It was pouring and I was soaked through my BVDs. The cold early autumn rain was not an excuse. I had to deliver my Intro Psyc paper, which was already a day late. Dr. Psyc asked me to drop it by his home.
Knock knock kno...the door opens and there was Mrs. Dr. Psyc, barefoot, jeans, sweatshirt covering her hands. I tried to hand her the paper, but she took my outstretched arm and led me into the house...wow, a fire was burning and the warmth enveloped my wet body.
She looked at me, sizing me up. I could tell that she was trying to decide what to "do" with me...surly a maternal instinct. "Take your shoes and shirt off. I will get some of Dr. Psyc's clothes for you."
Off she went, off came my shoes and shirt. Back she came with a thick robe. She wanted my clothes--all of them. Into the bathroom, out of the rest of my clothes, into the robe. She took my clothes away, and tossed them into the dryer, and brought a magnum of coco and a platter of windmill cookies from the kitchen.
She sat on the rug in front of the fire, and nodded a path for me across from her. Now it was my turn to stare...the fire highlighted her features. She was flipping through my paper...she looked at me and said that Dr. Psyc would surely love this for he was a student of Kohlberg's Stages of Development. Mumbling something about him not progressing past the second stage she drank her coco and broke a cookie in half, offering me the other half. On equal footing---half cookie each and a cup, we began to chat.
Beethoven was a common bond, and we discovered that we had been at the same concert 3 times recently. I was relating my feelings about the intensity of the fourth movement of Beethoven's Ninth. How the orchestra faded behind the brilliance of the chorus...how I felt my very being become one with the music...A singular tear. A simple request. Insert the cassette, please. I need to hear it again now. While my back was to her she had moved to "my" side of the rug...and as I bent over to pick up my cup of coco, she again reached for my hand and led me to a position next to her. We sat, our thighs touching lightly while the room filled with the sounds of George Szell's orchestra, Robert Shaw's chorus, and Beethoven's last symphony's final movement.
And as we listened, in barely a motion, she slid out of her jeans. Her left hand moved her lace panties to the side and her fingers delved into her wetness. She masturbated with almost perfect emotion, to the sound of the music. I was looking at her, into her. A stunned freshman. Her moans invited me to move closer and my legs enveloped her from behind. She leaned against me, my face resting on her shoulder. and my lips gently tasting her neck. She came with a shudder, many moans, and the most beautiful smile.
As the music ended, Mrs. Dr. Psyc turned to me and said, my name is Cari...
TWO
Cari proved to be quite the tease, and a teacher that would befit a Mrs. Dr. Psyc. I had never seen a woman masturbate before, and never seen a woman have a shuttering orgasm.
She asked me what I thought about what she had just done. I said that I was not sure what it was she did do...at that she swung her sexy legs around and spread her wet pussy lips and showed me her erect clit.
As she touched it her voice became soft and she shuttered again and her breath became more labored. I reached out to touch her and she took my fingers and placed them on her protrusion, and instructed me to spell the alphabet on it with my middle finger.
Somewhere around the letter L, Cari squirted a clear liquid all over my arm, while she screamed and exploded in tears. She grabbed my hand and quickly sucked my wet fingers into her mouth, sucking and licking with animalistic tenderness. Then she fell into my arms, pulled me down, and swallowed my red-hot hard wet throbbing cock. I could not hold back after all of the visual stimulation and touching...I let loose of a load of cum that Cari later said she could not taste because it went right down her throat. She licked my balls and my inner thighs clean, and placed her head on my chest.
We were both too spent to speak for a while. Then, she got up and left the room, returning with my dry clothes. Cari asked me to put them on, which I reluctantly did. But Cari had something to say, and I listened while dressing.
She said that if I wanted to fuck her, I would have to learn how to make love to a woman and how to fuck a woman from her. She asked me how many women I had been with, and I said 3--all once. Cari said that she would not be a sperm catcher like the others, that she would either be my teacher or nothing. I would have to follow her instructions or pay penalties. And I was not allowed to talk with anyone about what we were doing. I was also required to tell her, in detail, about every other sexual encounter that I had so she could critique my activities.
I considered this all a deal I couldn't refuse.
She walked me to the door, and before I left she kissed me...telling me that she would call me to set up our next session. I left the house, the door closed behind me, and before leaving the porch I took a look inside from a living room window. There was Cari, kneeling over a dildo, and trusting herself down, grinding against its base, and pinching and rolling her hard nipples. After a few minutes she came and collapsed onto the floor.
Back into the rainy night I went...my cock was throbbing and wet...I raced back to my dorm room and masturbated to the thoughts of Cari and the sounds of Iron Butterfly.
THREE
Psyc was one of five Into courses including American Government, Geology, Geography and Economics. As the years have gone by, I can remember much of what I learned in each course, but I remember nothing about the classes themselves, and little about the professors.
Except for Intro Psyc and Dr. Psyc.
Two days after meeting Cari, I walked into class and sat in the front row, right in front of the man whose wife had sucked me off, masturbated in front of me, kissed me, and made it clear that we would soon be fucking.
I recall that after the second or third post-blow job class, I stopped trying to look for signs that Dr. Psyc might know what was happening or about to happen. All seemed normal, and I got a high B on the first exam.