The first part of Dr. Michaels' and young Jason's unusual, sweet romance. Much, much more to come.
And if you do want more, feel free to shoot me an email.
1
"What is rhetoric?" said professor Michaels, thumbing the underside of her glasses as heat continued to bloom ever deeper in her cheeks. "One may as well ask, 'What is communication? How does one talk to another within a community with rules and expectations?'"
Dr. Michaels bit her lip for a brief moment, and pounded on the huge desk before her. Three dozen eyes watched and listened, rapt by her obvious passion.
"Rehtoric," Michaels said, carefully composing herself, "is a study of nuance. It's the meaning buried beneath the stone-written words." Michaels flinched, and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment to compose herself before this roomful of inquiring eyes. "Rhetoric is the study of what we actually mean to say—who we actually
are
—beneath the words we use."
A hand shot up. Lindsay Gregs. Dr. Michaels hated Lindsay Gregs. She was young and scrawny and stupid and...
young
!
"Yes?" Michales said slowly, letting a hand slip below the desk while she slowly smiled.
"Um, wouldn't what we are," said Lindsay, "inevitably influence what words we use? I mean, just how far can you separate what are from what you do?"
Dr. Michaels groaned in the quietest part of her throat, and she gripped tighter beneath the desk. Where did such an idiot as Gregs get that kind of insight? It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.
With the utmost discipline and practice, Dr.Michaels crossed her hands atop the desk before her and stared Lindsay Gregs in the eyes.
"You'd be surprised," Michales said, "how often what we do is entirely separate from who we...
think
we are."
Lindsay nodded. Another student. A child, really. Just another child.
The chiming on her watch called the end of class. Students began packing their bags, using sheaths of notes as bookmarks in their texts.
"Chapter 4!" Dr. Michaels reminded her class as they began to lineup to escape her. "Every word will be on the test next Thursday, so no skimming you lazy bastards!"
Michales loved that higher education allowed for a looser tongue.
The professor chuckled to herself...loose tongue indeed!
Michaels allowed herself a shuddering sigh as she peered beneath the desk at the top of a shaggy brown head, still bobbing and writhing passionately between her legs in the desperate attempt to please her. Dr. Michaels watched this pathetic display for a small while, lips twisted in a cruel, satisfied sneer while both hands fisted tight handfulls of the boy's sweat-damp hair.
Before very long, though, Michaels gave the shaggy head a hard wrap with her knuckles. "Enough, moron," she snarled. "Everybody has been gone for five minutes."
The desperate lapping at her cunt stopped and an exhausted, yet gentle voice cooed, "Sorry, Ma'am." Jason slid his head away from Dr. Michael's crotch and nuzzled her wet thigh while smiling up at her with serene adoration. "Thank you, Ma'am."
Jason. His beautiful, infuriating face utterly soaked with sweat, saliva, and Michaels' own juices. Those huge, girlish lashes matted, that strong chin oozing a thin string of liquid. That young, pouty mouth split wide in genuine gratitude for letting him eat her out for an hour straight while she taught her class. Those clever brown eyes gazing at her as though beholding perfection itself.
Dr. Michaels rolled her eyes and snorted with disgust.
"Pathetic,"she said, and gave Jake a firm backhand across his damp cheek. Jake simply ground his face harder against her thigh, smiled wider.
"Thank you, Ma'am..." came a muffled murmur.
Michaels sighed and fetched a handkerchief from the bag at the corner of her desk. Plain, but thick and soft, and smelling faintly of lemon and rose. She whipped it a couple of times at Jason's head and barked, "Well?! Clean me up, you disgusting little idiot! I won't have your vile drool dripping down my legs between classes."