by Brent, Amy
“My first wife was named Darby,” I said. “Beautiful girl, blonde hair, blue eyes, killer body, great sense of humor. We dated three years and got married right out of college. It took her less six months to find a guy she loved more than me. I came home one day to our ratty little apartment and she was just gone. She left me a note that said that I didn’t make her happy, so she was moving on. I didn’t make her happy, like that was my job or something.”
“At least you didn’t walk in on her having anal sex with a three-hundred-pound black kid,” he said.
“There is that,” I said, nodding.
“What about wife number two?”
“That would be Tracy, who came along a few years later. She was a knockout brunette, younger than me, big tits, nice ass, could suck the fuzz off a tennis ball. She was my teaching assistant at NYU. We got married in June and she kicked me to the curb in September. Seems she just woke up one day and realized that I wasn’t the guy she wanted me to be. When I came home that day, she’d packed all my shit in boxes and left it on the front lawn.”
“Jesus, Logan, I had no idea…” He gave me a pitiful look. “Did you love them? Were you devastated?”
I shrugged. “I thought I did and I probably was. I started drinking, feeling sorry for myself, staying out all night, missing work, fucking any woman who would let me between her legs. I became a sad drunk, Tom, just like you.”
He blinked at the insult, but didn’t say a word.
“I drank at night, I drank at lunch, I drank in class, I drank before class... One day my students found me passed out at my desk at ten in the morning. They called the dean and she called 911. I had almost killed myself. Alcohol poisoning. I’d been drinking for three days straight. They took me to a detox center and dried me out for thirty days.”
“Damn,” he said, staring down into his coffee cup. I hoped he understood that he was headed down the same dark path I had been on. I hated it for him. He was too good a guy to ruin his life because his wife was a cunt. He was a much better guy than I was. I could only hope that he realized that before it was too late.
“Anyway, I decided that I had to get out of New York City, so I managed to land this job four years ago. And if I don’t fuck things up, I’ll be eligible for tenure in the three months.”
He nodded as he listened. Quietly, he said, “So, when your wives left you, did you think it was your fault?”
“For a long time, I did,” I said with a long sigh. “They both blamed me, said I wasn’t the man they thought I was. I thought about that long and hard while I was in detox.”
“And what conclusion did you reach?” he asked.
“That I was just me,” I said, smiling through a long sigh. “I had always been just me, but they wanted me to be someone else, someone that they could change and mold to fit their needs.”
“So it wasn’t your fault that they left?” he asked hopefully, as if looking for validation for the demise of his own shitty marriage.
“Oh, I’m sure it was my fault to some degree,” I said with a shrug. “I was no saint, but I think they left because they couldn’t change me into the man they wanted me to be. Once I understood that, I also understood that it was their fault as much as mine because they had both married a guy they thought they could change to fit their idea of what the perfect man was. Leaving me was them accepting the fact that they had fucked up, not me.” I cut him a grin. “At least that’s what a psyche professor I slept with told me.”
“Wendy said she fucked that football player because I no longer satisfied her,” he said, a faraway look in his eye. “She said it was all my fault.”
“Tom, Wendy was a selfish cunt who fucked a football player because she wanted to, not because you drove her to it,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a little shake. “Rather than wallow in pity and booze, you should thank the good lord that she’s gone. Now you can find a woman who will appreciate you for you.”
“You really think so,” he said, rubbing a knuckle under his eyes. “I mean, find a good woman who will appreciate me for me?”
“I really do,” I said with a nod. “But you have to dry out, man, because your body is going to start craving the booze, and when that happens, it’s a lot harder to move on. You’re heading down a very dark road that is a bitch to come back from. Trust me, I know.”
“But you still drink,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Aren’t you afraid that you’ll fall off the wagon and head down that dark road again yourself?”
It was a good question without an easy answer. I didn’t have time to explain the fucked-up, inner workings of my mind, so I just said, “It’s all about moderation for me. When’s the last time you saw me really drunk?”
His forehead furrowed in thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you really drunk.”
“And you never will,” I said. “I have a strict three drink rule. I take it as a personal challenge never to break my rule.”
I was lying through my teeth to him, but it was a white lie told for his own good. I had fallen off the wagon so many times I couldn’t count. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d gotten shitfaced and woke up in my car in a parking lot or in some stranger’s bed. Or in my own bed with no idea how I made it home. Those were my demons to fight, not Tom’s. He didn’t need to hear the sordid details of my reality. He needed to deal with his own.
“So, you test yourself? You drink three drinks, then cut yourself off. You do it to prove to yourself that you can do it. That you’re in control.”
“Something like that,” I said.
“Kind of like your rule about not fucking coeds,” he said with a smile.
“Something like that.”
“You have lots of rules, Logan.”
I smiled. “I know. I’ve been told.”
He shook his head and blew out his cheeks. “I’m not sure I have your willpower.”
“Of course, you do,” I said. “And you have me to help you.”
“What does that mean?” He had a hopeful look in his eye.
“I want you to dry out for a week,” I said. “No booze of any kind. And get back into the gym, start running again, concentrate on you and not Wendy.”
“Okay, I can do that,” he said, trying to smile. He gazed up from beneath his eyebrows. “And maybe I’ll start dating again.”
I chuckled and gave him a nod. “My friend, you go a week without booze and get some color back in your cheeks, and we will get you laid.”
He smiled. “You promise.”
“Scouts honor,” I said, holding up three fingers. “Now get out of here. I have young minds to corrupt.”
As he left the room, I glanced up at the clock. Students for my next class would be filtering in soon. Including Courtney Shaw, who had not left my thoughts since our restroom encounter two nights before.
I’d just bragged about my ability to resist temptation to Tom. I doubt he would have taken me seriously had he known that Courtney had given me a blowjob in Goldie’s restroom.
I thought about that dark road again, the one I had stumbled down so many times before.
I closed my eyes, imagining it in my mind.
I saw Courtney Shaw standing in the middle of the dark road, holding out her hands, beckoning me to come along.
Courtney
Logan was sitting at his desk fiddling with his phone when I walked in and took my usual seat on the third row.
He glanced up for a moment as I strolled in, but quickly looked back down at his phone, as if I was just another student and not the girl who’d sucked his cock in the restroom of a dive bar two nights before.
I wasn’t terribly disappointed because I wasn’t sure what I thought was going to happen when we saw each other this morning.
I didn’t expect him to do a happy dance when he saw me.
But I didn’t expect to be ignored either.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to act myself.
Should I be all col
d and aloof?
Should I be all cute and flirtatious?
Should we pretend not to know each other so the rest of the room doesn’t surmise what happened between us?
Obviously, Logan was going for the “let’s pretend like nothing happened” option, so I figured I’d do the same. Once everyone had drifted in and taken their seats, he moved to the chalkboard and started class like he had every other day.
Then, subtly, I noticed the change.
I caught him glancing my way, even when he was addressing the questions of other students.
It was like he knew I was there, watching him, longing for him, and he felt the need to steal a glance because he felt the same way.
He couldn’t resist the urge to look at me; to imagine himself fucking me, having me in his arms, his big cock buried deep inside me.
He was feeling the same needs and urges that I was, I was sure of it.
I was sitting in a pool of my own juices, imagining his muscular body beneath the baggy clothes, watching his lips move as he spoke, his nostrils flutter as he breathed.
I squeezed my thighs together and bit my lip.
There was no turning back now.
If I didn’t have Logan Clark inside me soon, I might just die.
Logan
I felt her watching me for the entire class. I did my best to ignore her, but it was no use. I knew she was there. I could feel her eyes on me. I imagined that I could hear breathing. I would have sworn that I noticed the tangy aroma of her juices wafting on the stale air in the room.
I did my best to hold it together for the hour, and was relieved when I finally looked at the clock and saw that it was time for class to end.
I dismissed the class, then sat down behind the desk and waited for the room to clear. I picked up my phone and pretended to fiddle with it. My mouth was dry. I licked my lips. I needed a drink. Maybe I’d run home between classes and grab one. Or two.
“Professor Clark?”
I glanced up to see her standing there, wearing a Golden State Bears t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans cut low on her hips. The jeans were so tight I could see the outline of her twat. Thank God, she was holding her books in front of her boobs.
I swallowed the lump that had wedged in my throat and folded my hands together on the desk, doing my best to look as academic and uninterested as possible. I lifted my eyebrows at her.
“Yes, Miss Shaw?”
“I have a question about the finals,” she said, saying it loud enough so those still drifting from the room could hear. She turned and waited until we were alone, then gave me a smile and set the books on the desk. Her big boobs more than filled out the t-shirt. I could see the outline of her nipples. I subconsciously licked my lips.
“I really just wanted to thank you for the other night,” she said, giving me a warm smile, as if she was thanking me for a lovely dinner. “And to let you know that my offer to continue the fun still stands. Anytime. Anywhere.”
I rubbed my forehead to drive the thoughts of her lips around my cock out of my mind. I said, “Miss Shaw, look…”
“Call me Courtney,” she said. She lowered herself into a chair and crossed her arms on the desk. She rested her boobs on her arms. Her nipples were more apparent now.
“Courtney, look, as flattered as I am to even think that you might be interested in me, we can’t take this any farther. There are rules against fraternization between the staff and students.”
“So it’s okay that you’re fucking most of the female professors,” she said thoughtfully, “but you can’t fuck a female student. Even one who would willingly let you do so.”
I blinked at her for a minute. “Who said I was fucking anyone?”
She shrugged. “Come on, Logan. Everybody knows you’re fucking the old ladies on staff. It’s not a big deal. I certainly won’t hold that against you. Actually, that makes it even more exciting for me. I can’t wait to see your face when you shove your big cock into a sweet, young, tight, soaked pussy.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “You’ll never want to fuck old Martha Warner or Sheila Denning again.”
I was literally dumbfounded by her words and her knowledge of my extracurricular activities. I sat silent for a moment, waiting for my brain to come up with something to say that would convince her that she was wrong, but no snappy retorts came to mind. I cleared my throat and played innocent badly.
“Um, I’m not sure where you got that information from, but I can assure you that it is patently untrue. I am not involved with anyone on staff here at Golden State.” Christ, I sounded like a bad defense lawyer.
She cut her eyes at me. “So you didn’t fuck Dean Warner in the Ruby Tuesdays parking lot like everyone is saying? And you and Professor Denning don’t fuck at your house every time her husband Coach Denning is coaching away games?”
I stammered a bit. “What? No, I mean, of course, it’s not true. And you should tell anyone who is spreading those kinds of malicious rumors that they can get in serious trouble for doing so.”
“Relax, Logan, your little secrets are safe with me.”
I blinked at her. “Fine. Thank you.”
She clicked her tongue and shook her head, then leaned in and lowered her voice. I couldn’t help but steal a glance down the front of her shirt. I wanted to run my tongue down her round cleavage.
She said, “This would be so much more fun if we were just honest with one another, don’t you think?”
My eyes slowly drifted up to meet hers. I leaned into the desk and lowered my voice. I said, “Fine, I’ll be honest with you, Miss Shaw. It’s none of your business who I’m fucking because I’m not breaking any rules. I can’t afford to lose this job. I’m not willing to risk it, no matter how sweet, young, tight or soaked your pussy might be.”
That made her smile, as if she’d just won a hand of cards.
“I understand, Professor Clark,” she said with a sigh. She had her bag hanging over her shoulder. She reached inside it and brought out a plastic sandwich baggie. Inside the baggie, was a red thong. She tossed the bag on the desk and nodded at it.
“I was wearing those while I sucked your cock,” she said, getting to her feet. “I soaked them through and through while I was sucking you. I thought you might enjoy them as much as I enjoyed you.”
With that, she turned and sauntered out of the classroom. I watched the door for a moment, waiting to see if she was going to return. When she didn’t, I picked up the baggie and tugged it open. Immediately, the smell of her tangy juices wafted from the baggie. I held the baggie to my nose and closed my eyes to inhale deeply.
The smell of her pussy ignited my senses.
My cock twitched in my pants.
I could taste her on my tongue
I zipped the baggie shut, then put it in my briefcase.
I glanced at the clock. I had an hour before my next class.
Time enough to run home for a drink or two.
Time enough to lie on my bed with Courtney’s panties over my nose and mouth and my cock in my hand.
Time enough to do to myself what I was now longing to do to her.
Logan
I had forgotten that I had walked to work. My place was only a few minutes away, but I would have to hurry if I was going to have time to have a drink and jack-off to Courtney’s thong.
Wow, what an odd thought to go through your head…
Hmm, what’s this entry on my calendar? Why look, at two o’clock I’m slated to have a drink and jack-off to Courtney’s thong… I can’t miss that again…
Horny idiot.
I had made it just down the street from the accounting building when I saw a familiar blue Honda Accord pass by. The driver hit the brakes and whipped the car into the curb. The passenger window slid down as I approached.
“Hey you,” Sheila Denning said, leaning across the seat to call me over. Fuck… not now… I put on a happy face and leaned into the window.
Sheila was in her mid-thirties but looked much
younger. She had a full mane of naturally blond hair and big blue eyes. She had a turned-up nose and a set of lips most Hollywood actresses would have killed for.
She was a cheerleader at UCLA and Chuck was on the football team when they got married. She held her looks well, but Chuck was now balding and had a gut like a beach ball. I thought that was one of the reasons Sheila was attracted to me. I was one of the few single, forty-something-year-old guys on staff that didn’t look like a walking advertisement for heart failure.
Sheila was wearing a pair of black slacks and a willowy blouse that hid one of the most rocking bodies on campus, regardless of her age. I knew every inch of her body well. I’d gone over it in fine detail with my fingers and my tongue. I was glad that she was happily married to Charlie and just having fun with me. If she had been available, we probably would have hooked up and I knew where that would end.
“Hey yourself,” I said, giving her a smile. “Where are you headed?”
“I have a meeting with Dean Warner,” she said. “Where are you going?
“Oh, just thought I’d run home for a sandwich.” I made a big show of checking my watch. “My next class is in hour, so…”
“Well get in and I’ll drop you by your house,” she said, giving her head a little jerk.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.”
“Nonsense,” she said, patting the passenger seat. “It’ll take two minutes.”
I thought about turning her down, but that would have set off a red flag for her. Sheila was a knockout and a tiger in the sack, but she could also be a jealous bitch and I’d felt her wrath several times in recent months.
Even though she was married, she didn’t like me having anything to do with other women. Once, she saw me out with a waitress that I occasionally banged and she went ballistic, leaving threatening messages on my phone and showing up drunk at my house in the middle of the night. She told me that I belonged to her and I’d better not be seeing anyone else.