textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/safesex2.txt

Archive-name: School/safesex2.txt
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Archive-title: Safesex - 2

 
She looked much the same as she did in class, wearing nice jeans and a
conservative print blouse. She was wearing sandals instead of her usual
loafers, and no more makeup than usual, which is to say, none that I would
notice, although some girls really know how to use makeup so that you
don't even know it's there. Her long medium-brown hair was held in the
back as usual by a clip. She wore no jewelry except for a small right-hand
ring. The only thing I noticed out of the ordinary, almost obscured by
the books that she held to her chest like a schoolgirl, was that
the top two buttons of her blouse were undone. I couldn't remember
if that was Amy's usual style.  I decided I was going to have to
sneak a peek down there sometime during the evening.
 
"Hi", she said, and I thought her voice cracked a little. She cleared her
throat and said, "I hope I'm not, you know, too early. I made better, um, 
time than I expected." Her face was expressionless. So was her voice, even 
moreso than usual. "No problem", I replied, "come on in and put your books on
the table over there. Would you like something to drink, pop or some juice?"
"Sure, a Cokersumthin." I went to the kitchen and retrieved a can from the
fridge.
 
When I came into the dining room, she was standing by one of chairs at
the table. "Nice place," she offered. I moved next to her, preparing to
move around her, and said, "go ahead and sit down, let's get started."
As I motioned toward the chair my hand grazed her back. Gee whiz, here
I was trying to maintain my cool, and right away I did something that
could be misconstrued. I pulled my hand back but did not comment. This
small faux pas, and the fact that she hadn't flinched, perversely gave
me a brief bit of courage, and I considered what kind of leading remarks
I could make, ones that would seem innocent unless she already had ideas,
but would still require her to make the first real move. Something like
"what hard things would you like to work on first?" No, too obvious. "I'm
glad you're here." "What do you need?" "What can I do for you?" No, I was
afraid those would seem too personal or suggestive if she was here with
pure intentions. I was unable to realize that if her intentions were indeed
pure, that she would think nothing of such innocuous remarks. Paralyzed with
paranoia, my courage evaporated and I wound up saying nothing as I sat down
at her right.
 
I thought I detected a scent, some sort of light cologne. Nice, and not
too much. Maybe she wore it for me, or maybe she wears some all the time,
though I couldn't recall smelling it in my office. Can't throw a woman in 
jail for wearing perfume when she studies.
 
I opened her book to the chapter we had been covering in class, and
began going over the material with her. As usual, she seemed to be
only going through the motions of studying. After a bit, I gave her a
problem to work, and I turned my gaze toward her neck, peering as far
down the front of her blouse as I could and still be undiscovered. The
light wasn't really coming in at the proper angle for me to see very
far, and I was able to glimpse only just above the top of her cleavage.
No sign of a bra, although it was possible that I just couldn't see far
enough. I was intrigued.
 
I quickly looked back at her face; she was asking me if she was doing the
sample problem correctly. Good thing she wasn't much for eye contact, or I'd
be caught looking down her shirt. I gave her a little redirection in her
work, and she resumed scribbling. I noticed that as she worked, the fingers
of her left hand were idly playing with one of the lower buttons on her
blouse. It was going to be a real challenge keeping my hands to myself.
 
"Here, would you like some M&M's? I just bought them from a girl for
her school's fundraiser." She smiled, for the first time that day I think,
said "thanks", and took the package from my hand. "You shouldn't take candy
from strangers, you know, but in this case I think it's OK," I ventured.
This was a little more provocative than I had planned to say, but it seemed
sort of all right. "I can trust you?" she said, and I wasn't sure whether it
was a statement or a question. She looked at me for a moment, then turned 
back to her problem, as I said "I'm safe."
 
I feigned moving something on the floor with my shoe, to get a chance to look
again at her feet. I was not surprised that they were as nice looking as her
hands, with no nail polish, just clean and natural. I worried that she'd think
I was a weirdo if I spent too long looking down there, so I returned my
attention to the pages of the book. I wasn't sure if she consciously realized
what I had been looking at, but she chose that moment to slip her left foot
out of its sandal, and tucked that ankle under her right thigh, in a
semi-Indian fashion, the sole of her foot facing me. I guess I am a weirdo,
because I found that it stimulated me a surprising amount.
 
I got up, and brought a floor lamp over next to the dining table, trying
to guess what the proper angle was to get a maximum view down her blouse
next chance I got. "There, that's better, isn't it?" I said.
 
She was still getting the exercise answers wrong, and sighed, "I don't think
I'll ever get this." "Sure you will", I fibbed as I sat back down, "you're
getting better." "I don't know what I'll do if I can't stay in the pre-med
program. My parents will kill me," she went on, looking at me steadily for
once. I asked her how she picked pre-med, and she said that both her parents
were in the medical profession and that it was just expected. You have to
feel sorry for anyone in that situation. If she fails, the weight of the
world is on her shoulders, and even if she succeeds it's only what everyone
expected her to do. "Come on, you can do it, let's try these problems here",
I encouraged her, and I fought the urge to pat her on the thigh for emphasis.
 
Amy looked at me, then down again at her papers, and asked, "I really
need a B.  Isn't, um, there something I could do for extra credit?"
Her voice cracked ever so slightly again as she spoke. I sneaked a
quick look down her blouse, but really didn't see much more than
before. Well, here we go again. Was she, or wasn't she trying to start
something? Surely she was. My curiosity was getting the better of me,
yet I had to be sure before committing myself to saying something overt. I
considered a thousand different things to say, without finding the magic
combination of words that would be safe and still tell me what I wanted to
know. I finally told her, "well, the course covers the fundamentals of basic 
algebra, so there really isn't anything you can skip and make up for with 
other material." Not very sexy, I know, but I couldn't afford to make a 
mistake. "Oh. I see." Her voice had a flat tone of dejection in it. After a 
moment, she tried again. "What about if I came over and graded some papers 
for you?" I struggled with my emotions. I wanted to hear her to offer a 
somewhat more personal favor than grading some boring papers. But if the 
offer was not to be freely given, the ramifications would be serious. "Uh, 
no, outside work like grading papers can't have any bearing on the grade a 
student gets. It wouldn't be fair". As though what was going through my mind 
was fair. "What can I do?" she asked, more to herself than to me. A tear 
worked its way out of the corner of her eye, and began a journey down her 
cheek.  "Keep trying, you'll get it," was all I could muster. I hoped this 
was not some sort of scam she was pulling; could that tear be genuine? It
was awfully well timed.
 
She wiped the tear from her cheek, and said, "I'm sorry. Um, could I use
your bathroom?" "Sure, down that hall, first door on the right," I said,
glad I had taken the trouble to give it a second cleaning. She slipped her
sandal back on and got up, and I watched as she walked out of the dining
room. Her blouse was not the clingy kind, so it was hard to be sure, but it 
seemed that maybe her breasts were moving more freely than they would if she 
were wearing a bra. Or was that my imagination seeing what it wanted to see? 
I hadn't been able to tell for sure when I'd seen her walk before, because
of the way she'd been holding her books.  Well, I'd be sure to get a better
look now, when she came back.
 
When the bathroom door closed, I got up and moved the floor lamp a few
inches and turned it a few degrees, trying to have it be in just the right 
spot to shine down on her chest when she sat down again. I heard the toilet 
flush and the sink being used, and the sound of her blowing her nose. It 
occurred to me that maybe she was having her period, but I looked and saw 
that she had left her purse on the table, so that probably wasn't the case. 
I'm not too hung up about menstrual blood, but it is one of those things
you don't usually think about when you size up a girl as a bed partner, 
even though it's part of every girl's life. After another minute, I heard
the bathroom door open and she returned.
 
I noticed immediately that the third button of her blouse was now undone.
Yes, as she walked you could see from the way her blouse moved that there
was nothing constraining her small breasts underneath. So. It was certain
now that she wanted to earn her grade in exactly the way I had suspected.
Why couldn't she be more straightforward about it? Maybe nothing more
complicated than nerves. I just said "everything all right?" but knew that
I no longer had to be ultra careful with what I chose to say. I could say
something now, or wait and she'd say something soon that would confirm her
intentions, and I'd figure out how to tell her no. I'd give her that wise
yet caring advice, you know, something like out of Father Knows Best.
 
Amy sat down, looked at me and nodded. Her face was a little paler than 
before. Nerves, I assumed. I wondered if I looked pale too, since I was 
feeling a touch of nervousness myself. I wanted to prolong the suspense,
so I decided to ignore her signals a little longer, and said to her, "ok, 
let's try again," and gave her another problem to work. She looked like 
she was unsure what she wanted to do, and started to say something, but 
picked up her pencil and began to work. As she leaned forward I once more 
gazed down her blouse. The view was much clearer now. Her breasts were 
indeed smallish, perhaps a B-cup, but she made up in quality whatever might 
be lacking in quantity. I could see practically down to her nipples.

As she wrote, she rested her left arm on the table, and after a few moments 
she did a most extraordinary thing. She casually hooked her free thumb 
loosely over the fourth button of her blouse, the topmost one that was still 
buttoned. After a few more seconds, and with the same studied casualness, she 
then leaned back just slightly, so that her thumb stretched the blouse fairly 
tight. I watched avidly. She was giving me a clear view of her breasts. With 
the lamp repositioned now, in fact, I couldn't have seen more if she had 
chosen to take her top entirely off. Her breasts were completely free from 
the fabric of the blouse, supported only by their own adequate muscle 
structure. I kept silent, afraid to say anything that might break the spell 
and cause her to cover up again. I studied her nipples. They were generally 
in proportion to her breasts, although possibly a little smaller than average, 
and they were a nice medium brown, with a clear definition of where they 
started and where they stopped. She would turn heads in a crowd if she were 
to wear a see-through blouse. I looked at her face. She was trying hard to 
look like she was focused on her work.

I wondered if she could possibly think I wasn't sizing her up. No way. Her 
purpose was clear. I could make whatever move I wanted.
 
My breathing was noticeable now, at least to me. I hoped she didn't notice,
because I wanted to appear in complete control of myself. The view
of her breasts was even more exciting to me than I had expected, and I was
no longer sure I wanted to tell her no. I decided to correct a mistake she
was making in her math, and to get her attention I lightly touched her right
hand. "I can show you the right technique," I said, and as I took the pencil
from her I made sure to touch her hand just an instant too long. It felt
good to touch her soft skin, and I wanted more. She looked up at me, and I 
smiled at her to try to make her feel at ease. She dropped her gaze back 
down. I saw her sneak a quick glance down her blouse, and she took her thumb
out and straightened slightly to let the blouse resume its normal shape.
She tried to do it casually, but her cheeks flushed just a bit to give her
away. I guessed that she had miscalculated just how exposed she had been. 
She wanted to have me see her attributes, yes, but not really flaunt them. 
Well, she had flaunted them. I wondered what she would do next if I didn't 
make some sort of move.

I showed her the way to get the right answer to the problem, and
gave her another to work on. She picked up her pencil, looked like she
was going to try again, then put it down and looked at me. "What can
I do to get a B in your class?" she asked. "We've been through this
already. What do you have in mind?" I responded. I thought we were
finally getting to the heart of the matter.
 
She looked back down, and said quietly, "whatever it takes." She put her
palms on the chair beside her upper legs, forcing her knees together, and
held her arms stiff. Her blouse, its sides being pushed together by her
upper arms, billowed a bit and exposed her upper chest, although I couldn't
see as far down as before. "Do you have something in mind?" I repeated.
"I dunno," she mumbled. I waited, probably for only 15 seconds, but it
seemed like longer. She said nothing more. Undoubtedly she felt that she
had laid her cards on the table, and it was up to me to accept or reject
her offer. But there was no actual offer to discuss yet, and even though
her intentions were very clear, her implied offer was not nearly acceptable.
It would still require some care to get her to admit what she was here
for. Apparently the next move was mine. I swallowed, and began.
 
"Listen, let me, uh, ask you something. I hope I'm not jumping to any
conclusions here, and I apologize in advance if I am. But your actions 
tonight have been very, uh, unclear. Someone watching you tonight might, 
you know, get the idea you are trying to interest me in a deal, where I 
give you a B in the course, in exchange for some, uh, personal favors tonight. 
Sex, that is." No answer. "Is that what you are trying to propose?" Even 
though I was sure I had made all the correct inferences, I still felt a 
thrill as I asked her, for this was the moment of truth. No other moment 
would be as risky, after this.
 
After an interminable wait of maybe five seconds, her lips parted and she
said, "I guess so." I could barely make out her words, she spoke them so
softly and indistinctly. 

She could not look at me, at odds with herself, obviously pulled in too many 
directions for her to take any decisive action. She was clearly not happy that 
this moment had arrived, yet it was also clear that she had decided for herself
that this was the only way open to her. I wanted to prolong this.

This was not how I had envisioned it going. The few times I've had girls
come on to me, it was always with this big ego thing on their part, like
they knew they could make me do what they wanted just by tempting me.
Like with Caryn; she had been pretty cool toward me the first semester
I met her, until suddenly she warmed up and got me to ask her out.
I figured Amy would be that way too. Instead, it was almost like she 
figured I'd turn her down. Like, for once I really and truly had the 
upper hand in this.
 
"Well." I reached my arm behind her, putting my hand on her far shoulder,
lightly rubbing the area near her spine with my thumb. I paused a few
more seconds. "This comes as a surprise." Not exactly a truthful statement,
but what the hell. "Are you a virgin?" I had to know. She gave half a
shake of her head to mean no. "You certainly are a nice woman, and very
attractive. But there are a couple of things the matter with what you
propose." Technically, what I had proposed. All she had done was show me
her tits, but let's not quibble. I watched as she looked up at me. As
expected, she had a slightly perplexed look on her face, which was quickly
replaced by a more numb look as she concluded that she was being turned down.
"I think I'd better leave," she said, starting to get up. I didn't want her
to leave; the constant erection I'd had for the last forty-five minutes felt
good, and I didn't want it to stop. "No, uh, wait, listen to what I have to 
say." She sat back down and looked again at her knees.
 
I continued to lightly stroke her back. Even through her blouse, it felt very
good to me. "First, it wouldn't be, uh, fair to the other students in the
class.  They are all working to earn their grade, and it isn't fair to let
someone get the same grade without, you know, working for it." She replied,
"but I have been working, so hard." This was the first sign of any inclination
to assert herself, but I cut her off with a gesture of my hand.  "Second,
you seem to have somewhat overestimated the value of your services. If
I were selling a passing grade for cash, which by the way I am not, how
much do you think I would charge?" "I dunno", she said dully. A real
Shakespeare, this girl.
 
I labored to keep my tone even; I tried to avoid the "ums" and "you knows"
that would give away my own nervousness. A definite plan was forming in my 
mind. "A minimum of $2000. There are a lot of risks involved in such an deal,
and anyone would be foolish to take that risk unless there was a lot to
be gained. On the other hand, I could go downtown tonight and find a girl
to sleep with me for $50." For that price, I'd probably get myself a good
case of the clap, but now was not the time for a lesson in either
microeconomics or medicine. "Now, tell me, what do you think you could
do for me in bed tonight that would be worth $2000?" Amy was silent,
humiliated. "Right," I said, taunting her slightly. "I want to go now,"
she repeated.

I realized we had reached a crisis point. An unstable equilibrium. I wanted
to keep the level of excitement exactly where it was right there, but that
wasn't going to be possible. She was ready to walk out. I could either let 
things simmer down and let her go, or go through with what she and I had
both been hinting at. I reached my decision. For once, I said to myself, I 
wasn't going to be wishy-washy.
 
"Now," I pressed on, turning my chair slightly to face her, and removing
my hand from her back and placing it on her knee instead, "if you were
serious about all this, here is what you would be proposing. You would
offer to come to my apartment every week; today's Thursday, let's say
every Thursday night." She looked up, startled by my sudden nuance, though
she continued to look straight ahead and not at me. In a way, I was as
startled as she was by what I was saying. I didn't know what her reaction
would be to this, but I told myself that I could pass it off as just
hypothetical if she objected. Another adrenalin surge in my system made 
it difficult, but I continued to maintain a slow, gentle and rather formal 
tone to my voice. 

"While you were here, you would submit to anything I asked of you. Do you 
know what I mean by submit?" She nodded. I decided to be specific anyway. 
"It means that you would do whatever I say, without question, without 
dissent, and without hesitation. I would not cause actual physical injury, 
but aside from that you would have no right to refuse whatever I asked. If 
you did refuse a single demand, the deal would be cancelled. Understood?" 
Amy nodded again. This was going better than I had imagined. I had to be 
careful not to spoil things by going too fast, but it looked like Amy had 
real potential as a slave. I wished I knew what exactly to do with one. I 
waited for Amy's reaction.  She still didn't look up, but said "OK", and 
again started to get up.
 
"Wait a minute," I interrupted, my hand touching her on the thigh to
indicate she should sit back down. "I'm just saying what kind of a deal
you should be proposing. I didn't say that I would accept." The oldest
negotiating trick in the book: make them think they've agreed to a deal,
then hold up. "Now, there's not many weeks left in the quarter. I'm not
sure that you could do enough to earn your grade. So part of the deal
would have to be that I might invite one or two friends over to visit
on Thursday nights. You would be required to submit to them just the
same as you submit to me. I can't tell you in advance what those demands
would be, because I frankly don't know what they might want. If you
refuse their demands, the deal would be over. Do you follow me?" Amy
looked down and swallowed hard but said nothing. After all my hours
of indecision, I was amazed at how smoothly I was coming up with these
details, and in fact how smooth my voice was. It was like I was
delivering a lecture to a class. Most of the ideas I described
were ones I had briefly thought about during the day, but they had
not been fleshed out until the moment I spoke. I decided I was
comfortable with what I was saying, and greatly hoped that Amy would
be too. Of course, if she bridled at this point, I could still say I was
just speaking hypothetically, trying to explain to her why all this
was wrong.
 
"There are six weeks remaining in the quarter, counting tonight, plus one
week to turn in grades. If you were to perform your end of this deal, then
my part of the deal would be to give you the grade you need in this class."
Amy still said nothing, her hands wedged under her thighs, her eyes
focused on her knees.  "Now, you may think this is a good deal, since
you know what you'd be getting out of it, a good grade. But I have no
idea of the quality of what I'd be getting in return." That was a lie.
I'd seen her titties. I paused a few moments to let her think about what
I'd said, as well as to decide whether I really wanted to say what I was 
about to say. "I want to see what you've got to offer." I reached over and
swiveled her chair to face mine directly. Again, I paused to see what she
might say in response to all this. She continued to study her knees, bracing
herself with her arms against the sides of the chair, and said nothing.
 
My heart pounding, I said, "if this is what you want, take off your
blouse now, please." I thought saying please was a nice touch, though
it sounded odd in the context of everything else I had said. I realized
that this was a big step: if she complied, I could no longer maintain the
fiction that I was speaking hypothetically. After a second's hesitation, she
unbuttoned the fourth button, then the fifth, finally the sixth, and opened
the blouse to let me view. My peek down her blouse had not misled me, and
the view I was now witnessing was truly inspiring. Her breasts, though
somewhat small, were perfectly symmetrical and perfectly supported. Her
smooth nipples were an even, deep, bronze all over, with no variation
in color, and no moles or veins or hairs or other imperfections. Simply
perfect.  I spread my legs slightly, reached forward and did the same
to hers, and moved so our chairs were touching. I slid the blouse down
her arms, took it from her waist and placed it on the table, then reached
forward and placed my fingers on her back, my palms on her ribs and my
thumbs on her nipples.
 
As I rubbed the tips of her breasts, I resumed my monologue. Her nipples
stiffened slightly, though maybe not as much as other women I've known.
"There are a few more details to be worked out before we agree to a deal.
You will continue to attend classes and take the exams. This is partly to
keep from arousing suspicion, but also is for your own protection. That way,
you are free to cancel the deal at any time, and I will grade you fairly if 
you do. So you should try to keep up with the classwork, and if you feel you
can get your grade legitimately, you can still do that. You can view your 
deal with me as insurance." She sat quietly as I rolled her nipples.
 
"Naturally, you will not tell anyone of our arrangement, and you will
act natural when around me in class or afterwards." I had already
figured out how to further insure her discretion. "You will come here
every week without fail. If your bike breaks down, you will have to
figure out a way to get here. If it is raining, you will have to figure out
a way to get here. If you are having your period, you must come anyway and
I will decide what to do. If you are sick, you must come anyway and I will
decide what to do. If your grandmother dies, you must come anyway and I will
decide whether you can go to the funeral. If you fail to show up one time,
the deal is over. I want to be sure you understand this." Amy nodded.
 
I asked, "are you on the Pill?" She shook her head no. "That's OK," I said.
What I had in mind for her wouldn't require very much birth control. I
continued rubbing her breasts. "Your breasts are very beautiful." After a few
seconds, Amy mumbled "thank you." I then added, "most women would be moaning
with pleasure from having their nipples tickled." I paused, gauging her
reaction, and she said nothing, but quietly murmurred "mmmm". I was pleased.
If she would put up with personal criticism in an intimate situation like
this, she might well be open to most anything I might suggest. Her reaction 
also indicated that she would allow me to arbitrate the standards of feminine 
response. I made a mental note of that for later, and decided to let her know 
that her response so far had been insufficient.
 
"Perhaps you are the kind of woman who needs to have her nipples sucked
in order to get turned on." When she still said nothing, I asked her to
stand up. I craned my neck and she bent toward me slightly as I brought
her right breast to my mouth. I took her nipple in, at first lightly swirling
it with my tongue, then sucking it gently, and finally sucking it rather hard.
She began moaning right away, just as I figured she might, and when I
first sucked hard she made an odd little sound, sort of a cross between a
grunt and a chirp, and I eased up for a moment in case I was hurting her, but
she didn't flinch when I resumed sucking hard. She began stroking the back
of my head, and I repeated the process with her other breast. Her nipples
were still only partially erect, but she was moaning so I didn't worry
about it. Either she was getting good and turned on, which was good, or else
she was faking for my benefit, which was better, at least for my purposes.
 
I stopped sucking, and told her to sit down. "I think you'll be very
satisfactory. I've been doing all the talking for a while. Is there anything
you think I should know?" She shook her head and quietly said no. "Then I'd
like you to tell me in your own words your interpretation of our arrangement,
and if we understand each other then I think we can proceed." I waited for
her to speak.
 
She hesitated, then said, "I will come here every Thursday night...".
I stopped her, and told her to look at me when she spoke. She restarted,
"I will come every Thursday, and do what you want. If you want, um, to
have friends, I will, um, do what they want too. If I don't, the deal is off.
If I do, you will give me an A." I think a little of my eloquence got lost
in the translation, but she had the gist of it. I had to keep from chuckling
at her change of the grade from a B to an A, but I couldn't let it pass
without some comment. "I think the grade we had discussed was a B, but
under the circumstances I suppose I can go along with what you want. This
arrangement will continue until I turn in the final grades for the class.
If that's agreeable to you then we have a deal."
 
Amy looked down, then evidently decided that she still was required to look
at me. She brought her eyes back up but had trouble maintaining eye contact.
I waited, wondering if she would volunteer anything.  As usual, she said
nothing, so I said, "OK, I'd like you to go to my bedroom, the first door on
the left, take off your clothes and get on the bed. I will join you in a
minute."
 
(continued)
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