Paul leaned back in his office chair—the only piece of furniture left in the room that was his personal property—and gazed about musing. The office looked larger now that most of his possessions, acquired over a 30-year teaching career, were gone. As a full professor he had rated a space large enough for a small conference table and a pair of relatively comfortable upholstered chairs for conversation, all utilitarian. No oak paneling or furniture in sight. All that was left to go home were the vivid abstract paintings, their faces turned to the wall, and a single carton of books that stood by the door. The other boxes were filled with books going to the library or with papers to be shredded. Stripped of the evidence of his occupation, the office looked even larger. The memories of his life here still percolated through his mind, though.
If these walls could talk, he thought. Then chuckled remembering that even the cream-colored walls had a story attached. When he’d first moved in, he had asked university services if he could get his walls painted an actual color. The manager, a stern-faced bureaucrat, had replied with a firm, “No.” Then he asked, “What if I painted them myself and paid for the paint?” She informed him that this would constitute damage and that the cost of repainting would be docked from his pay. “When I leave the office?” he had asked brightly. “Within a month,” she responded with no change of expression. He had left shaking his head, sad for a woman who appeared to lack either empathy or a sense of humor.
His teaching career had happened here and in the classrooms downstairs, Now he was retiring. Some of his colleagues had asked why, knowing he was only 64. He could have stayed longer if he wished. But his closer friends understood. After his wife Anna had passed four years earlier, he had gone through a difficult time. He still missed her desperately, especially alone in bed at night, missing her warm body, their legs tangling, their bodies spooning.
Then, when the pandemic hit and he had to teach “virtually,” he had struggled with depression. Virtual was not his reality. He needed to be able to catch a student’s eye across the room and nod or otherwise acknowledge their contributions, their humanity. Paul believed that learning took place inside of relationships. He nurtured his students’ curiosity and demanded their best.
He looked out the window, watching the grounds people collecting fallen programs and masks from yesterday’s commencement. A few families were still packing up their children for the summer. It was gray with the thick humidity of mid-June while the morning cool lingered. The heat would come later. His mind wandered to his retirement party from the night before.
The event itself had surprised him by the large numbers in attendance. He had expected university colleagues, of course. But even the President had dropped by. There were also former friends and collaborators. What caught him off guard the most were the large numbers of former students, even some who had graduated that morning, parents in tow to introduce them to their “favorite teacher.” He was taken aback by how many told him of the role he played in their accomplishments. It took an effort not to demure and put the success back on them.
The party had wound down late, with a few close colleagues lingering, all of whom had been friends with Anna and him for many years. They reminisced a bit and bid some tearful farewells.
*
Paul was startled from his reverie by a light tap on his door. He looked up to see his friend Beth in the doorway. He invited her in with a smile. Not only had she been one of the junior faculty he had shepherded through tenure, but she had also become one of Anna’s closest friends as well as one of his. Beth had married Larry, a learning specialist, soon after her hire. Despite an age difference, the two couples had clicked, become good friends.
Beth’s appearance was what some would describe as racially ambiguous, which was fine with her as long as they didn’t ask what she was or where she was from, really. Black curls shot through with strands of white spilled to her shoulders, tight ringlets on a muggy day like this one. She had full lips, eyes so dark you had to see them up close know they were a rich dark brown, and what she jokingly referred to as “Colbert Ears.” She had not shed all of her baby weight after Allie was born, but it didn’t bother her. Anna had told Paul, with a tinge of envy, that Beth was not burdened by the insecurities about her appearance that beset so many women. Paul knew she kept fit as they both swam most mornings at the campus pool. What made Beth attractive were not her physical characteristics. It was that she was comfortable in her own skin and exuded vitality that could be infectious. As she entered Paul gave no thought to her looks; what he saw was a good friend he knew well. She had a slight smile on my face.
“Can I come in?’ she asked.
With his own smile, Paul responded, “Oh Beth, you know you’re Çankaya Escort always welcome, sit down, that chair doesn’t seem to have too much stuff on it.”
She laughed and cleared it off to sit a few feet away facing him. “No need to apologize. This place is more organized than I’ve ever seen it.”
“Quite a bash last night,” she followed with. “You better have taken in all that love and affection. You’ve touched so many so deeply.” She knew all too well how much he disliked that kind of attention.
“It was a bit overwhelming and,” he sighed, “And I was able to hear it and accept it.”
She smiled and nodded. Her face turning serious as she asked how he was. “This is a big transition for you, Paul. You know that I get why you’ve got to go, but I worry about you, especially alone in that house. I just want to remind you that Larry and I are always here for you.”
“You better not go away!” he chided. “I may not be just down the hall from your office anymore, but you only live a few blocks away.”
“True,” she said. “You’re also a known introvert, though god knows you hide it pretty good. I know you’re lonely without Anna. You ever think about going on a date?” They both knew that he had more than a few prospects, though she had seen no evidence that he was interested. After Anna died, he became a good catch in the eyes of many women in their community, some approaching him with unseemly rapidity. He had complained to Larry and Beth about the ostentatious flirtations and often quite explicit offers.
Paul gave a weak smile. “It would not be fair to any woman. She would always come up far short of Anna. I can’t imagine how I could keep from constantly comparing them, and she would know it. Don’t worry, I won’t lose my friends just because I retire. Friends like you and Larry who won’t let me get stuck.”
“But…” Beth hesitated. From her close relationship with Anna, she knew Paul was a very sexual person. His love language was physical touch. She and Anna had been very open about their marriages including sex. Most people probably did not know this about Paul. Certainly, Beth had not known until Anna confided in her. “The very best sex of my life, bar none,” Anna had said, “and getting better as we age… well, except for when I went through menopause, you know. Don’t let anyone tell you that sex gets boring with age.” Beth had been surprised when she first heard about this side of him. His public persona gave nothing like that away.
She had never seen him ogle a woman, stare at her tits or ass. Nor was he given to inuendo or even flirtatious repartee. No, that was not quite right. He did flirt in his own way, but not sexually or romantically. His gift was that he heard what people told him, women and men alike, white or POC. Paul saw who you were, and often things you had not seen in yourself, as she well knew. She had been surprised to get a tenure track offer with her only publication being her dissertation, particularly as her research was unconventional. Feminist with an emphasis on activist scholarship, she had worried she would be unwelcome at any school. Paul had seen what she brought and her potential as well. She had earned tenure with his guidance and that had been the foundation of their friendship. Those he worked with felt “seen,” a rare quality for anyone in academia, much less a full professor.
Funny and warm. He paid attention to people and their lives. He was the kind of guy who know the names and ages of the children of everyone in the department office and the cleaning crew too. Someone who always introduced himself to the ever-rotating staff at the pool.
He may not have exuded sexuality, but he was distinctly masculine. While a bit short statured, he carried himself confidently. He was well-muscled, in the way of swimmers and cyclists, not body builders. He had a kind face, striking hazel eyes, a full head of lovely dark wavy hair, and a ready smile. And a resting sad face that had become more pronounced since Anna died. His lack of overt sexuality had not kept Beth from having fantasies about him when they first met. At that time what got her off were scenarios where she would be the woman to awaken his previously undiscovered lust. This was before she knew Anna, of course.
‘But…” she started again. “Anna would want you to…” She let it go.
Finally, “Really? nobody? no relief at all?” He tilted his head quizzically not quite sure what she was asking.
“Not even a friendly bj here or there?” Whatever she and Anna had shared, this was the first time Beth or Paul had raised the subject much less talked about sex. This was untrod ground for them. Beth blushed and Paul’s eyes went wide. There was an awkward pause. “Well,” he said, “I guess if anyone’s entitled to ask, it’s you. But that would definitely be a first for me.” He paused, realizing that he had implied more than he intended.
“A first?” she inquired after a moment.
“This is a bit, a, embarrassing I guess.” Cebeci Escort There was another pause. “Anna did not like to give oral sex. The idea kind of grossed her out. We had such a great sex life, as I am sure she told you, that it was not important.”
“She wasn’t your first lover. You’ve told some wild stories about other girls.”
“I guess they felt the same. Anyway, for me, much of my pleasure came from giving her pleasure, and the same with the women before that. I didn’t miss it, didn’t really think much about it.”
Beth sat back, the air now not only awkward between them, but also seemingly filled with … something, something not quite namable, or perhaps something neither of them was ready to name. Anna had told her about Paul going down on her. “That man has skills,” she would say. “I mean…” followed by a sly smile, a cat-ate-the-canary smile.
“But…” came to Beth’s lips again. “Never? You’ve never had a blow job? No girl has ever sucked your dick?”
Paul was a bit shocked to be having this conversation and at her blunt language. It was unexpected, and arousing. He was surprised to find he was feeling his jeans tighten. He was disoriented by this unfamiliar turn in their relationship. He shook his head and said with a half-smile, “Nope. I mean maybe she put it in her mouth for a few moments once or twice…”
Later, Beth would wonder what had possessed her to do what she had done next. Spontaneously, she stood. “Well, we need to do something about that. I mean now. A man can’t retire without having had a proper blow job.” She took two steps forward, kneeled in front of his chair, and smiled up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Paul was taken aback. “But Beth… uh… no… What are you doing? What about Larry? your marriage…? We’re… I mean…” he fumbled.
Beth put her hands on his knees. “First, I don’t need to tell Larry. And if I do, I’ll explain why. I hope that he’d understand and say, ‘Lucky man.’ I give great head, Paul. I’m an expert at blow jobs. I’ve had a lot of practice and I love giving them. This’ll not be me putting your dick in my mouth for a few minutes. Trust me…”
“We’re the only ones in the building,” she went on, “and on the second floor, nobody can see us. Thirdly, or is it fourthly? we’re no longer ‘colleagues’ even if you are Emeritus. Dean Little Head would have no business telling us we can’t fool around,” she said with a genuine laugh. “Think of it as a retirement gift,” she grinned. “And don’t worry about any mess, I promise you there’ll be nothing to clean up.
Paul’s arousal spiked at the implications of that statement. He was still uncertain, despite her reassurance. This would cross a lot of lines. Lines that could not be uncrossed. He was friends with Larry. In his mind Beth was a dear friend and colleague, a former protégé. It would change things, but then, everything was changing for him now. “I… uh… I usually need, um, chemical assistance.” He felt a fool saying that, especially so clumsily.
Beth looked up at him and said firmly, “Oh, I don’t think there’ll be any problem there.” She knew from Anna that Paul was a grower not a shower and she could already see the bulge in his jeans. She put her hand in his lap, feeling the swelling of his dick. “mmm, definitely not…” she smiled as she unbuttoned the fly and felt around for his erection. Her eyes opened wider as she discovered his thick and growing member. “no indeedy…” She pulled down his briefs releasing his erection.
“Beth!” “Shush,” she answered. “Lean back and help me get your pants down around your ankles.”
In a daze Paul complied while Beth admired his thick, maybe six-inch dick, circumcised and now distinctly harder. She gripped the shaft in her right fist, unable to curl her fingers all the way around. She could feel it pulsing in her hand as it stiffened even more. Looking up at Paul, she could see him staring at the sight, his eyes now filled with wonder as well as lust.
He was scared, excited, highly aroused. He realized that he was not going to stop this… He wanted to utter another but. But… clearly this was something she was going to do. He realized that he too had already consented without conscious thought. He could see his own desire mirrored in her eyes. “I love the power of making a man cum,” she said. “I’ll make you lose control… when I am ready. There’ll not be a thing you can do to stop it. You’ll cum when I decide.” She took her left hand and gently slid it under his balls, cupping them in her palm. Paul moaned.
Beth leaned in and delicately licked his shaft from bottom to top, lightly teasing the frenulum. Meanwhile her right hand gripped his shaft again, her left still gently massaging his balls. Paul looked down, seeing her looking up into his eyes. He knew that she was gauging how this was affecting him. He knew that she knew that she had the power. There was no hiding. She was clearly reveling in it. She took her time, finally putting the Çukurambar Escort head into her mouth, letting him feel the tantalizing warmth of her tongue. Next, she glued her lips around the top of the shaft, the base of the glans, and let her tongue play on the head. Licking, lightly sucking. Delicately teasing the sensitive spot below the slit, then swirling the head, flicking it, slowly, fast.
Paul had no idea of what she was doing, only the intense and almost agonizing sensations she evoked. He tried raising his hips to thrust. “Uh.” She paused pulling back to say, “Stop that, I’m doing the work here. It’s a blow job. I am doing the job, not you.” He knew she had been telling the truth when she said that she was good at this, incredibly good, in fact. He lay back for few moments as she resumed her ministrations, he stared blindly up at the ceiling. Beth felt so powerful, so alive, so very much in control of him. Her left hand was tickling his balls and his perinium, while the right continued to hold the shaft in place so she could lick him and tease him with her mouth. He had no experience and she knew she was blowing his mind as well as his dick. With her lips she focused on the base of his glans, pulling a bit out and then back down. This time his body jerked involuntarily, and he moaned. “Jesus…” The horny teenager he had been would have cum right then. He gave himself to her mouth and hands, her care and devotion to his cock.
Then, wanting to watch this novel act, he opened his eyes and watched as her mouth moved, felt as the head of his cock went down into her throat. The sight of it going in and out of the tight O of her lips, deeper each time, was as thrilling as the feeling. He could hardly believe it. Finally, his cock was as deep as it could go. He could see and feel that her mouth was pressed to his balls, the shaft no longer visible. He wondered for a moment that she did not gag. His eyes then flashed wide as he felt as if his cock was being… as if she was doing… well he did not know what. The feeling was beyond anything he had imagined. Beth was literally swallowing his dick. With each swallow her throat tightened around the head. She did this rhythmically as he writhed in his chair. She was driving him wild. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he said in sync with her. Slowly she pulled her mouth back, sucking as she went, until there was a small *pop* as she released his dick. Involuntarily his hips jerked again. Starting over she did it all again.
Beth knew that he was completely in her thrall. It thrilled her. He was moaning non-stop now. He realized he could easily cum. So did she as she backed off. Resuming licking the head and teasing the glans, tickling his balls, a finger delicately probing his anus.
This was wholly new territory for him. He had no idea what she was doing or how but he felt a kind of arousal he had never experienced before. He was in a trance, almost as if he were stoned or tripping. The world around them had dropped away. The two of them occupied their own private universe. It was just her mouth on his cock, their bodies and desires in sync. Once again, she took him deeply into her throat, this time not gradually but suddenly. Again, his body bucked. She did this again, and again. He was growling now, moaning and babbling.
They both knew he was close now. She began to bob her head more rapidly, making sure to tighten her lips each time as they went over the glans. She felt his balls tighten and cupped them, pressing a finger against the base of his cock and another into his anus. With exquisite instinct, she seemed to know exactly the rhythm he needed to cum… and there it was, his dick swelling, hips lifting… semen pulsing down her throat. She sucked greedily, drawing it out, each spurt its own pleasure for each of them. Powerful spasms that kept cumming… It had been years since he had cum so hard, not since Anna had become ill. He nearly lost consciousness in the euphoria. Beth felt triumphant, elated.
“Oh, Lizzie!’ he called out as he came. This surprised her. Up through grad school she had been Lizzie. But, hired as an assistant professor, the nickname had felt insufficiently professional. So, she had become Beth. Of course, Paul had known her as Lizzie from conferences and acquaintances well before she was hired. It had taken an effort for him to make the change, knowing why. That he still thought of her as Lizzie in the heat of passion piqued her own arousal, to which she had not been paying attention.
While she had been focusing on his pleasure, her body had taken initiative of its own. Suddenly she was aware of the sensitivity of her nipples, the swelling in her vulva. She was rarely sure about how lubricated she was, even when aroused. Now, there was no question that her panties were not just damp, but squishy wet.
Still caught up in his pleasure, she held him in her mouth briefly as his dick shrank. She gently released it, knowing that it would be very sensitive now. She took one more lick of the tip to be sure she kept her promise about no mess. Sitting back, she looked up. Paul was glassy eyed, slumped in his chair, his muscles limp as cooked noodles. The space was awkward again. They both slowly awakened to the larger reality: the barren shelves, the clean whiteboard, the boxes and bits of paper lying about, the faint laughter from the quad.