First Tutorial by © Hamilton Joyce  MF

His voice droned on and her mind wandered in the heat of the afternoon sun.  
She had been fortunate, she thought , to get this job. Though her ambitions had 
been...still were, really...for a professorship at a more academically respected 
university. Still, it had its compensations. She stretched her long, slender legs 
as she thought of those compensations and, indeed, looked at one of them. The 
college was eager to succeed in the sporting world, and tended to recruit 
athletes. And, boy, she thought, boy, those young alpha males. Blonde athletes, 
brunette athletes, and especially coloured athletes. And the girls, too. Leggy, 
eager, their hormones racing in their young, muscle-toned bodies.

So eager to please the Proff!

Still his voice droned on as he read his assignment. His first fortnightly essay 
of his first year. She forced herself to listen. He had clearly tried hard....but it 
was the same old, half-digested, second-hand ideas...the same crippled jargon. 
Dull! But dull he himself was not...at least in the physical sense. Six foot, two 
hundred plus pounds, smouldering dark eyes anomalous with his blonde hair. 
Cropped hair. She imagined him stripped, studied his bulge under the creased, 
smart jeans. All her students smartened up for their tutorials with her! She 
wondered if his chest was still hairless, or whether there was  a light blonde or 
red fluff. Even as she watched she could see the bulge become more defined. 
Shaft and knob, swelling, hardening.

She was aware of her nipples as she studied his bulge. And her panties were 
surely getting damp! She had a trick of clenching and unclenching her 
thighs....she was sure no-one else could see this. And, yes! Yes, it was 
certainly waking her clit up. That and the leather against her thighs.

He had been nervous of this, his first tutorial. He knew he was there for his 
boxing and rowing...certainly not for his ability in Literary Criticism! His Proff 
was so elegant, sophisticated, and, yes, breathtaking-lovely.

And her study was a surprise!  He had expected the traditional clutter of books 
and papers, old armchairs, prints, pictures. All the clutter and jumble of the 
average academic rooms.
But as he walked through the door, the scene was minimalist. A tall window, 
through which the sunlight streamed unabated by any curtain. White 
paintwork, white walls, white marble floor. She sat in a stainless steel 
chair...white leather seat. His chair identical, empty. A stainless steel table 
with glass top. Nothing on it but a sheet of paper, fountain pen, ash-tray 
(stainless steel, empty.) No other furniture, except a long, broad, low bench, 
stainless steel legs, dazzling white leather top. Behind the bench a huge mirror, 
doubling the room's stark whiteness.

She did not rise, but sat there, smiling in greeting. They shook hands, she 
slipping her white silk jacket off and resting it over the chair, where her white 
leather purse already hung. She shook her head and her long, blonde hair 
shone and glistened in the sunlight. It was nearly red, he thought. What was 
the word for blonde hair, nearly red? He couldn't remember. He thought her 
legs were as good as any he had seen, and her tits....were they real?

Three quarters through his script he stumbled. Suddenly he had seen her 
nipples harden, pushing against the white knitted silk of her blouse. She 
stretched her legs, and his eyes kept returning to those long, slim legs, bare, 
tanned. Trim ankles, and white, low-heeled shoes. Suddenly he realised she 
was , oh so secretly, flexing and unflexing her thighs.
Somehow he managed  to get through the rest of his essay, though his mind 
was scarcely on it, and as he watched her nipples, knowing she was naked 
beneath. He was embarrassingly aware, too, of the bulge in his jeans as his 
cock swelled towards erection. He was sure she must have seen it. 

A silence as she made a couple of notes on the blank sheet. She took a pack 
from her purse, and lit a cigarette. She stood, And as she stood he had sudden 
glimpse of her lime green panties, exactly matching her nail varnish, and a 
close match to her eyes. She walked to the window, and stood,  her back to 
him. His cock was standing now, almost painfully erect, constrained by his 
tight jeans. He profitted from her facing away from him to adjust the hard 
prick so it stood straight up against the zip of his fly, more comfortable than 
stretched down his thigh.. 

Silent still, he looked at her back. White silk skirt, and blouse. Glorious hair to 
her shoulders. Her hips were perhaps broad, but her waist was tiny. And he 
knew her breasts would be magnificent in contrast with that hourglass waist. 
Slim legs. He wondered who was having her.Would her cunt hair be blonde, or 
red? What lucky guy had that body to play with? She turned round. Nipples 
still erect.

'That piece about the methodology of orthodox human sexuality. Could you 
read it again, please, Jake?'

He found the passage and repeated it.

'Interesting. Though I think you mean modality, not methodology. Your idea 
that the content of his work is limited by the medieval church's view of the 
permitted and forbidden is certainly interesting.' She stubbed out her cigarette, 
and moved around behind him. He could not see her, but knew she was close 
behind his chair, very close. 'What specific aspects of human sexuality had 
you in mind?'

He gulped. 'You mean , Mrs Yossarian, what did the Church forbid?'

'Well, Jake, I think we know what the Church allowed.....'

He gulped again. 'Well, sodomy, of course. And fellatio. And...... And 
cunnilingus....' He was blushing bright red, as only eighteen year old blondes 
can, however well-built, however athletic.

'Ah, yes. And cunnilingus, of course. ' She reached forward, and rested a 
hand, a manicured, slender hand, on each shoulder. He knew her flat belly was 
pressed against the leather back of his chair and could smell her elusive 
perfume, flowers, and yes! woman scent. She gripped the muscle in each 
shoulder, and kneaded. 'Ah yes, cunnilingus....' He felt her hands slip down 
into the front of his open necked shirt, still gripping and kneading his muscles. 
He was as if hypnotised.' And tell me, Jake, do you write of these  modalities 
from experience, or wholly from imagination?'

Her hands were down over his nipples now, and as she  posed this alarming 
question, he felt her pinch and pull each hard nipple with thumb and 
forefinger. Silence. He had to answer. 'Not from experience.'

She was leaning over him now, undoing the buttons of his shirt from behind. 
'Ah, Jake. Imagination is all very well for the creative writer, but we analytic 
critics need practical experience of that we write about. She moved in front of 
him, into his vision. We shall start with fellation,' she said as she knelt on the 
hard marble, 'And see where that takes us.'
With one strong pull, she unzipped his jeans. His knob peeked from the top of 
his white  boxers, where he had placed it. She pulled them down over the front 
of his cock, just as he stretched his legs out, around her petite , kneeling figure. 
She anchored the top of them  under his balls, pushing them up, and freeing 
the whole of his cock.

'So very handsome...' she murmured. And then her lips were over his knob. 
He felt them squeeze on the widest rim of his knob, her tongue flicking and 
stroking at the straining helmet. And now she was licking his balls, his cock 
touching her flowing hair. Her tongue now running, just the tip of her tongue, 
up the sensitive vein, slowly. And down again, to his balls. His legs stretched, 
muscles flexing, as again she ran her mouth up his prick, open lips this time, 
as if sucking at a ripe peach.

Her hands now under the waist of his boxer shorts, round the back of him, 
feeling his strong buttocks, pulling him on to her as she took the knob in her 
mouth, and then the whole of his cock enveloped in her mouth and throat. He 
reached down and held her head as she gobbled him, her head moving up and 
down the shaft of his cock. He looked at her trim calves and ankles as she 
knelt. His excitement was rising.

She tasted his cum. Just a drop or two. Didn't want it all over her designer 
suit!. She broke away. His disappointment was momentary as he realised she 
was pulling the white silk up over her head. Her tits stood proud, firm as she 
raised her arms up over her head.  She laughed, and again shook her burning 
gold hair , throwing the discarded blouse onto the table top. 

'Your tits are wonderful.'

She knew that. After all they should have been....they had certainly cost her 
enough in surgery! And the cleavage was enough  for this. She rested the cock 
between her tits, pressed them together with her palms, and wanked him , 
alternately squeezing  and releasing him. Another drop of white cum appeared.

 But she merely returned, really serious now, to sucking this blonde god. Her 
one hand still round his buttocks, the other sometimes twisting his blonde 
curls, sometimes tickling his balls or rubbing at his cock, she felt his tension 
rising.

'I can't hold it! I've got to...' He was trying to pull away from her. She 
supposed he imagined she wouldn't want his load of hot cum in her mouth. 
How wrong, she thought. She pulled him hard against her, his knob right up in 
the roof of her mouth, her cheeks hollowed with the suction, and she tapped 
lightly on his arsehole with her index finger. He gasped and she felt the first 
scalding spurt. Desperately she swallowed as he fountained inside her mouth. 
Her mouth filled with his cock and his cum, and cum dribbled down her chin 
and onto her suntanned tits. 

He had finished, and as she expected was still hard. His cock twitched as she 
withdrew her mouth. She stood , and kissed him on his lips, spunk still on her 
chin and lips. 'I loved that, Jake. Now let's lie down comfortably.'

His shirt was now lying on the floor beside them, and as he stood she pulled 
his boxer shorts and trousers down to his ankles. She shivered in anticipation 
as her hand ran down his muscular, lightly blonde-haired thighs and calves. 
She had to pull off his shoes and socks before he could step out of the clothes, 
and stand before her naked. Again they kissed, him naked, prick at forty five 
degrees between them pressing into her flat stomach, she dressed still in shoes 
and skirt, her tits pressed up against him. He still had a smooth chest. She was 
glad of this...so young and yet so vigorous! She rested an open hand under his 
balls, as if weighing them, but actually feeling the tightness of the skin and the 
light fuzz of blonde hairs.

She grasped him by the cock and led him to the couch. He lay on his back 
while she slipped her skirt down and kicked off her shoes.

'Pull my panties down, Jake!'

She was standing by the couch her back to him rounded cheeks inches from 
his face, and he reached to her and slipped her green panties down over her 
bum, allowing them to fall to her ankles. She turned round, and he saw she had 
shaved her cunt lips, leaving just a thin vertical line of blonde hair continuing 
the line of her crease up an inch or so over her mound. She was a vision. 
Naked, her broad hips were in exact proportion to her tiny waist and full 
breasts, which had no sign of a crease beneath them as she stood there looking 
at him, and also, he realised ,at herself in the mirror. 

'We are a handsome couple , Jake.'

'You are very beautiful, Mrs Yossarian.'

'Lyndsey, Jake. When we're in bed, Lyndsey.' She lay beside him, but her face 
to his crotch, her cunt to his face. He may have been a virgin, but he was not 
innocent of blue movies, so he knew what she wanted. And what her clit 
wanted, as it stood erect and hard as a little nut between the swollen, smooth 
pinkness of he lips.

His face close enough to know the heady  scent of her cunt, he parted her lips, 
and was, despite all the films he had watched,  surprised at the pinkness, satin-
smooth, within.  For a moment he was curiously, no stupidly, shy of touching 
her. She was so lovely, and so much more sophisticated than he felt. But she 
was there, and he dared. He moved his hand till it covered her naked mound. 
She muttered, probably a gutteral 'Oh yes!'. He moved his other hand, and 
parted her cuntlips, holding each between thumb and fore-finger, and pulling 
them outwards and open. He marvelled at the soft pinkness within, shining in 
the sunlight. Holding her open with one hand , he ran his other index finger  
the length of her slit, downwards from the clit, till the tip of his finger entered 
her . She was wet, slippery, exciting to him. He recalled her pensive phrase, 
'cunnilingus, Jake'.
She moved so her mound was now pressed up against him. Tentative, his 
pointed tongue touched her open flesh, just the point. She groaned and pressed 
her warm body even closer to him, pulling his thighs against her breasts, her 
face between his legs, his cock , almost painfully hard, pressed against her 
shoulder. He felt her tongue lick at his balls, and suddenly round to his 
arsehole. It was his turn to groan now, even as she chuckled. He felt her tongue 
penetrate his arse, tickling, but very, very stimulating. He reciprocated by 
running his tongue down the length of her slit, from the hard little clit, slowly 
down the lips, briefly entering her cunt, down over the hard inch between her 
cunt and arsehole, and then, briefly entering her anus.

'She removed her tongue from him and murmured. 'Lovely, Jake. Now suck 
my clit for me. I so want it.' Immediately, and willingly, he was flicking at her 
nub with his pointed tongue. 'Harder!' she muttered, and he licked with all the 
force he could muster. Within seconds, he could feel her coming, her open 
cunt sliding up and down his face as she ground against him. He was appalled, 
but excited at the obscenities she panted out as her orgasm mounted to a 
climax. And then she lay silent. 

Two silent moments. Then she pushed him over onto his back and knelt over 
him. Her cunt inches from his face. She lowered her cuntlips onto his lips, and 
started to grind her hips down onto him. 'I'm being face-fucked!' he thought 
to himself. 'She's using me as a toy to bring herself off.' As she moved above 
him, he could see, so close to his eyes, her open cunt, and the mysterious, 
smooth rose of her anus. It was shining with their juices...hers, he thought, not 
mine. He reached round her, one hand patting and fondling her beautiful 
buttocks, but the other tip-tapping on that secret place . Clearly she liked this, 
he thought, as she was dragging her cunt up and down his face even faster 
now. He penetrated her arse with the tip of his finger. She moaned, but fucked 
even harder. He pushed, and it slid in, up to the first joint. She moaned her 
pleasure yet again. Then he was finger-fucking her arse while she rode his 
face, hammering now at his chest with tiny clenched fists. Within seconds 
another stream of obscenities and endearments as she came.

She rolled off him, and moved so they were side by side, face to face.

He still had that hard cock. It seemed to have a life of its own. Like winged 
steel, he thought, a half-remembered quote from something he'd read. He 
moved closer and kissed her. She tasted pussy on his face and lips. He was 
fondling her breasts with both hands, pressing them, rolling nipples between 
thumb and forefinger. As they kissed her hands explored his athlete's body, 
and especially his hard stomach and tight, tiny bottom. 

'Your turn now, Jake.' Again she was on top of him. But this time lowering 
herself onto his cock, which she held in her right hand to make sure it was 
placed exactly right. He felt her warmth as his prick was enveloped in her 
cunt, and lay back to enjoy this passive pleasure. As she rode him, moving to 
and fro , up and down, with ecstatic vigour. As he lay there, again a sex object, 
he thought of the girls he'd tried, without success, to make. How he always 
had to make all the running. How they were mean with their little favours...a 
tit felt here, a crotch groped there. And here was a lovely woman openly 
enjoying his body, using him for her and his pleasure, conrtolling the flow of 
the sex acts but giving herself as generously as she took.

He reached up, breaking off his thoughts, and grasped a breast in one hand. 
He'd never seen or felt better tits, he thought. As he fondled them, her pace 
increased as if she were a jockey in the last furlong. She was panting now, and 
each down-stroke crashed into his belly and thighs. Suddenly she collapsed 
moaning onto his chest and he could feel the spasms shake her body, from her 
cunt through to the breasts crushed now against him. Their sweat mingled in 
the summer heat.

He had not come . The first huge orgasm in her mouth had put him in control, 
and although his pleasure....and pride....at her orgasms  had been immense, he 
had controlled himself.

Now she knelt on the couch, between him and the mirrored wall, hands on her 
bottom, spreading her buttocks, revealing again the tight, rose-like anus. 
'Finish in my arse, Jake. I love that.'

He could hardly believe his fortune. Of all things, this he wanted most. As he 
knelt behind her, she opened a sort of lid in the end of the couch and brought 
out a dildo. It was clearly a strap-on, but she merely held it to her cunt. Then 
he saw it slip in.

'Now. As hard as you like. And as fast!' She wiggled her buttocks, and was 
shagging herself with the dildo.

Her arsehole was moist with her juices, and had been relaxed by his fingering 
earlier. He placed his knob  and held her shoulders as he pushed it in. There 
was a momentary resistance and then it slipped in, deep, until his thighs were 
up against her buttocks. Her hand was working furiously with the dildo.

'Don't stop!' He had paused to savour the moment. Up a lovely woman's arse! 
'Fuck me. Hard!'

He reached under her to grasp a breast in each hand, and pulled her back onto 
him as he gave it every ounce of effort he could muster, like the last round of a 
boxing match, he thought, as his body crashed repeatedly into hers. Sweat 
dripped from his chest onto her back. Again the stream of obscenities as she 
came, and this time he felt his own climax, like a coiled spring inside his cock. 
As she came, so he pumped his cum into her.

They collapsed sideways onto the white leather, and his cock popped out, 
expelled by some spasm of her satisfied body. The dildo, abandoned, fell onto 
the floor.

As they dressed she spoke to him, again the Proff instructing her student. 'That 
was good, Jake. And we'll have a tutorial every fortnight this term. Two rules. 
First, no boasting! No kiss and tell, my boy.  Second, no jealousy. You'll 
probably guess that I like to have most of my students...and I go both ways. 
'She laughed, and picked up the strap-on dildo.'The girls love this! And not 
only the girls....'

'Is that a modality of sexuality I should experience, Mrs Yossarian?'

'Only if you really want it, of course, Jake. But if you do, of course!'

                                                     finis.

 
 

  
