Teaching the Professor Ch. 04

I was home early that afternoon. No appointments and I found myself staring at the walls of my office, so I left and enjoyed a nice, leisurely drive home without my fellow commuters. While at a light, my phone buzzed--a text from my wife: "C U at home. If u try anything, I won't say no."

That's interesting, I thought. She doesn't normally start things, so I figured I'd better take advantage of the opportunity. I played out some ideas over the rest of my drive home, and my dick told me which ones to go further with. At home I had a drink and a shower, then waited. I recalled the few times that she did start us up. Usually, we ended up going pretty far on those night, and some of the times we probably went too far: breaking furniture, being talked to by hotel security--good times. My mental review of our rare sexual exploits was interrupted by the sound of the garage door. I took up my position by the mud room entrance.

She opened the door and dropped her bag on the bench just like every other day. She shook her long brown hair loose and looked around. Was she looking for me? She seemed to be sneaking into the house - she ducked a little and tiptoed past the little alcove I was in. She stopped by the entryway closet and hung up her jacket, and that's when I pounced.

I snuck up behind her and grabbed her wrists, pulling them down behind her. She jumped and yelled at me. "What the fuck are you doing?" I didn't answer, I just pulled her into me, her hands on my zipper, her shoulders bent down. This pushed her small but perky tits out. I attacked her neck, kissing and nibbling and licking her earlobes and along her jaw. She relaxed and lolled her head to one side, giving me better access. I brought my right hand to her right breast and kneaded it through her bra and blouse. "I asked what you were doing..." she purred.

"Taking you." I replied.

I pushed her forward to the dining room table. I pressed my hard cock against her lovely ass and slid my hands down her sides to her waistband. When I unfastened her slacks and dropped them to the floor, I discovered her lack of underwear. I was completely shocked. My cock grew two sizes as I imagined how horny my wife must be to lose her panties between work and home. Since all the blood had drained from my head to supply my erection, I didn't imagine other possibilities. "No panties, huh? You're quite the slut today." She flushed but didn't say anything. I didn't really need her to.

Within seconds I had kicked off my sweats and was rubbing my cock against her vulva. She was swollen and wet and certainly ready. I plunged into her.

My dick's pretty average but today it felt like a Louisville Slugger. Still, I slid into her easily. I knew this wouldn't last long but it didn't need to. All I wanted to do was pound her mercilessly right here in the dining room.

"God, baby." I groaned. "You weren't kidding about not saying no today." I buried myself in her slit up to my balls and held myself there.

She moaned and pushed back against me. "Shut up and fuck me." she ordered. I did as ordered, mostly. I didn't shut up, nor did she.

"I'm not going to shut up." I replied. "I have to keep my slut wife in line, you see." I slapped her ass after I bottomed out in her. She groaned and writhed as I did it. "I'm going to fuck this beautiful cunt right here, as hard and as long as I want, and you can't do anything about it except lie there and take it." I spanked her again. "You obviously want it."

"Unnh...yes...I want it." She hissed. "I'm your slut wife and need to be punished. Hit me...harder." She grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands and spread them and then let them slap back together. I pulled out of her entirely and planted my hand across her ass hard. The slap rang out in the small dining room. When I drove my cock back into her, I could see the red handprint on her ass. "YES!" she shrieked when I spanked her that hard. "OH, GOD. Oh, Terry! I'm your whore. Use me. Use your dirty whore wife!" I couldn't believe the words coming from her mouth. It was so erotic to hear her talk like that. I could hardly stand it and knew I would come soon. I kept pounding her pussy with as much force as I could. The table slid jerkily across the wood floor as we fucked.

"Whores... need to be shown... who's boss." I told her as I spanked her increasingly red ass. "I'm the boss, and I'll put my cock in this hole whenever I want. Isn't that right?" "Mmm-hmm." she uttered through pursed lips. "I'll use your cunt...or mouth...or ass..." I let that hang in the air "...whenever I want. Is that right?"

"Oh, YES!" Cynthia cried out, collapsing on the table. I continued to pound her for several more strokes. "I'm going to give you my come now, slut. Sluts get a load in their dirty cunts. Get ready." I hammered her with my cock.

"Come in me!" she swore. I did. Pulse after pulse I shot into her, and she milked me dry. After some time, I pulled out and started to walk away. She dropped to her knees and took my cock in her mouth, gently sucking me and licking me clean. I left her there on the dining room floor because I remembered something else about our previous hot encounters. She had been apologizing to me, and to counter her guilt she put on quite a show. This was guilt sex.

I wasn't ready yet to look a gift horse in the mouth. Our night of amazing sex continued and we both woke the next morning rested and happy. I was strangely worried only a little about why yesterday happened. We had a long, strong, stable marriage and I chose to think there was a simple explanation. My need for that explanation faded over the next week as we both rejoined our daily routines, with one exception. Where we had never had sex more frequently than three times a week (very rare), I was surprised to find us in bed every night. Well, "in bed" isn't quite accurate: we were also in shower, on table, on floor, and one night in car in our garage. I couldn't have been more pleased, and my concerns about her change in behavior sunk deeper and deeper, until the next Saturday.

I'm the domestic at our house. I cook most of the meals and do the laundry. As I was separating the hand washables I noticed I couldn't find those silky cream-colored panties that Cynthia hadn't been wearing when she came home the previous week. I looked around the closet to see if I had missed them, but they definitely weren't there. And they were new. So somehow my wife came home without her underwear. Where did she remove them? At work? On her way home? Somewhere else? Furthermore, did someone else remove them? Take them? Did she give them away? I felt the color fade from my face. I didn't want to jump to the conclusion that she was having an affair, but it seemed inescapable. I had to confront her.

I took her to dinner at a really nice place that we had been planning to visit. We had a great time. I was surprised at my poker face. After a wonderful dinner we returned home, I fixed some drinks, and we sat out on the porch and enjoyed a relaxing evening. I waited until we had adjourned back inside before asking my question.

"Cynthia? Who has your panties?"

The house was silent. She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. Her eyes were round and began to well up. She sat on the couch and started to sob. I took her in my arms. She told me everything. She started with Kate and the missing underwear. She continued with the story of the first trip, where she met Kate, and the second trip, where Kate and her friends made her a part of their erotic game. She finished by trying to explain that she never meant to do any of it and just found herself doing things she never wanted to but couldn't stop. She repeated her love for me and commitment to our marriage and regret for keeping secrets but she was lost in trying to reconcile her controlled and responsible daily persona with this wanton and permissive person Kate brought out of her. In fact, Kate had sent that text from her phone telling me to try something with her. It was all a part of her games with Cynthia. I held her and she cried for a long time. I didn't say anything. I would have expected to be angry, but I wasn't. I loved her, and she loved me, and clearly what was happening to her had nothing to do with what wasn't happening in our bed.

Well, maybe a little. Obviously, she wasn't having female partners at home, nor groups of college students. But neither was I, and I had always been open to this sort of thing. We had talked about it as a couple, curious about multiple partners and crossing gender lines, but we both, we both had admitted we were concerned about the potential for problems or later awkwardness. We both also had a frumpy streak that kept us from acting out these fantasies, but certainly not from having them. Except now she was acting on them. What had changed her mind?

"You know," I started, tenderly, "the only thing that upsets me about this is that I wasn't with you when you explored these things. Nothing makes me happier than learning more about you, especially learning things that excite you or make you happy. I'm not angry that you've done them. I'm upset that you felt the need to keep it from me."

"How can you not be angry? I've been having affairs for three years and lying to you about it? You should be furious." She pulled away from me a little.

"First, I don't think these are 'affairs'. You aren't trying to escape our marriage or hurt me. I've never suffered because of these things. What I see is that you were put into a situation where you explored yourself and learned things you didn't know about yourself. To me, if you bring this knowledge to our relationship, and we grow stronger and happier together, this is positive. I have always wanted nothing more than to be with you, and this tells me more of who you are. But I do wonder why you changed your mind and decided to try these things after we decided together not to."

She looked the floor. "I don't think I changed my mind. If they had asked me if I wanted to be a part of an orgy, I would have said no. Everything about that first time was wrong--I was inappropriately fraternizing with students, I was straying from my marriage. I would have been in serious trouble if I had been caught. And yet...that seemed to make it even more irresistible. The second time was worse. I had no idea what was going to happen, and still I...submitted..." her voice trailed off.

"That's it, isn't it, Cynthia. You submitted." I suggested after a few seconds of silence.

"I think so. It wasn't the choice to do these things, or the things themselves. Kate is a strong persuader, and I just wanted to please her for some reason. Every time this happened, I kept thinking about all the reasons I shouldn't be doing what I was doing, and there were more than enough. But reason didn't stop me. The more she pushed me the more I wanted her to keep pushing me." She swallowed. I realized we had shifted closer together on the couch.

I looked at her. "You've always said you wanted to leave the responsible decision maker at work when you came home. I know you hate being in charge when you're not at work. Maybe this is a logical extension of this. I just didn't know how far it went."

"I didn't know either." she pleaded. "And I am afraid I don't know now." We sat quietly in the dark now that the sun had set.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do." I said firmly. I took her hand and placed it against my rising cock. "We're adding this to our life together and we'll explore this together. I was never mad at you when you were telling me about these wild sexual encounters you were having. But I was hard. Imagining you that way was incredibly sexy and I want to see you for real that way. But I need to be a part of it." I stood up and took her hand in mine, leading her to stand. I circled around behind her and took the zipper of her dress between by fingers and slowly tugged it down. Her black sheath slid from her shoulders to the floor, pooling around her ankles.

"No panties, I see. Is this becoming a habit?" I asked as I trailed my finger down her spine to her black strapless bra. I unsnapped it and dropped it as well.

"No, I just don't like lines in my dress." She stood facing away from me, into the dark living room.

"I would support that habit." I said, and she giggled. "But right now, you're not wearing anything but stockings. And I'm going to take advantage of that. You see, I've been listening to you describe yourself bent over your desk being fucked by a girl with a strap on. I've had to picture you licking the pussies of two girls while being doubly penetrated by two college studs. I'm imagining you, blindfolded while your ass is fucked by a man you can't identify. And it's got my cock raging. It's time for your husband to experience what these boys and girls are getting, don't you think?"

"Well..." she started. "I don't see anyone else around, so I don't know how that's going to happen." I slapped her ass as hard as I could. She gasped.

"DON'T be a smartass, dear. You need to understand who is in charge here." There was an uncomfortable silence. Had I gone too far? The answer was a quiet "I understand." from my wife's lips. Her head bowed. I reached around to pinch her right nipple. I pinched it hard. I heard a sharp intake of breath. "Do you want this?" I asked.

"Mmm-hmm." she replied, weakly.

"That's not a good enough answer." I waited for her response.

"Yes." she offered. "I want you to do to me whatever you want." She had said this to me countless times, but it was always light and noncommittal. Her voice showed she understood what she was saying and what it really meant.

"Good. Now go outside back on to the deck. Walk over to the corner and lean forward against the railing. Look away from the house. I'm going to come out and fuck you from behind." I undid my belt. She hesitated. "Are you worried someone will see you?" I asked. She nodded. "Well, let me fix that problem." I pulled off my black socks and knotted them together and fashioned a blindfold, which I tied around her head, covering her eyes. "I'm not worried about anyone seeing you, and now you won't know if anyone sees you anyway." I took her hand and led her outside to the deck rail. She leaned over and grabbed for the deck rail. I spread her arms and legs so she was a little off balance. I touched between her legs and felt her wetness. I licked my fingers in front of her and said "And the thought of it clearly works for you. I'm going inside now, and I'll be out later." When Cynthia complained, I slapped her ass with the belt. "I said wait!"

While inside I poured myself a bourbon on the rocks. After a few minutes of watching her through the glass doors, I quietly stepped outside and sat in one of the deck chairs, not far from her, but deep enough in the shadows that no one could see me from the street. Anyone who made any effort, though, would be able to see her from the street, completely exposed.

"So. How are you feeling?" I asked.

"A little cold, actually." She replied.

"Do you mean 'exposed'?" I followed up.

"Yes."

"You are right in that anyone could see you here." I sipped my drink. "I can just see it--one of the women from the neighborhood could be out for a walk and see you out of the corner of her eye. She'd stop, do a double take, and wonder 'Is that woman naked?' And then she'd wonder who you were. Aren't you the woman who has that beautiful garden? And then she'd wonder why you were out there. Are you playing some kind of weird sex game? Her husband would never do that with her, though she thinks she would like it. Maybe she should go see if you're OK, you know? Just walk up the stairs and see how you were doing. She'd see the blindfold and then think twice about asking. She'd see your hard nipples and start to feel an itch deep inside her, something she hasn't felt in years, since she was in college. She'd start to feel a little flushed and inch closer to you. She wants to touch you, to fill an old void. She misses a woman's touch. Her hand strays to her sweatpants and slips inside the waistband. She wishes it was your hand. She wishes she could taste you, satisfy that longing. She decides to take the chance and reaches out for the curve of your ass, when a car passes by. She snaps back to reality and steals back down the steps. You'll never know how happy she made her husband after she went home, and he'll never know why his wife was so ready for him."

Cynthia twitched and moaned. "Are you going to just leave me here?"

"No, dear, but I'm going to take my time. I'm going to use you at my leisure and take what I want from you when I want." I replied, finishing my drink. "Of course, it might not be a neighbor lady who sees you. If it were a man, things would likely take a different tack. He'd see you and think 'Holy Shit!' and come closer to the deck. He'd feel guilty and look around furtively, but still try to get a better view. He'd quietly climb the deck stairs and see you in all your glory: black stockings from your ankles to your delectable ass, naked from your thighs on up. He looks around again. His cock is growing.

Surely someone knows you're out here, he thinks. He waits for a few minutes, ogling you, expecting your pissed-off husband to come outside any minute. You think you hear someone sneaking around on the deck and ask who's there, but he stands stock-still and doesn't respond, not wanting to give himself away. He's starting to think crazy thoughts about what he might do if he just had a few minutes. He thinks you're incredibly sexy and can't believe the show he's getting. The longer he stands there the more erect he gets. He's uncomfortably hard now, watching your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. He looks around again and steps forward, closer to you. You hear his zipper and tense up.

"Hello? Who's there?" you ask, scared in principle but sure it's just me playing games with you. He whispers back that "It's just me." hoping that he can sound enough like whoever he's supposed to be that you won't ruin his luck. Now he's feeling brave. He reaches out and cups your breast. You gasp. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back. The hands on you feel a little different than mine, and you're not sure if it it's me who is touching you or not, but you trust me. Your trust is stretched soon when you feel the head of his cock against your cheek.

You pull away but can't completely escape. His cockhead bobs around after you, hitting your nose and chin and lips. You resist, but soon the pressure and the desire is irresistible and you take him in your mouth. Your hands are occupied on the deck rail so you follow him as he sways back and forth. Soon his hands are on your head and he's pushing himself in and out of your mouth, into your throat, gagging you slightly but you don't stop. You suck him hard and can feel him swelling even further. You wonder when the last time you had a cock this big in your mouth. It can't be me, you think. Suddenly he pulls away. You feel his rough hands on your ass. They spread your legs further. He palms your cheek and roughly scrapes his thumb along your cleft from your asshole to your pussy..."

At this point I took up position behind her and began to act out what I was describing. "His thumb traces circles around your pussy and then slips inside." As I entered her, she pushed her full ass back against me and moaned. "He hooks his thumb inside you and presses against you. You're so horny, feeling this strange man molest you in your own backyard. You wish he would get you off. His hand is strong, so powerful, so commanding, and he's pressing against your most secret places, as if he knows exactly what to do to make you come. But he doesn't. He slips his thumb out of you and traces it back up you, toward your asshole. You tighten up when he first touches it, but he's so slick that he slips inside you. It drives you crazy. Your pussy isn't empty for long, though. Soon you feel his hardness against your pussy and with a mighty shove he enters you to his full length. You cry out and clench around his thumb. He's got such control of you now."