0 comments/  71906 views/  9 favorites

Fall Semester

By: Dear_Dora



Readers: This is a revised and longer version of "Not Good Enough." It is quite different, but the characters and settings will be familiar to anyone who has read the earlier story. This version fits better with prequels and sequels such as "Before the Fall," "Spring Semester," and After the Fall," yet to come. Enjoy - Dora

------------------------------------------

Fall Semester

Carol wasn't expecting it. But Carl was.

Carl was a predator. He was also a professor, which gave him plenty of possibilities. There were always hundreds of desirable undergraduate women on campus, bursting with their new-found sexual magnetism. But Carl understood that they were each pursued by every undergrad male student, and by most of the faculty men as well.

What Carl found so appealing were the not-quite-so-young school teachers who filled his English classes every semester, still-attractive women in their late twenties and thirties who were taking his classes to maintain their teaching credentials.

These women were invisible to the other students. They generally went to class at night, and they were, after all, older than most of the "co-eds" on campus. And, for the most part, they were married. This is what Carl liked best about them. Married women presented fewer problems, fewer expectations. Many of them were still young enough to be very, very attractive, if you could see them through the teacher's glasses, the teacher's sweaters, and the teacher's personality. They weren't looking for commitment ... they already had a committed relationship at home. They weren't likely to have an STD ... teachers were characteristically conservative, faithful wives. But, and here was the key thing, the younger ones were also often in that part of their marriage that everyone goes through, when the newness has worn off, and the long-haul drudgery of working for a living has settled around them and their husbands and taken all the romance and adventure out of their lives.

Carl taught classes that met three times a week for an hour, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and then other classes that met only twice a week, for an hour and a half each on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So, by the end of the first week of classes, Carl had generally identified three or four attractive women in his classes that might be looking for a little adventure, even if they didn't realize it themselves yet. Then he waited, and before long, one or two would always show the signs.

Carol always came to her re-certification class directly from school. She just stayed late in her classroom and graded papers, then left in time to pick up a snack on her way to the campus. It was so much better than going home and relaxing that little bit, then trying to get charged up again and gather up all her stuff to go out to class in the evening. Plus, it prevented her from driving clear across town two extra times.

John didn't mind. He always said he was okay with fixing himself and their daughter something for dinner -- Carol usually set something out, or left a note about what they might take out and defrost for dinner. Then, when Carol finished her class, she either picked up another little snack at the student union coffee shop or came home and had left-overs with her husband in front of the TV.

This schedule meant that she was always wearing her school clothes to classes in the evening. Carol still felt obliged to dress up a little for teaching. Where other women who taught in her public middle school wore jeans and t-shirts to school, Carol thought that looked slovenly and unprofessional, and generally wore a nice skirt and blouse, often with a sweater. She almost always wore hose and nice shoes (not heels, though! There was too much standing as a teacher to wear heels of any height, and tennis just looked ridiculous in her opinion. She just wore "practical" flats.) So, on the college campus, she looked much more like a faculty member than a student, and was doubtless the best-dressed student in her classes.

And, Carol was an eager learner. She loved teaching and she loved learning. She loved the English language, and was so excited to discuss literature with adults who were motivated and interested, after long days of trying to teach the material to kids who would rather look out the windows or talk on their cell phones.

So Carol was always attentive, and alert, and participated in class to the point where she sometimes became self-conscious and held back from answering questions or expressing her opinions because she felt that she might be dominating the other students and not giving them a chance.

By the end of class on Thursday, there was no doubt in Carl's mind. There was a woman named Carol in his Tuesday/Thursday classes that was perfect. She was still quite young, probably in her late twenties, and she took good care of herself. She was neither "cute" in a little-girl way, nor beautiful like a model, but she was definitely a handsome-looking woman. From what he could tell given the winter clothes she was wearing to class, she had a great figure. She always looked put together. And she was smart, fun, and engaging when she participated in class. This one would be a good one.

Carol probably didn't realize it, but she showed a deep hunger for adult interaction and intellectual stimulation. She was like a puppy, she craved his attention in class so hungrily. And, when he favored her by calling on her or commenting on her excellent observations, she simply glowed with appreciation. After only two classes, she stood out from the crowd: sexy, sharp, together, and most important of all, needy.

"Carol, could you see me after class?" Carl said as the class was shuffling their papers as the clock approached 8:30.

As the other students filed out, Carol came to his desk, then stepped close to him to be out of the way of the others filing past to the door.

"Yes, Professor Fellows?" Carol asked.

"Oh, please, Carol. We're all adults here, call me 'Carl.'"

"Oh, sorry. Just a natural reaction left over from college days, I guess," Carol said with an embarrassed smile.

"No problem! I've been looking over the papers I had everyone write in class on Tuesday to tell me about their background, and I wanted to talk to you about yours."

"Oh? Did I make a mistake?" Carol asked.

"Far from it! I just wanted to mention two things. First, I was fascinated that you are something of a Twain scholar; I also have a real love of Twain's work, and I've made a study of him myself!"

"That's interesting! I certainly wouldn't call myself a 'Twain scholar!" Carol said. "He was just my senior research topic at CU."

"Well, that's not the only thing I wanted to mention. I was also impressed by the way your paper was written. I am always amazed by the poor quality of work I get from men and women who are supposed to be teaching our children the basics of our language. But your paper was perfectly composed, with perfect spelling and grammar, and you even found opportunities to display your wit and intelligence. I wanted to thank you; it is a rare opportunity for me to actually enjoy student work in these classes. I'm looking forward to having you in my class this year!"

"Oh, my! Thank you so much. Profess.."

"Carl!"

"Oh, yes! Thanks you so much, Carl! It's just fun for me to be going over this material with someone over the age of fifteen!" Carol literally radiated her pleasure in the praise she had received from her college professor. She was warm all over.

Carl handed Carol her paper. "I don't really grade these first-day papers; they're just for me to get to know the students better. But in your case, I couldn't resist." There was an "A+" scrawled across the top of her paper with red felt-tip. "See you next Tuesday!"

Carol left class walking on air.

Over the next couple of classes, Carol would often stop for a few minutes to complete a thought or explore a new idea after the class was over. Soon, Carl and Carol found themselves walking side by side through the dark campus after class, warmly chatting about their readings or composition subjects. One evening, about a month after classes had started, when they reached the point in the path away from the classroom building where they usually parted ways, they were engrossed in their conversation and just weren't ready to stop.

"Look, Carol, why don't we go over to the union and have a cup of coffee and keep this going?" Carl offered. "I'll buy you a scone!"

Carol glanced anxiously at her watch. It was already almost nine. She knew John wasn't particularly waiting for her, and probably wouldn't mind if she were a few minutes later than usual. "Okay! I'll but the coffee!"

So that set the pattern for them for the next several class sessions. They would leave class and head over to the student union and have some coffee together. Soon, their after-class meetings stretched out in length from fifteen minutes to half an hour, then to an hour or more. As they got to know one another, their topics of conversation drifted to more personal things, as well. Carol learned that Carl was separated from his wife, and Carl learned that he had been right, that the "magic" was fading from Carol and John's relationship.

One night, while they were in class, the first substantial snow had begun to fall. When they emerged from their classroom, Carol found it almost impossible to walk in her slippery leather-soled flats. Carl was wearing waffle-sole boots, and gallantly took her hand. When they reached the decision point where they usually turned to go over to the student union, Carol said, "Carl, I don't' think I should stay for coffee tonight! I better get on home ... it's going to be late enough as it is!"

Reluctant to let go of her hand, Carl said, "Okay. Let me walk you down to your car, so you don't fall." And he escorted her to the parking area. As she was unlocking her door, Carl took her hand again, and gave her a friendly little kiss, but right on her lips. "You be careful driving home, now, okay?"

A little stunned, Carol said, "Okay," and just climbed in her car without another word.

At that point, Carol suspected what might be going on, but she wasn't sure, and anyway, if Carl was trying to seduce her, it was kind of flattering. It had been a long time since anyone had paid attention to her "that way." Even her husband, John, seemed uninterested in her sexually now.

After that, whatever the weather, the two of them held hands on their way to get coffee after class. They made sure the other students were gone and they were pretty sure they weren't being too obvious; it was pretty dark on campus, and a couple holding hands wasn't all that conspicuous.

In Carol's mind, however, they stood out like a beacon. She didn't really know anyone here, but the thought of being seen holding hands with another man was both thrilling and scary.

One Thursday soon after the first snow, Carl showed Carol a flyer at the student union. There was an American Artists series going on on campus, and one of the events was "An Evening With Mark Twain" the upcoming Friday ... the next night! "We should go!" Carl told her. Their class this semester was on English Lit., but he knew they both were Twain fans.

"Oh, I don't know, Carl. I really can't afford it! And, anyway, my car's in the shop this week, so we only have one car, and I can't strand John at home."

"Money's no object!" Carl laughed, "'Cause faculty gets free tickets! And I'd be glad to come pick you up from school. We could get a bite to eat, then go to see the show, and I'll run you home ... I live in that direction myself."

"Well ... okay?" There was a little hesitation in her voice. "I'll have to ask John, of course, but if he says okay, I'd like to go!"

The phone rang. John answered it, and a man's voice asked for Carol.

Carol took the call, then, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece, she asked John if he would mind if she went out to see the Twain presentation with her professor the next night. John said that would be fine; he never wanted to go out on Friday nights anyway, after a long week at work.

Carl purposely kept it light when they went out to dinner. He didn't go for fast food, but he didn't go for a fancy restaurant, either. He felt Applebee's was just about the right level of intimacy for their first "date." Nice enough to be pleasant, but not so nice as to alarm her.

After a nice dinner, and a great performance, Carl took Carol home in his old Plymouth sedan. It was literally freezing cold after the long evening in the hot theater, and Carol slid over on the slick plastic of the bench seat to be next to Carl for some warmth, "at least until the heater got going," she told herself. "Do you mind," she asked as she snuggled next to him.

"No, that's terrific," her professor said.

As they wound through the dark, cold streets, Carol began to get sleepy, and rested her head on his shoulder. She dozed off. When she wakened, they were parked under a tree on the street in front of her house. The house was dark, but the streetlight lit it up, as well as the sidewalks and her yard. But the shadow of the tree they were under cast them into a pool of relative darkness, where no one could see them within Carl's old car. The car was still running, and the heater was now going full blast, making the car, if anything, too warm.

Carl lifted her head off of his shoulder, and still holding onto her chin, kissed her on the lips. She reciprocated and then she felt Carl's tongue sliding along her closed, puckered lips. After a second's hesitation, she opened her mouth, and together they crossed a barrier that they knew would eventually take them all the way. Their tongues danced with each other, and Carol found herself squirming in her seat as she felt herself growing moist with sexual excitement.

Then she felt Carl's hand on her breast under her open coat, but over her sweater, blouse and bra. He was gently massaging her there, waiting for a signal from her whether to proceed or stop. She shrugged her coat off, and he took that as the okay to slide his hand under her sweater.

He paused to pull the tail of her blouse out of the waist band of her skirt, then slid his hand up over the bare skin of her stomach to the bottom of her bra. With practiced ease, Carl lifted the bottom of the bra forward and up, and it slipped up over her breasts and gathered around her upper chest, leaving her breast free for his hands to explore. He caressed the erect nipples one by one, then pinched them slightly. He hefted her breasts one at a time, noticing that they were firm and ample, soft and yielding to him.

Then he felt he hand on his crotch, rubbing up and down over his hardening penis, and he knew she was ready to go all the way. She reached for his zipper, and opened his pants, reached inside the opening, through his underwear, and grasped his now-throbbing cock.

Carol's head was in a whirl. She couldn't believe what she was doing. She knew it was crazy risky, parked in front of her own house, necking and petting with her college professor while her husband and daughter slept only a few feet away. But the thrill was making her hot like she had not been with John for years. She knew she was wet down below, and wanted Carl to touch her there.

Carl twisted in his seat, liberating his right arm. He pulled Carol's sweater and blouse up until they, too, were perched on her upper chest and her breasts were visible in the dim reflected light from the streetlights. As he started to manipulate her breasts with his right hand, and while Carol gripped her hand up and down along the length of his cock, her slid his left hand under her skirt.

Unconsciously, Carol had spread her legs apart a little. She was concentrating on the delightful feeling of his large hard-on in her hand and the luxurious feelings he was giving her by massaging her tits.

Then, she felt his hand come into contact with her panties, and everything suddenly got very real. She was sitting here, in the blast from the heater of this old car on a cold winter's night, with her breasts hung out for all the world to see, holding onto the cock of her college professor while he was about to put his fingers in her cunt. It was if she had suddenly woken up from a sex-induced trance.

"Oh, Carl! We can't do this! Oh, my God!" Carol let go of his penis and slid away on the slick seat of his old Plymouth, away from Carl's probing fingers between her legs. Suddenly, she was out of the direct air flow from the heater, and she realized her breasts were exposed to the freezing night air. She reached up under her blouse, and pulled her bra back into position. She pulled her blouse and sweater down, and straightened herself up. She struggled into her coat as she dimly saw Carl pushing his manhood back into his pants and zipping up.

"Oh my! Carl! That was nice, but we really can't go any further. Uh, thank you for a really nice night. I've got to get inside!" As she started to open the door, the dome light came on, and Carl leaned across the seat and grabbed her by the chin one more time. He kissed her, open-mouthed, and she couldn't resist kissing him back. After a few long seconds, Carol disengaged, grabbed her purse and ran across the yard and up the steps. While she was fumbling with her keys, she saw Carl's long, dented old blue Plymouth pull forward out from under the tree, and once he could see that she was safely inside, he quietly cruised away into the night.

Inside the darkened house, John stepped away from the window. He had been watching them for over half an hour. He realized that they believed they were invisible inside that dark car, but they were dimly visible to him from inside the even darker house. He couldn't see exactly what they were doing, but they were close together on the front seat of the car, not talking apparently, but moving against one another rhythmically.

It didn't take a genius to guess what was going on out there. The idea gave John an erection, and while he watched, he rubbed himself gently through his sweat pants. When the dome light eventually went on, he clearly saw Carol and her professor give each other a deep kiss before Carol hurried away, and her professor drove off into the night.

While Carol was fumbling to unlock the front door, John went back to bed, leaving her to assume that her activities in the car were still her secret from him. After Carol shed her clothes and put on her dowdy flannel nightgown, he rolled over and hugged her. "Did you have a good time?" he asked, all innocently. "Yeah, it was fun," she answered truthfully. Each of them was talking about something supposedly secret that each assumed other wasn't aware of, and each was keeping the pretense of an innocent evening out.

As John reached under Carol's nightgown, he discovered she was soaking wet between her legs. He moved his hand up further and found her nipples distended and rigid with excitement. He knew her excitement wasn't for him, but he took advantage of it, and proceeded to massage her breast with one hand and her pussy with the other, until she was panting with desire.

John slipped her flannel nightgown up her body, revealing her slim, sexy body to him in the dim light filtering in from the streetlights outside. He stripped off his own sweat pants, and lifted himself over her. She eagerly spread her legs, thinking of Carl as she grasped John's hardened penis and guided it to her opening, thinking of how much bigger and different Carl's hard cock had seemed, and as John pressed himself into her, she imagined it was Carl's penis that was probing her wetness.

While he thrust into her, John was also thinking of her professor and her willingness to be sexually involved with another man. He was confused but excited by the idea of his wife having sex with another man, keeping her illicit sex life a secret from him, a secret that he secretly knew about.


Fall Semester



The two of them had gratifying orgasms in one another's arms thinking about Carol and her illicit lover, before they kissed deeply, told each other of their love, and rolled over to go to sleep.

The next morning, Carol realized she was missing her wallet. She thought back, and soon figured out that it must have tumbled out of her purse in Carl's car as they were necking out front of her house.

Anxiously, she called Carl at home, but there was no answer. She called his office on the campus, and after a few rings, he answered, She glanced around and saw that John was outside scraping ice off of their car, and their daughter was watching cartoons in the other room.

"Carl," she said, "my wallet is missing. Did you notice it in your car?"

"No, I didn't, Carol, but let me go take a look, and I'll call you back."

While Carol waited nervously fro Carl to call back, John came in from scraping the ice off of their car's windshield. "I need to go down to the office today, if you don't mind," John said, brushing crystals off of his coat near the door. "Do you think you want to take me down so you can have the car today?" he asked.

Just then, the phone rang. John was standing right next to it, and answered it before Carol had a chance. John listened for a few minutes and then said into the phone, "Okay, just a second."

Holding his hand cupped over the mouthpiece, John said to Carol, "This is Professor Fellows. He says he found your wallet on the floor of his car this morning, He wants to know if you want him to drop it off."

Carol was jumpy and nervous trying to reassure herself that John knew Carl had picked her up at school and driven her home last night, and her wallet in his car didn't reveal anything. But her guilty conscience kept her from responding right away.

John said, "Look, Carol, Megan will be fine here by herself for a while. Why don't you drop me off at the office on your way to campus to get your wallet? There's no need to make your professor drive all the way over here to bring it to you!"

"Yeah, okay, that would be fine," Carol said, more relieved to be out of a tight spot than really thinking about if this was a good idea or not.

"That will be fine, Professor Fellows," John said into the phone. Carol will be there at your office in about half an hour to pick it up. Yes, thank you very much. Goodbye!" and hung up the phone.

"Get yourself together, Carol," John said, as she stood looking at him vacantly, her mind obviously somewhere else. "Put on some shoes, and let's get going. I've got a lot to get done today, and your professor is waiting." It gave John a kind of perverse pleasure to realize that he was making her feel uncomfortable saying "your professor." It also gave him a little bit of a rush to realize he was setting them up to have some more time together, this time alone at his office on campus.

While she was getting her shoes and coat, Carol was thinking about the same thing. She was not wearing her usual school-teacher's clothes today. She was in her typical Saturday garb -- jeans, bobby sox, tennies, and a t-shirt with no bra. She felt she would look ridiculously forward if he (he ... Carl, of course) were to see she had no bra. But he wouldn't see that -- she would just get her wallet and get out of there -- she wouldn't even take off her coat. She promised herself. Against her will, her nipples were growing hard, poking the material of her t-shirt out. After she had her shoes on, she hurried to get her coat on before John could see her obvious excitement.

But he had.

Forty minutes later, Carol had found Carl's office in the faculty office building on campus. She had dropped John off at his office, and their daughter had gone to spend the day next door with her friend Mary.

The office door was open, and Carol could see her wallet on the desk across the room. She came in, and spotted Carl near the bookcases along the hall wall of his office. He came toward her, but he didn't come to her as she had expected. He went right to the door behind her and closed it. She turned to look at him. As he met her eyes, he turned the old-fashioned dead-bolt lock.

Keeping his eyes glued to hers, her professor came directly to her, embraced her, and pressed his open lips to hers. Helpless to stop herself, she opened her own mouth, and they thrust their tongues into one another's mouths.

While they were kissing, Carl unzipped her coat and slipped it off her shoulders. It fell onto the floor, forgotten. His hands soon discovered that she had worn no bra today, and she raised her arms as he skinned her t-shirt up and over her head, then dropped it, too on the floor. He pulled back for a moment to gaze at her lovely exposed breasts, admiring them as the nipples grew more prominent under his stare. He soon returned to caressing them with one hand as he unbuttoned her jeans with the other, and slid them, too, along with her panties, to the floor.

Carl pushed Carol back onto the cracked old leather couch behind her, and sank to his knees. He tugged at the legs of her jeans as he struggled to get them off over her shoes. Soon, she was nude except for her tennis shoes and socks, which he thought was sexy as hell. She was sprawled out, reclining onto her elbows on the soft old sofa, looking at him expectantly.

Carl stood and loosened his own belt and trousers. He quickly skimmed them down, leaving his shorts on for now. He stripped off his own shirt, and kicked off his shoes and socks.

He stepped toward Carol, forcing her to make the move to remove his underwear -- to commit herself to what they were about to do. She licked her lips and reached out, grabbed the elastic band around his waist, and tugged them down, revealing the long, swollen cock she had seen only dimly last night.

Carl leaned forward and put his hands on her ... touching her right nipple with his left hand and her labia with his right hand. Her nipples were standing out prominently from her flattened breasts, as her chest heaved with her deep breaths. And between her legs, she was soaking wet, ready now, right now.

Then, he knelt on the floor again, and started to push his face into the moist space between her thighs, prepared to lick her there until she felt she was ready for his cock, but Carol reached down and pulled him up towards her. She grabbed his cock and guided him toward her opening, letting him know she needed no preliminaries. She was ready now, right now.

He knelt on the sofa beside her with one knee, keeping the other foot on the floor, and took his throbbing penis into his own hand. He leaned forward again and rubbed his cock up and down along the length of her cunt lips, sliding in the oily fluids there, slathering them all over him and her. His other hand remained busy rolling and pinching her nipples as he switched from one to the other from time to time.

Carol was first to speak a word since she had entered his office only moments before: "Please!" she said.

Carl stopped everything he was doing, leaned back so that only his thigh was touching hers slightly, and looked into her eyes. "I want you to say you know what we are doing. This is fucking. It's not love, it's fucking. Say it."

"It's fucking! Do it!" Carol hissed in a loud whisper, afraid that someone in the hallway might hear her. "Fuck me, now."

Carl leaned forward, and while he was touching the tip of his cock to her sloppy wet cunt, he remembered the half-a-dozen previous times that he had done this with other willing young wives. Every time, he had made them humiliate themselves by saying that there was no love here, just fucking. Every time, they said it.

Her hand was on his cock again, desperate to guide him directly into her opening. He plunged his cock into her, meeting no resistance, but feeling her snugly around him, her cunt tight but greasy with excitement. He pushed in an inch or two, then pulled out a bit, pushed in some more, then out again. Impatient, Carol reached behind him with the leg that was resting on the sofa, and yanked him into her to his full depth.

She let out a gasp. He was much longer than her husband ... she couldn't help but make the comparison. She loved her husband, but this was fucking, not love, and it was something special to feel herself so filled by him as he left himself fully embedded in her and rotated his hips to wriggle his penis around within her, his dangling balls slapping from the inside of her one thigh to the other.

He stopped the wriggling, and withdrew himself so that only the head of his penis remained within her, but she was having none of that, and again used her leg to yank him into herself. He decided that she wasn't to be toyed with, and just abandoned himself to pumping into her with undisguised joy. He had had six or seven students before, but Carol was by far the most enthusiastic he had ever had, including his own wife when they were new together. For a second he began to wonder if he himself was convinced that there was no love here, but he shook it off, and concentrated on fucking this married student slut here below him.

He felt the space between his hips begin to tighten up, and he recognized the signs of his impending orgasm. He started to make himself hold back but just then he realized that Carol's cunt was gripping his cock more tightly, she was arching her back with her hands stretched over her head, her breath was ragged, her eyes closed, and her chest flushed dark red, her head flailing left and right as she murmured something unintelligible -- she was cumming, strongly. So Carl violently shoved his engorged cock into her as far as it could go and he let loose a torrent of cum, pulsing what felt to him like cupful of fluid. He was actually dizzy from his cum, and briefly lost track of time. Below him, Carol shuddered as the contractions of her orgasm rippled through her, and he saw her stomach tighten again and again and her muscles there pulse upward.

They both stopped, his cock buried deeply inside her, deeper than she had ever had a man before, still rigid and still weakly pumping fluids into her. Two such intellectual people, normally living in their heads, were at this moment at their most animal level of existence, not really thinking at all, just totally centered where their sex came together.

The moment passed, and Carl's cock began to soften inside her. She started to realize what she had just done, that she had just fucked her professor like a giddy schoolgirl, that she hadn't taken any precautions against pregnancy, that she had betrayed her marriage to her husband whom she loved, and that she had just had the most fantastic sexual feelings of her life and that she knew she would be doing this more ... a lot more.

Carl felt the sense of domination and, for some reason, revenge, that he always felt after he first unloaded his jism into the cunt of one of these faithless wives. His was a satisfaction that was compounded of sexual fulfillment, a joy in breaking her to his will, and the power of using his position and prestige to get a cheap, no-commitment fuck from a young married woman. He loved that these girls ... women ... would knowingly throw their whole comfortable married lives away for sex ... with him!

But there was something else, this time. For the first time ever, Carl suspected that this woman was at least his intellectual equal, and he briefly wondered if he was the one who was doing the conquering. But his ego wouldn't let that thought stay for more than a second, and he looked down at Carol's body on his old leather couch, still panting and sweating in the over-heated office, and his penis began to swell again inside of her.

Carol was too sensitive to even think about having Carl touch her anywhere right now, and she gently but firmly pushed him away, forcing his growing cock out of her sloppy twat. She slid her butt back further onto the sofa trailing foamy cum along the smooth old leather, and tucked up her knees to her chest, holding her shins. Carl stood up and reached over her to grab an old knit afghan off the back of the sofa, and spread it out over her. He sat down beside her, and kissed her sweaty forehead. Slowly, Carol relaxed under the blanket, and stretched out again, and as she did, the afghan caught on her toes, pulling it down to reveal her breasts. Carl stared at them, fascinated as always by the perfection of the woman's bosoms. He reached out to touch her, but she gently pushed his hand away, saying "That's nice, but I'm still so sensitive right now."

Carl was ready to go again, though, seeing this sexy young wife and mother stretched out naked on the sofa in his office. So he did something that just about always worked to get his student sluts going again. He peeled the afghan down along her body until he revealed her arms crossed over her taut little tummy. She was lying on her right side, so her left hand was on top. His erection was almost fully restored by now, but he was still oozing semen. He caught her eye, and while she watched closely, he started to rub the tip of his dripping penis all over the wedding ring on her finger. She watched with fascination as his cum oozed out onto the ring John had placed on her finger on their wedding day, bathing the filigreed gold with his slimy white fluid.

Carol knew what he was showing her, and her pulse began to race. She was here with her professor, this other man than her husband. While John was working hard for their family, she was here in full knowledge of what she was doing, admiring his dripping penis rubbing itself all over the symbol of the love she shared with the father of her child. And that thought perversely brought her back to a boil as she began to feel that lovely tingling in her crotch again.

Carl moved his penis from her ring finger up to her breasts, and smeared the remnants of his cum all over her lovely nipples. Then he knee-walked up the sofa so that he could rub his cock along her cheeks, across her lips, and even over her eyelids. He even briefly slapped her face with his rigid cock, cum flying from the tip into her hair and ears.

Carol reached up and grabbed Carl's cock very hard, gripping with enough strength that she knew it probably hurt him. She pulled downward and with such a firm grip, he was persuaded to obey. He scooted himself a foot or so down her body, until she could take his cock into her mouth. John, for some reason, didn't really like her to suck his cock, but Carl didn't seem to mind at all. She tilted her head up and took as much of him into her mouth as she could, and was again reminded of how much bigger he was than her husband -- she couldn't fit Carl's entire cock into her mouth without gagging.

Carl was soon fucking her mouth, and to her surprise, she really enjoyed it. She grabbed him by his thighs and somewhat controlled the force and depth of his strokes into her lips, but after not too long, he became so insistent that she let him have his way, and he pounded into her face until his cock spurted into her mouth. She was surprised -- in part, because it had been years - since high school - that she had taken cum in her mouth, and she had forgotten how hard it would hit her throat and with how much force, and in part she was surprised because there really wasn't all that much of it. As a younger girl, whenever she had fantasized about doing this thing, she had imagined that she would gag on a gross and gigantic mouthful of slimy fluid, but it wasn't that way at all. His second ejaculation of the day was watery, with a slightly chemical taste but not really unpleasant, and there was only about a teaspoon of it. She easily swallowed it and wondered what all the fuss was about.

But for Carl, it was another triumph over his latest conquest. Kneeling over her naked body, his powerful organ thrusting into her beautiful face, he pictured her as the prim, well-turned-out school teacher who was so attentive and proper in his classroom. When he bowed his back and thrust his cock against the back of her throat, cum spewing out into her mouth, he felt his dominance over her was complete. She was his in a way he was sure her husband had never had her. And in that, he was right.

After his second cum of the day, Carl's cock definitely was drooping, but he knew what he must do to ensure that she would be his sex slave for the whole semester. He dropped off of the couch to his knees beside her, and pulled her legs out from under the afghan, until she was sitting up on the couch again. He pushed her legs apart, and moved his head between them until his nose encountered her wet pubic hair.

John seldom went down on Carol, and had never eaten her after they had had intercourse. But here was her professor on his knees, seemingly joyful while lapping away at her still-sensitive pussy lips. As he slid his tongue up and down along her slit, she oddly became less sensitive, and more receptive to the sexy feelings building up down there again. She felt Carl's tongue actually pushing into her vagina, now again closed up after they had finished fucking, and therefore squeezing out their combined juicy come into his mouth. Carl always liked this part; it didn't really do anything for him personally, but it gave him time to recharge , and the women invariably loved it, and never seemed to have experienced it before with other men. Too bad for them Carl thought, and good for me.

For him, it was a blind exercise. The taste and smell were strong, but sexy, but he couldn't see anything ... his eyes were only fractions of an inch away from her sex. He felt her pubic hairs all over his face, and occasionally got a loose one in his mouth or stuck in his teeth. He just ignored it, and proceeded from licking along her slit, first at the outer lips, then along the inner lips, alongside the inner lips, then pushing into her cunt as if his tongue were a little soft, dexterous penis, then, finally, licking back out then up to that bulge where the lips of her opening joined, where he knew her sensitive clitoris was located. He rarely could actually feel it there ... his tongue just wasn't that discerning. It just felt warm, and smooth, and wet, but he always knew when he had found the spot from the reaction he got.

And Carol was no different. Her reaction was mostly physical ... what he was doing down there was heavenly. But it was also acutely emotional, because she was being made love to in a way she had never experienced before. Here was this man, older than her, in a more prestigious position than she held, her mentor and her professor, kneeling before her licking her sloppy sex as if it were the best thing he could imagine. She was soaring, and when he started in on her button, she spasmed into another climax nearly as good as the first.

They rested for a little while and then fucked again. Carl made her tell him again that she knew it wasn't making love, just fucking, but she was more than willing to say that, or anything, in order to enjoy again the illicit thrill of giving her cunt without restraint to this man, this man with the big, demanding cock, this man who wasn't her husband. Carl had already cum twice today, so it took him a long time to cum again in Carol's cunt, but when he did, it felt so strong that it actually hurt him in his balls a little. Ironically, while he was being slow to finish, Carol was if anything more charged up than before, and she had plenty of time to think about the luscious sinfulness of what she was doing. She surrendered herself with abandon to the joy of committing the delightful sin of adultery.

And, she was already planning to do more of it as soon as she could manage.

John was sitting in front of his computer, revising the site plan for a project which had to plotted out on Monday. But his cock was rock hard, because half of his mind was envisioning what he knew, or at least strongly suspected, was going on in his wife's professor's office right now.




Fall Semester



While his eyes watched the contour maps of the site taking shape on his screen, his mind's eye was filled with surprisingly accurate images of his lovely wife's body pulsing with orgasms beneath the powerful strokes of her older teacher.

In his mind's eye, he endowed Professor Fellows with a huge organ, much larger than it actually was. And his excitement, much like his wife's, was fueled at least in part by the thought of her purposefully betraying their marriage in order to sneak off and fuck the day away with another man.

He looked forward to seeing Carol tonight at home. Their love-making had tapered off in the last few years, and frankly had never been all that frequent or satisfying for either of them. But he perversely thought it would be fun to basically insist on screwing her tonight, knowing that she would probably be sore, tired, and wracked by guilt. He chuckled at the thought.

He didn't want to interfere with her affair, and he was almost certain that that was what was going on after what he saw last night as she was getting home after her "date" with her professor. He wanted her to have a good time, and he realized that a big part of that would be thinking that she was "cheating" on him, even though he knew what she was doing, or at least thought he did. Let her have her fun, it's what he would want if the roles were reversed, and if his sex drive wasn't so apparently weak.

Carol put herself together in Carl's office after their second time fucking. Carl found a roll of paper towels, and wet a few of them for them to use to clean up with, and had some aromatic lotion she could use to also help disguise the reek of sex on her body.

After they both got as clean as possible from this improvised sponge-bath, they got dressed and kissed rather chastely, and Carol slipped her coat on and left Carl's office to go to her car, her head awhirl with memories of her incredible day's adventure and the likelihood of more to come.

She was just starting to back her car out of the parking space when she was startled by a rapping on the driver's-side window. It was Carl, waving her forgotten wallet.

Carol wasn't expecting it. But Carl was.

In fact, he was counting on it. He had been down this road several times before, after all, and these things always took a certain course. It took a few weeks, but eventually they entered the next phase of their relationship, which to him seemed inevitable.

When Carol got home that Saturday evening after picking up John from his office, it became clear that John was unusually interested in having sex with her; she found herself still a little turned on from her earlier activities in the day with Carl, and was actually more than willing to enjoy John's unexpected advances. It was good with John, she felt, but it wasn't filled with the passion and the bitter-sweet taste of naughtiness that her experience with Carl had had.

But as usual, John was a gentle and considerate lover, and she was wracked with guilt and shame while they making love, her mind more on her earlier transgressions than on John's plunging penis. Still, she surprised herself by having an orgasm in the process. Carol was surprised, but John wasn't. He knew what was on her mind, and vicariously enjoyed the thought of her being used several times that day by himself and her college professor.

Carol felt flattered, actually, that she seemed sexy enough to two different men on that day to have them each swollen with desire for her body. And, although she didn't tell either of them, she was also quite relieved since she hadn't taken any precautions against pregnancy with Carl, and was careful not to take any with John, either. Now, should she actually become pregnant, it was perfectly plausible that the baby might just as easily be John's as Carls' Well, maybe not just as easily, but plausible all the same.

Carol was an English teacher, and words were her profession. She had always kept a journal, in which she recorded her thoughts and feelings. The events of her life didn't seem completely real to her until she wrote them down in her journals, and although she knew there was a little risk in doing so, when she got home, she dutifully wrote down what had happened to her last night and today in quite a bit of detail, including the unique experience of fucking three times in one day, and with two different men.

On the Tuesday following their weekend encounter on campus, Carol was extremely nervous. She had had a real soul-searching in the wee hours of Sunday morning, as she tried to get to sleep after making love to her husband. She realized that what she had done might be very damaging to her marriage, and could hurt badly many people she loved -- not only her husband and daughter, but her mother, and John's mother and father. The thought of the shame she would feel if what she had done was revealed was overwhelming, and she couldn't believe what she had let herself do. It was so out of character for her.

All during class, Carol couldn't meet Professor Fellows' eyes. Uncharacteristically, she didn't participate in the classroom discussion, and just quietly stared at her notebook, making copious notes. As the end of class neared, she began to gather up her jackets, purse, and books, eager to be among the first students to leave the room and not have to confront her professor afterward.

Carl could see that Carol was avoiding his gaze. He knew what she was going through ... he'd had a few uncomfortable "morning after" confrontations with female students before. But he guessed Carol was more ashamed and feeling guilty about herself than angry at him -- she was the kind of person that he knew would take responsibility for her own actions.

The professor could see that she was prepared to bolt out of the classroom as soon as he dismissed the class, and he certainly didn't want that. She was at a very vulnerable place right now, and he knew, if he was careful, he could exploit that in order to keep her coming back for more.

A couple of minutes before the scheduled end of the class, he summed up the topic at hand. "So, for Thursday, finish "Great Expectations," and read Chapter Seven in your texts, I think it's 'The Birth and Forms of The Modern Novel. I'd like to see Art Jester and Carol Kelly before you leave; the rest of you, we'll see you Thursday evening!"

Carol and Art Jester waited by the professor's desk while the other students noisily filed out. Carol was very anxious not to talk with her professor, but she didn't see how she could avoid it with the other student standing right there. That is what Carl had counted on.

Once the other students were gone, Carl said "Mr. Jester, I didn't receive the assigned paper from you last Thursday, and I see you haven't turned it in this evening, either. This isn't high school, Mr. Jester, so I'll not cajole you into doing your work for my class. If you don't want to be here, I'll simply drop you from enrollment. Is that what you'd like?"

"Oh, no, sir! I have just had a lot going on. I'll get the paper in to you by next time, for sure!"

"See that you do, Mr. Jester. I know you're taking this class pass/fail, but three missed assignments will make your failure a certainty!"

"Okay, Professor Fellows! I'll give it to you Thursday!" All the students in the class were young, but all were adults, generally in their twenties. Carol didn't know Art Jester, but right then, his body language looked more like one of her wayward junior high-school students. Jester made a quick exit, eager to get away from the embarrassment of being chastised in front of another student, especially, a cute young woman.

Carol still wasn't meeting Carl's eyes. "Carol, we need to talk, don't you think?"

"I don't know, Professor Fellows," Carol replied. It wasn't lost on Carl that she was using his title and last name now, trying to put their relationship back onto a more "professional" footing.

"Carol, we can't pretend that Saturday didn't happen. It did happen, and I for one found it delightful. I know you're probably having recriminating thoughts now, but we can't finish this class without resolving our feelings toward each other. Come with me over to the Student Union, and we'll get some coffee and talk this through. Believe me, we'll both feel better about everything, and I think I can set your mind at ease about what happened." 

He used that phrase very carefully .. 'what happened' ... as if their steamy sex session was just an accident, a moment's bad judgment. It wasn't something 'we have done,' it 'just happened,' as if the event had a will of it's own, or it was an act of fate or even God's will. Carl knew Carol might be persuaded to think so. After all, losing her wallet in his car on Friday was the accident that had set in motion the occasion of the two of them meeting in his office when no one else was around, and then, one thing had just led to another. Carl would never tell her, of course, that he had slipped the wallet out of her purse on Friday evening for that very purpose. Everything was unfolding according to his plan.

They skirted around the issue on both their minds while they walked across the campus from the classroom building to the Student Union. They got their coffee; it was always served in paper cups, and Carl quickly grabbed lids, and said, "There's no privacy here, Carol. Let's take our coffees somewhere where we can discuss this confidentially."

Carol could see where this was going. She wasn't experienced in this sort of thing, but she was far from stupid, and could see that Carl was trying to get her alone again. She knew she shouldn't agree, but Carl was already on his way out the door with his coffee, and she followed along, wondering what she was doing and why. Her mind wandered to the exciting feelings she had experienced Friday night and Saturday, and she decided maybe she would defer a decision to walk away until she found out what her professor had in mind.

When they arrived in Carl's office that night, they spent no time at all discussing any of this, though. Carl took her coffee and set it with his on his big oaken desk. He placed his briefcase on the large conference table he had in the middle of the room, and took Carol's books to place there, also. Carol had just draped her jacket over her shoulders; Carl simply lifted it off her shoulders, and hooked it on his coat tree along with his own.

Consciously or subconsciously, Carol had dressed defensively that Tuesday night. She was wearing a pull-over cotton sweater and corduroy slacks, and of course, her practical flats. Under her sweater she had on a button-down chambray shirt and under that, her least-flattering wired-cup brassiere. Under her cords, she was wearing panty-hose and under them, large cotton "granny-pants." She was in a cocoon of clothing, her body isolated from the temptations of the world. But Carl Fellows was not so easily deterred. He simply started to peel away the layers.

Carl grabbed the bottom of Carol's sweater and tugged it upwards. This would tell him how the evening was going to go. When she lifted her arms to allow him to ease it off over her head, he had his answer.

Carl patiently unbuttoned the long row of buttons down the front of Carol's blouse. She looked down at his hands as if she were in a trance ... not helping, but not resisting, either. Carl carefully unbuttoned the cuff at each wrist. When he had the blouse entirely unbuttoned, he untucked the tail out of the waist of her cords and pulled it off. Here, perhaps unconscious of her action, Carol did help a little, shrugging a little to ease the blouse off of her arms and shoulders.

Carol expected now to feel the defenselessness of partial nudity, but Carl surprised her by bypassing her dowdy brassiere. He knelt down, and lifted her left foot, and gently slipped her foot out of its shoe. He repeated the process with her right foot. 

From his knees, Carl unfastened Carol's stylish conch belt, unbuttoned the waist of her cords, and zipped down the zipper at the front. He gently tugged at the slacks, and they came down, at first binding around her knees, then, with his tugging insistence, all the way down to form a puddle of fabric at her ankles.

Carol looked down, and not really believing how far she was straying from her intention to tell Carl that there would be nothing more between them physically, she lifted first one foot, then the other so he could ease her slacks off of her legs. He threw them on the small pile of clothing accumulating on the floor in front of the desk.

Carol felt foolish standing there in her pantyhose and bra. Her hose had a small run on the upper thigh of her left leg ... that's why she reserved them for wear with slacks. She had hardly felt so ill-at-ease in her whole life as she did at that moment. And yet, paradoxically, she also felt excited and was beginning to feel that blossom of pressure and tingling in her breasts and between her legs that informed her that she was going from caution and reserve toward passion and abandon yet again here with her professor.

Carl surprised Carol again by standing and starting to remove his own clothes. He handed her her coffee, as if to say, "Relax and have a sip, while I get ready to ravish you again." Carol quickly drank her lukewarm coffee, wondering if she really needed the caffeine, considering how nervous she already was. While she drank it, Carl removed his shirt and tie, his shoes and socks, and his trousers. Now the two of them were standing there, facing one another in their underwear.

Carl reached over and tugged at the waist of Carol's torn panty-hose, pulling them down a couple of inches. "Take off your panty-hose, Carol," Carl directed her. He wanted her to participate in her own debauchery; he wanted her to signify not just that she would go along with what he wanted, but that she would act, too, to make it happen.

Carol rolled the panty-hose down to the crotch, then sat down on the old leather sofa and skinned the legs of her hose down her slender thighs and calves, and finally, off of her feet. She tossed them onto the pile of clothing, his and hers tangled together there on the floor of his office.

Carl just looked at her for a few seconds. Then Carol reached behind her back and unhooked her functional white brassiere. She knew that she wanted Carl to see her breasts again. She wanted his to touch them again. She wanted him to fuck her again, and she knew this wouldn't be their last time together here. She began to hope there would be many more.

When Carol tossed her bra onto the pile of clothes, he dropped his briefs down his legs and stepped out of them, leaving him completely naked, and with a protruding erect penis waving obscenely in front of him. He stepped toward the sofa and reached down to remove Carol's only remaining piece of clothing -- her dowdy white cotton panties. When he tugged at them, Carol lifted her hips up to allow them to slip down her slightly-parted legs. When they reached her ankles, she lightly kicked them off and across the room, where they landed n the table on top of their books.

Carl and Carol simply fell into each other's arms, kissing deeply and hungrily massaging one another's sensitive areas. Within moments of entering the office, they were both naked and sprawled on the couch in a sixty-nine position, making noisy oral love to one another, resulting in only a few minutes more in a satisfying climax for each of them.

Within a half an hour more, they were fucking furiously, with Carol kneeling on the couch cushion, leaning on the upholstered arm, her shapely ass raised up for her professor's use, while Carl, behind her, was pounding his swollen member into her sopping-wet cunt from behind (a position John never used) while he reached below her to grasp at her dangling tits and pinch her erect nipples. To be sure, Carl hadn't neglected to ask Carol, before they crossed over that threshold from petting to intercourse, to tell him again that she knew that what they were about to do was not love, but fucking, and she readily said the words. She added that this afternoon, before coming to campus she had inserted her diaphragm and spermicide, not knowing for sure whether she "would want to be fucked again by her professor."

Their fuck ended with Carl shooting his semen into Carol's juicy cunt, and he was excited enough to maintain his erection for the few more minutes it took for Carol to reach a thundering climax herself. Afterwards, they lay under the warmth of the afghan, cuddled together on the couch, their gooey crotches rubbing gently together in the afterglow and dripping cum onto the cracked old leather, while Carl absently toyed with Carol's lovely breasts.

Carol gathered up her clothes, and was startled when Carl produced a big thermos of warm water to bathe themselves with. She laughed at his impertinence, yet she was thrilled by the fact that he correctly assumed she would come to his office to have sex again this evening. She was so stimulated by the idea that he assumed he would be fucking her again tonight, and that he saw her as some insatiable sexual creature, that she attacked him, and they had a very vigorous and satisfying second fuck session, this time with Carol riding Carl's vertically erect cock while his hands, free from supporting himself, were busy mauling her breasts like he was kneading wads of dough.

Finally, they had had enough (for now), and Carol realized it was getting late ... maybe later than usual for her evenings at the college. They took a sponge-bath with the wash cloths and warm water from the thermos, and dried themselves on fresh towels Carl had brought from home for the purpose.

When Carol got home, she got out her private journal and wrote down everything she could remember about her exciting day.

For a while, Carol and Carl got on like gang-busters. Their relationship was almost like three separate relationships, each kept in its own compartment. This allowed them to keep up appearances and pretend (in Carol's case, even to herself) at least most of the time, that what they were doing was okay and just innocent fun.

In the classroom, Carl was every inch the wise older savant and counselor to his students, and gave Carol the attention she deserved in class, but no more. Carol was her usual academic self, which is to say, a terrific student and an enthusiastic, well-prepared, and intelligent classroom participant. She was earning a solid "A" in the class, and earning it entirely on her merits as a scholar, with no preference expected or given for outside influences.

In a social way, Carl and Carol became friends. They enjoyed each other's company, and spent many hours over the course of Carol's semester of recertification training batting about deep ideas and laughing over arcane trivia buried in old literature. They each wondered whether maybe they had stumbled into something more than just a casual affair. And it was here that Carl's proximity alarms started to sound in the back of his mind. It was time to put a little distance in between them, perhaps.

Physically, they were at first insatiable. Twice a week, the two of them would retire to Carl's office after class and pick up right where they had left off. Carol's journal entries were becoming extensive, and she enjoyed reading through them before hiding her little book away in her secret hiding place.

Whenever Carol was out of the house for a predictable hours or more, John would dig out her journal and read the latest installment of her wild affair with her professor. She was getting a major amount of sex two days a week (and of course, once on a Saturday!) Ironically, their married sex life had also improved; it was as if Carol's appetite for being fucked had been reawakened by her lewd sessions at the campus, and she couldn't seem to get through the days when she didn't go to school without some fucking. Even if it had to be with her husband. But John was glad she enjoying herself. He certainly was!




Fall Semester



One Thursday afternoon, Carl was meeting in his office with the head of his department, a Professor Barry Rosen. Rosen observed, "Carl, you old bastard, I see you're up to your old tricks, again this semester!"

"What do you mean, 'my old tricks?'" Carl asked.

"You know exactly what I mean, you old horn-dog. I've seen you around a couple of times with some new cute young thing from one of your classes. You seem to have a way of finding yourself a new piece of ass every year, and this semester, Carl, I think you've outdone yourself. This one's a cutie, and sexy-looking as hell. Exactly my cup of tea. I'd love a chance at her as myself!"

Just then, there was a knock at Carl's office door. Rosen leaned over to open it, and, speak of the devil, there stood Carol. She knew Carl didn't have classes to teach on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons because of his evening classes. She had realized that she needn't wait at her school, grading student papers, when she could just come directly to campus after the end of school at 2:30, so she and Carl could spend the time having glorious sinful sex in his office before they went to class.

The three of them were momentarily speechless. Carol was disappointed that her plan to ravage Carl unexpectedly by this early visit was to be stifled by the presence of this other person. Carl and Barry were shocked to be looking at the object of their lustful musings.

Carl recovered first. "Carol, I'd like you to meet Dr. Barry Rosen. Professor Rosen is the head of the English Department here on this campus."

Barry rose during the introduction, and extended his hand to the object of his fantasies. Carol attempted to shake his hand, but Rosen took it and lifted it to his mouth to kiss it in the style of a mannered costume drama. He actually said, "Enchanted, my dear," while holding onto her hand for maybe a few seconds longer than was comfortable for her.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it, then," Rosen said, moving to the door and sliding out past Kern. "I've got to get ready for the big budget meeting tomorrow. And," with his eyebrows raised, "Carl, remember what I told you, huh?"

"Yeah, Barry, I'll see what I can do for you."

As soon as he was gone, Carl pushed the door closed, locked it, and the two of them started a marathon afternoon of fucking. They managed to get to class only a few minutes late, cunningly entering separately to disguise their association from the rest of the class, as if any of them cared one way or the other. After class, they rushed back to Carl's office for another session of wild fucking before Carol finally headed home, exhausted. Her own student's homework papers would have to be graded tomorrow, or maybe over the weekend or maybe, what the hell, maybe not at all.

Carol was living at her sexual peak, and she had drained her older professor completely. He was glad he would have the weekend to recover; he had cum twice before they went to class, once when she had given him head, deep-throating him for the first time, and then again when they fucked. Then he had cum again while fucking this young wife and mother after class. That was record for him, and he had to admit to himself, that Carol, more than any of his other campus conquests, rang his bells louder (and more often!) than they had ever been rung before, and he just couldn't seem to get enough of her. But he finally may have met one that he couldn't dominate.

The next week followed this pattern, with Carol coming to Carl's office at about three in the afternoon, twice a week, and the two of them fucking until they had to get ready for class, then coming again up to his office after class for another fuck or two. Finally, Carl had to tell Carol that he just couldn't keep up this pace. She could come before class or after, but not both.

Actually, Carol had just about reached that decision herself. And it was here that the pattern that Carl had always realized in these affairs was being duplicated. After weeks of steamy sex, the novelty, frankly, was simply wearing off. A lot of what turned Carol on about her sex with her professor was the naughtiness of it, how different Carl was from her husband, and how illicit their trysts in his office were. And a lot of what got Carl so turned on was that Carol was a new conquest, another victim of his self-styled rampant manhood and power.

But after a while, it just wasn't new any more. There wasn't really much risk, and after weeks of familiarity, the sex was starting to seem like, well, like plain old sex with the same old person. Carol wasn't perfect, and Carl found her quite a bit too assertive, sometimes, to properly fulfill his fantasies of domination. And for Carol's part, now that the sexual haze was clearing a bit, she could see that Carl was a skinny, divorced, middle-aged guy, for all his intellectual prowess and sexual energy. 

For that matter, Carl's sexual energy wasn't all that it had been. When Carl couldn't get it up any more, he would often service Carol with his mouth, and he soon realized he was doing this from some sense of obligation. Similarly, when Carol was on her period, she would rather have just avoided any sexual contact at all, but she felt she owed Carl something, so she would come to his office and suck him dry. In both cases, it was okay, it felt good, but it wasn't the passionate, wild explosion that they had enjoyed at first. Little by little, it started to feel like they were a couple ... kind of like they were a married couple.

Carl knew the signs. Often, now, they would go to the coffee shop after class instead of up to his office, not really ready for making the effort of more sex together. When they were together, they usually only had sex once, maybe with some oral foreplay, but only one orgasm each. And frankly, that's all either of them really wanted, now. Now and then, one or the other of them would "beg off" a meeting, Carl saying there was a mandatory faculty meeting, or Carol that she had to take her daughter to the doctor, or both of them just taking a pass, and neither questioning it too much.

But the semester wasn't over; Thanksgiving was next week, so there would only be a couple more classes, and Carl didn't want it to end this way. He hadn't completely dominated her as he had hoped, and he thought he knew of a way to make her do that one more demeaning thing that would prove to both of them that his was the will that she obeyed.

On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, after their class, and after their now-usual and somewhat tepid fuck in his office, Carl broached the topic. "Carol, aren't you having fun anymore with me?"

"Oh, Carl, I wouldn't be here if I weren't enjoying being with you!" Carol whispered.

"Yes, but, you've got to admit," Carl went on, "we're just not as hot for it as we were at first."

"Well, I guess that's to be expected," Carol admitted, "once we've been together so many times." Carol had been keeping a mental tally, and recently realized that she'd probably fucked her college professor in this semester more times than she'd ever fucked her husband in their ten years of marriage. It was bound to get a little familiar after a while.

"Want to try something to spice things up a little?" Carl asked, with a devilish smile on his face that she hadn't seen for weeks.

"Sure, I guess ... depends on what it is you've got in mind."

"Leave that to me," Carl said. "Just come early for class on Tuesday next week, and I'll have a surprise for you. You'll enjoy it, I'm sure!"

Carol wasn't so sure, actually, and said so, "Carl, I don't know that I'm prepared to do just anything with you, you know. We've had some fun, but I don't know what you have in mind!"

"Just trust me, sweetie."

The Tuesday after Thanksgiving was a typical Colorado winter's day. It had snowed the night before, and all that day the temperatures remained low, but the sky was crystal clear. The sun shined with a power never felt by people at sea level, and in spite of the freezing cold, the snow on the streets melted from the solar radiation. When it ran away into the shadows, it froze again quickly, creating sheets of ice in the gutters, and icicles hanging from the eaves of houses.

Wondering what Carl was up to, Carol was distracted all day from her teaching, and her students, a little wound up still from the two-day vacation last week and beginning to anticipate Christmas Break (it was still called that, then), razzed her all day about little mistakes and lapses in concentration.

By 2:30, Carol was tingling with excitement again as she hadn't been since that first encounter with Carl in his old Plymouth. When the final bell rang and the kids went home, she packed up her materials and rushed to get to her car in her hurry to get to campus and satisfy her curiosity and to satisfy that craving she was feeling again for the illicit sex she had enjoyed so much.

She tried to overcome her eagerness and drive carefully, being aware of the icy conditions. She certainly didn't want to have a wreck, but even more so, she didn't want to miss whatever it was that Carl had cooked up for her.

As usual, Carl had paused when he was about to enter her with his penis, and asked her, once again, "You know, Carol, we aren't going to make love here. This is fucking"

"I know."

"Then say it!"

"This is fucking, Professor Fellows, just fucking, just like the dozens of other times we've fucked here on your couch. Fucking, not love!" Carol said, as she pushed herself up underneath him while guiding his cock straight into her pussy, where it went in all the way in a single stroke.

They both knew that something was going to be different today, but Carol could only wonder what it might be. Nothing was different so far.

Carl knew, though, and he was aware when the door to his office opened and closed quietly, admitting Barry Rosen. While Carol continued fucking her hips up at Carl Fellows, Barry Rosen watched while he silently took off his own clothes, revealing the pudgy body of a sedentary man in his mid-fifties, but one with a rampant erection, an erection larger yet than Professor Fellows', and much larger than what Carol had become accustomed to at home with her husband, John.

"Remember, Carol, it's just fucking. Just fucking. A different cock for you," Carl said as he stopped his rhythmic thrusting, and withdrew his penis from her warm, wet vagina. He knew he had been seeping pre-cum into her, pre-cum fully loaded with vital sperm. Carol's eyes opened, and she looked at him quizzically, then gasped a little when she focused beyond him to see Dr. Rosen, naked and with the largest cock she had ever seen on a man, approaching the couch as Carl got up and moved to the door to lock it, before sitting at his desk to watch.

Carol realized then what Carl's special activity was; this was one of the possibilities she had considered that he might come up with. And she had already made up her mind to go along with it, if that was what it was. The allure of the forbidden, a new, unfamiliar sex partner, was too strong to resist by her newly awakened libido.

With Barry Rosen, there were no preliminaries; Professor Fellows had gotten her well warmed up, and well moistened. Rosen took only a moment to slide his cock-head up and down a few times along the length of her slit, then he paused to be sure he was lined up correctly, and simply slammed his cock deep into her cunt. As large as it was, Rosen had no resistance at all pushing his much larger penis, steely-hard now, into her receptive cunt. The violence of his unexpected thrust literally took Carol's breath away, but it also dislodged her diaphragm. This forceful assault into her vagina was something completely new to Carol. She certainly could feel the difference! She placed her arms alongside her head, grabbed the arm of the sofa behind her, smiled and stretched, pushing her slender young torso upward against the pudgy belly of the man above her to engulf every inch of this new, more filling rod.

Rosen, for his part, said nothing. He had been fantasizing about this moment for weeks, since he and Carl Fellows had been interrupted by Carol at Carl's office door. He braced himself with one arm on the sofa and one foot on the floor, using the other hand to manipulate Carol's luscious breasts, breasts he had been dreaming of for weeks. His thrusts were different from Carl's (and certainly different from John's!) -- whereas Carl would slide his penis out a few inches then slide it back in until it was nearly all the way in, Rosen yanked himself out until only the head of his cock was left in her pussy and her inner lips were distended, being pulled outward by the girth of his shaft. Then, leaning his whole weight towards her, he would slam his entire length into her cunt, bottoming out every time. She had never felt anything touch the depths Dr, Rosen was reaching with his cock now, and his rough and demanding style was thrilling to her, fulfilling her joy in being taken completely by a total stranger. Every plunge was a hydraulic ram into her vagina that forced Fellows' earlier semen deposit up through her cervix into her uterus.

Rosen was older than Carl by several years, and Carl in turn was a decade or more older than Carol. Rosen's sexual response, in spite of his excitement and enthusiasm was much slower to develop, so their fuck lasted a long time -- long enough for Carol to have several orgasms, which Barry Rosen and Carl Fellows both enjoyed watching (and hearing) very much. This young woman was giving herself willingly to these two old men and seemed to be loving it! As she climaxed, her pussy tightened around Rosen's penis, further squeezing the potent, sperm-laden semen up through her uterus into her fallopian tubes.

Rosen had refrained from masturbating for a week (sex with his own wife was a thing of the past). When he finally felt the tightening between his balls and his asshole that he knew signaled the oncoming orgasm, he knew it was going to be a strong one. He involuntarily pushed his rigid cock even harder into Carol's sopping, slimy cunt and began pumping semen into her as she hit another great orgasm from feeling his sex juice shoot up into her cleft. As they cummed together, Carl, watching from beside the couch, also began to shoot his seminal fluid, and it landed across Carol's breasts, throat and face.

Rosen seemed to continue ejaculating forever, but it could only have been for a minute or less. After the apex of his cum, but while he was still cumming strongly, he began pumping into her again, churning their mixed fluids into a froth around her cunt lips, and forcing the mixed ejaculations further into Carol's fertile organs. Fellows reached in and rubbed his semen all over Carol's breasts and face, then leaned forward to rub his still-erect penis on her face, finally pushing into her mouth. Carol didn't resist. She had completely surrendered to the beast within herself, willing to perform any act, however perverted or obscene, with anyone, as long as he had a nice, hard cock to push into her.

Carl called the Department office, and had them send a runner over to the classroom building to post a note on the door that class had been cancelled for the day.

After Barry finally finished his huge cum into Carol's twat, he pulled out and sagged to the floor of the office. He pulled Carol down with him, wrenching her away from Carl's cock, which she had been sucking. The combined juices of Carl's, Barry's, and Carol's cums were drooling out of her sopping twat, and left a slimy trail across the leather of the old couch. She landed on top of Rosen's pudgy body on the floor of Fellows' office.

Rosen's cock was now soft and somewhat smaller. But Fellows was ready to go again. He had no idea whether Carol was ready, and didn't really care. He lay on the faux Persian rug on the floor of his office, and pulled Carol off of Rosen's tubby body, and over onto his own. She knew what he wanted, and sat up, straddled his hips, and reached down between her legs to grab his erection and guide it into herself, ignoring the over-sensitivity from just having been royally fucked by a massive prick. She lowered herself onto Carl's cock, and fell back into that sexual haze, a trance in which she just lifted herself up and lowered herself down until her whole world was the fantastic feelings of a man's hands all over her tits and a man's cock, some man other than her husband, some man who only wanted her for sex, that man's cock throbbing up into her again and again as she pumped herself into another frenzy, then climaxed again and again, until finally, Carl prepared to shoot a load of semen into her sopping-wet cunt.

As she felt her professor's cok begin to throb, and she knew he was about to spew his semen into her, she felt a new sensation. Rosen had recovered himself, and watching Carol impaling herself onto Fellows' prick had given him a new, raging hard-on. Kneeling behind Carol while she was still astride Fellows' cock, Rosen rubbed the tip of his drooling, cum-sodden penis up and down through Carol's butt crack. He reached down between his legs and felt around for her anal opening (he couldn't see it -- his own belly was in the way!) When he found it, he reached behind himself and grabbed the squeeze bottle of aromatic lotion he had seen on Fellows' desk and squeezed a large dollop of lotion into his hand, then applied it liberally within Carol's butt-crack. She tensed and flinched away from his hand and the coldness of the lotion, yanking hard on Carl's cock which was embedded in her cunt. He gave a grunt; it hurt, but it also felt kind of good. He started again to thrust his hips into her, seeking to reach his climax; some of the lotion dribbled down onto his scrotum.

Meanwhile, Rosen was massaging Carol's ass-crack, then gently pushed a finger into her asshole. She was shocked and distracted from enjoying her professor's efforts, and yelped out, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Push out a little," Rosen said, "it'll open up and we can both fuck you at once!" It was at this point that Carol knew she had gone too far. She knew people did anal intercourse, but she never imagined that she would be asked to do it. John certainly would never dream of such a thing! She knew it was probably impossible to avoid it now, but having two men at once, one of them in her asshole, was farther down this road than she really wanted to travel. And yet, her perverted need to prove to herself that she was willing to step beyond her "nice" persona and intentionally be evil, made her brace herself against the pain she realized she was about to experience, and cooperate in her own debauchment.

To accommodate Rosen, Carol pushed out as if she were on the toilet, and Rosen said, "Oh, yeah, like that!" He pushed in another finger, and Fellows paused his thrusting. Carl could feel something moving along his cock as Rosen's fingers probed Carol's anus.

Then Rosen lodged his cockhead against Carol's ass; the bulge of her ass cheeks was going to keep him from getting it all into her, but his cock was long enough to give her asshole a great fucking. Dr. Rosen was not a sophisticated lover; he had only one speed and technique for humping his cock into a woman, and Carol was expecting what happened next.

Barry Rosen forced his hips forward as hard as he could, and his rigid penis plunged into Carol's lubricated opening. Carol had been expecting it, but she could never have prepared herself for the pain that went with it. It was almost like childbirth, or, more so, like having a huge bowel movement when she had been constipated for days. She cried out with her pain, "Oh, fuck! Wait! That hurts!"

Fellows could feel Rosen's cock slide along the length of his own cock as it thrust so suddenly into her ass. Rosen also was in pain, as the penetration into Carol's tight anal opening had spread the sensitive head of his penis, tearing the split that ran down it from the opening at its tip. He also cried out, "Jesus!"




Fall Semester



But Barry Rosen wasn't one to quit easily. He pulled back to where his cockhead was still barely buried in Carol's asshole, and as he did, a frothy tan-colored foam of the mixture of hand lotion and shit oozed out around him. He plunged back into her, thrusting again as hard as he could, actually relishing the little bit if residual pain he felt on the tip of his cock.

Below them both, Fellows started to try to fuck Carol's cunt from below, but the weight of both Carol and Barry on top of him made it difficult. But he had been close to his climax even before Rosen started to probe Carol's ass, and simply the idea of how the two of them were ravishing this sexy and adulterous wife and mother was enough for him to start squirting sperm-laden semen into Carol's snatch.

Rosen had reached around Carol to squeeze her right tit, grabbing a fistful of it and gripping it tightly, or just pinching her nipple as hard as he could, forcing his fingernails into the tender flesh. Below her, Fellows used his right hand to slap her left breast as hard as he could, hitting it with his open hand again and again, every time he thrust up into her cunt. Carol didn't really quit feeling pain from Rosen's fucking of her ass, but as she was subjected to this additional pain and humiliation, she also started to feel a heightened sexual excitement and pleasure, and when she felt Fellows' cock bulging in her cunt then start to ejaculate into her again, she, too began a massive climax.

Her body stiffened, and both Fellows and Rosen realized she was experiencing a powerful cum. Fellows' cum was almost painful, it was so strong, and Rosen could feel Carl's throbbing penis through the walls of Carol's bowels. Rosen was tangled in the maze of legs behind them, and was a little self-conscious when he felt his balls drag along Fellows' sac underneath him. But Carol's climax triggered his own, and he forgot all that and began to squirt his semen into Carol's ass.

As the three of them finished their cums, Barry and Carol slumped down onto Fellows' body below them. "For Christ's sake," Fellows cried, hardly able to breathe, "you're squashing me down here! Get off of me!" He rolled to the side, and unceremoniously dumped his student and department head onto the floor alongside of him. As he did, his still somewhat erect penis plopped out of Carol's cunt, dragging after it her diaphragm, which fell out onto the floor along with copious amounts of semen and Carol's vaginal fluid.

Rosen pulled his softened cock out of Carol's tender and tormented ass, and reddish-tan foam gushed out after it, the churned up mixture of shit, semen and a little bit of blood from both of them. "Fuck, look at that!" he said, wiping his now-limp cock all over Carol's ass cheeks to clean it a little.

"Oh my God," Carol cried, "look at that!" as she saw her diaphragm lying there on the floor, slimy with sexual fluid. "Oh, my God!" She knew she had been taking a chance all along relying on an old-fashioned thing like a diaphragm and spermicide, but she never thought her wild sex would dislodge it completely. All sexual thoughts vanished as her heart was in her throat with anxiety, wondering if she was now pregnant with the baby of one of these men.

"Well," Rosen said, rolling over and giving the startled Carol a kiss on her lips, which were still covered with Fellows' earlier ejaculation, "that was fun. My office is right upstairs ... come on up any time you want to do that again!"

Rosen struggled to his feet, and pulled on his underwear and pants, not bothering to try to clean himself. "That was one great fuck! Carol, you're one hell of a sexy woman; I'm glad you like to fuck around on your husband! Carl, keep it up!" He laughed at his little joke, and with that, he grabbed up the rest of his clothes and shoes, and left Carl's office.

Carol was sitting up with her back against the couch, and Carl had gotten his breath back, and struggled to sit up beside her. He leaned in to kiss her, but she was in no mood any more for anything of the kind, and pulled away from him with disgust. She picked up the slimy rubber disc. "For Christ's sake, Carl, look at this! Don't you know what this is? Don't you know what this means?"

"Yeah, okay! It's you diaphragm!" Frankly, Carl wasn't worried in the least. This seemed to be Carol's problem, not his. "So maybe you got knocked up? Would that be such a bad thing? I mean, you're a married woman ... just go home and fuck your husband silly, and if you're pregnant, he won't know the difference!"

Carol slapped Carl hard across the face, the action sending her ample breasts jiggling. He couldn't help watching them with pleasure even while he rubbed his stinging cheek.

"You bastard!" Carol shouted. "I don't want to get pregnant! Not from you or that fat old man Rosen!" she cried. "If I'm going to have another baby, I want John's baby; I don't want some manipulating asshole's baby and then try to foist it off on John as his!"

"Well, then, honey," Carl said calmly, "you should use something more dependable for birth control, like the pill! Anyway, abortion's legal, now. Just get rid of it!"

Carol slapped him again, although the thought did pass through her mind that he was right. If she was going to continue to fuck around with other men, she better use a better birth control method.

"No!" she said to herself. "I'm done with all this! As good as it is (and, Good Lord, it is really good!), I know I've gone too far. I promise myself, if I just get away with it this time, I'll never stray on John again!" But even as she was thinking that, she knew that she might like to try out fucking some other guys. Maybe they weren't all assholes like her professor. Maybe there might be even bigger cocks and better orgasms out there somewhere!

While she was thinking all of this, she was cleaning herself up and getting dressed. Professor Fellows sat on his stained faux Persian rug, his limp penis dripping sadly on the floor, while he watched her. He knew it was over between him and her. And that suited him fine. It was time. At registration for Spring Semester, he had already seen the girl he wanted to seduce next, so he needed to move on. But today had been a fantastic finish to his time fucking Carol, and as far as he was concerned, it all couldn't have come out better.

Carol's final paper and final semester exam earned her "A's" again, and an "a" for the course, and she knew that her good grades were truly earned, not given out by her professor in return for what she had been doing. In the last couple of classes before the end of the semester and the start of Christmas break, neither she nor Professor Fellows said a word to each other. She stayed quiet in class and kept a low profile, just wanting to get her teaching accreditation and get out of there.

Carol's school also let out for Christmas Break, and she had a couple of weeks to get ready for Christmas. What with all the time she had spent up on campus getting fucked in Carl's office, she had let her holiday preparations go.

As cynical as Carl's suggestion about having sex with John to disguise her possible pregnancy, she knew that that was what she needed to do, and John was very pleased when Carol seemed all of a sudden to show an even higher level of sexual interest in him that she hadn't shown since they were dating. He knew from keeping up with her "secret" journal entries that she had been fucking around with her professor, and he figured that her libido was just tuned up several notches.

He also knew that now she was worried that all of her extra-marital fucking might have gotten her pregnant, and that her apparent sudden interest in sex with him wasn't entirely due to his own allure. Not only that, but he guessed that she was feeling a little deprived now that she wasn't getting fucked regularly after class twice a week.

Her period, usually very regular, was in fact very late. But, finally, just before Christmas, it did come, to her great relief.

When John saw the cylindrical cardboard tube in the bathroom trash can, he was a bit relieved, too. He actually wouldn't have minded if Carol had been pregnant, even if he couldn't have been sure that the baby was his own. John loved kids, and would have been happy to have another baby in the house. But the cardboard tube meant that Carol was menstruating, and therefore, there was no pregnancy. And he was happy for her that she didn't have to worry any more about being "caught" in her wild illicit fuck-fests by getting knocked up.

When he saw Carol the first time after seeing the used tampon sleeve, he smiled at her and said, "I see your period finally came. Good! I'm sure you're relieved!"

Carol was taken aback. What did he mean, exactly? He seldom even noticed when she had her periods. Why would he think she would be relieved and not uncomfortable as usual? Did he just think that maybe she had been worried about her health because her period was delayed? Or did he know something. Did he know EVERYTHING?! Surely, SURELY he didn't KNOW?

END