now dripping pussy to the edge of the desk, and inch
or two from his still throbbing cock. His eyes never moved from in
between my neat bikini lines as he took aim and began to stroke
again. It had only been about a minute from when he had deposited
his massive desktop-load. Within another minute his balls had
produced five more thick white jets of come covering my stomach,
thighs and clit. During his last few thrusts the head of his penis
had just grazed the outer parts of my open pussy lips at which point
I began to cream without a  hand on me. I wasn't in control of
myself as I moved my own right index  finger to my clit and began
sliding it back and forth between the already pulsating petal and my
open hole where I was depositing thick loads of Justin's cream. He
was smiling ear-to-ear as he asked is I had cum, too. I told him
that I thought it would help him if he knew how sexy I thought his
little show was, so I just "let it happen". I looked down at his
amazing cock and noticed that it was a good six-inches in its limp
state. He also had relatively little pubic hair and his scrotal sack
hung down almost as low as his penis, except it didn't sag, it was
simply that big. The head of his cock was slightly larger than the
rest of it and was separated by a nice circumcision scar which
created the friction ridge I love so much about Alex. He immediately
suggested, no begged, we meet that evening for dinner but instead I
made a date for the next day, Saturday, "to explore his frustrations
some more in an out-of-town hotel room. He was dancing on air as he
left my office.

      When I got home that afternoon my husband had come home early
from work to hear my latest story while he licked my cream. I was
still very horny as I spread my legs and laid back on the couch. I
had cleaned all the evidence off my body because I don't really go
for any of that "clean-up routine" he had asked me about before. In
fact, when he began to probe my hole with his tongue and asked me
"where the evidence was" I told him storytime was over, that he
could read about it on the net with everybody else.
