Those Special Nights

I resist the urge to eat a third bag of chips as I check the time on my phone, waiting for it to read 12:00 a.m. Chill out, you passed, I reassure myself for the hundredth time that night. Even you could get a measly seventy on that test.

My alarm going off startles me. I set it ten hours ago, thinking I wouldn’t be up this late. Man was I wrong. I take a deep breath before I open my laptop and, with trembling fingers, type in the URL address and then my username and password. I stop scrolling, noticing the ramblings of Professor Williams.

“Class, as you prepare for, hopefully, the remainder of your college experience, I hope you realize that certain classes require different study habits. What you did in high school will not help you pass college. You have to study, and no, I’m not talking about study to memorize the content, but study to retain the information being taught to you.”

Blah, blah, blah. I continue scrolling, wanting to get to my grade. An older professor would have never done this. They’ve accepted that students, quite honestly, didn’t give a shit.

These younger professors are so chatty, it’s annoying. When I finally locate my university email with my grade, my heart stops.

“No, no, no!” I jump out of bed, startling my roommate. She sighs deeply before turning to her side and pulling the cover over her head, continuing to read her book. Nerd. I grab my sandals, putting them on as I storm out of the room.

Finally, I make it to the Biology hall. I pause, kicking off my wet sandals, rubbing them against my wetter shirt before placing them back on. I should have gone back to the dorm and stolen my roommate’s umbrella, but I couldn’t chance it. I didn’t even know if Professor Williams was here.

I wipe at my face, thankful at that moment that my hair is natural. I start walking, knowing I don’t have any time to waste. The building looks creepy without anyone here, I notice as I quicken my pace.

The light under his office door lets me know he’s still here. Thank you, God! I barge in, not bothering to knock. He briefly looks up from his computer, snorting at me before looking back down at the screen.

“A lot of you guys are butt-hurt tonight. I wonder why,” he comments out loud.

“You gave me a sixty-nine.”

“No, Cheynell.” he looks up from his computer again. “You earned a sixty-nine. I didn’t give you anything,” he clarifies.

“I need a seventy to pass this class.”

“I’m well aware. Try again next semester.” I couldn’t afford to do that. I wasn’t like the other students here— I’m paying for college out-of-pocket, and I refuse to pay for the same class twice. Not to mention, it would throw off my class scheduling for next semester.

“I’ll be a senior next semester.”

“No, you won’t have enough credits to become a senior. You’ll be a junior again next semester.”

“You can’t do this,” I tell him as he rises up from his chair, shutting his laptop closed.

“Again,” he says on a sigh, “I’m not doing anything. You are doing this to yourself.” I shut the door, now standing in front of it. If he left, I would definitely be repeating this class. I couldn’t let that happen.

“Listen, it’s one point!” I angrily wave my hands in the air. “You could just change it.”

“I could,” he shakes his head, agreeing with me, “but I won’t. Life is not easy, and if you think that it is, then—”

“Oh, stop with the lecture. You’re, what, five years older than me, if that? What do you know about life at your age, our age?”

“Do you want to know the real reason I’m not changing your grade?” he questions, pausing, no longer packing his things to leave.

“Oh, so this is personal?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“You come to class late, speak loudly to that male friend of yours, do not take a single note, smile, and laugh while you gaze at your phone and not the PowerPoint on the board. You don’t take me or rather this class seriously at all.”

“It’s Biology!” I stress. “I’m an Education major, what the hell do I need Biology for?”

“What if you teach science?” he ponders.

“I’m teaching kindergarten, I’ll be fine.” He shakes his head.

“This is why you’ve failed this class.” He begins moving again. I open my arms, spreading them wide, letting him know he is not leaving. “Cheynell, I’m not changing it.”

“Yes, you are!” I reply, standing my ground. “It’s just one point.”

“No, I’m not,” he replies back. “You’ve failed. Accept it and move on.”

“What do I need to do?”

“What?” he questions, looking confused.

“Like, do you want me to write a paper about Biology, or maybe why I don’t think it’s useful?”

“Yes,” he replies with an eye roll, “because I want to spend whatever is left of my free time reading a paper.”

“It doesn’t have to be a paper,” I tell him. “I could help you grade papers next semester.”

“No,” he says again.

“Listen . . . okay . . . well, let me do multiple things. I could grade papers, also become your teacher’s assistant as well. Give me a chance to earn my point.”

“Earn your point,” he repeats, as he looks me up and down.

“Yes, earn my point,” I repeat, his gaze still trailing up and down my body. I blush, remembering what I have on— a thin t-shirt, which is now wet, sticking to me, and showing my double-D breasts because I didn’t have a bra on, paired with shorts so short, my ass cheeks are showing. I self-consciously cross my arms over my chest. It occurs to me what he wants. No, I mentally shake my head. He couldn’t possibly be proposing for me to have sex with him to earn my grade. No way.

“You can’t be serious,” I reply out loud. He closes the distance between us and I back up, hitting the door. He chuckles. “Stop playing,” I tell him. He extends his hand, reaching over my shoulder. I jump, not knowing what he’s about to do when he surprises me and locks the door. “Fuck, you’re serious, huh?” He walks back to the desk, and with one arm, tosses all the crap on the floor. Oh shit, he’s so serious.

“Jacket off, on the desk,” he commands, pointing to the desk. Shit! He’s really serious. My mind flashes to the porn I watched a year ago, where a female student found herself in the same predicament. But that was porn, and porn was just that . . . porn, with cheesy dialogue and acting. But this is real life and he wants me to fuck him for one point. One point! How dare he!

I want the grade changed, but not that bad. I have my pride, although I’ve fucked other men for much less. And this is my life and my money, and it wouldn’t kill me. Besides, Professor Williams is fine. He resembles a nerdy Chris Hemsworth. Also, my friends say white guys are champs when it comes to eating pussy. I need that relief— his stupid test made me so stressed. I smile, having made my mind up.

“If I do this, you’ll give me a seventy, right?” I ask, just to be sure. I’m not fucking for nothing.

“Yes!” His voice is suddenly deeper. I smile at that, slowly uncrossing my arms, taking my jacket off, now walking in his direction. I place both hands on the table, bending over, feeling a heat between my legs, getting turned on before I lift up, now sitting on the desk.

“On your hands and knees,” he commands. Like a good student, I follow his instruction without question.

“Do you do this often?” I ask him as he walks to the side of me, his hands trailing down my wet shirt, down my wet shorts, lingering on my exposed butt cheek before trailing back up to the waistband of my shorts.

“You’re the first. Open your legs.” I move the right leg over, putting a gap between my legs so he can do whatever he wants to me. I snort. Whatever he wants to me! I’m starting to sound like the chick in the porn. I jump when I feel my shorts slide down my ass, shivering suddenly, the cool air on my bare pussy. “You don’t have any panties on!” he comments, sounding surprised.

“I don’t wear panties at night.” He’s quiet for the longest second, making me think I somehow turned him off. Maybe the panties comment was a bit much. Crap, I chastise myself. How embarrassing would it be to see him around school, knowing we almost did what we didn’t do?

“I like it.” His voice is even deeper and heat washes over me. “Don’t you want to know why? Why you?”

“Yes!” I jump again when he trails a single finger over my pussy lips.

“I love black women.” I blush at his confession, my pussy throbbing, wanting him now. “Your beautiful, blemish-free, chocolate skin, large breasts, sexy hips, and voluptuous but small ass.” He runs his fingers down my pussy slit as I sigh deeply. “And you smell so fucking great.”

When he inserts a single finger inside me, I moan. The desk shakes before both my ass cheeks are spread and I inhale. I exhale when he inserts his tongue inside of me before trailing it down my lips, licking on my clit briefly before sticking his tongue back inside me.

“Ahh!” I moan when he kisses my pussy, his tongue now circling the entrance before he moves back to my clit, sucking on it gently while inserting two fingers inside me.

“Oh my God!” I cry out, my face now on the table, unable to hold myself with my hands any longer. He continues sucking and finger-fucking me faster as I shake, coming in his mouth. But he doesn’t stop. “Fuck!” I cry out, grabbing hold of the desk as I feel myself coming again. Damn, two in one night!

“Crap!” I scream, my head resting on the table, breathing in and out, trying to catch my breath. He walks to the front with his dick out of his pants. It’s darker than I imagined, and longer too. He has to be at least eight inches.

I smile, getting back on my hands and knees. I reach out greedily, stroking it gently, licking my lips.

“You like this,” he comments now chuckling but stops when I lick his tip. He moans as I twirl my tongue over it, rising to my knees. I cup his balls with my other hand before I run my tongue up and down the length of his shaft, slowly once, before I take the tip of him in my mouth. “Shit!” Moving down, I slowly begin taking more of him, still running my hands back under his balls, playing with them. Gagging, tears in my eyes as I pull back, licking him before taking him back in my mouth, more determined than ever to take every inch of him.

I grab hold of the back of his pants, forcing all of him into my mouth, swallowing. “Damn!” he moans, now gripping my hair tightly. As I choke, moving backward, spit runs down my chin and over his dick. I watch as some of it drops on the floor before I suck the remainder of my spit and his pre-cum off his tip, stroking him again. “You deserve a B just for this alone,” he tells me.

“A B!” I exclaim, his dick still in my mouth. “My dick sucking skills should at least get me an A, B+ at least.” He laughs.

“On your back, hold your legs.” I lay back, jumping from the coldness of the desk as I bring my legs toward my chest. I hear the opening of his desk drawer before it slams, shaking the desk. He fumbles with something before the desk shakes again.Now on top of me, he rubs his dick over my clit, smirking at me as he inserts himself inside me slowly. I squirm, grabbing hold of the desk, trying to adjust to him, before the sensation fades and is replaced with pleasure.

He tilts his hips, going in and out of me, slowly. I moan loudly, not caring where I am. As he continues to stroke me, now putting his fingers inside my mouth, I suck those as well. He stops briefly, now opening my legs, getting in between them. His combined body weight, heat, and slow stroking makes me sigh in ecstasy.

“I’m going to come,” he yells. Me too, I realize then. He comes quickly and falls on top of me, now playing with my hair. “I’ve decided . . . ” he begins, still inside of me. “You’ll help me grade papers next semester too.” I laugh, knowing what this really is. He wants to fuck again and that is okay with me.