The Production Manager

"The Production Manager, or, A Love Letter to Sabine"

I was waiting for the elevator on my way back to my office after teaching my freshman seminar when the email came. It was the perfect email to read in the elevator: a mass notification about something I didn't really care about and wouldn't need to respond to. "Production manager," was the subject line, and it came from the staff person who ran the college's theater with an iron fist.

I walked onto the elevator as I read. "With mixed emotions, I'm writing to let you all know that Amy Souza (the college's production manager) has accepted a new position." I frowned. I didn't do much with the theater, but Amy was lovely. She was a college alumna, a few years past graduation, and she was unfailingly competent. Better yet, she clearly had a crush on me and beamed whenever she saw me. It was always nice to have a twenty-five-year-old try to flirt with me when I saw her in the halls. It was nothing ever inappropriate, and she was so young I'd never responded with anything other than friendliness, but I'd still miss it.

The elevator dinged and we arrived at the floor with my office. Before I opened my door, I poked my head into the office next to me, where my closest colleague Sabine worked. She smiled. "Good morning, Carl," she said, and gestured for me to sit in the comfy reading chair she'd bought to spruce up our otherwise rather spartan university offices.

Well, given the audience here, I may as well drop the pretense. Sabine was indeed my closest colleague and my best friend, but she and I were also having an affair. We both had "don't ask, don't tell" arrangements with our respective spouses, in which we were allowed to fuck other people on the side as long as our partners didn't find out about it and neither did anyone else. Sabine and I had been taking advantage of our arrangements with our respective spouses for three years. I'd recently read the description of Martha Washington's granddaughter by the early American architect Benjamin Latrobe that reminded me instantly of Sabine: She possessed "more perfection of form, of expression, of color, of softness, and of firmness of mind than I have ever seen before or conceived consistent with mortality."

Which is to say, Sabine had layers. She was smart and curious, a good academic in research, teaching, and service, which is how we professors are judged. Her colleagues liked her because she never dragged out a meeting just to hear herself talk, and they respected her because when she did talk, she asked generative questions and made important arguments. Students loved her, and she had a coterie of them who adored her and followed her from class to class. Everyone who met her could see how pretty her face was--her high cheekbones, her enormous brown eyes that had mysterious dark blue rings around the outside of their irises, her thick brown hair, her light freckles. And her body! There's no other way to put it: Sabine had fantastic tits. Her curves went on for miles, first her melon-sized breasts, then the soft curve of her belly, then hips and an ass I loved to grab. Right now, she had on a black jumpsuit with buttons that ran from her crotch to her cleavage. It made her look like a sexy car mechanic, and it was one of my favorite of her outfits.

Below that layer--the one anyone could see if they looked--was the one I was privy to. Relatively few people got to know how intense, supportive, and loyal a friend Sabine was, and how much fun and joy she brought to her friends' lives. And fewer still--although it wasn't a tiny number, because Sabine delighted in her sluttiness--got to see her without clothes, or to enjoy her sexually. To see Sabine naked was like looking at a prehistoric goddess. In comparison, the cute women I'd often slept with before looked like mere girls or porcelain dolls. Sabine left no question that she was a woman. Her full breasts were like ripe fruit. Her thick thighs and hips drew ones eyes to her sex. She tended to keep her pubic hair waxed into a tight and trim triangle, little enough so as not to get in the way of the oral sex she loved, but present enough to advertise and emphasize her womanliness. While we fucked, I liked thinking about how she'd had a child. One day she'd shown me pictures of her when she was pregnant--her child was already a few years old when we'd met--and watched me hungrily as I masturbated over them. She really liked watching me jack off, and one of the things we liked to do was watch porn together. That day when I jacked off to old photos of her instead of to porn was a special treat for both of us. My eyes had devoured her boobs swollen to the size of basketballs and her taut and round swollen belly. I had imagined laying her on her back, that belly stocking up into the air, a pillow under her ass, her legs up on my shoulders, and my filling up her cunt, stretching her, as I took in all her curves. But beyond how she had looked when pregnant, when we were fucking, I liked thinking about how her body had fulfilled its purpose and performed the act that epitomized womanliness.

But it wasn't just the view, or how she represented a sexy fertility. The next layer down was how much Sabine loved sex. She was voracious and insatiable. One weekend when we were traveling for work and thus away from our spouses, I'd made her come 17 times in 24 hours. She came on my fingers and on my face, but she liked most of all coming on my cock. Her favorite position was to ride me on top, grinding her clit into my pelvic bone as I fucked up into her, grasping her hips tightly and lifting her up and down on my cock. But 17 orgasms in 24 hours wasn't because I was necessarily an especially good lover. She came amazingly quickly and easily (although it also helped that I am the opposite and it takes a lot to make me come). But when I was at the top of my game, her orgasms were like fireworks. Her eyes rolled into her head and her cunt would contract so much it would expel my cock from it. Cum would gush out of her, soaking whatever was below. There was no better feeling that when she rode me to orgasm, squirted, and I could feel her juices running down behind my balls. No, that's not true. The best feeling was when my face was between her legs and I made her squirt on my face. I loved how she would gush what felt like a half cup of liquid, and, thirsty for her cum, I would gulp it down.

But it wasn't just her body that made Sabine such a good lover. She was also experimental and pushed me to try new things. The curiosity, generosity, and adventurousness that I valued in her as a colleague and a friend made her a good sex partner, too. She was a switch, and she'd had a previous affair in which she very seriously Dommed a man, but with me she played the sub. She begged me to whip her with my belt as foreplay, and to grab her by the neck when I filled her cunt with my cock. I was reluctant at first, but I got aroused by the sound my palm made when I spanked her ass or slapped her face, and I came to really enjoy devising scenes to dominate and control her. She was the first woman whose ass I'd fucked. When we looked at porn together, she saw how much I liked cumshots, and she knelt down to take my cock in her mouth while I stood and let me cover her face in my cum--another first for me. Later, she begged me to degrade her by taking her to the shower to piss on her face. But these are all, perhaps, stories for another time.

Sabine and I also really liked dirty talk. While we fucked, we kept up a steady patter, egging each other on. We described what we were doing and how it felt, and we challenged each other to describe porn we'd watched or to recount sex we'd had with others in the past. We also really enjoyed fantasizing about others while we fucked. One of our favorite things to do was to fantasize about threesomes. Sometimes it was a particular person--the red-headed student worker at the front desk who favored low-cut, tight shirts that showed off her substantial cleavage; or the willowy blonde fellow professor, a former model, whose small breasts Sabine hoped would fit entirely in her mouth; or Sabine's slutty grad school roommate with an English accent and apparently few inhibitions--but often it was about the activity, not the person. My fantasy was that Sabine and I would dominate a pretty young ingenue, with Sabine apprenticing her to be a good lover; Sabine's was the opposite, that she would be dominated by me and another woman, made to sit tied in a chair while she watched us fuck, and then used as a mutual sex toy between us.

Normally in a story like this, I'd say that I was thinking about all of this as I sat down in Sabine's office--in a chair we'd fucked in more than once--but that's not actually true. I was trying to make a habit of not thinking about sex with Sabine when I was in her office. Thinking led to doing, and we'd agreed that it was probably a bad practice to keep fucking while students and colleagues were right outside the door. We were bound to get caught one day, and we worried about the smell that lingered deliciously but incriminatingly when Sabine squirted on her desk or floor, even after we cleaned up. Sabine was the best smelling person I'd ever met, and for the day after she came in her office, it would smell intensely of her. Of course, we weren't always good about keeping our clothes on, but we were trying. So, no, I wasn't actually thinking about sex just then. Instead, I was considering the email I'd send to Amy about her departure from the college. Was it too much to say I was "devastated" that she was going? Probably. Heartbroken?

"Did you see the email about Amy Souza?" I asked Sabine.

"Yes, but I'd known it was coming, because of Dagmar." Dagmar was the president of Sabine's fan club, another recent grad who had spent years trying to turn Sabine into some sexless cross between mother and girlfriend. (To be fair, Sabine was very good both at being a girlfriend and at being a mother, so who could fault Dagmar for her fantasies?) In pursuit of this, she'd insinuated herself into Sabine's family life, partially by being an able and always willing babysitter for Sabine's kid. She was also Amy's roommate.

"Do you know when she's leaving?"

"Soon, I think. Maybe early next week?" Sabine somehow always knew more college gossip than I did, partially because despite having graduated, Dagmar still knew and told her everything.

"It's too bad," I said. "She's so competent and friendly."

"You just like the way she flirts with you!" Sabine said, smiling. "That girl has it bad for you."

"Ha. I'm just glad I'm a man and that students having a crush on me is flattering, not threatening," I said sincerely. Dagmar had told Sabine about how I was objectified by a group of students, who apparently had taken a college publicity photo of me and turned it into a dirty meme. But I was a middle aged white man, and nobody doubted my expertise or that I was supposed to be at the front of a classroom. College coeds tittering over me was fun and flattering a way that it could never be for professors with less privilege. And it was safe as long as I stuck to my firm policy of never messing around with students or former students. I kept to a strict look-but-don't-touch policy.

"You know," Sabine started to say slowly, as if trying on an idea, "I wonder if Amy is our answer."

"The answer to what?" I asked, confused.

"Our third." Sabine slowly turned the idea over in her head and decided she liked it. "We know she'd jump you in a heartbeat. Neither of us ever taught her, and we've only known her as a colleague, not a student. Now that she's quitting and leaving the college, maybe we should proposition her."

"What about Dagmar, though?" I asked. We always knew that Dagmar would be devastated and confused if she found out about us, and that in her upset she'd tell everyone, and both our colleagues and our spouses would find out. "If I were a 25-year-old or whatever Amy is, and I was propositioned by two 40-year-olds I worked with, right after they told me they were having an affair, I would tell everybody. And you know what a disaster it would be if Dagmar caught a whiff of..." I waved my hands back and forth, Sabine's and my way of naming without naming our affair.

"Yeah, telling people would surely be part of the fun of a threesome." Sabine considered some more. "Well, we just need to make it explicit that we're telling her a secret she can't tell Dagmar. I think she's so in love with you that she'll do whatever you tell her. And I'm not sure how much Amy tells Dagmar about her dating life, anyway. She probably has other friends she can crow to."

I was trying to be cautious. On one hand, Sabine was right: Amy was someone we knew was interested in me, who seemed to be relatively stable, but--soon--not someone we worked with, and not a former student of either of ours. But on the other hand, she was really young, and she was really enmeshed in college networks as both an alumna and an employee. And could we really trust her not to tell Dagmar?

Sabine decided to try to convince me. She smiled flirtatiously and dropped her voice to a whisper. "You know you want to. I want to. I want to watch you fuck her. God, I bet you'll ruin her for other men." I reached out to make sure the office door was firmly closed. Sabine continued: "I'd like to sit beside her, cupping those small breasts while you stretch out her cunt."

"You could reach down while I'm fucking her and play with her clit." I picked up the fantasy. "When she comes, we can reposition her on her hands and knees, so I fuck her from behind and she can go down on you."

Sabine stood up, walked around her desk to where I was sitting, and knelt at my feet. She was staring at the bulge in my pants I was now sporting. I put my hands in her thick hair and pulled her head back so she looked up at my eyes. "You are very bad," I said, both meaning it and not meaning it. She purred, both agreeing and not agreeing.

"Sir, I think I've had a good idea," she said coquettishly. "May I have a reward?"

While I considered, she reached up and unbuttoned another button of her jumpsuit, giving me an even better view of her cleavage. So much for being good in her office, I thought. But how could I deny her? "You may," I said.

We both knew what that meant. She quickly undid my belt and opened my pants, she reached in and pulled out my hard cock. Before I could stop her, she put out her tongue and licked from the base to the head, lingering at the top where I had a drop of pre-cum, her favorite. She licked it up greedily and savored the taste.

I took a handful of her hair and yanked her back roughly. "Don't forget to ask permission first," I growled. This was a game we always played, as if a blowjob was somehow a reward for her, not a favor for me.

"Please, sir, may I take your cock in my mouth?"

I looked at her beautiful face and at my cock laying against it, from her chin to her cheek. I enjoyed seeing the contrasting colors of her fair skin and my darker cock. "Yes, you may. Good girl."

Sabine wasted no time, and she greedily slurped up my cock. "Are you going to teach Amy how to do that?" I growled in a low whisper. "Maybe hold my cock and feed it into her mouth?" Sabine hummed in agreement. Sabine couldn't deep-throat, but she loved it when I pushed as far into her mouth as I could and made her eyes water by choking her with my cock. My hands were still in her hair, and I pushed her down on my cock as I thrust up my hips. "I wonder how much of it she can take," I said as I held her head down on my cock. After a few moments I relented and pulled her back up and off my cock. She gasped for breath before putting me back in her mouth. "I'd like her to kneel like you are now, and for you to stand behind her, fucking me with her mouth."

Sabine took my cock out of her mouth for long enough to look up at me lustily and say, "Oh fuck yes. And I want to go down on you while she rubs my clit."

"Yes, she can reach around you and make you come with her fingers while you make me come with your mouth," I suggested. My cock was back in her mouth, so all she could do was hum in agreement.

The danger of my being relatively slow to come was that we could run out of time. I had to make a decision. We could do one of three things: I could pull her off my cock, and put my dick back in my pants, and we would go about our day on edge and unrelieved; I could pull her off my cock, quickly undress her, and either let her sink onto my cock in the chair or turn her over on her desk for a quick fuck; or I could could encourage her to give me a different type of blowjob, where I could come quickly but she wouldn't. I feared that if we both left ourselves on edge, we'd make bad decisions about Amy. And I was sure Sabine would prefer the second option, but the jumpsuit meant she'd have to totally undress in order for us to fuck, and that seemed too risky in the middle of the workday. I loved the jumpsuit, but I wished at that moment she was wearing a skirt.

But while I was thinking about it, Sabine made her own decision--for the third option, which is what I'd decided I wanted anyway. She took her left hand and wrapped it around the shaft of my cock, pumping it up and down using her saliva as a lubricant while she focused her mouth on the most sensitive parts of my cock and cockhead. I looked down to admire the way her lips looked with her mouth stretched around my cock, how her freckles stood out strongly as her face flushed. "God you look good with my cock in your mouth," I whispered appreciatively.

"Would you want her to make me come in her mouth," I asked, "or will you want the reward yourself? Or maybe you could share: I can come in her mouth and she can kiss it back into yours." I closed my eyes thinking of that cum-kiss. I offered another image: "She should get me there with her mouth and then let you take my cum on your pretty face. And then, like a good assistant, she can lick you clean."

Sabine would not be distracted though, and she redoubled her efforts. After all this time, she knew the fastest, surest ways to my orgasms. The combination of her hand, her tongue, her lips, and the pressure of her sucking was working as she intended, and I was quickly reaching the point of no return. Just as I imagined coming on Sabine's face, my wet cock held in place by a docile Amy, I started to come. I focused on keeping myself from making any audible noises as I felt my cock swell and shoot my cum into Sabine's waiting mouth. She greedily swallowed everything I gave her and used her fist to milk my cock for more. Then, taking my deflating cock out of her mouth, she looked up at me, smiled with her wet and reddened lips, and started to tuck my cock back into my pants.

"Fuck, Sabine, you are so good at that." She stood up and leaned over to kiss me. I could taste my cum on her mouth.

"Well, let's think about it," she said, smirking. She could be very convincing when she wanted to be, and she already knew the answer.

--

"Amy," I wrote that afternoon. "The email we got this morning was very bittersweet. On one hand, we will all be devastated by your departure. I will miss your competence and help in the theater. What will we do without you? How will we be able to run events without your making everything work?" I was laying it on a bit thick, I knew, but I was trying to be flattering, and to be obvious about it. "Even more, I will miss seeing you around in the hallways. But on the other hand, your new job sounds like a terrific opportunity, and while I'm sad that the college is losing you, I'm really happy that you're taking the skills you developed here and getting more for them." So far, so good--a professional, professorial congratulations email. New paragraph, kick it up a notch: "I'd love to congratulate you in person and hear more about the new job. Sabine and I were going to get drinks next Tuesday evening. Can we take you out to celebrate? Carl."