Office Hours

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."

"Of course not! I'm sorry, Ma'am!"

Jason eagerly took the kerchief. Michaels snorted when she noticed the boy taking a quick, reverent sniff of the little cloth before dabbing it between her legs. Oh, how the pitiful pervert would love to keep that rag after cleaning her! Michaels chuckled and began tweaking one of Jason's ears hard between two fingers as he worked. He winced and groaned, but didn't slow a beat. Most of Dr. Michaels' nails were gnawed short, but she had disciplined herself to keep her thumbs and forefingers long since meeting Jason.

"Did you manage to pay attention today, kid?" Dr. Michaels asked.

Jason bobbed his furiously. "Yes, Ma'am!"

"Good. Because I expect you to take that test on chapter 4 with everyone else, and if for once you manage to do well, perhaps I won't count you absent for today."

"Thank you, Ma'am, I swear I'll do my best."

Dr. Michaels soon decided that she was sufficiently mopped and sprung up from her chair. She gave the kneeling Jason a hard knock beneath the chin to indicate that he was allowed to at last stand up from beneath her desk. Before he had even finished rising, she snatched the kerchief back from his hand—now more sour than rosey—and stuffed it into a pocket in her blazer. Jason had done very well indeed during class. Orgasms certainly weren't the point of this type of scenario, yet the boy had still managed to offer up two almost decent ones in the past hour, using his tongue and fingers alone. He was certainly learning, but that would still not earn him any rewards.

Jason was tall, but then so was she. In fact, they were almost the exact same height, and would be eye-to-eye if Jason were allowed to look her in the eye without permission. They also shared a certain thinness, though Jason had recently become less thin than lean. Taught. He had begun working out over the past several months to better please—and withstand—Michaels.

Dr. Michaels liked to keep herself presentable and professional. Her hair was short, dark, and always well-styled. Her clothes may not have been tailored (what young academic still paying off loans could afford something so frivolous?), but they were carefully selected. Professional.

Jason, by contrast, was every bit the ridiculous, embarrassing little boy Michaels treated him as. His brown hair was longer than hers, and merely combed at best on most days. He wore a daily uniform of t-shirts, jeans, and tennis shoes—in other words, the lazy, tacky ensemble worn by every pathetic boy from age ten to whenever they finally grew the hell up. It was a ceaseless, obnoxious reminder to Dr. Michaels that she was easily over ten years older than her little pet, nearly 30 to his nearly 20. The very sight of Jason was so annoying that she wanted to slap him every time she saw him, and she did so as he straightened from under her desk, his still-glistening face beaming at her.

As always, Jason merely smiled and peeked at her with demure satisfaction.

Today's t-shirt was even lamer than ever, sporting a Pokyman or some other dumb cartoon shit that little boys were into these days. Yet it was Jason's jeans that made Dr. Michaels laugh aloud with cruel glee. The outline of his chubby little boner was plain as day against the denim, sprouting at a slightly awkward angle along the top of one thigh. It was a perfectly serviceable cock, Michaels knew from much experience, nice and fat, if not notably long. What made her laugh was the huge, soaking stain circling out from the tip of that chubby outline in Jason's pants. Not cum—Jason knew better than waste an ounce of attention on himself while servicing her—but a pond of boylube speaking of the kid's desperation and desire.

Michaels sauntered close. She no longer needed words or slaps to dominate this sad little creature. She merely blow a soft, warm stream of air from her lips to his face, and Jason tremored, barely even able to stay on his feet.

"

Please

, Ma'am..." he whispered between clenched teeth.

Dr. Michaels sneered and chuckled at the same time. Without warning, her left hand yanked Jason's head backwards by the hair while her right gripped his cock in a death grip through his jeans. She didn't pump or jerk or tug—Michael's simply

squeezed

. She choked the boy's cock as though strangling a rattler. In seconds Jason's whole body tensed and convulsed. His member pulsed and strained in the vice of Dr. Michael's hand. Yet only once Jason's face contorted with true pain did she release her hold and allow the full torrent of his long-overdue orgasm to burst into his jeans. The damp, sticky stain warmed and grew even larger.

Dr. Michaels laughed into Jason's glazed eyes and gave his cheek a couple of light slaps.

"T-thank you..." her pet murmured. "Thank you, Ma'am."

The kid was spent. The moment Michael's let go of his hair, Jason's face slumped into the crook of Michaels' neck, apparently content to pass out right there on his feet. Despite all the sweat, his ample hair had an almost overpowering scent of coconut.

Micahels abruptly shoved Jason away and gave him a couple of hard slaps to snap him awake.

"Getting comfy, aren't you, pervert?" she spat, then snickered at the wet patch around his crotch. This was his last class of the day, but Jason was still going to have a hell of walk across campus to get to his bike with every pair of eyes he passed zeroing in sticky blotch of denim. If he was lucky, passersby would merely think he had pissed himself. Dr. Michael's body tingled at the mere thought of the image. Humiliation was hardly strong enough a word.

Jason knew it, too. She could see dread chipping at his ever-present smile, while nervous hands plucked at the fabric around his quickly withering cock. He would make that walk of shame for her without protest or hesitation, degrade himself when she wasn't even there to see. Jason, his chin still wet from pleasuring her and his cheeks bright red from her slaps, always withstood anything at all for her.

Dr. Michaels sighed and strode around the boy to her desk. On the corner was a silver thermos of coffee that had gone untouched since that morning—Jason had been plenty enough to keep her perky, if not downright jittery at times. Michaels stood before him again and unscrewed the cap, savoring a lungful of delicious steam as it billowed from the thermos. Still piping hot.

Michaels pressed the rim of the thermos against Jason's chest and slowly began pouring the scalding contents down the front of his body. Jason went up on his toes and hissed again and again, his teeth sinking into his lip. Michaels began to carefully zigzag the emptying thermos down Jason's torso. Each nipple got a good splash, and she paused when she reached his hard stomach. The boy really was in excellent shape. By the time she reached the top of his jeans, the hot coffee had already soaked down across his lap, utterly obscuring the sticky patch his prick had produced. Still, Dr. Michaels tugged back his waistband and poured the last bit of burning liquid directly onto his crotch, eliciting a choked yelp and twisting leg from her pet—and a chuckle from herself.

Dr. Michaels stood back, twisting the cap back on the thermos, and regarded her work. Jason was drenched down the front from neck to knee and would smell like French roast from twenty feet away. The poor dear would likely never get the stains out his Pokyman shirt. Such a tragedy.

"There," she said. "Now you've simply had an unfortunate accident with a cup of coffee. Could happen to anyone."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Jason said quietly, and truly meant it.

"I'm done with you now," Michaels announced, and began gathering her things.

Jason gave a small bow. "Yes, Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am."

He bent over to fetch his backpack from under her desk. Almost without thinking, Michaels reached over to give his ass a hard swat as she continued to sort papers into her bag. Abusing him was just comfortable habit.

Jason paused at the door of the classroom, and gazed back at her with an adoring, yet questioning look. She knew what he wanted to ask; would they be getting together that evening?

They would, but as always Dr. Michaels refused to tell him so one way or the other. He was a pet, and she simply would not be in any obligation to him, even if the obligation was simply to cancel plans she had made if she changed her mind. Yet still Jason watched her questioningly, until finally Dr. Michaels bellowed, "Get out of here already, you fucking loser, before I staple your dick closed!"

Jason bowed and left. Michaels rolled her eyes. The creepy little masochist would probably like that just fine.

God, what a deranged pervert,

Michaels thought as she fetched her panties from her bag and tugged them on in the empty classroom.

2

Dr. Michaels had one more class before she could head home for the weekend, and enough time before it started for a small lunch. She started off across campus towards her favorite bench, beneath an enormous oak near the Main Building. It was a cold, gray day, as almost every day had been in the weeks since Halloween. Winter seemed eager to set in early, and Michaels couldn't be more pleased—she adored the cold by nature, and to hell with Jason for smirking whenever she said so.

Jason. As always, the longer she was away from him the more an odd kind of withdrawal set in. Not for the kid himself—certainly not!--but for who he let her be. He filled her with some energy that felt raw and true. She was powerful when he was near. Drunk.

And now that he was away came the hangover. Bottomless pride withered, replaced by throbbing embarrassment and regret over her behavior. Really, what had she been thinking hiding Jason under the desk? It was beyond risky. Being fired would be the least of the consequences of getting caught. Yes, she had done the same thing once before and gotten away with it, but that didn't make it any less irresponsible. It was bad enough that she rode Jason atop the desk in her office at least once a week; bringing their games out into public, hidden or not, was just stupid.

And yet...even as she berated herself, Dr. Michaels cheeks grew hot at the memory of Jason lapping away at her while she prattled on about rhetoric to two dozen students, and she knew that the moment she saw him again she would regret nothing. Her fantasies ran dark at the best of times, but Jason set her imagination on fire, and it could be difficult to keep her more vicious impulses in check. Michaels despised him for it, and a hundred other things.

Being Friday, the campus was half deserted. Dr. Michaels nodded at the few students and staff she knew, but didn't stop to talk with anyone of them. She almost never did unless there was a good reason. She knew she wasn't especially popular with students, and was just fine with that. She was a tough grader who tended to hand back papers practically painted in red ink. She seldom smiled and never joked, and woe to the idiot who thought they could talk up a grade or extend a deadline. It was a wonder as many students waved and smiled at her as did while she walked to the huge oak near the center of campus where she liked to take breaks.

Michaels settled on the bench watched the cool wind rattle the oak's leaves for a few moments. Yes, winter could come just as soon as it liked. She took a sandwich from her bag that she'd bought at a 7-11 that morning, and a can of coffee she got from a vending machine to replace the thermos she had wasted on Jason.

She had done that because it was fun to hurt him, not because she gave a damn about his feelings. Not a bit.

Had he been there, Jason would have had some comment about her lunch. Michaels was no cook, and didn't care to try to be one. Even making her own sandwiches somehow felt like a waste of time.

After a few pleasant minutes of munching her cheap sandwich and sipping her artificial coffee, the crunch of gravel behind her was Michaels' only warning before a short, blond man in khakis and a green sweater swept around and sat down beside her.

"Dr. Michaels!" he declared. "Here you are! You're so elusive I didn't even know you worked Fridays this semester until a student mentioned seeing you just now."

"Oh, ah, hello, Ted," Michaels said as pleasantly as she could muster. "Yes. Here I am."

Ted Barlow was a biology professor and one of the few faculty members who still tried to engage with her socially. A few years older than she, he was handsome despite his height. They had gone out a couple of times when Dr. Michaels had first started at the university three years ago, and slept together once. The dates were dull if pleasant, the sex so normal and boring that she had dozed off before it was completely over.

"So this is where you hide yourself for meals," Ted went on. He touched her arm. "We miss you in the cafeteria, you know. Not nearly enough liberal arts to balance out conversation at the table."

"Yes. Ah. I just enjoy the, um...fresh air."

"Well, maybe the cold will drive you back inside soon. Hasn't it been miserable lately?" Michaels simply stared at the leaves dancing on the breeze and shrugged.

"Hey, do you have a little time now?" Barlow asked. "Do you want take a walk, catch up a bit?"

Michaels shook her head a little too quickly. "No. I'm about to be late for a class, I really shouldn't even be sitting around here."

Michaels stood and guzzled the last bit of her coffee and tossed the can along with her sandwich crusts into a nearby trashcan.

She began marching away, offering Ted only a quick, "Sorry" over her shoulder.

He shrugged, bemused

In truth, Dr. Michaels still had quite awhile before her class. She decided to treat herself to a cigarette, and found a private patch of wall behind the library where the butts littering ground marked the perfect spot. She had once madeout with Jason here, late one night after class. She had gotten a little carried away in the dark and bitten his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Jason had lisped for a week, to her endless, cruel delight.

She lit up and leaned against the wall, watching cars go by on road behind a little copse of trees in the distance. It was dead silent here. Lifeless. Michaels almost wished a student would come around the corner and join her for a smoke. They did, sometimes, when she smoked, and they would chat about essays or schedules or maybe literature, if they were one of her students. But students also had a hard time suppressing the urge to be grating morons, launching into hyperbole about a movie they had seen or giggling over campus-wide in-jokes.

Not that faculty were much better company; there was good reason she avoided the cafeteria these days. Half of them were so old and boring she could scream, while the other half either didn't take her seriously as an academic, were only interested in fucking her, or both. Ted was a rare exception, and she was starting to regret not taking that walk with him. He was boring, but at least they could have an adult conversation. And it really wasn't his fault that their sex had been so awful—she had been there, too, and hadn't done anything to make it memorable.

The truth was, she had never done the kinds of things she did with Jason with anyone else before. Had never even wanted to. She had always had fantasies, sure, wicked corners of her mind that she only dusted off when it was time for a wank. But before Jason, she had been the kind of person who was fine with an ordinary sexual reality. She had been with younger men before (though not nearly as much younger as Jason), and had even fucked another student before (a drunken one-night-stand with a senior that she was not proud of).