The Professor's Red Couch

When Professor Kara Blackthorn's divorce papers arrive finalized, she realized she hasn't had any good sex in over a decade. As some hot Freshmen play flag football in the rain outside her office, she remembers a few of their faces from her Intro to Biology class - and they're all currently failing. Surely, some deal can be made to make everybody happy, right? This short story of about 5,000 words contains interracial sex, light m/m action, oral and anal scenes, and an intense gangbang with one starved-for-sex professor. Excerpt: A shaggy black-haired boy with a deep tan and veins visible on his tight forearms entered the room. His body rippled with toned muscles, yet he wasn't bulky. Almost slender. The quarterback. His grey eyes peered up sheepishly through his thick eyebrows. "Dr. Blackstone I am so sorry I'm-" "Sit down," she cut him off with a gesture to the wingchair in front of her desk. Greg complied and folded his hands over his knees. Kara clicked her tongue at a midterm in her hand. She peered over her glasses at the youth in front of her. Greg gave a weak smile. "How old are you, Mr. Honeywell?" "19." "19. I think that's old enough to know what the diffusion of water molecules across a permeable surface is, don't you?" "Uh, mitosis?" Greg pulled a "you-got-me" smile. "Mr. Honeywell," Kara said, tossing Greg's midterm back on to her desk without breaking eye contact with him, "I see you find my class to be an amusement." Greg became serious. "No, Professor, I mean, this stuff just doesn't stick for me." He put his hand over his mouth in thought. "High school was the same way. I just get way into practicing with the team and everything else gets left behind. Is there some way I can make up the test? I'm already on thin ice with Coach Radsky." "Yes, I'm aware of that. But I'm afraid I don't allow re-takes," Kara said, studying the boy in front of her. Greg's face fell even farther. She knew she had him just where she wanted him. "However," she continued, and his eyebrows flicked back up at her, "I think we can arrange something." "Dr. Blackstone, I am ready to do anything," Greg said. "Anything?" she toyed with him. "Yeah. You just name it." He was clearly not getting it. Kara took off her glasses. She stood up and walked around to Greg's side of the desk. Standing in front of him, their knees almost touched each other. His eyes moved down her body and rested on the hem of her short skirt. "Mr. Honeywell, I haven't been fucked properly in almost a decade," Kara said as she leaned back to rest her ass against the desk. "Ah, uh, Dr. Blackst-" "I want you to fuck me. And if you do it well enough I'll pass your ass." Greg sat speechless. He looked to the door and then to the window. Confident that no one was watching or listening in, he leaned forward and whispered, "I don't know. Couldn't this get us in a lot of trouble?" Kara folded her arms and looked over her nose at him. "You have ten seconds to make up your mind. This is an offer that will not repeat." Greg held her gaze, his courage visibly collecting. He stood up and wiped his palms on his pants. "Is this for real?" His voice had gathered more strength. "Five seconds."