Studentatrix Naomi Ryder

Naomi walks straight to the door after the last student leaves. The lock clicks. She turns. Mr. King is already sweating behind his desk. She grabs the back of his chair and spins it toward her. "Strip club. Last weekend. I watched you spend three hundred just to kneel behind the curtain and sniff every girl who sat on your face." He starts to speak. She shoves his shoulder. He hits the floor on his knees. "You’re married. You’ve got kids. And you crawl here because you’re addicted to college girls’ asses." She peels her jeans down. No underwear. She steps out of the denim and plants both bare feet on either side of his thighs. "Start with the feet." King’s tongue drags between her toes. She curls them, forces them deeper into his mouth until he gags. "Pathetic," she laughs, then spins, grabs his hair, and drags his face straight between her cheeks. "Deeper." Her thighs flex around his skull. She rocks forward, grinding her asshole across his tongue while his nose gets buried. Every circle she makes smears her sweat and scent over his entire face. He’s gasping when she lifts for a second, only to drop back down and smother him again. "You change every F to an A tonight," she says, rocking faster. "You do it while my pussy’s in your mouth." She slides lower, spreads, and pushes her wet lips over his lips and nose until he has to breathe through her. She keeps talking the whole time, low and cruel, telling him what a loser he is, how many other professors pay extra to eat her ass. Each filthy word makes him harder under his zipper and dumber by the second. When she finally stands and looks down at the wrecked man on the linoleum—face shiny, eyes glassy—she just grins. "Login now. Do it before I change my mind."