Tackled by the Team

by Sierra Sparks

  It was glorious. It was magical. And word had clearly gotten out about it.

  "We heard you were with another student and we had already told you not to be," Jane says now, snapping her fingers to get my attention. I guess she had been talking while I was remembering the "cuddle session."

  Student.

  So, one of them had squealed to the administration, after enjoying the night of pleasure. But only one of them. I suppose the odds were in favor of that, and at least only one out of four had had morning after regrets strong enough to go tattle on me.

  "Harvard is very happy that a man of your qualifications is teaching a business class here," Jane says, hurrying to kiss my ass like everyone always does. "But for PR reasons, we are going to have to take a break from this teaching arrangement."

  "A break?" I ask, seriously confused.

  Sure, I'd had a bit too much fun with Carla and her friends. But who hadn't taken some ecstasy and had a fivesome at some point in their life? It was nothing worth suspending me over.

  "This is a suspension, isn't it?" I demand.

  "I wouldn't say that word," Carla answers.

  "I know you wouldn't because you didn't," I tell her, getting exacerbated now. "You used the word 'break.' What exactly does a 'break' entail? How is it different than a suspension?"

  For once my libido had gotten the best of me and had gotten me into trouble instead of only pleasure. I guess it’s time to face the consequences.

  Chapter 4 – Adam

  "A ‘break’ means you teach at another school for a semester and we see how things go," Carla explains, in answer to my question. "We've already arranged for it, so you don't have to go looking for one. You're assured of the position. And Harvard will continue paying your normal teaching salary, so you don't have to worry about that changing."

  I click my tongue at her, hoping it sounds just as annoying as her shoes did as they clicked down the hall. Because she's fucking annoying me all right.

  "And where is this school?" I ask. "Where are you banishing me for a semester?"

  "It's Hudson College," she says, hesitantly, as if anticipating my reaction.

  She obviously expects me to be angry or disappointed, but I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of blowing up at her.

  "I've never heard of the place," I tell her. "I suppose that means it's a real step down."

  "It's a small town in upstate New York," Carla explains. "It has a great liberal arts department but they're working on strengthening their business department and that's why they were interested in having you."

  The tone in her voice and her carefully chosen words let me know that this was the only school that was. No one wants a philander in their midst, teaching students they view as having innocent and impressionable minds.

  They don't know how these students spread their legs and show me their shaved pussies, begging me to fuck them, and not just because they want good grades. But, in their own minds, because they've heard I have a big cock and I know how to use it.

  "This is a… religious school," Jane adds, biting her lower lip as if she hadn't wanted to tell me that detail. "It's Baptist."

  "Baptist," I say, scratching my head to see if I can recall knowing anything about that religion.

  "Yes," she says. "So, they are in favor of abstinence until marriage. You may be surprised at some of the rules and the strict enforcement of them. There is a 9 pm curfew. There are separate dorms and even separate dining halls and sidewalks for the male and female students."

  "Separate sidewalks?" I ask, aghast.

  "Yes," Jane confirms.

  "They can't even be trusted to walk beside each other?" I ask her.

  She looks down at her hands which are folded in front of her, and I can tell she's trying hard not to smile. Hmmm. So, there is a fun side to Jane Peterson, Miss Prim and Proper School Board Member. Maybe sometimes she lets her hair down. Maybe she'd even let me pull on it while I fuck her.

  "The female students wear long skirts and long sleeved blouses and they are forbidden to cut their hair or wear make up," she says, looking at me as if this news might be the worst of all.

  She probably thinks I don't want to work anywhere where the women don't show too much skin. But she doesn't know I've dated girls from all kinds of different religions. All of them have let me into their pants— or long skirts.

  But, her point is well taken. She probably thinks these girls are more chaste than other college girls and won't be as eager to jump into bed with me as girls at Harvard have been.

  The message she's sending is clear. I have to be good. If I can behave myself at this super strict school where there is less temptation and less opportunity to be bad, than Harvard will take me back. If not, I won't be needed to teach in their business department any more.

  It’s not like it would be the end of the world. I certainly don't need the money. But I've passed the nuts and bolts part of the business onto people who are workhorses whereas I'm more the brains of the operation. Teaching gives me something to do on a daily basis. I can get out into the world and meet people and screw beautiful young college girls who are only half my age.

  Scratch that last part. I can't do that anymore. I have to fucking remember that.

  "Well, these girls sound lovely," I tell her, since that word is vague enough to be taken any way she wants to take it.

  I've found that women are lovely no matter what they wear, no matter what they believe, and even no matter what they look like. There's a conventional idea of beauty but I find that there's always something beautiful about a woman whether it's immediately obvious at first or not.

  Her eyes might sparkle more than most. She might have a mysterious birthmark or interesting pattern of freckles or cute dimple. Her hair might glisten and shine. I'm sure the women who attend this college in the middle of nowhere are just as lovely as the women who attend Harvard.

  "I'm excited about this new teaching opportunity," I tell her, and I want her to worry a little bit. Maybe I'll like it more than I like teaching at Harvard. Maybe I'll stay there. "When do I start?"

  Looking surprised, Jane opens her pursed lips and says, "Well, their summer vacation lasts for two more weeks. So the fall semester will start after that."

  "Perfect," I tell her, smiling.

  "Professor Masters," she says, blinking her long eyelashes at me. "I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you. I'm looking forward to seeing you back at Harvard. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help ease you through this transition."

  She shakes her tits at me and sticks her ass up in the air. She wants me, bad. Miss Goody Two Shoes Jane isn't above falling for my sex appeal.

  I know I could have her in a minute's time just by saying the word. I could bend her over my knee as I propped it up on one of these chairs and spank her stuck up ass while I fingered her pussy that would obviously be dripping wet for me. I could make her sit on my lap so I could cram my big cock into her pussy while she bounced up and down on me, eager for my twelve inches to be all the way inside of her.

  But she doesn't have enough meat on her bones for my taste. All women are beautiful but I prefer ample tits and a curvy ass. And a nicer personality.

  "Don't worry," I tell her. "Carla has some friends that can ease me through it."

  Jane's mouth drops open, and I'm quick to clarify my remark, as I head out the same door she click clacked her way into.

  "Don't worry," I tell her. "They're graduating at the summer ceremony this weekend. I'll wait until they're no longer Harvard students to pile them up on top of each other and fuck them one by one."

  I'm just kidding that I plan to do that to Carla's friends— because I already have, and I don't ever see the same girl twice. That just turns them into clingy psychos. I'd already found love once and lost it, so for the rest of my life I plan to just have fun— not get committed like some of these girls want to do if I dare fuck them more than once or take them on a r
eal date.

  My joke was worth it because Jane calls out, "You're not serious, right, Mr. Masters?"

  I can imagine her mouth hanging open even wider. I would put my cock in it, if she were my type. But she's not. And I always have plenty of other options. So, with that, I walk out of the classroom in which I've taught business classes for the past year and a half, and onto whatever awaits me at this religious school in the middle of nowhere.

  Chapter 5 – Sarah

  Now that it's just my Kindle Fire and me, I enjoy reading it every night. Even though living with my parents is pretty awful, I'm glad I don't live on campus. They have all kinds of strict rules that in some ways seem even crazier than my father's. One such rule is a strict lights out policy at nine o'clock in the evening, with no electronics allowed.

  At least at home, I have my Fire. My dad, for all his technological savviness in learning how to make fake profiles and post crazy things on Facebook, hasn't figured out that I can go online with it. Usually I only use it to look up things for schoolwork— I still like my privacy even if I'm studying business plans and I prefer to be in my room instead of in the living room with my parents over my shoulder— but sometimes I read the news or book blogs. My Internet browsing habits have been pretty tame. But I think that's about to change.

  The romance book I'm currently reading features a porn star and it's gotten me thinking about porn. I know it's evil and wrong but I can't seem to help myself. I've been fascinated with the thought of watching some.

  I open up the book to a part where the porn star is having sex with an older, more experienced man. She thought she'd be disappointed and like the younger, athletic studs better, but she surprises herself by being really into the sex she's having with the older guy.

  I can relate. For some reason I always fantasize about older men. There's something wise and dignified about them, like they know what they're doing. I've always felt like the more experienced and daring member of any "couple" I've been a part of so I think it would be nice to let the man take the lead for once, and I bet an older guy would know what he's doing and not be ashamed to do it.

  I let my imagination run away with me as I read about the older man's cock entering the porn star's pussy. I push my own fingers into my own pussy, biting my lip because it feels so good: slippery, juicy and soft and warm to my touch. I wish it was an older man doing it to me.

  In the book, other men enter the picture and start vying for the porn star's attention. She's filming a gangbang video and they take turns pushing their cocks into her pussy, some even two at once. She takes them all and enjoys it, but she keeps thinking about the first man: the older one, with the biggest cock that filled her up the best.

  After she's done working, she leaves with the older man and they have one on one sex again, which fulfills the porn star better than all the other men she was just with. She begins a monogamous relationship with the older man, who pays her way in life so that she no longer does porn.

  I'm excited after finishing the book and I still can't sleep. I decide this is the night to explore what I've been wondering about: the wide world of online porn.

  I open the browser and type in "porn." The first site that comes up looks rather shady, and is full of advertisements for online escorts. One of them catches my eye.

  Wanted: Beautiful Young Women.

  Are you a stunning, intelligent woman? Billionaires request your companionship. The compensation is just as amazing as you are. Call The Exchange Club at 555–1212 to learn more.

  The ad intrigues me, but obviously I'm not going to call it or anything. I don't even know what it would involve, but probably something sketchy. I can't help but wonder about this "compensation," though. Would it be enough to leave my parents' house and this small town?

  I click on the next link, not wanting to think too hard about being an "escort" for billionaires. It sounds a little bit too enticing. But my dad would probably disown me.

  Chapter 6 – Sarah

  The next link is more along the lines of what I was looking for. Teacher/ student porn. I click on it.

  An older man in glasses is giving a lecture to a younger woman who is also wearing glasses, and a schoolgirl skirt. Her white shirt is unbuttoned so that her large breasts peek out, and it's tied right underneath them, so that they're pushed up quite a bit.

  He begins quizzing her and she gets the answer wrong. So, he takes her over his knee and spanks her with a ruler. Her ass is naked under her skirt, and he spanks her until red welts appear on it. As she wriggles around on his lap, he puts a finger into her pussy and stretches it wide.

  This video turns me on even more than the smutty books I've been reading do. I didn't know how much I would like watching them. I spread my legs open and insert a finger into my own pussy again, stretching it wide just like the professor is doing to the student.

  He takes his pants off and makes her kneel on the floor while he jams his cock down her throat. She's very skilled, licking the head of his cock like a champ and then leaning her head back as he practically chokes her with it.

  He spanks his cock all over her face while I finger myself and play with my clit. I come as I wish that what was happening could be done to me. I wonder if I'll ever get to have sex in real life.

  The teacher takes the student into his lap and makes her straddle his legs. He spreads open her pussy and ass really wide so that I can see how wet he makes her. Her pussy is physically quivering for him.

  "Fuck me," she begs him, and I'm right there with her, from my bedroom.

  I spread my legs even wider and wiggle my hips while I say, "Yes, Professor, fuck me, please."

  He acquiesces, putting his large cock into her pussy. I put another finger into my own pussy and then balance my tablet on my leg as I play with my clit with my other hand.

  Oh, yes, it feels so good.

  She bounces up and down on his cock, moaning and squirming and saying, "Yes, yes, yes!"

  I'm right there with her, my mind screaming out, "Oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes, yes!" as I come all over the place, my hand filling up with juices dripping out of my pussy while electricity runs all the way through my body.

  Only when the door to my room jolts open do I realize that I wasn't only screaming "yes" in my mind. I was saying it out loud.

  Oh, shit.

  "Sarah Grace," my dad says, as he steps into my room.

  I'm scrambling to pull my pajama pants back over and to turn off the video playing on my tablet. But my dad clearly knows everything I was doing.

  "Sarah, this is a disgrace," he says, his face contorted with disgust. "I just don't know what to do with you anymore."

  He walks over to me and grabs the Fire out of my hands.

  "This contraption is of the devil and will not be allowed in this house anymore," he says, angrily. "You deceived me by saying you were reading books on this."

  "I am," I insist, hoping he doesn't go through my library and see exactly what kind of books I've been reading.

  "You left out the part where it plays despicable filth," he continues. "You continue to lie and deceive. You will be punished again, and will have to give testimony again."

  "No," I say, surprising myself with my disobedience.

  I never defy my father. But there's no way I'm getting up in front of the congregation again and confessing my sins. I'm still embarrassed from the last time I had to do that.

  "You will not be returning to your school," Dad says. "They're the ones who required you to get this tablet for your homework, so obviously they encourage the viewing of pornography."

  "That's not true," I tell him, desperately trying to defend the one outlet I have— the one escape from home. I have barely been able to survive summer vacation due to boredom, and I was looking forward to classes starting back up again in two weeks. He can't take that away from me. He just can't. "They just suggested I get a tablet to read my textbooks on. This was on a list of a lot of recommended…"

  "I don
't care," my father roars. "You're not going back there. Apparently I haven't been keeping an eye on you closely enough. I don't know where you learned about such sins, but it's my job to make sure you don't hear anything else about it."

  "Dad, please!" I beg him. "I'm nineteen years old. I don't go anywhere but church and school…"

  "Well, you'll only be going to one of those from now on," Dad says. "Your school pretended to be Christian but deceived me. They should have warned me about electronics they say are for school books, but which play porn videos. What other sins have my tuition money been going to fund?"

  "None!" I promise. "None at all. Please, Dad…"

  "Those are the new rules," he says, with a shrug. "The only thing that will keep you chaste. Give up your electronics and your schooling, and give testimony in front of the church. If not, you obviously aren't serious enough in your love of God. And those are the conditions under which you will be allowed to remain under this roof."

  He slams my door and leaves, my Fire in his hand. And I'm left a mess, tears running down my face.

  I'm tired of crying, though. I really haven't even done anything that bad compared to most people my age.

  I remember the way he said "under this roof." The only reason I've been under his roof is because he was paying for my college and one of his conditions for doing so was that I remain under his roof. He didn't even trust the uber strict Hudson College to keep me pure and chaste; he had to ensure that I was living under his watchful eye.

  I can't help but remember the ad about The Exchange Club I'd seen before this horrible mess unfolded. I even remember the phone number.

  I don't even have a phone, but I scramble out of bed and write down the number on a notepad on my desk, so I don't forget it. I need to find out what kind of great compensation they're talking about. I'll call them tomorrow when my dad is at the parsonage, planning his sermon for Sunday.