New Chomps

When did I last write? I didn’t check because I was afraid that I’d get distracted and not get this first (ok second) sentence down. Well, for a while there we had some solid, workmanlike sessions on some capsules from Standard Farms. I’m not a fan. They work, but we didn’t have a single best ever with them. Also, they float, which makes them annoying to swallow. Who makes a pill float?

Then we switched over to some Organic Remedies tincture and immediately had a best ever. Now, there was more to it than that; in particular, we had to go a whole week without any sex at all so the desire-pressure was pretty built up. That, however, doesn’t always result in a best ever kind of night. Anyway, then the next week, last Friday, we had another best ever. I don’t usually think the strain or brand of weed makes a difference, or at least our response to it is generally so erratic that I can’t decipher any kind of pattern, but this kind of stands out.

The capsules are 11mg each, by the way, which is convenient. She could do four, I could do three and add one later if I thought we were going to go more than a couple hours (have I mentioned this before? Typically I’m coming down before her, unless I supplement partway through. One thing I just noticed is the they don’t have any CBD, which is unusual. I don’t think CBD does anything–it certainly doesn’t make you high–but maybe there’s some interaction with … I don’t know. It probably has nothing to do with anything. But that, I think, is the first time we’ve had something with no CBD at all.

The tincture is s’mores flavored. I’ve complained about this before; adding any food-ish flavor to weed flavor makes it better like adding sweet floral smells to sewer smells makes sewer smells better. I.e., IT DOESN’T. But then some people, like my wife, like adding sweet floral smells to sewer smells, and in fact she likes s’mores flavored weed oil, too. She actually said the other night that it’s her favorite flavor so far. She’s nuts … it’s disgusting. Though to be honest what she said was “that’s the least bad flavor yet.” I mean, what is s’mores flavor anyway? The flavors in a s’more come alongside textures, which are kind of important to the experience, and mixing them together makes no sense. It just doesn’t work.

So anyway, here’s what happened one of these nights. I don’t remember which. I was a college instructor of some kind, not some august professor, more like a grad student teaching assistant, but we didn’t explicitly express that. She was a student in my class, which had six other young women in it. They were all a little bit obsessed with me, but toward the beginning of the class they thought all the flirting was just in fun.

She, on the other hand, was being entirely serious. She started hanging out for a few minutes at the end of class, asking me questions about the lessons at first but moving on to “where do you live? Are you from around here?” At least on the first day. By the second day she was on to “what do you do for fun? Do you have a partner?” I knew exactly what was going on–I could have taken her home and taken advantage of her at any time. But I wanted to let the pressure build in her … let her think that maybe I would do it, and then maybe I wouldn’t, and maybe I would, until she was crazy with uncertainty and desire.

Finally they had their first test. By this point, her classmates were onto her, but only the sexually savvy ones understood that I was playing her; the others focused only on how annoying her flirting was. In their eyes, I was perfect. And extremely desirable. To the savvy ones, I became a trophy, a target of conquest. With that test coming, you can bet they were taking up all my office hours–I scheduled some extra time so that every one of my students had plenty of time with me.

This, of course, drove her mad with envy. They took the test; I gave her a B+. She deserved an A-, but I wanted her to suffer a little. And to beg for a better grade; really even an A- is less than she would usually accept for herself. When she asked to see me, I told her to come to my office later that evening, around 9pm, since I had dinner plans. Which, you know, made her wonder with whom …

I wasn’t terribly surprised that when she showed up she was in her little schoolgirl outfit. She looked nervous when I didn’t ask her to come in right away, but made her stand at the door while I finished a phone call. I let her in. I leaned back against my desk and asked her what I could do for her, without telling her to sit down. Standing there awkwardly, hesitantly, haltingly, she started begging me to increase her grade. “I’ll need you to show me what you can do better, you know. But first I need to punish you–for doing poorly on the test, first of all, but mainly for not immediately sucking my cock as soon as you came through my door. From now on, you will enter my office, you will not say a word, and you will get on your knees and deepthroat me as hard as you can. And for today, if you want that A, you are going to throat me like your life depends on it.”

Shaking–her knees almost giving out–she followed my beckoning finger to where I’d sat down on the loveseat. Roughly, I bent her over my lap and pulled her little skirt up to expose her ass cheeks. I pulled out the cane I kept under the cushions and began to whip her hot little schoolgirl ass, as my dick hardened underneath her. Feeling the pleasure of the whip, and the danger of my big cock, she shivered a little in fear and then shook violently in orgasm. I hissed “you naughty little girl. You are my slave, now. You will do everything I say!” She shuddered again and I saw wetness showing through her thin white panties. I hit her a few more times to make sure her ass was good and red.

Then it was time for her to perform. “Suck my dick like you deserve an A.” She did great … but tired too soon. I was almost ready to explode down her throat when she stopped, catching her breath. I pulled her panties down, bent her over the loveseat, fucked her sweet little pussy hard, came on her ass, and sent her home saying I’d have to think about her grade.

At that point it was all over–blowjobs on command, dripping sorority girl pussy when I wanted. I guess the others in the class had had enough of her getting me to herself, though, because each of them started putting out for me too. I let them all blow me, saying they could take her place if they did well enough. Six women in six days. They all did fine, but I had to admit that on a curve, she deserved an A.

Alright, obviously this didn’t happen, it was the story I was telling her, interrupted by grunts and moans and hissed commands like “suck my cock like you want that A, little slut!” and her going completely crazy. When story-me was telling story-her to blow me, I was telling her to blow me. When story-me was whipping the story-girl, I was whipping her. It really was a great, but short blowjob, just completely insane where I was twitching and throbbing and fighting coming. And then of course I found out afterward that she heard almost none of the story–certainly none of the getting bjs from six other students part of the story. So the craziness was inspired by a) hearing little bits that sounded dirty, but not enough of them to be turned off b) me going nuts.

Oh, but I should explain the title. One of these nights, she was sucking my dick and for some reason I said “lick my balls.” I haven’t always loved that before, but she went to town, not just licking but sucking and grinding and chomping and WOW. We did it again a bit later and it was just as good. Nice trick to add to the repertoire.