Office Hours Ch. 04

Of course just as things were escalating, we had a break at school. So, I couldn't see Jenny in her usual seat in the third row riser, exposing her panties to me. That is, when she felt like giving me a show. When she felt like torturing me.

Now I had to wait a whole extra week and wonder whether in the next class she would keep her legs open or closed -- whether they would be clean or soaked with her lover's cum.

And in that time, I replayed those office hour sessions in my mind where she would continue the tease. I imagined the aroma of her pussy dripping on my leather couch, as I hoped to lick it clean. Or I imagined the texture of the fabric of her panties against my tongue mixed with the taste of her boyfriend's cum and her pussy.

I imagined all that as I followed Jenny's punishment -- delegated to my wife -- and edged myself every day. Previously, Jenny had my wife edge me, but now I was on my own. I wondered if that was meant as a punishment for me or a reward for my wife.

On the first day of break, I heard my wife gasp from the kitchen. She saw me come in with the questioning look, looked up from her phone and said, "Oh, it's a text from her."

"Jenny?"

"Ms. Anderson, Mr. Cale," she said.

"Yes, sorry, Mrs. Cale."

We found ourselves switching more frequently to our honorifics. It was how Jenny referred to us. I was 'Professor' or 'Mr. Cale.' My wife was 'Mrs. Cale.' And Jenny was always 'Ms. Anderson.'

I said, "Can I see?"

My wife thought for a moment and texted back. The silence hung between us for a minute until we heard the ping from her phone.

My wife dropped her hand down and shook her head. "She says this is just between us."

And now 'us' meant Jenny and my wife. I felt sad because -- I don't know -- I had a thought that Jenny was my friend. But, we all knew that wasn't true. She was my tormentor. She was my Domme, if I were honest. There were intimacies she would never have with me.

But as the text conversations went on, I felt that it was part of Jenny's diabolical approach. She was strengthening their partnership. Now that Jenny had my wife's number (in so many ways) they continued developing their connection. To my knowledge, Jenny never called my wife but they did exchange messages frequently. And it wasn't lost on me that even though Jenny could have easily gotten my number, I received nothing.

And seeing that connection grow, seeing my wife have a secret connection with another person, simply fueled my desire to get their attention. It might have been my own narcissism to think that Jenny or my wife were doing this deliberately to extend my sexual anxiety, to further humiliate me. It was better than thinking they were forming a real bond -- one I would never be able to form. The effect was the same either way. I was determined to do anything to please them. I woke up thinking of how to please them. I went to bed thinking of how to please them.

That impulse started with my consequence for coming without permission at the last office hours. So, I would at least start the day with edging and end the day with it, at the very least.

The first night, my wife walked in on me.

"Are you playing with yourself, Mr. Cale?"

I froze. It felt like being caught doing something dirty even though I knew they demanded it as atonement.

"Keep going," my wife said as she took a seat in the reading chair in the corner and began to watch me -- legs crossed under her skirt as she let her foot dangle provocatively.

But my erection began to flag.

"What's the matter? Is he shy?" she said. "Do you need some help?"

Somehow, masturbating for just my wife felt strange. I mean, normally if we were horny, we'd be rolling in the sheets. With Ms. Anderson, I never questioned her instructions. But my wife hadn't taken that dominating tone with me -- not until Jenny showed her the way.

Our office hours had awakened something in my wife -- an old lust. One she thought she had put behind her with the exchange of our wedding vows. With Jenny dominating us, my wife had become bolder with me. She liked adding to my torture. And my current flagging state was revealing that I too needed more than our old vanilla sex to get me going.

"I wonder if you just need a different inspiration," my wife said standing up. She walked over to the side of the bed. She looked me in the eye and began to pull up her skirt. Slowly she exposed her silky pink underwear. The filmy fabric barely covered her hairless mound.

I felt the life begin to return to my dick. My wife smiled. Maybe she even felt flattered knowing it wasn't just Jenny's pussy that could stir me.

"You like looking up women's skirts?" she said. "Unfortunately, this pussy isn't getting filled by you anytime soon." She slowly traced the cleft of her vulva. "But maybe you can make these panties sticky in a different way."

She hooked her fingers in the straps and slowly began to slide them down her legs. She bent straight over at the waist for effect. When the panties got to her ankles, she stepped out and lifted them up. Her skirt stayed bunched, exposing her whole smooth vulva to me. Her labia were pink and delicate. I pursed my lips, thinking about licking her. She held out the panties to me dangling off one finger. Then she let them drop onto my lap where they landed on the tip of my dick.

"Why don't you use those to stroke yourself?" she said as she turned to walk back to her chair. She didn't bother to pull down her skirt, so it slid slowly down her ass as she walked away, covering one cheek and leaving the other exposed. It was so fucking sexy.

As she turned around and sat down, I began to use her panties to stroke myself. I'd already started to get hard again, but using the cool fabric, knowing that they'd just hugged her pussy, and feeling the intoxicating effect of her boldness, I began to lose my self-consciousness. I could feel the slight dampness at the gusset and even could smell the light aroma of my wife's arousal.

I increased my tempo, sliding the smooth fabric over the head of my dick, watching the pre-come seep through.

I heard the 'snap' sound effect of her phone's camera and looked over to see her tapping on the screen. I heard the 'send' sound as she was, of course, sending pictures back to Jenny.

"Ms. Anderson demands evidence of your compliance," she said.

My breath came faster as I realized I had no privacy even here in our marital bed. My wife was giving Jenny a peephole into our private life.

There was a ping. My wife said, "She says, 'The dignified professor.' There's an eye roll emoji."

I had to stop stroking immediately to keep from coming. My dick twitched under the taught fabric as a bead of cum flowed up.

She said, "Wow, that didn't take long after all. While you take a break, you can suck that clean, then you can wear them the rest of the night."

For the rest of the week I wore my wife's panties, even though we didn't have office hours where I would have to prove to Jenny I was wearing them. My wife would slip out of a frilly pair at night and hand them to me, "For tomorrow."

She giggled as I struggled to get the thong situated or to keep my hard dick inside. Then she'd take a picture and send it to Jenny. I never heard directly, but sometimes my wife would say, "Ms. Anderson approves," or "Needs more lace," or one time, "I thought he was small enough to tuck inside?"

That one made me wish for a moment that I could stay soft enough to make the panties look prettier on me. And it's not like I ever wanted to dress in women's clothing. Being a sissy wasn't my fantasy. Yet, I wanted to make them happy and seeing me like that -- vulnerable and embarrassed -- really seemed to please them. And I would do anything if I thought it would turn them on.

My wife started to enjoy "catching" me at edging. After the second day, she simply demanded it whenever it amused her.

"Do it now," she said the first time while we were watching TV on the couch together. "Don't stop until the show is over."

I started to pull my pants down, but she stopped me. "No, just take it out. We don't need to see your body."

The thought that I was now performing for Jenny behind the camera would bring me to the brink quickly. My wife waited a minute or two when I was thoroughly over-sensitive. Then she reached over and rubbed her thumb over the crown until my leg began to quiver.

Then she let go, wiping her thumb on my slacks. She said, "Start again."

On the third time, she recorded a video for Jenny. She said, "See how his legs shake? He can only use his fingers to lightly stroke or he'll burst."

I moaned.

"Oh, Ms. Anderson, he looks so pathetic, can't we let him cum this once?"

She sent the video off and when the ping came back my wife simply shook her head.

I began to long for half-hour shows.

"Tell Ms. Anderson what you're jerking off to," My wife said another night. She had her phone out with the lens directed at me.

"I..."

"Don't be coy now. That ship has sailed," my wife said as she pinched her nipple through her blouse.

"I'm picturing you going down on Ms. Anderson's pussy," I said.

"And is Ms. Anderson's pussy full of cum?"

"Mm hmm."

"What's that? We didn't hear you."

"Yes, it's leaking her boyfriend's cum."

"And you're so desperate you'll jerk off right in front of me as you picture me licking up another man's cum from another woman's pussy?"

"Yes... oh fuck..."

I had to let go of my dick again. My wife laughed. She reached over and ran her finger over my sensitive head, rubbing the cum around. I groaned and had to count breaths to keep from coming. It was agony. I wanted more.

My wife reflexively raised her hand to stick her finger into her mouth, but she stopped herself.

"I almost forgot," she said. "Ms. Anderson gave me new instructions. I can't eat your cum anymore."

"What do you mean?" My heart raced. "Ever?"

"She didn't say, but for now that's the rule. But you can." She stuck her finger in my mouth. I sucked off the syrupy pre-cum for the camera.

Is it possible for your heart to sink and soar at the same time? Even though Jenny was going to deny me the pleasure of seeing my wife swallow my cum, I got the pleasure of doing it for them both. And I wondered if Jenny had other plans for my wife's mouth.

"You like that?" My wife said, "I wonder if Jenny's boyfriend's cum tastes as sweet." She gave a mock gasp. "But wait! You know. Is his cum better than yours?"

I dropped my head. Then I nodded. At least I preferred it.

"Oh, yummy," she said.

Then she sent the video.

This went on all week. Sometimes with me describing what I imagined, and sometimes as my wife described her past sex life while I ate her out. It's the most sex we'd ever had in one week even counting our honeymoon. And I didn't get to come even once. My wife came several times a day. (Also more than she did on our honeymoon.)

One night in bed, after I'd finished edging myself again for her amusement, my wife curled up next to me and gently stroked my chest. Perhaps the dim moonlight from the window inspired her, but she began to talk quietly in my ear.

"I've told you a few stories of my past," she said.

"Yes?" I said. "I love them."

"Remember my roommate? The one who my boyfriend fucked next to me in my dorm bed? The one he had me clean up after?"

"Fuck, yes." How could I ever forget?

"After that night, even though I hadn't broke up with him, she became his primary fuck. He loved it. What man wouldn't? To have two women fighting over his cock? But she kinda took over after that first night. One night we were getting ready in the bathroom for him to come over. She had just come out of the shower and I was putting on my makeup in the mirror. She caught me looking at her naked body. She had a hummingbird tattoo on her inner thigh. Its beak pointed right at her pussy with a little bit of its tongue sticking out."

"She stroked the tattoo and said, 'Do you want some nectar too?' I shook my head, but she said, 'Come here,' pulled me in and kissed me deeply. Then she put her hands on my shoulders and pressed down."

I sighed as my dick began to stir.

My wife said, "You need to edge again."

I moved the covers so she could see my rising dick. I began to stroke it.

She said, "Every other time I'd eaten her out my boyfriend had come in her first. But today she told me, 'Why don't you get me ready for his cock?'"

My wife sighed. She said, "That flipped a switch for me. I just... couldn't help myself. I licked and sucked her so enthusiastically, she finally had to push me away. She said, 'That's enough. He's going to love how wet I am.' I stood up and looked in the mirror. My make-up was a mess. I started to fix it, but she said, 'No, leave it that way. He'll love it. Trust me.''

I was on edge already, picturing my wife's face smeared with her roommate's pussy juice getting her ready for their "date."

My wife said, "She had me greet him with a kiss, so he could taste her pussy on my face. He looked at me and then at my roommate. He said, 'This is new. I like it. Did you get her pussy ready for me?' I nodded and licked my lips. He asked if I wanted him to fuck my roommate. I told him, 'Yes please.'"

"He had me strip and show him how I got her ready. He told me to rub myself while I was going down on her. My roommate told me that from now on, this was my job, to get them both ready for fucking and to clean them both up after. I loved it."

My wife started to masturbate next to me. She said, "That's how I know why you love it. But we can't both be submissive in our marriage can we?"

"We can maybe take turns," I said trying to control my tempo.

My wife shook her head, "You've never dominated me dear; that's just not in you. I love making you do things, but it's so much hotter when Jenny does it. And neither of us can resist her."

I shook my head. But how long could our affair with Jenny last really? What would we have once she left school, or if she simply lost interest in us?

My wife said, "And have you ever thrown me over the couch and fucked me 'til I screamed? Or pushed me to my knees and fucked my face until I gasped for air?"

"No, do you want me to?"

"If you did, I'd probably laugh."

I started to react and she patted my chest, "No, don't take that wrong. It's just not who you are. You are this." And she looked down at my hand lightly stroking my dick, trying to do everything but come.

She said, "But my roommate and my boyfriend, they made me do everything. That night after he had fucked my roommate, my boyfriend was getting hard again watching me clean up her pussy. He started rubbing my ass where I was bent over with my face in her lap. I started to squirm under his touch, opening my legs for him. But my roommate said, 'She doesn't get your cock in her pussy anymore.' I tried to protest but my tongue was still slurping so it just sounded like a moan. But my roommate said, 'But her mouth is always open for you,' and..."

My wife paused as she was starting to work herself up to her orgasm.

My wife pressed her cheek against my shoulder and whispered, "She told my boyfriend that he could only have my mouth... and my ass."

Then she came hard biting my shoulder gently.

In the dark, I could see my wife's eyes shining. "He took my ass that night. He was mercifully gentle and she made me look my roommate in the eye as he slowly worked his long cock into me for the first time. She praised me for being so cooperative and then, when I started to push back against him, she praised me for being such an eager slut."

"Oh, fuck," I said as I let go of my dick right at the brink.

My wife lightly slapped my chest and said, "Even now you can't come for me? Even when I tell you how I gave my anal virginity away? Or how I came to love it?" She lifted herself up to look me in the eye. "From then on, he only fucked my face or my ass."

"I want to come for you so badly," I said.

"I know. I know. That's how badly I wanted his cock in me. That's how badly I wanted to suck his cum from her."

I shivered. And then a thought came. "So, when you and I started seeing each other?"

"There was some overlap, yes."

"So, if he wasn't always coming in your pussy.... when I was eating you out--"

"Well, with him not able to come in me, I needed to find other ways to... give you what you needed."

My head was spinning. "But then..."

"Go to sleep dear, if I tell you any more tonight, you won't survive it."

She kissed me goodnight and I lay awake another hour, wishing I could have known then what I know about the both of us, and picturing what that would have been like. She was right. I wouldn't survive another story that night.

We went out on a date night. Usually we have a regular spot but tonight my wife wanted to go somewhere more intimate. Like I said, I would do anything to please her, even going to a restaurant that was a little indulgent on a professor's salary. (Truth be told, my wife could afford it easily with her work, but we stood on ceremony.)

She'd reserved the table for us, so the hostess walked us to a cozy booth in the back. My wife sat in the seat with her back to the wall, leaving me to sit with my back to the restaurant. She smiled brightly, her skin glowing under the candlelight. I began to scan the menu.

I worked out my meal and looked up. She wasn't looking at the menu. She noticed my expression.

"I looked ahead when I was booking the reservation," she said.

I nodded and said I was thinking about the filet and she nodded but she seemed distracted.

"Is everything OK?" I said.

"Just ready for the wine," she said and smiled as the sommelier came up behind me. I left the wine choices to my lady and deferred even the cork as the sommelier decanted for us. I was feeling more and more out of my element.

Then I heard the ping of my wife's phone. She glanced at it and then glanced up past me. I started to turn around.

"Don't," my wife said, "Don't turn around. Keep your eyes on me, Mr. Cale."

My heart immediately began to beat faster. I knew immediately. Jenny was here. She was in the restaurant. They had set this up. Was she going to join us? Would her boyfriend be with her? I could feel my upper lip begin to sweat.

My wife reached over and patted my hand.

"It's fine, don't worry," she said. As I began to turn, my wife pressed down on my hand. "No. Ms. Anderson says you can't see her. It would not be appropriate for the Professor to see his student outside of office hours."

Suddenly, I felt as if every eye in the restaurant was on me. I saw my wife staring at a single spot that I knew must be Jenny at her own table. She was likely with her own date. My wife's face reacted and then her eyes dropped shyly and then back up to that spot. Jenny had caught her eye for certain. My wife was blushing.

"Is she...?"

"Alone?" my wife said, "No. There's a man with her. Don't worry, she won't ask anything of you here."

That emphasis on 'you' struck me immediately. Shit. What had Jenny planned?

Then my wife said, "Take your dick out."

"What?" I whispered in a panic.

My wife just gave me a stern look. I reached down and gave a little sideways look (not too far) to make sure there was no one right next to me, I reached down and unzipped my pants. I looked at my wife and she simply nodded. I reached in and slid aside the crotch of the panties I was wearing. With one last look at my wife, I sighed and pulled out my dick. Between the tablecloth and the dim lighting, I was sure no one could see me, but I still scooted closer to the table.

"Is it hard?" she said.