The first two summer months were lived in a state of suspended animation. Like a refugee, waiting forlornly in a camp, I’d wondered about my fate with a hideous sense of doom. Despite the sunshine, the sea breeze and the lack of any meaningful schedule, I found no joy in my days. Instead, each sunrise seemed to bring the certainty that things would soon cut to black.
Books that I’d meant to read were left on the shelves, my own writing trickled out with the scarcity of a desert creek. Eating was something I mostly forgot to do. Socially, I couldn’t get comfortable enough with my situation to risk staining someone else’s reputation. In short, I was owned by my blackmailer: leveraged by a single photo of some very bad behavior.
As had become my sad custom, I was sitting on the porch of my rented carriage house, looking at the cultivated grounds of the larger estate and thinking about the futility of my situation. The beer I’d opened thirty minutes ago sat sweating and untouched. My mind raced with scenarios of revenge, exposure, ruination and, very occasionally, unrivalled pleasure. The truth is, the act that had landed me in my dilemma haunted me as a jagged silver lining to the dark cloud I now lived under in its aftermath.
Yes, fucking the mouth of my student was irresponsible on a galactic level. But the scene in my office that day would have sucked in the most scrupulous man (the pun is intended). On the rare occasions, I did laugh these days, it was almost always at the absurd notion of walking away from the opportunity I had found myself in. Of course, no one would ever understand that reality unless they’d been there or had the superpower of total honesty. In my academia, a dedication to mindful inquiry stopped well short of delving candidly into sexual matters between student and professor. Considering that the young women in question had been the instigators and very willing participants was not in the realm of possibility among the jury of my peers. In the age of #MeToo, my conviction and disgrace would be immediate, profound and very public. There is simply no way of explaining a coed blowing you in your office while her friend masturbated in a rather graphic way right in front of you.
Next to the beer, my phone buzzed and kicked me out of my daily somnambulance. Almost without human contact these days, I picked up the device and turned it over with a bit of “someone cares” in my chest. A message from a number I didn’t recognize promised an attachment and so I opened it. On Mr. Jobs’ sleek screen, I appeared in digital glory, pants around my ankles, my manhood stuffed into the frothing mouth of young Jessica. The evidence that had put me on the rack for these two months now stared me in the face, electronically relayed through the wonder of modern technology; it gripped my bowels with a prehistoric understanding of threat.
Before I could manage the churn of my reaction, the phone buzzed again from the same number. This text read, “Paying u a vst 2nite. Dirctions to cum.”
There are many ways a a man like me could react to this kind of message. Perhaps belying my most authentic self, my dick leapt into battle station readiness. I must admit, on a cognitive level, this disappointed me. Where was my discipline, sense of dignity, my appreciation for the very dangerous territory this behavior had landed me in?
For weeks, I’d tried to figure out a way to extricate myself from it all but there simply was no reasonable way out. That picture of me, in anyone’s hands, would be my professional end. All I needed to do was cross its owner, Roberta, and “poof!” I’d be gone from university life forever.
So, why did it turn me on so much? Good God, if you could’ve seen that little snatch on Roberta or felt the eager pulls of Jessica’s mouth, no heterosexual man with a heartbeat could have walked away from all of that. Of this, I’m quite certain.
But as the sun skimmed the tops of the oaks surrounding my little house, I wondered if this evening would bring new pleasure or some fresh hell. I grabbed the beer and took a long, needy swig.
~~~~
At 8:30, I had a single light on in my reading room and I was feigning interest in Faulkner’s, The Wild Palms. For the past five minutes, I’d been on a single paragraph, not all that surprising given the author but I was definitely unfocused. My dick had not stood down since that promise of company. There was no dinner, just a couple of beers and a brief straightening up of the place. Then I felt silly prepping my home for a couple of kids a hair’s breath away from their teens (I hoped). So, I “read.”
With the shock of a cattle prod, the phone buzzed. “Drs unlckd. Lites & clothes off. U on ur hands n nees with your cute l’il butt pointed 2 the door.”
Jesus, they couldn’t even spell and yet they controlled me like a marionette.
At this point, reason did rear its head. The adult in me launched into a convincing case of why I should simply shut this whole thing down, take the professional consequence of what I’d done and move on to the next phase of my life. If I were being honest, the past two months had been no way to live. My work was pathetic and my hours were riddled with the anxiety of being found out. I just had to come clean and roll the dice. “Maybe they wouldn’t want to send that picture to anyone,” I hoped like an idiot.
35 years old, I had busted my cute little butt for seventeen years to get to the position I was in as a scholar. Literature was an obsession, it kept me up through the night, stoked me to classroom performances of real joy and made me feel satisfied with my contribution to the world. Considering all that I’d achieved, I still couldn’t escape a simple truth: I’d already crossed the Rubicon that day in my office. Everything that I valued was now in jeopardy and one more instance wasn’t going to make anything better or worse. Besides someone, it must be Roberta, had clearly thought pretty hard about making this happen. Have you ever had a profoundly beautiful twenty year old tell you to get naked on all fours? Hmmm?
I took my clothes off and got in position.
~~~~
After thirty minutes of dog imitation, when I’d become acutely aware of every smell and sound of the Massachusetts evening, I finally heard a car rolling in on the crushed seashell drive to my front door. Again, my cock was as rigid as the flagpole my guests would walk by on their way to the porch. As eagerly as I anticipated what their arrival might bring, there was also a heady dose of concern that this could be deeply humiliating.
The car stopped and I heard one, two… was that three doors closing?
Panic twisted my guts. Like an ass, I’d assumed this would only be Jessica and Roberta showing up, my partners in the office indiscretion. New members to this scandal were such a combustible component that for the first time in hours, I started getting soft.
Outside, they approached in silence but for one stifled, exuberant giggle shared by more than two. Fuck!
The door opened cautiously, I took a deep breath in the dark and turned my head to what the devil had brought to my doorstep.
“Don’t you dare look at us.” Roberta was cold and on point, extremely comfortable with her demands. Without even seeing her, I could imagine her imperious look. The surety flashing across her young face that only a life of privilege can provide.
“Here’s the rule, Professor Blackburn. You do exactly what we tell you to do and the picture stays between us. Got it?”
With as much self-respect as a man in my position could muster, I said, “Got it.”
Still, from the safety of the doorway, Roberta commanded, “Keep your eyes on the floor until I tell you otherwise.”
I got hard again. Being spoken to in this manner by a woman, fifteen years my junior was irritating to say the least. Were it not for the photo, I’d put her over my knee and give her the spanking she so richly deserved and, I had an inkling, would enjoy. But that was not on the menu tonight.
With my eyes fixed on the floor, I listened for clues on what was to come. Their plan was not without some creativity. In short order, I was encircled by a ring of votive candles all placed by the owner of a pair of tanned legs that I’m sure was Roberta. The lower legs were wrapped in gold strappy sandals in some kind of tribute to gladiator chic. Continuing in an ancient theme, she wore a flowy white dress that from my narrow vantage seemed very much like a toga. Of her companions, I could learn little as they remained behind me and said nothing but snorted out a bit of giddy silliness with some regularity. I must’ve been quite a sight for them: once a respected professor now, a naked subject to the Goddess Roberta. My asshole was the only instrument of greeting I was allowed to share with my guests.
When she’d finished with the candles, Roberta rolled out a thick yoga mat and slid it under my hands and knees. This bit of comfort was appreciated and I was flattered that she’d thought of me in this way. Then, she spanked my ass with such cold-hearted suddenness, I had to bite my lip to hide my pain. Though I still could not see them, the stillness from whoever was behind me suggested that this was not something they’d expected.
“You’ve got a nice ass, professor,” Roberta said from above me. “Anybody ever fuck it before?”
Let me tell you something at this point, I need to cop to having a sexual appetite that borders on addiction. One of the only ways I’ve been able to control it, has been to lose myself in my work and exercise. The very few times I’ve truly let myself go where I’d like to, the paths have been dark to say the least and very, very long. Like months at a time lost to a litany of perversions.
“No. That hasn’t happened,” I said truthfully.
The golden sandals made their way in front of me and Roberta dropped into my frame of view. The almond shaped eyes, the mocha lips and the perfect teeth assembled in a display of hedonistic temptation. She took me in for an uncomfortable minute or two, looking over my face for what I did not know. Somehow, my cock got even harder.
“You’re cute,” she said and nodded to her companions.
Behind me, there was movement. I was pretty sure there was no more than two of them. If there was a God in heaven, one of them was my Victorian lover, Jessica. She of the hungry mouth and full, wide breasts. The number of times, I’d splashed my stomach thinking of her this summer was embarrassing. Speaking of embarrassment, 35-year old me had even contemplated a romance between the two of us. There was something so sweet about her lightly freckled, blonde self. I mean, despite the blackmailing thing.
A warm, cautious hand rested on my left haunch. So light, I thought I felt a little tremble in its touch as it tentatively rubbed my ass cheek. That felt good. Even better was a different hand that reached between my thighs and cupped my balls. This hand was definitely practiced. Was it Jessica? Paying attention to the “no look” rule, I fixed my gaze straight ahead which meant deep into the eyes of Roberta. She’d knelt before me, a delicate gold chain running across her brown forehead with a very expensive looking ruby sitting in the middle of it. The girl was exotic. At least my weakness was exposed by a masterpiece of sexual attraction. She took a big breath and sighed it into my face. A little red wine, weed and maybe just a hint of breath mint passed my nose. Half lidded, her eyes sparkled with mischief. She was enjoying this.
“It’s thick.”
I did not know this voice but thrilled to know that its possessor had grasped my manhood with some appreciation.
“For a skinny guy, Professor, you’ve got a fat cock on you.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the compliment and the slow stroking that was finally giving my hardness the attention it had been begging for. With raised eyebrows, Roberta gave me a conspiratorial smile, though what goal we were working toward together, I could not fathom.
As the foreign hand continued its slow pump, I felt a pair of lips and a hot tongue begin a triple A roadmap of a journey across my ass. Without ever actually hitting my dark spot, the pilgrim got close enough on several occasions that my dick responded each time with a robotic flex. This elicited a giggle at first but soon seem to become a major objective in the work being done. The more I responded to the commands of the unseen attention, the more throaty the approval became. My guests seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as I was and, of course, this pleased me.
Roberta drew her face so close to mine, it became uncomfortable not to kiss her. With my erogenous zones aflame, my famine for the sultry temptress before me was biblical. In her eyes, it became quite apparent that my desire was noted and I believed the sought for purpose of the evening. Maybe even the turn on Roberta was looking for. Though I could not see what her hands were doing, I wondered if they’d found their way to the paradise between those smooth, brown thighs. Her eyelids fluttered and my wonder was confirmed.
In the humid night, this exercise continued at an excruciatingly measured pace. My friends behind me seemed quite content to busy themselves with the sensitive bits below my navel and Roberta had assumed an almost opioid induced focus, her shoulder moving up and down following the lead of her hand. Her face always maintaining the narrow gap from mine. I desperately wanted to savor the moment, but like I said, I’m pretty much an addict in these matters and I began obsessing on what was to come next.
“Stop.” Roberta’s lucidity came out of nowhere. Seemingly, lost in self pleasure and my predicament in one moment, she was back to giving orders the next. This both excited and concerned me. I wanted to know what else they had in store but the sudden authority in Roberta’s voice made me consider if this was all some larger plan to entangle me further in her blackmail.
“Professor, you’re going to close your eyes and lie on your back.”
I liked that idea.
“My friends here, want to see what that cock feels like inside of them.” Her seriousness amazed me. It thrilled me to no end that this was something these young women had clearly discussed, perhaps at length, and then planned for. Me. Three co-eds had created this whole scenario so they could get off on a humble professor. That blew my mind. But there was a catch. I am a good listener and it was not lost on me that it was “the friends” that wanted to enjoy my cock, not the temptress before me. I think she recognized my disappointment.
“Close your eyes.”
I did.
“Lie on your back.”
I turned and stretched out on the mat. It’s ridiculous but in that moment, the thrill of what was to come was tainted by what would not be included. For all the intense pleasure I’d found in fucking Jessica’s mouth that day in my office, for the many times I’d fantasized of holding her big tits in my hands again, the most compelling element of that scene had been Roberta’s treasured pussy. A symphony of gentle swelling, flared petals and a pink secret garden, it more than anything had haunted my summer. Now, so close at hand, my plundering of it was to be denied.
In my unseeing, I felt and heard movement once again. In the arranging of bodies, I sensed a disciplined reluctance to speak. There was an element of surprise that still awaited me.
Something flat and hard was placed on my sternum. It was about the size of a hand. Two feet scrunched into position by my shoulders on the mat and then I felt my head tented in material and an immediate ratcheting up of the heat and humidity of the evening. After a moment, I also experienced the riveting scent of a perfumed pussy.
“Open your eyes.” Roberta’s voice was salacious and welcoming.
She had straddled my face, I was draped in her dress but the interior was ablaze thanks to the light on her phone that I now realized rested on my chest. Inches from my eyes, mouth and nose was her unmatched sex spot.
“You can look but you are absolutely not allowed to touch.”
How did a woman so young, have such a brilliant understanding of delicious cruelty? How could my wants and needs be so blatant to her? It was nothing short of shameful to be thoroughly known by one barely half my age.
I gazed into the erotic rabbit hole before me and settled into the next phase of the evening.
Outside of Roberta’s dress, my cock was grasped at its base and held upright. There was stifled laughter and then a steamy heat on the helmet of my warrior. My first partner took shallow breaths and then began easing me into her eager self. The fit was tight. Her first movements were small. A slow inching along hard flesh and wet interiors, her shallow breaths became little pants. After my humiliation at Roberta’s hands, the effect of my member on her young colleague was a balm to my ego. My mind reveled in images of testosterone coursing through my veins, charging to my cock with an overwhelming zeal for something like “victory.” To force my way all the way into this little slut felt like the singular purpose of my being.
“Get it all the way in.”
Roberta, as she had been in my office, seemed my partner in perversion. In her voice, I heard the same rampant need for hardcore: a hunger to take things all the way to the edge.
“Let it hurt you. You know you want it, girl.”
An obeisance to the one in charge, my lover gave into gravity and slid down the length of me. Her panting turned to a keening edged with pain. But she didn’t give in to the deterrent, instead she rode me with a steady increase in pace and intensity. The pussy before my eyes twitched without control, without touch. Roberta was getting as much out of this as I was. She leaned forward and as my fucker started the unmistakable moan of an impending climax, her enjoyment was smothered by what must have been Roberta’s mouth. Focused on not cumming myself, I listened raptly to the hungry slurps of lips and tongues above me. A long viscous strand of pleasure dripped from Roberta’s pink inner lips and landed sweetly on the tip of my nose. With an almost manic burst of energy, I felt suddenly freed of any worry of what these young things had brought into my life. My sexual powers raged and my mind turned off to all but the very moment.
The knees pressed into my sides started to shake, the strokes up and down my cock became arrhythmic, the moaning whooshed into one long, held breath. My lover forced herself to the base of my cock with finality and howled in the satisfaction of her release. I bit down hard on my tongue to distract my own urge to spray myself inside her walls. The effort brought a little blood into my mouth which somehow made me feel even more virile.
A pause. Heavy breathing. Roberta leaned in again and another kiss was heard, this one different, almost tender. Knees came away from my sides and I sensed, my confinement had been lessened, my young lover was off of me. Was that Jessica?
“Close your eyes,” Roberta commanded. After waiting a beat, she asked “Are they closed?”
“Yes.”
Roberta lifted her skirts and moved from straddling my face to whispering in my ear.
“You liked that, right?”
Eyes closed, I nodded and smiled. “So good. So, so good.”
“My other friend here, wants something similar. Are you up for that?”
I nodded my head almost in unison with my now bobbing cock.
“Okay, good. Give me your hand”
Her small hand lifted mine, turned it over and placed it on a firm, round ass. At my touch, the rump started gently swaying from side to side. Roberta guided me to the bum’s dividing line and downward. Here, my fingers found a hard protrusion, a smooth knob.
“She’s had that in her since we left the sorority house. She loves to get her ass fucked,” Roberta breathed in my ear. “You game?”
At the risk of sounding a bit spoiled, of course I wanted to do it but God knows, I was desperate to see just who my partners were. Just by the touch of that ass, I longed for the visual affirmation that it was everything I could hope for, a fantasy that could last a lifetime. A scholar of narrative, I needed to know my characters. But Roberta was the author of this passage and she was allowing only what she wanted.
“Let me fuck her, please,” I asked.
“In her ass, right?”
“Yes.”
Roberta’s lips pressed hot to my ear. “You’re a sick pup, aren’t you, Professor? She’s barely 18. Do you have any idea what would happen to you if this got out?”
As I considered this potentiality, I could hear and feel something going on where my hand had just been. Not speaking to me, Roberta asked, “That feel good?” A guttural response in the affirmative made me barely care about consequence. If I could only open my eyes to know exactly what was going on.
The unseen ass owner gave an exclamatory moan and Roberta straddled my face again covering my head with her skirts.
“Professor, you can open your eyes. You bitch, get on top of him.”
The single strand of cum from Roberta’s pussy was now a cobweb of lust. Her lips were spread wide open, smeared in her brazen lubricant and her clit stood out like a lighthouse. I wanted so badly to devour it all, but that was not allowed.
A container was opened and a cool liquid was squeezed out and massaged onto my relentless stiffy. Were those Roberta’s hands? My God, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more to be true.
“Come on Cunty, I’m going to lick you while you do this.”
Before my imagination had even a second to put order to all that was going on, I felt myself placed against the pressure of an 18-year old asshole. The owner of it was a determined young thing. Though her tight ring did not immediately yield, she pressed hard. From inside my tent, I watched as Roberta’s hips slid forward taking that increasingly wet twat away from me and I realized that she’d put her mouth on the anal lover. I knew, because the butthole spasmed and in an instant my cockhead was up inside.
“Oh, my God” the anal girl huffed, “Oh, my God. That’s so fucking awesome.”
Above me, Roberta’s hips started to rock to and fro. As she did, no doubt in response to the rhythm of her oral duties, her swollen pussy was now almost obscene with need. And sure enough, her manicured hand found its way to the twitching hole and filled it with three slender fingers. Despite being the elder in this affair, I was on the brink of losing any kind of authority over myself. The young thing I was sodomizing had to finish quickly or lose the thrill of her ride.
“Cum in me, Professor. Please, please, please make my ass all sticky.” The request was disturbingly youthful and inflaming. And as much as I enjoyed the show Roberta was putting on for me, I so wanted to take in the sight of this little nymph riding me in such a sordid way. But it was not to be. Roberta’s masturbation would be the image that brought me to my end. My hips bucked off the yoga mat and in a spastic routine of flexing, thrusting and shaking, I let Holy Hell loose in that young woman’s ass. The intensity of my salvo was matched by the final moments of my partner’s fuck; she shouted a paint peeling stream of filth but finished in a whispered pool of jibberish. Roberta, on the same schedule, came by clamping her fingers inside her front wall and swirling herself within millimeters of my sweating face. How we did not come in contact in all that abandon, I have no idea.
But after a surreal intensity, it was over.
Told to close my eyes, yet again, there was a quick collection of things and no conversation. The enthrallment of the past hour receded and the potential repercussions of it started chipping through my sated lust. Like a fool, I wondered, “What I have I just done?” As if I’d somehow not been aware of the “adult” choices I could have made, the professional conduct I could have embraced. And pass up what just happened? I knew myself too well and chuckled at the incongruity of my esteemed learning and hedonistic inner demons.
My front door opened, some of the moisture in the air slipped out and so did my guests. Or so I thought. Laying on the yoga mat that the girls apparently decided to leave behind, I opened my eyes and found Roberta looking down on me, her back pressed to the door. She was indeed wearing a toga.
“How come you’ve got that on?”
“Oh,” she said looking down at her outfit, “just a sorority thing.” I smiled but she did not.
“So, Professor Blackburn, the two girls you just fucked? They are going to be in your class this Fall.” She let this news hit me, looking for some kind of response. Despite realizing that Jessica was not one of my partners, I maintained my best poker face. “At the end of the semester,” she continued “I’m going to tell you their names and no matter, what they’ve done on their papers and tests, you’re going to give them an A.” She folded her arms and treated me to her arrogant, beautiful smile.
There was nothing I could do, I knew it. This young woman had me by the balls and there was no choice but to accept that frosty reality.
“Whatever you say,” I sighed.
We looked at each other in the blue night, her eyes sparked by the single lamp that was still on. They dropped from my face and landed on my cock now laying on its side, across my stomach still thick with arousal. She inhaled deeply.
“What I say is: someday I’m going to fuck that thing.” Her chin jutted towards me. “And we’re both going to love it.”
She turned and walked out the door.
In the tiny space of her departure, I stiffened to a point of distraction. The ecstasy of that promise rushed through me like a speedball. But then, with her knack for cruelty, Roberta tossed a grenade into my enlivened lap.
“Remember,” she shouted from my porch, “that picture will ruin you,”.
The car door shut, the seashell drive crunched and I lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling. Was I better or worse than I'd been this afternoon? Would my blackmailer continue to play me or was there something else going on? The thought of us eventually fucking as she’d suggested seemed to be enough to trump just about any potential hardship. But I knew that it wasn’t. I had to turn the tables on this girl or I would never know peace.
As exhausted as I was, I retired to my bed, though I knew sleep would not come.
