Back to Grad School

"I guess it's my turn. I married my graduate advisor after a torrid affair throughout my masters program. It was a very dumb move. The sex was great for awhile but I could never escape the parent-child relationship inherent in that sort of scenario. We parted friends. He married a younger woman—also one of his interns. She's very comfortable in the subordinate, submissive role and they seem very happy together. We shared custody. I'm pushing forty, Jack, just had my thirty-ninth birthday; my daughter is eighteen and a college freshman. My son is seventeen and is a senior in high school. He spends more time with my ex because of the better school system, but they live close enough for me to spend a lot of time with him."

Maggie sipped her coffee and finished the story. "I'm a pretty committed red wine girl and sneak a Sherman Natural every now and again but cigars don't bother me in the least. The Great Dane has the same problem your pups do---sleeping sideways. I had to upgrade to a king sized bed just to accommodate him. I live in town, close to campus but I'm getting tired of it as it has become more congested. I bought some land north of town with the intent of putting something on it---even a double-wide---and getting out of the city. I grew up a farm girl; my parents live a couple of hours north of here." She had just told Jack Powell more about herself than she had told any man...ever.

This was going somewhere and she was okay with that. He certainly wasn't that much older than she was; he certainly didn't look his age. She didn't either. Does he want to have more children? Is he looking for a young trophy wife? Is he interested? What is he interested in?

"Have you thought of marriage again...more kids?" She asked, shocked at her own boldness.

"Marriage, yes...someone to cuddle in front of a fire with...grow old with. Kids? I don't think so. I don't want to be an old man when my kids reach the age when they become a lot of fun...when they become adults...friends. How about you?"

"Same here." Maggie replied.

She wanted to throw caution to the wind and ask him to take her home and screw her brains out. Hell, if the sex was good, this man was certainly a keeper. She didn't. She got back in charge.

"Jack this has been fun but I need to get home---as I'm sure you do---to take care of our respective canines. I'm looking forward to reading your anthology over the weekend, not to mention the story you're going to hand me at the first of the week." She rose to leave.

If Jack was disappointed he didn't show it. He's giving me my space, Maggie mused. He gets it. He fucking gets it. As sexy as he is I'm getting too damned old for a fling---particularly this close to home. Please let him want more. I so desperately need---have to have---more. She extended her hand. He took it in both of hers, gazing into her emerald eyes.

"Thank you for this time together, Maggie. It was very special. I hope we can do it again as the semester unwinds." Jack said softly.

The two walked together out of the coffee shop. She was surprised to find that he had parked his half ton in the reserved, faculty parking lot and had the appropriate sticker which allowed it, not to mention a very low registration number.

"How the hell did you pull that off?" Maggie inquired, playfully.

"That parking permit cost me seven figures." Jack responded nonchalantly. "On the advice of my accountant I endowed the majority of the new multi-media building at the business school. In all likelihood it will become the Powell Center when it's completed next year; the remaining funding came from my former employer."

"The English department..."

""I know! I've already gotten the hint from Dr. Murphy."

Maggie had never been a material girl. She made a good living as a tenured full professor and spent very little of her salary or the royalties from her writings. Still a guy who can afford to give away millions to the University she so dearly loved was a pretty special guy. And, she didn't believe he had revealed his philanthropy simply to impress her. In her heart she knew it didn't matter. If he was the one, that special someone she had dreamed of her entire life---her prince charming---the man who could give back the abundant love that she had inside her, then it wouldn't matter if he changed tires for a living.

On impulse and against her nature she turned and kissed Jack softly on the cheek as she prepared to get in her car. He touched her shoulder and her neck with his strong hands. She felt the fire, the almost blinding jolt which surged through her. Oh Christ! She thought to herself. You want him; you want his body next to yours. You want his cock...anywhere...everywhere. It took every bit of self control she had not to search for his hard cock and expose it...and service it....right there in the faculty parking lot.

As she drove the few blocks to her lonely home, she was both exhilarated and confused. What was Jack Powell thinking, right now? Who was Maggie Stevens to him?

At that very moment Jack was smitten, almost in a daze. Oh my God, what an amazing woman. He had known that she was special both from her writing and from eight weeks in her classroom. Jack, you could love this woman like no other on earth. Does she see you that way? The kiss on the cheek...friendly...more? Please let it be more...dear God let there be more.

Maggie arrived home first, greeting her large companion who survived her absences with a little help from a neighbor who stopped by during the day. Taking him in the back yard she encouraged him to play vigorously knowing that he would soon grow tired. As the big gray fell in a heap at her feet, Maggie stripped and examined her body in the mirror. You've still got it girl...it's a shame no one is using it.

Reclining naked on the living room sofa, Maggie began to thumb through Jacks bound volume. She had intended to review it as a teacher would. Jack had an astounding ability to grow from story to story. His first story wasn't bad, at least a solid 'B' in her class. His analysis of his own work was absolutely phenomenal. She noted from notes he had included how long each story had taken, at least on the initial attempt. He seemed to easily crank out four or five thousand words---damned fine words---in three or four hours.

By the fifth story he was in full form; everything after that was solid 'A+' work. It was all extremely erotic without being simply stroke material. The romantic theme was always there; the builds were teasing; the reader desperately cared about the characters. As she checked the dates, she began to read the stories that started after her class had begun eight weeks earlier. Oh yes, there it is, his female characters are getting richer and more interesting.

The sex was wonderfully nasty and arousing throughout and amazingly plausible. If this man fucks the way he writes about it...her hand fell between her legs feeling the wetness that had increased as she had been reading Jack's stories. As her slim fingers parted the lips of her womanhood, her arousal increased. She found her special spot; within second she was furiously working her precious little slot with several fingers.

She came in a matter of seconds; it was a howling, screaming orgasm; the Great Dane became seriously concerned. Coming down from her high she ran her slippery fingers over the page and then over the back cover. Would he notice when she gave the volume back to him? Would he smell her steamy little cunt on the pages? She hoped so, she thought to herself as she calmed her big gray friend.

Jack was putting the final touches on his story---the story he would turn in on Monday. Sitting at his computer naked---he always wrote erotic stories in the nude---he discovered that he had unconsciously begun to stroke his cock. His fingers left the key board as he read the words and visualized the scene he had written---visualized himself fucking Maggie Stevens---for this story was clearly about Jack and Maggie, even if the names were different. He came hard; the dogs jumped up assuming that an unwanted visitor was at the door. He closed his eyes and imagined the first time he would ever inject his cream inside Maggie's delightful body. There would be a first time and many more to follow...wouldn't there? Would she be offended by his story? Was it too forward at this stage to let her see it?

He would write a back up story...just in case he lost his nerve. This story was so personal; she could not miss it. It says I want to fuck you, I want to love you...I want to be in your arms for a very long time. Hell, short of a ring, it was almost a proposal---at least a, 'let's fuck' proposal. In the end it was far more; it was a love story with a happy ending.

By midnight the story was done. He printed it off and made a copy on a CD. Maggie required both. She liked to read the story on the printed page then use the CD copy for comments, returning the original and the markup to her students.

Maggie awoke early the next morning; it was a habit that she'd never been able to shake after growing up on a farm. She shaved her legs and trimmed her bush tight, the way she had when she had been younger. She had not paid enough attention to that part of her appearance in recent years; there just didn't seem to have been the need.

After drying her hair, she slipped on a light cotton tee shirt and one of her few new pairs of panties and poured her first cup of coffee. She wanted to talk to him; she wanted to read the story that he was working on. She wanted to see him...touch him...be with him. She grabbed the phone book and was pleased to see that his number was listed. She wrote it down along with the address. Going to her computer she plugged the address into her map program. Maggie was surprised to see that he apparently lived not far from the property which she had purchased.

Jack was also in the habit of rising early. After taking his pups out for their traditional morning play time and feeding them, he sat down to read the story one last time. It was good. It was very good. Would she like it? He hoped so. He thought of calling her and offering to drop the story off at her house. He knew where she lived and knew her phone number. Her smile kept creeping into his consciousness. Was he moving too fast? Was she the special woman who would complete him? He was an attractive, good looking man with a very healthy bank account. As a friend had told him, he could have any woman he wanted. At that moment the only woman he wanted was Maggie Stevens. He'd wait until a respectable 8:00 AM and call her.

Maggie couldn't wait until eight. She doubted that she would wake him as she dialed his number a few seconds after 7:00 AM; he was a country boy at heart. The phone rang twice.

"This is Jack."

"Jack? It's Dr., ah, Maggie. It's Maggie Stevens. Did I wake you? I was wondering if you had finished your story. I was hoping that you could maybe email it to me if or when it's done."

"No, yes and no."

"What?"

"No, you didn't wake me. Yes, I finished the story---last night. And no, I don't think I want to email it to you."

"I see."

Jack went for it; it was time to up the tempo of this relationship. "Maggie one of my fondest memories from my youth was my dad getting up early Saturday morning and cooking a huge, cholesterol laden breakfast. I still observe the tradition; eating alone is far less enjoyable than doing so with good company. Slip into your jeans, throw your pup in the back of your SUV and come have breakfast with me. It's less than thirty minutes this time of the day on a Saturday. I'll go ask the chickens for a couple of extra eggs, the dogs can get to know each other and after breakfast you can sit down and read the story."

"You have chickens?"

"Of course I have chickens; I also have hogs and cows and goats. I live on a farm. I have a manager who actually runs the place, so I suppose I'm more of a gentleman farmer."

Maggie thought for a moment. Yes, she was going to have breakfast with Jack Powell. "I sort of know where you live but give me the specifics."

"Platton Road?"

"Sure, I know it."

"Take it North all the way to the Old Bridge Road intersection. There's a bait shop on the corner."

"Okay."

"Drive exactly one half mile farther North and turn left---the first left---on Differ. Drive exactly three tenths of a mile---look for a mailbox on the left side of the road stuck in an old red milk can. Turn left just past the milk can. There's an electric gate. Push the red button and it will open and then close behind you for the dogs' safety. Pull around to the right side of the house; I'll be in the kitchen. When should I expect you?"

"As soon as I slip into my jeans and get my dog in the car I'll be out of here, so, probably pretty close to thirty minutes."

"I'll see you then."

Maggie decided on her best jeans, the over priced pair which she seldom wore that accented her long legs and still quite respectable behind. They fit exquisitely tight against her pussy, provocatively so. The hugged the firm globes and alluring crease of her still fine little ass.

Getting the big blue Dane into the car was hardly a challenge; he loved to go for a ride in the car and bounded into the back with enthusiasm. There was no traffic through town and soon the houses became less obtrusive and she was out in the country. She found the gravel drive with no problem and pushed the red button with two minutes to spare. She was tingling with anticipation and excitement. Her thoughts were distinctly lurid as she contemplated what might be in store. She was absolutely committed to getting laid. It had been too damned long since she had a nice cock and she had no intention of screwing up this opportunity.

As she came to the end of the half mile long road, a large rambling old farm house came into view. There was a small barn and some other assorted out buildings. The back yard had to be at least two acres, fenced in white painted split rail. Surrounding the homestead on all sides was corn---acres and acres of it. As she pulled around to the side of the house as Jack had instructed her, she saw him for the first time in jeans and a tee shirt accompanied by his two canines. God he looked good; the guy definitely stays in shape; nice shoulders...strong arms...that easy stride...that killer smile.

Before they could really greet each other the pups needed to check her out. They knew there was another of their species in the SUV, but first things first. The Weimer was instantly friendly, sniffing without being intrusive and then sitting down politely at her feet and allowing her to scratch his ears. The double coated sled dog was another matter. Relatively speaking, she was small, although she easily weighed in at close to sixty pounds. The Weimer was probably over 100 pounds; he was large for the breed. Her Dane was around 130 and distinctly taller---and still growing. The sled dog was not prepared to accept her as easily as the Weimer; this was, she knew, also typical of this particular breed.

"Sammy!" Jack said. "Good dog. This is my friend. Friend Sammy!"

The lovely creature looked back at her master with adoration, then sat down politely in front of Maggie as if she had known her forever. She had the most incredible big, brown eyes. She accepted Maggie's hand and offered just a hint of pink tongue in approval. Sensing it was time to get the canine social event underway, Maggie opened the back of the SUV and the regal young Dane bounded out to meet the locals. There was a lot of butt sniffing, a growl here and a bark there. The young Weimer saw a new playmate; the bitch saw an intruder who needed to quickly learn the pecking order.

The classic Alpha female, Samantha---not unlike Maggie---allowed no one to sniff her ass---nor even get near it. Soon all was right in the canine world. Maggie's pup had paid his homage to the queen mother and acknowledged her position as the top dog. Soon the two males were running around the expansive yard making new discoveries together as the fawn coated female sat on a small hill overlooking her charges. Occasionally one or the other of the younger dogs would come over to seek approval before dashing off in all directions totally consumed by the day's smells, sights and sounds.

Maggie turned to Jack. He put his arms around her and softly kissed her lips. Resistance was the farthest thing from her mind. He took her hand and walked her to the kitchen door and then inside. The embrace and kiss had been so completely natural and unforced, as if to say, "welcome home dear." Could this one day be the place she would call home?

It was a real kitchen, a cook's kitchen. The upscale, commercial grade appliances, so often added for status by people barely able to fry an egg, fit perfectly and showed every indication of regular use. Of course Jack Powell could cook---and probably quite well. He just didn't strike Maggie as a man who would do anything half-assed. He was a refreshingly self sufficient man who didn't seem to need a woman around to make up for his short comings or stroke his ego. Hopefully he was a man who wanted a woman around---this woman---to have, to hold and to love.

Jack had already accomplished most of the prep work required. "How can I help?" Maggie asked.

"I've got everything pretty well under control on this side of the room. Fried, scrambled or poached are your choices. If you're not opposed to alcohol this early in the day, there is fresh squeezed OJ in the fridge and a decent bottle of California champagne. There's also everything you might need for a Bloody Mary---your call."

"Fried, over easy and I'll go with Mimosa's." She replied.

"Good choice! The table is set, there is a fresh pot of coffee brewing or hot water for tea if you prefer; I should have this done in less than ten minutes."

Maggie was pleased to discover that the things she needed were where she would expect to find them. We both arrange our kitchens in the same way; that sure seems promising. She found two Waterford flutes, opened the champagne and poured it along with the fresh orange juice. Without asking, she found a large mug and poured herself a steaming cup of coffee. Real cream in a glass bottle and raw sugar...oh yes!

Jack expertly slid the fried eggs on to the heated plates and then added a healthy serving of hash browns, bacon and two kinds of sausage. Placing the plates on the small glass table in the breakfast nook, he gestured for her to join him.

"I know it's far too much food. Our three pups will certainly get a special treat with the left overs."

They ate quickly with few words. She was hungrier than she had realized. The sights and sound brought back warm memories from her childhood. This was the way life was supposed to be on an early fall morning, enjoying a wonderful breakfast with a very special man.

Soon they were cleaning up the breakfast dishes and preparing three small servings for the friends. As they quickly finished up in the kitchen and each grabbed a second cup of coffee, Jack guided her to the living room. They sat together on a large leather coach. The room had obvious male overtones but not in an offensive or overbearing way. It was a very inviting and comfortable room.

"Would you like a tour?" Jack asked.

"I'd love one." Maggie replied.

It was truly a massive, rambling old farm house which had obviously been renovated, or more accurately restored to the period. The décor was minimalist without being sparse. The bed in the master bedroom was absolutely gargantuan, easily half again as big as the typical California king. The master bathroom included a large walk in shower and a full size Jacuzzi. There were two huge walk in closets, one obviously his, one just as obviously empty. The basement housed a temperature controlled wine cellar with what had to be over 1,000 bottles. She loved wine and loved exploring the various bottles and cases.