How I Spent My Summer Vacation

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During my second year at the university, I never set foot in the library, not even once, a record I was kinda proud of, truth be told. I was too busy with swim practice and trying to pork as many of the betties on the campus as I possibly could to worry about grades, ferchrissake – and I did an admirable job with the betties, too, believe you me. I left a trail of satisfied women a mile long, the face of each and every one of them glazed like a fuckin’ jelly donut with a heapin’ helping of my hardy sperm. And I took third at the nationals in the 100-yard breaststroke. I like to think the two are kinda related. Of course, I didn’t exactly pass all my classes – in fact, I didn’t pass any of them – and I sure as fuck didn’t want to lose my scholarship, so when coach called me in for a meeting I knew what was coming. When I got to his office in the basement of the athletic complex, I stood there for a minute, waiting for him to say something. Then, without looking up, he asked, “You know what your GPA was this semester?” I started to answer. “It was shit!” he snarled, cutting me off. “Shit! Christ, it was worse than shit! Jesus Christ on a crutch, Andrews, it was like you didn’t even try. Zero point fucking zero. That’s dangerously close to Animal House territory, you moron. Did you even show up to any of your classes?” I started to mumble something and he cut me off again. “Shut the fuck up … from this moment on, you are officially suspended from the team, until you get your grades back to where they need to be. Which means,“ he continued, “that you are gonna make up the classes you blew off this year, in May term and in Summer School. “Here,” he growled, handing me a piece of paper. “Call this number and they’ll set you up with a tutor. Ataşehir Escort And Andrews, I think it goes without saying that you better not fuck this up, because if you do, you’re done, you understand? Done. And not just as a member of this team. I’m talking about your academic career, such as it is at this find institution, coming to an end.” I looked at the floor. “You think I’m bullshitting you? I wish to Christ I was … I’ve got the A.D. so far up my ass he can taste my wife’s twat when I go down on her. I can’t protect you on this one, Bobbie. You don’t pull at least a C average this summer, by September you’ll be wearing a paper hat and asking people if they wanna supersize that, quicker than shit, I shit you not.” “I got it, coach. I got it.” “You better fucking have it, pal. Are we clear?” “Yeah …” “What was that? I didn’t hear you. I said, are we clear?” “Yes, sir. We are. Like Windex.” “Good, now get the fuck outta here. The A.D.’s gonna be here in ten minutes and I’ve gotta explain to him why none of you little fucks are graduating on time. See you at practice. *** When I got home that night, I called the number on the piece of paper the coach had given me. Someone answered on the third ring – and she sounded fucking hot. “Hi, uh … is this, uh … Alicia?” “Yes, it is – and let me guess,” she said slowly, enunciating each word in a throaty voice that grabbed me right by the nads. I figured that she had to be at least 40. “This must be my new student, Robert, the swimmer.” “Yes, well, umm, I’m taking some classes this summer and it’s really important that I pass so coach gave me your number and told me you’d be able to help me get through them, that you could tutor me and help me get Ataşehir Escort Bayan through this summer.” “Oh, did he?” she replied. “Well, we’ll have to see about that. I am available to tutor you, but let’s get this straight right now: it’s up to me, not you, whether or not we proceed and I’m really not interested in wasting my time with some jock who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world and can’t understand why everyone else doesn’t see that, too. There are plenty of other students that need help as well, Robert, plenty of students who are serious about their studies.” “I understand that, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” I told her, trying to sound as sincere as I possibly could. I couldn’t tell whether she bought it or not, but she continued: “That sounds promising, but first, we’ll need to meet so I can evaluate you and make a decision about whether or not you are worth my time. If you are, we’ll set up a schedule and go from there. If not, well, then you’re on your own. Are we clear?” “Yeah …” “I’m sorry, we must have a bad connection. I didn’t hear you. I said, are we clear?” “Yes, ma’am. Like Windex.” “Good. I’ll meet you tomorrow in the lobby of the library at 11 a.m. Don’t be late.” “Umm … how will I recognize you?” “Don’t worry about that. I’ll recognize you … oh, and Robert?” “Yes?” “I cannot emphasize this enough: I will not tolerate tardiness.” “Yes ma’am.” Yes, ma’am, indeed – bitch.At 2 p.m. sharp, I rang the doorbell. She lived in one of those older houses that had once been the elegant home of some faculty member or administrator back in the ‘20s or ‘30s, a big house with large rooms and high ceilings that had been carved up by some later owner into a bunch of smaller Escort Ataşehir apartments and single rooms, and rented to students. It may have been a beautiful place once, but from the outside it sure looked like a fucking dump now: a dirty, white clapboard house with some sort of green moss starting to grow on the exterior where the water hit the building when the gutters overflowed in the spring. The roof had moss growing on it, the lawn was completely overgrown and the trees were out of control. Two of the windows in the front were broken and the steps creaked under my foot as I walked up to the front door. Before I could ring the bell, I heard her feet on the stairs behind the door. It swung open and there she was. The first thing I noticed was her hair, dyed red and pinned up into a severe and tightly wound bun on the top of her head, and the feeling that I’d seen her somewhere before. My eyes travelled the length of her body, taking in every aspect of her countenance. She was breathtaking, projecting a muscular sexuality that spoke of hours in the gym – or maybe the pool – and seemed just barely restrained. She wore a translucent white shirt with iridescent buttons that called out the lacy black bra she wore underneath and a tight, grey skirt that ended at mid-thigh, framing her firm and shapely ass up just right. I traced along her lithe and muscular legs, sheathed in black fishnet stockings, from her luscious thighs down past her gracefully powerful calfs to her pedicured feet, shod in four-inch stilettos that wrapped around her ankles in thin, black leather straps. She had a sharp and angular face, set with piercing blue eyes and when she looked at me, I could tell she knew exactly what I was thinking as my eyes roamed over her tight, little body – and I was thinking how good it would feel to undo that hair and bury my fingers in it while I bounced my sperm off her tonsils. “Well, Robert, are you going to come in, or are you just going stand there all day on my front porch gaping?” Somehow I managed to look her in the eye.

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