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From: malinov@mindless.com (Malinov)
Subject: {ASS} RP A Poorly Written Essay by Lord Malinov
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A Poorly Written Essay
by Lord Malinov

~~~

She shuffled through the stack of papers as she wandered among the
desks, pulling out a particular sheet as she passed each student,
careful to keep a grip on the expanding fan of essays.  Mark caught
her eye as she searched for his and at once felt her disappointment. 
She folded the sheet slightly as she passed his essay to him and
continued through the maze of seats.

Mark turned over the assignment they had completed during the last
class session.  There were two red marks in the title alone, vicious
circles around his apostrophical errors of "A Midsummer's Nights
Dream" and two dozen more cruel strikes in the body of the three
paragraphs.  It had been a simple exercise, so there was no grade,
but at the bottom of the piece were the words, "See me after class!"

After a few comments on the varied use of rhyme in the comedic
romance, Miss Porter turned their attention to Othello.	

Mark watched as she spoke, intrigued by the twinge of color in her
cheek as she read Iago's speech, outlining his malicious scheme.  Her
dark blue eyes seemed to rage as she read, a fierce gaze that stirred
Mark's interest.  She closed the book and dismissed the students. He
could feel his heart beat as he stood and approached the front of the
classroom.

Liza dashed to Miss Porter and began pouring out her thoughts on the
Moor and his lily-white mistress.  Mark sat back on one of the front
desks and stifled a yawn.  Miss Porter nodded and nodded until Liza,
finally satisfied that she had proven her knowledge to the English
teacher, picked up her books and left.  Miss Porter rolled her eyes
as she looked at Mark.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

"Mark.  Could you drop by my office this afternoon?  I want to 
discuss your paper with you."

"Sure.  What time?"

"After two.  Before five."  Miss Porter smiled to show her concern
for her student.  Mark nodded.

He arrived at the tiny office in the belly of Wells Hall just after
two. Miss Porter gestured him in and continued making marks in a
ledger, so Mark quietly sat down amidst the stacked volumes of
Tennyson and Melville.  After a few minutes, she handed him a sheet
of paper with twenty sentences on it.

"Put apostrophes where they belong," she instructed.  Mark pulled
out a pen and began noting possessions in a steady progression.  He
handed the sheet back. Picking up her red pen, Miss Porter began to
read through the expressions.

"These are perfect," she said, confused.  "So you understand
apostrophes?"

"Yeah," Mark said.  "They aren't very hard."

"But you consistently used them incorrectly in your paper - twelve
mistakes in a single page of writing."

"I was writing about the lovers," he said with a blush.  "Sitting in
class thinking through so many casual affairs got me excited. 
Grammar kind of goes out the window when I get aroused emotionally." 
His heart beat hard as he spoke.

"I know," she said softly.  "I thought you observations were . . .
interesting, but the bad grammar took me out of it.  You should try
to remember that when you're writing, you're communicating.  I wanted
to hear what you had to say, but it was as if your speech was
slurred. Remember that you're talking to someone - to me - and speak
clearly."

"That was the problem.  I'm sorry, Miss Porter, but it's hard to
discuss the orgies of Midsummer with such a beautiful woman and keep
my diction." Mark looked at his hands in his lap, wringing nervously.
 "I mean, you're only, what, four years older than I am and . . ." 
He felt a hand on his arm. ". . .so pretty."  His voice trailed. 
Mark looked up and into Miss Porter's eyes.  The dark azure raged
with passion.  His breath halted and she kissed him.

He pulled her easily onto his lap as the touch of their hunger
expressed the whirlwind of unleashed desire.  Miss Porter, Kathy, the
pretty young assistant english professor touched him, lifted his
shirt to run her hands over his strong chest, through his dark curls
and in a moment's abandon let herself go as she kissed him.  Mark
kneaded her supple flesh, exploring the curves and swells of her body
anxiously, madly, eagerly.

She paused a moment to lift her soft yellow sweater up over her
head, and Mark at once suckled the dark nipples of a full naked
breast.  Kathy sighed and closed her eyes as she held his head hard
against the erotic tingling.  His hand slipped under her long skirt
and held the moist furrow in the palm of his strength and she
wantonly pushed herself against the probing until he had found his
way beneath the satin shroud. A finger slipped inside her and she
gasped.

An echo of footsteps in the hallway sent a shock of fear through the
young teacher and she paused to listen.  In the moment's hesitation,
Mark pushed his thick cock into the damp pit and Kathy fell back onto
her desk with the thrust, sending Joyce and Johnson crashing to the
floor.  Her hands clutched and crumpled papers as he stroked his
prick into her waterfall.  A staple in her ledger bit into her ass
and as the excitement climbed her precipice, she wondered in a
gushing flood of the juice of their orgasm's release if they would
drown good Liza's all-too-good marks.

She sat up as the wave of heavy breathing left them fading gently. 
Mark smiled shyly and stole a nervous quick kiss.  Kathy held her
arms out to hold him and drew him into her embrace.  The sound of
laughter down the halls interrupted their sweet pause and Mark tucked
in his shirt as Kathy smoothed her skirt and picked Ulysses off the
floor.

"Yes," she said in a murmur, "Yes."

As she pulled her sweater on again, a knock came at the office door.
 Liza slowly peered inside.

"I'll do better on the next essay," said Mark, collecting his books.

"Hmmm," said Kathy, "grammar isn't everything, you know."

~~~


Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude


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