Office Hours Ch. 05

Office Hours -- Chapter 5

I'd never had a more intense week, so it was very disappointing when classes resumed and Jenny took her place in the third row tier and kept her knees tightly crossed.

I was so distracted and so horny that I kept my place behind the lectern and repeatedly looked down hoping to catch her switch legs just once. I knew she was doing it deliberately. I mean, who can sit comfortably for 75 minutes without changing position?

Then another student asked a question and when I looked back at Jenny, she had switched knees. My heart fell. She looked at me with those piercing blue eyes peeking through her dark hair as if to say, "Missed me."

I ended up dismissing class early, "That's enough for first day back."

I just wanted to get back to my office as soon as possible.

Which was a mistake. Now I had longer to wait and think before the start of office hours. I had a lot of fuel for my imagination having spent the last week in torture as I had to edge myself several times a day. During my punishment my wife sent pictures and videos of my efforts to Jenny for her approval. And I had to see my wife slowly develop a relationship with my vixen domme, Jenny. Literally, my wife had worn Jenny's cum-soaked panties home from our own dinner date.

It was a miracle I hadn't come even once during all of that. Frankly, I think my wife was sometimes angry I wouldn't give in to my orgasm even for her. But she had set the length of the punishment. I had another week before I could come again. Still, it would be worth waiting, just for the chance to see Jenny's panties again, to smell her aroma again, and to look her in the eye while she told me to take out my dick.

But the start of office hours came and went. Jenny didn't come in. I sat at my desk looking at the clock and listening to the faint echoes of the aging building. I heard footsteps in the distance grow louder only to fade away again. All the time my dick was hard in my pants.

But it wasn't just Jenny who was absent. My wife had told me she would be here today. She had asked me about what to wear -- a white blouse and gray pencil skirt, and nothing else. I knew she was excited about it. In fact, one way she liked to challenge me while I was edging was to share her fantasies of being here and watching my humiliation. Did something come up? Is that why Jenny didn't show? Did she somehow know that my wife wasn't coming today?

Or... was my wife... coming?

Oh, fuck, my mind started spinning. They were both gone. I felt light-headed. Yet, I couldn't go anywhere. I had to be here because these are my office hours but also, what if keeping me waiting was part of the tease or a test of my loyalty. I had to keep my office hours.

I looked at my phone. It felt invasive, and I rarely used it, but I opened the app and I searched for my wife's location.

Not shared.

Shit . She'd gone dark. Jenny was gone. My wife wasn't here and we always share our location. So she had to have turned it off on purpose. The only reason she could have to turn off her location is if she didn't want me to know where she was.

I started to text her.

Then I deleted it. Would I look too needy? Did she want me to panic? Was she waiting for me to say something? If I did, would she see that as a sign I lacked confidence, that I was weak? If I didn't, would she see that as permission? I looked at the waste basket, judging its distance in case I needed to throw up.

My phone pinged.

I opened it. Thank God, there was a message from my wife.

It read, "Hi Professor."

I started to sweat. Jenny was texting from my wife's phone.

Ping.

"Your wife is tied up right now."

I felt dizzy.

Ping.

It was a picture. My wife was bound to a chair. Behind her was white painted brick wall. It looked like a dorm somewhere on campus. She was fully clothed in that same white blouse and gray pencil skirt that I helped her pick out this morning. The ropes crossed over her chest framing each of her perfect bra-less breasts, pushing her pink nipples against the white fabric so they shone through, fully erect. Her pencil skirt was pushed up on her hips exposing her bare pussy. Any thought of her being a victim was quickly erased by her expression. Her eyes were half-lidded and glassy looking up and her tongue was sticking out flat, drooling.

Ping.

"Your devoted wife is reliving her college days."

Ping.

"Take out your dick and stroke it until you're told to stop."

Then nothing.

I did as I was told. I took my dick out, which my pants could barely contain. I was wearing Jenny's panties again, of course. The white ones from last office hours.

At first all I could do was to take my dick out. The slightest touch might set me off. As I gained my senses I began to softly stroke it.

Then I wondered if this was just a tease? It was elaborate but my wife wouldn't see Jenny on her own without having a discussion first, right? Were Jenny and my wife just torturing me? Would they come down the hall in a minute laughing at how gullible I was?

Or was my wife getting ready to put that tongue to use? Was only Jenny with her, or did my wife just meet Jenny's boyfriend? Why was her mouth open? What was it ready for?

Then again, what had I said to her this weekend, "Please, do anything, any... one you want?" I felt sick.

I stopped and slowed my breathing. God damn. I looked at my phone. What did I hope for? Did I want another picture? To know what came next? (Or who.) Did I want to see it? Could I even look at it?

Nothing. I kept stroking slowly.

Maybe it was a joke. They wanted to see if I would call their bluff. "LOL," I'd reply and they'd text right back with laughing emoji, skulls or whatever. That Mr. Cale is so on edge, he's willing to believe anything. Did you really think your wife would go that far?

Still, Jenny never bluffed. She did what she wanted. We did what she wanted. Every time.

Suddenly another thought came. Was it a test? And if it was, had I already failed it? Shit. Was I supposed to stop her?! Did my wife want me to call back and say, "Please, no!" And if so, had I sat here stroking my little dick (shit, now even I was calling it little.) Was my silence was all the permission she needed? Did my wife look back at Jenny holding her phone with questioning eyes? Did she look up from her chair and ask, "Anything?" And did Ms. Anderson slowly shake her head with pity. Did her boyfriend grin and step closer to my wife? Was he now painting my wife's tongue with his thick, white cum?

I stopped again. My mind was so twisted, the only peace I could manage was to do as I was told. Keep stroking until I am told to stop.

Forty agonizing minutes elapsed before I heard footsteps in the hall. They grew closer. They were coming this way. I didn't know if it was another student, or Jenny, or my wife. By the sound, it was only one person though. I put one hand on my desk, picked up a pen, and pretended to write, while my other hand stayed on my dick, straining. It had been so hard for so long, I feared I'd have to visit an E.R.

The steps slowed down as they approached my open door. My wife walked in. She said nothing. She was breathing heavily as if she had rushed here. Her face was flushed. She was wearing the same white blouse and pencil skirt as in the picture -- both a little wrinkled. Her nipples where hard and poking against the fabric.

She stepped in front of my desk. Still, she had not said a word, and then I realized why.

Her mouth was full.

She was struggling to keep it shut. Her cheeks bulged a bit. A trickle of -- saliva? -- leaked from the corner of her mouth. Was she holding Jenny's panties in her mouth as I had been forced to do? My mouth suddenly tasted of metal as I felt my salivary glands seize.

My wife looked down at me, her chest heaving, her eyes watering almost to the point of crying. I could see her make-up was smudged. Her lipstick was smeared. Then I noticed there were stains on her blouse -- drying spots of cum all over her white blouse, soaking in, some thick pearls like beads sewn on. She looked at me for a moment, and then the corners of her eyes crinkled in a wicked smile as she took a deep breath through her nose and swallowed.

I had to let go of my dick.

My wife smiled broadly and opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to show it was empty.

I stood up quickly. I didn't care that my dick was poking out of my fly.

I grabbed the back of her head, leaned in and kissed her. I kissed her deeply. At first she flinched at my ferocity but then she stuck her tongue in my mouth and I tasted him. I tasted the cum she had held in her mouth the entire distance up to my office. Then I licked my wife's lips and I tasted her. I tasted Jenny. I moaned.

My wife groaned too and we began to devour each other. I started to shiver and suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my groin.

I pulled away quickly. It took a second to realize my wife had actually slapped my balls. It hadn't hurt as much as shocked me. I sat down in disbelief.

I looked up at her as she smiled, licked her lips, and shook her head.

She said, "You were about to come."

I understood and nodded nervously.

"We can't have that, can we?" she said.

I shook my head and licked my lips.

"It's really fucking good," my wife said, "Isn't it, my lucky cucky?"

I dropped my head to the desk. It really was. It really, fucking was.

We were about to race to get home when I heard footsteps in the hall. I quickly scooted my chair under my desk because my dick was still poking out and I didn't have time to put it away. My wife stifled a laugh and straightened her skirt and touched her hair reflexively.

One of my other students was actually at the door. Not one of my third-rows but one of the earnest front-row kids.

"Professor?" she said cautiously.

My wife leaned over and kissed me chastely on the cheek -- I could smell Jenny's pussy. "See you at home dear," my wife said as she turned and walked past the student. "Don't be long, dear."

The student looked puzzled by something and actually turned to watch my wife walk away. Then the student turned back to me shrugging off whatever she thought she saw.

I wondered if it was because my wife was prettier than she expected, or maybe it was the cum-stained shirt, the smeared lipstick, the smudged eyeliner, or just the literal smell of sex coming off my wife. But the student said nothing. But likely, as with most of her peers, she was too self-absorbed to notice.

She was concerned actually about her grade because it was just after midterm and she had a B so far. And so I gave her my standard advice and encouragement, all the while trying not to think of my wife in a dorm room while one of this student's peers bound my wife to a chair. And I was left to wonder, how did my wife's mouth get filled with spunk? Did she suck it from Jenny's pussy? Did Jenny lean my wife's chair back and sit on her face smearing it with cum, letting it drip on her crisp white blouse? Or had Jenny's boyfriend been there? Did he help to tie my wife up? Did she struggle? Was that why her makeup looked smudged as her tears smeared her eyeliner? Or was that because his cock was just out of frame as my wife's tongue welcomed his assault on her face -- fucking her mouth, smearing her lipstick, choking her with his cock until her eyes watered -- until he came, spaying her mouth and dripping down her chest?

Or did all of that happen?

With all this in my mind's eye, I had to listen carefully and wait for the student to finish all her stories and tangents. Because my dick was actually sticking out of my pants behind the desk, I couldn't stand up to escort her out and I couldn't do anything but keep my hands on my desk and listen.

My phone pinged. My wife's number. I tried not to look at it.

The student said, "Go ahead, I don't mind."

I nodded and tried to look as nonchalant as possible as I silently read the text, "Home now. I can still taste her on my upper lip. Come home soon or I'll wash my face."

I turned the phone over and I think my voice actually broke like a teenager, "It's uh... a pressing matter. What else can I help you with?"

Not picking up on the cue, the student went on. Finally she got the reassurance she needed and got ready to leave. As she walked out, she paused and asked, "Door open or closed?"

"Open. Always open," I said. But I had to wait for the sound of her footsteps to fade away before I could tuck my dick back in my slacks (and panties) and stand up to close the door.

* * *

When I got home my wife wasn't in the living room. I closed the door and listened but didn't hear anything. I went back toward the master bedroom. I walked in and didn't see her but now I could hear the sound of running water in the sink.

My wife came out of the bathroom drying her face with a hand towel. She was completely naked. She tossed the towel on the floor.

"Too late," she said.

Damn. She'd washed off the evidence of her time in the dorm.

"He's disappointed, poor thing," she said.

I came up to her to give her a kiss but she stopped me with an outstretched hand.

"Strip."

I stopped dead and began to remove my clothes. My shirt. My socks. My slacks.

"Keep the panties on, Mr. Cale."

Fuck. My dick bulged out obscenely against the thin white panties. A little circle of pre-cum had already formed. The panties were practically polka-dotted with dried pre-cum from the day's events.

"Did you like the picture she sent?"

"I was... It scared me... a little," I said.

She nodded, "But you didn't say anything, did you?"

"I didn't know.... what you wanted me to do."

"What I wanted? Or what she wanted?"

I nodded. Of course, it was only what Jenny wanted that mattered to me.

My wife stepped forward and she stroked my face.

"It's OK," she said biting her lip, "Jenny knows what I want too." She reached down to stroke my dick through the panties. "And we all know what you need."

All? I thought. Was she including Jenny's boyfriend in that list?

My wife said, "Would you like to know what happened to me? What your good wife has done for you?"

"God, yes, please," I said.

"Funny you should say that, because this is all I'm allowed to show you." She picked up her phone, found something and sent it to me.

I had to bend over to get my phone out of my pants puddled on the floor. The thong dug into my ass as I fished through my clothes. I lifted up the phone and opened the message. It was a one-second video clip. It played on a loop. It was a close-up of my wife's face. It seemed like she was still bound to the chair. Her eyes were pleading and she said, "Oh, my god, yes, please," as she opened her mouth and licked her lower lip.

My wife had to take the phone from me after I let it play several times. Over and over I listened to her beg and open her mouth and lick her lip. For what? For whom?

"That's all you get," she said, "For now."

"You're... so, goddamn hot," I said.

"I'm so fucking horny," she said, "I need you to fuck me right now."

"But I can't--"

"You can fuck me. You... just... can't... come." She laid down on the bed, she opened her legs and ran her finger between her labia. "I need it so badly."

I pulled down the panties I was wearing and laid down on top of her. She was so wet that it only took a couple of strokes before I could sink in fully.

She grabbed my hips and pulled me tight against her.

"Deeper," she said.

I thrust my hips against her but I was as deep as I could go.

"Deeper, please, I need it,"

"I'm doing-- I'm doing all I can," I said as I wondered if she knew how deep he could go.

"Wait," she said and pulled away from me. She turned around and got up on her hands and knees. We hadn't done doggie style in ages. I kneeled behind her and pushed back in. She felt so incredible. I know I'd been edging but she felt too good. It had been so long since I'd been in her pussy or her mouth. The warmth, the slickness. I had to pause.

"Don't stop," she said and dropped her chest down to the bed thrusting her hips back against me. "Fuck me, deep, please!"

I rocked into her forcing myself to go as far as I could.

"Fuck me, bitch!" she said and literally slapped the headboard.

That killed me. I felt myself about to come. I pulled out, panting.

With an exasperated sigh, she dropped all the way to the bed. She turned her head to me over her shoulder. She looked practically angry. But then she saw my face, and she softened.

"It's OK," she said, "It's a lot, isn't it. You want to come so badly and you have another week. This is more than you can handle."

She leaned forward and stretched out her hand to reach her nightstand. She opened the drawer -- the one I politely never look in -- reached way in the back and pulled out a dildo. She handed it to me.

"Fuck me with this," she said.

I'd used vibrators on her before but this was a fully realistic cock. It was easily twice my length and girth. I had no idea she had one like this.

Slightly abashed I began to move it toward her pussy.

"Get it wet first," she said impatiently.

I looked around.

"With your mouth, Mr. Cale. Get it ready with your mouth."

Tentatively, I licked it.

"Stick it in your mouth and get it wet, so he can fuck me."

He. Her voice was stern but also kind and matter of fact. She was teaching me.

I stuck it in my mouth and began to drool over the tip. It was silicone and so it was soft on the surface and hard underneath. My wife watched me with fascination at first as I stuck the fake cock in my mouth but with her encouragement, "Wetter," I became more enthusiastic and her expression turned lustier.

"How far can you take it?" she said.

I hesitated and then pushed it further in until I started to gag and pulled it out.

"I think it's wet enough to fuck me now," she said laughing. She turned back on her hands and knees.

I pulled the fake cock out of my mouth and placed it against her vagina. I pushed gently.

"Mm," she said.

I felt the head slip past her lips. There was some resistance so I was afraid to push too hard.

Then she pushed back and I saw the entire dildo slowly disappear into my wife's pussy. She let out a long, "f-u-u-u-u-uck," as her ass reached my hand.

"Hold it still," she said as she began to rock forward and back on the dildo. She ground and twisted on it. My hand fought to hold still as she built up momentum.

I wanted to grab my dick and spray my cum all over her upturned ass. I wanted to pull the dildo out and slip my dick inside her and feel how open she was as I sprayed my seed inside her. Instead I held my hand still so she could fuck that dildo while my own dick stuck straight out and dripped useless pre-cum onto the bed sheets.

She cried, "Fuck me. Fuck me deep. Come inside me. Fill me up. Oh, my God, yes, Please!" all while I watched her rock back on that cock building into a frenzy. Was she imagining it was his cock that was pounding into her? "Oh, my God, yes, please," was what she said on the video clip. It was what she was saying now. Did she want his cock? Did she need a cock like this one? Bigger and thicker than mine?

But I was picturing it too. I was picturing that dildo as a real cock plowing my wife and I was also picturing my wife's face pressed into Jenny's lap as the stud boyfriend fucked her hard, pressing my wife's tongue deeper into Jenny's pussy with each thrust. And where was I? I was holding that cock and guiding it into my wife.

My wife came violently pressing her hips hard back against me, literally pulling the dildo out of my hand. Finally, she collapsed on her belly and the dildo slid out. It was coated in her juices.