Higher Education Ch. 01

My name is James Adams and I teach Philosophy 101 to freshmen students at a mid-sized college. This is my eighth year and I am being considered for a full professorship. The title of professor means some extra money but more importantly it means tenure and recognition that I am finally a part of the college infrastructure. Sure, I know the decision to give a teacher tenure is as much political as it is academic but I would be lying if I said it wasn't important. It means that I would become part of the establishment of the college-something every college teacher works for.

Now I can look back on my career and smile. However, it has been a bumpy ride at times but there was a lot of fun along the way as well. To be sure, there were times that I thought this day would never come.

How did I get to this point in my life? Well, I guess there is always a little bit of luck when one achieves their career goals. However, I didn't start out to be a college professor. The truth is that the odds were stacked against me in many ways. After graduating from high school with a solid "c," I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Somehow I got the bright idea to join the Army. Actually I think it was my old man that said that I needed to either get a job or join the Army. I joined the Army. It seemed the easier path. I spent four years in the service, learning how to use lethal weapons as well as how to avoid being killed. Strangely, that's how I ended up as a philosophy major in college. It came to me one night as I was sweltering in some God forsaken jungle in South America waiting to ambush drug smugglers. I was part of the Army's "special ops" team that was assigned to deal with the drug trade south of our borders. My team was hidden in dense jungle overgrowth next to a known drug smuggler's trail, trying our best to keep quiet as misquotes tried just as hard to carry us away.

It was a rare moment of lucid thought that I wondered what the hell I was doing risking my life in this low paid and dangerous job. That may have been the closest I had ever come to a philosophical thought. The answer was like a revelation to me. It seemed like most of the guys around me were crazy or at least acted that way and would have been here even if they weren't paid. I realized that there had to be a better way to make a living. I resolved in that moment of sanity to get out of the military as soon as possible. Hopefully alive!

Within six months I was mustering out of the Army and searching to find a college that would take me regardless of my academic record. Fortunately, I had a connection from a friend of a friend and found a school that would give me the benefit of the doubt. I used the money that I had saved in the past four years, plus the college reimbursement that the Army provided, to register at a small college in upstate New York. The money wasn't enough for all my expenses but I worked a couple of extra jobs and made ends meet. I even received a scholarship to stay on and finish my graduate degree, before going to work for real.

After graduation, I took the first job I could find (always in desperate need of money) and began teaching at a private all boys' high school. Surprisingly teaching wasn't all that different from the Army, i.e., working with unruly boys whose testosterone levels were bubbling over. Fortunately, after two years at the school I got lucky and landed a job teaching intro philosophy at a mid-sized college. That was the beginning of my career and while I didn't know it at the time, began my education in the world of college politics and sex (well, mostly sex).

This story is about how I got here and the ups and downs (pun intended) along the way.

Chapter 1

I remember my first day on the job like it was yesterday. I was sitting behind this very desk trying to act like "professor cool" as students filed into the room. Believe it or not, I had on a tweed jacket, with elbow patches and a vest. I even had a pipe on my desk, although I didn't smoke. However, behind my attempt at a suave demeanor was a very nervous young man. Maybe it was because I had never had a class with thirty students. The size of my classes at the small private school had been in the neighborhood of twelve to fifteen students, and more importantly, all boys. Here, I knew from the roster that I had about twenty girls and ten boys in my first class. That seemed to be the general ratio for my other classes as well.

From my Army days and teaching at a boy's school, I had grown very comfortable being around and teaching guys. Now I would have to learn to deal with the fairer sex. Not that I was totally inexperienced with girls but, believe it or not, I was a somewhat shy, if not naive man. Sometimes I think that's why I went into the Army and even accepted the job at the boys' school-I could do the macho thing to cover up my shyness with girls.

It was a warm day in late August when the term began so the girls were wearing as little as possible. I tried not to watch as one pretty co-ed after the other flowed into the room. However, while my eyes were pretending to be on the papers on my desk (I have great peripheral vision) I could see the ladies as they walked by. Most wore shorts and tank tops, but some had on short summer dresses. I grew up in a house with three sisters so I was familiar with the "hoochie" look-a cross between sluttish and... well sluttish, but acceptable in the circle of most teenaged girls.

My first challenge was learning all of their names. However, I was and am terrible with names. I know the trick is to associate the name with something else but I have a hard time remembering the "something else." Anyway, I always try. There was Jennifer, with the big breasts. I thought she looked like Jennifer Aniston, although this Jennifer had much bigger breasts. Then there was Rachael. She looked a little like Rachael Welsh (when she was young-unfortunately without the big breasts). Then there was Molly who had on a multicolored top that reminded me of a lollipop. Molly... lolli... well, you get the picture. It didn't work anyway.

Somehow I muttled through two classes that morning with one left in the afternoon. I hoped that I had maintained my professional demeanor but I had a pretty good suspicion that many of the students knew that I was green. Several of the girls stopped by my desk to say hi and bat their pretty eyes at me. At the time I thought that there was no way that they could sway my objective opinion of them, which was strictly based on their academic achievements. That was one of the many things I have been wrong about in my career.

When the ending bell rang, and the students had left, I looked up to see my mentor standing in the doorway. Each new teacher is assigned an experienced "older" teacher to help them learn the procedures and policies of the college. It is actually a pretty good program and I've mentored a number of new teachers over the years. My mentor was Abigail VanBuren. Abigail was an "older" woman of about forty. (When you're thirty, anyone over 31 is "older.") She wore her hair short and had horned-rim glasses. However, underneath her "college professor" exterior she appeared to be a very sexy woman. It happened that she was also the Dean of the Philosophy Department, my boss and a very important person to my career. However, I had no idea how important at the time.

"Jim, I have a few papers for you to sign and then we can go to lunch if you like."

"That would be great," I said as I nervously straightened up the papers covering my already messy desk.

"Come on down to my office."

Abigail turned and walked out the door. As I hurried to follow her down the hall, I couldn't help notice that, while she was always professionally dressed, she wore her clothes too tight. However, she had the shape to get away with it. That day she was wearing a gray business suit with a form fitting skirt and jacket. She had on a white blouse with a colorful scarf around her neck. My eyes followed her rear as she strode purposefully on four-inch high heels down the hall in front of me. It almost appeared that she was swaying her hips a little more than necessary. However, I thought it could have been because of the very high heels that she was wearing. I found out it was the former.

I followed her into a large and well-furnished office and sat down in a chair in front of her large desk. There was a leather sofa, two end tables with lamps, a coffee table and two desk chairs in the spacious room. Covering the walls, were bookshelves and plaques showing her academic accomplishments and awards. A very lavish office even for a Dean of Philosophy, I observed.

Her desk was neat and tidy like her. The room smelled of lilacs but I wasn't sure if it were her perfume or the real thing. There were large bouquets of fresh cut flowers on her desk and the coffee table, giving the otherwise mannish office a feminine touch. The flowers could have been lilacs but I had no clue about such things.

Abigail sat down at her desk and folded her hands on in front of her. "So how was your first morning," she said with a knowing smile, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Very tense, but I got through it somehow."

"I can still remember my first day of teaching. It was very trying and I almost quit after the first week. That's why we started the mentoring program. Unfortunately we lost some good people before we realized that we needed to give the new teachers some additional support."

I smiled and said that I appreciated her taking her valuable time to help me. She admitted that she didn't normally mentor anymore but when she saw someone "special" she made an exception. I sensed something in the way she said "special." I certainly didn't consider myself special. However, I found out what she meant a few minutes later.

Abigail got up and walked around her desk with several papers in her hand. She leaned back on the desk in front of me. My eyes naturally went to the expanse of nylon that was revealed as she leaned back and her short skirt pulled upward. Her opaque nylons shimmered in the sunlight coming from the window. When I looked up I saw her watching me and I blushed like a high school boy. I'm sure she noticed but she didn't say anything.

"Uh... are those the papers I have to sign?" I stammered, trying to cover my embarrassment as I reached out for the papers.

"Yes," she said, but instead of handing them to me she put the papers down on the desk beside her. Then, to my surprise, she scooted up and sat on the desk.

My eyes opened wide when I realized that I was now almost eye-level with her legs. When she crossed her legs, it made her short skirt pull higher. I could actually see the tops of her thigh high nylons and a hint of white flesh where her skirt and the desk met. Again, when I looked up, I saw her looking at me, this time with a smile on her face. I was beginning to get very nervous.

"Jim, there are a few rules around here that you should know." Abigail paused as I tried to keep my eyes on her face.

"First, as you are aware, I am the head of the department. I run a pretty tight ship and I expect my teachers to obey the rules." She paused and then added, "When I say jump, you should only ask how high." There was a smile on her face but I was pretty sure she wasn't joking. "Additionally, I expect you to be on time for class and prepared. I expect promptness from all of my teachers. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," I answered, and swallowed hard. This sounded a lot like the speech that my drill sergeants gave me when I entered the Army. Only, there was a lot more "mother-fucker's" mixed with the military language.

"Secondly, the college takes a very dim view of teachers fraternizing with students. I warn you of this because almost seventy per cent of our student body is female. You are a handsome young man." Again she paused and smiled at me. I almost thought she was going to wink. Then she continued, "Do not doubt for a moment that some of the students will try to use their considerable charm to get a grade with their body that their mind can't achieve."

I didn't respond but nodded my head. Then I watched as she reached up and pulled the scarf from around her neck.

"It's getting warm in here isn't it?" she said and unbuttoned two of the buttons on her blouse. I could now see that she had a substantial cleavage. Then she unbuttoned her jacked and pulled it open.

I gasped. She didn't have on a bra and I could plainly see her hard nipples poking through the thin material. Although I wanted to avert my eyes, I found it impossible. I could even see the dark rings of her areolas. I felt an unwanted tingle in my groin and squirmed in my chair.

Abigail was quiet for a time, most likely watching for my reaction. Her eyes darted to my groin. I think she saw what she wanted to see. She continued, "So stay away from the co-ed's and be prepared and you will be rewarded." Then Abigail pointed to the forms next to her on the desk. "Sign these," she said as she uncrossed her legs.

My eyes glanced toward her now open legs. I almost gasped because it appeared that she wasn't wearing panties. However, I forced myself to look at the forms. They were some kind of tax withholding forms that I was certain I had already signed several weeks ago. Still, I wasn't going to argue. I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. I signed both forms quickly.

"There is only one rule left to understand," Abigail said as she got up and went to the office door. She turned and leaned against the closed door, smiling at me. Her hands were behind her back and I heard a distinct "click." Then she walked over and casually closed the blinds, leaving the room lit only by a small desk lamp that I hadn't even noticed was on.

I could feel sweat beading on my brow. I wasn't that na‹ve and knew that I was on very dangerous grounds here. However, nothing in my military experience prepared me for this. I felt the sudden urge to get up and run from the room. However, I was pretty certain that it would mean the loss of my job. Instead, I sat in stunned silence as the older woman approached me. She stepped between the desk and me. I was almost afraid to look up at her. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I saw her throw her glasses onto the desk carelessly. They slid across the desk and fell to the floor on the other side. Suddenly, the prim and proper Dean of Philosophy went to her knees in front of me. I opened my mouth in shock and looked at her face. It was a mask of lust. Then, I jumped as she placed both hands on my thighs.

"Very strong," she said as she squeezed the muscles in my tense thighs.

Incredibly, I felt a moment of pride that I still kept myself in excellent shape. However, that passed quickly as I watched her hands slowly moving up my thighs and then toward my groin. I sat stiffly in my chair, almost as if I was disembodied and watching from afar. Suddenly her fingers found my groin and my entire body tensed and I gasped.

"Mmmm nice," she said as she felt my lengthening penis under my slacks.

Again, I felt the overpowering urge to run. Instead, I closed my eyes and trembled as her expert fingers worked on my covered penis until it was a throbbing tent in my pants. As much as I didn't want this to happen, I was incapable of stopping it. When I heard my zipper being pulled down, my eyes flew open and I looked at the kneeling woman. However, Abigail wasn't looking at me. She was busy fishing her hand inside my slacks, searching for my swollen shaft.

I closed my eyes again and moaned when her warm hand wrapped around it. I heard a sharp intake of her breath as she pulled my penis out into the open.

"Oh yes," she whisper to herself. "I knew you would have a nice cock."

I opened my eyes in surprised at her words. I saw her pretty blue eyes staring back at me as her soft hand with red painted fingernails wrapped around my throbbing penis. By this time I was very excited and it was all that I could do not to spend in her face like some horny teenager.

She held my penis up and waved it like a baton and said, "The last rule is that this... is mine anytime I want it." With that she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to lick the swollen head.

I didn't argue. Instead I moaned and watched her run her tongue around the crown until it reached the dripping head. She squeezed her fist, forcing a large drop of clear liquid from the slit before swiping her tongue across it and swallowing. Then, she growled deep in her throat and took my penis into her mouth.

I bit my tongue to keep from moaning as I watched her head move downward until her lips were in my pubic hair. I do not have a giant penis, and while it is bigger than average, I had never had a girl take me all the way into her throat. However, Abigail didn't seem to have a problem. I could feel her tongue come out to tickle my balls as her throat muscles massaged my shaft. My fists clenched into balls in order to avoid grabbing her head. I surmised that she wasn't a woman that liked to be forced to do anything. Instead, I lifted my hips and moaned.

Abigail sucked me for a few minutes and then pulled her mouth away, her lips making a loud pop as the swollen head slipped from her sucking lips. Her lipstick and saliva was smeared on my penis. Her eyes were wild with lust.

"So... you like to have your... cock sucked?" she asked rhetorically and breathlessly as she looked at me and fisted my slippery shaft. I could see her firm and bra-less breasts moving up and down with her growing excitement. "That's fortunate because I loveeee to suck cock." With that the pretty woman dropped her head and took me into her throat again. I felt her tremble in excitement and heard her moan deep in her throat.

It had been quite some time since I had had sex and it didn't take long for my balls to begin to tighten. I felt compelled to warn her. "Dean... Dean VanBuren," I groaned, not knowing what else to call her. I heard her moan and felt her suck harder. "I... I'm... going to..." I warned as I lifted my hips and hissed thought my teeth. My penis throbbed and suddenly began to spew my juice deep into her throat. My penis was so far down her throat that I doubt that she tasted the first couple of blasts. Then she pulled her head back until just the crown was in her mouth. Her fist moved up and down the shaft in a milking motion. Suddenly, her body began to tremble. I realized that she was climaxing as she was drinking my sperm.

I was sitting with my head back and still gasping for breath when Dean VanBuren rose. Through half opened eyes I watched as she walked around behind her desk and picked up her glasses. Then she sat back down at the desk, put her prim glasses back on, and pulled a tissue out of a drawer to dab her lips. "I forgot that I have an appointment for lunch already. You don't mind if I take a rain check do you?"

"Uh... no... uh not at all," I said, almost relieved that I didn't have to go to lunch with her after what just happened. I stood up quickly.

"By the way, there is going to be a little party at my house on Friday night. I live on Monroe Street just across from the entrance to the campus. Everyone knows where it is. See you about eight?"

I assumed the party was to greet the new staff. "Yea... sure," I said before I could think of an excuse not to go. As I stood trying to get my thoughts together, I heard her clear her throat. I saw that she was looking at my crotch. My face turned bright red when I looked down and saw that my almost soft penis was still hanging out of my pants. There was a drip of my sperm hanging from the head. Abigail had a smile on her face as she reached over the desk to hand me a tissue. I snatched the tissue and turned away, wiping my penis before hastily putting it back in my pants and pulling up my zipper.