Professor Winderly's Assignment Ch. 03

Part three: The lessons begin

The next morning, Jim pedaled his mountain bike along the neighborhood streets to Dr. Winderly's home. It was in a part of town that was just now becoming hip again. She bought the house four years ago when she landed the job at the university. A bequest from her grandmother made the down payment possible. Now the neighborhood is gentrifying and much safer for a single woman.

Jim arrived a little early and found a note on the door. "Gone for a run. Back soon." So, he sat on her porch swing and enjoyed the gentle rocking as he read the book he had brought: Augustus Beyerly's Ancient Peoples. It was a bedrock study of gender-specific rituals but was derided by many modern researchers as merely one man's ambition to find as many horny customs as he could and write about them. Sort of like Kinsey was accused of by his detractors.

He had worn khaki cargo shorts but was going commando. After reading how some tribesmen were washed and shaved by their sisters or aunts, he became aware that his cock was peeking out from the hem of his shorts. A drool of pre-cum connected his cock to the leg of his shorts. Jim was caught up in a vision of his Aunt Marge washing his cock and balls when he heard the footfalls on the wooden porch steps. He jumped up with a start and tried to cover himself with his satchel. Too late, she had noticed his awkwardness holding the bag and she surmised what he was covering.

Dr. Winderly glowed from a sheen of perspiration. Her nylon running shorts caressed her ass and hugged her hips. About as tight as volleyball shorts, they showed she had no panties on beneath. She wore a sports bra but despite the layers, it could not cover her nipples. Even though they were not erect, they were meaty and made their presence known beneath the acrylic bra. She seemed bustier than he imagined from her uninspiring wardrobe in class: Jeans and heavy shirts.

"Been hard long? I mean, been here long?" She covered her obvious slip of the tongue pretty quickly by giving orders. "Oh, is that a Beyerly's you have there? Where'd you find it. I didn't know it was still in print." He explained the marvels of interlibrary loans and that this one came from some small college in the mountains of East Tennessee.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower. There is coffee in the kitchen and I have laid out some books for you in the den. Take a look at what's there and we'll discuss your project."

He followed her inside and went to the kitchen as instructed and poured a cup. He looked in the fridge for milk or cream. Instead, there was a box of hazelnut creamer. "Of course." So, he drank his black.

Jim looked around her small house as he drank his coffee. He called to her to see if she wanted her coffee when she got out. "Yes, please. With some creamer." He was looking in the direction of her voice down the short hall and saw the bathroom door ajar. A step to his right and he could see the full-length mirror and naked body in it. She was out of the shower and drying off. She toweled her hair and he saw her uplifted breasts in their fullness. Probably a 34-C, but her nipples were like pencil erasers, long and fat. Her hips flared gracefully to firm and shapely legs. Her pussy was thick but trim, not shaved in the manner of many women these days.

Dr. Winderly glanced in the mirror and saw him, though she could not tell if he was actually looking at her. Still, she moved slightly obscuring the view. Jim shuffled a bit and asked in a loud voice, "Sugar?" He hoped to act nonchalant as if he had not just seen her naked body. His cock was not nonchalant; it was hardening again. Jim reached down and shifted his cock so it would stand straight up. He usually dressed left, but if he pulled it upward maybe the zipper material would hide any pre-cum that might leak. He was a prolific leaker.

"No, I'm good with the cream." She wondered if Jim would catch about the double meaning of creamer. She, who was so knowledgeable about all manner of sexual rituals, had very little first-hand knowledge of her own. She didn't flirt and didn't catch a pass when it was offered to her.

It's true that in her field research, she had participated in many tribal rituals but only ones for virgins. She could reel-off the details of male penis cults but hadn't taken one into her deepest openings. She covered her innocence with the air of authority she exhibited in class. She tried to keep her feelings at bay by erecting a wall of severity around her. With Jim, it was more difficult. So, she put him down, called him Dummy rather than by his first or proper last name. And though they were only four years apart in age, she tried to make the distance a canyon between them.

It had been easier when she was herself in graduate school. Alec Heidler, her major professor, had such a calm and detached manner, he made it possible for her to explore almost any sexual subject without getting lost in her own embarrassment or passion. Heidler took all his students through the same kind of readjustment training she wanted to take Jim through.

The year she started in his lab there were three G.A.s who went through a weekend of sexual attitude adjustment. It was Heidler, a male GA, Dee and another women. The Friday session began with the recounting of how they learned about sex. Before the night was over, he had elicited secrets Dee had not dared utter even to her best friend. On Saturday morning, they watched a lot of fucking: horse breeding in a controlled setting, then zoo animals. By the afternoon, Heidler had shown six very explicit porn videos. They covered the gamut from straight and gay/lesbian sex to BDSM, to fetishes involving feet, pissing, and cum swapping.

On Sunday Professor Heidler had the students talking about performing some very intimate acts. He never violated any of them. The point was for them to learn their boundaries and to push through them. From him, she learned self-control and detachment. She mastered herself and was able to talk to him frankly about her thoughts and habits. Later in the semester, Dee masturbated thinking of him, then told him all about it in precise clinical detail, how she had visualized him, what she imagined him doing to her, how wet she got, and how her orgasm developed. Nothing was left out. It was just a set of clinical observations, only she was her own study subject. She and her fellow grad students that year talked about the hottest sex acts as if they were describing how to cook a pot roast. It was precise, accurate, and sterile. By the end of the last semester each of them masturbated in front of their professor as he watched patiently. It was sort of a final exam proving they could live in the experience yet remain clinically detached and comfortable in their own skin. It was how she learned her craft and how she would teach Jim.

The way to the den led past the bathroom. The door was still ajar. Trying to be a gentleman, as he passed, he turned his head to the right examining a block print on the wall. He caught the trace of something in the air. Ulysses had it easy sailing between Scylla and Charybdis compared to the siren just on the other side of that door.

Dr. Winderly noticed him pass and was slightly disappointed he did not try to steal a look. "Of course" she thought. "Dummy. He probably would not know what to do if he burst through the door. Just as well, I guess. I wouldn't either." She continued to get ready as Jim made his way to the next room.

He sat on the leather couch. Setting his mug to his left, hers to the right, he examined the stack of books on the low table. They all had authoritative titles: Physical affection and sexual attraction; Male sex rituals among aboriginal tribes of North Africa; Naked and alone: Early rites of coupling. Seed worship and fertility rituals among ancient peoples. And in the stack was a bound dissertation. The thick black tome had showed a simple gilt title on the spine: Sex and tribal ritual: Introduction and practice. And just below was her last name Winderly. Little did he know then how much the drab book held. Only one familiar with teaching and scholarship would know it contained the exploration of what she had referred to in class. That is to say, her belief that to understand a subject you had to literally live it.

He flipped the heavy book to the end. Where the book fell open, it revealed a precise pen and ink drawing of a woman in what seemed to be ceremonial garb. She was kneeling with her hands resting between her thighs, bound by a leather cuff. Because of it was a drawing he could not tell the material. She appeared to have an ornate belt around her waist with a drape covering her sex. Thin coils wrapped around her upper arm like a constricting snake. A similar ornate collar circled her neck and throat. Her hair was pulled back into a knot and clasped with the same kind of intricate metalwork. What he could not keep from staring at was how her breasts were thrust outward. Because of the way her hands were bound and between her thighs, her elbows squeezed toward each other thrusting her breasts forward.

The woman's breasts were perfectly shaped and her fat nipples were long and hard. She had a bit of a smile on her face. HER FACE! "Oh my god! It's Dr. Winderly!" Jim realized. He gulped for air.

Turning the page he found another perfect drawing of another costumed woman. He was sure it was Winderly, too. This time the woman wore a knotted cape, designed not to cover her but to frame her perfect body. Perhaps a regal mantle, he thought. Another collar, but this time woven of cords or wires. A crown sat on her head made from natural materials, nuts, vines, feathers. A single plait ran from the collar between her naked breasts and down to the jeweled shield over her groin. The woman's face was turned three-quarters. It was her image again. He stared at her luscious breasts.

He was aware that his cock was now straining to climb out of his jeans. He wished he had worn underwear to help hide his obviously engorged penis. Being seated helped him conceal his erection, but did nothing to ease the pain he was in. He could feel the tip of his cock worming its way to the belt of his shorts. His balls ached. He was about to rub his cock and adjust it again, when he heard Professor Winderly cough lightly.

She had been watching him as he looked at the images. "I just look at them for the articles," mocking how men explained their reading of Playboy.

He slammed the book shut and stammered something of an apology.

"No need, Dummy. It's is part of the research. It's for science. So, if you want to look, look. Consider it an investigation."

"This is the heart of our work," she continued. "To be immersed in the act and to be able to describe and discuss it with others. So, you are going to have to get used to this. I had to get used to it. You can too." She doused the quick flash of the indelible instruction Alec gave for her to masturbate in front of him and the others. She could not indulge herself now.

Now that she had his attention, she began to order him. "Open the dissertation again. Go ahead flip to the appendix again. I believe you were there in the ceremonial section. Tell me what you see there."

Jim swallowed hard. "What I see?" She nodded but did not speak, waiting for the silence to cause him to talk.

"What I see is a beautiful woman in different kinds of situations."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder Dummy. It's a conclusion not an observation. Tell me about the image. Describe what you see." She wanted him to be detailed in his telling and not to leave anything out. He stammered but could not complete a sentence. "Okay, let me help some. Maybe this will be easier. Something a little closer to home for you."

She took out another book and flipped to pictures of naked men. Their cocks were in various states of arousal. Some were incredible specimens, long and smooth, their foreskins pulled back revealing a bulbous head. Others were shrunken small and still others were full but not hard.

She asked again, "Tell me what you see."

"Uh, naked men?" He paused hoping she would go on. She did not. "And their...uh.. their things are like in stages of erection."

"Their things? Say the words, Dummy. Big boy pants, now. We are two adults. You can do this."

"Uh, ma'am. I was taught to be polite. And this seems sort of, well, inappropriate."

She was exasperated. "Okay, let's break this down. When I point to something, you just tell me what it is. Use any word that comes to mind."

She picked up a thin perfect-bound book and turned to a full-page image of a man whose cock was hard and stood out from him vertically. The weight of it held the tip away from his stomach, but it's hydraulic pressure made it nearly plumb.

Jim considered himself straight, but when he saw such pictures as he was cruising Internet porn sites, he stopped. He kept a file on a thumb drive and would drag the images of great cocks to a file he had. He did not know why he could not turn away. Something must be wrong with him, he thought. He jerked off to pictures all kinds of pictures over the years and lately had been fantasizing about cocks. And here was this gorgeous cock facing him from the page.

His heart started beating hard and his breathing became ragged. A hollow feeling invaded his chest. He felt lightheaded for a moment.

"You okay, Dummy? Here, drink your coffee." She held the book open and handed his coffee to him. He took his eyes off the page long enough to get the cup to his mouth. The warm liquid did not help him with his anxiety. It was body temperature.

He looked again at the image. At the end of the man's cock was a bubble of something. It was pre-cum. As he swallowed the coffee, an image of him licking the pre-cum off that cock came into his head. He gulped the coffee.

"Okay. What is this?"

"A foot, he said cautiously."

"And this?"

"A knee."

She kept pointing out parts of the model's body. His ear. His jaw. His chest. An arm. A nipple. When he said that Jim blushed.

She touched the photo on the model's balls. "These?"

"His...testes," he said softly.

"I'm sorry what did you say?"

"Um, his testes."

"Very scientific. I would have called them his balls, but testes is okay too. And this?

"His penis."

"Yes, Dummy. And what do you think about that penis?"

Without thinking, he blurted out, "It's gorgeous!"

He could not take a breath fast enough to cover his truthful slip. "I mean it is engorged."

She had him. She knew he liked what he saw, but was too shy to admit it. She would break him further before it was all over.

"Yes, it is a gorgeous cock, Dummy. I must admit you have an eye for beauty." He felt the mockery sting him like a whip.

"Oh, but what is that at the end of that gorgeous cock? See that there?"

She brought the book up closer to his face so he could not see anything but the cock and its silver liquid pooling at the end. "Yeah, that right there. Oh wait. I have another shot of that. It might be easier to see."

Turning a page there was a close-up of the cock from a side angle and the pre-cum was drawing down about three inches from the opening. Jim swallowed hard.

"Tell me, Dummy. What is that?"

Jim could not speak. He just stared at the cock in the picture. Absent-mindedly his left hand came to his lap and he covered his own rigid cock with it.

Dr. Winderly snapped at him, "What is that? I asked you? Don't get all horny on me when I am asking you a question. Tell me what is going on in that picture. I am losing patience with you, Dummy, and you either do as I say or you can get out of my house and my life and find another dissertation advisor."

He snapped back at her. "It's pre-cum. He's ready to cum. His balls will shrink. His cock will pulse. He'll shoot his shit all over the place." He spat the words at her in spasms.

He was boiling mad. But Dr. Winderly smiled at him. She went back to her dissertation and flipped to another image of herself. This time it was a color photograph. In it she was dressed in a loosely arranged grass skirt covering her only her front. Her fine ass was displayed. It's soft cleft closed to cover her rosebud anus. She had woven hat on her head. Her hair was longer then and plaited down her back. She was bare-chested. Her left breast was visible and her nipple was firm.

"What do you see here?" She was cruelly provoking him as she hissed the questions. "This?" "This?" "This?"

"What's wrong? Are you too horny and turned on that you can't talk? Is your tongue as hard as that cock of yours, Dummy?"

He was seething. His embarrassment had turned into rage at her insistent prodding. "Alright, bitch, if that is how you want it..." he thought.

"What do I see here? Well, I see a bitch dressed up like a tribal whore. She has her big ass out advertising how she likes to take; Up the ass. Or maybe she wants someone to lick her ass before plowing it. She has hard nipples like she wants them sucked and bitten. She is so ready to be fucked. And I am just the guy to do it to you. Do you want me to fuck you? Is that what this is all about Dr. Winderly? Huh? Happy now?"

He was breathing very hard. Sweat formed on his brow and the cup quivered in his hands.

Dr. Winderly never flinched at the display of such powerful emotions. She was not afraid but was, in fact, happy that he had such feelings for her. If she were ever to have a man, she would want him to do the kinds of things that Jim was obviously thinking about.

Dr. Winderly breathed calmly, taking her time to answer. In a quiet voice she said, "Yes, I am very happy, Mr. Doumay. You did it." She said his name politely.

"Did what? You got me so pissed off, I can't think straight."

"You opened up a little. You let your guard down some. For the first time, you weren't so guarded and polite and nicey-nicey. You made contact with the subject and with me."

"Jesus. Dr. Winderly. What the hell is going on? I thought you were supposed to be my teacher, not some dominatrix."

She liked the choice of words. "He must know something about BDSM, too," she thought. "No, he was not that experienced. Probably just jerked off to pictures."

"Dummy, I'm sorry to be so rough on you, but I am going to keep being hard on you until you can stand on your own two feet and talk like an adult about sexual topics."

His head was down and he was shaking it slowly from side to side in disbelief. A wall had broken down and he did not know what was on the other side. He was looking at the picture of Dr. Winderly in the grass skirt, still. He looked up at her and gave a crooked smile.

"I hope I didn't offend you. You are very pretty in this picture."

"Thank you, Dummy. No I am not offended. It's not every day a student has to look at his professor when she is naked. I have to admit I did it on purpose. I wanted to see how you reacted under pressure."

His eyes stared into hers.

"Let me ask you something. You were embarrassed when you came down the hall and I was standing in the bathroom. You tried to be a gentleman and not look. Am I right?"

He nodded.

And when I came into the room and saw you looking at my pictures you felt ashamed, didn't you. Like you'd been caught doing something naughty."

Again, he nodded in agreement.

"And then you got angry and it all came out."

His head was cocked like a dog trying to locate a distant call. "And all the while you had a hard on, didn't you? You liked the naked drawings. You liked the image of Alec's cock standing up so proud and you liked the side view with that lovely pre-cum dripping down. Am I right?

"Yes, ma'am. I admit it. You've got me."

"I don't want to get you Dummy, I want you to see that your emotions are very powerful and in the context of sex, they are fluid. I mean it doesn't matter what you were feeling over the last fifteen minutes, all along you were getting lathered. That is an important thing to know. You need to be able to look at nearly any sex act or fetish or pleasure and locate the complex of emotions wrapped up in them. As scientists we have to be detached. Aware of our emotions without letting them control us."