In the fall, after the new school year began, our first baby joined our family. We named him August Paul David after both of our fathers. We called him Augie and Kay and I spent a great deal of time doing what all first time parents do: We spoiled that little guy with attention. So much so, I think we failed to give each other the attention we owed ourselves. Even after Kay went back to work, the baby was really all we ever talked about when we were both home together. For several months, Kay skipped the weekly sorority meetings. It was left to me to spend several hours each Sunday evening surrounded by good-looking young women in various states of dress ranging from the ultra-casual to swanky dressed date night. The young women had ceased being modest around me or even vague attempts at it. If they felt like belching, they would belch and then giggle. A couple of them really liked to pass gas in both the silent but deadly mode and the loud and proud mode. The more I got to know them, the more I came to understand that women are hardly different from men. The big difference is that women are far more graphic when describing their sexual exploits. Descriptive doesn’t touch it. It’s scary.

“Professor, when are you going to bring that Prince Augie to the meeting so we can anoint him as an official Sigma Xi Little Buddy?” asked Kristen Mitchell, the sorority’s president and my occasional paramour. “We haven’t seen him since he came home from the hospital.” The entire sorority had flooded the Galveston hospital where Augie was born. They finally had to be shooed out of the newborn waiting room by the charge nurse so that family members of the other babies could visit.

“I think that can be arranged,” I promised. “Soon.” There was a chorus of cheers and claps as the girls showed genuine excitement. As the meeting progressed, my attention was on Kristen. As president, she held the gavel and conducted the meetings according to the regular agenda. I was seldom needed to comment and as usual I found myself daydreaming about the sexual relationship that Kristen and I shared on occasional weekends after my office hours had concluded. Kristen lean with well-defined muscles. She had breasts so small that flat-chested was an accurate description, though I was extremely fond of her tiny erect nipples. Her pussy was tight and she was adept at using her internal muscles to extract the maximum amount of juice from my orgasms.

The daydreams were causing my cock to engorge, which would cause me some embarrassment if noticed, so I shifted my posture and my focus. My eyes landed on Michelle Mason, another junior in Kristen’s class. It occurred to me that Michelle was the sorority’s sole virgin. Or the she was the only member to admit she was a virgin. Michelle played basketball on the intercollegiate team and I had seen her play several times. On the court, Michelle was a commanding force at power forward: aggressive and tenacious. She would pull her short brown hair back with a broad white headband that she constantly adjusted when she was getting angry. Her teammates called her “Chelle” and her opponents called her “Hell”.

Away from the court, Hell became Chelle again and she was quiet, almost to the point of being timid. Chelle was an excellent student, destined to become a woman of science and medicine. Chelle seldom spoke in the meetings and then only when required. At the sorority parties she was a pillar of support to her sisters, great at holding hair back while a friend puked, willing to put to bed the most belligerent drunken harlots, sympathetic and patient as they would pour out they drunken stories of misadventures and being used as cum-dumps by men they had just met and bedded. Michelle had been one of the two women I had slept with on the night of the Sigma Epsilon Xi party on the shore, called SEX on the Beach. And when I say slept with, I mean slept in the same bed with. The entire sorority had crashed at our house after the festivities, sneaking in while I was asleep and sacking out all over the house. Kristen and Michelle had climbed into bed with me, much to my surprise in the morning.

Now the object of my attention, I became aware that I was also the object of hers. Michelle Mason seldom makes eye contact with men, yet she was locked on to my gaze without hesitation. I smiled and nodded and finally looked away after she smiled shyly in return. When she returned her attention to the meeting at hand, I studied her again. Michelle had another sort of athletic body, different from Kristen. She had a nice body with little real fat. Her butt was well shaped, but it was hard to tell with the baggy shorts the basketball team wore. She had smallish breasts but they were round and proud in a bikini as I recalled from the previous Spring SEX on the Beach Party. She was curvy where a woman should be curvy and lean where a woman should be lean. She looked unintimidating out of uniform, but that was a lie. The basketball season was coming up in a few weeks and I made a mental note to attend more games this year. It would show school spirit and give me a chance to see Chelle transform into Hell and back.

When the meeting finally wound down, Michelle caught up to me in the hall as I was leaving. “Professor, I have a personal question. Do you mind if I ask you?”

“Sure, Chelle,” I replied, stepping aside so that some of the other sorority sisters could pass.

“Not here. I’ll come by your office tomorrow afternoon between your one o’clock and your three o’clock. “

“You know my class schedule? You don’t have any classes with me.” I was a little shocked by her knowing what my MWF schedule was. It seemed a little strange.

“Don’t weird-out. It’s just one of my ‘things’. I know everybody’s schedules. Everyone in the sorority. Everyone on the basketball team. All of my professors. And before you ask, yes I am little OCD.” She laughed at her own admission. “I also have a didactic memory. I remember everything I see and everything I read and everything I write. It makes studying a breeze. But my OCD makes me study it all again anyway.” Now she was laughing at her own weaknesses. “When I watch game film, I can remember every tendency of all of our opponents. It’s the real secret to my success.”

“That’s an amazing gift. I look forward to hearing more about it. Tomorrow. It’s late and I need to get home to Kay and Augie,” I said moving toward the door.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow too Professor. You are so nice to listen to us Sig Xis.” She gave my forearm a squeeze in appreciation. Her grip was strong. Then she turned and headed back into the meeting room, probably to get her books and notes. I left and went home to a dark and quiet house. I slipped into bed and Kay stirred, rolled over and snuggled up against me. We went to sleep for a few hours and then got up to feed the baby when he crying started. It was life as new parents.

The next day I had forgotten about Michelle Mason and her request to stop by. At the appointed hour I was reading over lecture notes for my three o’clock class on Medieval English Literature. It’s almost as difficult talking about Medieval English Literature at three o’clock in the afternoon as listening to a lecture about Medieval English Literature at three o’clock in the afternoon. I expected half of my eighteen 400 level students to be zoned out or asleep within five minutes. I was reviewing my lecture notes to find places I could punch up the message and keep both the class and myself engaged. At times like this I wished I could afford a graduate assistant to deliver my lectures in my place and I could sit at my desk and sleep with my back to the door as many of my colleagues had wont to do. A timid knock broke me out of my deepening stupor.

“Come in,” I said through my daydream of a full night’s sleep.

“Hey Professor. Is it a good time?” Chelle’s sparkling blue eyes twinkled under her brown bangs. She wore no makeup that I could see. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt over her practice shorts, white athletic socks and flip flops. Being a gym rat, she had little color, which is odd for south Texas. Still, she had a physical appeal that I could only put down as wholesomeness.

“Of course Chelle, come right in and have a seat. Leave the door open a couple inches, if you don’t mind.” She did as I asked. It was standard practice to leave the office door open a small ways when I was meeting a student alone. In my career, I had only made an exception for one student: Michelle’s sorority sister, Kristen Mitchell.

We chatted about her family. Her parents were ranchers in central Texas. She had been offered two scholarships; one here and one in College Station. She selected this little coastal university because she had a chance to study medicine at one of the preeminent Texas children’s hospitals and play basketball for one of the best programs in the state. Michelle was going to be a pediatric surgeon and she spoke with such certainty I had no doubt her plans would work out. After thirty minutes, I turned the conversation back to the matter we had both avoided.

“I have no doubt that you are going to make an excellent surgeon Michelle. Is this the reason for your visit?” I sat back in my chair and knitted my fingers together, pointing my index fingers upward like a steeple. It was my favorite professorial pose.

“No Professor. It’s not.” She struggled to get the question framed in her mind and I waited patiently. I didn’t offer her any cues or hints. I felt it was important that she come to grip with her own problems before laying them on me. “Professor, I just wanted to ask….. What I mean is….. It’s really embarrassing.” I raised my eyebrows expectantly, but said nothing. “I mean the other girls, you know, they have all had…. Or claimed to have….. anyway I am the only one who hasn’t, you know?”

“Michelle, is there a question in there that you want me to answer?” She blushed and turned her eyes down. I couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or shame. “Michelle,” I leaned forward and grasped her hands that she was nervously wiping on her thighs. “It’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t ready. You have to go at your own pace. When you are ready, you’ll know.” I answered the question she was desperately trying to find the courage to ask. I squeezed her hands in tender encouragement and reassurance. She looked at me again.

“Do you really think so?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Professor, I don’t want you to think the wrong thing, but I am going to ask anyway. This is really embarrassing. Do you think I’m pretty?”

I gave her a reassuring smile. “You are very attractive Michelle. You have a wonderful sex appeal. You are athletic, smart, have a warm and engaging personality, any man would be lucky to have you for his girlfriend and some lucky young man will be very fortunate to have you for his wife. But I wouldn’t get in too much of a hurry. You have a lot of schooling left if you are going to be a top-flight pediatric surgeon. You may not have time for a boyfriend, let alone a husband.”

“That’s so nice of you to say those things, Professor. But you didn’t answer the question. Do you think I am pretty?” What was it with the word ‘pretty’ that drives so many women’s self-worth? Even an apparently self-confident and strong young woman like Michelle worried about being seen as pretty. I stood to take the question head on. I pulled Michelle to her feet and made a great show of looking her over, making a motion for her to turn around slowly so I could see all sides of her.
“No Michelle. I don’t think you are pretty,” her face fell. “I KNOW you are pretty. If I were a young man still in college, I’d be chasing you all over Galveston until you agreed to go on a date with me.”

“Then why don’t boys LIKE me?” she blurted out, clearly frustrated.

“Michelle Mason. You are not prone to bouts of silliness or self-doubt. What on earth has gotten into you?” She had a shocked look from my consternation. I eased up. “You’ve never given a single young man any encouragement that you are willing to be pursued. You are smarter than all of them. More fit. You have an agenda that they can see doesn’t include those young men who would love to be next to you.”

She gave my words careful consideration. “I’ve never thought of it like that. You are right. It’s just that I look around all of the Sigma Xis and they all can have any boy they want. I can’t seem to get any.”

“Do you really want just any?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No. I guess not. I guess I haven’t found the right guy. Believe it or not, this has been a real help Professor.”

“Call me Paul if you like. When we are discussing personal subjects like friends, I think it’s appropriate to be on a first name basis.”

“Of course Paul. And could you always call me Michelle? I love the way it sounds when you say it.”

“Certainly Michelle. I hate to cut this short, but I have another lecture in a few minutes…”

“I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time.”

“It’s not a problem. You are welcome anytime,” I reassured her.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’d like to come back next week, if it’s all right.”

“I look forward to it,” I replied. I stood and so did Michelle. She walked me part of the way to my next lecture and I promptly put her out of my mind until that following Saturday morning. That Saturday morning at the end of my regular office hours, Kristen Mitchell appeared at my doorway. She was wearing a high-tech workout shirt and tight black running shorts and running shoes.

“Hello Stud!” she declared with a mischievous look. “Stud” is the pet name the sorority gave me after my wife Kay announced that she was pregnant with our first son, Augie. When Kristen used the nickname, it usually meant something else entirely. “I was hoping I could get one of your famous leg massages. I think I am developing shin splints.”

“Of course you can. Let me lock up the building first.” I spent a couple minutes making certain we were alone in the English department and no one has slipped into their office unannounced. I also made sure all of the doors were locked before I returned to my office. When I got there, Kristen was completely nude and seated in my leather office chair, one lovely leg propped on the desk, the other lovely leg dangling over the arm rest of the chair, exposing her delicious pink lips to me. Already engorged and glistening.

“Miss Mitchell, I don’t believe you really want a leg massage, do you?” I slipped my own shirt over my head and unbuckled my trousers and dropped them on the floor. My cock was semi-hard while locking the building and it rose to full mast when it got a look at that tight pussy it would soon burrow into.

“Why Paul, whatever would you mean? My thighs are so sore,” she stroked the insides of her legs, high, near her pussy. “I really would like it if you would rub your hips against them vigorously.” Kristen was such a naturally sexual creature and entirely at ease with the way I looked at her. I dropped to me knees and buried my face in that clean, glistening slit.

“That’s nice,” she purred, sliding forward on the seat to get her cunt closer to my face. I lapped on engorged labia and sucked it into my mouth gently and then did the same for the other. Her little brown rosebud was twitching involuntarily as her pussy reacted to the pleasure. I circled it with my tongue, and then pressed the tip into her anal ring. My nose brushed against her clit and she began to pant. I pulled my tongue out and went to work on her pussy properly, driving my hardened tongue deep into her cunt and then pulling it lightly around her clit. I sucked her clit into my mouth and swirled my tongue lightly around it. She was thrashing in my chair, and her legs clamped around my head, ankles crossed behind my back, heels driving me deeper into her sex.

Her orgasm started with just a few minutes teasing. I wanted to see how long I could prolong it, so I teased and licked her outer labia then rubbed my tongue up and down her inner labia. I pushed my hands up her chest and completely covered both of her small breasts, pinching her nipples between my outstretch fingers. Using her feet on my back for leverage, she raised her ass off the chair, supported by the arms of the chair only. That put her pucker back in my range so I drove my tongue deep into her rear channel while nose found a cozy home in her cunt. The bridge of my nose rubbed her clit and kept her bucking and writhing. She would grow tense, stiff and rigid, not breathing. Then she would gasp for air and pant, bucking her pelvis against my face. Five minutes later my knees were begging for relief from the hard floor and my back was screaming from the abuse from her heels driven deep by her runner’s legs. I thought I was going to cry mercy first, but Kristen broke it off first.

“Stop! For the love of God! Stop!” She pulled her feet up until she could press them against my shoulders and push me away. I backed off, resting on my haunches, grinning and dripping. Kristen stayed in the spread legged butterfly, gasping for air. “Oh my God, that’s fucking awesome! I couldn’t stop cumming! You almost killed me!” She laughed and I watched her pussy pulse and throb. I reached out and pressed my middle finger into her anus and rubbed the area above her clitoral hood with a thumb. “How does Kay stand it?”

“She’s like you. She begs for a break. Luckily for her I have you to take out some of my excess horniness. Can you imagine if she had to take all I had to offer?”

“Oh I shudder to think!” laughed Kristen, finally sitting up. She stood on shaky legs. “Sit down David, I am going to return the favor.”

As I sat down, Kristen bent at the waist and pulled the entire length of my cock down her throat. When I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, she pulled off, killing my orgasm mid build-up. I laughed in frustration, cock throbbing and waving in the air.

“Are you up for something different David? I’ve been meaning to try this for a while and when you started licking at my ass, I hope today is the day.” I had a strong suspicion I knew what she wanted.

“What do you want to try?” I asked, playing as coy as I dared.

“I want you to fuck me in my ass,” she admitted, mounting my lap and pressing my cock against my belly with her cunt. She buried her face into my neck and started licking and sucking. “I want to feel this big rod in my tight little ass and I want to feel this big rod cum in my tight little ass.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I whispered. “It might hurt…..”

“You’ll go slow,” she stated. “And BOB and I have been practicing.” BOB stood for Battery Operated Boyfriend. My cock twitched at the thought of Kristen pushing her dildo into her ass in preparation for fucking me.

“If you are sure, just stand up, turn around and sit down.” Kristen jumped from my lap, turned around and began to lower her ass toward my groin. I gripped my cock and placed it under her descending behind, allowing her to move around until it was lined up where she wanted it. The head slid in without resistance until it met her internal sphincter. She paused, slowly exhaled and slipped my cock head into her bowels. She pulled up just a little, reached back with both hands and spread her cheeks and gifted me with a great view as she slowly impaled herself on my spear. When she was resting on my lap, my cock buried as deep as possible into her now un-virgin ass, she sighed and leaned back. I could feel her pulse through the muscles in her sphincter.

“Oh God that hurts so good! Before you, I never would have thought I would ever try anal sex. And now I can’t see ever not having anal sex.” She leaned her face towards mine and we kissed. We kept kissing as she rolled her pelvis, lifting off of my cock and then sliding back down, slowly fucking me with just the strength of her stomach muscles. I let my hands roam across the definition of her stomach and chest, dipping my fingertips into her pussy and tweaking her tiny hard nipples. All the while we kissed, tongues fighting and dodging from one mouth to the other.

“Stand us up,” she ordered in a husky whisper. “Bend me over the desk. Fuck my ass for real.”

I did as she asked, never leaving the velvet vice of her ass. She leaned over the desk resting on her for arms, legs tight together, her sphincter locked around my cock. I gripped her hips, locking her in place and started the slow pumping that would be certain to bring about my final explosion. She moaned and her head dropped to the desk as I gained speed. She was up on her toe tips, optimizing her alignment with my thrusts. I picked up speed, fighting against my own pleasure. I didn’t want this to end too soon. Even so, I rushed to enjoy as much of this experience as possible. I was slamming my cock into her now, sweat building on my brow and chest. Kristen as biting her fist to keep from crying out. It was so hot, I couldn’t take it. I blasted into her rectum, instantly coating her insides and my cock, making my thrusts slide even more deeply. I kept firing, pumping all the cum in my inventory into her tight little bum. When I was thoroughly spent, I sprawled exhausted across my young lover’s back. We both gasped for air. This was so dangerous, having an affair with a student in my office on campus. Even though it was unlikely that we would get discovered, there was always a chance. I was going to have to make another arrangement and stop using my office for my illicit liaisons. It was simply too dangerous.

As we dressed, Kristen was her usual chipper post-coital self. “I had an interesting conversation with Chelle on Thursday. It seems she is developing quite a crush on a certain Professor Stud.”

“Well can you blame her? Professor Stud is quite a prize!” We both laughed. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her that sleeping with the sorority sponsor might not be the best idea. Particularly if the sponsor was married and his wife was the co-sponsor.”

“That’s probably good advice. How did she take it?”

“She feels really bad about that, but she’s so smitten with you she doesn’t care. You’d better be careful. She’s so naïve. I know how you are with virgins….”

“Are you telling me to do it or not to do it?”

“I am telling you that if you do it, I want your permission to tell her that we do it too. I know I promised, but I want to talk about how fantastic you are with someone, and I don’t think Kay will appreciate it. And she is going to be busting to tell someone, why not someone who won’t go telling everyone?”

“That sounds like you are trying to talk me into taking the virginity of Michelle Mason.”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” We kissed and before we broke we reached a mutual agreement.

“IF, big ‘if’, IF Michelle really wants to share her virginity with me, I’ll consider it.”

“We both know that means ‘Yes’!”

She was right. It did mean yes.

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