Reading a few short stories

“What do you need help with, Miss?” Ian replied, unwilling to tread to her desk since he suspected that it would cause the other girls to stop their writing to ogle him.
“It’s about a question, Mister White.” The girl responded, and Ian knew that he would have to head over to her bench.

Sure enough, eleven pens hit the desk almost simultaneously when Ian rose to his feet, their female owners following every step he made with their full attention, gawking at the blood-filled pillar of meat which jutted in front of his thighs as he moved towards the blonde student that had called on his assistance.

“What’s your name, Miss?” Ian asked the student, while positioning himself so that his penis didn’t stand out over her desk, “And how can I help?”
“It’s Emma, Sir,” the blonde girl replied, and then lowered her voice so that Ian had to bend down over her shoulder, shooting his ass out towards the female student sitting behind her, “and it’s about question number eight.”

Ian was about to tell her to explain the problem in detail when a sudden eruption of giggles amongst the girls caused him to straighten back up in time to catch the girl behind him having put his hand behind his ass and pretended to spank it.
The girl, a pretty little Asian-looking thing with tanned skin and jet-black hair, moved her arm back from Ian’s ass and at least faded her naughty grin to some extent.

“Please girls,” Ian was falling back on his experience as a teacher but using it in a new view way when he continued to tell them all that “my eyes are up here.”
Ian’s words at least managed to stir a few of the girls to temporarily shift their gazes from his crotch to his face, even if quite a few kept up their single-minded staring at his cock; which Ian had to admit was pretty arousing as well as frustrating.
“Now,” Ian did his best to imitate Mrs. Grayson’s stern tone, “return to finishing your tests.”

Hoping that it had at least some small effect, Ian couldn’t hear any pens being picked up again as he resumed leaning in over Emma.
“Sir,” Emma was rubbing one glove-clad hand against her chin, “am I meant to take dancing girls into the equation when answering how many prostitutes there existed in Constantinople when Godfrey of Bouillon and the rest of the crusaders arrived there during the First Crusade?”
“I don’t know,” Ian admitted while taking a peek at the four offered answers and adding “boy that’s a lot of whores!” in a somewhat louder voice.
Ignoring the girlish giggling that followed upon one of the female students calling out “there’s about twelve of us here, Sir!” as a comment on his exclamation, Ian thought about Emma’s problem for a moment or two before telling her to “Compare the answers to your approximations of their numbers with or without taking the dancing girls into account, and pick the one that feels right. And write your question in the margin.”
“Alright, Sir.” Emma leaned her to the right, bringing her face closer to Ian’s cock and causing him to react by moving away from her.

Returning to the desk and sitting down again, Ian thought that Emma reminded him of no academic over-achievers that he had ever met before; while they tended to be pale, frail and quiet, Emma had a wondrous complexion, fit physique and tits that were bigger than her head.

So as to remain occupied while waiting for the tests to start being handed in, Ian picked a short-story up at random and began to skim through.
He only got a few phrases in before beginning to read it word for word however, and was just barely able to stop from beginning to jerk off as he took in the short story.

It was set in Venice in 1753, during the annual “Marriage to the Sea” ceremony, and followed two lines of sequences at the same time; partly the erotic performance carried out in front of the Doge at a party for the rich and powerful, and partly as a description of Casanova’s coupling with the Doge’s youngest daughter in another room of the mansion where the Doge and a few hundred of his closest associates were enjoying themselves.
It was a good story, and Ian read all ten pages of it as fast as he could, taking care to remember that it’s author had been one “Jennifer Milner”.

The next story that Ian picked up turned out to be set in the early nineteenth century, and dealt with a white trapper’s marriage to a Native American woman. After the first four pages that dealt with the purchase of the woman’s hand in marriage and a reasonably in-depth description of the marriage ceremony the story moved on to the couple’s wedding night, and the whole thing read like “Little Big Man” with all the characters possessing advanced acrobatic skills.

Thoroughly enjoying the second story, albeit not quite as much as the first one, Ian was surprised to find a female student standing by his desk, holding her test in her hands, and he had to tear himself from the story to deal with her. Looking at Ian with a mischievous smile, the woman handed him her paper, and informed him with not a little happiness in her voice that she had finished it.