Chapter 1
Dr. Horton Granger squared his shoulders and opened the door of the college classroom. Freshman classes always made him sweat on the first day.
So many bright, eager faces. So many earnest, keen minds. So many hot, wet pussy slits hiding up those pleated plaid skirts just waiting to be plowed.
Dr. Granger walked to the podium and set his briefcase down. He heard a muffled sigh or two from the front row as he bent down.
He was used to that kind of adoration. Dr. Horton Granger was gifted with the body of a champion weight lifter and the face of a matinee idol.
His looks were, in fact, a bit old-fashioned. His profile was more Barrymore than DeNiro. But his looks were decidedly masculine.
He kept his body in superb shape by working out daily at the school gymnasium. That had turned into rather a fun place since it went coed last year. Of course, only faculty were allowed to join, but there were the attendants ... those young, nubile girls in black leotard and pink lipstick that never failed to capture his imagine, among other things of interest.
"Good morning," Dr. Granger said and set his pipe in his mouth. It wasn't lit, but no matter. His suave, academic image was best completed with that pipe. "This is Drama History. Those of you sitting out there would probably do best to be registered for this course. If you're not, please leave."
It was an odd request, but no less than four coeds got up and headed toward the door, head hung down and rear ends wagging sullenly.
Dr. Granger had learned to ask those not registered to leave. They usually included girls on campus who hadn't been able to get into his course.
There were such unfortunates.
He shook his head the least little bit possible and felt sorry for them ... may be next year.
"Now," he said, fumbled for a match and lit his pipe at long last, "there will be three lectures a week in this course ... and I expect all of you to show up promptly. You'd be well-advised to take notes and to study, because there will be three tests during the semester, not including final exams. Also, there will be one rather lengthy paper assigned, so you should be prepared to do some research. Hope you all know how to do that by now."
He had to smile. Sometimes freshmen didn't know how to research. That got some of the guys in trouble. And the girls, too, if they were unattractive.
But not so if they were shapely, adorable, and willing. Those were Dr. Granger's favorite coeds. The type that would seek work that wasn't assigned. The type that would rather put out than drop out.
The fact of the matter was, Horton Granger, Ph.D., M.A., B.S., ad nauseum, was a pimp. A first class academic procurer, and the best in his league.
The Bayes University was one of those rich eastern colleges in a rather rich delta of a rather huge river in a green corner of Pennsylvania.
Lots of money there. Lots of people wanting quality education for their offspring. Lots of people willing to pay huge sums to the university to get it ... and several just as willing to pay through the nose for first rate hookers.
And, it was Horton Granger's job to train them. Among other things.
"Now, I shall roll call," he said in a droning sort of voice, or as near to droning as it was possible for Horton Granger to sound. He had a rich bass profundo and a slight Cambridge accent that made listening to him a little thrill for the freshmen girls.
"It is not my intention to do this before every class however. After today, you're on your own. I am doing this now to find out if all who are registered are here."
A bit of book shuffling. Some feet scraping the linoleum floor. One or two coughs ... but there usually were.
Horton Granger was used to those sounds. He had been a professor since he was a young man. And today was his fortieth birthday.
He read the roll mechanically and one by one the students raised their hands. This was his least favorite part of the job ... the technical stuff.
He'd often wished he could snatch some young, unsuspecting freshman girl right out of her seat and have her come up here and do this while he fondled her tea cup breasts or inserted an academic finger into her hot, writhing cunt hole.
That might be fun.
But he knew he had to stop daydreaming. He would not become nearly so familiar with this year's crop of freshmen girls till at least another month or two into the semester.
But he knew he should begin checking them out now, while they were new. And, before he got too busy with all his usual after school activities ... like porking as many of the freshmen girls as he could get his mitts on in one semester.
Procuring be damned, he often thought to himself, after all ... what's life without a little fun. Naked virgins would good for a start.
Dr. Granger's voice droned on and on. After the roll was called, he opened his briefcase to the muted sighs of even more girls than previously and set about delivering his lecture.
It was on Comedy in Ancient Greece. Attic Comedy.
But he couldn't have cared less if it had been on nineteenth century country parson's butterfly collections. Academics was slightly boring next to the frenzied life he led.
Learning was secondary to experience.
And experience is what Dr. Granger lived for.
Perhaps it would have been different had he come from an under-privileged, or even a middle class home, but the guy was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
He was from a wealthy family who owned half of Pennsylvania's utility companies. And Horton had been a mite bored growing up. If it hadn't been for sex, he might have withered and died of sheer boredom, in fact.
Then, there had been his own education. What a lark!
He was naturally bright, so studying was unnecessary. And those wild parties soon grew too tame for his kinky tastes.
So, he quietly studied for his Ph.D., got it, and left his alma mater to seek a job teaching at a school away from his family.
They tended to pry, especially his mother.
She had caught him in a few suggestive postures as a child ... like looking up the maid's skirt, chasing the chauffeur's daughter into the tool shed, and tying up the eighteen year old Polish laundress with a clothesline.
Horton Granger had been a bit of a rogue as well. Well ... perhaps he was even more of a rogue now that he was a man.
But his boyhood had been so carefree.
Daddy was always there to provide in case any particularly indelicate situations arose ... like getting one of the servant's little girls knocked up. Fortunately, it had only happened a few times, and a quick dip into Daddy's big pockets produced enough dough to keep any cases of paternity out of the courts.
Daddy had been a willing accomplice, in fact, to many of Horton's indiscreet performances. The first one he even set up, paid for, and observed.
That was the first time Horton was aware that sex was more than just playing with himself ... which he did on several occasions.
"We're going to town," his father said to him one morning after breakfast, "and we're going to have a bit of fun."
He leaned over and winked at him curiously. It was especially curious, since that was unlike his father. And Horton had known him for twelve years.
The chauffeur driven limo pulled up in front of the huge circular driveway and Horton and his father climbed in. The car sped out the drive and whooshed down a quiet tree-lined street toward the center of town.
"Where we going, Daddy?" he had asked, thinking maybe his father had a card game in mind and he would obliged to sit still for a few hours while his father put down a lot of money and lost with wild abandon.
That happened frequently, and his mother didn't seem to approve too much.
"We're going to a lady friend's house," his father said, "you're old enough now to come with me. I've informed her that I'm bringing you. And she has a special playmate for you there. A little doll, I'm told."
"Aw, Dad," the boy said and squirmed in his seat uncomfortably, "you know I'm too old for dolls. Besides, I'm a boy."
"I know that very well. That's why I'm buying you a doll to play with."
Horton shook his head in confusion. He made a face out the window where his father couldn't see it, and he watched as the chauffeur drove up to a large brownstone structure with red velvet drapes in the window and a huge front gate.
There was a man behind the gate the size of a small horse. He cleared his throat when Mr. Granger came up the walk.
"Evening, sir," he said and opened the gate, "nice night, isn't it?"
Mr. Granger nodded and steered his son up the marble steps.
A wild whooping cry exploded from within and a blonde woman with the biggest set of tits Horton had ever seen pushed into a dress answered the door.
"Jasper, darling," she gushed and pecked Horton's father on the cheek. Then, she threw her arms around him and pressed her enormous bosom into his chest. She gave him a long, loud wet kiss. "Soooo nice to see you."
"Glad to be here, Mamie," the man said, "this is my son, Horton."
Horton felt like he would liked to have crawled under the rug just then, except if he had, he would have missed having the woman lean over and kiss him.
And that meant he would have missed the chance to stare down into the vast white expanse of her enormous eye-popping tit mounds.
"Ooooooh," she said and rocked up onto her toes, "isn't he precious." She leaned over to Horton's father and said, barely above a whisper, "Has he got a whang on him like his old man?"
She giggled insanely and slapped Horton's father on the back before leading them into the parlor.
When Mamie pulled back the curtain of the parlor, Horton let out a little gasp. It was a bit like a doll house in there. About a half dozen gorgeous girls of various shapes and descriptions. Each one looked as appetizing as a layer cake to him.
"Take your pick, Jasper, honey," she said in a honey-throated voice, "my girls are always ready to attend Jasper Granger's every wish."
It was only years later that Horton found out why. His father was a high stakes spender, in all departments. Any girl who ever tricked with him was assured of a fat tip before the hour or two was up.
"Now," the woman said and began winding Horton's wavy auburn hair around her finger in a way that made him feel slightly awkward and shy, "I've got something veeeeeerrrrry special for the young lad here."
"He's all ready, I'm sure," his father beamed. "Say, Mamie, who's that lovely creature over there?"
He pointed to a willowy red-haired girl with a pointed, slightly sloping set of knockers and incredibly long legs sitting by the fireside. Horton noted she had on a see-through negligee that left little to the imagination.
"That's Rochelle," Mamie oozed and went over to the girl. She patted her on the back, "she's kinky, too. Care to give it a try?"
The red-haired girl grinned like a lynx and Horton watched his father swerve over to her and hold his arm out. He escorted her right past his son and up a winding staircase toward the second floor.
"Well," Mamie said and took Horton's hand. "I hope you like little girls, Horton. This one p is a pixie. Younger than you. And veeeerrrry sexy. I always see to that."
"Uh huh," Horton said, and tried not to blush when his voice slid up an octave. "Her name is Doreen," the big blonde said, "and she's cuddly as a teddy bear. You should enjoy vourself tonight, young man."
The woman led him up the red-carpeted stairs to a white door. She knocked once and spoke softly, "Doreen, you have company."
The door twisted openly slowly and Horton saw a huge, round pair of green eyes peek out at him. Then, the door swung open further and he saw the most adorable blonde girl with the thickest, fuzziest halo of blonde hair all over her head. She was wearing a white gown that made her look a little like she was playing dress-up.
It was cut low in front and Horton could see the outlines of two round grapefruit tits straining against the silky material.
"Doreen," the woman said, "this is Horton. You're to be veeeeerrrry nice to him."
The girl said nothing. She stood right where she was and looked Horton up and down like a drill inspector.
"Well!" Mamie said at last, "I'll just leave you two alone for now."
With that, she wiggled her lusty front and headed out the door.
It was several minutes before either of them spoke.
Then, Doreen opened the conversation. "You play polo?" she said and stared at him like he was an enormous bug. "Some. Why?"
"I heard all rich kids play polo."
"What makes you think I'm rich?"
"Why else would you be here?" She tossed her golden cloud of hair and Horton felt his heart hit his boots. "I bet you're a spoiled brat."
"Thanks a lot."
"Don't mention it. You got any cigarettes?"
"Aren't you too young to smoke?"
"Hey!" the blonde girl said and wrinkled her nose up as she set her hands against her firm, svelte hips, "If I ain't too young to poke, I ain't too young to smoke."
"I don't smoke," Horton said, wondering how he'd ever agreed to come here with his father in the first place. This wasn't much fun.
"I figured. Rich kids never do." She walked over to the high, four-poster bed and sat down. She spread her legs just wide enough for Horton to see the outline of her cunt where the material was stretched suggestively over it.
"I don't like the smell of tobacco," Horton said, in his own defense.
Her green eyes grew wider. "You got any reefer?"
"No!" He wondered what the hell she was talking about.
She looked disappointed. "It's okay," she said at last, "Mamie don't let me smoke it anyway. She'd rip my face off if she saw me toke up here."
She crisscrossed her arms behind her head and lay back on the pink satin pillow.
Silence.
Horton wondered if maybe he should just leave, but there was something so damned intriguing about this little chick. He could feel a thick lump in his throat and a little jolt of excitement race through his cock.
The thing was already starting to hurt. Shit! He hoped she couldn't tell.
She stared at him for a long moment.
"You wanna fool around?" she said and licked her lips in a hot, sexy circle.
"Don't see why not," Horton said and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I better tell you up front," she said, and looked a little uncomfortable, "I'm very sexy."
"Oh," he said, trying to sound seasoned.
"You like them sexy?"
"I like them hot," Horton said. It was his first aggressive stand, and he felt proud for having come up with it.
"Take off my gown," the girl said and sat up. She lifted the hair off the nape of her ivory neck and leaned over.
Horton stared down at the blonde head. He reached for the back of her gown, but there was no zipper there ... or snaps as far as he could tell.
"Ouch!" he said and jerked up.
The bitch had tweaked his cock.
She lay back on the bed and giggled.
"You lousy little cunt!" he shouted and pounced on top of her.
The fucking little princess had had it as far as he was concerned. He pinned her to the bed with his hands and brought his whole weight down on them.
"Lemme go!" she said, eyes flashing.
She pitched and rolled to wrest free of his hold, but it did little good. Horton Granger had been lifting weights for enough years even then to count for some speed and muscle.
"Not in a pig's eye, you dumb bitch."
He brought his knee up to her groin and rubbed it hard into her cunt crack.
"Fuck you!" she shouted.
He grabbed the pink satin pillow and held it over her mouth. Her green eyes rolled around like marbles in on a plate.
"That ought to shut you up," he said and felt quite proud of himself for even thinking of it.
He drew both her hands up above her head and pinched them together at the wrists. He held them together with one of his own hands.
With the other, he ripped her gown off and got a good look at the fucking little cunt head. She had a body like a calendar girl ... a very young Miss April.
He sank both his knees into her thighs, defying her attempts to break free.
He unzipped his pants and reached inside. His cock was already stiffening up, just at the thought of having this little smart ass girl pinned under him like that.
He reached in and hauled out his stiffening rod.
"Mrrrfffff," the girl said when she saw the thing.
Horton Granger had absolutely no idea how large his cock was, but she seemed to be responding in a very demonstrative way.
He wondered what the hell it meant, but there wasn't any time to find out.
He reached down and spread the girl's sweet, pouting cunt lips apart. He looked into the wide gash with its layers of shining pink skin folded in neat rows.
He eyed the big slippery pink love button. When she struggled and tossed her hips up, he watched her lips form a perfect Cupid's bow, with the deep, dark mysterious hole centered so appropriately between them.
He felt his dick growing larger. The thing was vibrating hard in his hand and he lowered his body weight down onto her.
He felt the heat from her charged up little body. He felt the pressure of her muscles straining against his to be free. And the fight, the discomfort, the sheer oddity of the struggle made his dick thicker, harder, longer and ready to fuck.
He freed one hand momentarily and pinched her nipple hard.
"How do you like to be pinched?" he said teasingly.
She shot him daggers.
He made a vise with his hands and tightened one of her nipples with it. The stubby pink thing grew to the size of a rubber ball. He repeated the process on the other side and discovered the same response.
The touch of her hot flesh made his dick throb and ache with longing. The sight of the girl's sweet, readied cunt made his chest throb and ache with desire.
He looked down at his cock. The thing was wide and curved up dramatically from base to head. His head was as smooth as the head of a prize mushroom.
He felt the meandering purple undervein surge with blood.
The tip split open and a huge bubble of goo juiced out of it.
He lowered his dick head onto the girl's clit and began moving it back and forth across it. The bed rocked and heaved. The springs creaked.
"Oooh," he heard himself say the moment his dick connected with her sweet pink cunt meat. "Shit," he said and braced himself.
He felt his dick stiffen of its own accord, stiffen in readiness for the penetration he knew would come.
Horton reared his hips back and ringed his dick head with his muscular hand. He pushed the knob inside the wet, gripping cunt hole the little girl thrust every which way.
"Take that," he said with a vengeance. "Take that in your disgusting, slimey hole and take it up to your teeth."
With that, he hunched his hips up and rammed his prick fiercely inside the writhing, wet pussy hole.
The thing pierced the girl who let out a moan and continued to toss and turn like a wild mustang under harness.
He felt the impossibly tight muscles of the little girl close around his dick shaft. Not only were her muscles tighter than any fist, but they were so wet and smacking.
The noises alone were driving him crazy.
"Oh, God," he cried and slammed his hips down onto hers.
He yanked his prick free only to poke it back in her and feel the same delirious sensations go coursing through his young body.
"I'm gonna fuck you silly," he said, for lack of anything else to say. His head was swimming with wild fantasies.
"Krrrrffftt!! ! " she said and arched her back hard against the bed.
Her response gave him even more tension to play against. He rammed his dick down deep, deep into her honey pot and felt her squirm ... like a wildcat.
like a wildcat in a net.
"Ooooh, you like that, don't you," he said and felt his own lip open into a broad sneer. "Think you can make a monkey out of me? I'll show you."
He did, too.
With every hard thrust of his ramrod dick he was showing her.
He sunk his hard up to the hilt and felt her muscles ring it like rubber bands twisted tightly in place.
"Oooooh," he said, and tried desperately to hold out a bit longer.
The girl rolled her eyes around and he watched as her adorable tits rose and fell with every hard breath.
He felt her hump her hips up and seem to gobble his dick down with each thrust.
Her cunt hair was dripping with sweat and cunt honey.
The sweet pink folds of her pussy glistened wet and hot in the dim lamplight.
His cock felt like a baseball bat with a motor in it.
A motor that had gone out of control.
The thing rammed her pussy in a series of wild-non-stop plunges.
WHAM!
WHAM! WHAM!
"Ooooooooh," he said and felt his balls thud up against his base and cling there for dear life. His balls were going crazy.
The delicious sounds of cock smacking up into cunt ...
The tantalizing smells of pussy juice and pre-cum combined in the girl's hot writhing honey pot ...
The sight of her stretched hard out on the bed under him ... helpless except for that pumping hunk of his.
And he pumped his cock so hard, so furiously heart-stopping hard, that he felt a trickle of sweat run down his brow and ooze from his temple.
His balls emptied their load. PUMP! PUMP!
PUMP!
The bed creaked and groaned under the weight of the devilishly fucking boy and his wild pony girl. The bed moaned and creaked as Horton's come rushed down the long trail of his dick and exploded out the tip.
"Wooowwwwwwww!! ! ! ! " he said and tossed his head back a moment.
When he threw it forward again, the girl was riding him harder than he was her.
He felt her hips gyrate beneath him. Her back rolled into a series of waves ... rising, cresting, and falling again, only to rise into another wave, and another.
By the time his come cream had shot out fully into her cunt, she was moaning just as loud as he was yelling. And as often.
"Oh, you bitch," he said trying to catch his breath.
"You fucking little bitch."
"You cunt eater, you."
"You lousy little cunt."
He leaned over on his hands a moment and let his head fall forward. His prick felt so stiff, he didn't imagine it would ever go down.
He slid his dick out of the girl's hot, gripping cunt slit and sat back on his haunches. A huge glob of come cream still clung to his wide, hard knob.
He reared up on his knees and pointed the cock into her face.
Then, in one quick jerk, he yanked the pillow from her mouth and stuck his cock down her gaping throat.
"Arrrrggghhh!! ! " she said and tilted her head back so far, he could see the thick roll of his cock shaft bulging out in her throat.
"Eat my come," he said proudly, "eat it up or I'll bust your ass."
The girl, much to his surprise, gobbled his jism. She ate every last ounce of his come cream and licked his tip till he felt it smart.
"Better," he said and slowly, slowly, agonizingly drew his hard head from her lips. It came forth with a wet, wringing sound.
"I might even let you live."
He stared at the adorable blonde girl. He watched her a moment, then he sat up and released her hands from over her head.
She sat up and coughed. She wiped her lips and cleared her throat. She swung her feet to the side of the bed and sat with her back to him for the longest while.
Then, slowly, she turned her head over her shoulder and looked at him.
"Not bad," she said in her smart mouth little voice, "not bad at all."
Professor Horton Granger gathered up his sheaf of papers. He took one long last look at the bright, eager collegiate type faces in front of him.
"And that is this week's lecture on Attic Comedy. You'd do well to review your notes before coming to class on Wednesday. We will have a short, oral review at that time. Good day." He smiled and reached for his briefcase.
There was a tall, statuesque raven-haired beauty in the front row. He gave her a sly, almost imperceptible wink, then nodded.
She looked at him a moment, then down to her papers. He liked that. He liked it when girls were awed by his considerable powers over them.
It made him feel that things were in order ... that nature was revealing herself in the unmistakably universal truth of all things.
After all, he was in charge. He was in control. And only once had it ever been otherwise ... that long, wild night when his father had first taken him to a whore house. The first time he had ever laid eyes on Doreen.
And then, he had lost control for only a few minutes.