Shudder - The College Years Ch. 04

Professor Charles Kendrick pulled into the garage of his nice house, got out of the car, and went inside. From the garage, he stepped into a small entryway connected to their spacious kitchen. He allowed himself a moment to get his bearings, as if orienting himself to his surroundings for the first time. When he moved forward, he did so quite slowly. He continued to look around like someone cataloging every cupboard, every drawer, and every magnet that was on the fridge. To a third party, it would have appeared that he had just gained entry to a strange house, even though he had lived there with his wife for 7 years now. This was strange, yes, but stranger was the fact that with one free hand, he was constantly stroking a throbbing erection through his black dress pants.

Professor Kendrick had achieved tenure at the university two years prior. He was established, well respected, and possessed a keen intellect. But at the moment he just wanted to find a couch so he could sit down and attend to the place where the majority of his blood seemed to be congregating. He was so horny. As he looked through his memories, he couldn't recall feeling this turned on since he was a teenager. He often had reason to be aroused these days. He knew he was a subject of lust for many of his female students on campus. He was shamelessly flirted with every semester and propositioned to have an affair with at least one of them each month.

Kendrick knew he would have succumbed too many of these advances had it not been for the ravaging beauty of his wife. Constance Kendrick, or Connie as she was called by friends and family, had been a former student of his as well, and the only one he would have risked his career for. Behind her looks was a sharp mind that challenged him in class and made him question the narrow way he had begun to look at the field of genetics and molecular biology. She had shown up during his office hours to further debate him over various scientific articles or papers that he had accepted as fact long ago. She stretched his understanding of what he knew and in many ways made him fall in love with his work again. He asked her out the day she turned in her final paper for his class. She had said no. When she saw his defeated look, she told him she would not date a professor until she had graduated and still had one more year to go. Sensing hope, he waited. He approached her shortly after her graduation the next year. The professor was not hopeful of his chances, as he knew she had several other potential suitors out there, but she had surprised him by asking him out on a date the moment he found her.

The highlights of their courtship briefly flew through his mind, but he was only half paying attention, like one would with a movie playing in the background while doing a puzzle. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down feet from the couch. In his haste, he had forgotten to remove his shoes and struggled to kick free of his pants. He lost his balance but was able to let the downward momentum propel him onto the soft couch cushion. He laughed boisterously, finding the whole thing very amusing. If only his distinguished colleagues could see how he was behaving now. Finally free of the pants, he removed his underwear, then flipped his tie over his shoulder.

Kendrick's eyes studied his erect phallus like it was something not of this earth. His hand, the one that had almost constantly fondled it over his pants, now reached forward tentatively. When contact was made, skin on skin, his member pulsed at the touch. He lightly stroked the head, then let his fingers slide down the shaft. He then pulled it one way, and then the other, as if testing its flexibility. He moaned softly as he found its limits. Then he stopped and looked at it again. He seemed to be choosing his next course of action. After a few moments of introspection, he bent his neck forward and thrust his pelvis upwards on the couch. He looked like someone attempting to do a sit up for the first time. He also looked like someone attempting to suck his own dick, which in truth, was what he was trying to do. His thoughts told him that this was futile, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The professor was so engrossed with this crude experiment that he failed to hear the entrance of the other occupant of the house until it was too late. "Charles?" his wife's voice rang out shrilly. It was clear that she thought something was wrong as she strode quickly towards him.

Kendrick panicked and quickly flattened himself. He knew how ridiculous he must have looked, ass in the air, head bent towards his dick. How much had this woman seen? Could he lie his way out of it? He struggled for an excuse in his mind, anything that she might believe.

As he lay quietly and quickly thinking, flat on the couch, his wife had approached him and her eyes raked over him. Her good looking and well mannered husband had his tie over one shoulder, a dress shirt on, no pants or underwear, and a sizeable erection. "Charles?" his wife said again, but this time much quieter, and with a tinge of amusement. "Care to explain yourself?" She waited patiently while her husband didn't say anything, but just seemed to look at her. His eyes focused intently and lustfully, stopping at her sizeable chest. She felt like he was trying to undress her with his gaze alone. She knew that look, but had not seen it this strong in him before. He wanted her, badly.

The professor finally found his voice and rolled the dice in favor of the truth. "I was trying to suck my own dick. One of my students said they had gotten drunk and was able to. I told him it was preposterous, but, well here we are." Then he smiled at her. She laughed loudly, such a nice sound. But then her eyes met his and they sparkled with intent.

"You know," she said, carefully getting to her knees, "it works better if you have someone else do that for you." His eyes grew wide as saucers when she said this. It was as if he had never had his cock sucked by her before. She often let him take her three or four times a week, more if he was so inclined. She offered herself to him however he wanted. He was a good man and a proficient lover, always helping her climb the mountain to a satisfying climax. But the way he was acting she found very sensual. Her husband exuded innocence mixed with surprise at her implication that she was about to take him into her mouth.

He tensed as she lowered her mouth and licked the tip of his sensitive head. To her delight he moaned, but, why had it sounded like a woman's voice? She continued to lick around his dick, but looked up at her husband. Their eyes met and he let another moan escape his lips. This was more masculine sounding, but seemed forced somehow. She thought it odd, but went back to the task at hand. She loved how he seemed to react to even the tiniest of stimuli as her tongue slid up and down and her hand began to fondle his balls.

Connie was about to bury his cock in her mouth, when the oddest thing yet happened. Her husband's body began to shudder. She could feel it in his balls, where her tongue was licking his cock. She looked up and saw it was his entire body, and then as fast as it began, it had stopped. She stopped as well, and her face filled with concern. "Charles? What was that? I know you like a good blowjob but..."

"It's...it's nothing," he panted. "Please, don't stop. It feels so good, so different..." He reached a hand to her head, something he never did, and moved her mouth over his cock again.

He wasn't forcing her, but strongly guiding her, and she liked it. She swallowed his cock into her mouth and began sucking for all she was worth. To her amazement, his hand flew off her and he cried out in surprise. She wondered what was happening now, but understood as his hot seed filled her mouth, almost causing her to gag. She skillfully pulled her mouth off his with a satisfying pop, and swallowed his load. She smiled at him and teased, "What is with you today? You never cum that fast when I give you head."

"I, uh..." her husband stammered. "You just, you look so beautiful today." And she did. Her face was beautiful, golden blonde hair shimmering and cascading around her face. His eyes drifted down to her ample bosom, her cleavage on display at this angle. His eyes then fell upon his shriveling cock, willing it to get hard again. "How long till we can, uh, go again?"

She laughed that same wonderful laugh he had heard before. "Go again? Usually you're just a once a day guy."

"It'll only work once a day?" he said with a pained, disappointed glance at his flaccid penis.

"Hey," she mocked lovingly, "that's your problem, not mine. You know I'm always up for more."

The professor looked at her hopefully. "Do you think, maybe, we'd be able to do it later?"

"What has got you so in the mood today?" she asked as she straightened up. "Did a beautiful college girl throw herself at you before leaving for break?"

The professor thought back to an encounter he had earlier that day with a former student named Felicia. No doubt she would have sucked his dick as well if he had let her. He surmised it still probably wouldn't be a good idea to bring up that fact with his wife. "Uh, no, just, I don't know. You look really good and, well, it felt amazing."

"You always think so," she smiled. "Maybe if you take me out someplace real nice, when we come back I'll put on one of your favorite outfits and we'll see if you can work yourself up for a round two."

"That long?" he said with an edge of disappointment.

"You're hilarious, dear. Now excuse me while I go find some mouthwash." She sashayed out of the room, and the professor sat up to get a good view of her ass as it left. It did not disappoint.

Connie quickly found the mouthwash in their master bathroom, and rinsed out her mouth. She was grateful that her husband had latched on so quickly to her idea to go out. Usually at the start of a class break he just wanted to come home and watch television. He would give himself to hours of mindless entertainment, something he said he deserved after inspiring intellectual minds for weeks on end. She loved him, but she missed the times they had spent talking and challenging one another. At least his sex drive hadn't diminished since they had gotten married. She assumed that was in part due to the constant attention that he received on campus from his growing fan base of college girls.

Of course, Connie had been one of those college girls. Now, though, she was making her own way and obtaining her own fan base. After graduation, she had been poached by a pharmaceutical company that had seen her high academic accomplishments, but had also read her thesis on genetic coding and how it could be used to potentially eradicate certain diseases. It was mostly theoretical, and some of what she proposed was borderline unethical, but scientific advances and breakthroughs were opening up new possibilities every day. Her hard work and intelligence had secured her a corner office plus access to a killer laboratory to begin extensive testing on her proposed theories. She had found certain limitations right away, but it did not stop her. She loved pushing those limits, and was excited to think that given enough time, there might not be any.

Connie put thoughts of her career aside as she put on a black dress that clung to her in all the right places. Tonight she would focus on her husband, who was definitely acting strange. She did up her hair and makeup, and when Charles saw her, he just gaped at her in a cartoonish fashion. She was used to being ogled by men, including her husband. But usually after Charles had gotten his rocks off he tended to ignore her for a time. He seemed to be being genuinely sweet, which he was...just less so these days. She wondered if he, or maybe both of them were experiencing the seven year itch.

"Is that what you're wearing to go out?" she inquired.

"Oh, uh," Charles stammered. "No? I mean, what would I usually wear when we...oh, never mind. I know just the thing."

Nancy's mind was trained for research and spotting similarities and differences. She observed and studied and made notes all day. What she was observing now was her husband acting most peculiar. She followed him as he got ready, talking about her day while she watched him closely. She noted that every routine thing he did, there was a pause that preceded the action. When he went to shave, it was like he had to think about it first. When he went to put on his aftershave, put on his tie, find his nice shoes, everything took a beat to do. It was almost like all these things were momentarily foreign to him, but after a pause, he did each thing with a practiced ease.

Connie's rational mind assumed this behavior was all due to her husband's work load, that he probably needed a break as much as his students did. But it continued throughout the night. When she put her hand on his arm when they got in the car and ordered him to take her to their favorite place, he had needed several seconds until he smiled and pulled out of their driveway. It hadn't been like he was reminiscing of all the times they had spent at that restaurant, but rather like a man trying to remember a place he should have known about but lost in the recesses of his mind. She was over thinking things. She always did. She tried to just focus on having some more time with her husband this next week. But shortly after they had arrived at the restaurant, her husband asked a question that sent all of her thoughts into hyper analysis mode.

They had been comfortable. They had both been seated by a server, and had just been poured a glass of wine. She had requested it, his favorite, and he had acted like he had never had it before. He hadn't sniffed it or swirled it like he always did, but had sucked it down like someone pounding shots at the bar. It was in that moment of ease that he had looked at her and asked casually, "So, where are you from?"

Connie's eyes had narrowed at this. She looked at him closely. He had not asked it jokingly. He had asked it as someone who honestly did not know. She began to wonder if there was something medically wrong, like a brain aneurysm or the beginning signs of senility. He of course tried to play off the question as a joke. But it had been obvious to her that he was now lying to cover up a truth.

The rest of their meal together involved mostly stilted conversation. Every time Connie referenced a topic that was relevant to their lives, she had to wait longer than usual for him to weigh in. The only time he had been quick to respond was when she brought up the current political climate. He had jumped in quickly but his opinion seemed to go against everything she had ever known him to stand for. When she questioned this, he recanted quickly and again said he was just making a joke. She began watching him like he was under one of her laboratory microscopes now. She was observing every bit of his behavior, including the fact that one hand seemed to be going to his lap a lot, and then move around. Was he touching himself? Come to think of it, why did he seem so horny all of a sudden, or at least, hornier than usual?

On the ride home she decided to delicately broach the subject. "Honey, are you okay? Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Charles gave a half hearted chuckle. "Everything is fine. I'm sorry if I'm...not my usual self. I just, uh, it's been a long semester."

"Maybe we should have an early bedtime tonight. I still need to go to the lab tomorrow to..."

"You still want to have sex though, right?" he asked with the pitiful amount of desperation.

Connie didn't immediately know how to respond, and watched as her husband fidgeted uncomfortably, waiting for her answer. It was as if he needed a hit and she was his drug of choice. "I...I mean, we can, if you're up for it? I thought maybe you'd want to just, I don't know, watch a movie and fall asleep since you seem to be... so out of it." She had wanted to say acting like a confused mental patient, but didn't think it wise.

The professor was excited. This stunning woman was going to let him have sex with her. These thoughts overwhelmed him as he parked the car, walked in the house, and began taking off his pants.

"What are you doing?" she asked, staring at him as he kicked the pants off onto the floor.

"You said we were going to have sex?" he said shyly. The professor saw that his wife was giving him that look again. That look that said she knew something was off, she just didn't know what exactly. He had tried to respond quicker to her questions, there was just so much information to process, and it all took time. He had done his best, and he felt he was in the home stretch. They would have sex, it would be a once in a lifetime experience, then they would sleep, and the next day it would all be over. The thoughts of regret that it might soon be over surprised him. Did it need to be over so soon?

His thoughts were interrupted by her sweet laughter as she presented the back of her dress to him. "Unzip me please." His hands shook as he moved the zipper of her dress down, watching as goose bumps appeared where his fingers grazed her back. He made to pull the dress down, but she spun around quickly. "Give me 5 minutes stud, and then meet me in the bedroom."

The professor held his breath as she walked past him. His thoughts flew to what might be waiting for him in that bedroom. All through their dinner, he had been going over memories of their sex life. His wife could be very creative, kinky, imaginative and playful. He had found his hand drifting unconsciously towards his ongoing boner throughout their meal. He had not known the male penis could be so troublesome. It was like, just the thought of a naked woman could be enough to spring it to life.

He looked at his watch. It had only been a minute. It was like time was running in reverse. Did he need to wait the whole 5 minutes? Maybe just two more would be enough. He tried to steady himself so as not to appear too eager, but the thoughts in his head about what could be awaiting him made that very difficult.

Connie stepped out of the dress in their bedroom. She sprayed a cloud of perfume and walked through it, then approached her chest of drawers. She was in the process of choosing which negligee to entice her husband with, when the door flew open. He was on her in seconds, pulling her into an embrace, his hands seemingly all over her at once. His behavior was almost animalistic She felt herself moisten at his need for her. Before thoughts of lust took over however, she noticed how he unhooked her bra. It was not with the usual struggle that it always was when he attempted it. He had never been good with bras. But this time, like a seasoned pro, or like one who had worn one many times before, his hands deftly and delicately unhooked the clasp.

She almost asked him right there who he was and what was really going on. But the foolishness of the question and the fact that his mouth went to her tits drove the interrogation from her mind. He was sucking them ravenously. He continued to suck and fondle and grab while pulling her to the bed. When his legs found the edge, he turned them both around before pushing her onto the soft surface of the mattress. He pulled down her panties and then...stopped. Connie was panting, ready for him to take her and she wondered why the hesitation? Then she realized he was doing what he had been doing all night long. He was trying to think of how best to proceed. It was like a watching a virgin trying to figure out the mechanics of putting it in for the first time. She took the lead and gingerly grasped his hard cock, positioning it over her pussy. He seemed incapable of thinking in that moment as she grabbed his butt and pushed him slowly into her. By the sound he made, she thought he came the moment he entered her. He hadn't though, had just been very pleased, and started an awkward thrusting. It was like he couldn't find a rhythm, much like the rest of the night.